#i would be in a bowling league

[daydadahlias]

if you never discovered 5sos what would you be doing with your free time you think?

crack cocaine

[thatsparrow]

the part in junior year ep 13 (infernal conflict) where pok's on the watch and bill calls over to him like "hey is that gukgak?" and pok's like "captain seacaster, pleasure to see you" before they chat for a bit has me desperate for an oops all parents fantasy high one-shot

[larsnicklas]

2023-24 NHL SEASON SNAPSHOT MOMENTS ↪ WASHINGTON CAPITALS @ ANAHEIM DUCKS

TOM WILSON completes his first career hat trick in his 700th game. His third goal was the game winner as the Capitals defeated the Ducks by a final score of 5-4.

[wybienova]

what if they taught him bowling

[mattzerella-sticks]

Okay, now that I've seen the set pics of Hawkgirl and Guy Gardner, confirming that the Justice League is already formed and under Max Lord's funding (and they're even branded with JL on all their uniforms), I think I am getting a sense of what the story might look like for Superman: Legacy.

We come in on Superman probably already having established himself in Metropolis as a hero for - let's say a year. He's helping people, saving lives, but also probably feeling quite alone, as both Superman and Clark Kent since he believes he needs to keep people at a distance to ensure they remain safe.

During this time we also have two concurrent storylines that have been building since Superman hit the scene:

- the military views Superman as a weapon and want to control him or remove him from play

- the Justice League is a group that wants to add Superman to its roster to boost credibility and popularity (seeing as the roster is full of low-tier name recognition superheroes)

I also think Clark's feeling of 'alienation' will come to a head here, and perhaps he activates something that acts as a beacon for otherworldly creatures to come take him (a la MAWS s2)

I think this will come to a head with the creation of the government's 'answer' to Superman, Ulysses/Ultraman created in a lab overseen by... Lex Luthor. The Engineer acts as the clone's handler.

The Justice League is in town because they are trying, once again, to convince Superman to join them - to be a hero full-time. Telling him he doesn't need a secret identity because he's Superman. He keeps turning them down because he doesn't want to be controlled by Max Lord's PR machine.

So there will be a fight between Superman and Ulysses/Ultraman, and maybe the JL try to engage. Maybe they get beaten or maybe they get told to stand down by Maxwell Lord and they regretfully follow orders. Leaving Superman to fight on his own against the weight of the military set against him until he realizes the damage being done to Metropolis and surrenders. He's lead away just as the third threat arrives.

The third threat to this story is... Brainiac. Who arrives probably at the point in the story after Superman has been arrested.

What I think may happen is the government sends Ulysses/Ultraman and his team to handle the threat, only for them to be soundly beaten, with U either being corrupted in a Cyborg-Superman, Bizzaro, or just killed, and Engineer being affected by Brainiac tech (to begin her transformation into part machine as well).

The government will either realize Superman needs to be released to face this threat, or he will escape to save the day.

Meanwhile, as Brainiac invades Metropolis, Max Lord tells his Justice League to not engage because of a) PR reasons - Superman is now a liability and if they're seen helping him it could affect their popularity or b) he doesn't think they are capable of handling a 'real' crisis, and because of this the team ignores him and follows Superman into battle.

And I think we see the town all fighting back and lending a hand and there will be a point where Superman looks around at his home, seeing all the people he inspired, and realize that this is his legacy. That his helping other people inspires others to do the same and his legacy isn't to be the Last Son of Krypton but is instead Earth's greatest hero and he gets his second wind to save the day and send Brainiac away.

And after the dust clears Superman learns he isn't the last of Krypton. Theres Krypto. There's Kara. And together they are his family.

And so is the staff at Daily Planet, who all race to greet Clark after being scared he perished during the attack.

And so are the Justice League, who agree to part as allies as they work on becoming an actual team and not a wing of Lord Enterprises. Superman tells them maybe one day he'll be a member, and Mister Terrific tells Superman he'd like that.

