#glass gender

[timmy-bee]

☆ O7﹚ LUMIVITRAILIC

a gender related to stained glass windows and the way light is colorful when it shines through them ⋆ ☀

┈ For @puriette's 800 followers giveaway / coining event!

[mothervega]

anyone out there who enjoys both Bive and The Smiler i’m boutta summon all of you cuz I MADE A SMILER INSPIRED BIVE AVATAR MUAHAHAHAHAA

[glassedplanets]

i am still soooo charmed by that one set of eyecatchers

[lucabyte]

Happy PMD Red is on NSO day. Sadly I don't think King the Skitty and Muse the Cyndaquil will be returning to finish up their adventure regardless.

[uzurakis]

HEAR ME OUT PLS. . . thight riding micheal kaiser 🫡

HEARING YOU OUT, DEFINITELY . .

"michael," you murmur, feeling the heat build between you. his arms wrap around you, and you feel his fingers tracing slow, tantalizing circles on your inner thighs

his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers brushing closer to your core. he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "you're so sensitive," he whispers, his voice dripping with playful intent

you turn your head to look at him, and your eyes lock onto his. the glasses he wears in his free time sit perfectly on his nose, giving him an irresistibly sexy, studious look. "the glasses stay on," you say, your voice firm despite the quiver of anticipation running through you

he chuckles softly, his lips grazing your ear. "as you wish, mein liebling”

with that, he adjusts his grip on you, guiding your hips to straddle his thigh. you can feel the muscles beneath you, firm and strong, as he begins to move your hips back and forth. the friction is delicious, and a moan escapes your lips before you can stop it

"so ya like that?" he asks, voice low and husky. his hands grip your hips, controlling the rhythm, intensifying the sensations coursing through you

you nod, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure builds. the way he's watching you, those glasses amplifying the intensity of his gaze, only makes the experience more electrifying

“good," he murmurs, "’cuz ‘m not gonna stop until you're completely satisfied” he continues to guide your movements, his eyes never leaving yours

"michael," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support. the pressure and friction are driving you wild, pushing you closer to the edge

he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss. "that's it," he encourages, voice a soft growl. "let go for me”

and with one final, intense glide, you do. the release washes over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. he holds you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead as you catch your breath

“how ‘bout we try something else?”

edit: TAGGING @loneisland 4 fun because WE ARE KAISER FUCKERZZZZZZ !!!! 🦶

[cangrellesteponme]

happy pride month to the evil demon and the evil demon ONLY

[boydykedevo]

Yknow?

[anystalker707]

Baby said

Pairing: James Kelly x [gn, afab] Reader Summary: James won't shut up. He can talk between your legs, if he wants to. Tags: pussy eating / use of pussy + cunt / hes annoying (a tease / ☆transmasc friendly

MASTER LIST

She puts her hand on my lips, begging "Please, end this conversation" "Shut your mouth, give me your head" "Let me taste your silhouette" "You can talk between my legs" Baby Said - Måneskin

          James talked too much, for a fact. It wasn’t all that bad, no, because you actually enjoyed how he’d care enough to ask you about your day and have interesting conversations about the topics you liked, but right now wasn’t the moment. He started talking about something random, which was barely relevant by now, and the rent evolved into something completely different, words muffled by the music, chatter, and glass clinking of the bar.

Sip by sip, the beer inside the bottle in his hand only reached below half of the bottle, and an already empty bottle sat on the counter to be removed by a bartender. James sat on the neighbor stool with an arm folded over the counter, feet on the footrest, sometimes letting the bottle rest on his thigh. His gaze rarely found yours, and even if it did, he’d look away too soon. Was he unaware of the boredom stamped on your face, or was it intentional?

The veins on the back of his hand became a little more prominent when he squeezed your thigh, and you hoped his hand would move up a little, squeeze your thigh, do something else. After such a harsh day, you deserved something from your boyfriend. A little pampering, at least.

“...and they still want a good job done, d’you get it?” James glanced at you again, and you only nodded absentmindedly. He’d told that story so many times already, repeating it whenever he was revolted with something at work, ignoring your advice to leave the others’ work alone since that didn’t concern him.

James’ lips closed around the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing while the drink trailed down his throat, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him, squirming a little in an attempt to quench the tingling between your legs. He let the bottle down again, his hand wrapped around the neck, a finger tracing the rim slowly. If only…

You rubbed your brow and closed your eyes in an attempt to alleviate that annoyance that twisted in your chest at least a little, focusing briefly on the counter’s edge pressing to your back, its cold surface under your arm, the music, whatever. The talk wavered when you grabbed the bottle from his hand to take a swig, but the taste wasn’t all that good, leaving behind a taste that reminded you of corn or something similar.

