#i was coloring skin for the first time in a while

[ask-me-later23]

Can you write a little blurb about reader having a sleepy cuddly afternoon with Spencer?

Soft rays of light drifted through the curtains and across your face, a gentle reminder from the sun of its limited time with you. As much as you wanted to continue your adventures within your dreamscape, you were quickly stolen away, back to the real world. Back to the too small couch currently hosting you and your too tall boyfriend, Spencer. 

Afternoons like this were rare with him, he was always on call and even when he was home you both were typically too busy to spend an afternoon doing nothing. You both got the afternoon off and while you had said it would be just a few minutes of rest, those few minutes turned into a few hours, which had developed into the entire day.

Spencer was still asleep, you try not to move too much and wake him. His insomnia refuses to let him sleep for more than a few hours, so you know he needs what rest he can get.

This was also your favorite time to look at him, when he had his guard down and looked the most at peace. The beams that drew you from sleep now dance across his curls, making them shine a golden color that reminds you of honey. Freckles are sprinkled across his skin. You remember how you used to make a game of kissing each of them when you first got together. The memories bring a soft smile to your face as you listen to his snores. 

As if realizing he’s being watched, Spencer finally stirs. His eyes flitter open, revealing the rich, brown color that always reminded you of dark, vintage books. The corner of his lips tilt up into a smile and he pulls you in tighter. 

“Good afternoon sleepy,” you mumble as you nuzzle into his neck.

He plants a soft kiss onto your forehead. “Sleep well?”

“As well as I can having to listen to your loud ass snoring,” you tease, sitting up to check the time on your phone. 

Spencer rolls his eyes and rests his head back against the arm of the couch, stretching his arm across his face to cover the light. “45% of adult males snore on a regular basis, and it only gets worse with age. You should really get used to it.”

“Guess I’ll just have to go find somewhere else to sleep then.” You act like you’re going to stand up, only to have Spencer jump up from his resting position and drag you back down with him, his grasp unusually strong for a man of his stature. 

“Not gonna happen.” His grip holds firm as you attempt to wiggle away, giggling.

“We really should get up and be productive,” you murmur into his chest where he currently has your face stuck.

“Productivity is for tomorrow, today is for sleeping and comfort.”

While your mind tells you that his logic is faulty, you can’t ignore how his sweater smells strongly of books and laundry detergent, or how comforting that smell is. You also cannot ignore the circles he is currently rubbing on your back, just underneath your own sweater. So, instead of protesting, you nestle in closer and shut your eyes once more.

“Sleep it is.”

You both drift off to sleep again, locked in each other’s arms and isolated from the outside world. When you inevitably wake again and hear Spencer’s soft snores, all you can do is smile.

[marysfics]

Against the Wind

Your profession is more dangerous than your girlfriend's.

Fluff

The gentle hum of the Spanish countryside was a peaceful backdrop as you adjusted the straps on your helmet, the familiar weight of it a comfort before what would be another intense downhill training session. You stood by your bike, the sleek lines and custom colors gleaming in the soft sunlight, while the rugged mountain trail stretched ahead, steep and unforgiving.

Behind you, you heard the light sound of footsteps. You didn't need to turn to know who it was; the familiar energy made your heart quicken. Alexia Putellas was watching you, as she always did before a big ride—quiet but present, her support unwavering, though today there was something more behind her eyes.

"Are you sure about this one?" she asked softly, her voice holding a gentle note of concern.

You turned, meeting her gaze. The sunlight hit her perfectly, casting a halo around her golden-brown hair, but it was her expression that caught your attention. Alexia was strong, focused, a force on and off the pitch, but when it came to your career—the steep drops, the high speeds, the unforgiving terrain—there was always a flicker of worry in her eyes.

You smiled, walking over to where she stood by your gear bag. "You ask me that every time, Ale." You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering on her skin. "But yes, I’m sure. It’s just another practice run."

Her lips quirked into a smile, but the concern didn’t fade completely. "I know, but this trail is… different. Steeper, more dangerous."

You glanced back at the path, its jagged edges and unpredictable turns thrilling you in the way only a true downhill racer could understand. It was the same thrill that Alexia felt on the pitch, that need to push boundaries, to test your limits. But you understood her worry—downhill biking was unpredictable. One mistake could lead to serious injury, or worse.

Turning back to her, you reached for her hand. "I get it. I know you worry about me, but I love this just like you love football. The adrenaline, the challenge… it’s who I am."

Her fingers tightened around yours, a sigh escaping her lips. "And I love who you are. That’s why I worry."

Your heart warmed at her words, and you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Alexia returned it, her free hand resting against your cheek as if grounding herself in the moment, in you.

When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours. "I’m proud of you, you know. Always. For chasing your dreams, for being fearless."

You smiled, a flicker of pride and love swelling in your chest. "I’m proud of you too. You’re unstoppable out there, Ale. And you’re always there for me. I couldn’t do this without you."

Alexia’s expression softened, but the shadow of concern still lingered. "Just… be careful, okay?"

You nodded, your smile reassuring. "Always." You squeezed her hand before pulling back, grabbing your bike and rolling it to the trail’s edge. You could feel her eyes on you as you mounted the bike, the weight of her emotions following you like a second shadow.

As you positioned yourself, the familiar excitement bubbled up. The trail was daunting, with its sharp bends and sudden drops, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Still, Alexia's presence, her constant support and care, gave you a new sense of responsibility. You wanted to be at your best—for her, for the future you both saw together.

"Ready?" you called back over your shoulder, your voice light, trying to ease the tension.

Alexia’s arms were crossed, but there was a glint of pride in her eyes now. "Always."

With that, you pushed off, the wind immediately rushing past you as your bike soared down the first steep incline. The world around you blurred, the trees and rocks becoming mere flashes in your peripheral vision as you focused on the path ahead. Each turn demanded your full attention, every dip and jump testing your reflexes.

But even in the midst of the high-speed descent, you thought of Alexia. Her love, her concern—it wasn’t a weight, but rather a reminder of what waited for you at the bottom of the mountain. You weren’t just racing for the thrill of it anymore; you were racing for her, for the life you were building together.

The final stretch approached, and with one last burst of speed, you flew across the finish, coming to a skidding stop. Your heart pounded, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but it was the sound of Alexia’s approaching footsteps that grounded you.

Before you could even dismount, she was there, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "You did it," she whispered into your ear, her voice filled with pride, relief, and something deeper—love.

You grinned, pulling off your helmet and resting your forehead against hers. "I did. And I’m still in one piece."

Alexia chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. "Thank God."

For a moment, the world around you disappeared, and it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of that mountain, together against the wind.

And as long as you had Alexia by your side, you knew you could face any challenge, any race—because she made you feel invincible, even in the face of danger.

"I love you," you murmured, brushing a kiss against her temple.

"I love you too," she replied, her arms tightening around you. "But next time, I’m picking a trail that’s a little less... life-threatening."

You laughed, the sound echoing through the valley below, and in that moment, you knew you’d never trade this life for anything—not the risk, not the thrill, and certainly not the woman who stood with you through it all.