[fabrickind]

Ever notice that people submitting to @am-i-the-asshole-official who start out with "I know, it's a chronically online problem, but...." have normal-ass problems that could easily arise anywhere irl but just happened to be on Discord

While people who act like their ask is super serious have zero self-awareness about how chronically online their shipping discourse or whatever is

[butters-flower-mom]

It's canon that Butters sucks at sports though he's shown to be a really skilled golfer. I think he'd also be really good at bowling too. He's got a natural curve and once he practices enough to get the hang of it, he can bowl an almost perfect game.

[wherethewaterstarts-andyouend]

.

[bet-on-me-13]

The Ambassador

So! It was finally happening. After Years of Pleading with the Guardians and other Ruling Bodies of the Galactic Community, the Justice League had finally gotten then to agree to create an Alliance with Earth.

With an Alliance, Earth would gain the Protection of Multiple Empires and The Guardians, which would mean an end to the Constant Alien Invasions they faced. There was also the legal opening of Trade Routes between Planets to exchange Technology and Resources on the Galactic Scale.

Of course Earth would return the Favor, legally being able to defend it's Allies with its unusually large population if Superheroes and quickly advancing Tech, while also trading Tech and Resources between Planets.

Of course the battle was not entirely won yet.

They still needed to begin Negotiations to see if both sides would even agree to the Alliance in the First Place, as well as decide on the specifics of the Treaty. The United Nation's would decide on Ambassadors to represent the different countries, while the different Alien Governments would send an Ambassador Each.

When the Ambassadors arrived, they asked to be introduced to the Representatives of the Planet. Except, they claimed that there was a missing Member.

They claimed that there was one more Major Kingdom on the Planet, the most Powerful One, which they felt must be at the Negotiations.

When asked who this missing Ambassador was, they simply replied, "King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, he and a Shard of his Kingdom reside on this Planet, do they not?"

Now they are working around the clock to find this missing Kingdom, because the Alien Ambassadors refused to negotiate without the most powerful Kingdom at the Table, and they woud not wait forever.

Just who was this "King Phantom", and why had he not revealed himself yet?

...

Sam and Tucker sat on the Couch in their apartment, staring at the TV as the Chosen Representatives for America finished their Speech. Apparently the Peace Talks had been put on Hold for a few more days as they did some last minute preparations. Something about making their Guests more comfortable before they began discussing politics.

"Hey Danny, they're delaying the Negotiations for a few more days." Sam called over to the Kitchen.

"Aw, what?!" Shouted Danny from the Kitchen, sounding extremely disappointed, "I just finished making all the Popcorn!"

"I know Honey, its too bad." Tucker comforted his Partner, "Let's marathon Star Trek instead, how about that?"

Danny slumped out of kitchen and into the Couch between them, steaming bowl of Popcorn in his Lap, "I guess. We can make good use of all this popcorn at least."

Sam patted him on the arm, "Hey it's okay, the Talks will just take a few more days."

Danny shrugged, "Yeah, you're right. Man, what I wouldn't give to be in that Room."

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

let's pretend that this is the right timeline because what if Dick becomes Batman at the same time when Wally becomes The Flash?

let's also say that this is just like the Justice League animated series wherein the League members don't know each member's identities (except of course Bruce, he knows everybody).

how funny would it be if Dick and Wally are together and the rest of the League are confused because all of a sudden Batman and Flash are close like super close? i mean they have witnessed how Flash gets intimidated by Batman. now, that's not the case anymore.

during a meeting:

Hal, leaning to John during a League meeting, whispers: I'm not losing my mind, right?

John, whispers back: I think I know what you mean.

Hal: Why is Flash making heart eyes to Bats????

John: I know??? Flash doesn't even look him in the eyes before.

Hal: That's so odd, dude.

Batman glances at the two Green Lanterns which makes them shut up.

meanwhile, across the table, Martian Manhunter has a light smile on his lips and Superman covers his laugh with a cough.

-

at the cafeteria:

Ollie: Hey, Dinah. Have you noticed something unusual between Batman and Flash lately?

