#moxxxie answers

[ghostsstolemymoxie]

A request here for smut! enemies to lovers hot hate sex on a mission then people over the intercom back at the mansion here oops 🤭

AHHH OK I love this ideaaaa, just hoping I did it justice <3

【You're so gorgeous - then you start talkin'!】

Logan x F! Reader - Enemies to lovers: Hatefuck edition Divider credit @cafekitsune Tags: No use of Y/n, explicit content (18+, MDNI), unprotected p in v (be smarter than Logan and reader folks), rough sex, spitting, unintentional voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism Please don't click read more unless you're over 18 and willing to see 18+ content and the above tagged content. WC: 3k words

"He's the most arrogant, boorish, misogynistic, vile bastard I have ever met in my life!" You hissed down the comms, trying very hard to hide the scowl etched into your features. "Yes, but he's also your partner on this mission," Ororo replied, calmly, her voice crackling somewhat as it travelled into your ear through the wireless bud for your communications.

All around you, all you could hear was chatter, laughter and bawdy noises.

Serves you right, really. After all, you'd been so desperate to get back into the swing of things and get onto the missions since your injury, you had begged Charles to assign you the next mission, not even caring what it was.

Lo and behold, it leads to you and Logan being sent out on an intel-gathering mission at a casino just by the Canadian border. All you needed to do was listen out for some plan to do with Sentinels being built. Charles had been stingy with the details, though you weren't quite sure why. You supposed he'd given the brief more to Logan - the experienced X-man.

As though summoned by your distasteful thoughts, Logan soon joined you in the casino, already holding a glass in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, with plenty of ice. He stepped up alongside you, glancing you up and down and taking in your black-tie attire with a smirk on his face. "You scrub up nice. Makes sense. You're only here as arm candy." He grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. In truth, it was a wonder that his muscles didn't burst free from the white suit he was wearing, but this was no time for gawking at the wonderful body attached to this awful man. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst person they've ever met?" You mock, even as you follow him to one of the tables. "Has anyone told you that you've got a smart mouth? That's not an attractive quality in a lady, y'know." Logan's retort was fast and icy, barbed in a way that only Logan's tone could be.

"Both of you, you need to focus on gathering intel, not on bickering." It was Scott's turn this time, shrill down the comms as he made sure that both of you heard. From the scowl on Logan's face, he heard perfectly.

A friend of Bolivar Trask was on the roulette table tonight - and apparently, he got loose lips after enough scotch. So, Logan took his seat at the same table, keeping his head down and focusing on looking inconspicuous, whilst you lingered at his side, playing the part of the pretty girlfriend attending alongside her man. Logan chugged the rest of his whiskey, holding out the glass to you. "Get me another one, won't you sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. God, that was the worst word he could use for you. It only made you angry. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too, that said he only knew how mad it made you. Despite his mockery though, you kept your composure, putting a smile on your pretty, painted lips. "Sure thing, hun." You said, leaning in, feigning a kiss on his cheek as you whispered: "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll cut your dick off."

He replied only with a scoff, as you headed to the bar, a scowl plastered on your face. The only way you knew it was because you glimpsed it in the mirror whilst waiting to be served. Once seen, it was schooled quickly, though that didn't stop a passerby from noticing.

Whilst you waited for the bartender, idly listening over your comms to hear whatever was being said at the roulette table, you barely noticed his presence, until he sided up right alongside you. He was a handsome guy, though regrettably not as handsome as your begrudging date for the evening, who remained at the table, unaware.

"Now, what could possibly make such a pretty face look so grumpy?" He asked, cooing the words so condescendingly. "I'm not grumpy." You reply, sourly, before forgetting that whilst you can always hear on comms, they can always hear you. A creak across the room sounds as Logan turns to look at you, and a look of something spreads across his face at the sight of the younger man quite obviously coming onto you. You didn't know what that something was, but it lit a strange, desperate spark in your stomach for just a brief moment.

Still, you needed to deal with the interloper first, so you turned back to him. "I'm kind of in a rush. I'm just here to get my partner a drink." "Partner, huh?" He chuckled. "I get it. Long-term relationship but no ring… has he convinced you that being partners is just as good as being married?"

He had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick, though it was probably more your fault for saying partner rather than boyfriend. "It's not like that." You reply, trying to think of the best phrasing to get him to just leave you alone. "Then what's it like, gorgeous?"

The moron was grinning, missing the point as if he was a professional. All you could do was just roll your eyes and try to catch the bartender's attention. Sooner rather than later.

