#Jimmy not james

[wyniepooh]

Loving him was never enough

you don’t have what logan needs, but he still takes all that he can.

Cage fighter!logan x reader. Mentions of violence. Porn with a little bit of plot. mdni; 18+

thinking about being logan’s plaything in his cage fighting days.

It’s not uncommon for the fighters to have a beautiful girl around their arms as they enter the ring, and though Logan usually resists against the fan girls who clamour around him in a frenzy, he figures a sweet thing like you could only do him some good.

Not only does it piss the other fighters off, (they hate to see the king of the cage also have a pretty girl like you beside him) turns out, you’re not half bad for company either.

You’re an anxious little thing, brows furrowed and eyes teary before every match. Logan doesn’t bother telling you that he’ll be fine, that he’s going to win guaranteed, that his punch is as hard as metal. Literally.

He hates to admit it, but he finds it endearing, the way you’re so worried for him. through his nonchalant front, he still wipes away your tears with his large hands before every match and reassures you, cooing, “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

When logan gets in the ring, the fight goes exactly as he expects it to go. The other guy is destroyed before logan even shows his true strength. In a spiteful and humiliating position, the fallen guy comments something like, “I’ll fuck your pretty girlfriend dumb.”

Logan hears, of course, and though the guy is already bleeding and sprawled over the mat on the ground in a pathetic display, and though logan definitely didn’t consider you his girlfriend, he throws the announcer to the side and pounces. Through gritted teeth and a bleeding forehead, he catches your eye, shaking his head lightly before knocking the other guy out.

You wait for him in the small public washroom afterwords, arms crossed and pouting. As Logan approaches the door and sees your stiff pacing around the room, he knows you’re mad. And he knows it won’t stay that way.

“‘was so worried, logan,” you practically run towards him, “why’d you have to go after him like that? he could’ve really hurt you.”

He scoffs and flashes you the fresh wad of cash. “Hurt me? Please.”

He stays still for as long as he can bear while you dab at the wound on his head with your sleeve, silently hoping you wouldn’t notice the red cut slowly healing by itself. When you try to touch his face, to run a finger down his cheek and his stubble, he grabs your wrist harshly to stop you.

You’re confused, confused as to why he allows you to trail along to his every fight and wipes your tears with such a gentle hand, but refuses to let you in. He doesn’t give you much time to think, though, because as soon as you part your lips to speak, he’s picking you up from under your arms and sitting you down on the cold sink counter.

there’s an aggressive desperation behind his kiss, probably produced by the adrenaline of the recent fight and triggered by the soft whine he heard from you when his teeth knocked against yours. His hand reaches down between your legs and drags your panties to the side, and before long, you’re biting his shoulder and mumbling, “‘gonna cum, logan, please, let me cum.”

He does, drawing out your short orgasm with a few more pumps of his fingers and a graze over your clit. When he’s done, you’re practically already numb, head limp on his shoulder as you hear the metal clinking of his belt.

“You want this?” He asks, holding your head up by your chin as he tilts his head and raises his brows. “You want me?”

You nod feverishly, half-lidded eyes flickering as you breathe, “yes, logan. need you.” Your head falls back against the mirror, and he looks down with a grin at the sight in front of him.

he hooks his arms around your knees to bring you closer before you take him to the hilt in one go, burying a mewl into his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist. The first thrust burns, always does, but only he can make you forget the pain in an instant. Soon, your hands are tangled in his hair, his beard is rubbing against your neck, and you’re begging, “please, lo, need it so bad. “ Logan fucks exactly like how he fights, thrusting into you so sharply your ass is sliding back on the metal counter with each movement of his hips.

He’s done this enough times to know what makes you whine and dig your fingernails into his back, but he still demands, every time, “that feel good, baby? you like that?” Of course, you don’t have to answer for him to know that it does, that it does feel good, so incredibly good, and that he’s hitting all the right spots in the body only he knows so well.

You aren’t the only one filling the room with lewd noises. Logan is panting too, the echoes of his each and every grunt reflecting off of every corner in the room and into your ear. It only makes your cheeks flush hotter, only encourages your hips to move more eagerly to match his pace.

It’s always when he’s just about there that Logan pulls back and looks down at where the two of you are connected, slowing down his strokes to slowly watch his bulging cock sink deep into your slopping cunt.