Dinah: It is quite unusual, huh? I was talking to Hawkgirl the other day and she said she saw Flash bridal carry Bats.

Ollie: What the actual fu-

Flash, approaches the couple's table with a big bowl of nachos on his hand: Hey, guys! Mind if I sit with you?

Ollie and Dinah give a knowing look at each other. a conversation they definitely will finish later.

-

during in an another planet mission:

Batman, after announcing everyone's partners for the mission:... And lastly, I will pair up with Flash in today's mission.

Flash grins widely, that has Arthur thinking his cheeks might be hurting after that.

Arthur: Yeah, yeah. At this point, we already know, Bats!

the Green Lanterns, along with Captain Marvel and Booster Gold, snicker at his comment.

Batman ignores Arthur's comment and the rest of the members scatter to their assigned locations.

Victor, who was paired with Arthur: Was gonna give that comment too.

Arthur: It's like they are inseparable all of a sudden.

Victor, shakes his head: Well, I have seen weirder things.

-

in the meeting hall:

Wonder Woman, pulls Batman in the corner of the room: Okay, that's enough. You are truly ignoring me. What is going on with you lately?

Batman: Did the rest of the League put you up to this?

Wonder Woman, has her hands on her hips: They didn't need to. So, tell me. And don't you ever lie to me, I can see right through you, Batman.

Batman, sighs: It's hard for me to explain. I can't-I can't tell you right now.

Wonder Woman: Hera! Now, Bru-Batman.

before Batman responses, the door of the meeting hall opens and in comes Robin with his katana. the conversations between the League members come to a stop as they stare at the young hero.

Robin, glances at everyone, before approaching Flash: I need help with an important matter.

Flash, smiles and ruffles Robin's hair, as if that's second nature: Of course, little dude.

Hal, stands up from his seat: THAT'S IT! Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on????

Ollie, stands up with him: Are we in another dimension that I don't know about?????

Dinah pulls Ollie down by his arm to make him sit again.

the rest of the League members start to converse against each other.

Superman, floats a bit from his seat: Why don't we all settle down? There's nothing to be alarmed about.

Robin, shakes his head: Tt. Absolute fools.

by the time Bruce and Barry are back:

-

Bruce, pinches the bridge of his nose: Chum, you could at least be discreet with Wally.

Dick: It's not my fault, B! I swear I was going to explain to Aunt Diana then Dami entered the room.

Damian: Tt. Don't blame me, Grayson. Why don't you lecture West on how to be more responsible? He left me on read when I asked help for my Science project.

Dick, sighs: And what about Timmy? He could have helped.

Damian: I don't want anything to do with Drake.

Bruce massages his temples as he feels a headache coming up.

-

Barry: Wally!!!!

Wally, zooms right in front of Barry: I couldn't help it, okay?? Dick is just irresistible.

Iris giggles as she prepares the table for dinner.

Barry, sighs: That's alright. I'll talk to Bats on how we can explain it to the team.

Wally, grins and sits down by the table: It was hard not to laugh at them. They were so confused.

Barry, chuckles: I'm sure Hal's expression was the funniest.

Wally, laughs: You have no idea, Uncle Barry.

[woodland-gremlin]

Fruitloops

“We’re home!” Conner bellows, posing like he just won the Super Bowl, with Tim behind him looking exasperated.

“Welcome home,” Danny says from the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up the Fudge.”

Hearing the word Fudge Conner cheers before running to the kitchen door. “I call licking the spoon!”

Tim freezes before rushing to catch up with Conner. Danny’s Phantom Fudge was legendary and there was no way he was going to give up the right to lick the spoon without a fight. Conner may have super powers and a head start but he didn’t free Bruce from being stuck in the time stream with his boyfriends by just his good looks, though they certainly helped.

He looks around to see what can give him an advantage in his quest for legendary Fudge when he sees something that causes his heart to drop. League of Assassins garb peeking out through the hallways closet.

