#but i think with this common ground they could make it work

[haveihitanerve]

Steph and Bruce things-

Bruce once said- “when I die I want you to be the one who lowers me into the grave so you can let me down one last time” and dick gaped at him in horror, jason exploded into laughter, and steph glared at him before giving him a high five

Steph ends every argument with him with “i won this argument” even if she- especially if she very clearly did not

When she gets injured Bruce forces her to stay at the manor. Its the only time he is permitted to actually parent her because she is injured and needs to recover, but thats not to say she doesn't break into the cave and annoy him during work and force him to take her with him everywhere

Steph has all the codes and keys for everything in Wayne Manor/Batcave, but still breaks in everytime she comes over. It drives Bruce insane

When bruce gets injured shes one of the kids who sits at his side the whole time, especially if its because of her or its a big injury(dick is usually the other one)

When he gets sick she forces him to sit on the couch with her all day and folds him into a burrito blanket and eat junk food and slightly burnt soup with bread and watch trashy tv

When she gets sick bruce wraps her in a blanket burrito that she actually cannot escape from and takes her everywhere with him, just carting around his technically not daughter who is forced to be there and take the medicine he gives her and food and everything because shes wrapped in a straight jacket blanket

He picks her up from school and will have the most embarrassing songs ever playing, or will call out something awful like “is that the boy you have a shrine of in your room?”

Will lecture her in front of her friends

Steph changes all his contacts frequently so he always has to spend some time deciphering who it is based on what she called them, or he just starts every conversation with “who is this?”

She once forced him to come to a concert with her and buy matching t-shirts and merch and whenever shes feeling down he wears the shirt as like.. Solidarity and it makes her feel better

Every year for her birthday or christmas or something he sends her a bat symbol, either in purple or black or some other color and every year on his birthday she actually wears it for one day and lets him “claim” her as a bat

She was the first one to visit the League and gave everyone whiplash and made Batman actually break composure

Bruce will actively go on the patrol route she goes on and throw water or like snacks at her while screaming “Hydrate or diedrate!!!” and it is common to see a screaming Spoiler sprint away from Batman across rooftops

They have a snowball fight every year and she recruits every batkid to help

When shes on her period bruce “grounds her” from patrol and forces her to accept his mother henning just once a month. Steph doesn't actually mind. 

Steph gives him actually useful dating advice

Since shes not actually his daughter she lacks the baggage of being his child and tells him when hes messed up and he and Babs have like meetings with him to explain what hes done wrong with his kids and how to fix it/be better. Dick is also sometimes involved in these meetings when he is not the offended party

thats all i could think of rn but please feel free to add more 💗

[marxistgnome]

The doctor and picard should form an unlikely friendship over the fact that they lived in a different world and formed a family and a life only to be removed from it to find that little time had actually passed and that they can never return and also because they have the same haircut.

[danmeichael]

both ad lib lovers and the summer hikaru died to something really interesting wherein they take typical genre conventions and set-ups of BL and place them into a genre other than romance, while still portraying the romantic undertones. where the summer hikaru died does this with horror, ad lib lovers does this with comedy.

as opposed to hikaru's focus on horror, in ad lib lovers, jealousy, desire, and a fear of inadequacy and loving someone more than they love you is portrayed through the lens of improv. this accurately depicts that having a crush on someone as an adult is humiliating.

[get-more-bald]

the thing about X6 is that he's essentially a slave given to the Sole Survivor by the Institute. and I think that the fandom's treatment of him would be different if the game addressed it or even just said it

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[aechlys]

Imagine working with me, I start every one of your days with the low hum of BT songs whether you like it or not because I have zero chill these days lol.

[fatal-blow]

growing up, my mum always told me, whenever i went to the doctors or any sort of health professional, that it was important that i told them that i was hypermobile. she'd done the tests with me (herself being hypermobile and disabled in large part because of it) and though she didn't know the details, she knew that hypermobility was important to have in my health record.

so it was to my great surprise and displeasure that, whenever i told doctors i was hypermobile, it was skipped over. never addressed, never touched on, not even a comment to belie what that meant for me. i myself didn't know the impact hypermobility could have on a person, but my mother had been insistent about that fact. it was important, so why did no one else seem to think so?

i grew up with kids in school who were on the extreme ends of hypermobility. i knew a boy in middle school who could put both feet behind his head. i knew a girl in high school with long, spindly fingers who showed me how far backwards her arm could bend.

both of them had health problems, which became more profound as they aged. i never knew the details, but it stuck out that they were hypermobile, and so was i, and with my own health declining there HAD to be a connection.

common knowledge gives the vague definition of hypermobility as extra stretchy muscles, of being double-jointed. it comes with warnings not to push your hypermobile body into the extremes. don't overextend, you will hurt yourself.

the warnings are warranted. the importance isn't overplayed. these things i knew, but i didn't know why. and without knowing why, they were warnings that i could never truly obey, despite how conservative i became with my movements in a vain attempt to protect what little ability i had left.

hypermobility is NOT stretchy muscles. muscles are supposed to stretch. in fact, it's important to their health (those conservative movements prolly hurt more than helped!). hypermobility affects connectives tissues, and lands under the umbrella of Ehlers-Danlos Sydromes (there are a few) which can range in severity from affecting skin and tendons to affecting blood vessels and organs.

severity is rare, and much easier to catch. this post is for the people who are "a little hypermobile" so that they can understand what makes their body different.

a muscle and its associated tendons are like a hammock. the muscle is the fabric you lie in, stretching to accomodate the load. tendons are the rope that attaches the fabric to the trees, providing a secure anchor for the muscle to operate.

so, what happens when the ropes on the hammock are also stretchy? well, you sit in the hammock and your ass hits the ground.

now imagine that the fabric of the hammock has the ability to clench like a muscle. a normal hammock doesn't need to work that hard to stop ass from meeting ground, because it has sturdy anchors. a hammock with stretchy rope, however, must exert several times more effort, because the more the muscle pulls, the more the tendons stretch.

in short, hypermobility forces your muscles to work harder, because they must first pass the threshold of stretch the tendons are capable of before it can actually do the task it's meant to do. the stretchier the tendons, the harder the muscle needs to clench, the easier it is to overwork.

this info reframed everything i was doing with my body. small tasks of strength required the effort of much larger tasks, and larger tasks ranged from extremely difficult to impossible. holding my arms up so i could work above my head required monumental effort. with an anatomical peculiarity of the feet, i needed to use several muscles in my calves and hips just to stand without losing balance.

so no fucking wonder i crashed and burned in my 20s, when everything i did took all of my strength to accomplish. no wonder i would contort myself out of shape, so flexible that i could anchor myself into extreme poses just to give my muscles a moment of relief, overstretching myself without ever realizing why, and what damage i could be doing.

so, some things to remember:

overextending isn't good for you, but it shouldn't be your biggest concern. instead, be aware of overexertion, both how LONG you are using a muscle without breaks and how HARD you are using it.

small, frequent breaks are your best friend if you need to do something for awhile.

when you take breaks, stretch the muscles you'd been using.

if you need to exert effort to maintain a pose (whether it's sitting, standing, etc) examine whether you need to be clenching those muscles, and why.

actually whenever you are using muscles, try to train yourself to use as few as possible. you can practice by sitting or standing, and relaxing as many muscles as you can before you tip over. finding a sense of balance can make your life so much easier.

become acquainted with what relaxed muscles feel like. chronic tension can distort your perception of this, and result in habitual tension.

so yeah. if you're hypermobile, that's important. don't let a doctor's dismissal make you think otherwise. take care of yourself and know what you are and aren't capable of.

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #255

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Old Man (Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3615

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI!, Sexual themes, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), p in v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), cum, swearing, use of "Baby" as a pet name, small alcohol mention, Older man/younger woman, Reader has female genitalia

Summary: After moving in to the mansion, you have developed quite the crush on the older, grumpy Wolverine. After he finds you walking the grounds one evening, what could happen if you face the fact that you've been flirting with each other for months?

A/N: I have always had such a crush on Hugh Jackman's Wolverine so Deadpool and Wolverine is like a dream come true

You were thankful that the other mutants had found you when they did. You had just lost your job, behind on your rent, and the most recent Tinder date had ghosted you. When a group of likeminded individuals came to you with a promise of a free place to stay, how could you say no?