[rafecameroninterlude]

congrats on 5k you deserve it! can i request a 🍪 for bitchykook!reader w/ the song ‘agora hills’ by doja cat?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬

pairing: cocky!rafe x bitchy!kook!reader

summary: ❝kissing, i hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off, i wanna show you off. i wanna brag about it.❞ — you and rafe make your relationship official by showing up to a party together.

warnings: excessive pda, suggestive language, making out, dry humping, drinking, i feel like voyeurism should be a warning because everyone is feeling things watching the two of you lolll, suggestive ending

word count: 0.7k

a/n: i’ve had this song stuck in my head foreverrrr!! thank you for this req <333 i could also imagine ‘agora hills’ playing while they’re making out with eachother lol. feel free to participate in this poll if you’d like 🤍

rafe knew he was the luckiest man on the island when you accepted his girlfriend proposal. you never gave anyone the time of day, always shutting down any advances guys tried to make on you. you were nearly impossible to obtain, but the kook king himself loved a challenge. rafe wasn’t the first persistent man to come your way, but he was the first, and only one, who was able to handle you and your personality. you were mean to him and instead of cowering away, he was mean back, prompting you to keep running your mouth so he could ‘use it for something worth losing your breath for.’

you pushed him, and he pushed harder. he wasn’t intimidated by you, and you loved it. while you two decided to keep your relationship under wraps, both of you came to the mutual decision to go public. especially since you and rafe still had people who expressed the utmost interest in both of you. ‘swear, i’m gonna knock his teeth in when i see him.’ rafe would be cursing under his breath every time you told him about a guy who tried hitting on you. ‘seems like it’s time to make our relationship known, don’t you think?’ you had agreed, already thinking about what outfit you should wear for the night.

a few hours later, and rafe was guiding you through the crowd at topper’s house, all eyes falling on you two. you could feel the glares from the girls who thought they had a chance with your boyfriend burning against your skin. you basked in the feeling of crushing their egos, your piercing eyes meeting theirs as rafe pulled you closer to him. he was so tall and so handsome, butterflies fluttered in your tummy at the sight of him. rafe took your hand, fixing himself behind you as you two approached his friends, presenting you like a gold medal as topper and kelce got all of their friends to cheer for you and rafe.

“that’s what the fuck i’m talking about, ‘cameron!” topper gave up his seat on the couch, motioning for you and rafe to sit down as he poured everyone a round of shots. rafe felt his chest bloom with pride when all of his friends ogled you as if they couldn’t believe you were really sitting here in his lap. “looks like you did the impossible.” kelce whispered in rafe’s ear while flashing you a smile. handing you a shot, all of rafe’s friends wished you two the best before all of you downed the burning liquor. soon, one shot turned into four, and before you knew it, you and rafe were very tipsy and handsy.

instead of being seated in his lap, you were now straddling him, your dress riding up your thighs as he basically sucked your face off. you couldn’t help but move your hips against his, his hands coming down to rest on the globes of your ass as you pressed kisses along his neckline. it wasn’t long before rafe’s friends, and practically the whole party knew the color of your underwear, a drunken ‘oops!’ leaving your lips when you turned around and saw everyone looking at you with dark eyes. while girls wanted to be you, the guys wished they were rafe who had a girl as beautiful as you grinding on their lap.

“they’re all looking at us..” you giggled against rafe’s lips. “i don’t care, let them watch,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth, “just wanna show you off.” rafe blinked slowly, bringing his mouth to your neck where he nipped softly at your flesh. you moaned, hands finding the erection in his pants. “fuck.” he hissed when you palmed his length, his cock twitching in his pants when he saw the way you were looking at him. “aye, ‘top,” rafe nudged his friend, “s’your room free?” topper glanced between the two of you, watching the way your fingers trailed underneath your boyfriend’s shirt.

“it’s all yours, bro.” he nodded upstairs. pausing their conversations, the group of guys watched as rafe helped you up from his lap. “there’s condoms in the bathroom.” topper cleared his throat, in which you turned to face him. “we don’t use those!” you waved him off with a giggle, a smug grin taking over rafe’s features. now everyone knew he was was fucking you raw every chance he got. placing his hand on the small of your back, rafe guided you upstairs, both of you still trying to makeout on the way up there. kelce cursed under his breath when rafe landed a harsh smack on your ass, a wicked smile gracing your lips.

“i just know those two have the craziest sex.”

[ravencantwrite]

Young Charles Xavier with anxious! Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, allusions to panic attacks, mentions of skin picking and nail-biting, overall tried to make it as fluffy as possible.

Talks to you telepathically when you're too overwhelmed to talk

The sound of people, the lights, the crowd, everything was too overwhelming tonight. But it wasn't even just that, suddenly, every problem you haven't managed to solve by the end of the week has now decided to demand an answer. Were you ever going to finish writing your papers? Are you doing a good enough job at your report? Why are you out, enjoying life when there's so much work to do? Too many questions were swirling around in your head that you couldn't answer. Too much doubt. Too much of everything.

But it wasn't just your thoughts, you were starting to react physically to all the stress and anxiety that you were feeling. It was difficult understanding if you were actually breathing, any effort at thinking was diverted to constantly remind yourself to manually breathe through your nose.

Charles knows that when this happens you're most likely not going to be able to give any coherent answers apart from single worded, 'yes' or 'no' answers. He lets you hold on to his arm, and regardless of how hard you hold on to him he doesn't let it show on his face. Instead, he uses his other hand to place his palm on your face, your hand gripping on to his wrist trying to ground yourself.

You can hear his voice trying to calm you down inside your head. "Listen to my voice love, tell me what's going on". And while your thoughts aren't any more coherent than your words he pieces everything together and somehow understands what you're trying to tell him.

Gets your lip balm and helps you avoid skin-picking and nail-biting

You're used to picking on the skin of your lips, or biting your nails whenever you're too nervous or preoccupied by your thoughts. By the end of it, you'd end up with blood running down your lips, and uneven nails and no matter how much you tried to avoid it you would unconsciously give in to these habits.

The first time Charles notices blood on your lips he's concerned. At first, he attributes it to the weather or maybe even dehydration, but when you open up to him about your skin-picking problem he becomes more observant. He keeps a lip balm with him at all times and offers it to you every time he realizes you're about to pick at your skin and tries to help you replace your urge to pick at something by either distracting you with random questions or getting you scratch cards.

As for your habit of nail biting, he decides to use a fun way for you to avoid it. He paints your nails for you with your favourite shade, taking his time with the paint brush, painting each stroke carefully so as to not paint your skin. And when you ask him if you could paint his nails too, he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face and happily lets you paint his nails.

"Now we've got matching nail colors too"

Helps you practice conversations

Talking to strangers was often uncomfortable. You got it most days but when you're very particularly anxious, or self-conscious where it's getting you to second guess everything and that's when you tend to avoid talking to people at all because of the amount of stress simply having a conversation could give you. But that's gotten you to miss out on things quite often, including even compromising on things you would have liked to do.

Charles is very careful when he approaches you about trying to practice conversations with him. He doesn't wish to make you feel any worse about it than you already do and tries his best to find the best ways to help you.

"Now, if you're anxious to talk to somebody I want you to take a deep breath, take a moment, and prepare a script on what you want to say. Can you try that with me, love?"

He's very encouraging, always giving you pointers on how you could improve. He makes sure that you know how glad he is that you're trying, and how glad he is that you were comfortable enough with him to try this.

[earthchica]

never lose me | 2

Terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: Terry takes you out on a date and, afterward, makes passionate love to you.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, oral (f), unprotected sex, sweet talking, creampie, slight daddy kink, foreplay, pet names (baby girl, baby, etc.)

note: thank you all for the incredible love you've shown for the first part. There are a lot more Terry fanfics on the way. 😝💗

part two of ( never lose me )

-

It was date night with Terry, and this date was supposedly going to be different from your previous dates, which were pretty low-key but fun.

You were checking yourself out in the mirror, admiring how the satin backless dress hugged your body in all the right places and beautifully color complemented your lovely brown skin.

A soft knock echoed through the hallway; quickly, you brushed a few stray curls away from your face before you hurried to the door and eagerly swung it open.

You were met with the sight of Terry, who stood tall and imposing. He wore a short-sleeved, black button-up shirt, black pants, and dress shoes.

Both of you let out a synchronized "Damn!" as eyes roamed from each other's heads to toes, resulting in a burst of shared laughter.

"Baby girl," Terry's deep voice was passionate as he entered your apartment.

