Can We Talk About How Even Though Sam's Got A Good Few Inches On Dean He Still Squishes His Face Into

Back when they had to turn on the tv manually instead of trampling the remote. Photo from my collection, no date/info.

Logan who slowly lets himself slip into his animalistic traits once he’s dating Wade and feels safe. And knows nothing will put Wade off. Logan who purrs while he’s eating a good meal, who purrs to self-sooth, who purrs while laying in Wade’s lap.

Logan who gently bunts his head to Wade’s in the morning, or when he’s greeting him. Logan who rolls over on to their back to show his sense of security, and playfully smacks Wade’s hands away when he goes to give him belly rub until he lets himself accept them.

Logan who gives Wade a few loving licks to his hands, neck and face.

Wade who play fights with Logan, and understands that because of their predator-prey instincts Logan will oscillate between acting aggressive and acting submissive, and he adapts accordingly. Logan gets what Wade calls the ‘zoomies’ which when he wants to play fight with Wade, and Wade always knows cos he looks at him with wide, slow blinking eyes and he gives him a playful bow, think puppy pose in yoga.

Wade who only lightly teases him on the stuff that aren’t to with his traits and finds it funny that Logan loves morning walks with him as much as Puppins, and the he’s always putting the lead on Puppins and they always get coffee for them and a puppuccino for Puppins. He calls it walk and treat time.

Wade who doesn’t mind that Logan clings to his side at the parties he throws and hides in Al’s bedroom when it gets overwhelming.

Logan who has a big stretch every morning, where his claws come out as he stretches.

damian and batcow

Boyfriend!Frank is NOT Pleased With Your Choice to Diet.

Girlies -- just read and be healed. Trust me.

Boyfriend!Frank x Reader

Word Count: 1,370

“Eat,” he says, sliding the burger and fries in front of you on the table.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna, like, scold me about it?” you ask.

“That’s it. Eat,” he replies and slides into the booth across from you.

And so you did, glancing at him tentatively every few minutes, the meal quietly tense. But you'll be damned if he wasn't right. The burger coated your ribs, it's protein-packed patty satisfying you so thoroughly that your headache instantly dissipated and your blood sugar evened out. With every bite you feel your energy restored, your stomach nearly like a bottomless pit.

Near bursting, you push the plate a fews inches away from you and lean back, taking a final sip of your icy Coke. Frank has been done for a few minutes, always just inhaling food quickly and quietly, and has his arms folded across his chest, his huge form smashed into a tiny booth, as he observes you.

You meet his eyes and will yourself not to look away from his glare.

"Don't" you say to him. He shrugs his hulky shoulders, his lips pressed into a straight line, his eyes still locked to yours.

"Because you don't know how it is. I'm trying my best, ok?" you add, now growing more alarmed at his silence than his presumed scolding. His face remains unreadable, the tendons in his forearms flexing as he repositions himself in the booth slightly.

"And by the way its not that serious. Trust me, I eat plenty. That's sorta the whole problem" you continue, almost willing his angry rant to just come already. His eye contact is unflinching, even as a fork clatters to the ground from a nearby table.

"It's not like it was on purpose. I just didn't plan right." you explain, your mouth just yammering in the silence. Your fingers fiddle with the napkin as you roll it into a tight coil. At his silence, you roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

And it's true. You didn't plan to wait too long too eat and give yourself a pounding headache. You didn't plan to wait 7 hours between two hard boiled eggs and your next meal. You didn't plan to nearly pass out at the store.

But the other part, the part Frank is actually mad about, you did plan. You did plan your incredibly calorie-restrictive diet-- the one that's barely enough food for a toddler. You did plan to basically starve yourself for about 4 weeks to fit into the dress you bought for that wedding. You did plan to hate your fucking body so much that you were willing to neglect it and starve in the name of being smaller. Existing less.

And so when you attempted to order a side salad for a whole-ass meal, after very nearly passing out at the store alongside Frank, after not eating more than 2 eggs in 7 hours, after being nearly in tears from the headache tearing through your skull, after complaining the Advil you took on an empty stomach was making you nauseous, Frank was... displeased.

He'd immediately grumbled a "Nah, fuck that, no fucking salads" and you'd looked at him with your mouth agape, beginning to interject but he'd stopped you with "Non-negotiable. Go sit in the fucking booth sweetheart and you'll eat what I order you." You blinked incredulously before grabbing your purse and storming to the booth, sliding in with a huff.

One cheeseburger and a large fries later and you assumed you were in for it. You prepared yourself for the Frank ranting that didn't come.

"You done?" he asks plainly, his face unimpressed with your excuses.

"Yeah I'm done," you reply petulantly, feeling like a teenager having a tantrum.