Once you had arrived and decorated your room, Professor Xavier revealed the place wasn't quite free. With a mutation allowing you to manipulate food at will, he thought you may be able to help provide for all of the children and teenagers living at the mansion. Despite feeling a bit slighted, you were glad to have been given a purpose.

Over time, the mansion began to truly feel like home. You felt at peace in the kitchens, putting together meals for the other occupants. Many of the residents saw you as a maternal figure despite you not being much older than them, only being in your twenties. No matter your age, they tended to enjoy talking through problems with you over some tea and your famous chocolate chip cookies.

Something else that had grown over time at the mansion, alongside others fondness of you, was your own fondness for a particularly grumpy mutant. You couldn't explain it, as it didn't seem like you had much in common. You were generally a pretty bubbly, happy person, eager to speak with the children to help them out. The Wolverine was, well, not exactly described the same.

Nonetheless, he began to consume more of your thoughts. At first more of a schoolgirl crush, thinking about how you found him attractive. Of course you had thought about the fact that he was much older than yourself, but you didn't pay that much mind as you expected the little crush to go away over time. Instead, the crush became stronger and stronger until it was something you knew would not go away soon. Laying in your bed at night, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel Logan laying in bed next to you. Or perhaps, on top of you.

Using your powers to conjure ingredients for the student's lunch, you let your mind wander again as you worked. You imagined what it would be like to feel the Wolverine's hands on you, walking up behind you while you were cooking to place his hands on your hips. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he relaxed into you, making you giggle as his beard tickled your neck.

"Do we have any beer?" Came a voice, startling you from your daydream. What startled you most was the fact that it was his voice, as you spun around to face Logan, hoping your face was not as flushed as it felt.

"Give me just a minute," you said with a smile at him. "You know Charles doesn't like to keep any on hand since there are so many kids here," you said slyly, "but lucky for you my powers can extend to food and drink."

He sat down at the table nearby with a sigh. You tried not to notice the picturesque way he seemed to pose as he sat, legs spread and chest puffed out. Stop being such a creep!

"Why couldn't he have found you sooner?" Spoke Logan. The lazy smile on his face as he said those words made your face hot, hoping he didn't notice as you got to work on his request.

Handing him the drink, your fingertips brushed his. As you moved to let go, you felt him linger.

"Thanks, bub," he said, looking up into your eyes as he took the drink from your hand. You turned away quickly, resuming your work in hopes he didn't notice the way that his stare made you heat up.

Thankfully, Logan chose not to stay long. Once he left the room, you felt you could finally catch your breath and focus on the task at hand.

-

This was a pattern that the two of you fell into. Simple conversations never lasted long, but they always seemed to end with a linger. Oftentimes you would find yourself trying to sneak a glance at the man, only to meet his own eyes before shifting your own away quickly.

You tried not to look too far into those moments, after all, there's no way that Logan would be looking deeper himself. Surely it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was merely a symptom of the social cues he tended to ignore in favor of brashness. He never seemed rude during conversation with yourself, but it may be correlated. At least, that's what you decided to believe. Allowing yourself to believe the alternative, that he was purposefully flirting with you, could never end well. You were not going to open yourself up into that kind of disappointment.

Walking the grounds of the mansion, you took in the cool autumn air. After a busy day, you thought a walk in the moonlight would be the perfect thing before making your way to your bedroom. It was a futile attempt to clear your mind before trying to fall asleep, even though you knew despite your efforts your mind would still drift to Logan before you did so.

With a sigh, you took a seat down on a nearby bench. Looking up at the sky, you were grateful Charles did not allow much light pollution nearby, allowing you to admire the stars.

"The hell are you doing out here?" Came a gruff voice from behind you, making you jump. Even though the suddenness of the voice breaking the silence making you jump, you knew who it was immediately.

"I could ask you the same thing, Logan." You said, turning to find the man coming up on the bench. He rounded the corner, motioning to the empty seat next to you as if to ask permission to sit down. You nodded, and he did just so.

The two of you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings. At least, that's what you assumed he was doing. The only surrounding you could take in now was him. He smelled good, like smoke and a cologne you couldn't place. Your thigh brushed against his seated so close, and as soon as your leg touched his it felt as if it could have caught fire, spreading through your body quickly. The power he had over you was undeniable, and you pled that he wouldn't notice.

Looking over at him, you saw him looking into the distance. You took the moment to observe the way he looked under the moonlight. His hair looked soft, as if begging to have hands run through it. The stars reflected within his eyes, giving them a subtle sparkle. Your eyes trailed down the slope of his nose, down to his lips. You were sure that if you were to kiss him, his facial hair would tickle your cheeks in the most delectable way. You felt your breathing deepen.

Logan turned towards you, a look that you couldn't quite place in his eyes.

"What are we doing?" He asked.

You felt your heart clench, unsure if you should be confused or nervous.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled, "you know what I mean. As if you weren't checking me out a few seconds ago." You turned away in embarrassment, feeling your face heat. He continued, "we've been dancing around it for months. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago."

You felt your body heat in embarrassment even more. Not only had he noticed how you felt, but just as you assumed he did not reciprocate those feelings.

"I-I'm sorry," you said softly. Afraid that if you rose your voice any louder, you he would hear the wobble in your tone. You didn't want to cry in front of him, especially now.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said with a sad chuckle. "It's not your fault. When I said I should have put a stop to it, I mean an old man like me shouldn't be flirting with a young thing like you."

So he was flirting, you thought. Even though he seems regretful now, at least you know you weren't looking into something that wasn't really happening.

"It's not like I wasn't flirting back," you said with a sigh. "If I wanted you to stop I would have told you."

You could feel his eyes flip to you quickly, as if he was surprised.

"What did you just say?"

"I-I would have stopped you?"

A smirk made its way slowly onto his face.

"You wanted me to flirt with you?"

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. "Was I not obvious?" There is no way he didn't pick up on your feelings. "Did you not just comment on me checking you out literally minutes ago?"

His smirk only grew, "maybe I just thought you were naive. Good to know there's more to it."

"You were flirting with me, thinking I was just naive?" You questioned, a slight burst of confidence making you reflect on what he had said previously. "A young thing like me?" He faltered at your words.

"What do you-"

"You said so yourself," you purred, confidence clouding your judgement, allowing you to reach toward him to place a hand gently on his outer thigh. You were sure to note his sharp intake of breath as you did so, only emboldening you further. "You liked flirting with me didn't you, Old Man?"

He nearly groaned at your words, sending a rush through your body. his eyes, previously glued to your hand placement, flicked back up to your eyes. They didn't stay there, and you noticed his heavier breathing as his eyes began to flip between your eyes and your mouth. Not wanting to wait for him any longer, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. You were right, his beard did tickle.

You kissed Logan softly, moving your lips with his as soon as he got over his shock. The softness of your lips on his, paired with the near-innocent way you kissed him drove him crazy. Logan's arms made their way around you, pulling you towards him so that you were sat on his lap. His strength was already known to you, but the ease of his action still made you squeak. If he can move you this easily while kissing you, your mind ran wild with what else he could be capable of.

He deepened the kiss, leaving you just about breathless. Your excitement, and ego, only grew as you felt Logan's own excitement growing under your lap. Hands frenzied across his chest, grabbing his shirt while he continued to use his arms to press you close to him. You didn't even register you had begun moving your hips against him until he pulled back, his head rolling back with a groan that was purely sinful.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" He grumbled, but made no move to stop your motions.

"Logan," you whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him with wide doe-eyes. His last thread of self-restraint snapped inside of him as he heard his name fall from your mouth. He had already let himself go much further with you than he had planned, but now that he's heard how you sound saying his name he needed to hear it, again and again and again.

He rose from the bench quickly, grabbing your hand in his much larger one.

"Come on," he grumbled, pulling you along with him. He moved hastily, but you kept up easily. His pace only made your growing sense of arousal quicken as well.

Before you knew it, he was pushing open the door to his room. The room matched the man, and you noticed how it smelled like him too.

"Sit," he commanded motioning to the bed. You had never thought yourself one to obey a man so easily, but something about his tone made you do as he said. Logan made sure the door was locked behind you both before returning to you quickly, taking your lips in his own again. His tongue darted out, running across your bottom lip. A moan escaped you involuntarily, and he relished in the noise. To have you here with him, so needy, so willing, so young. Even though he knew he should have blocked himself off from you as soon as he heard you were only in your twenties, he couldn't deny the fact that it only turned you on now that he had you in this position.

