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I Need Him - Blog Posts
these two are my life blood gavin x lasko
HES FINE IN BOTH THE ANIME AND LIVE ACTION
I finally watched Unhinged (2020), and honestly Tom Cooper (the road raging psychopath in the film) can get it. Bro can get it, I need fanfiction on this, I NEED FANFICTION ON THIS.‼️‼️‼️
Bro can get it.
I NEED HIM
Jebus christoff...
reposting this so I can find it easier, I love it so so much, I need more days to come out
Now that the april fooling is over, this should be safe to post without it seeming like a rick-roll
The full day 0 of the dating game is out now. It works on firefox. Not so sure about other browsers at the moment. Click the above embed to go to it!
For those of you who played the demo, you'll have to start from the beginning. I've added in a secret or two, maybe you'll find them. Maybe you wont.
But no matter what I hope you have fun.
(also just as a note- this should take you all the way to a credits scene, if it didn't, something broke)
Kyle gallner acknowledging chicken jockey was not on my 2025 bingo card? now I need to hear him say it😭
he gets me like no one else
OMG???? THIS WHOLE SERIES IS JUST MAGNIFICENT
pornstar!moon-boys x fluffer!reader
part three: jake
a/n: some headcannons bc we filthy up in this bitch >:) 1.5k??? i'm overcompensating for something lmao
others: marc | steven | more steven
as a fluffer, it's your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences:
(NSFW 18+ under the cut)
jake: the troublemaker
GIF by manny-jacinto
Jake was the last (and final?) alter you met. He didn't ask for you the first time you met. Actually, you thought you were seeing Marc, but it turns out Jake was 'covering this one' for him, whatever that means.
It turns out Jake had been in the industry longer than Steven but you've just never met him. Unlike the other boys, he was used to taking whatever fluffer was offered on set, not really preferring or caring who was preparing him for the day. It never really mattered to him.
And then he met you.
His eyebrows raise when you walk in, eyes taking in every inch of your body. You're dressed in a pair of comfy shorts and an oversized shirt, hair styled casually so it's out of your face (Marc was going through a phase where he craves to see you in pajamas, needing that extra domesticity and softness).
Jake doesn't greet you, or even bother to stand up from the couch to shake your hand. He looks...amused, like he recognizes you.
"You're that girl that has my brothers wrapped around her finger." It's not a question, more like a statement.
He leans back against the couch as if to get a better view of what's in front of him. He looks like Marc, but he doesn't sound or carry himself like him. And he's definitely not Steven.
You don't deny his words, "And... you are?"
"Lockley, Jake Lockley." He still doesn't move to shake your hand, just says it with a nod.
"Another...?"
"Yeah, there are three of us... As far as I know."
"Where's --"
"Marc? I dunno." He doesn't look too concerned. It's almost like he's barely interested in the conversation when it isn't about himself. "But I'm here." You catch your first glimpse of his famous smirk, one that you've learned spells trouble.
You've named Jake as the troublemaker of the trio because he constantly bends the rules and does what he wants. Especially with you.
For one, he's the first alter you ever fucked. Actually, he's the first pornstar you've fucked, too.
Usually you have a longer session the first time, but 20 minutes would have to do. He's still staring at you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. Inviting.
You go up to him like any other client, not phased by his dark eyes and mischievous allure, and straddle over his thighs. His hands immediately come up to hold your waist, steadying you easily against him.
Other than that, he doesn't make a move, clearly waiting to see what you'll do.
"So what do you like, Lockley?"
"Aren't you supposed to figure that out, sweetheart?"
Kissing Jake always takes your breath away. He's demanding but somehow he makes you feel like you need it, not the other way around.
He's dirty with it, drawing you in with soft kisses before nipping at your lips and then deepening it by laving his tongue against yours. It's addicting how smoothly he moves against you, tempting your body to take it a step up, to cross that line.
