🐾 Cat Scratches - [James “Logan” Howlett x Reader]
WARNINGS: lots of fluff, brief mention of neck kisses, some suggestive comments but nothing past PG
CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (Wolverine, MARVEL/X-MEN)
🐾 .*.. 🕯️
Logan laid comfortably on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your lower back and hips as he buried his face into your abdomen, the bare skin of your tummy visible just slightly underneath your sweater.
Lazily scrolling through your phone, splayed out across his bed with him on top of you, your fingers trailed over his upper shoulders, scratching the fabric of his white compression shirt, rubbing his sore muscles from a long day of training and battle practice.
As your fingers trailed upwards mindlessly on his back, your manicured nails finally reached the nape of his neck, teasing the edge of his hairline.
Scrolling down further through your instagram, you let out a soft sigh of content as your fingers finally buried into the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a low rumble from the back of his throat.
You perked up at this, glancing past the dimmed screen of your device, an eyebrow quirked upwards at his reaction.
“You alright, Lo?”
You muttered out, a small, curious smile tugging at your glossy lips, damp from your teeth gently biting at them out of unconscious habit.
“Mmmh,”
He responded in a low hum, leaning into your fingers as you smiled, a small, amused chuckle leaving your lips at his fingers that slid lower on your back, cupping the backs of your thighs with a slightly possessive grip.
You felt a soft, warm press of his chapped lips against your stomach, just above your panty line, and a small laugh left your lips as he buried his nose further into you, inhaling without hesitation. In response, your legs opened slightly underneath him, wrapping them around his broad midsection with a light squeeze.
Preferring the man in front of you opposed to the celebrities on your phone, you dropped it at your side, letting it become lost in the fluffy, unkept sheets next to your form as both your hands wrapped around his head, burying your fingers into his scalp.
A low, animalistic-like growl left his lips as you scratched through his hair, meeting the place behind his ears, where you knew he was most sensitive.
Tracing over the area where his jaw connected to his ear and neck, you let out a low hum in response, tilting your head propped up on one of his pillows to the side, your eyebrows knitting together lightly in curiosity at his pleasant reactions.
“Feels good, bub. Right- mmh. There.”
Your eyes narrowed at his borderline inappropriate hum, and you nodded, wordlessly continuing to scrape through his fluffy, unkept hair.
“I didn’t take you for a cat, Logan,” You teased quietly, a small vibration leaving your own form, similar to that of the buzz of an old stereo.
“Don’t mock me, sweetheart. Can’t help it,”
He shot back, his furry eyebrows knitting together as he finally shifted, pulling himself up further, allowing his face to move from your stomach to your collarbone, trying desperately not to go full deadweight on you, knowing he’d crush your frail form.
“Plus, ever since you got yer nails done-”
He didn’t finish his sentence as you raked through his head of hair once more, pushing his face into the warm skin of your exposed neck, muffling any protest from him.
“Stop talking, James. Sleep.”
You effectively hushed him, a small smile pulling at your face as he grumbled out something along the lines of ‘mm. Whatever,’ and ‘fine.’
You felt him pepper a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth teasingly biting down on your exposed shoulder, before lapping at the new mark with his tongue, admiring his work with your taste.
“G’night, bub.”
You smiled at his subtle acceptance to your demand, your fingers frozen in his fluffy hair and partially in his long side shaves, nodding.
“Goodnight, kitty.”
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Happy Meals from McDonald's look so depressing now. Apparently they removed the smiley face from the kids meal.
According to the article:
In honor of Mental Health Awareness Week, McDonald's locations in the United Kingdom have removed the iconic smile from its Happy Meal boxes. The move aims to communicate that it's ok not to be happy all the time.
This is just a stupid idea to me. It's just a fucking smile face.
Apparently these are not good for mental health? Removing it was a bad idea.
It went from 😊 to 😐
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“Let’s embroider the words onto the skirt in cursive! With a backstitch! In metallic thread that twists easily and breaks at slight pressure or abrasion!” I said. “It’ll be easy” I said.
Dear reader, I was wrong
But at least it looks good!
Show it off because I can’t help myself (I mean, look at those J’s!)
(Also sort of soft launching my next big costume, but honestly I highly doubt anyone could guess this one)
(Except you, @daksicavalry . Of course.)
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Now that I'm here, I can share this incredibly bad idea
If Tumblr had it's own animated series on Netflix
-90% of the jokes in it would be taken from various viral tumblr posts, uncredited
-characters will unironically have names like "blorbo" and "scrimbus"
-Randy and his sticks will be a multiple episode story arc
-jokes and scenes will randomly appear within new episodes (context is their being 'reblogged'
-half of the voice cast will be made up of various text to speech voices
-the other half will be made up of PM Seymour
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The Bitter Taste: Coriolanus Snow X Sibling! Reader
The clip-clop of his shoes filled my ears. Who, you ask? My older brother, Coriolanus. It hurts me so much what happened to him in 12.
When he came back, he came back a changed man, more deranged, seemingly more like my Grandma'am's description of Crassus Snow, my father.
He walked out, wearing a new set of the academy uniform. Paid for by the Plinths. I wonder what the hell did good ol' Coriolanus do to deserve the Plinth fortune.
"How do I look?" He asked Tigris, who was sitting in the dining table. She had a solemn expression on her face, and was seemingly sharing my sentiments.
"You look just like your father, Coriolanus." I imagined that hurt him. Or maybe it didn't. I don't even know him anymore, honestly. My heart dropped when he turned to me.
"You, Y/N? how do I look?" He looked at me so eerily, like I was seeing an old children's horror story come to life.
"Who are you? You're not my brother." I turned away from him, and walked to my room.
"That's not the answer I was looking for, Y/N." He replied. I could sense the seething tone in his voice, the slightest hint of disdain.
"I don't even know who you are anymore, but you look great, Coriolanus."
I walked into my room and shut the door.
Those last words hurt, I surmise. But, it's better to spout lies that leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
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