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SIGHS. i gotta go to bed. BUT i have thursday and friday off so hollaaaaa

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Nick Robles blessing us with his art

Nick Robles knows best.

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Amazing art by Poppezinga at fur affinity

**do not remove credit

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TJ vc: DAD PUT SOME PANTS ON

"i am just wearing a bathing suit, i do not see the problem."

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remi vc: how handsome, how handsome!

"i know i am difficult to resist, liebling. it's okay to give in to your ... more carnal desires."

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you are all welcome for that necessary reblog.

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“And I'm a one girl REVOLUTION!”

Independent mutuals only blog for Shadowcat from X-men based on 616 and potentially MCU along with personal head canons. Written by Noon.

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❝ my life is my reputation. it is all i have. ❞ / wanda ( i saw the invite to send memes cross my dash and boy howdy did i pounce )

"wanda," he says her name as soft as prayer, perhaps because in it's way saying her name feels like worship sometimes. it is difficult for him to parse when this became something for him, that he might speak her name and feel a holy thing welling up inside of him, just from acknowledging her existence.

"it is all any of us have, and it is all i have, but it is yours if you will have it. i do not care what anyone says."

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it's so brief that he hardly gets enough to make any sort of judgement on the matter yet. in fact, it's so brief that though it had been slowly done, not a peck and run, it was still not slow enough to have been sufficient for kurt.

the apologies were not needed, but he would still think about how quickly this little trick worked on him even if it was going to turn into... well.

"stop apologizing," he commands, and then he says it again with his whole body, pressing the length of torso against matt to still his wriggling body and slanting his mouth over matt's babbling lips.

he's taking a second one, and he isn't sorry at all. slow and deep, the kind where he urges matt to give him more to taste with a prod of the tip of his tongue, kurt decides the first had been good.

but the second? that was better.

It was supposed to be a distraction to get the higher ground. A small ruse between friends. There were times when they were borderline flirting with each other. At times, Matthew could feel Kurt's lingering gaze on him.

Kurt leaned in and suddenly Matt couldn't help himself, closing the small tiny left between them to press their lips together, drawn to him like a moth to the flame. It was hesitant and slow but enjoyable all the same.

There was a moment’s pause before his eyes flew open with the realization of what he was doing, what he had assumed, and Matt played back.

"I'm sorry! I-I shouldn't have...I'm sorry." The apologies couldn't out fast enough as the vigilante began to squirm his way out from underneath Kurt, worried how much he had crossed the line.

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there's an almost comically timed turn, quick and would-be-wobbly but he catches himself before it becomes something to really have a laugh at. it's not the voice that does it, it's the touch.

he's just thankful for the suit it's self being real, but there is no telling how much of the energy bleed of the inducer a normal person can feel, even with a small touch such as that friendly slap on the back.

and kurt doesn't even have time to worry about that either, because as soon as he's thinking such a thing there comes a brand new thought that has his eyes widening and mouth dropping open stupidly.

oh. it's-

"bruce wayne?" he questions, but he realizes that he's just parroted back that name in response to a question about his name and oh gott-

"i mean! i'm not.. you are, er, that is to say-"

a voice in his head is the soothing balm his frayed nerves desperately need just then. jean's laughter is harmless, sweet even.

[relax, kurt, take a breath. you live in a mansion yourself now. he's not the only fat cat in the room, even if he is bruce wayne.]

he takes a breath, sobering his mild panic into something more relaxed and a little apologetic.

"es tut mir leid, Herr Wayne," he avoids the hand by deciding to take a more formal bow, as if he were greeting a royal dignitary and not a billionaire, a very well known billionaire.

"i am kurt wagner. i assure you, they would never laugh at you. i, however, am afraid i often wear my heart on my sleeve and can not always be sure i am not outwardly expressing my thoughts in a... peculiarly made face."

kurt would have skated over the comment about being handsome, easily forgotten in his brief anxious response, if not for jean questioning it in his head.

[did he just call you handsome??]

"...ah..er... danke. i mean for the... " his heart feels like a hummingbird under his ribs, he needs a drink. "nevermind."