You are sitting up on your knees just a few inches off of his lap, hovering over and making out with him, hands cradling his jaw. You have the upper hand (and are literally over him) but you've never felt so lost in a kiss.
You feel his hands drag from your waist to your ass. He grasps you, shoving your loose soft shorts up so he can feel your skin against his palms. You let him.
That was your first mistake.
You're distracted by his mouth when his hand shifts from your butt to your aching center. You've been dripping -- soaking since he gave you a taste of his tongue, since he first held you.
You let out a surprised moan as his fingers press flush against your clothed core, stroking against your most sensitive area. He applies the perfect amount of pressure against your cunt, brushing and prodding at your entrance over your clothes before cruelly teasing your clit.
You let it go on far longer than you should've, but it just felt so good. And then it felt too good.
He rubs your clit until you're seeing white, until you can only think of him and how he's touching you.
You gasp, "Jake!" Your legs shake from having to hold yourself up as he pushes you off the edge. He growls as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep you steady. You settle back onto his lap, forehead resting against his chest as you pant and calm down.
He's hard as a rock against you, practically pulsing as he watches you come down from your orgasm and melt against him.
He figured you out, and you, him.
Jake gets off on getting you off.
When you're his fluffer, you're his to touch, tease, and prod, not the other way around.
You wouldn't really call him a 'giving' partner because at the end of the day, he does it for himself.
He's selfish in how he'll pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, just because it pleases him. He doesn't care if you're writhing under him.
That first session didn't end where it was supposed to. Giving you an orgasm was already more than you're used to. But he kept going. You were distracted, caught off guard.
That was you're second mistake.
Before your lust-fogged mind could wrap around what was happening, your loose and stretchy pajama shorts were tugged to the side and he was pushing up into you.
The stretch was intense, but he slid in easily with how wet you were for him. You both groan simultaneously as he filled you to the brim.
After that first round, Jake ceased production for the day, telling everyone to go home while yelling "Don't fucking interrupt me" on his way back to his dressing room.
---
(He's not allowed to fuck you during working hours anymore -- they even put it in his contract. He wasn't too happy about that.)
Needless to say, you were called back the next day.
As much as Jake loves to play with you, sometimes there isn't enough time, especially on bigger projects with less time to fool around. In those cases, he takes a quick sloppy blowjob.
And by sloppy, you mean sloppy.
He loves watching you struggle to swallow him down, eyes shiny with tears and drool dripping down your neck.
His hand grips your hair, guiding the smooth pace as you bob against him. You whine as he slowly speed up, your jaw is already tired and knees are sore. You hold on your his hips to help stay steady as he starts to thrust back into you, cock hitting the back of your throat every so often. You gag and he growls.
He's the one who pulls you off, knowing his own limits.
He's the most controlled out of the three, able to slip you off his cock just at the right moment before walking out and starting the day.
He groans when he peers down at you, "Fuck...I wish I could cum down that pretty throat," You're wiping your mouth, lips still vibrating from the way he fucked into you. "C'mon baby, let's go. Call time's in five." You comb your fingers through you messy hair before he helps you up.
Then you follow him out.
Like Marc and Steven, he also refuses to be prepped by anyone else. But he also takes it a step further (bc of course he does), he takes you to set with him. Like some 'bring-your-girlfriend-to-work' day.
(oh yeah...you're with them now...)
You didn't even know that you were allowed to physically be on set when scenes are being recorded, until Jake insisted, claiming he could only keep it up if you were watching.
Sometimes when he's fucking a girl (or fucking himself) he looks up, eyes scanning the room until he finds you. The cameras don't exist to Jake and this isn't his job. Porn -- or being recording -- is just him doing the company a favor and letting them have a glimpse into his bedroom habits. He doesn't give a fuck.
He meets your gaze and sends you a cocky smirk, hands restraining the body under him as he roughly slams his hips against hers. It never fails to make your breath hitch and skin bloom with heat.