As you turned to speak to the bartender, the guy spoke up again, this time laying a hand on your arm as he did so. "Come on, Honey, you can tell me. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener. I've had my shoulders wet once or twice. I've got something else I'd love for you to get wet too."

The crudeness wasn't lost on you, and the thought of doing anything with this guy made your nose crinkle in disgust. But before you could reply with anything, you felt the guy's grip get snatched off of you as another, larger hand slid its way around your waist.

"Somethin' I can help you with, bub?" Logan's voice rumbled from behind you, and it clearly rattled the other guy to be challenged by him. After all, Logan was 300 lbs of muscle and adamantium and had the mug of a mean bastard to go with it. Even if that mean bastard was ruggedly handsome and carved from the finest Canadian oak.

You could have defended yourself. You knew this easily, and you were certain Logan did too, though the intensity of his gaze whilst he stared down the other guy forced a needy sensation in your core, betraying any lingering sense of feminism you had.

"No, just talking to the lady here." The guy replied, as politely as he could muster up, despite the fact he was no doubt shitting his pants. "Botherin' her, more like." Logan scoffed. "That cologne of yours is vile, by the way. You should probably try and wear something that doesn't smell like shit next time you try and flirt with a lady. Especially one who's spoken for."

The guy stammered, tripping over himself in trying to respond, his eyes running from you, then back to Logan, lips flapping comically but with no sound coming out.

Logan took this opportunity to tug you away from the bar instead. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go have a talk." He snarled. "Logan, what are you doing? You need to focus on the meeting! Now is not the time for it!" Scott's voice down the communicator was cut off when Logan tore his out of his ear and yours as well (though he was uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked it from your ear).

He stuffed them both in his pocket, dragging you past the roulette table and the blackjack and into the men's bathroom. A single cubicle, with a lock on it that he immediately clicked shut the second that you were both in.

"What the Hell are you thinking?" You snap up at him, tearing your arm from his grip. Logan didn't reply instantly. His nostrils were flared, his beautiful mouth twisted in a vicious sneer and his whole body vibrating with the kind of energy that was more animal than human. His arms were tense, you could see the seams of his jacket nearly fraying at the effort, whilst those Hazel eyes of his burned into yours.

"I'm thinkin' about how furious I am." He snarled in reply, after a moment to think. "I'm thinkin' about how idiotic you are for even strikin' up a conversation with that guy in the damn first place. I'm thinkin'…" One tantalising step forward, and all of a sudden you were braced against the tiled wall. Thankfully the casino was clean, or at least looked it. Logan loomed over you, his breath heavy and stuttering, and for a moment you wondered if he had finally snapped and was going to drive those claws of his into your chest and finally be done with it. "I'm thinkin'… Dammit, that dress is good on you."

You blink, a few times as you look up at him, trying to confirm that you'd heard him correctly, that his eyes truly were raking down your body like that and not that you'd just dreamed it.

"Logan-" "Shut up." He snapped, cutting you off. "Just… shut up. Stop talking. God, you're so gorgeous and then you start talkin'!"

Despite your indignation, you didn't get a chance to reply. In moments he had gripped at your ass, squeezing full handfuls and lifting you from the ground, only to move you, seating you along the counter where the sink was, his eyes burning into yours all the while. He dropped you onto the counter with a thud, and in moments he was ruching up the fabric of your dress, the fabric slipping upwards from your ankles up to your mid-thigh. Hastily, you tried to tug it back down but he was far stronger, and it was a better option to have the dress lifted than torn, especially considering you'd both need to head back out to the floor. Now that there was a little give, he burrowed his strong thigh between your own, until his body was firmly planted between your knees.

"God, what am I doing?" He groaned, hanging his head, his hands planted on either side of your hips, trapping you in place. "You don't want this. You hate me as much as I can't stand you. But… I can't take this anymore. The… the tension, the burning, the need. The ache." His voice trembled as he spoke, his shoulders jerking with his difficult breaths.

As if all at once, you seemed to realise his intention here. He wanted you. Needed you. In a way almost primal and carnal, that seemed completely separate to the mission, or their usual distaste of one another.

A searing hot coil tightened in your gut, pulsating with desperation you didn't know you had in you. It had been a while, that much was for certain. 6 months? A year? Longer? Too long, by all measures. Too long since you'd shared your body with someone so vulnerably, so intimately.

And God, how you longed to share it with Logan.

"Shove me away." He demanded. "Shove me away. Smack me. Tell me I'm a brute and a bastard and you don't wanna fuck me. Do it. Because if you don't, I'm not stopping, mission be damned."

Instead, disobedient to his pleading, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling every ridge and valley even through his tuxedo. There were no words shared, no refusals or acceptances. Only a gentle touch between the fiercest of enemies.

