I Miss My Loverman

NSFW - MDNI - Reader is MALE

I was thinking about horny!Logan who went too much time without your touch and was on the verge of a sexual nervous touch down. Blame all the villains or rampaging mutants who caused problems all the damn day or night.

Thinking about horny!Logan who, instead of sleeping, hugged his pillow anf bit down on it (I headcanon that he bites a lot during it) staining it with saliva and growls. You were exausted after all the day of flying around in the jet to aolve issues here and there.

Thinking about horny!Logan who tried to get himself off but just couldn't since he was always riding you out and that caused him to not be able to pleasure himself fully (not that he minded).

Thinking about horny!Logan who just couldn't take it anymore and straight up took you away from the kitchen, were you were eating some rosemary beef and dragged you into his room. He shoved you on his bed and climbed up your form biting harshly on your neck.

"Logan- fuck what the hell?!" you struggled to the heavy man of your neck, his fangs were still connected to your love bites by a string of warm saliva.

"Shut it and just stay put bub" he growled as he tossed away his jacket and sat astride, grinding firmly on your crotch.

He smirked as you planted your veiny hands on his sides and then propped yourself on your elbows.

"You have never been one for words Logan" you arched an eyebrow and smirked as your hands snaked up his torso on the tight shirt he was wearing.

"What do you really want sweetheart?" you chirped in a smug way, he was glaring at you, he never liked pet names being given to him.

He didn't spoke, he wasn't one for words and so he grinded down on your clothed crotch.

"That's what I want, make me ride you and we'll be good".

🤏🐸💚.

It's Mr. Sunshine!! ❤🧡💛

cody my beloved 🧡🧡🧡

Reblog if you've ever cried over the death of a fictional character

we’ve all watched the scene of logan putting out the cigar on himself and it got me thinking about him with a reader whose mutation allows them to burn people. (he’s such a freak i need him).

-

he’s a squirming, whimpering mess underneath you. such a gorgeous sight, and one that only you get to witness - the big, bad wolverine turned into a moaning mess through the use of your power, completely at your mercy, his hands tied so he couldn’t fight you off even if he’d wanted to (not that he ever would).

you were anxious to try this. your power wasn’t one that could be used for good. it only ever caused pain, suffering, family and friends leaving you once it had manifested, spitting out words that felt like venom. you burn people when you touch them, like fire licking over their skin, making them cry and scream and beg for mercy. 

you have gloves of every colour of the rainbow, an array of different fabrics and patterns and textures, pairing them with your outfit every day. you hate touching people, hate hurting them.

but logan has a thing for pain. he’d admitted it to you, under the cover of a dark and cloudy sky, when you’d asked him how he could possibly stand to be with you when you’d never be able to touch him, never be able to kiss him without hurting him.

he’d begged you, actually begged you to touch him, to burn him, to hurt him.

for the first time ever you can touch someone without a layer of fabric in between. you can drag your fingers along his thighs and watch the red burn marks it leaves behind, watch the colour fade and the texture smooth over as his body heals itself. it’s like he was made for you, a perfect match, both with cracked and broken edges, but somehow you fit.

“fuckin’ touch me,” he spits, “c’mon.”

“i am touching you,” you reply, pressing your hand down onto his hairy chest. his skin is warm, slightly damp from a thin layer of sweat, alive and real. he cries out, but it’s not the sound you’re used to hearing when you touch people. it’s a whine, higher than you thought his voice could go, pain and pleasure mixing into something he hadn’t been able to describe to you in words.

“y’know what i mean,” he pants. you just smile, serene. you’re not teasing him on purpose, though you must admit it’s certainly entertaining to watch him fall apart, rather you’re taking the opportunity you thought you’d never get, exploring your lover's body with your touch, breathless at the feeling of skin against skin.

you finally grab his cock, feeling the thick, warm weight of it in your hand. you can feel the telltale buzzing under your skin, the sign that your powers are burning him, but he doesn’t try to pull away from you. rather, his hips jerk up, chasing more of the feeling. a bead of precum pearls at the tip, and you rub it down his shaft.

