#It really feels like yelling in to the void

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Hey, I wanna a a request from you.. about the worst wolverine!Logan (or the one in th x-men series) × mutant!fem!reader.

Reader may have powers like Wanda Maximoff or Jean Grey, but she's stronger. Anyway, there's my main plot; enemies to lovers, a HUGE breeding kink, possibly pregnancy(the a result of the kink hehe) Wade is the person who introduced them, and Reader's Wade' bestfriend. They saved the eart 10005 and they celebrated this at Wade's (and Blind Al's) house. Logan may be a complete jerk to the reader at first, and he may have attacked the reader in the scene in the Honda Odyssey, but then things change and so on. Can you write somethin' like that? If you do, thanks already!!! See ya, bub, take care of yourself.

I’VE HAD THIS IN NY DRAFTS FOREVER WHAT

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

I hope you enjoy this, babes ❤️

Ever since Wade came looking for him and took him to earth 10005, Logan’s life has been easier. There’s less hate towards him (which is an understatement, really; he’s now adored and it never ceases to surprise him) and it feels like, maybe, he’s redeemed himself from what he did. Maybe, his luck has finally started looking up.

But then there’s you. You infuriate him. Every time he sees you, he just wants to put his claws through your ribs. Although he did that already, in the Void, in that stupid fucking Odyssey. But it wasn’t nearly enough. God, he can’t stand you. The way you talk, the way you walk, the way you handle yourself. Sharing an apartment with Wade and Blind Al doesn’t bother him, he even stands Mary Puppins and her hairlessness. But you? You who likes to walk around at night in an oversized shirt and sweatshirts, who leaves the apartment smelling of your perfumes and shampoo after you shower, who he can hear as you fuck yourself with your fingers night after night.

His room is next to yours, he’s heard the way you work yourself up, how you eventually manage to get your pussy soaked enough to stuff your fingers into yourself. It pisses him off. And what he hates most is that his body reacts to it. Having been so hated in his world means that the last time he had sex was…Well. It’s been a while.

So he uses that as an excuse. Of course he doesn’t want you, his body just needs the sex, that’s all. He wants the sex, the release. Nothing more.

Maybe that’s why he does what he does.

On one of those nights where Blind Al is probably too out of it with her cocaine and Wade is probably at Vanessa’s, he hears you. The sweet sounds of your little whimpers and your heavy breathing, the obscene, slick noises that leave your cunt as you fuck her with your fingers. And Logan can’t take it. He just cannot take it anymore.

He barges into your room and delights in the way you react. Your wide eyes, the way you scramble to pull your fingers out of yourself and cover your body with the bed sheets.

“Logan!” you yell, cheeks blushing furiously. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What are you doing, bub? Touching yourself like you think I can’t hear, or like you hope I will.”

“You didn’t even fucking knock,” you continue, mortified.

He closes the door after himself, locks it just in case. “You’ve been at it for hours, bub. Hours. Is something wrong?”

Still flushed, you refuse to reply. You just clutch the bed sheets tighter.

“Can the poor little girl not come on her own?” Logan insists, smiling. When you fail to answer again, he insists, “Hm? Do you need help, girl?”

The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. The scent of your arousal thickens and he’s lost.

He’s quick to crawl onto the bed, prowling over you. He leans down, lips nudging at your neck as he gently pushes the bed sheets aside. “Let me see you, baby,” he says lowly, his eyes hungrily taking you in.

You’re so beautiful, prettier than he ever thought you’d be.

His already hard cock twitches in his pants, demanding attention, but he ignores it. For now.

“So pretty,” he says, mouthing at your jaw as his hand slips between your thighs. He touches the slickness spread over your skin, how warm your pussy is. Your folds are swollen, your clit throbbing. You’re probably raw from how long you’ve been touching yourself, so he’ll make sure to not overdo it. He’d hate to hurt you.

He slips a finger into you, groaning as he finds little resistance. “God, you’ve got yourself all stretched out already. All open for me.”

He leans back onto his knees, pushing your legs up to your chest and spreading them apart. He eyes your cunt, all needy and spread wide.

Growling quietly, he reaches for his pants. He pushes them down to his thighs, his eyes on you. “Let me put my cock in you, bub,” he says, almost begging.

You’re so out of it, dazed with the need to come and the lust that’s overcome you, that you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, yes.”

He wastes no time. Slowly, he nudges into you and fills you to the brim, the breath leaving his lungs. “Fuck, Logan.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grins, pleased with himself. He starts out slow, thrusting into you with care as he tests the waters. When your pussy releases its grip on him some, he thrusts harder, deeper.