His eyes flared, bright and incensed, and in moments he had shrugged off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly backwards, not caring where it landed, before dropping to his knees.

His hands planted themselves defiantly on your inner thighs, holding them open as he brought his face towards your core, whilst your needy fingers kept your skirt bunched up and out of his way. Logan didn't even bother to pull your panties aside, at first. He pressed chaste kisses at first to the seam of your womanhood, feeling how it slicked at his attention, enjoying the way you reacted to his attention, the way the scent of your desire seemed to permeate the air around him from every angle. He hummed into his kisses as well, the vibration only making that coil in your gut tighter. At the attempts to close your thighs, he only snarled, his grip getting firmer as he held them apart, shooting a glare up at you as if to warn you that if you didn't stop, he wouldn't keep going.

You relaxed your thighs, and he quickly crooked a finger around the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side, taking in the sight of you with a cocked, eager eyebrow.

"You got a pretty pussy, sweetheart. She's a needy thing, huh?" He teased, before toying with his thumb, running along the seam a moment before holding you open, just in time for him to dive in again.

He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you like a hound starved for days on end would lap at the sweetest, most delicious meal. Quickly, he shrugged your thighs onto his shoulders, holding you against his face, as he slung one arm around you, holding your thigh in place on him and sliding his hand over the plane of your hip before he began to rub at your swollen clit, whilst his tongue diverted his focus to your weeping honeypot.

There couldn't be a finer sight anywhere in the world. You didn't care you were in a casino bathroom, or that you were meant to be working tonight on an important mission. Life or death meant jack shit compared to the sight of Logan kneeling between your legs and devouring you. He even seemed to hum in delight as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, nearly drowning him in your need.

He pulled back a moment later, strings of your desire still connecting you to his lips, before he swiped them away, licking them from his fingers.

At your whine, he only scoffed. "You don't finish anywhere but on my cock. You understand me?" He grumbled, standing up again, and unfastening his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall in a puddle on the floor in one swift, easy movement. When you glanced down, you could see he was already at full mast. Larger, thicker, veinier than any you had ever had before. It throbbed in his hand, with 3 beads of precum already leaking down his shaft. He palmed himself a moment, letting out a groan, holding his head in line with your clit as he rocked back and forth, gently. Just enough to soak himself in you.

"Mmm… I don't think you're wet enough." He grumbled, a smirk on his face. You were dripping on the counter, you could feel that already, so you knew he was lying, leading up to something. "So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, locking your gaze with his own.

He pumps his fist along his cock still as he grins back at you, not averting his gaze as he spat, a thick glob of saliva landing right where his cock met your cunt. He smeared it on himself, on you - on where you both would soon become one - and he chuckled. "I always wanted to spit on you. Never thought you'd get so red from it." "I'm not red from tha-" You went to protest, but before you could finish, he had bucked, his entirety sheathed inside of you in one agonisingly ecstatic movement. All of him was buried in your warmth, and your walls shuddered around him. You didn't know which one of you had let out that moan - but you had a sneaky feeling it was both of you.

Your hand gripped his shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, seeking to anchor yourself however you could, feeling how your body pulsated around him, acclimatising to his invasion. "Fuck," He cursed, resting his forehead on your shoulder, forcing himself to remain in place, not moving until you'd gotten used to him. "What, has it been so long since you've had a dick you re-virginised? You're so tight…" He ground his hips against your own, not yet pulling out, but making sure to give you that friction that brought another moan from your lips. "This pretty pussy's been needing a stretch. Don't worry, Princess, I'll give her a workout."

With that, he pulled back, each inch that he rescinded leaving you clenching down on nothing, feeling desperate without him. Against your will, you whined, tangling your fist further in the fabric of his shirt, urging him back again. Even after pulling out so slowly, he bucked in fast, torturous and barbaric in his speed. He bucked so hard that your entire body jolted with the collision between you, but he pulled back as if he wanted to watch you crying at the loss of him.

"What's the matter, Princess? You look about ready to sob." He mocked, before grunting as he thrust back in, just as hard, and you cried out in your mixed delight and pleasure. "You're the worst," You retort, through gritted teeth, trying to maintain your brain function even as every slight movement of his cock penetrating you seemed to make you want to melt into him, drooling and moaning like a moron who knew nothing other than taking Logan's cock. "Am I?" He purred in return, grinding his teeth as he let out three sharp thrusts in succession, robbing you of your breath as you forced your nails into his chest, drawing a groan of animalistic delight from him.