He held your thigh with one hand, using the other to snake under your shirt to cup one of your breasts over your bra. You moaned again at his touch, only encouraging him further.

"Take it off."

You pulled away from him just far enough to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You then reached behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing both articles of clothing to the floor.

Logan smiled, eyes not leaving your breasts as he spoke.

"Well damn, I just meant the shirt but I'm not complaining."

The blush that rose to your face spread down to your chest as well. The way you flushed at his words was gorgeous to him. He never wanted this vision of you to stop. There was a part of Logan that was still convinced he may be dreaming.

Wasting no more time, he laid you down. His bed was much softer than you would have guessed. One hand made it's way to one of your breasts as his mouth made its way to the other. You moaned as he squeezed one breast, using his tongue to flick over your nipple on the other. The heat pooling between your legs was nearing a point of becoming uncomfortable. From the rigidity of Logan pants where they pressed against you, you could assume the same was true for him.

You reached down, palming him through his jeans. Already, you could tell his size would break you. It's not a thought you minded. He groaned at the contact, the vibrations making their way from his mouth to your nipple. Every part of you felt on fire, overheated as each touch of his sent you deeper into arousal.

You gasped at the sudden loss of contact, Logan pulling away to pull his own shirt off his head. You made no attempt to look away from him, taking in his built chest and abdomen. You wanted to put your mouth all over him.

"Like what you see?"

He pulled his jeans off before crawling back on top of you, one hand fingering each of your nipples as he attached his mouth back to your own. He captured every moan of yours into his mouth, as if devouring them would mean he could hear another.

Your hips has a mind of their own, craning upward towards the bulge in his boxers. As your clothed heat came in contact with him, he reciprocated with a growl, grinding down into you. Your mind spun at the increased contact, heat continuing to grow in your belly.

Logan pulled away from you again, making you whimper. His mouth trailed down your body, stopping at your breasts before continuing further. His fingers looped under your waistband, and he looked up at you as if asking for permission.

"Please, Logan," you whined with a wiggle of your hips. With your confirmation, he nearly tore the bottoms from your body trying to take them off so fast. Revealing your panties to him, he groaned as he saw the way that they were clearly soaked through. He loved the effect he was having on you.

The panties didn't stay on you long though, tore from you as well as you felt his warm mouth find your cunt. His tongue licked slowly from your hole up to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling your fingers in his tufts. The soft tug from your fingers make him moan into your pussy and you tucked that information away.

His speed increased, tongue flicking over your clit in sloppy circles. Your moans and whines only continued to spur him on, and you felt a finger prodding at your entrance. He pushed it in slowly, feeling your velvet walls clench around him.

If one finger feels this good, you thought, how the fuck am I going to take him?

He began to fuck you with his hand, adding a finger when you were ready and pushing slowly in and out of your soaking pussy. Combined with the movements of his tongue, you felt yourself reaching your peak quickly.

"Logan, I-" you whimpered.

"Come on baby," he said gruffly, only backing off your cunt long enough to get his words out before continuing his motions. "Cum for me baby. Show me how good you taste."

You moaned at his words, it being all you needed to push you over the edge. Your body shivered at the intensity of your orgasm, walls clenching around his fingers. Logan eagerly lapped up your juices as you came, only slowing down as your moans became breathier as you came down from your high.

" 'm gonna fuck you now baby," he growled. Despite having just orgasmed, his words sent a wave of tingles to your core. "That sound alright?"

You nodded, looking into his eyes as he made his way on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"Use your words."

He took his length into his hand, mesmerizing you with the way he lazily jerked it in his hand.

"Please," you whispered.

"What was that?"

"Please, Logan, fuck me!" You cried.

"That's it," he said cockily as he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. "Damn you're fucking soaking wet for me, aren't you?"

You could only moan in response, his cockhead stretching your walls as he entered you. It hurt as he stretched you in the best way, feeling more full than you ever have before you had even felt him bottom out. When he finally did, he used every ounce of restraint to stop himself from moving too much as he allowed you to adjust to his size. Before too long, you began to squirm under him. Your hands roamed his body, from his abs to his chest to his arms. With the way you whimpered under him, he was glad for your motions as he wasn't sure he could stay still much longer.

He began pulling out, before pushing back in tantalizingly slow. You moaned wantonly at the movement, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. You wiggled your hips, trying to push closer to him.

"Logan," you whined as if begging. Looking into his eyes, you could see how dark they were with lust. His pace increased, only making you louder as you kept your eye contact with him.

"Fuck baby," he grunted. "Not to bad for an old man, huh?" The way you moaned in response, mouth open in an 'O' shape as your eyes stayed locked to his told him he was correct. Your hands clawed your way down his chest, your eyes falling shut in your pleasure.

"Look at me," he demanded. You did as told, your big, lidded eyes filled with want nearing him towards his orgasm. All you could do was whine, whimper and moan, no hopes of formulating any real response. It was as if you were drunk on the way he felt inside you, pushing in deep and hitting all the right places.

"Are you gonna cum again for me baby? Let me feel you clench around my cock?" All his words did was make you moan louder, as if that were even still possible. You had never felt this level of pleasure before, and you knew you were going to be addicted. One of his hands made its way to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You felt your tummy flutter, clenching as you reached your second orgasm.

Your vision filled with stars, nearly screaming as you reached your peak again. Your walls clenched around Logan's cock, prolonging your orgasm as he continued to pound it in and out of your cunt.

You felt his thrusts begin to falter, grunting and growling as his movements became even harder and deeper than before. He suddenly pulled out, making you miss that feeling of fullness as he jerked himself off with his hand, spilling his cum onto your stomach and breasts.

As you both began to relax again, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way his seed looked across your body, your flushed face and the way your breasts moved as you huffed breathlessly.

"Take a picture," you joked, "it'll last longer."

"Can I?" He replied cockily, breathless himself as he cocked an eyebrow making you giggle.

After helping you clean yourself up, Logan laid down next to you with a deep huff, pulling the blanket over the both of you.

"We've got to start doing that more often," you whispered. His arm opened for you, letting you snuggle into his chest sleepily as he wrapped his arm around you. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Oh baby," he chuckled softly, "after all that, I don't think I ever want to stop."

You drifted off to sleep, feeling protected under Logan's grasp, happy you had decided to take that walk.

[lilacstro]

how to manifest with your jupiter sign

this post feels long lost due, I had many asks on this so I will make a post on this one <33

support me on ko-fi :)

Jupiter is a planet of faith, and optimism and abundance. However, you don't really have a planet specifically made for "manifestation", but if you think you had to guess one, I am guessing it would be Jupiter. Even in vedic astrology, people with strong brihaspati or Jupiter are considered lucky. Someone who was reading palms for me and my sister the other day said the first thing we do to see luck through hands is the Jupiter and Venus mount. But Venus is luxury you have in life and Jupiter is the fortune, I hope I am making sense. But otherwise, I have often seen 11th house be associated with manifestation

this post definitely checked my creativity and the methods of manifestations im aware of lmao. I have not taken this from any book but rather its mere observation of the charts I have seen until now, and asked my family to see if it worked for them and it made sense so its again a my theory kinda post lmao. I hope it is able to help y'all too <33 I was refraining from making a post on this one but it had a LOTT of asks so I decided to do it :) Let's gooooooooooo

use a combination of your sign, degree and house to find common grounds<33

Jupiter in:

Aries/1st house: First of all, be precise and extremely clear about what you want. If you need to put the work or you believe in taking inspired actions, please do! I would also suggest concentrating/condensing your energy in your 3rd eye through meditations. Believe in yourself and also, don't jump 10 places. I have often seen people with Jupiter in 1st house have kind of a scattered energy, to put it correctly, not really laidback, not really fierce, and I think this should be fixed. I would suggest people with this placement to work with their chart ruler and Jupiter along to find a best method that could suit them, the best one I feel like suggesting for everyone, is meditation.

Taurus/2nd house: I think people with this placement should definitely use affirmation tapes/affirmations. I would suggest methods that make you feel at peace and calm, and relaxing. Use aura meditations/ocean music before bed and calm yourself down and focus. Speak your desire into existence, using affirmations in front of mirror could be one thing you can do. If possible, make a vision board or buy a small manifestation souvenir suggesting your desire is complete. If possible, write your manifestations on a white sheet and bury them under a plant or soil in your garden.

