#FULL THREE COURSE MEAL

[indigopoptart]

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

Season 1 episode 2 [... After the Phantoms of Your Former Self] - part 2/3

- [Daniel] "White master, Black student, but equal in the quiet dark" - *spits out the water I just drunk* DANIEL MOLLOY THE QUEEN THAT YOU ARE. And Louis immediately answering the provocation with a slam down of his own. I am so here for the Louis/Daniel bromance, the way they can just spend hours snarking at each other. Saltmates, if you will.

Louis is such a Bitch, the way he decides to eat that fox in front of Daniel to remind him that "vampires are killers", and the way he lets the blood drip, when canonically vampires never waste any blood (at least in the book, that's one of the thing Lestat repeats often, a vampire's feeding is clean, no trace of blood left anywhere, but in a visual media about vampires, of course it looks better to have the blood dripping on the chin after, sometimes you gotta privilege aesthetic over function).

[Louis] "Vampires are killers, apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment, the ability to see a human life in its entirety, not with any mawkish sorrow, but with the thrilling satisfaction of being the end of that life and having a hand in the divine plan."

Yeaaah, like Daniel says, "don't expect every reader to swallow that one". Because for one thing, you don't even fully believe it, Louis, you who's about to spend several years starving yourself feeding only on rats and cats, you who just had a fox for supper instead of going hunting, you who hates feeding on humans and doesn't let even your fellow vampires witness you feeding (book canon), you who also goes during the 20th century from crisis of faith to fully atheist and uncaring about religion... Pretty words. Empty words. I'm not buying it.

"Mawkish": lacking flavor or having an unpleasant taste / exaggeratedly or childishly emotional (Merriam-Webster). Well I didn't know that word. Collins Dictionary tells me that the best translation to French would be "mièvre", and now I am loving this even more. "Mièvre" is not a very used word in French, which is a shame because it's a very pretty and very evocative word, and "mawkish" definitely gives me the same impression. Yey, I learned something new today! New word to incorporate to my vocabulary.

- I swear I'm not trying to comment every single minute of this episode, but every single minute brings something interesting. I have to stop on Louis and Lestat's conversation about languages and killing being its own language, as a multilingual person myself (I could spend hours talking linguistics, sorry not sorry):

[Lestat] "'When I first started learning English, I abhorred it. Every word felt like a doorknob falling out of my mouth. Chapeau is a hat, étoile was a star...' [Louis] 'Killin' folks ain't a second language!' [Lestat] 'But when I started dreaming in English, that's when I embraced it. And now, I have English consonants to thank for this astonishing jawline.' [Louis] 'These are nightmares I'm having, Lestat, not dreams.'"

Firstly, yeah, Lestat's right, "hat" is weird. It's chapeau in French, cappello in Italian, kapela in Greek, even quba'a in Arabic, and Arabic is not even an Indo-European language... The heck does hat come from? *resists the urge to go linguistic deep dive* Secondly, yeah, he's right, he does have an amazing jawline - taking this opportunity to bring attention to the scar on the corner of his mouth, book readers know what's up. Where was I? Ah, yeah. No, Lestat's right about a foreign language sounding weird in your mouth until you start to understand its spirit instead of only its letter - words falling out of your mind versus dreaming in that language. Been talking English for long enough that I do dream in English, and been multilingual all my life so I adapt to languages fast enough, but it's still a struggle. I'm fluent in Spanish now, but I don't dream in Spanish yet, and I sometimes feel like the word sounds wrong when it actually sounds like it should.

What it means in regard to Louis is that he's a slow learner. Gotta sound the kill one by one, taking your time, before you get to be a consummate killer. Can't learn a language in a night. Can't learn a language if you don't practice. Can't get used to killing if you don't kill, and can't survive if you don't kill, and vicious circle, doesn't kill>doesn't survive>doesn't practice>doesn't learn>doesn't survive>doesn't kill... Extremely interesting to see that Lestat IS actually teaching Louis about vampire ways, but Louis is not ready to listen yet, or, to continue the metaphor, they're not speaking the same language and they haven't learned to understand each other's language (not talking about accents obviously, but once again taking the opportunity to praise both Sam and Jacob's vocal work, between Sam's French accented drawling English and Jacob's Creole slang in NOLA and flat "standard" English in Dubai, it's a feast for the ears).