“Baby?” James raised his eyebrows at how you scrunched your nose and put the bottle away, leaning into his side in the process.

“What’s gotten in you today?” You glanced at him. “C’mon, end this conversation, please. This is killing me,” you said close to his ear, watching him sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, furrowing his eyebrows.

James smelled like a mix of engine oil, grease, and smoke, which clung to him even after a shower and putting on some clean clothes and a spray of his cheap cologne to hang out with you in a nice bar downtown after receiving some extra cash. He sighed, pressing his nose to the side of your face in a way his breath fanned over the side of your neck—you shivered.

“Sorry, baby.” He smacked his lips as his eyes scanned the place, then finally met yours. “Thought you were enjoying this—”

Your thumb pressed across James' lips as you cupped his face to bring him close enough to whisper into his ear. “Shut your mouth, give me some head.”

His grip tightened on your shoulder at the same moment his breath hitched, and it took James a long moment to finally nod, sighing as he pressed his face to the side of your neck. “Ugh, baby, I thought you wanted to have a nice time here, you and I, that you’d tell me ‘bout—”

“James.”

“Mm?”

“Talk between my legs, if you really want to.”

Whatever James wanted to say was replaced by a firm nod as he raised his eyebrows a little, throwing his free hand in the air in surrender. “Yes, baby, okay.” He finished the beer in a swig before he stood up and grabbed your hand to guide you through the crowd.

James stopped by the entrance of the restrooms, peeking into one of them before he tried to act casual when a guy left the male restroom, which would have been funny if it weren’t for the urgency. He walked into the restroom first, analyzing the stalls before he pulled you in and locked the door swiftly as fast as his lips pressed to yours in a firm kiss once he’d pinned you to the wall. A soft groan escaped his throat, his hands gripping your hips with the same eagerness you clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck.

If it were anywhere else—like the bar down his street—, you would’ve chosen to go home rather than into the restrooms, but this one had a faint scent of soap and Air Wick along with something else—the high price for the entrance needed to be worth every square inch of that place.

Despite the lingering taste of beer on his lips, James’ kisses were perfect, his lips pressing to yours with a rush of desire that transpired through every little action. His hands ran up and down your sides, settling down and squeezing your ass at the same time his tongue pushed past your lips and pressed to yours demandingly. The way his strong hands kneaded on your ass made the arousal burn hotter in your lower stomach, and you followed the guidance of his grip, grinding your hips against the bulge tenting the front of his pants and earning yourself a groan from him.

A tingling sensation replaced the light ache from James’ teeth tugging on your lips after he pulled away and kissed down your neck instead, stubble scratching your skin, irrelevant when compared to the soft moans he snatched from you. James knew your sweet spots by heart, so that wasn’t a hard job anyway. His lips pressed to the heated skin to cover it in kisses and nipping until your breath turned into little gasps.

“Never leavin’ me alone, are you?” James’ breath tickled your neck.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.” A smile tugged on your lips.

James grunted in response, unbuckling your belt and unbuttoning your pants while kissing along your jaw, giving it a last nip before he lowered himself to his knees. Taking your pants would’ve been an easier task if it weren’t for the rush making every little task ten times harder—you gripped onto James’ shoulder for support to try to kick the pants and underwear off one of your legs, struggling to do it despite his help.

“Shit,” James muttered before he hooked your leg over his shoulder. “There we go,” he muttered against your thigh. His eyes met yours with desire burning behind the blue irises, which were nothing but thin rings around blown pupils by now, holding your attention while his teeth teased your skin. “Vicious,” he whispered between soft kisses as his hands held firmly onto your thighs, fingers sinking into them possessively.

“I already told you to shut up.” You clicked your tongue, running your fingers through his hair. He rolled his eyes lightly before rubbing his cheek against your thigh, and you didn’t know how to feel about the sensation. A strained sound escaped your lips, followed by one of his own when your fingers tugged on his hair, moans and groans lost in the empty restroom under the muffled song penetrating the walls.

The nipping on your inner thigh made you clench around nothing in anticipation, at the same time it had you pondering between telling James to do it already and enjoying the teasing.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, y’know that?” James’s breath fanned over your cunt before he pressed his lips to it, mouthing at the slit experimentally, still enough to send a shiver down your spine when his lips grazed your clit. His hands held you more firmly to keep you in place while his lips pressed to you properly, his tongue running against your pussy in fat licks to drink in the wetness that’d accumulated already from all the craving and teasing. It made you shudder and press your heel to his back, unconsciously trying to bring him closer, to have his tongue on your clit because he meant it, not just occasional grazes.