"Sounds to me like you're 'boutta cum, Princess. If I'm the worst… maybe I'll just stop." "No!" God, your voice sounded so breathy as it echoed back around the room, and Logan lit up at the sound. "No?" He parrotted, lips pursed and eyes amused, before he tutted. "No what? Use your words." "No, don't stop." "You don't want me to stop. 'cause I'm not the worst, right?" "N-not the worst…" You repeated. "Not the worst. Good girl, Princess. I'm the man who's 'boutta make you cum all over my cock, ain't I? I'm the best I am at what I do. And what I do is fucking girls like you 'til you're stupid. Right?"

By now your tongue had gone numb. You couldn't form a word in your mind, let alone in your throat or mouth. Instead, all that passed your lips were gasps and mewls and needy moans, as you forced yourself to nod, trying to get your point across.

It seemed Logan was too far gone as well, as he grinned down at you, feral and angry and delighted.

He leaned in, pressing heated, feverish kisses all over your neck, up and along the column of your throat before his forehead rested on yours.

"Fuck, Princess. I'm not gonna last much longer…" He panted out, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, no longer taunting you, and instead chasing his peak. His free hand reached down as well, his fingers splayed over your womb whilst his thumb played with your red, sensitive clit, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Where'd you want it?" Logan snarled. "Tell me, and fast before I… ngh." He bucked, his movements sloppy and desperate. You longed for his warmth inside of you. To feel him spill and buck and ride out his afterglow whilst still nestled in your perfect pussy. To watch the look on his face as he pulled out and saw his own seed oozing from you. "Inside," You demand, the only full word you've managed in a long while. "P…please… inside. Inside." "Wish is my command, darlin'." He grunted out.

His lips crashed against your own, tasking of whiskey and pine and your own sweet nectar, the sensation of receiving a kiss from Logan so tender and desperate finally being enough to tip you over that final cliff.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer, as your pussy fluttered all around him, milking him for all he was worth, as a wave of white-hot euphoria rolled over your mind. Your moans were swallowed by Logan's mouth, as he kept kissing you, letting his own moans and grunts escape as well, the shared sounds of your pleasure rumbling in the caverns of your mouths. "Just like that." He rumbled, between open mouth kisses, murmuring into the plush flesh of your lips. "Cum all over me baby. Make my fuckin' day."

You barely even felt the sensation you'd so longed for as Logan buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling every drop of his cum inside of you, whilst you squeezed every ounce he was worth, the pair of you riding out your orgasms at once.

It took a few seconds for you to catch your breath. Both of you had heaving chests and red faces. Logan pulled free from your lips, though not before offering one teasing, apologetic lip to the seam of your mouth, as though to apologise for kissing so hard and leaving you swollen.

You slid an arm around his shoulders, a silent plea not to pull away, as you pulled him in for one more kiss.

But he froze halfway, and glanced down at his trousers, his eyes growing wide and his jaw tensing.

"Logan? What's the matter?" You ask, leaning forward and glancing down as well, brow furrowed. "I didn't mute the comms." He replied, bluntly.

Didn't mute the comms. The comms that had been in his pocket, and would have picked up their activities.

"Get back to the blackbird, you two. Now. Before you're kicked out of the casino." Scott's voice, tinny and furious, escaped the two comms, even from where they were buried in Logan's discarded trousers. "And don't think for a moment you're not going to be punished for this."

Logan chuckled, reaching down to fasten his trousers back on, returning his gaze to you. "I dunno about you, Princess… but I don't care if I get punished. We're doing that again on the way back. C'mon."

You slid your panties and your dress back into place, stood from the counter and took his hand, heading out of the casino with him, already brimming with excitement for round two - this time with muted comms.

I hope you enjoyed and hope I did this justice - I've not really written enemies to lovers before so this was super fun <3 Feedback is super appreciated so please let me know if you enjoyed!! If you're interested, my requests are open so please feel free to send me any questions, ideas or headcanons you'd like me to explore (please just make sure you've read my pinned post first) TYSM for reading and hope you enjoy <3

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies goes with the Vault Hunters to a wedding, where she meets and old...acquaintance.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Guns, Love, and Tentacles Part 1

“...then loop it down and pull it tight. There.”

“Yeah...I don’t think this is right.”

Skies looks down at the tie tied into a twisted knot around her neck.

“Hm, well, it worked for me,” Rhys says from her ECHO communicator. “I guess it’s easier to do than to explain.”

“I’ll just get Moxxi to tie it for me,” Skies decides as she undoes the knot. “She must know how to tie a tie.”

“You’re pretty excited about this whole thing,” he comments.