Okay, while Lestat's teaching Louis how to read minds (the Mind Gift, that book!Louis actually doesn't get in the books until very, very late on, and isn't good at, and doesn't show), wanna just say: look how giddy they are! Look how soft they are with each other! Look how fondly Louis speaks to Lestat, how fondly Lestat looks at Louis! We forget, and Louis too, but in between the misunderstandings and the drama and the anguish, they DID love each other, they DID have good times, they DID build a life with each other. It wasn't complete (and no I'm not talking about darling Claudia, I'm talking about speaking the same language), but it was good enough for quite a few years.

Oh man, Louis reading his family's minds, I coulda told him that's a bad idea *points to every literature with a man reader*, but also that passage in Narnia (Dawn Trader) when Lucy spies on her school friends and hear things she didn't want to read and didn't have to know. Don't have time to go search for that passage now, but Aslan tells her something like "some things really do not need be done", or sum' like that.

- Oh, hey, look. More social commentary. That white guy's gonna get eaten if he keeps patronising Louis like that. "You truly are an exceptional Negro" - hey Lou baby, can I kill him please? Lemme kill him for you. "I had let them talk to me like that so long, I had stopped hearing it" - oh, and Louis' accent is slipping here, can you hear it. Really, REALLY love how that change from book canon adds so many layers to Louis' character. Hey, have I said lately that Louis' my favourite? 'Cause Louis is my favourite. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Subject, verb, agreement, sir. Smile, nod, yes sir." - AWARDS FOR JACOB, all the awards for Jacob please, and my gods how much do I adore Louis, that sassy, snarky, bitchy queen. I want to have a book club with him.

"But I wasn't a man anymore. I was something else. I had powers now, and decades of rage to process, and it was both random and unfortunate, the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery." - so first, Jacob keeps on flexing his vocal skills by letting Louis slip more and more back to his original accent, and then, YES KING, get his ass, DRAIN HIM. And in a more meta way, all hails liberation movements and the process of reclaiming one's identity. Maybe not through murder, we all ain't lucky enough to be vampires, but yeah, rage is a good tool actually. Rage can lead to enormous movements that change the fabric of society for the better. Never underestimate the power of repressed rage finally expressing itself when it's yielded by clever, resourceful, empathic beings. Sorry, that was the "segregated Southern States social commentary as a mirror for 21st century's current liberation movements social commentary" minute, back to the vampires.

[Lestat] "You are a library of confusion" - first of all, Sam's delivery, with the hand gestures and the head shake, MAGNIFICENT, but also, it's Lestat starting to realize that maaaaaaybe he bit more than he can chew. Maaaaaybe.

[Louis] "'There's some things you don't get about America, Lestat.' [Lestat] 'Yes, let's have this conversation again.' [Louis] 'Colored; white. Creole; French. Queer; half-queer, mostly queer, what is it?' [Lestat] 'Non-discriminating.' [Louis] 'Complicated situation we got here is what I'm saying.'"

ICONIC. And also, maaaaan do I love that that's the road RJ and Cie decided to go with, one of the only changes I've been having issues is the time skip (from 1797 to 1910, cf. episode 1 part 1 rewatch). But this little conversation here actually warms me to it! The layers, man, the layers. Also, love that Lestat self-identifies as non-discriminating, that's so totally him about basically everything: skin color and ethnicity, sexuality and gender, species, age... Drama Queen really said "everything goes, eeeeeeverything".

- "How can I say no to you?" - awwww, Lestat is so whipped for Louis.

[Louis] "From 1912 to 1917" - oooh thanks for the time stamps. So it's been two years since he's turned, and it's on for 5 years of stability. The famous "honeymoon era".

[Louis] "I made a mountain of money, enough to retire and be buried like a pharaoh" - uuuuuh *side-eyes cautiously Queen of the Damned* let's not talk about Egyptian monarchy yet, yeah, that'll come to burn us soon enough.