He gives you the same intense look when you're under him, choking on his cock. He's imagining that you're under him now, stretched and ruined for him. Whimpering and crying out for more. As much as you try to ignore him, you can't. It's like driving past a car wreck, you can't look away.
Directors have had to scrap countless recordings for the final production of videos when he'd get really carried away, grunt dirty words in spanish to the girl in the corner of the room (you) that the camera can't even see.
It's not all bad though, the company sometimes uses those behind-the-scene vids of him, basically cuckholding you, for exclusive content. And viewers go feral for it. Probably because it's more genuine than half of the videos out there.
and he’d be so sweet to you when you’re pregnant!
meeting your every need and he’s with you every step of the way during labor and once the baby comes he’s over the moon and he def cries bc he’s just so happy to be a dad😭
dad!bob is what keeps me up late at night, I need to give that man as many babies as he wants!!! (and he wants a lot, he has a breeding kink, trust me I know him)
Bob has a DIRTY BREEDING KINK
and the man wants a whole house of kids and I would happily provide
having the most vile thoughts about bob + needy fucking + breeding kink
- 🪷
nsfw!
bob wants nothing more than to have a baby with you. literally all he can think about while he’s at work—that he really has tried to stop doing because he can’t keep popping a semi in front of phoenix—is how that day is going to be the day.
he would be laser focused on it. the second he gets home.
he would press himself up against you in the kitchen, half-pinning you to the island from behind as he brushes your hair out of the way to press a chaste kiss against the nape of your neck.
“how was work?” you would ask, knowing it was just a formality at this point with the way his dick was throbbing against you.
“fine, baby,” he hums as he fiddles with the elastic waistband of your shorts. as bad as he wants you, he’s not one to touch without explicit permission.
“straight to business then, i assume,” it’s light, the way it falls from your lips. and bob barely even hears it before he’s running off at the mouth again.
“please please please, sweetheart. wanna give you a baby so bad,” he whines.
“okay, bobby,” you reach one hand up to run your hand through his hair, despite the odd angle of where he’s dug his face into your neck.
you can hear him practically whimper at the admission, hands curling around your bottoms to tug them down your legs. he’s quick to pull them all the way down until they’re pooled around your ankles, giving himself enough time to undo his belt as you step out of the garment.
“gonna put a baby in you, sweetheart. gonna make you a momma real soon,” he hums as he lines himself up with your entrance.
he’s always been a little needier than other guys you’d been with. a little more eager. but ever since you’d started actively trying to have a kid. good lord, you could barely get him off you. not that you were really complaining, though, either.
“oh, bob. please,” it’s almost a gasp the way it slips off your tongue. the stretch of him still heady despite having been in the same position this morning.
“i got you,” he coos. “always got you.”
why not right there…?
I ran so that I could share this with you because it made me think of how flustered chubby baker Bucky would get when he saw it!!
Summary: Teasing Bucky is always worth the consequences.
Pairing: Chubby!Baker Bucky x Reader
AN: Unbetad drabble. Part of the Sweeter than Sugar Series.
"Peach," Bucky whispers, rubbing the back of his neck as a blush blooms across his round cheeks. "I—this isn't fair. You know you can't do this to me. I can't handle this."
You hide a smug smirk behind your champagne flute. He's right. It's not fair. But he started it when he showed up to your work party wearing a new black three-piece suit, tailored to his large body, the material highlighting every inch of his physique.
Bucky in his jeans and apron is enough to drive you wild. Bucky in a suit, wearing that cologne is rendering you senseless, teetering the edge of feral and needy.
How can he expect you to behave when he looks so damn good?
So you may have been teasing him here and there as a way to distract yourself from this boring party.
Your gaze travels past his long hair sweeping across the nape of his neck and across his strong jawline enhanced his thick beard. God he's spent so much time between your thighs, you know exactly how that beard feels on your soft skin.