“Of course!” she cheers, “it’s the first time I’ve ever been invited to a wedding, and I’m not just crashing it to kill the bride or groom for a scorned ex. I’m actually friends with both grooms!”

Rhys chuckles. “Well, go enjoy yourself. And call me when it’s over.” “Talk later,” Skies chimes before cancelling the call. Then she grabs her gun holster with her Jakobs pistol- Golden Horizons, gifted to her by Wainwright- and her trench coat and leaves the Sky Rider. She steps out into the cargo hold of Sanctuary III and heads up the stairs.

She makes her way up to Moxxxi’s, where Moxxi and Timothy are sitting at the bar, chatting. They both look up as she enters.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” Timothy remarks.

Skies giggles as she spins, showing off her simple two-piece black suit. “It’s my first actual wedding. I gotta dress up.”

“You look lovely, sugar,” Moxxi agrees.

“Thanks, Mox,” she replies and motions to her loose tie. “Could you tie this for me?”

Moxxi clears her throat and points to her tip jar. Skies rolls her eyes and drops in a couple hundreds. “Nothing for free, huh.”

“I am a business woman,” Moxxi replies and ties Skies’ tie. As she finishes, the ship suddenly lurches.

“I think we’re here,” Skies says.

“What’s the planet again?” Timothy asks.

“Xylourgos,” she replies, “some kind of frozen wasteland on the edge of the galaxy. Sounds like fun.”

“Well, try not to get into too much trouble.”

“It’s Wainwright and Hammerlock’s wedding,” Skies points out, “it’ll be impossible not to.”

She waves as she leaves the bar and heads back down to the cargo hold. Moze, Zane, Amara, and FL4K are waiting for her at the drop ship.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for the party,” Moze points out.

“It’s always good to be fashionably late,” Skies retorts.

They climb into the drop ship and Ellie sends it off to the dark planet below. They break through the atmosphere and crash onto snow covered rocks in the middle of an icy tundra.

“Ugh, god,” Skies groans as they tumble out of the wreckage. “I don’t know why we just don’t take my ship.”

“This the place?” Zane questions.

“We’re outside town, I think,” Amara replies.

“It’s quiet,” FL4K observes.

“Hang on, I’ll try calling them,” Skies says and grabs her communicator. “Hammerlock? Wainwright? We’ve landed outside town but there’s no party. Hello?” There’s no answer. “Huh. No signal maybe? Guess we’re walking.”

They pass through an icy cavern onto a snowy path. As they walk along, cold wind blows around them and animalistic howling can be heard echoing in the distance.

“Good thing I brought my coat,” Skies remarks as she tightens it around her.

They continue on until they reach a wide tundra and in the distance, rising against the dim blue sky, is a giant monster corpse the size of a mountain.

“Yowza, look at the size of that thing!” Skies exclaims.

“I hope it’s dead,” Amara adds, “unless I get to kill it, in which case I hope it’s not.”

“I don’t know what it is, and I don’t like looking at it,” Zane remarks.

“What manner of hunter took it down?” FL4K muses.

“This is one helluva wedding destination,” Moze comments.

They continue through the tundra when they see a shuttle plummet from the sky just ahead and a distress call rings through all of their ECHOs. “Crap, crap, crap, craaap! Hold together, dammit!”

“Hey...I know that voice...” Skies muses.

“Hey! Who’s out there?!” the voice continues, “get away from my pod! Do NOT mess with me- I am a licensed wedding planner! I have got the certificate from the ECHOnet course right here!”

“Wedding planner?” FL4K questions.

“Come on!” Skies orders and they hurry through the tundra to the crashed ship. When they get there, they find someone fighting off a hoard of crazed attackers.

“They’re under attack!” Moze exclaims as they ready their weapons.

“Oh, good, crazed lunatics,” Skies remarks, “and me with only one pistol.”

“You only brought one pistol?” Zane questions.

“It didn’t feel appropriate to bring a Hyperion pistol and an Atlas assault rifle to a Jakobs wedding,” she replies, “but, come on, you guys know me. All I need is one pistol.”

She draws her gun and immediately leaps into action. The blade extends from her robot fist as she punches an enemy in the stomach then shoots him through the temple. A couple of goons come up from behind her, but she spins and slices their necks with her forearm blade. The Vault Hunters split up around her, firing at the other attackers.

As the crowd starts to thin down, Skies tackles a guy to the ground, driving her fist blade through his skull while shooting a couple others. She turns around to look for more and comes face-to-face with a big, killer robot.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, putting up her hands as it glares at her with its burning red eye. The Vault Hunters immediately take aim. “Hold, guys!” she demands.

“Deathtrap, heel!”