Gemini/3rd house: Write. Journal your desires, write them down, clearly. If you guys have things like a feng shui crystal turtle, write your desires on a paper and put it under that turtle. I would also suggest using affirmations, to people with this placement, be optimistic and say good things about your manifestation. Use the law of assumption. Listen to subliminals, it may really help as well.

Cancer/4th house: FEEL your manifestation. Use music that makes you feel as if, evokes such emotions you know. Use the moon cycles for manifestation. Have you guys heard of Moon water manifestation? Basically, in a glass put some water and set intentions of your manifestation and put it under the full moon. Next day, drink that water. If you used a bigger bottle, then drink that water every time you set intentions of your manifestations. Use visualization

Leo/5th house: Have fun with your manifestation. Enjoy what you are willing to manifest and feel the vibes coming in. Be confident that yes, it is coming and it would happen. Be creative about your manifestation. Try drawing your desires if you guys enjoy arts. Create beautiful DIYs like creative vision boards while blasting music, or pretty photo frames or phone wallpapers that would suggest completion of your desires. I would also suggest using heart chakra meditations, lifting your spirits up.

Virgo/6th house: Create a manifestation routine. Something that locks you in and also, dont be too fixtated on when will it happen. Create a routine you enjoy and it can be absolutely anything. I however feel like suggesting 369 method, 55X5 method or things like so. One other thing I will say is, don't be afraid of helping someone if your boundaries are not crossed, and you may actually find that you have coincidences that lead you to what you had wanted. I would say, be open minded as well. Release pent up energy in your body time to time. I have often seen people with this placement are already very helping/people like to ask them for help.

Libra/7th house: I would suggest talking about your manifestation, in a journal, to someone you trust or even to yourself in a positive, loving way! Enjoy talking about what you want, talk about it with love, faith and optimism. I would suggest using a sigil, especially near your mirror or when you are getting ready. Use a pretty paper, and make it super cute and to your aesthetic. If its possible, clean and program the ornaments you wear, or even if its a hair tie you wear daily. By program I mean, meditating on it and setting a vibration/energy that corresponds to your manifestation. pretending as if can help too.

Scorpio/8th house: Don't talk about your manifestation until its complete, don't tell much people about it until you are close with them. Use sleep meditations (I would suggest Edward Art's sleep meditations) and please, believe in your manifestation but yourself first, that you can attract what you want. Use the law of attraction. Even though I suggest being on high vibrations, I would still say, let yourself feel your emotions, its important to feel yourself. Don't get too attached, fearful or desperate for what you want. Pray to whoever you believe when you're sleeping. Often seen people with this placement/8th house moons or stelliums have some kind of divine intervention with the things they desire. Be open to change in paths, if it is possible.

Sagittarius/9th house: Be optimistic about your manifestation. Pray if you believe in a higher deity or power. This is a very lucky placement in my opinion and you have the power to achieve whatever you want, just desire it strongly and in a positive way. Use frequency meditations, and if possible. Have faith and patience and don't be in a rush for anything. Use manifestation journals if possible. I feel people with these placements are already quite spiritual or at least aware of such topics. Use affirmations/ religious affirmations if you believe in one.

Capricorn/10th house: Talk about your manifestation, don't lie about what you want when asked, say it if its not violating your boundaries and if not, just say something neutral. I feel people with this placement, often manifest what they show, even if they are trying to be private or pretentious, its just weird. Act as if, and have some confidence. I feel people with this placement appear lucky to people so I would indeed suggest protecting your energy. This placement should also somehow be ready to accept the challenges that will come along when they ask for what they want, because these people often dream big but this placement again feels brings unpredictable things on your path. So, be open and flexible is a suggestion. But be assured, the rewards often exceed expectations!!

Aquarius/11th house: USE PINTREST BOARDS IF YOU DOO. Use subliminals, Create a manifestation journal with affirmations and pictures. Use manifestation meditations. Experiment with your manifestations, let it be, and let it go. Don't obsess about what you're manifesting. Have a positive self talk. Your manifestation is actually likely to appear when you least expect it/don't bother about it much. Random but write yourself messages/emails or success stories as if you achieved what you want, this is a very good placements for strong manifestors imo

Pisces/12th house: Use visualization, SATs coming to me specifically. Sleep in the state of wish fulfilled. Be helathy-delusional, and use crystals if you have one or are willing to use them and even better if you can charge them near ocean. Use water meditation, water-manifestation methods. Have strong faith :)) Use spells and charms. program your crystals and journals.

EXTRA: Jupiter in air signs or degrees: Watch your thoughts and words, speak your desire in existence Jupiter in water signs or degrees: Watch your feelings, feel as if and don't let your feelings consume you eitherways. Beware of extreme delusion and mark a line on reality Jupiter in fire signs or degrees: Watch your actions and impulses, take inspired actions as needed, feel the excitement but don't get reckless or mindlessly impulsive. Know the line between what you feel like doing because of an intuitive nudge, and where you are being stupid or over faithful/risk taking.

btw paid readings are open:)

support me on ko-fi :) that's it. I hope I was able to help and this post brought some clarity. I hope you liked this post. All the best :)) i love you all <33

[awkward-walking-potato]

Just looking through some of your work and MA'AM. Not to be a straight woman, but oh m y god ohm yg od oh my g od-

So prompt: Logan is pretty good at casual possessive gestures. I wanna read a reaction to reader's possessive gestures towards him.

I'm thinking hand on thigh, hand on waist, staring, putting space between someone else and him, sky's the limit

You could make it a 5+1 format (I am a sucker for those)

Five Times You Were Possessive of Logan, and the One Time He Was Possessive of You

1. Hand on His Thigh

The first time it happens, it’s completely unplanned. You’re at the bar, sitting next to Logan as the two of you chat with some friends. He’s his usual stoic self, gruff but present, the warmth of his body a comforting presence next to you. As the conversation continues, you notice someone across the room eyeing Logan with more interest than you’re comfortable with.

Without thinking, your hand moves to rest on his thigh under the table. The action is instinctive, a way to ground yourself and subtly remind whoever’s watching that Logan isn’t available. The moment your fingers curl around the muscle of his leg, you feel him tense ever so slightly, the briefest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t say anything, just glances down at your hand before looking back at you with a raised eyebrow.

You offer him a small, almost shy smile, as if to say, This okay?

Logan’s lips twitch into the barest hint of a smirk, and his large, rough hand covers yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t move your hand away, doesn’t ask any questions. But there’s a look in his eyes that’s both amused and a little bit surprised, like he’s pleased with your boldness.

He leans in close, his voice low in your ear. “You don’t gotta worry, darlin’. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

2. Hand on His Waist

The next time it happens, it’s at a crowded event. Some kind of gathering at Xavier’s that’s brought in mutants and allies from all over. You and Logan have been mingling for a while, but the room is packed, and you find yourself getting separated from him as people move between you.

You spot him across the room, chatting with Jean and Scott, and feel an inexplicable urge to be close to him. Navigating through the crowd, you slip between the bodies until you reach his side, where you slide your hand around his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Logan stiffens slightly, glancing down at you with an unreadable expression. For a second, you worry that you’ve overstepped, but then his arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. He continues the conversation without missing a beat, but you notice the subtle way he shifts his stance, positioning himself just a bit more protectively between you and the crowd.

His hand lingers on your shoulder long after the conversation ends, thumb tracing idle circles against your skin.

3. Staring

It’s been a long day, and you’re sitting in the common room, watching Logan across the space. He’s talking with Ororo, something serious by the look on their faces. You know it’s important, that they’re discussing something related to the latest mission, but you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him.

He’s all rough edges and raw power, yet there’s something about him that’s magnetic, something that draws you in despite the gruff exterior. Maybe it’s the way he’s always so intensely himself, unapologetically so, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention—like you’re the one thing in the world that makes sense to him.

You realize you’ve been staring when Ororo glances over at you and raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Logan follows her gaze and finds you looking right at him, your eyes soft, full of something you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as if he’s trying to figure you out. For a moment, you think about looking away, but you don’t. You just keep staring, letting him see that he’s the only one in the room you care about.

Eventually, he huffs out a low chuckle, shaking his head before turning his attention back to Ororo. But he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, and you can tell that he’s more focused on you than whatever they’re discussing.