It’s the only opportunity with logan that you get to really look at him, to see the raw expression of euphoria on his face, teeth bared and mouth open. Some strands of previously gelled hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes rolling back with each press of his pelvis. Your eyes trace the sweat on his shoulder, the hair on his chest peaking from behind his white wife-beater, and the vein on his stomach that connects to the one on his dick.

You gaze flickers back at his face, and you extend a hand to guide his head towards you. He tries to turn away, as usual, and you hate that you know he’s holding back; limiting the noises he’s making, the pace he’s taking.

“Just use me, Logan. I know you want to,” you plead against his lips, inhaling a gasp as you press your lips onto his. You expect him to pull away, to push your head to the side and focus on finishing the other task at hand, but this time, he only pulls you closer, one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He doesn’t give you much time to be shocked before he resumes his previous pace, drilling into you with the same vigor, albeit a bit more sloppy than before.

Logan pulls back to catch his breath, and at the same time, you clench tightly around him. A low groan escapes him, a noise so animalistic and fervent that you reach your high right then and there, shrieking as your legs begin to shake.

He’s close too, you can feel it in his breathing, so you let him fuck you beyond your orgasm, even if it’s getting to be too much and you’re losing your thoughts by the second.

“nobody— ah— fucks my girlfriend,” he suddenly growls, lifting you up from under your arms and shoving you against the tiled wall. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to look into his hazel gaze as he spits, “n-nobody fucks you like I do.”

He plummets into you deep, leaning his lips in and making you swallow one last groan of his before you feel his warm release fill your insides.

When he’s done, Logan is supporting all your weight, your limp arms splayed around his sweaty back. You whimper at the emptiness as he pulls out, feeling his cum languidly drip down your inner thighs.

You’re too exhausted to realize what he just said, to react to what he just referred to you as, and as the fog of pleasure slowly unclouds Logan’s head, he’s glad he fucked you stupid enough to forget.

-

a/n: anyone else feel like they’re incapable of writing good smut? Hey Google how many other synonyms could there possibly be of the word ‘thrust’?

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Bell, Book and Candle (Richard Quine, 1958)

[diwhitney]

My echo, my shadow, and me

[vanmarkus]

HOUSE M.D. • S4E03 ↳ “97 Seconds”

[butternuggets-blog]

Me: ...What have you got in your mouth?

Franklin Expedition: *chews faster*

[redroses07]

real shit

[titanebaby]

collage tarot deck! scanned all of the major arcana & some of my fav minor arcana

inspired by 306saint’s trash tarot <3

[pureanonofficial]

Please, God, let me live again.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946) dir. Frank Capra

[jimmyspades]

"I don't think it's such a bad thing to hang your dirty laundry out in front of the camera every so often. Screw it! Take off your clothes and let 'em see your underwear."

James Spader photographed by Dewey Nicks for Interview, April 1993

[fear-is-truth]

NASTY – tate langdon x f!reader

tags: mature content 18+・fem!reader・smut・unprotected p in v・mirror sex ・choking

a/n: super rushed due to school n shit.

you came home from school early, greeted briefly by moira as you walked in. everything felt normal, like any other day. you climbed the stairs, expecting to find tate sprawled out on your bed, waiting for you like always.

but when you opened the door just a crack, you saw him at your desk, not on your bed. his back was hunched over your laptop, lips slightly parted, cheeks tinged pink, and brows furrowed in concentration. your stomach twisted in a strange mix of shock and amusement, watching him for a moment, trying not to laugh. you nudged the door open a bit more, letting it creak this time. his head snapped up at the sound, eyes wide with panic.

“shit—!” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut so fast you thought the screen might crack, before frantically fumbling with his belt and jeans.

you frowned, walking over before he could say anything. without thinking, you opened the laptop back up. the screen flickered on, and your face immediately flushed with heat. porn. he had been watching porn on your laptop. it wasn’t anything too freaky, but the actress… she looked a lot like you. same skin tone, hair, eyes. you stared at the screen for a second longer, before pausing the video. then turned to him, biting back a smile. “seriously, tate?”

his face was still flushed as he avoided your gaze, picking at a strand on his ripped jeans. “i… i missed you,” he mumbled, “you were gone all day, and… well…” he trailed off, clearly embarrassed and fumbling for any excuse.

“so, you thought this was a good idea?” you teased, gesturing toward the laptop. “you know you didn’t need porn, right?” tate looked up at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, unsure if he should be relieved or more embarrassed. “wait, what?”

you leaned in closer, pressing your lips to the side of his neck. “i’m right here. you don’t need that anymore.”