Skies lowers her hands as the robot backs off next to its master. “I knew I recognized that voice...”

She stares with astonishment at the familiar young girl with a robot arm- now a young woman. “Gaige...”

[petitprincess1]

do u have any striker x moxxie headcanons or ideas or anything? im desperate for content of those two

YoU kNoW i dO!!!!

You'd think Moxxie would be like those "uke" boys with gay relationships where he's all docile and submissive. Fuck that! Boi would be all sassy and leaving claw/bite marks in the middle of sex, even when completely winded.

Striker is probably shocked at Moxxie's libido, but with someone as energetic as Millie, he can easily keep up.

They don't have soft pillow talks after. They just kinda speak passive-aggressively to one another cause they're dorks.

Millie knows about the affair (she knows she didn't leave marks that shallow) and just teases Moxxie about it.

"Ya like Striker, don'cha hon~?" "Don't! Speak his name in front of me, Millie..."

The only time those two ever really get along is probably if they were to ever get attacked and they team up to kick some ass.

Of course that leads to messy, bloody makeouts.

Moxxie did attempt to wear one of Striker's shirts, since his got shredded. However, before he could even take one step out the door, you better believe Striker dragged him back for another round.

Moxxie hates that they go to motels, so he always tries to disinfect SOMETHING before anything happens.

Striker might be lowkey possessive, doesn't help that Moxxie constantly tells him he doesn't belong to him.

Moxxie justifies this by saying he's trying to distract Striker from going after Stolas. ...He's kinda right.

Blitzo has asked for sex tapes X3

That's all I got for right now.

[explodinglobsters]

✨Rules : Answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you'd like to know better

Thanks to @princess-rose and @smouldered for tagging me, you pretty gems!

Sign : Scorpio

Height : 6'1

Last thing googled : cm to foot conversion 😃

Favorite music artists : R.H.C.P. , Rise against, Oddisee, Gang starr

Last TV show watched : full metal alchemist ( yes I am that late ) , Luther

What am I wearing now : a towel bc I just showered ☺

When did I create my blog : November 2016

What do I post about : Myself and my girlfriend..some of the fun we have, absolute babes - because you all are! Some of my kinks and even though it should probably be more; body positivity, feminism, boy positivity. Some flowers now and then. @alwayssad666 I will reblog her content forever 😂😙

Do I have other blogs : Nope

Do I get asks regularly: I love them so much but not really!

Why did I choose my URL: it’s my old gamer tag, and it’s not used on most sites :)

Pokemon team : RED (yellow was the last one I played though)

Favorite colours : the colour of @sani-m3 ‘s hair, black and dark greens

Average hours of sleep : 5-7

Favorite character : Zorro from one piece, mads mikkelsen as hanibal, the master chief, tiny Tina and moxxxi from borderlands, Link, John wick was bad ass…too many I guess..oh and the bitch from apartment 23

Dream job: run my own shop with tailor made menswear. Or flowers.

I tag : @katevictoriax @woozydroozy @bloodylittlelover @dyn-o-mite @sani-m3 @useme-sir @buttshuffles @dog-earedpage

I can’t think of 20 lel

[ghostsstolemymoxie]

Do you have any nsfw/sfw hcs for Logan (James howlett)

I absolutely do! Though they're a little bit hodge-podge IMO I do have some HCs for him that I think align pretty well with comic and movie canon. HCs below are for Fem!Readers but I may potentially do one for Masc!Readers if I figure any new ones out.

SFW HCs first

↣ Logan absolutely goes insane when you play with his hair. Half because he gets annoyed when people mess up the style of it considering how it's a staple of his whole Wolverine-ness, but half because the sensation is comforting in a way he didn't expect. When he's drowsy and half-asleep or has woken up from a particularly bad nightmare, all you need to do is card your fingers through his hair, and as long as he's comfortable with you, he'll fall asleep right then and there.

↣ Logan isn't much of a cuddle bug, so he's not as likely to curl up and be the big spoon while you're sleeping. Mostly because he doesn't want to accidentally impale you if he wakes up from a nightmare and doesn't quite realise his surroundings. During the day though? The man will behave as if he is touch starved. Holding your hand or wrist to lead you somewhere, or an arm around your waist or his hand just tucked into your butt pocket whilst you're stood talking. Anything so that he can touch you and feel that you're there. On occasion, if you're particularly focused on something and he thinks he can get away with it, he'll just run his fingers up and down the curve of your spine, just to feel the warmth of you.