Just imagining the graze of it on your back as he chains kisses down your spine--feeling it against your neck as he murmurs just one more, one more Peach has your panties soaked.
"Bucky I need you so bad. If we were home, I'd beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me suck your cock. You taste so good, did you know that? So good." You murmur, reveling in this shiver sliding down his spine, your hand flexing, gripping his muscular thighs tighter. Your voice drowning out everyone else in the room, he can only focus on you. "I hate feeling empty. Need you to stretch me out and fuck me the way you know I like. I'm going to feel you inside me for days, aren't I?"
Unable to resist him for another second, you set your drink down and lean over in your chair, placing one hand on his thick thigh, the other sliding around his throat pulling him towards until your lips are touching the shell of his ear. Inhaling the masculine scent of his smokey cedar, bergamot, and lemon cologne, you let out a soft moan.
You know he's slowly becoming feral the longer you talk, you can sense it in the way he's gone still, his chest barely rising, his hands clenchimh into fists. He's so damn close to edge and you know exactly how to push him over.
"You'll do that for me Bucky wont you? Keep me nice and full, leave me swollen and dripping because my little pussy couldn't take anymore."
Bucky can't breathe. His lungs seizing in his chest. Fuck, fuck. You're barely touching him, the sounds your salacious, dirty thoughts ringing in his ear are going to make him lose control in the middle of your work party.
He wants that, wants you.
A ravenous hunger swells up inside him, drowning out every thought except all the ways he's going to utterly consume you. Destroy you. Make you sob and plead and scream for more. Giving you every inch he has, giving you all of his attention until you can't move without feeling on you, inside you.
Bucky turns his head, his nose bumps into yours and he grabs the back of your neck in a loose hold. His deep blue eyes darkening as they pierce through you.
"Peach," he starts, his baritone deepening to a gravely, lust-filled tone. "I'm giving you one minute to find an empty room. It could be an office, a fucking closet. I really don't give a fuck where because by the time I countdown to one, I'm going to be inside you." Bucky tilts your face up, his lips hovering over your parted mouth, his gaze never wavering from your face. "Understand?"
You nod, excitement and anticipation rushing through your veins as a pulse of pure need throbs between your thighs.
You feel his lips curve into a smile.
"Good girl. You have 59 seconds."
foaming at the mouth!
hi post-war remus lupin edit ur looking very yummy
I need a part 2 yesterday THIS IS SO GOOD AJDJAJD
— trouble will find me
bodyguard!logan x mobster’s daughter!reader
rated e - 3k
tags: 70s era, dofp/bonedaddy!logan, bodyguard!logan, reader is the daughter of a mobster, reader is shorter than Logan, club setting, use of alcohol, cigar smoking, mutual pining, flirting, light brat taming!logan, references to violence, competence kink, semi-public vaginal fingering, kissing, forbidden relationship
a/n: I can’t stop thinking about dofp!logan sleeping with the girl he’s guarding, this is inspired by that scene! huge thank you to @pr0ximamidnight who let me chit chat about this little idea. you are amazing! 💖💕
His eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip, “‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”
Your hands skate lower, fingers tracing the edge of his belt buckle. His nostrils flare - a warning, though he does not move.
“Supposed to keep me out of trouble,” You hum, “But what if I want a little in me?”
You can feel his eyes follow you.
Which shouldn’t really be surprising. It's his job, of course. Keep an eye on you, keep you safe.
But there’s something in the way he watches.
A curl of smoke from a lit cigar. Fingers tracing the rim of a half-downed whisky, a worn leather jacket thrown over a broad shoulder. The tilt of his chin when your eyes meet his - dark and narrowed, missing nothing. Slipping over you like the soft silk of your dress.
Indulging, almost. Unashamed.
You might have a crush.
You're trying not to think about it too much.
Tonight, you're just trying to enjoy the after-party.
It's all bright lights.