You squeal, hands gripping onto his forearms as they hold your legs to your chest, keeping you nice and spread for him. Your nails dig into his skin, your eyes squeeze shut. He’s fucking you too hard for you to even say much. You just whimper, gasp, mewl.

It helps that you’ve been touching yourself for so long. You come around him with so much force that your body falls limp against the bed, your pussy spasming around his cock.

And it’s not fair to him. He hasn’t had sex in so long, how is he even supposed to hold back.

“Oh, baby. Oh, baby. I’m gonna fill you up, bub. Gonna put my child in you.”

You gasp at the words, whining lowly.

“Yeah? You want me to make you a momma? You can make me a daddy, hm, bub? Yeah?”

Your body writhes underneath his, your eyes wide as they meet his. “P-please, yes. Please.”

That’s all he needs. Not only did you just give him permission, but you’re begging him for it.

“Baby. I’m gonna fill you up, ‘m gonna fill this pretty pussy with all my come and you’re gonna keep it in you. You’re gonna give me a child, maybe two if you behave, hon.”

And he does. When he comes, rope after rope of thick, sticky come spurt into you. He fills you up until it’s dripping out of you, until he’s spent and he can’t come anymore.

You two stay there a while, trying to regain your breaths and let the high wash away. He kisses your forehead softly and lays own next to you, knowing he’s gonna be ready to go soon.

For the next few weeks, it’s more of the same. He fucks you again and again, filling you with his cum to the brim every time.

That’s why it’s no surprise to you when you miss your period. No surprise at all. In fact, you have no doubt that Logan is going to be thrilled. Now there’s only the matter of telling him…

---

Blog masterlist

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Christmas Eve // Quinn Hughes

be my date this Christmas Eve, be my holiday, my dream

summary: a heavy snowfall changes Quinn’s Christmas plans

warnings: light fluff, kissing and cuddling. Sorry it’s short! I just wanted to post something Christmas themed 🎄

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Quinn paced back and forth in front of the window, his phone glued to his ear. It was Christmas Eve and we were supposed to be heading to Michigan to spend the holidays with his family, but our plans might be changing despite our best efforts. Vancouver was covered in a heavy blanket of snow, not a single car was seen on the road all morning. Quinn gets off the phone, a small exhale left his lips as he walked towards me. I was buried under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate wrapped around my hands, doing anything I could to stay warm. Christmas music filled the room as I watched Quinn, he was stuck in his own head as he sat down beside me. My eyes never left his face, he bit his lower lip, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s deeply thinking.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Nothing is flying out of the airport right now, so it looks like we might be spending Christmas here.” His voice was low, almost like velvet. His face was hard to read, he looked upset our plans changed but also keen on us just staying in Vancouver. His hand traced small circles around my ankle as he locked his eyes with mine. They were the perfect shade of green, always adapting to whatever emotions he was feeling.

“I’m really sorry.” My heart sunk, I was looking forward to seeing his family again too. His parents welcomed me with open arms and his brothers treated me like I was the sister they never had. All I knew was that I had to help fill the void Quinn was going to feel not being with his family, and those were hard shoes to fill.

“It’s okay.” His words mumbled as he continued to chew on his lower lip. “I’m actually okay with us being here instead.”

Confused by his reaction, my head titled to the side, “what do you mean?”

“Every time we celebrate a holiday, or a birthday, I rarely get to have you alone.” His voice somehow lowered more, it was husky this time, making my stomach flutter. He guided my face towards him, pulling me into a delicate kiss. His lower lip, arguably my favourite part of his body above his belt envelopes my mouth so effortlessly.

We pulled apart briefly, my lips trailing his jaw this time, “that’s the whole point of the holidays though.”

“Yeah but…I’m tired of sharing you with everyone else.” he replied, brushing my hair out of my face so he could admire what was in front of him, “I love that my family adores you but I want you all to myself this Christmas Eve.”

He was right, every time we’ve gone out to celebrate something, we’re surrounded by our friends, his teammates or family. We should be so lucky that we have so many people that love us, but anytime we tried to have a moment alone we were interrupted by someone. Most birthday parties ended up with our friends sleeping on our couches, even our own bed and leaving us somehow separated. This might actually be our first time celebrating something together, with no interruptions.

“This is so tedious.”

I looked over at Quinn who was squinting as he iced some sugar cookies. He looked so adorable in the Christmas sweater I forced him to wear, I was gonna save it for tomorrow but now seemed like the perfect time to wear it. He looked like he belonged in a Christmas hallmark movie.

“You’re doing great.” I commented coming up behind him. He turned around and put some icing on my nose, making me grab some to return the favour.