↣ This one is very X-men Evolutions coded but nobody touches the Harley. As far as he's concerned, touching the Harley means forfeiting the offending limb - especially if she gets scuffed, scratched, smeared or fingerprinted. The only exception is you, of course, since he trusts you to respect his belongings. He will still fuss over the bike though, and will offer a scowl and a grunt if you leave a fingerprint on her (though he'll forgive you as long as he gets to take a picture of you on the bike, just to keep in his wallet, of his two favourite ladies).

For the NSFW HCs

↣ Like most of Tumblr, I wholeheartedly believe that Logan eats for his pleasure. Logan's women don't go to bed dissatisfied, even if it means his jaw aches for the next three days. He's a firm believer in "Round one is for me, round two is for you" so even if he's quick off the mark first round (which he can't always help, depending on how you've been teasing him all day or just how much he's fucking missed you) you can bet that the second round will be all about you. If he's in a particularly evil mood, he'll make round two last for hours before even letting you finish, just long enough for him to have worked up an appetite of his own again and get stuck in for round three. For him, it's a revolutionary concept to be interested in the pleasure of his woman. After all, he was raised in the 1800s and grew up through the late 19th Century to the early 20th Century, where the pleasure of a lady wasn't always first and foremost. Despite appearances and how he may act sometimes, he does have a gentlemanly side to him, even if that side manifests in burying his tongue so deep in your cunt you can barely keep from screaming the walls down.

↣ Logan also absolutely gets off on taunting you about the difference in age between you both. Whether it's 2000s movie Logan who looks 30 or 2017 Logan who looks well into his 60s, both of them quite enjoy the knowledge that despite appearances, he's your goddamn elder, and you're going to respect him. That means obedience, teasing, and a lot of soft domming from 'your old man'. He'll call you 'kid' or 'bub' or 'young lady' when he's trying to reprimand you, and will revel in you calling him 'Daddy', 'Old man' or 'Sir', even if he feigns offence at first. He'll mock that "Kids like you don't fuck like we did in my day", "The only damn good thing about living this long is knowing how to make pretty young things like you squirm" or his favourite little quip "C'mon, I need a little more than an ankle flash these days, Princess" when you attempt to seduce him coyly, before finally offering a wolfish smile and a beckon with a crooked finger when you finally show him something that would be considered criminally lewd in his day.

So, yeah! Hopefully that was what you were looking for, and if you have any other questions or requests, please feel free to ask away (as long as you've read my pinned post <3 Divider credit @cafekitsune

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 4

Skies and Timothy spend the day at Sanctuary.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 3

           It’s a long drive from Old Haven to Sanctuary, but it’s a good one. Skies sticks her head out of the technical, letting the wind blow through her long, messy brown hair as they drive through the Arid Nexus. When they reach the highway connecting to the Eridium Blight, Timothy makes her sit back down.

           Things have quieted down recently in these parts. Since Jack’s death and the fall of Helios, most Hyperion facilities in Pandora have shut down because nobody cares enough to keep them up anymore. So with no turrets, the only threats in the Eridium Blight are swooping rakks and the slag ash in the air- really not much different from anywhere else on Pandora.

           Skies is in a far better mood by the time they reach the Dust, as she and Timothy dance to the music playing over the radio. The desert sun beats down on them as they tear through the sand, not a care in the world.

           They reach the Highlands within a couple hours and soon Overlook, the only connection to the flying city of Sanctuary. Timothy parks the car and they head through the quiet town to the fast travel station. One by one, they teleport to the city.

           Timothy and Skies exit Pierce Station, chatting happily, but they’re quickly cut off when they bump into the Vault Hunters: Maya, Axton, Salvador, Zer0, Krieg, and Gaige.

           “Ugh, great,” Axton says with visible disgust.

           “Hi, Zer0,” Skies waves happily then adds with disdain, “and not Zer0s.”

           “Hi, Skies,” Zer0 chimes.

           “What are you guys doing here?” Gaige asks accusingly.

           “Just here to chill at Moxxxi’s,” she replies, “play some slots, maybe eat some pizza- or at least what Moxxi calls pizza. I’m pretty sure the crust is cardboard. But hey, it’s edible.”

           “Alright,” Maya grunts suspiciously, “just stay out of trouble; and away from the Vault Key.”

           “Like we care about your damn Vaults,” Skies snorts.

           “Yeah, get over yourselves,” Timothy scoffs, rolling his eyes. Skies laughs as the two of them slip past the group and head to Moxxxi’s.

           “Heya, Moxx,” Skies chimes as they sit at the bar and sticks a wad of cash into her tip jar. “Tell me something good.”

           Moxxi smirks with amusement. “You’re both a lot cuter now that you have a bunch of cash to flash around.”