The room is bathed in pinks and yellows and flashing red. Disco club music pumped through the speakers, the panels of the floor flickering to the beat. You've been here for two hours already. Nursing tequila sunrises and pink squirrels. Sweat sticking to the nape of your neck, as the minutes tick by, bleeding past midnight.
He's not going to stop you, just yet. You can have your fun tonight - sway to the beat of the music - as long as you play by the rules.
Logan is so different from the ones before him.
Tripping over their feet to check on you. Breathing down your neck, with their padded-shoulder suits smelling like cigarettes and cheap cologne. Too afraid for themselves, of your father, to actually do a good job of protecting you.
Stifling and all too willing to tell you yes to anything.
It was exhausting.
Logan had come recommended - an acquaintance of a friend. He'd 'get the job done' from what you heard. Motivated. Needed the cash and would listen, no questions asked.
Just the type your father thought he could sway - a half-wild guard dog, his salary a leash. Heeling at the click of a tongue, the snap of fingers.
It's not how you saw him, though.
His silence was not obedience. There was nothing bought about this man - watching you from the line of leather booths along the wall.
You've wondered if maybe - you're just desperate to find some form of kindred spirit in someone. Too used to feeling like an accessory instead of a person. Your appearance at your father's events drove home his image. The good, family man who was oh so generous with his time and money.
Articles were written weekly about how philanthropic he was.
You had no idea if anything ever came from the numerous events you hosted - an attempt at doing something with your education. How much was skimmed off your blood, sweat, and tears, funneled back into what he did best.
Maybe you both saw through the bullshit.
He'll last longer than the others, at least.
More than once you've been halfway out the door, headed off to East Village or SoHo, only for him to catch you by the scruff of your sweater - whisking you back inside or into the Lincoln Town Car before you realized what happened.
An angry fist connecting with the nose of a man who had gotten too close at a gala last week. Cornering you in the coat room. Logan, charging in like a snarling beast when you had whimpered his name - red dripping down to stain the pressed white collar as the man was hauled away.
You’ve been thinking about that for days.
There was no sucking up. No flashing of a holster under his arm, some grandiose promise that you don't need to worry. You've never even seen Logan near a weapon but somehow, you feel more safe with him than you ever have with anyone else.
But this bit of internal tenderness that has sprouted, paired with his competency, has been seriously cramping your style.
It’s been enough that he's been hard to get out of your mind. Two weeks of teasing and poking at the limits set. Never giving you much, with that glare - thick arms crossed over his chest. A little thrill rippling up your spine, when his voice goes low and gruff.
The lights go dim, as the music begins to slow.
With the way your eyes wander, you know he sees you when you pick up a partner.
A man that moves with you, peeling off to crowd your space after your hips swivel with the hustle. His hand dipping low from where it rests on the small of your back.
Bold, when he bends to ask you 'if you'd like to get out of there'.
You meet Logan's eyes when you tell him yes.
Telling yourself that it's just to forget him. Definitely not because you're desperate to see the look on his face. To hear that tone he takes when he's pissed off.
A way to ascertain if you've taken root in his mind, even for just a moment.
There's zero chance Logan heard you from across the room. But it doesn't stop him from moving. Pushing to his feet, cutting straight through the crowd to wrap a hand around your bicep the second you start peeling off with the stranger - heading towards the side door.
"No fucking chance." It's gritted out, as he yanks you to him. Your shoulder collides against his chest as he steps between you and the man.
A sloppy hand pushes against his arm. The man's eyes are hazy under the neon lights as he makes a grab for you.
"Come on, man. I saw her first."
Logan pivots you away with a snarl, "She ain't leaving with you, bub."
Another sloppy shove, glancing off the brown leather jacket.
"You're really starting to piss me off." Logan's tone drips with warning, with knowing, "Gonna regret starting something in a room full of people like this."
And it's now that he takes in how big Logan is. The flex of splayed-wide fingers, knuckles curling into a clenched fist. A look in his eye that says that punches won't be pulled - not tonight.