Oops, the baby scene. And Louis realising he can't hold on to his family, that they're about to slip between his fingers like sand... Ow. [Grace] "I'm sure Mama would love to see you" *rapid glance* *giggles* That's siblings for "yeaaaah no, lol, Mama would definitely NOT love to see me, you crazy".

[Louis] "I no longer kill. My last victim was in the year 2000." BUT DID YOU EAT THE BABY, LOUIS. "I sit here a master of my instincts." But did you eat the baby, Louis. Slight aside, but how is this dinner still on going?? WAIT, go back a second: [Daniel] "And you know this how, you guys have a thread on 8chan?" - BENJI MENTION? I sooo want to see Benji's radio. Though if we still follow book events but on show timeline, Armand hasn't met Benji and Sybelle yet, because they're turned a decade after Daniel. Repeating myself, but RJ did say he'd adapt Prince Lestat, and Benji's one of the main players of this book, so I'm sure we'll see him, but it's going to be a while, I think.

- Wait, I need to relisten to that conversation:

[Daniel] "'And what about the others out there? Have they mastered theirs?' [Louis] 'Just the opposite. Most of them are slaves to the blood, exhausted from decades, centuries of hiding, giddy to increase their numbers.' [...] [Daniel] 'Is the pandemic the opening they've been waiting for?' [Louis] 'Pandemic, the unravelling of geopolitical foundations. [...] One of them, a brute in Madagascar, called it 'the great conversion'.'"

Oh, lots to say here. Lots that will spoil the books too. Because hey, y'all know what happens in Queen of the Damned, after Lestat's concert? Yepppp. Pretty sure Rolin Jones just planted the seeds of seasons 3 and 4. And served on a silver platter with delicious 21st century social commentary. I'm having the time of my life.

[Daniel] "'Well most people I know like to play a little ball in the afternoon, or maybe go down to the beach, catching a few rays.' [Louis] 'Yes. What on earth would a meth-addicted son of a coal miner in West Virginia want with eternal life?' [Daniel] 'Did you eat the baby?' [Louis] 'Or the Arab youth whose whole family were wiped from existence...' [Daniel] 'Did you eat the baby?' [Louis] '... by a Western drone? No, I'm sure you're right.'"

SHOTS FIRED. And another Benji mention! And a personal attack. And Louis being his glorious catty self. And Daniel being his glorious one-minded self. We're heading for another "outburst", lmao.

The Damek scene is just so fucking weird, I'm wheezing. Nothing to say here, just: this show is a freaking comedy. Between Louis perfecting the Little Drink but his taste of the night just passing out, and Daniel going "you might have a drinking problem" and then going back to his idea of the night, "the goddamn baby, Louis, did you fucking eat the bloody baby", this is peak humor.

Aaaaaand we need a third part, still 15 minutes to go.

episode 1 | part 1 | part 3 | episode 3 | episode 4 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7

[asgardian--angels]

anyway I just want to say that I have absolutely loved season 2, every second of it. I don't care if I'm in the minority but I think s2 was even better than s1 - the emotions were visceral, intense, and at times darker, I actually enjoyed the faster pace, while there was less comedy overall I think the comedy they had landed more consistently, and if I didn't know that the season had been reduced in length & budget I wouldn't have guessed because the production quality seemed higher. While it would have been great to have those two extra episodes, I think they did fine without. I thoroughly enjoyed the attention that each character got, I loved every new character they introduced - ofmd has always been exceptional at giving even the most minor of characters presence and impact, and making us care about them. I love the attention to detail that's been put into the props and costumes, the music choices, and the gorgeous filming locations. I've been blown away by the layers of symbolism, the callbacks and parallels, the narrative reciprocity of the characters' journeys, things that will give us plenty of topics for discussion during this latest hiatus. A deep heartfelt thank you to every cast and crew member that made this season possible, especially the ones that haven't even been able to talk about the show with us yet. Each and every actor gave their all this season, and it comes across - every performance has been so utterly earnest, moving, witty, and brimming with raw talent. This show has brought me so much joy, and I cannot wait to see what's in store next.

[greensaplinggrace]

soulless angel arc is some delicious shit. by far the best part of the bangel relationship.