4. Putting Space Between Him and Someone Else

It’s a lazy afternoon, the kind where everyone at the mansion is doing their own thing. You and Logan are sitting outside, enjoying the fresh air, when one of the younger mutants—someone new and a bit too eager—approaches him. They start talking, standing a little too close for your liking, and you can see the way Logan shifts uncomfortably.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re on your feet and moving towards them. Sliding yourself between Logan and the newcomer, you offer them a friendly smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey,” you say, cutting in smoothly. “Logan and I were just about to head out. Maybe you can catch him later?”

The newcomer looks a bit surprised, but they nod, glancing between you and Logan before backing off with a mumbled apology. You watch them leave, then turn to find Logan looking at you with an expression that’s both amused and impressed.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his tone that tells you he doesn’t mind one bit.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just didn’t like the way they were crowding you.”

Logan’s smirk widens, and he reaches out to pull you close, his hands resting on your hips. “Gotta admit, I kinda like it when you get all protective.”

5. Hand on His Chest

The fifth time is more deliberate. You’re out on a mission, tensions running high as you and Logan work together to neutralize a threat. When it’s finally over, you’re both exhausted, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

As the team regroups, one of the other mutants—someone who’s always been a bit too friendly with Logan—sidles up to him, laying a hand on his arm as they talk. You feel a sharp pang of something hot and possessive in your chest, and before you can second-guess yourself, you’re right there beside him.

You place your hand on his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palm, and lean in closer than necessary. “You alright, Logan?” you ask, your voice laced with concern.

Logan’s eyes flicker with surprise, but then he smiles, his hand covering yours as he nods. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replies, his gaze never leaving yours.

The other mutant quickly excuses themselves, and Logan turns his full attention to you. “You know,” he says, his voice low, “I’m startin’ to think you don’t like sharin’.”

You give him a sly grin. “Maybe I don’t.”

Logan chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends shivers down your spine. “Good,” he murmurs, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “’Cause I don’t either.”

Logan’s Turn

The one time Logan decides to return the favor, it catches you completely off guard.

You’re in the kitchen, chatting with Bobby as you wait for your coffee to brew. The conversation is light, filled with jokes and teasing banter. Bobby’s always been a bit of a flirt, but it’s harmless, and you’re laughing at something he’s said when Logan walks in.

Before you can even greet him, Logan is suddenly right behind you, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You can feel the solid heat of him, the way his grip is firm, almost claiming. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “What’s so funny?”

Bobby’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in the scene, and you can see the flash of understanding in his expression. “Uh, nothing, man. Just talking.” Bobby backs away with a nervous chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll, uh, catch you later.”

As Bobby quickly exits the kitchen, you turn to look up at Logan, still caught in his embrace. There’s a look in his eyes that’s both playful and intense, and you realize with a start that he’s the one feeling possessive now.

“Logan?” you ask, a bit breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

He just grunts, the sound more of a satisfied hum than anything else, and his hand tightens on your waist. “Just didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at you,” he admits gruffly, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice, like he’s not used to feeling this way.

A slow smile spreads across your face as you lean into him, your own hand finding its way to his chest, fingers tracing the familiar contours. “Guess we’re both a little possessive, huh?”

Logan huffs out a low laugh, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice rumbling against your skin. “But I’m not complaining.”

You stand there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away as you both realize just how much you mean to one another. In that moment, it doesn’t matter who’s being possessive or why—what matters is that you belong to each other, and neither of you would have it any other way.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

If you want to could you please do a fic with Jason's Girlfriend (rather Arkham Night or when he is still early Red Hood) gets hit with Scarecrow's fear toxin and Jason is trying to help her through it or give her an antidote. But she is terrified of him and think he is attacking or trying to kill her. Maybe it's because while she does love him and he loves her she started working with him because she is helping Batman get Jason to hopefully see his family again and Jason does know so she is scared of his reaction. Sorry if that's confusing or a lot.

Thank you for reading whether you do the request or not

-🍓

Guilty Hearts

Hi 🍓! I know this took a while to get out but I hope you see it. I think we might be psychically linked because this came into my ask box while I was editing my other fear toxin fic. Enjoy! ~1k words

The Arkham Knight is going to destroy whoever caused you to get like this. He stands, ridged and protective, between you and the milita medics who are shifting uneasily behind him. You're curled into the corner of the room, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around yourself. He never breaks his gaze as you rock yourself, silent tears spilling down your cheeks.

Seventy-two minutes. That's how long you've been like this. Trapped in the nightmares of your mind's own creation, hallucinations caused by a dosage of Scarecrow's fear toxin. 

He doesn't know how you got like this, what happened, he didn't bother to ask when he was finally informed. The Arkham Knight just stormed his way to you. 

The medics managed to tell him that you've screamed your voice raw but still fought anyone who got close enough to try and stick you with the antidote. 'That's his partner,' he thinks. Always the fighter.

He scowls behind his helmet when he notices the self-inflicted scratch marks over your arms, a common reaction to the toxin. "Everybody out." He snaps, snatching a needle filled with the antidote from one the medics. They file out quickly, sensing his mood. They should be running. Everyone knows what you are to him. He's made it more than clear and the fact that you're suffering? The fact it took over an hour for him to be told? He'll make sure someone pays for that later.

But that is later, and this is now. You're what's most important. He tugs off his helmet once the last medic leaves the room and takes a step towards you.

You let out a raw, strangled cry with what's left of your voice. He doesn't know what you're seeing, what you think he is, but it makes his heart clench to see you so scared. He knows he can be frightening now, so different from what he used to be. But he'd never hurt you, never, not on purpose. 

The Arkham Knight crouches down to your level, and says your name softly, carefully, trying not to startle you. "I'm here to help, I promise, baby. I need you to trust me. I'm going to make it better." He soothes, creeping closer to you inch by inch. He makes sure to stay low, to make himself look smaller.

It doesn't seem to help, fresh tears fall faster from your eyes and you whimper. He repeats your name over and over, trying to draw you away from whatever fear is tormenting you. "Just hold on a little longer. It's going to be okay. I'm going to make it okay."

He shifts closer to you, reaches out one hand to try and touch you, and you bolt, scrambling to get as far away from him as possible. 

He catches you around the waist, needle clattering to the floor as he wrestles you to the ground. It's harder than it should be, he's trying to be gentle, trying not to harm you, but you're kicking and crying and clawing like you'll die if you don't fight. The Arkham Knight wonders what you see, what twisted image is taking over your mind as you fight him.

You see him. The Arkham Knight– Jason. You know there's something wrong with you, something bad, but between the pounding of your heart and the way the shadows seem to writhe, you can't remember what it is. 

You tried to get away from him– it. He's angry at you, you know he is. You can hear it in the robitical breathing, the way fire dances in place of the glowing whites of his eyes. 

You're scared. You don't know how he knows. You don't know how he found out or what he thinks, but he's going to hurt you. That's what the choir of hissing voices whispers into your ear. 

He knows you've helped Batman– Bruce. You didn't want to betray him. You weren't trying to hinder his revenge plan in any way. Bruce didn't even know it was you who told him. You just– all you did was tell him to have extra fear toxin antidotes ready. You just couldn't stand the thought of someone losing the people they loved, not when you knew exactly how it felt.

The Arkham Knight freezes when you start to beg. He's never heard you so scared, so shaken. You sound like he did. Back in that cell.

You thought a part of him might understand that. Your adrenaline spikes when he reaches for something just out of your field of vision. He's going to hurt you. He's going to make you pay for your disloyalty. You let out a sob and start to beg, broken pleas of his name leave your lips, it's the only sound you can make anymore.

"Please, Jason," You rasp out, "m'sorry. So sorry." He shushes you as you start to paw at his chest plate in a last ditch attempt to get away. Always so strong, you are. 

Jason takes your wrists in one hand and sticks the needle into your skin with the other, releasing the antidote into your bloodstream. 

"There you go, there you go, doll. Good job." He mumbles into your hair, pulling you up so you can settle in his lap, his arms securely around your body. Your breathing is shaky, uneven, and your hands move to curl into the straps of his armor. You're not trying to get away from him anymore, proof the antidote is taking hold. 

He keeps cooing mindless reassurances as you cry quietly into his shoulder, his hand running soothing lines up and down your back. He presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you a little tighter to him.