His mind began to work in overtime trying to figure out what this could mean. While it seems like one of the League’s assassins is for some reason hiding in his closet, that also makes very little sense. If one were here they would never make such a mistake. It could be one of Danny or Conner’s souvenirs that they liberated from the League when the three of them blew up a bunch of their bases. But that doesn’t explain why they would be in one of their apartment closets, they keep that stuff in the Nest with the rest of the stuff connected to their alter-egos. Though Danny does like to bring some of his inventions here to fiddle with sometimes, he usually phases them into things to hide them when he isn’t working on them.

As Tim prepares for a fight while trying to figure out the assassin grab Danny phases his head through the kitchen wall. “Tim want some Fudge?” he asks before looking at what caught Tim’s interest. “Why are you looking at where I tied up the Cultist Fruitloop?”

Tim’s eyes widen before turning to where Danny’s head was poking through the wall. “Ras?!” Tim squeaks. This catches attention from where he was gorging himself with Fudge. “Ra’s here?!” he asks while rushing towards them, getting ready to fight.

Danny phases through the rest of the wall before shrugging like he didn’t just say there was an immortal leader of a cult of assassins tied up in their closet.

“Well, he kind of just showed up and started ranting about how he would make you,” Danny says while gesturing towards Tim, “his, so I knocked him out with the anti-creep stick and tied him up before shoving him in the closet.”

Tim wanted to bang his head against the wall and from the look of it Conner wasn’t that far behind him in that thought. This was Ras for Ancients sake and here Danny was acting like he was some common thug.

“You don’t seem very concerned,” Conner said, stating the obvious.

Danny shrugs again, “Well yeah, I phased his weapons into me and tied him up. Plus the Original Fruitloop does stuff like this all the time. Doesn’t yours do it too?”

And that, that made sense. It wasn’t that Danny wasn’t taking it seriously, it was that he was used to it. They all were. Each of them had some older Creep that was obsessed with them. He had Ras to deal with, Conner had Luthor, and Danny had been dealing with Masters for years. Honestly, if Masters or Luthor showed up and acted like Ras did he would have tied them up and stuffed them in the closet too.

“Just tell us sooner next time,” Tim sighs.

Danny chuckles nervously while rubbing the back of his head., “Yeah, will do. I just kind of forgot since he showed up in the middle of me making the Fudge.”

Conner gasps, leaning against the wall like he had just heard the most sacrilegious of news. “He interrupted the sacred ritual that is the making of Fudge?!?!” Conner then continues with his hand on his heart, “The audacity.”

Danny snorts while Tim facepalms. It’s moments like this that made him wonder why he loves these two idiots.

“Why is he tied up like a pig?” Conner asks after opening the closet, looking at Ras.

“Because he is one,” Danny absentmindedly replied.

And then it was moments like this that he remembers why.

[nouearth]

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter… 

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it. 

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more. 

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end. 

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was. 

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

 “oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“ 

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy. 

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen. 

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you. 

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change. 

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face. 

you. that was all he wanted. 

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look. 

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then.  not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.  

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now. 

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,” 

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur. 

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise. 

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you. 

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it. 

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment. 

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress. 

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch. 

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

 “i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster. 

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it. 

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor. 

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.  

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed. 

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more. 

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off. 

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean. 

nothing was wasted. 

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[stealingyourbones]

Danny is cold.

The numbness at his fingertips, nipping and just off from painful, had spread down to his forearms. Frostbite is inevitable—a sickly purplish blue that reached across each knuckle like night fading into day, unfeeling as they brush against blades of wet grass. Each digit trembles and shakes as if feeling tremors of an earthquake days in advance.

Each puff of air crystallizes the moment they leave his mouth before quickly melting away again, little clouds that, back when Danny could be a kid again, smiling ever-so brightly, he would have been amused by. Giddy even.

But now? Now it just solidifies the fact that he’s sick. Deathly ill from something outside any of their control.

Nothing is working thus far. The ghosts have noticed long since it first began, and are working alongside humans to bring back their resident nuisance in sake of continuing this little back-and-forth they’ve perfected throughout the years. Mom and Dad are suspicious, of course, but are willing to try anything.