[br1ghtestlight]

bob loves cooking for linda and this is soo important to me

[rosekasa]

started feeling insecure abt the fact the only thing i want to draw rn is toxinelle and griffe noir but then i realised wtf is the point of being able to draw if not emo versions of your blorbos

[one-winged-dreams]

FUCK, it's werewolf hours, i've been consistently starving to death despite having eaten twice today

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

I ate so much food today lmfaooo

[milimeters-morales]

idk why my default “comfort idea” is someone feeding acau miles, or just any small kid, a nice meal. like i realize that i subconsciously project a lot onto the acau characters but i can’t find out if that’s one of those things or just something i find nice

[lithiumache]

i have no problem in “watching fanfiction” but i do have a problem with watching bad fanfiction, just boring, predictable, road-to-nowhere plots played out in the most basic way

[botanikos]

What’s your overall opinion of imps?

It takes Stolas quite some time to respond. Not because he lacks an answer, but because he worries over the specifics and the mechanics of his words, the weight they carry, and what he genuinely wants to get across. He is aware of the imps currently employed within his household, and likely to the Goetia as an entirety. Their position is not foreign to him, but it is one he is concerned with, especially as his feelings for a particular imp become overgrown like a thriving pothos. He wrings his hands, gaze narrowing. There are a few times in which his beak parts to speak, but words are thick and sticky as honey on his tongue. Only, they aren't sweet and cloying. ❝ I - I don't think my opinion matters. I don't necessarily DESERVE to have an opinion, now do I? And, well, it's complicated. But I do believe they are deserving of respect. I hold no feelings of negativity or hostility towards them. ❞ Considering he has spent most of his life around the imps running the palace and serving his family, he holds only fondness in his heart. Not that he was going to speak on such personal matters just yet.

[scrawlingskribbles]

god. I am. so Well-Fed right now hgjsfdhggdshsdgkj;;;;

[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[motleyfam]

Dick forgets to eat sometimes.

Jason can’t fathom it—the entire concept is foreign to him. For as long as he can remember, food’s always been on his mind. If he wasn’t digging through dumpsters for it, he was squirreling away whole pieces of fruit and unopened granola bars the kids at school carelessly left on their trays, picking up gigs babysitting the neighbor brats for the complimentary PB&Js, sitting through two-hour fire & brimstone church sermons daydreaming about the fried chicken and potato salad that would come after. Jason’s gone hungry more times than he can count but never once has he simply forgotten to eat.

Bruce says it’s something with the way Dick’s brain is wired. It’s why he can’t sit still very long without his leg jittering, why he talks a mile a minute when he gets going on a topic, why his apartment always looks like a tornado went through it.

All Jason knows is that it’s five p.m. and he’s starving.

Except he isn’t—not really. He had a bowl of Cap’n Crunch in Dick’s kitchen just that morning, milk and all. Jason’s gone far longer on far less, so he doesn’t know why his stomach's complaining so much today, why his head feels achy and light, why that tiny biting pain in his middle won’t shut up. He’s been living at the Manor for four months now and he’s already gone soft.

They’re walking through Bludhaven Shopping Centre, Dick babbling on about the last obstacle of the indoor minigolf course they just finished. Jason tries to listen, but his heart is beating strangely fast and the only thought pulsing through his mind is food, food, food—

And then abruptly, he notices that Dick’s stopped walking. He’s looking at Jason, brow furrowed and lips moving as if asking a question, but Jason isn’t hearing anything because his hands are shaking and his breaths are coming out quick and gaspy and even though he’d been looking forward to hanging out with Dick for weeks now he suddenly wants nothing more than to be back in the Manor where the pantry’s always stocked and the fridge is full and he can breathe.

And then he blinks and he’s sitting at a sticky food court table, and Dick’s got a hand on his back, saying “in and out, nice and slow, that’s it” and Jason’s got tears welling up in his eyes which pisses him off because that’s stupid, he’s being stupid, only cats and babies cry because they missed lunch, and—

And then there’s a soft pretzel in a paper wrapper being nudged into his hand by a guilty-faced Dick with a murmur of “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking” and it makes Jason want to crawl into a hole and die because he can’t just be fucking normal about this.