"You look stunning in that dress," Terry expressed with a charming grin, gently placing his hand on your hip.

The warmth of his compliments never failed to bring a wide, lovesick smile to your face. Oh, the effect this man has on you.

"Thank you, Terry. You look mighty fine," you said, touching his shirt and admiring his handsome appearance.

With a confident grin, he replied, "Well, they don't call me playa, playa for nothing" while popping his collar.

You rolled your eyes and playfully hit him on the chest which made him chuckle.

"I'm just playing. Thanks, baby...Oh, shit, I almost forgot, these are for you," he revealed, presenting a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind his back.

You took the bouquet of flowers with a genuine smile illuminating your face. Reflecting on your past relationships, you realize this was the first time anyone had given you flowers.

"Aww, Terry, thank you. They're absolutely gorgeous," You gently rose up on your tiptoes, leaning in to give him a quick, sweet peck on the lips.

After placing the flowers in a vase with water, you grabbed your purse and keys and left your apartment together.

-

"So…where are you taking me tonight, handsome?" You inquired, observing him start the car before turning to look at you.

"You'll find out soon, baby. Be patient," he replied, flashing that charming smile that always made your heart flutter.

You gasped when you arrived at your all-time favorite jazz club. It offered delicious food, a live jazz band, and a dance floor. 

You used to sing here every friday night with the live band, and Terry would always come and support you; sadly, your dreams of becoming a singer never came true.

It had been a while since you last visited. You turned to Terry in surprise; he simply smiled and held your hand as you entered.

A rush of memories flooded back; this place was like a forgotten dream from the past. 

The serene ambiance, the captivating live music, and the sight of people dancing felt like magic rekindled.

You both settled at a candlelit table, ordered some wine, and savored the moment until the waitress approached to take an order.

"I think I'll go for the grilled chicken with rice," You mentioned, browsing the menu as she jotted it down, then turned to Terry.

"I'll have the steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli," He announced, returning the menu to the waitress.

"Great, I'll get the orders in right away," She said with a slight smile, and you both expressed gratitude as she walked off.

With confidence, he said, "I know, I know. I did the damn thang, huh?" and you couldn't help but laugh as you placed your hand on his.

"You did, Terry. Thank you, baby." You expressed your joy with a warm smile.

"Good! Cause all I ever wanted is to bring happiness to your life and see your beautiful smile," he said sincerely.

You gently assured Terry, caressing his cheek as he looked at you with deep love and sweetness, "As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

"I know, baby girl," he murmured, gently pressing his lips against your hand, eliciting an even brighter smile from you.

You never thought you would see Terry's romantic side, but you were happy you did. He was so gentle and sweet; you only knew his tough and rough side.

The waiter brought the steaming, flavorful dishes to the table. As you two savored each bite, engaged in lively conversation, discussing everything and anything.

The live band began to play a cherished, familiar tune that resonated deeply with you. Observing your delight in the soft melody, Terry realized it was the perfect moment for a dance.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, a warm smile on his face. He gracefully stood up and extended his hand towards you, inviting you to join him on the dance floor.

With a smile, you replied, "Yeah," as you placed your hand in his. He tenderly kissed your hand before guiding you to the dance floor.

Terry's warm hands rested gently on your waist as your hands were on his broad, steady shoulders.

The two of you swayed in perfect harmony with the music, completely absorbed in each other's eyes.

In that magical moment, it felt as though a captivating energy enveloped the two of you.

Transporting you both into a world where it was just two of you, dancing in a blissful cloud of love.

You never imagined experiencing love like this; for the past weeks, Terry made you feel incredibly loved and cherished.

You fell even more deeply in love with him with this entirely new and captivating side of him.

With a graceful movement, Terry spun you around and drew you close, planting a passionate and tender kiss on your lips.

You both savored a passionate minute of kissing, lost in the moment before reluctantly drawing back to catch your breath.

You gazed at him with so much love and desire, while his gaze reciprocated the same feelings.

Terry's voice was tender as he asked, "Does my baby need me?" He gently rested his hand on your cheek, his touch as soft as a whisper.

He possessed an intimate understanding of you; not a single word needed to be spoken.

“Mmm, come on, baby girl. Tell me what you need.” He whispered so profoundly and sensually.  

“Yes, I need you…Terry,” You whispered desperately, your fingers gripping his shoulder ferociously as if your life depended on it.

"Okay, baby," he grinned, his warm hand enveloping yours as you both strolled back to your table to pay the bill.

-

The drive back to your apartment felt like an eternity, and as you sat in the car, a wave of overwhelming lust made it seem like you were on the brink of losing your mind.

Terry wasn't help with stroking your leg. His touch was delicate, yet it had the power to get your panties soaked.

He was fully aware of his impact on you and wielded that knowledge precisely.

You were first to enter your apartment, the familiar scent enveloping you. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can react, Terry presses you firmly against the wall.

A moan escapes your lips as his tender kisses trace a path along your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You both moved across the room to your bedroom and slowly shed each other's clothes.

“Terry…I need you.” You let out a gentle moan, slowly pulled away from the tender kiss, and then started to softly stroke his dick, but he stopped you. 

“Shh, I got you, baby—such a needy little thang," he says with a chuckle before continuing to talk.

"I’m going to eat that pussy first and then going to make love to you,” He spoke, carefully lowering you onto the soft bed.

Terry took his precious time, though. He began trailing a path of soft, tender kisses to your neck all down to your stomach, hands grasping your tits for a second.

You were so eager for more that Terry found it amusing how you couldn't hide your impatience and irritation.

Terry let out a deep chuckle as he shifted slightly to get a better view of the adorable little pout on your face.

"It's not funny, Daddy. I need you so bad; please stop teasing," You said, feeling like you were about to cry.

"How much do you need me, baby?" He asked, deeply kissing your inner thigh.

"So much, Daddy. I need you; I need you to eat my pussy, please," You begged.

"Mmmm, so wet and needy for Daddy. I'm giving you what you need, baby" he said, watching him spread your legs out a little wider before diving into you.

You gasped, placing your hand on the top of his head while the other was gripping the sheets. His tongue was magically sliding through your wet folds, swirling around your clit.

“Terry,” you whimper his name, and eyes roll in the back of your head, hitching your hips up an inch to get a little bit more.

Terry let out a little muffled growl, gripping your legs to rock your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth.

“So feels good,” You cried in pleasure, which was always music to his ears. 

He loved hearing how he made you feel good and the pleasure he gave you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head again when you felt his tongue hit an excellent sweet spot. 

“Mmm, you taste so good, baby.” He declares so deeply, voice sending shanks down your spine to your dripping cunt.

Terry dives back in, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace.

“Yes, yes, just like that daddy.” You moaned, feeling him begin to finger you while continuing to suck the soul out of you. 

He lifted a finger to your mouth, and you quickly sucked your juice on his finger, moaning, loving every minute of that. 

“Fuck...that’s my good girl,” He said with a little moan, pulling his finger out of your mouth, which made you whine.

He diving his tongue in and out of your pussy. Your legs began shaking and tense.

The dirty sounds of wet slurping mixed with the squelching of his fingers were...

“I’m so close, Terry…can I cum, please?” you whimpered, voice wavering more and more.

“Cum for me, baby,” he ordered, lips detaching as his fingers pressed hard and deep against that sweet spot.

You cried out his name, shaking from the great release. You lay there panting heavily, trying to get yourself together. 

Terry began kissing up your body to your lips, and you moaned, tasting your sweetness on his tongue. 

"You good, baby?" His voice barely above a whisper, he gently caresses your face, locking eyes with yours in a tender gaze.

"Shit...yeah!" You manage to say the words with a little chuckle. He responds with a grin, leaning in to plant another tender kiss on your lips.