“Let me taste test.” His tongue ran along my nose as he got rid of the icing. I went to do the same but he ran away from me.

“Quinn, get back here!” I yelled as he made his way into our room. He stopped, laughing like a little child until I pushed him onto the bed. I had him right where I wanted as I crawled over him, licking all the icing off his face. He squirmed but my thighs kept him locked into place. We fell into a fit of laughter, completely enjoying each others company.

“I made a call when you were in the shower.” Quinn said, breaking the silence as he propped himself up with his arm.

“About what?”

“I got the owner to let us have the rink so we can go skate before dinner…maybe pass the puck a little bit.”

“You’re so cute.” I mused, “always thinking about hockey.”

He licked his lips before his bright eyes looked into mine, “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise but I got you new skates I was hoping we could’ve used in Michigan. I guess our arena will have to do.”

A few hours later we were in the Canucks dressing room getting our skates on. Quinn rolled his eyes at me when I said I wanted to sit in JT Millers booth to put my skates on instead of his. He knew he was my favourite player besides him so he let it go. He placed my foot on his lap and he knelt down in front of me and tied my skates up. My stomach flipped just watching him so effortlessly tie them for me. As he finished he sat up and pressed his mouth gently to mine for the hundredth time today, but I didn’t care. My eyes fluttered shut, making me want to savour this moment with him.

“I’m gonna tell JT we kissed in his booth.” I snicked as we walked down the tunnel towards the ice.

Quinn just shakes his head as he opened the bench door for us, “you’re such a brat.”

He grabbed my hand and led me onto the ice. I admired the empty arena, it felt like a completely different place compared to how it was during a game. You could’ve heard a pin drop in here right now. We did a few laps around so I could break in my new skates. I was a pretty decent skater but I felt like Bambi compared to him.

“One on one?”

I just nod as Quinn passed me a stick. It was a little long for me but I was determined to make it work. He dumped a bucket of pucks onto the ice as he began to fish one out with his stick. I watched him, bewildered. The way he controlled the puck was so effortless. He looked up, cheeks flushed as he realized what I was doing.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I replied bashfully, “am I not allowed to admire my boyfriend’s stick work?”

“This is doing it for you?” He smirked, raising his eyebrow. “I do this every night.”

“I know.” I breathed. I’d be lying if I didn’t say watching him play was my biggest turn on, because it definitely was. “I guess I never get tired of it.”

Quinn threw a sarcastic remark at me, I rolled my eyes before he pulled me into a deep kiss. My stick dropped to the ice as my lips parted for his tongue that was begging to enter my mouth. Despite it being cold in here, my cheeks were completely flushed.

“I wanna take you home.”

“Soon.” I replied, grabbing my stick and slowly guiding a puck into the net. We played one on one for a good hour before we decided to go home. Quinn will never admit I scored more on him than he did on me, so I guess that will be our little secret…for now.

Our dinner wasn’t perfect. We had hardly any groceries considering we weren’t supposed to be in town. We found spring rolls in the freezer, made a small charcuterie board with cheese, crackers and grapes we had in the fridge. We polished off a bottle of red wine as we watched a few Christmas movies, both agreeing Christmas Vacation was our favourite. Our hands slowly wandered more and more during the movie as the wine started to hit us. Quinn swooped me up into his arms and brought me into our room, his lips never leaving mine. All the lights were out in our room, all you could see was the snow falling from the sky, Christmas lights in the distance, along with the pale glow of our tree from the living room. It illuminated Quinns face, making his eyes sparkle more that normal.

His movements were so slow, nothing could be heard but our laboured breaths. Quinns face was buried in my neck, his stubble that he’s been growing out more grazed against my skin. It felt rough, but I was so lost in his touch that it didn’t even phase me.

“It’s midnight.” Quinn whispered in my ear, his lips pressing into my neck, “Merry Christmas baby.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t spend it with your family.”

“It’s okay.” He replies, kissing my forehead before peering into my eyes, “spending today with you was the greatest gift of all.”

Quinn envelopes me into a hug as we began to fall into a blissful sleep, unaware of how much snow would fall during the night. Maybe sugar plums would dance in our heads but all I knew was my heart was full. I didn’t need a bunch of gifts under the tree, I had everything I needed, and he was wrapped up in my arms… the perfect present.

[magnificent-winged-beast]

I'm incommunicado.

Can't receive asks since the message thing of my blog died.

Can't reply to my own post.

It's been 1 month. I don't hsve followers or they are bots probably, because I only got two since December. Just the secondary blogs had this rush of bots following.

Don't know if the people I use to casually chat know that I don't have this feature.