The stranger takes a step back. It's enough.
You're already getting hauled away before they can answer. Guided into one of the many VIP rooms. A snarled "get the fuck out of here" to the attendant, before Logan's crowding you against the bar - hands bracing on his hips.
Fuming, you push yourself up to sit on the top - an attempt to get closer to his height.
"What was that about?" Your chin lifts, as your arms cross.
His eyes flash - a curl of his lip, "Can't you make my job easy, kid?"
Kid. It always makes you bristle. So far from that, and it's the way he says it. That dripping edge, like he knows something you don't.
"Maybe he was a friend." You deadpan.
"Yeah. Real friendly," He scoffs, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose, "You think your daddy is gonna like you going home with a piece of shit like that?"
That makes your teeth clench - a glare sent his way, "I don't think it's any of your business."
"It's literally my business, sweetheart." Logan huffs. His hands curl around the edge of the bar, braced on either side of your knees.
Your breathing hitches, for just a second. The soft name is ground out between his teeth, but it still shoots straight to your pussy.
You haven't been this close to him before. Enough to see the bleed of brown to green in his hazel eyes. The sharp mark between his brows that you want to press your thumb against.
The shorn-down hair at his chin, before it grows thick across his cheeks. Handsome in a way that makes you ache, your fingers curling into fists to keep from touching him.
There's been moments alone - car rides, lounging in the armchair in the corner of your room when he barks at you to hurry up.
But it hasn't been like this.
Maybe it's the opportunity. Maybe it's the amber glitter of tequila in your veins, but you let your palms press against the shining wood. Your knees inch a little further apart, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs.
"That the only reason you whisked me away?” Your eyebrow lifts, "Kidnapping, if I recall, is one of the things you're supposed to be keeping me safe from."
"You are safe." He deflects, "'s not kidnapping when it's me.”
Those eyes are still on yours. Not dropping to where his hips nearly press against the edge of the bar top.
You break the eye contact first.
“Well, it’s fine.” You sniff - as if his actions had been your idea, “I didn’t want him anyways.”
Logan grunts. There’s the slightest brush - the flex of his thumb at your thigh, where your dress rides up. A long look before he’s pushing back to step away, but your fingers reach out, catching on his white shirt.
“Are you going to ask me what I do want?”
There’s the slightest twitch of his nose. Lips parting to show the peek of a tongue, caught between teeth. The briefest dip of his eyes. Down to the shadow between your breasts, pressed together as you lean forward to catch him.
“I know what you want, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Not gonna happen.”
The rejection stings, and you pout, “What isn’t?”
A sigh, and he’s stepping back into your space. Your hand flattens against his stomach, hard muscles beneath as his head tilts.
“You want a man to take you home. Treat you nice.” Logan’s eyes burn into you. Wide hands curving around your knees, thumbs pressing into flesh, “I’m not that guy.”
You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. How it thunders to the beat of the music muted outside this room. Dropping down to pulse between your thighs.
Wondering if he’s thought about you, the way you have him. How he could both see and miss so much at once.
“You’re wrong,” Your head shakes, “I don’t want that.”
A breath, before you’re confessing, ”I want you.”
Logan's eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip.
“‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”
Your hands skate lower, fingers tracing the edge of his belt buckle. His nostrils flare - a warning, though he does not move.
“Supposed to keep me out of trouble,” You echo, “But what if I want a little trouble in me?”
The smile you give him is sweet, a tilt of your head as he catches your hand. Thick fingers curl at your wrist, holding your hand in place. A thumb pressed up against your pulse.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” He rasps, voice low.
You’re undeterred.
“Could get on my knees.” You coo, “You could show me. Would you like that?”
Logan’s jaw grits. His grip loosens just long enough to feel your wrist flex - before he guides your hands, pressing your palms flat against the polished wood.