Frank stuffs his keys in his pocket and grabs the greasy bag to toss in the trash. You scramble out of the booth to follow him back to the car, Frank holding the door open for you to exit and opening your car door while you climbed in. The ride home mimics the meal, tense silence as Frank stares ahead with squinted eyes.

As you arrive home, Frank puts the car in park and you waste no time hopping out the passenger door and towards the apartment complex, eager to slither out of the awkward silence. Despite the tension, Frank is still a gentleman, reaching for the grocery bags you were attempting to haul from the trunk, murmuring "I got it sweetheart," and sending you into the building.

Shortly after Frank places the bags on the counter, you reach to begin unloading the groceries but Frank's hand lands on yours, stopping you before he laces one hand around your waist and the other cupping your jaw, his wrist shifting slightly to tilt your face up towards his before he envelops you in a kiss so tender that you nearly lose your breath. He's slow, deliberate-- his lips grazing yours before you feel the firm press of him as his tongue twines around yours. You allow yourself to melt into his hold, his fingers traveling into the hair at the nape of your neck.

When he stops, you steady your breathing, his face still inches from yours, and ask, "Frank, what are you doing?" You didn't object to his affection but his tenderness was unexpected.

"Apologizing," he responds, his hand still cradling your head.

"Apologizing?" you stutter out, an apology the last thing you expected.

"Yeah. Apologizing," he confirms, brushing his thumb along your jaw. "Way I see it, if I ever gave you the impression that I didn't love your body exactly the way it is, that's on me," he adds.

"Frank it's not--" you start but he interrupts with "Lemme finish sweetheart. I'm not doing my job if you don't feel fuckin' gorgeous every day. Fuck sweetheart, I think about you all damn day. I dream about you and you're layin' right next to me for God's sake. And if you don't know that, I fucked up," he adds, his sincerity enough to nearly break your heart. You feel his hand squeeze your waist.

"Frank, its... you're not," you start, stumbling over your words, the topic so complicated and loaded. You take a deep breath and start again, "The way I feel about my body is the sum of years and years of feeling inadequate and social pressure and unkind words from people who were supposed to love me. You have healed me in so many ways Frank. But this wound is deep. Sometimes it reopens."

"S'my job to take care of you though sweetheart" Frank replies, ever the protector. He could take fix anything, he was certain, at least that's what he told himself. Surely he could fix this. He would just love you harder and louder.

"Frankie you do," you reassure him, standing on tip toes to kiss him again. He reciprocates, again tugging you closer and kissing you in a way that felt like he was trying to heal you. When he pulls away again, his brows have returned to their natural furrow and you know he's got something else on his mind.

"Ok out with it," you prompt him, still locked in his arms and trapped between him and the counter.

"Yeah, the other thing is sweetheart, I don't like when someone treats my girl bad. Even when you're doin' it to yourself," he states plainly, the scolding you expected finally coming to fruition.

"I told you, I wasn't try--"

"Nah, nah. I don't want the excuses doll. You're starvin' yourself," he retorts. You can't quite manage to look him in eye at the accusation. He isn't entirely wrong. In fact he's entirely right. That was sorta the whole idea.

"Yeah, so you gotta cut that shit out. You deserve to eat food when you're hungry. Don't make ask it again and you sure as hell better make sure I don't catch ya' doing it," he adds, his word on the topic final. You nod, feeling near instant relief at the thought of not dieting. You had been miserable for weeks.

"Unfortunately, you gotta learn a lesson though honey," he says with a smack to your ass as he hoists you over his shoulder and stomps to the bedroom.

fuck infantilized cas, there needs to be more weird castiel content. castiel who’s a little fucked up and unintentionally unsettling. who doesn’t blink or break eye contact. who just stares at roadkill and dead bodies they come across on hunts. give me castiel with repressed sexuality that starts expressing itself in strange ways. give me perverts by ethel cain. give me pulldrone.

he’s viewing the human experience from an unbiased standpoint. he’s a 4 dimensional being stuffed into a 3 dimensional body. he is older than humanity as a whole. Why don’t you guys make him weird?

Hi I have mm thoughts like imagine having a kid with Matt and your worried how it will change your body but infact it just makes him love you more like your feeding your guys kid ? He wants to be there loves feeling you up even more need to pump for later ? He ain’t complaining

Also if it isn’t already taken I would love to be 🦋anon 😊

NEW EMOJI FRIEND! i believe someone has claimed 🦋, would you like to claim a different emoji (or multiple)? nicknames are ok as well!

maybe i'm ovulating, but you got me deep into dad!matt feels:

oh my god okay so imagine matt murdock as a husband and dad.

you're worried about how your body's changing, but to him? it just makes him fall in love with you more. you’re carrying his kid, feeding them—he’s in awe of it. he’ll rest his hand on your stomach, tracing his fingers over every little curve, whispering how incredible you are, how much stronger, more beautiful you've become.