Aparently, I can't send asks either. Or I'm probably with this "pissed by the tumblr Gods energy" that no one wants to reply to me, or even tag me.

It seems they are trying to smother this blog slowly and casually. Like being a drunk on the floor and they put a gigant sing upon my body that says: Don't bother, she likes being like this and probably will bite you if you help her. And are waiting for me to just stop breathing or chocke on my own vomit.

So let it die, let it rot. I hope this isn't a sign of this side of the fandom also dying and moving on with other things. I still and adict of all the art and shenanigans this fandom still has in it even if the show ended almost 3 years ago.

Personally, I still want this to be a blog for Castiel and Misha, even if it's like 100% Destiel and Cockles since 2020. I'm really looking forward for the GK thing.

But if I've been forced to evacuate here, and begin from the 200 followers on my other blogs of personal endeavors, I should leave now.

I've been sending a request to fix this to tumblr help once a week. Not even a mail in response or acknowledge of my existence so far.

From my 6 years of experience here, I think I'm far from relevant or desirable as an user, even if I purchase stuff, pay for the no ads thing. I assume that a single person from Bolivia does not mean a demographic they want to keep, and the amount of followers it has does not count as significant, neither this blog as a part of those 6 years in the tumblr ecosystem. Because of the mass migration from Twitter, I assume, that are overwhelming their servers. Loosing me it's probably a lint in their corporate belly buttons.

Funny thing is I try to convince me that this blog matters. Even if many other people leave this site deactivating their blogs and leaving a big hole in the fandom in my opinion. But me, just fading away, or tumblr just expecting I give up leave and forget this blog, so they magically solve the thing once I migrate to another user or platform. Isn't really a big deal in the great scheme of things. I don't think anyone will notice my disappearance. I'm no legacy or important blog.

In the mean girls universe, before the let's point the blogs that gaslight us to believe that OF COURSE DESTIEL WILL HAPPEN IN THE END, how you DARE to not trust us META minds that know Dabb is our personal Jesus Christ and savior. At first I hang out with with them, but then I renegate and became the usual Cas Stan that got the "Bitter" tittle because I knew they will not have the Cojones to make Destiel actually happen on the screen as a real and indiscutible situation, like a kiss or an open declaration of love that had to go BOTH WAYS.

So, my importance here is minimal. Other blogs where more active and spoke about this inner bullying in on our Heller community. How being a Clown that got many questions and wasn't that happy after watching Castiel go to Superhell and Dean just staying there looking sad, but didn't say anything at all, wasn't the promise land they preach.

I will always protest about the awful way Misha was used to bait his fan base to watch the worse two episodes in human TV history of that finale just hoping he'll be there... eventually (I was that fool, and I waited, and I waited, and I watched... THE HORROR 😱).

Anyways, because I know this post probably will go to tumblr hell like Castiel. And be there in the empty of promises and things we prefer to believe to not loose or Collective Clown minds when Jackles has the time and has the 133563323th question about that scene that confirms that Dean was being a Bro and Cas was being a Bro and all the thing was just in our heads and Cas never said I love you, or he said it but it was more like a: BRO, I LOVE YOU, BRUH.

I'll try to reach the Server Gods, plead for my oxygen and pray for the cause of this punishment not being just another antiheller pro Jarpiss that got all the time in the world, or enough friends to ask for my reporting as whatever they could just to put me in this position.

I rather want to believe this is like a rite of passage. For what I recall, many blogs of people who I love and enjoy had a temporal deactivation or this kind of things once or twice in their history. So, that gives me hope to think, opposite of what I explained earlier in this gigant mental fart of existence and relevance on the tumblresphere, I'm probably and finally being initiated in the ancient ways of torture to became and actual real blog in its own right.

I. Really. Prefer. To think. It's just that kind of things. Not the Tall one lovers and their obsession with a gigant 40s toddler.

Still I will always keep distance from them and their Incestuos ownership of the S*PN tag.

If this are my last words, and or post, I want to say:

VIVA COCKLES!

[venice-1987]

Soren deserves to have a little breakdown in season 7. As a treat.

[dustykneed]

Hello! Random whipper snipper! Share a WIP of your work!

ooh, with pleasure. six the musical araleyn fanart? in the year 2k24? more likely than you think xDD

i realize this looks finished, but technically i'm still deciding whether to add a background or not lol. still, for the sake of sharing a proper WIP, here's a line or two from an araleyn brainworm WIP that i started reworking yesterday (mild tw for religious guilt and period-typical internalized homophobia from aragon's pov):

She remembers sharing her bed with Anne at Henry's behest, remembers the nights of tossing and turning and trying not to think about Anne asleep next to her-- remembers waking up to dark hair spilling across her pillow and the press of blood-warm bosoms against her own, softer than sin, as hot as the Devil, remembers lying still as death, mouthing prayers into the heat of Anne's neck like an act of penance.