•••

you were lying in a tangled heap of limbs on the mattress, your clothes discarded carelessly on the floor. curling an arm around your torso, tate flipped you over to lay flat on your stomach. warm palms pressed onto the globes of your ass, fingers kneading the soft flesh. he drew back one hand before bringing it down firmly, the smack ringing in your ears. “you like it when i’m nasty, don’t you?” he gritted out in a voice that was slightly more raspy than his own.

“y-yeah.” you managed breathlessly, the rapid beating of your heart in your chest was suffocating. you knew that tate was only re-enacting the porn video he had been watching, but the dominance sent a rush of desire through your loins.

“hm, good girl.” he ran his forefinger slowly down your folds, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “haven’t even touched you and you’re so wet for me already.” the pad of his finger circled your entrance, spreading your wetness. you whimpered and wiggled you hips hopefully, desperate to feel some sort of friction to free you of the ache between your legs. “so needy for my cock, hm?”

tate leaned back to sit on his ankles, kneading your asscheeks before spreading you open; exposing your pussy. already swollen and dripping, eager for him to use. he wrapped his fingers around his member and gave himself a few harsh pumps, before lining himself up at your sopping entrance. your breath hitched when you felt the tip breaching your hole, precum mingling with your slick.

he rocked forwards and bottomed out in one single thrust, a whimper escaped your lips, fingers clawing at the bedsheets. the sudden intrusion stung, and you were used to more prep and a much slower pace, but the second he pulled out and slammed back into you, you almost choked on your own spit. gone was the burning sting of the stretch in your cunt, replaced by euphoric pleasure. each thrust hit deep within you, the ridges and veins mapping his cock sliding against your walls before pulling all the way back before slamming himself to the hilt.

not slowing down his pace, rough hands closed around your shoulders and pulled you upwards flush against his chest, arching your back like a strung bow and pinning your wrists behind your back. a strained moan sounded from above you, the delicious way your tight walls milked his cock only spurring him to fuck you with abandon.

fingers tangled in your hair and yanked your head back, practically folding you in half. tate admired the way your eyes bulged and rolled backwards as you met his gaze, slack-jawed and a glistening string of saliva on your chin.

“hngmm– ack!”

you spluttered when the grip he had on your hair tightened, the tip of his cock nudging your g-spot sending sparks exploding under your eyelids. the constantly moving shadow of your joined bodies danced across the wall opposite the bed, and you felt tate’s lips brush lightly against your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

“i want you to look in the mirror and see yourself, taking my cock so well.” his voice was dangerously soft, the filthy words squeezed through clenched teeth as he continued to piston himself inside you, the flesh of your ass rippling with each forceful slam. tate’s hand snaked to the column of your throat, four fingers digging against one side of your neck while his thumb occupied the other, rubbing slow circles along your jugular.

you gulped for air when he slackened his grip around your neck, oxygen filling your lungs with a sting. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, looking like a complete wreck — skin glistening with sweat, breasts bouncing in tandem with his thrusts.

“ugh f-fuck, m’ gonna cum.” he grunted as your cunt tightened around him like a vice. and yet he persevered in his pace, continuing to thrust into you despite the fact that his movements were starting to get sloppier by the second. your vision momentarily turned white as you screamed out your climax, velvety walls pulsating around him, falling apart from the force of your pleasure. you felt him still against your body, chin resting on your shoulder before he spilled himself inside of you, pumping you to the brim with his come.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[slutforgarlogan]

Peter Maximoff as your bf | hc's

SFW + NSFW!!

A/N: i am detrimentally ill rn so expect spam while im ill !! tysm anon for requesting this mwah ily, everyone feel free to hit up my inbox

SFW !!

➳ If he sees things he thinks you'll like, he definitely buys steals them for you

➳ I think hes the type of person that dapples in all the love languages, however i can see him being big on words of affirmation

➳ Like, is the type to tell you how much he loves you/how pretty you look/how much he appreciates you ALL THE TIME. probably accidentally just slips it out sometimes, just says it as soon as he thinks it

➳ Definitely down to do anything you want to do, just say the word and he'll speed you wherever whenever

➳ Type to give you loads of little kisses all over your face while you're both giggling over it

➳ Dates with Peter can vary between big movie marathons/game nights with an abundance of snacks that he eats most of, to him speeding you over to places you'd brought up that you'd wanted to go to

➳ Imagine breaking into an indoor playground/softplay with him after hours (COULD write a fic ab that lmk if u guys want that)

NSFW !!