“you actually like this,” you muse, “you’re such a freak.”

the degrading comment only makes him groan, rutting his hips up to fuck into your fist. and he’s just so pretty, so lovely when he’s desperate, so as much as you want to play with him, spend hours making him beg, you don’t. because you need to see what he looks like when he’s falling apart.

you jerk him off slow, never letting the pressure relent. it’s a fight with your instincts, your mind telling you to let go before you hurt him, before he decides that he doesn’t actually like this, before he leaves like everyone else. but he heals as fast as you burn him, again and again.

you watch his face instead of your hand, focusing on the way his lips part with each sound he makes, the pleasure contorting his expression. he gets louder, warnings filling the space between you, and then his hips stutter, faltering, and you watch his eyes roll back as he cums, shooting thick ropes of white all over his own chest.

your eyes widen slightly at how quickly you’d made him cum, but he’s already hardening again in your hand, chasing the pleasure of his orgasm even as it fades.

“do it again,” he orders, though really he’s in no position to be making demands. still, you oblige, because it feels good to be able to hurt him and know he’ll always come back. you could definitely get used to this, and isn’t that a terrifying thought.

shoutout to boring queer people who don’t do shit. just go to work or school and then come home to watch shows. while gay

Tender Times

⚠18+ [Suggestive] Themes, [Frank Castle × Male Reader × Matt Murdock]

Minors, Ageless/Blank Blogs DNI

﹂Contains: Requested*, polygamous/throuple, two subs one top, domestic life, mentions of blood, fluff with a dash of spice

First thing in the morning a freshly brewed cup of coffee to jumpstart the day, followed by a pair of arms circling him from behind.

Matt's taken to getting up a few minutes earlier to spend them with you. Most of the times being when he ends up crashing at your place rather than his, he sometimes tends to oversleep after his nightly escapades.

Some nights he doesn't get much sleep with how you keep him up. He can still feel the lingering touches on his skin— the smell of you surrounding him, driving him crazy with desire.

If he didn't need to work today, he's sure he would have already dragged you back into bed. Let you have your way with him until all his senses were overwhelmed.

There's already a fresh set of clothes waiting for him, you help him get dressed— despite knowing he's fully capable. You just use it as an excuse to keep your hands on him for a few moments more before he has to head out for work.

"Want me to drop by for lunch?" Foggy and Kate have seen you before, though they're not entirely sure what your relationship with Matt is. They speculate that you're an old friend, one before his college days where he studied law with Foggy. It's not far off but there's more than meets the eye.

"We have a full schedule. So maybe dinner would be better?" He doesn't mind eating later than usual, as long as he gets to share a meal with you in the end. "Alright, go on and get to work then, Matty."

You obviously don't buy his whole blind act anymore since he's much too aware of his surroundings— that and you found out his little secret after a slip up. So you know more than you let on.

The side of his mouth lifts into a smile, "I'll be careful, don't worry." He steals a kiss, purposely missing your cheek and landing it on your lips.

You see him off with a small smile of your own, watching how his form blends into the bustle and hustle of the overcrowded city. It's not even half and hour before you hear a loud crash from the backdoor.

"Ah, look at you all bloody and bruised again, Frank." While it's become more often than usual, you don't turn him away or scold him too harshly. "It's not even Tuesday yet."

He doesn't even respond, just grunts and plops down onto a chair. His muscles are tense that much you can discern right away— other than the scattered scrapes and bruisings.

With a quiet sigh and a trip to the restroom for the kit, you place it down nearby and start working on his injuries. It's times likes these remind you of how vulnerable he truly is.

The subtle longing in his eyes as he leans into your hands as they disinfect a small cut on his cheek. Lips slightly parted when you ever-so-gently thumb his busted lip with a dollop of salve. He's gone soft on you. Hardly glares or bites at you for tending to him like this.

Once it's all said and done he looks up at you expectantly— lips quirked into a sly grin. Frank knows you're not going to chastise him like Matt does, he simply waits for his little reward as you lean down to kiss his wounded lips. However, it never comes which makes him frown.

Just as he was going to make a complaint there's a knock at the door— there goes his alone time with you.

As if.

His hand shoots out to grasp your wrist and tugs you down to him. "It's probably just the neighbor asking for sugar again," he mutters with a huff, face inches from your shoulder. "You're going to stay, right?" That sounded less like a question and more like a demand— a plea.

You keep him grounded, keep his ducks in a row so he doesn't go out and spill more blood. He is, still after all, a wanted man under the eyes of the law. It's your job now to stop him from getting into anymore problems.