Today, Danny sits in bed, shivering from head to toe underneath at least three layers of blanket.

Frostbite (the yeti) knocked before entering, holding a small bowl in hand. He appears older than he has ever looked, from stress no doubt, yet there is hope within those eyes.

“Little lord,” he began, and if Danny could groan he would. Every since the defeat of the late ghost king, he’s been called that by every yeti that’s crossed paths with him. “We have a new medicine for you to try. Can you sit up?”

Danny whimpered a little at the mere prospect of moving but goes to anyway. He slowly arose from his laid down position, rocking a little.

Frostbite brought the bowl to his lips and ever-so delicately tipped it, having what his prying gaze caught as bright green dust slide down his throat. And only pulled away when half of it was eaten.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Danny had to take a moment to process the slowly regaining feeling of his arms. “Warm.”

Amazed, he turned toward the yeti. “What was that?”

Frostbite—who was beaming with relief—chuckled, far too emotion for any cryptic messaging within his next words. “Kryptonite. We’ve just now found it on Earth, from some place called Metropolis. It’s incredibly rare in the Ghost Zone, so finding it here is nothing short from a miracle.”

The Justice League doesn't know why there's a sudden influx of extra dimensional entities attacking various Superman villains and stealing their stashes of kryptonite, but there's no way this situation is going to end pleasantly. Frostbite instructed all of Phantom's rogues gallery to track down and collect kryptonite.

[frownyalfred]

HIIIII!!!

What are your head cannons about Bruce during his league of assassins days??Could be goofy or serious!!!

THANKSSS <3333

Ra’s wanted to fuck him and get him pregnant but since Bruce was male he relented and had Talia do it instead

They killed people a lot, in a variety of different ways, and Bruce developed his no-killing rule after seeing years of it, not just one death like we see in Batman Begins (I think this makes it more powerful)

Bruce learned meditation so strong it actually does promote some cellular regeneration and attacks poisons in the bloodstream

Ra’s gave Bruce private lessons when he realized how much potential he had, and the other resented (and punished) Bruce for this

Bruce has an eidetic memory and picked up fragments of many different languages while training

Ra’s showed him a Lazarus Pit once but didn’t explain what it was. Bruce put it together years later

Legally, Bruce and Talia are still technically married since their marriage was appropriately witnessed in the region’s customs

Bruce broke his nose at least four times during his training years and had to get a rhinoplasty when he returned to Gotham

Alfred didn’t hear from him for those years, and assumed Bruce was dead. But he always hoped, and the day he got Bruce’s call that he was returning, it nearly bowled him over

Gotham is eldritch-adjacent and got noticeably worse simply because Bruce (its Prince) was physically gone from the city for so long

Bruce always thought Talia should lead the League. He didn’t trust Ra’s but tolerated him because Talia was devoted to him

If Ra’s had managed to bring Bruce into the leadership of the League, it would have been bad. Bad.

Bruce missed the anonymity of his training days as soon as he stepped foot back in Gotham. But he learned to embrace fame again as an adult

Bruce put on MUSCLE overseas and Alfred barely recognized him when he returned for a variety of reasons (scars, muscles, temperament, how goddamned quiet he is)

[spicyspiders]

I could give you a request if that’s inspiration for a Wolverine/Deadpool threesome - but feel free to ignore if it’s not your thing :)

I could imagine reader being an assassin, getting the objective to kill Wade (without knowing it’s impossible) and y’know, failing miserably. Ending up sandwiched between Wade and Logan, Wade wanting to know who sent him, and then getting rewarded for being such a good boy and telling.

Warning for sex pollen, double penetration, and one instance of Deadpool breaking the fourth wall.

“You look pretty withering in pain like that,” Deadpool said, one of his guns trained to your forehead. 

The man beside him looked at him with his brows drawn in disgust, his arms crossed over his chest. 

You looked up and stole a glance at the man just in time for his eyes to slowly look you over, the intensity of his gaze making you shiver. 