When you're more yourself, Jason will tell you you have nothing to be sorry for. He knows. Of course, he knows what you told Bruce. He knows everything about you. If spilling a few secrets to his plan eases your guilty conscience and keeps you by his side, so be it.

Scarecrow's just a means to an end anyway. All that matters is that you stay. That you keep following him down his path in hell, and if you turn to look back a few times, well, he'll just hold your hand all the more tighter and keep dragging you along with him.

[ahqkas]

Mattheo with a stubborn gf!reader who hates to be proven wrong. Like she argues with people but when it comes to her bf, she doesn’t have the argue with him and it makes people stumped

-🧚🏾‍♀️💗

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

YOU WERE KNOWN FOR YOUR FIERY SPIRIT AND STUBBORN NATURE, NEVER BACKING DOWN FROM AN ARGUMENT AND ALWAYS STANDING YOUR GROUND. it was something people admired about you, even if it occasionally led to heated debates. your fierce determination and unwavering confidence made you a force to be reckoned with at hogwarts.

but when it came to mattheo riddle, things were different. the short tempered slytherin had a way of disarming you that no one else could manage. it was a fact that left your friends and classmates confused and intrigued. how could the girl who never conceded to anyone so effortlessly relent when it came to her boyfriend?

it happened one afternoon in the slytherin common room. you were engaged in a spirited debate with lorenzo berkshire about the merits of a particular quidditch strategy. voices were raised, and hands gestured wildly as you both tried to make your points. the other slytherins watched with a mix of amusement and anticipation, waiting to see who would come out on top.

"you don't understand, enzo," you insisted, your eyes flashing with determination as you tried to prove your point. "the wronski feint is only effective if the seeker knows exactly when to pull up. otherwise, it's a complete disaster."

enzo shook his head, equally adamant. "but that's precisely why it's such a high-risk, high-reward maneuver. it’s about pushing the limits and taking chances."

just then, mattheo walked in, his presence immediately pulling attention towards him. the boy sauntered over, a curious smile playing on his lips as he observed the heated exchange. he leaned against the back of the sofa, watching the two of you with interest.

"and what does mattheo think?" blaise asked, nudging his friend with a knowing grin. "surely, he has an opinion."

mattheo glanced at you, his gaze steady and confident. "i think," he began slowly, "that both strategies have their merits. but it ultimately comes down to the skill and instincts of the seeker."

you opened your mouth to retort, but something in mattheo's calm demeanor made you pause. there was a quiet authority in his voice that made you reconsider your stance. with a sigh, the fight left your eyes as you relented from the argument. "fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "maybe you're right."

the common room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you in shock. enzo blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden concession while the win of this argument fled from his mind completely. "did she just . . . agree?" he asked incredulously.

mattheo's smile widened, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. "it’s all about perspective," he said lightly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. you leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you. despite your stubborn nature, mattheo had a way of making you see things differently. his calm confidence and unwavering support made you feel safe enough to admit when you were wrong, something you rarely did with anyone else.

later, as you walked through the castle corridors with your boyfriend by your side, you couldn't help but reflect on how much he had changed you. he had taught you that it was okay to let your guard down and that being proven wrong wasn't a sign of weakness. it was a lesson that had made you stronger, and it was all because of him.

"you know," you said, glancing up at him with a smile, "i still think i’m right most of the time."

mattheo smirked at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "of course you do," he replied, his fingers intertwining with yours. "my clever girl."

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS: Glowdicks | 18+ Crack Fic

This started off as a joke with @anxiousgoddest and then I began talking to @zayne-li and decided I had to do it. I had to write it. If I didn't write these men's dicks breaking due to riding them too hard, who was gonna do it? That's what I thought. Nobody. So here we are.

❧ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ❧ Warnings: Riding, Unsafe Sex, Injuries, Surgeries, Dick Fractures ❧ Pairings: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

The fiasco all started because you decided you wanted to be riding Xavier instead of letting him bend you over this time.

You were going to town on his dick to the point where you couldn’t even feel your legs anymore and he had already cum once and you weren’t aboutta stop for anything.

Literally nothing could pry you away from his dick right now. 

At least you thought, but you decided to try a new move where you clamped down hard on his dick like a vice. He was moaning underneath you from how tight you had managed to get.

Then you freaking slipped when he thrusted up into you, your hips moving along with it.

The moment you heard the crack noise it was like everything else in the room stilled.

In Xavier’s defense, the only noise that left him was a gasp instead of a scream like one would expect.

You just made eye contact with him and his eyes were wide as all hell. You were both scared of the moment you slid off his dick and saw the results of what you just did.

You slowly got up and his dick slid out of you with a wet noise and you looked down and…well it certainly wasn’t supposed to look like that.

You both had a moment of silence for his broken dick, just staring at it. Honestly you were expecting it to be glowing with how it sounded and his evol. Almost disappointing it wasn’t.

Then he just sighs and looks up at you.

“I mean…I guess these things happen,”

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS SHIT HAPPENS XAVIER?! HOW OFTEN DOES YOUR DICK BREAK?! WHO ELSE IS RIDING YOUR DICK?!

You just kept staring at it and back at him. How wasn’t he screaming in pain right now? You think you’d be a sobbing mess at this point.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to go for any more rounds tonight. Did you want to sit on my face instead?”

“Xavier, you need medical attention.”

“I’ll just sleep it off, it’ll be fine,”

You’re already getting up to get ice packs and googling what to do if your dick breaks. All your research is saying he needs to go to the hospital and seek medical attention and possible surgery is needed in most cases.

You walked back in the room with the ice pack and phone in hand and you drop them both when you see Xavier snapping it back into place.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT?!”

Xavier just looks at you like a puppy who’s being scolded and frowned.

“It’s fine, it’ll heal probably in a day or two, don’t worry about it. You know I heal fast.

You want to cry because who let this man into society? Who allowed him to walk around common people? He just snapped his dick back into place. There’s no way that would work.

Well it did, because in two days he was grabbing you as you tried leaving the bed in the morning, telling you that he was feeling better and wanted to make up for lost time.

You just didn’t want to ride him for a couple weeks after that, and you decided to stop doing kegel exercise after that. It wasn’t worth it.

Zayne

You had been riding him on the damn rocking chair again. After the first time you decided you really liked it since it did some of the work for you. His hands were on your hips and he was just letting you control the pace.

You had squeezed down hard on his cock, pushing the chair back in the same motion. Then the chair kept going back. And then it was falling back. Then suddenly you were on the ground.

Don’t worry his dick was still inside of you though, but he was groaning in pain, letting out a hiss. He was gasping for breath for a moment. 

You had thought you heard a crack during your fall, but thought it had been the couch breaking or part of the fall. Oh no. Sadly that was just wishful thinking.

"Hold on, wait--oh fuck get off, right now,"

Oh that was a very pained voice as you got off his dick and looked down. Your eyes widened as you realized his dick didn’t normally look like that. You had a moment of silence for his now broken dick as he managed to still lift you up and placed you on the normal couch.

He went to the restroom and of course you followed him like a little duckling as he began inspecting the damage. You heard a long sigh coming from him and he turned to you since he could see you in the mirror.

“We need to go to the hospital,”

“It is like…broken?”

“It’s been fractured. I’ll need to run some scans to see how severe the damage is. I need you to drive me.”

You both hopped into the car and got to the hospital. Yvonne had greeted you two and mentioned Zayne not being scheduled today. He was just looking down and beelining to his office. You gave her an apologetic look since the woman was clearly confused.

He made you stay in his office as he went about doing tests on himself and looking over all the damage.

When he came back to the hospital he looked absolutely horrified as he told you it would require surgery to fix. He seemed to be thinking long and hard about it and then just let out another sigh.

“I’ll take some pain medication and just do it myself,”

UM I’M SORRY SIR, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY? YOU’RE GONNA PERFORM SURGERY ON YOUR OWN DICK?!

You’re already texting Greyson about the situation and about how your boyfriend is so mortified that his dick was broken during sex that he was going to deadass perform surgery on himself.

Greyson sent a few laughing emojis as well as the purple eggplant one, asking if he looked like this right now. He did. Your poor boyfriend looked like the eggplant emoji right now.

Greyson came into the office shortly after and told Zayne he’d get the surgery handled and Zayne looked at you in absolute betrayal, but like hell you were about to let this man perform surgery on your favorite riding implement.