The fear mongering is subtle but apparent if you’re keen enough to listen. The optics are still being weighed in. The citizens are murmuring, unsure what it is exactly they fear. Mutants or crazy people ; all seem to be of equal threat in Gotham when you really look at it from a plain view but both have been around Gotham far longer than some of the politicians trying to safeguard the city from anything different and unfamiliar. 

And, maybe, he’s too used to clowns to take any of them seriously. 

GOTHAM knows who and what to fear. 

But it’s thoughts ruminating only in the confines of his own skull. The event is filled from the rich to the powerful. He’d spotted Jim somewhere before he’d sought out his little refuge. There were other distractions as well as attractions. A gorgeous woman with white hair and a black dress and the Mayor trying to weigh in the pros and cons of one of the new laws a budding public lawyer is trying to lobby that Bruce himself couldn’t be certain yet is in favor of Gotham’s citizen’s best interest or just to further support the fear they wish to instill in them. 

A city afraid of each other means its docile. 

And a docile city means a people easily duped for profit or self-benefit. 

His eyes continued to swept in steady silence. Catching faces and moving lips, taking in every bit of useful information as the computer captured faces and names and words that could prove useful later. Only stopping when a man seems to prove unidentifiable despite having a face that one could, objectively of course, consider handsome and memorable. 

[ ₁ ] Curious. 

The severity in his features fades for a smile and a laugh. Kind. Amused. Tender. “ If they’re laughing at you, whatever luck do I have with them, hm? “ He retorted, smiling still and clapping him amiably on the back. “ Bruce. Bruce Wayne. “ Hand stretched forward. “ Got a name with that handsome face? “

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Jonathan Bailey on the set of 'Wicked' as Fiyero Tigelaar [x]

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of course she knows. his brain feels like mush, it's no wonder he can't recall every face that has crossed his path at this institute. embarrassment creeps up his spine, shame slips arms around his shoulders. he feels stupid and dips his head slightly to avoid showing his expression.

he's too easy a read right now and he knows it. usually he slips through expressions with ease, hides his pain with a toothy grin and showman's confidence.

right now he hasn't the energy.

"Ach, sorry, I forgot, it was all a blur..." he lifts his chin to catch her gaze just as she steals a glance his way. her eyes are lovely, dark and wide.

"kitty? katzchen. that is what that means in german," he offers with a small smile. "would you be opposed to be called as much?"

"Of course I don't mind! I offered right?" Oh crumbs he was cute when he smiled too... Kitty had to wonder what cruel being out in the universe thought this was a funny game. How dare they send one of the most handsome men in existence to her home but make him entirely wrong to crush on. She returned the smile with a shining one of her own, before turning back to the fridge and hiding the look of sheer distress at this inappropriate attraction.

The fridge chilled her face as she scanned for the ingredients she needed to satisfy Kurt's request. Eggs were easy, everyone used them, but the turkey bacon eluded her. Kitty pursed her lips and bent at the waist to search the lower crisper drawers. It had to be hiding somewhere. "Ah ha! Success!" Kitty victoriously tossed the package on the counter, shut the fridge door with a bump of her hip, and turned on the stove burner.

"I know who you are, Kurt." She answered lightly, not turning away from cooking preparations. Gathering a bowl and cracking eggs to scramble. Maybe if Kitty could avoid looking at him she could be just a supportive team member. "It was just a bit....hectic when you and the little one arrived. Most of us just wanted to give you time to settle in" The young woman inwardly winced. Not very tactful. Geez, she was bungling this interaction. Kitty lay strips of bacon out in a frying pan before allowing herself a glance at the man again.

"I'm Katherine-Kate Pryde. Most people around here call me Kitty though. So you can too. You know, if you want." Could she just not stop rambling?