➳ DEFINITELY uses his powers, human vibrator guys HUMAN VIBRATOR

➳ That being said, DONT use a vibrator if ur horny, just give Peter a call, he'll be right there

➳ DEFINITELY a switch, subby Peter is so dreamy and its canon u cant tell me its not, but if u wanna sub he's down for that too

➳ If he's sub, HES SO WHINY, this man is loud he will not hesitate to tell you how good you make him feel

➳ DANGEROUSLY GOOD WITH HIS TONGUE.

➳ If you're needy for him, he'll eat you out and finger you, and he wont stop unless you ask him to, he definitely gets insanely pussy drunk

➳ aftercare king, ESPECIALLY if you've safeworded him this man will be making sure you're the most comfortable you've ever felt in your life

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser @the-ultimate-theatre-kid @bluerthanvelvet444 @lvxybby @coentinim @gl00m-d00m

[thebarroomortheboy]

During the scene where James Stewart hiccups when drunk, you can see Cary Grant looking down and grinning. Since the hiccup wasn't scripted, Grant was on the verge of breaking out laughing and had to compose himself quickly. Stewart (apparently spontaneously) thought of hiccuping in the drunk scene, without telling Grant. When he began hiccuping, Grant turned to Stewart, saying, "Excuse me." Grant turned his head to stifle his laughter and said, "Nothing". The scene required only one take.

CARY GRANT and JAMES STEWART in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (1940) | dir. George Cukor

[lizztaylor]

James Stewart as Tony Kirby in You Can’t Take It with You (1938)

[wyniepooh]

Protect

Logan protects you, in the only way he knows how.

bodyguard!logan x reader. just assume that reader is some high profile public figure lol. mentions of smoking. use of the nickname ‘kid’.

you could no longer feel the expression on your face.

It was only when you passed by a window— an awfully tall glass panel with an elaborate gilded frame— did you notice that the pleasant smile that had donned your face for the entire evening was finally beginning to falter.

a flash and click of a camera went off behind you, and through the reflection of the window, you could see a reporter walking eagerly towards you. you quickly swiveled in the opposite direction, hands grasped onto the front of your long gown as your feet guided your body towards a dark and isolated corridor.

but, you weren’t scared or alarmed in the slightest at the empty and unexplored room you were entering. because you knew that wherever you went, he was right behind.

after endless fidgeting with the hatch on a pair of doors, you could only sigh in relief when it finally opened. you stepped out into the balcony, sighing as you felt the abundance of fresh air fall over you.

your silent lonesome didn’t last. before long— just like you had suspected— a quiet, but familiar pair of footsteps trailed out from behind.

“I’m fine, logan. I just needed some air,” you turned your head slightly to the side. “you don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

he aligned himself beside you, arms clasped together behind his back. “Actually, I do. according to the contract I signed with your father, you require 24-hour supervision-“

“Please, enough,” you cut off, head fully turned to face him as you felt a warm teardrop drip down your cheek. you could see the rapid rise of your own chest, the consistent motion getting faster and more panicked by the second. you gripped the metal railing of the balcony and closed your eyes, hoping the cold sting would distract from the embarrassment.

when you opened your eyes again, logan seemed to be standing closer than before. his previous— and usual— stern expression was long gone, replaced by one of genuine empathy.

His softened brows twitched. you watched as his hand slowly reached up towards your face, arm pausing for just a second before a pointer finger extended gently to your cheek. You looked away as the wetness spread across your flushed face, and when you heard the parting of his lips, you turned your head and swatted his wrist away.

you spun towards the sky, looking at no star in particular, but focused on the scattered beads in the nightfall regardless. All was completely silent and still for a minute, which provided just enough time for you to slow your breathing and dab away at the mascara you were sure had traveled down your face.

You had just made a decision in your head to leave and return to the spectacle when you heard the muted click of a lighter. you smelled the tobacco before you saw it, and when you did, nothing but a scoff could escape you.

“I- I don’t think you’re allowed to do that here.”

he shrugged, and simply took an experienced drag of the cigar in response. He leaned a little closer to you, supporting his weight on the balcony railing as he raised the lit object up to your face. “who’s here to stop me? Or you, for that matter?”

You laughed dryly, crossing your arms as you asked, “are you seriously offering me a cigar? I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

He bounced his arm in suggestion of the cuban again and muttered, “kid, this is me protecting you.”

your smile faded away as you took in his words, and after a long second, your hand came up to reach for the cigar. but before your fingers could hook around the shaft, Logan opened his mouth and moved his arm away.