James groaned, mouthing at your pussy—practically making out with it—, sucking softly with each motion and letting his lips linger against you, in a way you quickly needed to lean back against the wall more for support. His tongue finally circled your clit, warm and wet, deliciously seeking a louder moan from you so that he could wrap his lips around it and suck, each movement balanced between his plans and the desire that seeped into the moment. Your knees went weak in a way that you would’ve been on the ground already if it weren’t for his strong hands holding you up and the wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

Another rush was sent down your core when James looked up at you again, eyes half-lidded, face buried between your thighs. Hell, you were gonna fucking die.

The jolt of pleasure fizzled away into something less intense, leaving behind a dull ache and snatching a whimper from your lips, ignored and followed by pleasure sparkling through your body again, mingled with pain, when James nipped on your folds.

“James,” you hissed, tugging on his hair. He let out a delicious groan as his head tilted back, and you took the opportunity to thrust your hips forward, grinding your pussy against his face—if anything, he loved it.

His fingers sank into the fat of your thighs, and James mouthed at your pussy again, eating it as if it were a meal, until an intense sparkle of something greater peaked in the distance, but he fucking slowed down, ignoring your frustration. James’ tongue rubbed slow, controlled circles around your clit until the feeling dissipated—or at least vanished into something weaker—, and he tried to keep on top of it, alternating between short, sharp flicks and long, slow licks. It made your thighs quiver, the thoughts escaping your grasp, and he kept his eyes on your face to keep an idea of what you felt, to watch the pleasure he made you feel.

James’ tongue circled your entrance, making your cunt clench around nothing again, but only until his tongue finally pushed inside, lapping inside you and tracing your entrance in such a way.

James moaned against your pussy, eyes fluttering closed, and he fucking nipped on your clit, eating you out more vigorously as the pain blended with pleasure and made you weak. “Cum f’me? You close, baby? Lemme taste you.”

The words got lost in a moan before you could say them, tightening your grip on James’ hair while your hips bucked against his mouth. “Ahh, yes,” you breathed with a whimper, unable to keep the sounds from escaping your lips as James kept devouring your pussy so deliciously, making your mind quickly grow hazy with a pleasure that filled your senses, heady and intoxicating. His name spilled from your lips in a breathy moan as you finally came, holding his head buried between your thighs in an attempt to make the pleasure drag out with how he kept mouthing at your pussy.��

Finally, that tension inside you turned into relief. James’ licks turned borderline overstimulating as he drank all he could from your release, mouthing at your pussy, letting go of it with a final tug on your labia with his lips. “Well, there it is, baby,” he whispered, “and I want more.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[drksnctury]

ohh im not okay

[ahappydnp]

this queen

[librababe99]

Through Crimson Glass: Part One

CW: feelings of guilt, self doubt, isolation, physical injury, hurt/no comfort, strangers to friends, friends to lovers...

Word Count: 1391

AN: Sorry that i'm blowing up your timelines tonight! I been so into writing and wanting to get things out for y'all ❤️ For those of you who voted for Scott on the poll this past weekend...this is for you! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

The mansion loomed ahead, its gothic architecture softened by the golden rays of the setting sun. You stood at the edge of the vast lawn, clutching the straps of your backpack as if it were the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters—your new home, though the word “home” felt foreign on your tongue. You weren’t sure what to expect from this place, only that it was meant to be a refuge for people like you. People who didn’t fit anywhere else.

“Hey, you must be the new recruit.”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see a tall figure walking toward you. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, but what caught your attention were the red-tinted glasses that obscured his eyes. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, but there was something in the way he carried himself—a quiet strength that made you feel both comforted and nervous at the same time.

“Scott Summers,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand. His voice was gentle, though it held an underlying authority that made you instinctively straighten your posture.

You shook his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. You introduced yourself with a soft tone. Meeting new people has always been difficult for you, especially with your powers—your emotions had a tendency to bleed into those around you, overwhelming them if you weren’t careful. But Scott didn’t seem fazed by your hesitation. If anything, his calm demeanor seemed to anchor you.

“Professor Xavier told me you’d be arriving today,” Scott said, releasing your hand. “I’m one of the senior members of the team. I’ll be helping you get settled in.”

You nodded, grateful for his kindness. He gestured for you to follow him, and you fell into step beside him as he led you toward the mansion. The grounds were vast, with gardens and wooded areas that stretched out as far as you could see. It was beautiful, but there was an underlying tension in the air—a reminder that this place, for all its serenity, was also a fortress.