Terry pulls away for a second to grasp his big, erect dick to fill you up perfectly. He groans at the feeling of you wrapped around him tight.

He leaned his forehead against your forehead, pulling out a little bit before thrusting back in, which made you gasp.

You were both in love, lost in the intensity of each other 's eyes as you began this passionate lovemaking. 

His thrusts were slowly and gently, the moans between you two were soft, and the holding of each other was so tight. 

"Shit," Terry groans deeply, throwing his face into your neck for a second before moving back up to fasten the pace a little bit. 

You loved feeling every inch of his dick slowly moving in and out of you. You may be a rough kind of girl, but this slow, gentleness was doing many things for you.

“Ah…you're so beautiful, baby. My girl, you're my girl, right baby?.” Terry gently asked while tenderly placing a kiss on your neck.

 “Yes, I’m your girl, Daddy,” you whispered, looking deeply into his beautiful eyes. 

Terry's strong arms effortlessly lift you, cradling you securely as you instinctively wrap one arm around his broad shoulders.

"Fuck, I love you baby." He moans, leaning his forehead against yours, thrusting up a little faster, setting a steady rhythm. 

"Ah…Terry….I love you, I love so fucking much," You moaned, feeling your pussy clenching around his dick. 

Terry pushed a few curls out of your face before kissing you, gripping your waist tighter. 

You pulled away with a moan, feeling yourself getting ready to cum. Terry immediately could tell by the expression on your face.

"Cum baby. I'm right there with you," He whispers in your ear, which is all you need to go over the edge.

"TERRY!" You cried his name, orgasming intensely. He moaned with a firm grip, seizing the back of your neck while shooting his load inside you.

The two of you remained in that position for a brief moment until Terry gently guided you down to the soft pillows before slowly pulling out of you. 

"Damn, look at that" He smirks proudly, glancing down at his cum dripping out of your pussy. 

Your intense high begins to fade while Terry goes to get a soft washcloth to clean you up.

The two of you settle into a warm cuddle now, and you nestle your head and hand against his chest.

His strong arms wrapped around you, as his hands tenderly caressed your arms.

Both of you were filled with happiness and satisfaction, basking in the afterglow of a deeply fulfilling moment.

[dcxdpdabbles]

i love summon dare au so much, I'd love to see the first date! i have this image in my head of the batfam spying on them, watching cass get increasingly flustered over the course of the date and wondering who this person even is, to so effortlessly destroy cass' composure, of all people

Alfred lets Cass finish her grounding earlier so she can buy a nice dress for her date with Danny. She spends the whole day running around different stores, speaking to personal shoppers, and asking Selina for advice.

She then raced home with multiple bags asking her siblings to rate the outfits. Since none of them were allowed near technology, it turned the boardgame night into a fashion show.

Cass insisted she wanted to be in a dress but couldn't be too formal or casual. She had bought every single one, hoping to give off this sense of perfectly approachable but still the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the county.

Dick was very excited about the summer dress, claiming the linac top and flowing white shirt with roses complimenting her skin and eyes. While Steph agreed with the color, she prefered the red halter dress, stating that it's eye catching and flowing elgeance better suited Cass.

Both Tim and Babs voted for the slipdress, claiming that it never hurt to show off her legs after all the roof-jumping and dancing she did. They said making it black just threw her attractiveness up a few notches and would really knock Danny's socks off.

Duke thought the same thing but thought Danny would lose their mind if Cass showed up wearing a black mini-skirt dress. He had no other reason other than, "That's it. That's Cass' killer look that will leave the mortal enchanted".

Jason claimed everyone looked nice, but it depended on the mood she was trying to set for her date. Specifically, he mentioned that since Danny and her already knew each other, she should focus on making sure the mood was more towards the romantic/seductive route rather than the usually first date to get to know each other.

Eventually, Cass settled on the slipdress because she wanted Danny to swoon, but she wasn't confident enough to wear the mini-skirt. They made her so nervous on a regular day that she felt she needed to wrok her way there.

Damian was swinging between being horrified Cass was agreeing to date the Ghost King and barricading himself in the BatCave Anti-paranormal chamber. Bruce had built it as a panic room after the last time they had to fight along side the Justice Leauge Dark and his kids kept getting possessed by a angry ghost.

At the time, it seemed like a great idea, but now Bruce was struggling to get his son out of it. He may have made it a little too well. Alfred allowed it only because the chamber had no technology, and Damian finished all his chores before sealing himself in. He was told to unseal the door at his bedtime- Cass isn't sure if Damian choose to hide away today since he knew Danny would be about or if he was jsut hiding for fear's sake.

Steph and Babs helped Cass with her makeup, making it a little heavier than her usual light makeup—only because she felt she needed to make an impact—and did her hair into a nice tussle wave pinned statically to frame her face. It took hours of preperationg but by the time the doorbell rang, Cass was more then satisfied by her appearence.

She just hoped Danny felt the same. Cass ran her hands down her outfit, smoothing out non existing wrinkles, before heading towards her bedroom door. Steph gave her one last hug with a squeal, just as she marched towards the stairway.

Jason's suggestion of making a big and dramatic entrance from the grand stairway may have been a bit over the top, but it was worth it to see Danny's lovely blue eyes widen when they locked onto her form.

They were dressed in a dark red suit coat and black pants. They had done their hair slicked back, similar to when they flew around in their ghost form, and frankly, they were so gorgeous Cass missed a step on the stairs.

She gasped, frailing her arms to try to gain some balance, but only succeeded in flinging herself into the railing with a yep. She felt more than saw her siblings startle, a few flinching in her direction, ready to catch her if needed.

Impish laughter filled the air as Danny chuckled, warmth, affection and amusment clinging to thier words. "Still as clumspy as ever."

The rest of the Wayne threw them bug eye looks as Cass laughs nervously. She never been anyhting but graceful in her entire life, yet with Danny it felt like the complete control of her limbs she always pride herself in seemed to vanished.

Cass in point, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, at the same time as Danny, her foot went sideways, and she stumbled into her date. They catch her quickly, turning the fall into a tender hold with a wide smile. "I can't belive you just fell for me."

Cass' embarrassment lessened as Danny winked at her, reminding her that this person had seen her at the worst part of her life. They were the ones that had done everything they could to establish communication when all she knew was the violence of her father. They had been the ones to teach her the stars' myths and wonders before she knew thier names.

They had been the ones that wrapped her in clothes from a regular store with what little they were able to pan-hand and been the same one who paid for her haircut, holding her hand as she watched a stranger approach her with a pair of sissors.

Her father didn't care if she knew how to speak, much less if she had a well-kept appearance. He almost seemed to like how feral she looked with her long, unkempt hair and league uniform.

Strange that it took an unhuman being to make her feel like an actual human for the first time in her life. Ghost King or not, Danny was the best thing that ever happened to her.

And they agreed to a date with Cass. She's the luckiest girl in the world. Any world.

"Ready?" Danny asks, holding out his arm. She carefully wraps her arm with their's, eyes landing on the gender fluid Pin she gifted them. It was the first thing she bought when Bruce adopted her.

Today, it reads them/they, still as shinny and well kept as the day she bought it.

"Yes," Cass whispers, leading Danny towards the door, hyper-aware of her siblings who are straining to look at them. She makes a face at the slack jaw Tim.

He had been in the middle of signing to Dick with the Bat-coded sign language acting like she could see him say "Love is making Cass act stupid."

Her sharp gaze cuts to Dick who doesn't seem to care as he signs back "Our sisiter is doomed"

She'll get them later. Just as they pass though the door way Danny snaps their fingers, opening a portal. Cass smirks when she hears Steph's and Duke's outraged cries.

They had been planning on following in thier bikes and Danny had likely noticed. Too bad for them she got a date with a walking portal maker. No one was spying on her night.

Or any future date if all things go well. She's crossing her fingers hoping it does.