[kideternity]

Musashino City Hero, Xana!

Hello local heroes nation 💪 as Inspired by @number-one-toku-robot-lover, I'm gonna start crossposting photos of various local heroes. The guy up above is Xana, an elephant themed hero who focuses on environmental matters

[jadedaegis]

Oil Rigs look god in the eyes and spits on their shoes

SERIOUSLY WHO JUST WENT:

"Ah, mhyes quite. The Number Must Climb™; sacrifice peasantry to collect the Death that coalesces in locked-away packets of the deepest underground depths. This death has rotted beyond normal decomposition, giving it undue ability to effectively reanimate inanimate matter upon combustion. "

AND THEN CONTINUED WITH:

"Furthermore, we shall build a monument to this Death; a Hell borne of jagged angles and crude iron. Behold, ye witless peons! Harvest for with me! Partake of what we know not of handling! Imbue life into our mechanical automatons; derive VIGOR from DEATH! A brutalist siphon that exchanges life quality for work quantity- directly converting my serfdom's labor into cold! Hard! Cash! This has no chance of hurting the entire species. Harvesting the energy of death is a smart and sane thing to do : ) "

[ambiguousgrass]

she c on my bee till i duo or whatever

[kindlythevoid]

Help Wanted:

Lost a fic!! It was a Supernatural crossover (I can't remember with what, just that it was one fandom and not multiple), minimalist, under 10.000 words (most likely less than 5.000). Name was a Lord Huron quote, I did comment on the fic but I cannot find it. Probably Gen or T, maybe Not Rated.

Plot: (SPOILERS) Dean and 1?? (other fandom character) are fishing peacefully (I think, at least they're by a river) waiting for Sam and 2?? (other fandom character's respective sibling equivalent) to show up. The two bond. Story pans out and Sam and 2?? are on the other side of the river. Dean and 1?? are dead, and Sam and 2?? talk about how they'll get along. (Something to that effect.)

Was sad. Was good. I cannot find it. It has been stuck in my head for the last few hours, even though I haven't read it in months. If you find any fic with SPN and one other fandom where I am FULL CAPS SCREAMING LORD HURON LYRICS than that is probably the fic. I have been searching for at least an hour. I don't know if it was taken off the site (Ao3). (I would be sad if this were the case, but I would appreciate at least knowing)

[authenticcadence18]

I miss the person I was a year ago. two years ago. more social. happier. doing more creatively.

[peaches2217]

I come from a family of singers, and while I didn’t inherit the Actually Good at Singing gene, I used to love singing anyway. I’ve always been an alto, and my deeper voice was always a point of pride for me! I was into musical theatre, and when I would actually be cast, I’d find as many loopholes as possible to sing lower than I was supposed to. I wanted to be a Broadway actress. But I wanted to play women’s and men’s roles. I wanted to be known as the woman who could be a man just as easily and just as flawlessly.

But after a, uh, particular incident at a singing contest, I realized just how much I actually sucked and swore off singing for the rest of my life; I’ve been slowly allowing myself to sing again through my twenties, but never where others can hear.

While my speaking voice hasn’t dropped as much since starting T, my singing voice has. I’ve been testing my low range by singing the opening of The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg and seeing how many notes I can actually hit, and I’ve been kinda dissatisfied, because I still can’t hit the bottom notes. But as of late I’ve found myself cranking off into musical theatre pieces whenever I’m alone and cleaning or driving or what have you, and the more I go through, the more I realize my voice is, at present, so much closer to the voice I always wanted growing up.

While cleaning the windows at work, I cranked off on the most hilariously passionately rendition of Who I’d Be, which has always been one of my favorites, but one I could never sing; it went too low, and raising the key took it too high outside of my range. Now? I can hit every last note. Not well, of course, but I never once struggled in the lows. Now I can’t stop singing it, because I’ve wanted to sing it since I was thirteen and now I finally can and I’m needlessly emotional over it.

I dunno. It’s just nice. This is the first time I’ve felt happy about my voice since I was in middle school, and it’s empowering in an odd sorta way.

[essenceofarda]

.

[torchickentacos]

[mochiwrites]

blegh

[nicnevans]

I can't reblog that post about MFA writing styles bc it's unrebloggable but I actually laughed out loud at the assertation that most readers don't know what pernod is. You can buy it in tesco for god's sake 😂

[runawaymun]

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