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I love them :(

Excalibur (1988) #4

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the demand drips with the unspoken pleading that kurt can not possibly resist. he is eager to comply, to give frenchie anything the man might ask of him just then.

he thinks he would die for this man. he would blot out stars and find ways to reach through time and space for this man.

the bedsheets crumple at their hips, slip low to the thighs and are soon tossed asunder by an impatient sweep of his tail. kurt's arousal is bobbing heavy between them, friction of his cock dragged against frenchie's burning like a newborn star in his gut.

kurt groans into another wet kiss, ruts upward again as his tail reaches up to the bedside table for a bottle of lube. there is a reluctance to pull away from the kisses but kurt does so and sits back on his haunches. this exposes the entwined pair, frenchie's legs wrapped around kurt's hips, their cocks achingly hard and hot to the touch.

he is soon stroking himself with a palm of lube, the slick of sticky precum smeared over the swollen head of his prick. they have been at this for a while now and he knows frenchie will be somewhat stretched, but it is still an incredibly tight fit when kurt presses the mushroomed tip to his lover's entrance.

"tell me again," he urges, barely pressing in against the ring of muscle. "tell me what you want."

frenchie could babble forever if he felt it'd get them anywhere. anything to talk around the point that he wanted to make. which was that kurt had somehow wormed underneath his ribs and took up residence in the hollow of his chest. some warm and homey thing. familiar, yet strange. frenchie could sink into the shape of him forever, he thought.

and wasn't that terrifying?

he'd had many lovers. frenchie often took the shape of who he thought people wanted him to be. and it never felt disingenuous. not until kurt. the very meat of him, his soul, the broken battered thing it was, laid out bare for soft lips and sharp teeth. frenchie had fucked and been fucked.

this felt different. like they were clinging desperately to something they were worried would slip between their fingers. easier, then, not to name it. to protect the crumpled wings of their hearts from the ache of it.

but that was what kurt was, wasn't it? hope. bright and burning and pushing through resistant walls and skin and settling into the very bones of him. that maybe this time it'd mean something. that maybe he could say it and it wouldn't feel like losing a battle. but not today.

maybe in german against a pointed ear with more feeling than he'd ever put into the saying of it, more honesty too. the words beat themselves against the back of his teeth. frenchie thinks he can feel them slip along their tongues and slide down kurt's throat. he hopes they take root in his chest until he's ready to say them.

so they can say it with their bodies instead. until that fear abates.

frenchie lets out a muffled moan that kurt can likely taste on his tongue, fingers gripping the back of his neck as he hooks a leg around kurt's hip to keep him close.

"fuck me, kurt." these three words take the place of the ones he wants to say. they sound just as pretty against the cavern of kurt's mouth, his pointy teeth, that searching tongue. frenchie's free hand grips at an ass cheek, hips seeking a little more friction with a lewd roll. "and i'll write that down too."

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"I am yours, mein herz."

For the rest of the evening he would not stray far from her. the idea they had earlier of sneaking off and being particularly horny on main just did not happen. it was exciting at the time but the moment passed and now he was just wanting to prove himself true to her.

that and he was certain if either of them drifted from the other they would be quickly cornered by someone wanting the full details. kurt wasn't in the mood to share, just as she said. this relationship was still somewhat new and he had no intention of letting others in quite so easily and fast.

they knew now, that was enough. perhaps he would talk to logan and remy over beers later, but for now...

he had her on his lap, the pair entertaining the few who decided to have a seat at that couch and chat.

and later?

later he would whisk her away as others began to depart and he would show her she was all he saw too, all he saw and thought about and wanted.

With each kiss, Kitty's frustration with her boyfriend crept further and further away from memory. Yeah, it was never easy to stay mad at Kurt for long. Maybe now that their less-than-well-kept secret relationship was broadly known, Kitty would feel on more solid ground than before. It was nice to have privacy, the entire aim of keeping the change in nature of what was between them quiet, but it left her uncertain.

"I don't want to chastise." Kitty sighed, leaning into Kurt's side as everyone went back to their conversations. Their "show" done for now. "I just know that I am so lucky to have you and sharing is not something I like doing." Perhaps a symptom of her only child upbringing when it came to most things. With Kurt though it was more than that. Kitty loved him and him alone, the very idea of another person now seemed ridiculous. Impossible.

She hugged and arm around him and rested her chin on Kurt's shoulder, keeping her volume to a whisper. "You are all I see." Not literally of course, he would know that. Kurt would understand she meant that for her there was nobody else but him.