“It was either I contacted Greyson, or Dr. Noah. Your choice,”

He shut up after that and after his surgery you could hear the whisperings about how you broke Dr. Li’s dick.

Yvonne also heard and came over to ask you about what happened and you didn’t skimp out on any of the details.

When you got to the room he was staying at to recover he was just glaring at you like a mad cat, clearly betrayed. He’d get over it. At least his dick would still be working after this.

Also you had a few doctors asking you if you needed a wheelchair for some odd reason. You couldn’t figure it out.

After the incident he wasn’t letting you ride him on the couch. Claiming it was ‘Too dangerous’.

Rafayel

Rafayel decided he wanted to fuck you against a wall, which wasn’t super uncommon. When he got in the mood he would take you just about anywhere he could. The wall, the table, over the podium in an empty lecture hall before he was supposed to give a speech about art.

If he could fuck you on it, then he would. Whenever he got riled up all normal thoughts were gone and he was all over again.

So right now he had you pinned up against the front door of the art studio because you decided to tease him all night. He had to stop himself from fucking you in the ride back home. He almost pulled over by the ocean and took you over one of the rocks.

Everything was going fine, you were so damn wet just from the thought of him fucking you that his dick was able to slide in easy.

You squeezed down on his cock and tried moving your hips, but apparently he was changing angles at the same time.  There was that crack that nobody wanted to hear mid fuck.

You both went down on that, Rafayel in pain and you because he dropped your ass onto the floor.

His hand was between his legs as he hissed and when he looked at his dick he literally gasped and looked up at you.

“Call me an ambulance,”

What do you MEAN?! LET US HAVE A LOOK WHAT HAPPENED BRO?!

You looked down and your only thought was the image of the eggplant emoji. Anyways, you called an ambulance for him because you were both freaking out at this point. His dick was broken. You broke his dick.

The ride to the hospital was filled with your horrified faces and the EMTs looking at the scene completely amused. Thankfully you had the decency to put your damn pants back on and tried covering Rafayel’s decency.

When you got to the hospital they were doing scans and stuff and then you were told he’d need surgery. Like right away.

You had called Thomas to let him know Rafayel would be needing a few days off. When he asked you and you had to tell him you literally counted the seconds he was sighing. It was ten. He was sighing for ten seconds straight. He just told you to let him know how long the recovery would be once you found out.

When he got out of surgery you were already walking into the room, only to see him surrounded by a few nurses.

Man was high as a kite and bragging.

“Okay but has your partner ever broken your dick before because of how good it was? No? I didn’t think so.”

Really you should’ve taken that as a sign to leave, but you had stayed and when he saw you he was so loopy and stretching his arms out wanting you to hold him.

You recorded him. When he was sober and home and you showed him the recordings of him wanting to cuddle, and bragging about how good you were. He was trying to lunge at you to delete it. You threatened to break his dick again and he shut up.

Sylus

He was fucking you hard into the mattress and you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. Like absolutely numb with how they were tossed over his shoulders at the moment.

You couldn’t even speak as you were so fucked out from this entire thing, and you needed a damn breather. You don’t even know how many times you had cum at this point.

You had also forgotten the safeword and signal, not that you could speak at the moment. Still the signal would’ve been nice to remember in your fucked out brain.

He pressed deeper in you and you didn’t know how to verbalize you needed a moment or respite. Sylus had seen the look in your eyes though like you were pleading with him.

He was about to pull out, but you decided in that exact moment that you would squeeze down on him painfully to show you needed a second.

Well with both movements and how he was angled there was a nice snap that echoed in the room.

You had heard the gasp and pained groan coming from him. It was pretty fucking loud and he let out a hiss.

You were still out of it as you felt him pull out of you completely. The only thing you were focused on was getting your breathing back to a normal rate.

Sylus'lips were on you trying to get you to come back to him and finally you were getting coherent enough to finally speak.

“What was that snapping noise?”

“That was my cock, sweetheart,”

That was a confusing thing to say and your eyes drifted down between his legs, but he was cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“I didn’t say you could look at it, sweetie,”

That damn purr sent a shiver down your spine and you let out a whine. He just chuckled at your response though because high key it was amusing that you were upset that you couldn’t see his broken dick.

“Next time you want me to stop, you should let me know before snapping my cock,”

Okay listen, first off, if you could you would’ve. It’s not your fault that the man’s dick game is a 10/10 and you couldn’t think straight at the moment.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Did I need a hospital trip when you shot me?”

Okay, touché. Still you felt bad. You had just snapped his dick and he was acting so casually about it right now. Doesn’t that hurt?

Instead of acknowledging the pain he just went to work cleaning you up instead and then curling you up to his chest to go to bed.

By the morning his dick was apparently back to normal though as he was pressing it against your ass while he was spooning you.

“Don’t break it this time, alright?”

You’re not gonna lie, the moment he said that you were damn tempted to do it again out of sheer spite.

I'd like to say I'm still working on the Mermaid Rafayel smut, however took a short mini break in order to write this to help clear my mind. I'm 8k into the other fic and we haven't even gotten to the smut so ya...it'll be another long one. Hope you enjoyed reading about braking their dicks tho.

[venmondiese]

A PRINCE’S FAREWELL

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: As Prince Aemond prepares to fight at Rook Rest, you accompany him before he departs.

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader.

✧word count: 2.3k

✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, oral (f), aemond being a pussy champ (canon), and he lowkey gets hard from his own arrogance.

✧NOTE: i saved these from drafts, this was supposed to come out after episode 4, so all the events are from ep 4.

AEGON'S PARALLEL ONE SHOT: A king's farewell

“He is an imbecile” Aemond states, as he places the eyepatch carefully on his head. He has finished putting on his riding clothes, and after coming from the council, he seems more than upset.

“He is the King” you say to your husband, sitting on the bed as you watch him get ready. Your right leg was above the other, bouncing your feet softly in amusement, your skirts moving with the motion. “Imbecile or not”

“We made him the King.” Aemond remarks sharply, clearly upset. You could see it in how he moves. How his jaw clenches and he sighs, almost growling in annoyance. “He doesn’t appreciate it”

You hum, looking at him get ready. He was meticulous, getting every detail good. Making sure his riding clothes were well clasped, and would support the movements of the wind. 

“Are you sure some of Rhaenyra’s dragons will go there? I mean… it sounds risky”

“Blacks are stupid like that” he murmurs. “Predictable” he says softly. “Lord Staunton sent a cry for help to his whorish pretender of a Queen” 

You look at him; he speaks as if he was an omniscient god, who knew exactly everyone’s steps in a war. It was kind of arousing.

 “It isn’t too hard to guess. Dragonstone will be trapped, an isle among loyalists of the True King. Only threat is Meleys, Caraxes is far… at Harrenhal. And the rest of them? Spoiled little dragons that never had seen any war. A very good food for Vhagar” He says confidently. “And yet that so-called Queen has to find allies.” He says, almost in amusement.

You watch him move, taking the gloves as he stands before you, putting the gloves on.

“He froze, like a stupid deer in a hunt” he says, the slight smirk on his lips are a sight of his amusement of the whole deal. “He doesn’t recall the last time he took a High Valyrian class from the Maesters…” 

“Aemond” you say, smiling and tilting your head as that humiliation gave him a sense of smugness. 

“It is true. He just babbled some words. Our little son can speak better and he is just babe” 

You nod, appreciating the fact. Your son was probably the thing that Aemond was most proud of. He doted on Aerion always, and you kept thanking the gods that when the murderers of prince Jaehaerys were in the castle, you had been with the maesters, as your baby was sickly, and he didn't manage to be healthy for long. 

“He is two, and he's starting to make some sense in common tongue” you remind him. “He babbles some Valyrian words”

“He is still better than that… idiot” Aemond murmurs. “It was… he deserved it. After he has done” he murmurs, turning away as he fetches the scabbard, and his own sword. 

“You mean…?” you ask, moving your legs to place both feet on the ground, witting more straight up.

Aemond stops a bit on his tracks. Imbecile, you imbecile. He thinks, as he turns to you. Your eyes look at him with curiosity, following his every movement and you didn’t miss a thing he spoke. It was as refreshing as frustrating. 

It wasn’t that he isn’t fond of you. It’s just that there are things that you are better without knowing, and after all, he was not above the temptations of the flesh and the need of being vulnerable. He couldn’t be that with you. 

“What did he do to deserve this cruelty?” you ask softly, standing up.