But there’s honey mustard sauce to dip it in, and a Chipotle bowl soon after, and tomorrow he and Dick both eat all three meals.

[novenoide]

tbh. tbh. I loved the across the spider verse movie but the ending immmmmediatiely made it feel like I got scammed

[whateveriwant]

might I request how tf 141 tries to turn you on maybe? Sorry kind of a weird request you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to ;-;

Not a weird request at all, anon! Hope you enjoy! 18+ only, GN!Reader

Price

Three words: full body massage

That man loves to get his hands on you, and it doesn’t even have to be sexual in nature, honestly. Any opportunity to touch you, to caress you, to help ease the tension from your body, he’ll gladly take it (and if afterwards you’ll let him ease himself into you, well, that’s just an added bonus 😉)

He might use special rollers or electric massagers sometimes, but mostly he just sticks to those big, strong hands of his

He'll start by slicking up his palms with some oil, warming it up before he applies it to your skin

Beginning with your shoulders, he’ll slowly work his way down your body, paying special attention to the areas you need most targeted

Aside from those tender spots, he’ll also be sure to focus on a few of your more erogenous zones, namely your thighs and your ass (he's an ass man for sure)

By the time he's finished, you're all supple and pliant before him, but there’s something else too – a sort of warm, fluttery feeling in your gut

Luckily, he knows just the remedy for that sensation. And oh! Would you look at that? You're already in his favorite position: prone

Ghost

We all know he tends to be a man of few words, and this applies to every environment he finds himself in

…At least, every environment outside the bedroom, that is

Because when he's in the mood, you best hold on tight to your pants if you don't want them flying off from how he talks to you (but, I guess, your pants coming off is his end goal anyway)

You'll just be going about your day, minding your business, when you'll get a call from him while he’s “busy” at work

He'll start off casual at first, inquiring about your day, your plans for the night, etc., but it won't take long for the conversation to steer to the real reason for his call: to describe the way he's going to fuck you when he gets home

He'll go into excruciating, toe curling detail about all the things he's going to do to you; just how good he’s going to fuck you until you forget your own name

I hope you're not in public when you take his call, otherwise you better have the poker face of a lifetime if you don't want to make a scene in front of several dozens of witnesses

Gaz

He's a big romantic at heart, so rather than just going straight for the bedroom, he'll slowly work his way up to it over the course of the evening

First, he'll treat you to a nice dinner – either by cooking it himself or by taking you to that fancy restaurant you love but think is much too expensive for every day dining

Beneath dimmed, romantic lighting, together you'll share a delicious meal, a glass or two of wine, and of course a tasty dessert to cap it all off

The conversation will be light and pleasant (nothing unbecoming whatsoever), but while he might not outright voice the plans he has for you later in the night, that look he keeps giving you from across the table speaks volumes

When you’ve finished your meal and gradually made your way back home/to the bedroom, even then he still isn't done buttering you up just yet

He'll put on some slow music, maybe light a couple candles to really set the mood, even draw you both a bath if you're feeling up to it

Once he does finally take you to bed, it'll be a seamless transition from an evening overflowing with desire and passion

Soap

‘Subtlety’ is not really a word in his vocabulary, so most of the time when he's horny, he's just turning to you and asking if you want to fuck

However, sometimes when you need a little more build up than that, he has a few tried and true methods he knows will work you up

He'll change so that he’s walking around your flat wearing a pair of gray sweatpants. Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, mind you

Whilst wearing said sweatpants, he'll proceed to stretch and flex around you, showing off all those muscles he knows you love, as well as highlighting a few other assets he knows drives you crazy (i.e. bulge printtttt 😍)

He'll then get really touchy with you, starting innocent at first – brushing an eyelash from your cheek, straightening the neck of your shirt – before he gets more and more brazen with his petting

And when he's real close like that, leaning right into your ear, he’ll mutter soft praises to you: telling you how beautiful you look, how good you smell, how soft your skin is where he’s touching just there

By the time he finally goes to ask if you want to have sex, he doesn't even get the words out before you're jumping him like a wild animal. All according to plan…