And Frank knew you'd give in, the palms of your hands cradling his beaten face was conformation enough to know. Cheeky, you'd call him if he wasn't so coy.

Seems like you'll have to reschedule any errands you had planned. You're going to have your hands full keeping the Punisher entertained— and he's more than excited to have you all to himself.

Tocka-irbis © 2025 —Please -do not steal, translate, modify, repost on other platforms.

The Dancing King👑

PEDRO PASCAL  dancing on the set of THE LAST OF US

Heyy could you maybe write another fives x platonic reader your stories are so good I binge read all of them

Wooo I love when I see you all binge reading on my posts!

“Keep your head up”

Read here on ao3: (✩)

Summary: After being rescued from some seppies Fives try’s to help you accept and love your newly acquired scars

Paring: Fives x GN padawan reader (Yes everyone it is PLATONIC)

Warning: Mentions of scars and injuries. Insecurity’s but Fives will make it all better

Word count: 713- and be so proud because I actually proof read

Notes: Don’t worry this is just a hold me over, an appetizer if you will, for a longer fic I plan to write later. Also there could be a part 2 to this with Alpha-17 maybe if your interested

He watched as the rest of his brothers started to exit the ship for their quick supply run on the rainy planet of Kamino, however Fives hung back with a quick nod from his general.

Rain pounded all around him as Fives waited for a moment before he saw your figure walking towards him, you made your way over to him a limp still present in your strides.

Fives or Rex normally volunteered to wait for you since it’s been a slow recovery since your last encounter with the separatist. With much begging Anakin finally let you come back with them on this mission.

And so far Fives could safely say that senators were dicks.

“You ok sir?” Fives asked as you came to a stop next to him.

You gave a small ‘Mhm’ as you kept your gaze trained to your boots. You’ve been getting a lot of that lately and you just wished thing were like they use to be.

Fives planted a firm hand on your shoulder making you glance up for a moment, he wouldn’t say anything but he could tell something was up.

His gloved hand traced over the raise red skin on your face, the stitches helped stop the bleeding but it still looked irritated and gnarly.

“I mean did you see what that senator was wearing? He couldn’t even talk.” Fives quietly spoke to you. You let out a small laugh and rolled your eyes.

“He did look stupid.” You thought back to a few hours ago.

Fives was taken aback almost with the searing white flurry of rage he felt in that moment when a senator made a comment about his commander. His vod’ika. About their appearance.

He looked over to where Jesse was stationed next to him, one of his hands were held in tight fists while the other hovered just over his blaster.

Rex took a step closer to you. If looks could kill the senator would be long gone from all of the men present. Fives didn’t need the force to sense that everyone was livid and Anakin was ready to explode.

“What if people are scared, what if those cadets don’t like me?” Your small question brought him back to reality.

Fives let out a small laugh of his own as you looked at him with wide eyes. Oh how he wished he could erase all the doubt from your mind.

“First off kriff what they think.” Fives brought your face into his hands being carful not to hurt you. His tone became serious and you listened closely.

“Second of all do you know how much respect you’ll get from all those men in there? You saved some of their brothers by getting those scars and your not a shiny nat-born now. Alpha-17 is going to go crazy because that’s what he wants to see in the brothers he trains.” Fives smiled at you as he wiped a tear.

“And it makes you look like a total badass.” He added

You laughed now wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your robe. The pair started to walk off of the ship and through the hanger.

“You think so?” You still spoke unsure.

“Oh of course, I mean you look way more intimidating now. Kinda like Wolffe.” Fives thought about his older brother and commander for the 104th. A shiver shot down his spine.

“I do don’t I.” You looked up to Fives with a smile on your face, a smile he hasn’t seen since the days before that mission. It felt like lifetime ago.

“Just keep your head up.” Fives lightly tapped the underside of your chin. “Everyone’s going to be blown away. Your one of the most skilled people I know. And if they are hooked up on this,” He gestured. “Then clearly they aren’t looking hard enough at you.”

You and Fives walked side by side into the stark white halls of Kamino. The pride he felt for you was through the roof, the familiar bounce in your step returned as met up with the others.

You knew you had Fives and all the other men to make sure you were all right. A personal posse of hype-men at your deposal, and you were forever grateful.

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