[screamingcrows]

I am sadly not immune to all the talk of Veritas Ratio in a modern university setting... (Manu - I hope I can call you that - your posts are so sweet) pair that with the autumn mood and you get this;

tags: pure fluff, they're about to be dating your honor, modern university au

minors do not interact!

Veritas had been puzzled at first, while it wasn't exactly odd for you to be fidgeting with something during lectures, it was usually limited to a specific set of items: your water bottle, some form of pen (he had a spare of your preferred tucked away in his bag for the inevitable bad days where you'd had to leave your dorm in a hurry), or the keychain on your bag.

Whatever this new item to catch your attention was, your hand had practically been glued to the inside of your pocket for two weeks.

Conveniently hidden out of sight, forcing his hand.

He catches you at your usual autumn spot, at least it was last year, a fairly secluded bench sheltered from the elements by four old chestnut trees.

You jerk in surprise when he sits down next to you, and warmth blooms in his chest when you close the book in your hand and lightly smack the top of his head. Still, there's no real power behind it. Only one hand is holding the book after all.

"Your pocket," his gaze is momentarily drawn to a lone magpie rummaging through the first yellow leaves to bed the ground.

"My pocket?"

A sigh leaves his lips as you parrot his words, turning to look upon your face. Veritas thinks his heart might burst at the soft confusion etched into your features, so reminiscent of a delicately carved masterpiece and still containing so much that could never be conveyed through cold stone.

"Yes. You've been fiddling with something in your pocket for a few weeks. At first I assumed it was a loose thread, but it persisted through days regardless of your outfit," cool air caressed his cheeks as he breathed, carefully tuning his voice to your widening eyes, "naturally, I've grown curious as to the nature of that item."

Silence sweeps through the air, enough that Veritas can faintly hear the buzz of people closer to campus. What would normally be comfortable, has him shifting a bit. Too keenly aware of your downcast eyes, his hands find solace in adjusting his scarf.

It feels invasive when you pull your hand out, and he finds that perhaps this knowledge wasn't worth the price. But the words never make it from the tip of his tongue, not before you've opened your hand to reveal a single chestnut.

He blinks, the smooth brown reflecting what warm sunlight pierces the overhanging canopy.

You're already talking again, "-and I've just always grabbed one since that, it's just a silly tradition but I enjoy it and it's harmless and-"

"Would you tell me how, in detail?"

The way your shoulders slumped a little confirmed his theory, you'd been about to rile yourself up with nervous ramblings. Veritas turned towards you, leaning against the bench while you sought out words.

"The first thing you do is to gather the very first chestnut you lay eyes on," what else was there to do but oblige in the face of your expectant pause, "and then you whisper a wish to it."

Again, he obliges, wringing his nose at the faint scent of detritus that already clings to anything picked from the ground.

"Now you just, well you carry it with you, just like you carry a wish. And if the wish comes true, then you take it to a stream and throw it in after thanking it."

"And if it doesn't?"

Veritas notes with satisfaction how smooth the chestnut feels under his skin, and how pleased you look upon catching him shift it between fingers.

"Then you return it to the ground, bury it somewhere, and let it bloom when spring comes."

A charming sentiment, even if you kept waving your hands dismissively. There'd been no deeper meaning behind it, just a parent taking measures to keep little hands occupied.

It was sweet, the memories painting your eyes with colors he couldn't imagine never getting to see again. Time worked differently with you, it always did, and too soon did the evening air chill.

Several hours had passed, time that Veritas should have spent studying, had allocated in his schedule for completing at least two assignments. Yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn.

"Here," he removed his scarf to bundle it around your neck, deft hands adjusting it to let you breathe, "you were shaking, maybe it's time to head inside?"

Something foreign drifted through your eyes and held him captive, leaning forward like this would make it so easy to-

Your lips were just as forgiving as your words, molding perfectly against his even in the brief moment before his mind caught up and he pulled back.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, cheeks already heating up and mind thrown into a frenzy unrivaled by the most advanced calculations.

All thoughts of your friendship souring turned to dust when he saw you stand, throwing your chestnut as far towards the little lake nearby as you could.

Oh.

With a thundering heart, Veritas pocketed his own chestnut, unable to resist the urge to give it a little pat.

"Wait- you still have yours? Veritas what did you wish for?"

A laugh bubbled from his chest at your expression morphing from bliss to pure petulance, the sound sending flutters through his body, how rarely he could let go.

And always in your presence.

"Veritas! It's not funny, it would've been so romantic!"

He merely hummed, enjoying the fleeting heat of your skin as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "perhaps I wished for something less fleeting."

[romanceclub-confessionss]

As a Russian-speaking user, I really don't think and don't believe that most Russian-speaking people "don't like love interest lines when the partner in it has dark skin." Absolutely not. Communicating with the HUGE Russian-speaking fandom, I noticed that every fourth one chooses a "non-white" favorite. Those with whom I communicate personally are of the opinion (like me) that the love line is what attracts people to lead this love story, first of all, with its character, charisma, humor, and attitude towards the main character. Appearance only matters for the first impression.

It is very unfair to label entire audiences by communicating only to their most unpleasant side. There are intolerant people in every country and every culture, and the problem of "colored" is actually greater among English-speaking users due to historical reasons.Russian speakers treat this with a lively childlike interest; there is no "skin color protocol" in society due to the historical reasons why the problem of oppression arose in the Americas in the first place.

All the best, cookies to the admins)

first of all, while you might have a russian speaking circle that is open-minded to diversity, the broader reality within the ru fandom tells a whole different story. for instance, let's not act like the case of And The Haze Will Take Us was the very first time russian players acted this way. the ru fandom was extremely outraged over characters of colour being introduced in W: Time Catcher and 7 Brothers as well. the reactions delved into blatantly racist comments, that there are "too many" non-white love interests, and that they are "uncomfortable" with it.

second of all, as someone from eastern europe, i can say that extreme racism has always been historically embedded in russian society. and not only with people of colour, but even with other slavic groups/eastern europeans (ukranians, belarusians, etc) and other ethnicities within their borders (rroma). it basically extends to anyone perceived as "other". this isn't just a modern issue.

also, isn't it ironic that while you are complaining about the ru fandom being generalised as racist, you are doing the same exact thing to the english speaking fandom? by saying they are "more racist due to historical reasons", you are literally generalising an entire group based on language and geography, while completely ignoring the fact that bigotry exists everywhere, INCLUDING russia.

instead of deflecting and gaslighting, you should acknowledge and work on your biases within your own community.

all the best.

- mod stef

[badsugargoodpoison]

american-made | steve rogers

steve rogers × gender neutral reader

≈ 1.2k words • fluff + mild angst

You sustain a significant injury while on a mission. In your woozy state, there are some things you just need Steve to know. OR... You tell Steve exactly what color his eyes are.

warnings: implied violence, injuries (wounded side/stomach), blood and blood loss (though nothing graphic), reader makes it out a-okay but there's fear of death or permanent bodily harm, a little goofiness, unspecified relationship (i wrote it with a "mutual feelings but everyone's too chicken to act on it" scenario in mind, but it can be read platonically or romantically ♡), worried Steve

★ no use of y/n | no mention of body size, skin tone, or hair texture/length ★

A/N: Let me know if I missed something! I actually don't know where this came from, Steve isn't even usually My Guy™️ but... umm... my first lil' fic I've ever published, mayhap? I'm tempted to do a quick part two where romantic feelings are expressed but I kinda wanted to leave this as ambiguous as possible. Feedback is appreciated 😊

“Gonna lay you down,” Steve warns. The curves of his lips flatten into a tight seam as you nod. Then, the world tilts until the gunmetal gray ceiling of the jet stares you in the face.