“What hasn’t he done…?” He murmurs, trying to not make obvious his coldness. 

“You mean… when he teased you as kids?” You ask, as it was the only occasion you recalled.

“Hm” he hums, not really wanting a reminder of that. Less the night at the brothel, when Aegon found him with the Madame. He tried to play it cool, but he walked rather quickly to the castle, and to your shared chambers, instead of his personal one, slipping in his side of the bed, and leaving his sword near. If Aegon tried anything with you near, Aemond would have cut his head. And his drunkard King’s guard would have not been able to stop him.

And he smirks at that. Who would stop him now? Cole was away. His mother didn’t speak to him. His grandsire away. Aegon could barely rule the Kingdom, and his King’s guard was useless. More and more with idiotic people like him.

If Aemond was on his place– 

He would have done things differently. Would have not underestimated traditions, and would have not changed something as vital as white cloaks. He has to do, instead, all of the work to get castles and strategic support on war. All by himself. 

“Let's say Aegon will not underestimate me” he says, as you take the leathery scabbard from his hands, moving the strap to place it on his shoulder, moving delicately to help him put it on.

“He is your brother. He is… hurt. His son just died” Aemond sighs, as he had confided in you the knowledge of how Blood and Cheese were meant for him.

“Yes. I know” he murmurs.

“And he called you the best sword and his closest blood” you remind him.

“Those are not compliments” he murmurs. 

You look at him, and smirk, knowing what he thought “Are facts, as you say.” you finish for him. “Still, my love, you are serving him in the greatest of ways” you say making sure the scabbard won’t fall or isn’t well secured.

He hums; you are praising him and encouraging him to follow his own strategies for war, instead of asking the whole council. You nuzzle his cheek, kissing softly there.

“Hm.” He says, a bit delighted by your presence. Soothes his need for destruction. 

“Just like I like to serve you in the greatest of ways as a wife” you murmur, pressing soft kisses on his jaw.

His hum comes up is raspy, as he places a hand on your lower back, gripping softly there as he enjoys your pampering.

“Stop delighting yourself in the memory of humiliating Aegon” you say, as if you could read his mind. He was not thinking of that, but the smirk on his lips was one of amusement.

As you turn back to sit on the edge of the bed, he takes his sword, moving closer to you, as he stands in front of you on the bed, leaving the sword on the table nearby. 

“You should have seen it.” he murmurs, smiling. “Poor idiot” he says. “You speak High Valyrian better than he does”

You, of no Valyrian heritage as Targaryen’s, knew some words, but only thanks to him. He insisted, for you to know a bit. You could speak it, but read it in its raw form? Horrible. You could understand some books, only if High Valyrian was romanized. 

“Sepār mirrī” (just a little) you say, a bit messy, but he smiles at your words. 

He was much more fluent at High Valyrian than anyone else you knew. You had heard Princess Rhaenyra or Prince Daemon, rawer. Aemond took it in the time to learn it more fluently. You thought that perhaps it was the difference of teachers. Still, it sounded delightful.

To have him whisper in High Valyrian was a taste of heaven. 

“Iēdrosa, sȳrkta. Issa iā mittys” (Still, Better. He is a fool) he murmurs, as he knelt in front of you, his hands on your thighs as he accommodates.

His hands move down, as you look at him, his face at the height of your clavicle. His eyes are deep, looking at you with calculating moves. That has been your husband since the war started. He was always looking with careful and almost cold eyes, slightly smug and drunk on the excitement and promise of war. 

“Ao'll ūndegon.  Kesan ērinagon bisa vīlībāzma, syt kesan daor sagon iā mittys dombo.  Gaoman bisa syt īlva lentor.” He murmurs, sweetly, as he moves his hands under the skirt of your dress, smiling a bit. 

You raise your eyebrows, a bit in confusion. He was obviously advanced in High Valyrian, probably fluent as the natives back in the day. You didn’t understand much, barely the words war and win. 

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously as his hands slide up under your skirts, and he looks at you, as his lips curl into the faintest smirk. 

“I think I need luck before going and killing a dragon” He murmurs. “If this plan is to work.”

You indulge him, as he moves your skirts all the way up, he is quick to accommodate between your open legs, and he moves your underclothes rather quickly, and much more when you are wearing so many cloth layers. 

“That is so silly….” You say, as he eagerly pulls down your underclothes “This will not make you win–”

“It will. A proper farewell too” he says, his only eye feasting on your glistening folds, seeing how you made no attempts to refuse him. “Hm.” He hums before pressing his mouth to your cunt.

His tongue snaked out, moving it up all the way in your folds as he heard your satisfied sigh. He loved all the little sounds you let out while he pleasures you. Aemond was a lustful man, not openly, but rather a subtle yet passionate lover. 

His tongue laps on your cunt, relishing on the taste that he has neglected as of late. He used to do it often, making you cum two or three times, depending on his mood. He would stay hours, if permitted, eating you out. 

He closes his one eye, pure bliss on his expression as his hands wrap around your thighs to scoop you closer and he also presses his face closer to your cunt. 

The whimpers you leave, feeling the tip of his nose tease on your folds, drives him insane. He is rock hard on his pants, his tongue moving more at the idea of fucking you. His nose slightly presses more into your cunt, searching a bit blindly to where is your clit, just to hear the loud moan you leave, and how your hands grip the edge of the bed as you do so.

“Valzȳrys…”  you whimper, legs moving a bit more open as he has to groan. Fucking tease, he thinks, with your perfect Valyrian that turns him on so much.

His tongue works double after that, as if it was a little incentive for his own delight. The jaw moves, tensing a bit as his tongue keeps on working, delving deeper into her dripping pussy. He feels the slickness of your arousal, as his face is buried and he can only feel the heat and wetness of it all. 

You feel how his hand grabs yours, interlocking your fingers together as he keeps on feasting on your cunt. It was driving you mad. Each little stroke with his tongue made you roll your eyes and re accommodate your hips closer to his head, almost grinding to ride his face, needing the comfort and pleasure that only he brings you.

“Fuck, Aemond…” you moan, and she gives a small slap on your thigh with his other hand, as you curse. 

Aemond groans as he feels one of your legs, which were above his shoulder, pressing down on his back as your feet seem to push him closer and closer, trying anyhow to keep him eating you out until you cum. That's his wish as well, as he hears your pretty moans and feels your legs quivering a bit. 

“I could eat you…” he is obscene as he slurps, on purpose, trying to be as lewd and loud. “For hours… for years” 

“Don’t tease” the way the weight on your feet on his back gets more evident, he knows you are desperate. 

“Not teasing” he says, moving your skirts, better said, crushing them down so he can look at your face, his lips, chin and even his nose are shiny from your arousal, and the image is obscene. “I’m dead serious. Once I come back-, as a winner, you’ll sit on my face for hours.”

He is a man possessed, as he just keeps going and going, occasionally spitting over your cunt and moving his nose over it, as if he was nuzzling like a cat. His hands are firm, he was not making any effort to allow you to move away, just to remain there and allow him to have his own delight before going to battle. 

He nips at your clit, making the filthiest sounds fall from your mouth, almost making him go insane. His jaw goes slack, lapping at your cunt as he can feel the flesh clenching greedily at something that isn’t there. He just knows you crave to be fucked.

His fingers, with some of your own dripping arousal, move to caress your clit as his tongue is busy with your hole. You feel the circular movements around your little clit, and you moan loudly.

“Fuck, Aem-!” You cry out loud “I’mgonnacum” your words come slurred, as your legs try to squeeze his head, yet he isn’t one to coward. 

He allows you to cum on his face, soaking his mouth and skin, as he relishes the taste of your cum. He is greedy, and he intends to swallow every bit that he can. 

The aftermath is a bit dizzy as he accommodates your dress, and he watches your face as you reincorporate on your seat, trying for your lungs to remember how to breathe properly, as you pant from exhaustion.

“Come back” you say softly, looking at him. “Please.”

Aemond hums, standing up, moving to accommodate his clothes and eye patch, along with his hair. He was not one of much affection; they were always strange to him yet he did his best to please you with little kisses and such. 

“I promise you.” He says simply, grabbing his sword with a determined expression. “I will come back alive, and all of them coward traitors to my kin will die. The throne and the victory shall be ours, and for good.”

thank you for reading!! reblogs, likes and comments are not necessary but well appreciated ♡