“You’re a telepath, right?” Scott asked, glancing at you. “Or something similar?”

You hesitated, unsure how to explain your abilities. “Not exactly. I can… manipulate emotions,” you said slowly, trying to find the right words. “It’s not like reading minds, but I can sense what people are feeling. Sometimes, if I’m not careful, I can push those emotions onto others. Make them feel what I’m feeling.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a powerful ability,” he said. “But I can see why it might be difficult to control.”

You looked down at your feet, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settle in your chest. “It’s why I’m here. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You won’t,” Scott said firmly, his tone reassuring. “We’ll help you learn to control it. That’s what this place is for.”

His words, though simple, held a conviction that made you want to believe him. You glanced up at him, finding comfort in the certainty of his expression. For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

Over the next few weeks, Scott became a constant presence in your life. He took his role as your mentor seriously, guiding you through training sessions designed to help you control your powers. The exercises were exhausting, both physically and emotionally, but Scott was always there, offering support and encouragement whenever you stumbled.

At first, you were wary of letting him get too close. Your emotions were a volatile thing, prone to lashing out when you were overwhelmed. But Scott’s patience slowly wore down your defenses. He never pushed you to open up, instead allowing you to set the pace. It wasn’t long before you found yourself looking forward to your sessions with him, not just because of the progress you were making, but because of the connection that was slowly forming between you.

There were moments, in the quiet spaces between training drills, when you would catch Scott watching you. His gaze would linger a moment too long, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. And in those moments, you could feel the undercurrent of something more—something unspoken that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the exertion of your training.

It was during one of these moments that the shift between you and Scott became undeniable.

The day had been particularly grueling. You were pushed to your limits, trying to hold back the tide of emotions that surged within you. Scott had designed an exercise to help you isolate your feelings, to focus them into something manageable. But the harder you tried, the more it felt like you were drowning in them.

Finally, Scott called an end to the session. You collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath as sweat dripped down your face. Your muscles ached, but it was the strain on your mind that left you feeling utterly drained. Scott crouched beside you, offering you a bottle of water. You took it gratefully, though your hands trembled as you unscrewed the cap.

“You did well today,” Scott said quietly, his voice cutting through the haze of your exhaustion. “I know it’s not easy, but you’re getting stronger.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of failure that clung to you. “It doesn’t feel like it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m just… holding on by a thread.”

Scott’s hand rested on your shoulder, the touch grounding you. “It’s okay to feel that way,” he said. “What you’re doing is hard, but you don’t have to do it alone. We’re a team. I’m here for you.”

His words, combined with the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, caused a crack in the walls you had so carefully built around your heart. You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt. But all you saw was sincerity—an unwavering belief in you that you couldn’t fully comprehend.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice trembled with the weight of the question.

Scott’s expression softened, and for a moment, the mask of calm confidence slipped. “Because I’ve been where you are,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re a danger to everyone around you. To feel like you’re fighting a battle you can’t win. But you can win this. I know you can.”

The intensity of his words, combined with the raw honesty in his voice, overwhelmed you. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you. Scott didn’t pull away. Instead, he met you halfway, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle, almost hesitant.

The world seemed to still as you both lingered in that moment, your emotions intertwining with his in a way that felt like both a relief and a release. It was as if all the unspoken feelings that had built up between you were finally allowed to surface, pouring into the kiss with a fervor that left you breathless.

When you finally pulled away, you found yourself staring into Scott’s eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. His glasses had slipped slightly, allowing you to see a glimpse of the blue beneath them. For a moment, the vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own, and you realized that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment of passion. It was the beginning of something deeper—something that both terrified and exhilarated you.

Scott’s hand was still on your shoulder, his thumb gently tracing circles against your skin. “We’ll figure this out together,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet determination that made you believe him.

You nodded, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. In that moment, with the weight of Scott’s gaze and the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time: hope.

For the first time since you arrived at the mansion, you felt like you might actually belong. Not just at Xavier’s, but with Scott. And that, more than anything, was a glimpse of paradise you never thought you’d find.

[maomango-doodle]

Playing around with the color wheel WEEE

[sunnie-angel]

Okay but Jason Todd with glasses. You get a pair of blue light glasses, large framed and black. He teases you about trying to look like Clark Kent, tells you you’re still cuter though. He doesn’t quite get why you bother with them but you find them helpful and that’s all that matters. After a long night of looking at screens while working a frustratingly difficult case, the eye strain is getting aggravating. You’ve left your glasses on the coffee table, and he thinks why not. And yeah, the glasses do make a difference, he manages to crack the case before dawn and without the nagging eye pain. You find him in the morning, sprawled out on the couch, glasses askew but still perched on his nose. He wakes up to you giggling and snapping a photo. You tell him to keep them, that they look better on him anyway (because wow they really do make his eyes look so large, his lashes longer and darker). Some nights, when he’s working late, you get treated to the lovely sight of him in them. Your handsome reporter, you tease him back.