           Timothy chokes on his spit, turning away as he coughs into his fist. Skies grins at him then faces Moxxi. “Two drinks and pizza please.”

           “Coming up,” she replies.

           Skies and Timothy spend the afternoon lazing about at the bar, nursing their drinks and munching on the pizza. The lounge is about as busy as usual, with Sanctuary citizens relaxing in the booths, playing the slot machines, or dancing to the music.

           Skies gazes at Timothy for a while, almost mesmerised. He notices and grins, “what?”

           “Your hair is fascinating,” she comments.

           “Oh, yeah, I know,” he nods as he smooths back his messy Handsome Jack coif. “It always stays in this like general shape. It doesn’t seem to grow and I can’t cut it.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah. Did you know he had a soul patch?”

           “Yeah, I’ve seen old pictures.”

             “Well, it took me forever to get rid of it,” Timothy explains as he rubs his chin. “Lots of struggling with a knife. Almost took my lip off.”

           “I could try cutting your hair for you,” Skies suggests as she draws her large machete.

           “Ah, no thanks,” he replies nervously. “I don’t wanna risk getting scalped.”

           They both laugh, but they’re cut off by a loud, slurred voice. “I tol’ you- I’m tha king of darts!”

           Skies scoffs with disgust as she glares at the drunk man by the darts board. He’s been bragging about his skill and forcing people into dart games for the last hour.            “This asshole won’t shut up.”      

           “He’s got some skill,” Timothy comments, “but I bet if he went up against someone who’s a trained shot, he wouldn’t be so cocky.”

           “Yeah,” she grins and stands up. “I’ma knock him down a peg.”

           “Hey, douche canoe,” she says as she walks up to him. “I’ll face you in darts. But if I win, you gotta leave.”

           The man snorts, “no way. Wouldn’t be fair. You’re like part robot.”

           “Okay, alright, fair enough,” Skies nods agreeably and looks around. She spots someone passed out in a nearby booth, wearing a scarf. After swiping it and ripping it in half, she uses one piece to cover her robotic eye and gestures to Timothy with the other. “Tim, tie my arm behind my back, would ya?”

           Timothy obliges, smiling with amusement as he ties back her robot arm. Then Skies faces the darts man. “Enough of a handicap?”

           The man nods, grinning. “Alright. Le’s play.”

           “Okay, you go first.”

           He picks up his three darts and carefully throws them. Despite being wasted, each one gets fairly close to the bullseye.

           “Beat that, lil’ lady,” he purrs.

           Skies picks up all three of her darts with her left hand. Moving them dextrously between her fingers, she throws them one at a time. The first one hits dead center; the second one lodges in right next to it.

           Skies pauses for a second with the third, taking a deep breath, then whips it. It rockets through the air, cracking the board as it hits the bullseye and knocking all of the other darts to the floor.

           “Yeah!” Timothy cheers while the rest of the onlookers are speechless.

           “Whoa,” the man croaks.

           Skies grins at him, fist resting on her hip. “Beat ya. Now you gotta leave.”

           He stares at her, stunned for a second, then scoffs. “Fine, whatever. Who needs this stupid bar anyway.”

           “Hey, don’t take it out on Moxxxi’s,” Skies scolds as he stumbles by. “It’s a lovely bar…kind of.”

           After untying her arm and eye, Skies and Timothy sit back down at the bar, where Moxxi gives them two more drinks.

           “On the house,” she says, “for that display.”

           “Aw, you’re a treasure, Moxx,” Skies comments. She and Timothy cheers and continue drinking.

           With all of Skies’ troubles washed away by drink, pizza, and chill times, the day seems to be wrapping up into a good one. Then a sudden shudder runs through the ground, making everyone stumble.

           “What was that?” Timothy asks worriedly.

           “Ah, don’t worry about it,” Moxxi replies, “probably just the city’s engines. This place ain’t exactly the safest flying city.”

           Everyone starts to settle back down when screaming erupts outside.

           “There are ships!” somebody shouts as civilians are seen scattering around.

           “Ships?” Skies questions and she and Timothy quickly stand up and look outside. They catch a glimpse of two large ships lowering past the buildings into the town square.

           Before they are able to check it out, they hear a mass of rapid footsteps and turn to see a group of armed soldiers coming into the bar’s front entrance. Civilians start screaming as they point their guns around.

           “What the hell is this?” Moxxi barks.

           None of the soldiers respond, but she’s answered by Lilith’s voice playing over an intercom speaker.

           “This is Lilith. Sanctuary is under attack. All civilians, evacuate the city immediately. Crimson Raiders, to me!”

           “Shit,” Skies sighs and draws her pistol.