As if they’re magnetized, your eyelids catch each time you blink. The warmth of the darkness tempts you, but you dutifully choose the daylight every time. After all, five minutes ago, Steve instructed you to keep your eyes open, and you'll be damned if you don't follow his orders—especially since they'd come out as staccato as gunfire.

He's still got his hands on you. One warm palm makes a pillow under your stiff shoulders, but the other, pressed to your waist, feels like the hot end of a poker—like a brand of his fingerprints.

The jet rumbles, and so does his voice, sure and low. You'd give anything to be pressed to his chest tight enough to feel the vibration of his words as they roll through him. Now though, all you can do is stare up at him as he moves back into view.

He's taken off his helmet to reveal a scruffy, sweat-soaked halo of hair. Afternoon light illuminates him in swathes of gold as it flickers in from the cockpit. With the blood on his cheekbone, the gray and brown grime settled into the lines of his face, and the bruise on his jaw, he looks every bit an avenging angel.

Or he would, if his brow wasn't pinched so tight.

Blue blue eyes search your face. They're shiny, so shiny you can almost see yourself reflected in them. They remind you of pool water, and of—

"Denim. Eyes are like denim." You state, weary but certain.

Steve's frown deepens.

"What?"

"I had these... these overalls as a kid—ah." You wince as Steve jostles you slightly, but it's not enough to deter you from your story. You bulldoze right ahead, and Steve's never been more grateful for your stubbornness.

"And I—my parents could never get me out of them. I lived in 'em. Practically. Never wanted to... to put on anything else." You heave in a breath, like a sigh at a story you've told a million times, not an attempt to gather up all your strength to get the words out.

"They got sooo gross at some points." Your emphasis on the words makes you giggle, but it also makes the pain flair in your side. Your hand smacks at Steve's lightly where it presses into your slick skin, and your blood smears against his wrist.

"I used to climb trees in 'em and... get cherry popsicle juice down the front but I'd still—still pick them out of the laundry the next morning." You drift off towards the end with a heavy blink and look off to your side into the abyss of the dull metal box you're flying in. It's obvious to him, as someone who's worn the same look many times, that the faraway glaze of your eyes is the sheen of memory brought to the surface.

To hold you any tighter would be to hurt you—and the tremble of his hands wouldn't allow it anyway—but the lump in his throat whispers that your sudden lapse in train of thought is a precursor to something worse.

"Hey—" he begins to say, and he attempts to unwind his brows so his solemnity doesn't startle you. Your focus snaps back to him with jarring intensity. Unabashedly, you stare. He finds himself stuck in your gaze as you slide your focus from one of his eyes to the other. You blink, once, twice, and then nod to yourself, though it's little more than a jerk of your chin. Steve doesn't have the heart to tell you.

"Anyway.” You pick up right where you left off. "They were denim and like the 'xact color of your eyes."

Steve feels something in his chest expand, at once taut and airy: he's a balloon caught in your tight fist. He smiles down at you as soft as he can. You're not finished yet—he can see it in the part of your lips and the shine of your eyes—and he is intent on listening.

"I was—was looking at your eyes the other day and trying to find the right thing. The thing that they are." Your focus drifts again, gaze wobbly and lashes fluttering to kiss your cheeks, but you gulp another breath.

Steve knows your strength is trickling away, that you've held onto consciousness with slippery tired hands and done it beautifully, but you can't do it forever. He wishes you could. He wishes you could stay conscious till he can get you to the medbay, because if you're not talking he has to bear the silence. No blood-curdling scream could ever compare to the dread of silence.

"Yeah? And what are they?" he asks, nearly whispering, and it seems to do the trick. The prompt coaxes your voice back out, and even though you talk past him, and ignore his question entirely to finish your thought, Steve doesn't have the time or the heart to care. He'll take anything he can get—whatever scrap of your voice you'll give to him right now.

"And now I know. They're my denim overalls." A small, proud smile tilts up your lips as your eyes flutter closed. You try to pat his hand, the one holding your insides where they're supposed to be, but it's barely a twitch.

"Now you know." He agrees, amicably. You're right of course, even if he's never seen the overalls you're talking about. Of course you're right.

The mild bemusement gives way to a frantic hammering in his chest; you haven't opened your eyes again.

"Hey.” He frees his hand from behind your back and tucks it underneath your neck, right at the base of your skull. Some of your own blood smears against your jaw as he thumbs across it.

"Hey, can you open your eyes for me, please? I gotta—gotta find the thing that yours are now, okay?"

You snap back to attention, and Steve's heart leaps when the hand over his grips just a little tighter.

"Steve—Steve I gotta tell you something."

You lose your consonants, mouth clumsy around the words like they're melting on your tongue.

Nat calls his name while you work on getting another sentence out and gives him a nod that he understands. The jet is landing. There's a medical team on standby. You're going to be okay.

"Hey, hey, why don't you tell me all about it when you're all patched up, okay?"

"Okay.” You accept easily, lips turning up again and eyes closing. The floor tilts as you begin to descend, but you're anchored by Steve's ridiculously strong arms and the hip he has pressed to your side. He brackets you to the spot with ease—Steve Rogers: 1, gravity: 0.

“I really like talking t'you,” you slur, and you think, through the daze of blood-loss and dull pain, that Steven Grant Rogers lets out a tiny laugh.

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.” The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

---

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

---

THIRTY-FIVE EXCERPT:

“Well, if she’s not your type, Harry, I’m sure I could help you find—”

Roland’s spoon snapped in half; he flinched with a sharp gasp, dropping the broken end of his spoon; it clinked onto the table. The flare of familiar magic crackled and prickled against Harry’s skin, his neck and arm hair standing on end. A faint shiver slid through Harry at the feel of it. The other Slytherin boys froze, their collective gazes swiveling onto Tom.

Tom’s knuckles were white; his tight grip on his fork shook. Tom’s lips thinned, their color stark against his pale skin.

Alphard blinked awake. “Did I just… feel accidental magic from Tom?” he asked in a sleepy voice. He scrunched his eyes. “That’s unusual.”

The blood drained further from Tom’s cheeks.

Roland grinned. “Oho,” he drawled in delight. He grabbed another fork. He leaned an elbow onto the table, glee in his eyes. “Did you wanna shag her, Tom? I’m sure she’d get over herself if you asked with your usual charm—”

Roland’s second fork flung upwards, snapping in half midair. A couple of Slytherin girls cried out, while everyone in the vicinity ducked; the broken fork clanged onto the table, one part landing in a pitcher of pumpkin juice and sending a spray of liquid everywhere. The other piece landed on Simon’s plate, splattering his breakfast all over his front.

Bloody hell.

“Damn,” murmured Alphard.

Quintus’ lips trembled with the visible effort of holding back a smirk.

Cheeks a bright pink with his features pinched in suppressed emotion, Tom bolted to his feet and threw his bag over his shoulder; he fled the Great Hall.

Quintus smacked Roland on the shoulder; Roland squawked in protest. “You have no tact whatsoever,” he muttered.

“Me?” cried Roland. “After what you said a few weeks ago? Have you heard the shit the two of you go on about? I wasn’t saying anything weird. I was just asking if—”

“You were crass,” said Simon. His brow twitched low; his nostrils flared. He vanished the mess from his robes with a roll of his eyes. “And you know this already.”

Roland grinned. He shrugged and didn’t say anything.

Marcus shook his head. “Still… that was a bit strange, wasn’t it?”

“What was?” asked Sebastian.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen uncontrolled magic from Tom.”

---

What in Salazar’s name was that?

Tom was trembling; his magic rippled beneath his skin, wild and restless. He could feel the disquiet and the agitation in his very magic.

He hid in an alcove next to a suit of armor and covered his face with his hands. He never lost control like that. Never. What was happening to him? This was utter madness. I’m losing myself. Control was his strength. He could not lose that. Control over himself was what set him apart from everyone else. Total control over his emotions, his body, his magic. With these, he could control everyone else.