[totallyradicalmucky]

HAPPY PRIDE GUYS

[naivegh0ul]

that post about ghost being into you ignoring him,,

I thirst for more

the brainrot is reeeeaaal ughhh

I wanna cockwarm him but instead of grinding and whining and complaining that I want him to fill me so good like I usually do I wanna just sit there and actually cockwarm him, pretend he isn’t there, go on my phone and maybe respond to all the guys in my DMs right in front of him, maybe linger on one dick pick from some rando just to rile him up and watch out of the corner of my eye as his twitches in frustration, but he won’t say anything about it :(( I wanna be sitting in the living room on the couch all sweet and pretty and have him come up to me and try to grind on me or get me to touch him but all I’ll do is lay there and read my book or watch my show, pull my hands out of his when he tries to pull them towards his cock for me to stroke him :(( he’d be so mad and pent up after probably only a day, and when he does get to slip his cock into my tight hole?? baby I’d pretend I couldn’t feel anything and start reading some yummy smut while he ruts into me :(( but it’s okay bc he likes it and it gets him off and makes him try harder to please me, so it’s a win-win!!

YESSS you get me this is exactly what I was thinking.

He thinks that if he gets you in his lap and stuffs you full of his cock, he'll get a reaction. Maybe have you squirming and whining. But you just sit there, on that stupid little phone of yours.

And god, if you even dare start looking at some other guy's dick pics? He gets so mad, hands balling into fists and his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He knows he should control himself, at least on the outside.

On the inside, he's fuming. He's picturing kicking that guy's ass, beating him to a pulp and then sending you a photo of his limp, unconscious body. Just the thought of it gets his cock twitching inside you, has him groaning and bucking his hips up into you.

You're so right about sitting and looking all pretty on the couch for him. In your cute little pyjamas, book in hand as you smile and get butterflies from what's happening in the story. You haven't look up from your book in ages (it's been 10 minutes) and he really wants you right now.

He tries so hard to get your attention, pulling out all the stops. He spreads his thighs, rubbing them lightly as he groans and shifts his hips. No response. So he tries something a little more hands on, shuffling closer to run his hands along your torso and chest. Still, no response.

When he tries to grab your hand to pull it away from the book, you let him; teasing him a little, leading him on. You let him pull your hand towards his crotch, his sweats tented from where his cock is hard and leaking but you don't let him put your hand on it, simply pulling your hand back and flipping the page nonchalantly.

Once this goes on for longer than a day, and you're denying him what he wants, he gets really annoyed. He's walking around the house with a permanent hard-on, sometimes waking up to find himself grinding against your ass.

It's torture and he loves it.

When he finally manages to get his hands on you, it's over for him. He's cumming before he's even fully inside you, just the tip pressed into your hole as he moans and throws his head back. You don't care, acting as if you can't feel Ghost's thick cock stretching you out and twitching inside you as he cums.

And Ghost is determined to make you react. Anything, a shaky sigh, a tiny moan, anything. Just something to show that, yes, he does affect you. His balls slapping against your ass does affect you.

He does affect you - he does have you fingering yourself in the bathroom when he goes to bed because you're so pent up from not letting Ghost touch you - but he doesn't know that. To him, you're completely fine. You don't care when he bottoms out and cums again, choosing to rut against your ass slowly so he doesn't shoot his load for the third time.

Don't even think about pulling up some smut on your phone because that will be his last straw. As much as he absolutely loves being ignored, loves seeing your bored little expression as he fingers you open, he wants you to react. He needs you to react.

So that phone is being tossed onto the carpeted floor and you're being flipped onto your back, your legs slung over Ghost's shoulders as he puts you into a mating press and enters you again, leaning down so you're face to face and Ghost can watch the minute details of your expression, checking to see if your eyebrows furrow a little or if your eyes cloud over and your lips part.

[k1ranishf4]

I’ve been thinking (surprising, really)

And I’ve come to the conclusion that Bildad the Shuhite and Nanny Ashtoreth give off the same vibe on very different ends of the spectrum

It’s like:

If you don’t like you don’t deserve

me at my me at my

1827 Edinburgh Crowley is in the center of it all

Something like this

*vine boom* girlhood is a spectrum.