“What?” Deadpool asked, “have you seen the way that suit fits him?” He asked the man. 

“They didn’t tell me there would be two of you,” you said through gritted teeth, your eyes trained back on the floor. Maybe if you stared at it long enough, it would open and swallow you up. 

“This is my partner, Wolverine,” Deadpool said, his voice full of fondness even as he waved the gun pointed at you at the man. 

“Partner? How inclusive,” you said with an eye roll. 

“Business partner,” Wolverine clarified, making Deadpool gasp and pull his other hand to his heart. 

“We share the same bed,” Deadpool told you. 

“Shared! It was one time when,” Wolverine paused, “we fell asleep in a car,” he clarified again. 

“That hurts,” Deadpool said, putting his gun back in the holster, “just like you are now,” he said, kneeling down to the chair he tied your hands behind your back in. “It sure looks like it does,” he said quietly, his head moving down slowly as he looked over your sweaty, disheveled appearance. 

“They said it would kill you,” you whispered. 

“Who said it would kill me?” He asked,

You didn’t know why your mouth couldn’t form the words to tell them the name of the people you work for. Well, worked for. Just minutes before you were tied up, you were yelling into your phone at them, and then they fucking fired you for their fuck up. 

You felt it in your gut when they contacted you with the contract that only told you all you had to do was administer the poison and that it would do the rest, you should have turned it down.

“You didn’t tell me he couldn’t fucking die,” you yelled into your phone before Deadpool had shot it away. Maybe it had to do with the poison, you weren’t sure. You sure felt angry enough to spill who it was, but maybe it was because you were too focused on how when it had gotten on just the small sliver of skin that it did, your body lit up in a mix of pain and arousal. 

The feelings battled each other out all throughout your body, but one overshadowed the other when Deadpool ran a gloved hand over your crotch. Your head fell over the back of the chair and your mouth fell open as you let out a moan louder than you expected. 

“How about this,” Deadpool began, his hand tightening over the bulge that was your hard cock, “you tell me who sent you and we all go kill them together. After we fuck your brains out, of course.”

“We?” Wolverine asked.

“Then you kill me after they’re dead?” You asked, trying not to thrust your hips into Deadpool’s hand. 

“You lasted longer on this stuff than I expected, we could use you,” Deadpool answered. 

“For what?” You questioned, groaning as one of Deadpool’s fingers traced along the print of your cock through your suit. 

“Right now?” Deadpool asked, “to cum,” he said, giggling at his own joke, “but after that, you can join my strike team,” he said, already sounding excited. 

“What is that, a bowling league?” You asked. 

Deadpool doubled over in laughter, his head hovering right over your crotch. “I like a man that can make me laugh,” he said, wiping away an imaginary tear over his mask. “You better say yes to me fucking you because I’m as hard as the bowling balls that we’re going to use in our strike team slash bowling league,” Dead said as he stood up. 

“I’m sorry,” Wolverine interrupted, “we?” He asked again. 

“C’mon, Logan,” Deadpool said, turning to face the man, “you were definitely looking at his ass when I sat him down in this chair before I tied him up.”

“I just,” Wolverine– Logan cleared his throat before continuing, “didn’t want you to be too rough and break the chair,” he said, looking everywhere but except in the direction of the two of you. 

“Aww!” Deadpool cooed, “you do care!”

The next seconds, minutes, or hours, honestly, you didn’t know, went by in a blur you didn’t remember.  Almost like-

“Almost like they didn’t happen?” Deadpool asked, swatting at your bare ass, now seated in his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, “almost like the writer didn’t feel like adding a transition from where we were to where we are now?”

“What?” You asked. You tried to shake your head to clear away the confusion, and to try and shake off the heat blazing under your skin, but it didn’t help, “where are we?”

“My apartment,” Deadpool answered, holding your asscheeks open. 

“How-”

“Shh,” Logan whispered, “just relax,” he said into your ear, his hands on your hips, his body in the space of Deadpool’s spread legs. 