“It’s not going like that,” He husks. The tone is the same as when he’s ordering you around, one that makes your back go straight, “Those are staying right there. Got that, honey?”
All you can do is nod, as his hands skate up your thighs. Fingers massaging into flesh, soft and smooth as he eases them wider apart. Fitting himself closer between them.
The way he looks at you now is the way he did before.
Focused, as your dress inches higher. The fabric pooling at your hips as they tilt toward him, the pretty lace between your thighs now on display.
“Look at you,” His tongue clucks. A finger tracing the elastic edge, as you clench in anticipation, “Need this, don’t you?”
Drifting across, a thumb pressing against the fabric. It sends a jolt through you, your fingers almost reaching for him before you remember.
“Good girl.” He muses, as your hands flatten again.
The slightest pressure as the pad of his thumb slips up. Nudging against your clothed clit, as you inhale a sharp breath.
Pressing, and circling. It’s agonizingly slow, his eyes flicking up to watch the way you bite back a whimper. Your hips flexing into his touch, aching for more.
It lifts, so he can see how the fabric has dampened. Clinging to your skin, his knuckle tracing your seam.
“Making a mess.”
You can only whine in reply. Afraid that he’ll stop if you make too much noise. If you move - he’s made it clear he’s in charge here, and for once you’re willing to follow.
The pad of his thumb pulling back, a faint shine in the neon-bathed room.
“That for me?”
Your head nods, “Logan, please-”
There’s a sharp flash of teeth. Fingers pressing low, fitting against you, “You want me here?”
“Yes.”
You need him. Need anything he’ll give you, the sharp pinch in your palms where your nails bite into flesh.
“Ask me.” He coos.
“Please put use your fingers,” It comes in a rush, “Want you in me-”
Logan smirks, as his fingers slip beneath the waistband. Air sucked through clenched teeth when he meets slick, soaked skin. A teasing swirl against your clit before he’s parting you.
The tip of his middle finger tracing your hole, before it dips inside. His hips flex against the wooden edge, when you clench around him immediately. Trying to draw him deeper, as he works himself further in.
His fingers are much thicker than yours. A second already tracing where he opens you up. Teasing the tip in as his hand flexes, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit.
Your head tips forward. Each breath growing shorter, as you’re stretched around him. That slight ache unfurling into pleasure. Panting, as the pump of his fingers grow louder - the muffled cadence of skin against skin each time his palm collides with your cunt.
The fabric strains against his hand, his knuckles pressed against the soaked fabric.
Something bright burns in your belly, as your knees press into his hips. It makes you break the rules - a hand grasping at his arm. Anchoring yourself with your grip.
“I wanna watch. Let me see you.”
He lets you. A tap against your hip so you can lift. Carefully pulling your underwear down, easing them over the heels of your boots.
The lace disappears into his jacket pocket. His palms against your inner thighs, spreading you open.
You both watch, when his fingers fit inside you this time. Two sinking down to the knuckle, slick and shining.
Unable to bite back the moan this time, though he does not shush you. His eyes fixed on your face instead, watching how your brow pinches when his fingers crook deep inside you. Searching.
The way you go jolt and then go tense when he finds it, a soft cry loosening.
“You been fucked like this before?” Logan growls, his fingers dragging against that soft spot inside you with his emphasis.
Your head shakes, when he does it again. Eyes dropping to watch his how hand looks, how you wrap around his fingers. The slick shine as they pump a little faster.
His other hand taps against your thigh.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“No,” It comes out hushed. Needy. “Never.”
His lips part with his groan, baring his teeth. With the way he touches you - his thumb moving to rub circles against your clit - it’s not long before he has you close.
A swiftly building pressure in your belly. That space between you eases as your knees close around his hips. His head tilting until his nose ghosts against your cheek.
Breath hot against your neck, as he inhales you. The slightest scrape of teeth that makes you bear down on his fingers - so careful not to leave a mark behind.
