Burying Your Face In His Neck While You Ride Him On The Couch. Feeling His Head Turn And His Lips Glide

burying your face in his neck while you ride him on the couch. feeling his head turn and his lips glide a wet path over your jaw before he nips at it, breathing something about how good you’re making him feel — or maybe something with more of a teasing edge. getting tired? need me to do it for you? his hands cupping under your ass, getting a good handful before moving up to grip and guide your movements. maybe a light smack for encouragement. there you go, don’t stop now. ride that dick. you do it so well, baby. so well that i don’t think i can pull out.

i think that some of you guys really do forget that fanfic writing is subjective to the user. 'logan wouldnt date fat girls—' what, did the fictional man crawl through the fucking screen and tell you that himself? did you have a prophetic vision? are you now the messiah of logan fics? i don't care what the hell he did in canon or what he called fred, let the bigger girls have something. not to mention that self indulgent fanfic writing or selfshipping or whatever-you-wanna-call-it is exactly what it is... self indulgent.

itd be different if it was something morally grey or inherently wrong but we're talking about... a body type here. even if this man looked directly at the camera in a movie and went 'i don't date fat women or plus sized women' it still wouldnt matter if people wanted to write logan x plussized!reader. do you know why? because he is fictional. you all need to live your truth and stop letting theoretical lines hold you back

thinking about older!boyfriend logan howlett and his sweet little live-in girlfriend…

cw: MDNI, dom/sub dynamics, pet names, daddy!kink, dd/lg undertones

older!boyfriend logan who has always been a bit nefarious in his ways of making money, but you’ve never dared to question it—no one’s ever provided for you the way he does.

older!boyfriend logan who uses said money not only to take care of you, but to pamper you—at least once a week, he’s coming home with a new frilly little dress for you to wear (much too short to wear outside the house, these are just for him), a new pajama set, a hair clip, etc. it only makes sense that he’ll call you doll; he loves to dress you up like one.

older!boyfriend logan who will hand you the pretty wrapped up bag and arch a brow at you when you grab at it, yanking it back towards his chest and tsking: what do you say, princess? always to be followed by a sweet thank you, daddy.

older!boyfriend logan who expects to be entertained with a mock fashion show, and you’re more than eager to try on your new gifts for him. he’ll sit himself on the couch, thick thighs spread wide, lounging his wingspan over the back, damn near as long as the couch itself, and wait for you while your scurry off to change.

older!boyfriend logan who isn’t subtle about the way his eyes flit over your figure every single outfit. he’s purposely chosen ones that’ll tease at the tops of your thighs, revealing the swell of your ass if you move or bend just right. lacy little things that peak your nipples through, or some innocent pattern, like daisies, that hug your hips just right.

older!boyfriend logan who also makes no effort to hide the outline of his hardening cock in his slacks—you’ve been tactful, too. choosing to try them on by least to most revealing until all you’re left in is a pathetic excuse of a skirt; a sheer, baby-pink piece that you can see right through to the matching thong. you’ve looped the lace garter it comes with around your right thigh, the matching bralette squeezing your tits up.

you walk out sultry and slow, hands clasped behind your back and your bottom lip pulled up between your teeth. logan’s chest expands with air, his jaw set tight, and you notice the way he clenches his knuckles over the back of the couch.

“what do you think, daddy?” you whisper, words dripping with syrup as you stop in front of him.

he looks you over, silent snd stoic, the anticipation nearly too much to bear. but logan’s already made up his mind; this is certainly the outfit he’ll keep you in tonight.

he reaches a single hand forward, gently toying with the hem of the skirt.

“i love it, baby,” he says, and the way you beam upon his praise is enough to drive him mad. “c’mere,” he continues, using the same hand to pat one of his thighs.

you don’t waste a single moment, stepping closer until you’re able ease yourself onto his lap, straddling the breadth of him—solid, warm, safe. your arms weave around his neck as his hands find your hips, and you shiver when he leans forward, face disappearing into your neck. his lips tickle the sensitive skin, and you let your eyes fall shut, slipping into that perfect oasis of mindlessness he always sends you to.

“let daddy show you how much he loves it.”

x

logan's got big hands so his girl must have big thighs i dont make the rules i just post what he tells me!

this pic is soo dbf!joel coded

Layla. Buffalo 66, movie {1998} ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“I’m the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?”