But if he lost that… He lost everything that made Tom who he was.

This didn’t make any sense.

He was getting enough sleep. His wand wasn’t disobeying him or causing any trouble at all. Since when did he have problems with his accidental magic? He never had issues like that. He hadn’t even had issues with it when he was a child, at least not for long. He’d quickly learned how to have total control over his magic as a child.

What is this? What is happening to me?

Tom leaned against the wall, his head knocking lightly against the brick. He took a deep calming breath. Calm down. If he analyzed what was said and what had triggered the lose of control, he’d be able to mitigate losing it the next time.

Olive.

That awful girl had been the problem.

Right?

Having the audacity to break traditions, asking Harry out as her date—they weren’t a couple, so where had she come off with the gall to ask Harry to the Yule Ball? If she’d waited, she might’ve gotten a dance out of Harry.

The suit of armor creaked beside him. The fire in the nearby lamps flickered. Tom’s heart rate spiked. The control over his magic began slipping again and he had to place a hand over his heart in the effort to calm it down.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t the only problem.

It was the idea of Harry dancing with her that irritated him and Tom wasn’t sure what to make of this strange feeling that bubbled and coiled deep within his gut.

And Roland’s disgusting language about sleeping with her irritated Tom even further.

The idea of finding Harry in a forbidden tryst with the girl in the confines of a broom cupboard filled Tom with apocalyptic levels of rage.

Right, that was a very normal reaction. Right. He certainly didn’t feel the same way when Alphard and Quintus got up to their mischief. Why should he feel any differently about Harry?

Oh, but he did.

And Tom didn’t understand why.

[bishopony]

Ohhh buddy I have THOUGHTS (This is so long, I'm so sorry)

1. I actually like Twilight better as a unicorn, she should never have became an Alicorn. (And that's coming from someone who first started watching around S5)

2. However, if Twilight becomes an Alicorn then all the Mane 6 should have been Alicorns. Rainbow, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Applejack, and Rarity did just as much as Twilight! Where are their wings/horns?

(That would have been awesome for the rest of the series!)

3. You are 100% right the tree castle is horrible. It's so barren and empty and so clearly made to sell toys. The library was nice and cozy and fit Twilight perfectly.

4. I absolutely hate redeemed Starlight Glimmer. Words cannot describe how much I despise this mare. You mean to tell me Twilight would throw a child into hell but let Starlight I-broke-space-time Glimmer go?? Absolutely not.

(Sunset Shimmer is a thousand times better and everything Starlight wishes she could be)

5. I actually like that Cozy Glow doesn’t have a backstory. Sometimes villains are just evil to be evil.

That being said, they should have at least tried to reform Cozy Glow. At the bare minimum put her somewhere other than (I can't stress this enough) PONY HELL!! She's like 12 Twilight holy shit-

6. Not enough people read the G4 comics. In fact, you should stop reading this ask and go read the comics instead. Most of them are online for free. I recommend The Return of Queen Chrysalis (1-4), Reflections (17-20), and Siege of the Crystal Empire (31-34).

7. MLP G5 isn't actually that bad, but it took too long to get off the ground. By the time it went from mediocre to good, most people didn't care. (Also Hasbro got greedy and G5 paid the price, but that's a rant for another day)

Also G5 should have been it's own thing, with no ties to G4.

8. Celestia and Luna should not have retired. Celestia I can understand, but Luna? Poor Luna just got back to Earth (or whatever the planet's called), no way is she retiring like 5 years in.

9. The CMC all having the same cutie mark was dumb. (And felt like a cop-out. Let my girls be unique!) Also the cutie mark designs themselves are just the ugliest things ever. Did no one teach that designer color theory??

10. King Sombra is best villain. However they should have picked literally anyone else to voice him in Season 9. Or even have the VA do a different voice! It's not even a bad voice, it's just not King Sombra's voice.

11. The Apples and the Pies are not related. Let me ship Marble Pie and Big Mac in peace. Let people ship Applejack and Pinkie Pie in peace.

12. Sugar Belle and Big Mac are a terrible couple. Maybe they were fine off-screen, but all we see is miscommunication. The only way that marriage is ending is in divorce.

13. I actually like that EQG used pony skin tones instead of human ones. That being said, there was way too much whitewashing—just use the pony's actual coat colors. I promise you can give Luna dark blue skin and it'll be fine. (How the fuck did Habro make the character with literally white skin even whiter?? HOW?? WHY???)

14. And finally (holds up megaphone): Just because Applejack and Rainbow Dash were seen together in the end, that doesn’t automatically mean they’re a couple!!!! —Sincerely, someone who thinks AJ and Rainbow are too similar to be a couple.

Ooooo ok cool I also have some thoughts LMAO. long post so read under the cut

I also like Twilight as a unicorn more than an alicorn but I do think it was right for her to become one since it was the climax of her character arc. The problem is that the show was meant to end after she became an alicorn and it went on for several more season :,) I think she was an alicorn for far too long

Not really sure I agree with this since it was only Twilight's destiny to become an alicorn. While it would've been cool to see them as alicorns and the whole mane 6 put forth equal effort to saving equestria, it just wasn't meant to be lol.

i saw someone's AU where the castle looked more like the student 6's tree of harmony and I like that a lot more, THAT'S how you design a crystal tree house ^^'

I like Starlight Glimmer and her unconventional approaches to problem solving, but man she did get off way easy for nearly destroying the world. I mean, idk, community service or something? Also why is Cozy Glow, a child, in pony hell? Why was she trapped in stone? How did the writers think that was an appropriate punishment but other characters like Starlight and Discord get redemptions? ToT

agreeing, no extra notes lol

I have a few of them! I've read the Nightmare Rarity and mirrorverse ones, I really love the comics

Agree with this one as well. G5's issues all come from Hasbro wanting to make even more money off of G4 and not allowing G5 to be its own thing like it should have. Hasbro, a toy company, should have made way more collectible G5 merch instead of the same cheap brushables of the same 4 characters over and over. I also saw someone on twitter make a good point that the G5 show should've aired on disney+ instead of netflix since that's what most families have nowadays. truly, G5 is just a victim of corporate greed

Yeah I always felt bad for Luna for that lol. If Celestia wants to retire good for her, but at least Luna should've have stuck around and helped Twilight. Can't image Ruler of Equestria is something you just get used to immediately, esp as one person instead of two like before

Totally agree, no extra notes

He's not my favorite villain, but he is fun, and they could've gotten a better VA for him lol. Or at least changed the direction for his voice? The VA is skilled and sounds good but the voice was a little too smooth IMO.

Yeah it was never actually confirmed so it's not canon. I wouldn't worry about shipping them cause the show writers clearly don't care lol

It's kind of forced imo. They're two random characters and I think they just wanted to use Sugar Belle again. I don't remember that episode well but ig discord was stopping them from seeing each other? idk they should've just gone straight to each other. just not anything I'm invested in

Agreed, they should've had their actual pony colors if they're not gonna have realistic skin. It was weird that rarity became pure white and luna was lightened so heavily. and why is celestia pink. if they were trying to avoid racially coding the characters they certainly failed that cause it just implies that they're all white

I think some of the writers said it was canon? Or at least implied since hasbro wouldn't let them confirm it outright. I don't like appledash either way, and can just pretend it isn't real lol.