Relax for what? Deadpool’s cock was already inside you. Your mind was too foggy from whatever had gotten on your skin to form a coherent thought, let alone voice it. Lucky for you, Logan answered your question by pressing the blunt head of his cock to your hole, right where Wade already had you stretched open. 

“I can’t,” you said, trying to move away, but that only got you deeper in Deadpool’s arms. 

“You can,” Logan whispered into your ear before his cock plunged inside. And to your surprise, he was right. Whatever they did must have worked as your body opened up to them, making space for the both of their cocks. 

“You think they would give us the recipe for whatever the fuck they gave you was?” Deadpool asked with a groan as he fell back into the pillows on his bed. 

“Shut the fuck up, Wade,” Logan said, his voice rumbled behind you. 

“Wade?” You asked, your hands on his still clothed chest. 

“Wade Winston Wilson,” Wade responded, puffing out his chest with confidence. 

“Your parents named you after the internet?” You asked, tracing a finger down the zipper on the front of his suit. 

“I just got my cock inside you and I’ve already fucked you stupid,” Wade responded with a laugh. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan said, “both of you,” he said, choosing for himself that you were adjusted and ready for not just his cock, but Wade’s as well.

You wanted to open your mouth and ask why you were the one that was naked, but when Wade raised his hand to your lips, you instead took his gloved fingers into your mouth to mold your tongue around, not words. 

You bit down into the material, your teeth leaving indents into whatever his gloves were made of. They tasted like salt from where they were on your skin as you moaned when Logan fucked back inside. 

“Really gonna make me do all the work?” Logan asked under his breath, but you still both could hear. Which wasn’t fair of him to ask and expect you to respond, especially as he picked up his pace and his cock hit your prostate, clearing any thought from your mind. 

“You look like you have a good handle on it,” Wade answered, the lower half of the head of his mask rising and falling as he panted.

Logan grumbled out something you couldn’t understand before his teeth latched down onto the sweaty column of your neck, making you moan. The pain from his teeth sent a flare pleasure through your body, straight to your cock. 

It gave a twitch, which unbeknownst to you was your cock spurting ropes of cum over Wade’s chest. It took a second for your body to catch up, but once it did, your back arched as your cock continued to spurt messily across Wade’s chest. 

“Fuck!” Wade moaned, his other hand moving to your hips to keep you still from Logan’s movements as you clenched on their cocks. “Logan, look what you’ve done!” 

“It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure this is what you wanted to happen,” Logan responded after he pulled his mouth away from your neck, your skin now singing in pain. 

“This is going to ruin my suit,” Wade whimpered before whining at the stimulation to his cock. 

“Sorry,” you responded, your body shaking through the aftershocks. 

“It’s not you, baby,” Wade cooed, the man rising to hold you against his chest, “Logan was too eager to get that weapon of his inside you to get our suits off,” he said, running his hands along your skin in comfort. 

Logan sputtered out a response, his cock throbbing inside you, “you were the one that-”

“Not now, Logan,” Wade interrupted, running a hand down your back, the action feeling possessive, “we’re a little busy, can’t you tell?” He asked, a smirk evident just by the sound of his voice. 

Logan growled, knocking Wade’s hand away before the one went to your shoulder and the other to your hip. Pissed off, Logan started thrusting again at a fast pace, his cock moving in and out of your body. 

Now past the aftershocks, their cocks provoked your prostate, the pleasure of it quickly making your grow hard again. From your shoulder, Logan’s hand moved to your neck to pull you back into a kiss. Logan kissed you slow and deep, like he was trying to show off what he could do because he wasn’t wearing a mask that covered his entire face like Wade was.

“You know all I have to do is lift up the bottom of my mask,” Deadpool said, his hips grinding up to get his cock deeper into your hole, like that was even possible, “besides. I want our first kiss to be special: a movie about a masked anit-hero, then a candlelit dinner, and finally, wine dine sixty-”

“Shut up, Wade!” You and Logan said in unison before your lips pressed together again, just to annoy the man even more.