“Logan,” You pant. “That feels, ah, I think I’m gonna come-”
He groans against your skin, keeping the same pace. Feeling how you forget yourself - grasping at him, arching into his touch. Your muscles going tight as your breath grows short - panting.
“Give it to me,” Logan growls, “Come on my fucking fingers, baby.”
It’s impossible not to listen. You come, with his thumb pressing against your clit. His fingers notched deep inside you, as he feels your pulse racing beneath his lips.
The moan that rips from you pitches up, and then goes silent.
It leaves you breathless. Deep waves throbbing inside you, as you dampen his palm. Washing over and pulling you under, as your vision darkens.
“That’s fucking it. Come on, honey.” He coos, “Just look at you, so fucking pretty.”
The pump of his fingers goes still, the tips still crooking, as the tight pulses wane. The air comes rushing back into your lungs as you come back to yourself, your hands fisted in his jacket.
His chest heaves. Eyes hungry, when he slips from you. Slick clinging to them, webbing between his fingers as he pulls them up to the light.
Before he’s focusing on you again, his other hand thumbing at your lip.
“Open.”
They part automatically. Closing around the fingers he feeds you. The salt of his skin pairing with the sweet tang of your release, too blissed out to do anything but suck them clean.
“Good girl.”
It’s soft, as his fingers press down. Spreading, until you’ve cleaned yourself from them. Only when they slip from you, does his head dip.
A soft sound as his mouth presses against yours. There’s the sweep of his tongue against your lip, needy and insistent. You part for him, swallowing the moan as he tastes you. Teeth and tongue - deepening the kiss as his hands grip at your waist.
Letting your hands grasp at his shoulders. Tug at his hair until you’re pulled flush against him, your tits crushed against his chest.
Hungry, threatening to devour you, until you mumble his name.
Bringing him back to himself. Sharing a breath, Logan’s forehead pressed to yours when he pulls back. Those spit-slick fingers dropping down.
Palming himself roughly, where his cock strains - thick and hard against his jeans. A bitten-back groan, the word “fuck” rumbling deep in his chest as his hips flex into his hand.
“You going to listen now? Get that out of your system?” It comes out ragged, and you’re nodding.
All your sharp edges smoothed down. Blissfully complacent, as his fingers get a better grip on your waist. Bringing you down to the floor with wobbly legs, his hand coming to grasp at your upper arm.
“Good.” He growls, “Come on.”
A sharp tug, and you almost trip over yourself to follow.
“I’m taking you home.”
ahh I had the idea for this and had to jot it down! and I do know he goes by james/jimmy in the 70s because it’s pre-weapon-x, but I'll be keeping it as logan for this. (And I am thinking this will be a two-shot - give her a chance to get what she wants 😏💖)
Been thinking about him non-stop omg I need help😭 low quality edit high quality man
@clancybrownsbf @naughtydogg @fossil-creek @enfp-shoga-dilfholic
please finish quickly i lowkey NEED more of your work,, like im going feral bc i dont have new ones sooooo,,
Guys I know I have so many wips but… Is this anything???
Hypersexual/Dirty Minded Reader Hcs
FWB Relationship
You keep making so many sex jokes around him (you aren’t trying to flirt or anything it’s just your humor) and it gets him so riled up that it leads to Charlie just fucking you
A girl✅️ noisy✅️ I'm right here and I check all the boxes for him🤭
I will be that girl 👅
fantasizing about a fictional guy who would probably be a horrible boyfriend but being delusional and thinking he’d have a soft spot for me
which f1 driver should i draw next
(i have already done oscar)
(tumblr only allows 12 options)
don’t talk to me i’m sobbing over my oscariño in the grass and salvaging a few points
(MY SHAYLAAAAAA 😭😭😭)
me the entire race weekend
you just know jack frost is nipping at that nose HARD
when ur enjoying a fic then y/n gets a name and a race out of nowhere
(do i seem like a suzie to you????)
when they can’t fill out their sleeves