[graveilexxy]

[justablah56]

did I just stay up till 1 am on a school night to draw Scam Actually? yeah. do I regret it? no not really but we'll see how I'm feeling tomorrow :')

(click for better quality)

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[spicysaladd]

meet zanaren/zanny, unrepentant robin hood type rogue with a heart of sass and gold and an intense pining for karlach (and every woman who breathes within a five mile radius) (and some men) (but mostly karlach)

she would definitely hire a very large woman to paint herself red for...reasons, perhaps while karlach watches (I'm still pre-engine repair tragically)

picrew used: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1561797

[circusclownproductions]

seeing a lot of videos that are like “I didn’t know babies couldn’t have water” so here’s an incomplete list of things you need to know before having a baby

- the obvious, they can’t have water bc milk is incredibly high in water already so excess water leads to over hydration

- babies cannot have honey until 1

- if ur breastfeeding your kid and saving excess milk, make sure you label what you pumped in the morning vs at night bc your body produces different melatonin levels throughout the day and giving your baby daytime milk at night can make them more alert and fuck up their sleep schedule

- idk why ppl keep saying this but swaddling your babies or getting them those baby straight jacket things is not abuse. It chills them out cuz it reminds them of the womb

- babies have a dandruff like buildup on their head called cradle cap, and it’s very easy to deal with and remove with just some baby shampoo, a gentle scrub brush (MADE FOR BABIES!!) and a comb. It does need to be removed tho cuz it can be very painful after a while. This can also continue to happen late into toddlerhood it’s normal

- you have to clean out the creases of your baby’s skin and hands and feet they WILL collect dust😭😭

- you cannot bathe your baby until their umbilical cord naturally falls off. Use a warm damp rag until then

- tummy time is actually very important

- your baby might have a misshapen head at first (not all the time but sometimes) this will either sort itself out or they’ll need a corrective helmet ask your doctor

- I wouldn’t recommend having your baby leave the house very much until they’re at least 6 months old, especially if they’re born near cold and flu season cuz the common cold can kill a newborn

- you’re not an awful horrible person for having postpartum depression and it’s always a million times better to let your baby cry a few minutes longer than normal while you regain your composure than to freak out and give ur kid shaken baby syndrome

- you’re not an awful horrible person for giving your baby formula milk either

- don’t put shoes on your baby it’ll compromise their toe box and balance

- babies put every single thing in their mouths

- the easiest way to burp a baby is to hold them straight up (spine straight) and hold their head a bit higher

- always support their head they barely have necks

- if your baby fights away food, fights tummy time, vomits every single time you burp them, is gaining or losing an unreasonable amount of weight at a time, wheezes after eating, or goes red after eating, chances are they’re probably allergic to the type of milk they’re eating (again ask a doctor but these are just some signs it’s not just colic)

- they will wobble a lot when learning to do things but you gotta fight the urge to help them every single time cuz they gotta learn

- they’re not always spitting out baby food cuz they don’t like it they just don’t know how to eat. Like they don’t know how to push food down they only know how to stick their tongue out so be patient

- babies craniums are broken up into three parts at first that later fuse together, this is to help make birthing easier but it results in a small EXTREMELY sensitive spot in the top of their head that has no protection. This puts their brain at a high risk. Always protect their soft spot

- read to your baby!! Get cute bright colorful sensory books with sight words and read them to your baby it makes such a huge difference in their educational growth and will help them acquire a love for reading early on. And talk to them never shut up just say whatever comes to mind all the time this will strengthen their vocabulary growth also.

- babies poop like a lot. A lot. an unreasonable amount. Bring back up clothes and more diapers than you think

- no pillows or stuffies in the crib and only use a muslin blanket unless it’s especially cold to prevent suffocation

- babies kick reflexively until they’re out of their newborn scrunch (they stay womb shaped for a while) and if your baby is crying and pushing at the swaddle try letting them flail around for a minute

- consoling your baby is not spoiling them ! They need comfort and they will learn to self soothe on their own

- singing lullabies actually works, they can recognize your voice a consistent place of comfort from the womb and the cadence of lullabies is literally engineered to create a calm headspace

- for the love of god do not get boring ass beige toys. Colors are important for their neurological development

- babies are very responsive to praise from a young age so be as supportive of them as you can

- babies get constipated a lot and you have to do like tummy massages to help ease their pain the easiest way is to lay them on their backs and hold one foot in each hand, kick their feet like bicycles, scrunch up, and then stretch their legs out

- holding them on your hip too much will not cause bow legged-ness if your baby is bow legged that was always gonna happen

- they drool so so much and you have to get bibs for them so they don’t get chest eczema

- don’t use scented products on their skin cuz their skin is sooo much thinner than ours

- when your baby first starts sitting on their own never walk away from them without setting up a nest of pillows and blankets around them. Even minor head trauma can mess them up sometimes

- this one is kinda morbid and scary but sometimes babies just die out of nowhere and it’s no one’s fault or anything it’s called sudden infantile death syndrome(SIDS) and it’s about 1.3k deaths on average per year in America so not super common but still very real. 90% of these deaths happen during the first four months however edit: apparently it’s bc of an enzyme deficiency which at the very least you can take steps to try and prevent

- smoking and drinking during pregnancy WILL affect your baby and your breast milk and also might contribute to SIDS cases

- babies sometimes have a big red mark on them somewhere called a stork bite immediately after birth but typically it goes away

- babies can’t see very well for a while after birth and they’re VERY wobbly so they’ll typically bonk their head into your chest and face a lot while trying to support themselves

- female babies might have smth similar to a period the first few days after birth, this is because of the hormone transfer that happens during the birthing process and the days leading up to it

- male babies get random erections for the first few days after birth(hormone transfer again) literally do not be weird about this it’s a baby

- things like weaning your baby onto solid foods, potty training, weaning off pacifiers etc, can actually be directed by the baby and will happen naturally will minimal guidance from the parent(some guidance is still necessary) although I would do individual research into baby led weaning for food to prevent choking

- get those chewy feeding pouches to help with weaning

- the most random things will scare the hell out of your baby don’t take it personal 😭

- baby carriers are life savers (tulas are one of my favorites)

- once babies hit toddlerhood they’re tougher than you think, and a lot of their reaction is based on YOURS. they’re always going to be looking to you for how to react to a situation. Remain calm and if they’re ok they’ll calm down but if they’re genuinely hurt they’ll keep crying

- babies will most likely get ridiculously attached to an inanimate object and you have to keep this thing intact at all costs until they’re old enough to abandon it or they will throw a FIT. I got a lemur plushie from a zoo once and every single one of the kids has bonded their soul with it until about 6 years old and once a month I have to stitch him back up

- don’t compare yourself to other parents. Maybe your kid isnt getting grass fed wild caught north Atlantic cheerios but at least they’re fed. If your kid is alive and healthy and happy you’re doing a good job

- you will need 3 car seats, an infant seat, a grow with me toddler seat, and a booster seat

- getting a good diaper bag is a MUST

- the hair a baby is born with will most likely all fall out or they’ll get a bald spot on the back of their head where they sleep cuz their hair is so fragile and thin but once it grows back it grows back thick

- get like 20 muslin blankets so you always have a backup when the main ones are covered in spit up

- the babies grip IS stronger than yours (keep your hair up and keep pets away best you can)

- your best bet for your teething baby is a pacifier you can put your finger in so you can massage their gums and some chewing toys numbing cream can be dangerous and should be used sparingly

- go ahead and come to terms with the fact you’re gonna have to use a Frida Baby to manually remove snot

- babies can get hair and thread wrapped around their toes and fingers that can cut off their circulation try to make a habit of checking

- don’t hit your kid please it’s nothing but trauma and fucked up coping mechanisms from there pls empathize with your child they’re a person too

- be careful not to pull too hard on their arms and legs(like during play or holding their hand while they walk) and NEVER pick them up by their hands this will very easily cause dislocation

- they might have a little tooth like callous on their lip from their pacifier. This does not hurt them and it will go away but it may hurt during breastfeeding

- breastfeeding will make your boobs different sizes

Yeag that’s all I can think of rn but yk i Will add as I remember stuff ppl are also adding things I forgot in the tags in case you’d like to look thru that as well <3