“ah— slow down. i still have a job to do. It’s my obligation to at least teach you how to smoke it first, so you don’t puke all over the prime minister or something. Plus,” he bent his head in, lips angled towards your ear, “if you’re not holding it and you get caught, you can talk your way out of it.”

he retracted his head, raising his eyebrows as he took one last puff and switched the direction of the cigar to face you. “Don’t be shy, kid. Just put your mouth around it.”

You followed his instruction with skepticism, delicately wrapping your lips around the brown paper of the cigar with your eyes down. With a mouthful of tobacco smoke, you looked up from your downward gaze, and as your eyes connected with his hazel glare, logan’s proud smirk seemed to falter for just a second; the corners of his mouth dropped, and his lips parted for a minute too long before he spoke.

“Just… don’t inhale into your lungs like you would a cheap cigarette,” he whispers, “you’re meant to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, clearing your throat as you watched the smoke dissipate into the dark background of the sky. “enjoy what?”

You notice the hesitancy in his response, his arm pausing half-way to his face as his eyes flicker to the imprint of your lipstick on the stick. finally, he puts his mouth on top of the red stain, takes a puff, and breathes, “the taste.”

The moonlight reflected off of his slicked back hair, and it looked like a star or two were dancing around in his eye. It was only now did you see the prominence of his wrinkles and the grey in his beard that you had never noticed before.

you don’t know why you stayed silent. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything to talk about— your very recent breakdown provided obvious proof that you needed to talk. And if there was anyone you could and wanted to talk to, it had to be logan.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take this job anyways?”

he chuckled. “Honestly, I’d like to say some sappy bullshit like ‘i love helping others’ but,” he purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’d find the real reason quite selfish,” he responds.

You laugh. “So, for the money?”

“Something like that.”

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’d know exactly what to do when I’m freaking out, even if it’s by giving me a cigar at an event where reporters are swarming everywhere.”

He smiles, a lopsided one that only further emphasizes his wrinkles hidden within his beard. “I’m glad you consider me as a friend.”

You remained quiet. After a windy moment, you stepped closer to where he was leaning against the metal railing. You grabbed his wrist which contained the still-lit cigar, and turned your back towards his chest to take a hit. You look back to him, blowing the smoke into his face.

“a friend, right.”

now it was his turn to be silent, eyes frantically scanning over your face before lowering down to the hand around his wrist. His gaze jumps back to your eyes, a fog of something indistinguishable knitted between his brows.

“you know, I don’t really taste anything special. Just smokey.” you turned, pressing your chest against his as a casual hand toyed with the edge of his shirt collar. There was no space between the two of you, and yet there was no resistance, from either side, to step back and separate. “What’s it supposed to taste like?”

He tilted his head. “a little earthy. nutty,” his unoccupied hand fell upon the small of your back. “sweet.”

you couldn’t tell if he had more to say, but if he did, his words were all swallowed up by your lips on his. The hand on your waist tightly squeezed, pulling you flush onto him until the two of you were on the edge of practically falling over the balcony. both of your hands curled tightly around his gelled hair, tugging harshly as you silently gasped against his mouth.

the desperate roughness of his teeth scraped against your lip, and your respective chests rose up and down in synch with one another before he pulled back, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your hair.

“I’m supposed to protect you, kid,” he panted.

your fingers lingered over his chin, nails scratching at his overgrown stubble. You pleaded, “Logan, please, i’ve never felt so safe.”

you felt a sudden rush of coldness as Logan turns his head away. “I lied, you know. I didn’t exactly take this job just for the money. Your dad pays well, of course, but, that’s not why I stayed.”

He turns back, the star-splattered sparkle still twinkling in his eye as he mumbles, “you’re the selfish reason, sweetheart. you always have been.”

you pulled his forehead to yours, arms crossed around his neck to bring his warmth even closer. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

“Logan,” was all you muttered, and it was all it took before a low growl escaped through his chest and he drew your face in firmly by your chin.

You heard the faint drop of the half-gone cigar on the ground, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You tasted the sweetness on his tongue, just fine.

-

a/n: logan was canonically a bodyguard and I feel like we writers need to take more advantage of that fact

[smallandangry24]

So disappointed that the Scott/Logan ship is called Scogan. Clearly a missed opportunity for SlimJim

[perryfellow]