and when you’re pumping? he’s right there. nothing but support, hands still gently resting on you, maybe teasing with that smirk of his. he’d joke about being jealous of the bottle but would also be dead serious about helping however he can. "don’t worry, sweetheart, i’ll take care of this later," in that playful yet sincere tone.

then there’s matt with the baby, lying on his chest, tiny hands tugging at his glasses while he chuckles, that crooked smile breaking through as his eyes soften. "guess they’re taking after me already, grabbing things they can’t see," he murmurs, voice thick with affection. he’s smiling the whole time, completely wrapped up in the little miracle you both created, his vulnerability showing in the way he holds them just a bit tighter, like he can hardly believe this is real.

he’s still matt murdock, though—always thinking ahead, always ready to protect, but softer now. he’s got one ear on the baby, the other on the world outside, but right there, in that moment? it’s all about you and them. just the three of you, and him never wanting to be anywhere else.

forget the baby monitor—matt is the baby monitor. he hears everything. every tiny breath, every little coo. you'll wake up in the middle of the night, maybe panicked that something's wrong, and he’ll already be halfway across the room, whispering, “they’re just stirring, sweetheart. go back to sleep.”

no need for gadgets when you’ve got matt murdock with those insane dad reflexes. you’ll be sitting on the couch, and suddenly, the baby tips over while trying to crawl, and before you can even react, matt’s already caught them mid-air, all casual like it’s no big deal. "gotcha, kiddo," he’ll say with that teasing grin, acting like he didn't have superhuman reflexes in that moment.

"how do you know they're about to cry?" you’ll ask one day with an eyebrow raised, and he’ll lean in close, smirking, "i can hear their heart race before the tears even come." or when you’re about to check if the baby’s too warm, he’ll casually slide in with, "not a fever, just working up to a diaper change."

and the baby? loves grabbing onto him. they’ll tug at his hair or smack at his chest, and he just lets them, totally patient, playful, letting them explore him like he's their favorite jungle gym. "strong hands," he’ll tease with a grin, "just like their mom." and you’ll gasp and swat at him.

and then there’s the moments where you’re not even aware, but matt? he’s got you both clocked—whether it’s catching the baby from rolling off the bed or knowing exactly when you need an extra hand without you having to say a word. "you know," he’ll say softly, wrapping an arm around you. "i hear you too, sweetheart. every breath, every heartbeat. i’ve got you—let me take care of both of you."

he’s so in tune with everything, it’s almost like magic. but it’s just matt—hyper-aware, always ahead of the game, being both the city's greatest protector and this ridiculously loving, protective dad who somehow knows what the baby needs before they even do. and you? he knows you just as well, maybe even better, appreciating every bit of who you are, body and soul.

masterlist | share your mm thoughts

Thinking about Logan with a reader who teaches the youngest mutants at the school. I’m talking about kindergarteners, so if you don't like kids, click off now. This is also purely self indulgent because I teach kindergarten

Anyways can you imagine his reaction when he first meets you? Sweet little thing, bright eyed, wide smile, with brightly patterned dresses and tops and skirts? He wants to ruin you. 

And don't get me started on how he feels when he SEES you interacting with your students. He’s so far gone it isn’t even funny. Seeing you deal with scraped knees, kissing them better, playing with the kids, running from them in some silly game, laughing, cheeks flushed and what the HELL is wrong with him? He’s the big bad Wolverine, but you, with your bright smiles and hopeful eyes and soft, calming voice, have him weak in the knees. 

Plus his breeding kink goes into overdrive, imagining how good you’d look with HIS kid in your arms specifically. 

But holy shit, when you two have been dating a while and you let him sit in on your classes this man is the biggest teddy bear you’ll ever see. Patiently colouring with one kid, while another naps in his lap. Your ovaries will explode, You will get baby fever, There is no escape. 

And the kids LOVE him, asking when Mr Logan is coming back, if he’ll take them on a ride on his motorcycle, if he can come again tomorrow. 

He’ll walk you to your classroom door, press a soft kiss to your mouth (ignoring the EWWW’s from any early students) and leave you with a see you later.

boyfriend (aka insecure reader x bsf jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: where the reader has a terrible boyfriend and always ends up crying about him to her best friend, jason todd, or, where jason finally gets tired of seeing his girl being mistreated and does something about it.

a/n: i know i kinda say pretty much the same thing here, but these two are really cute, okay? i was like giggling and kicking while writing it, hope you guys love it. english is not my first language, also, feel free to send requests!

At 8pm, on your birthday, the day that was supposed to be about you, for you, where you were supposed to be going out and partying, you were curled up on the couch, wearing a sweatshirt three sizes too big for you, after the worst fight you've ever had with your boyfriend.

Your hand wrapped around your phone as you dialed the number of the only person who would understand you, who always did, your best friend, Jason. Your voice sounded tearful on the phone as you almost begged him to come to your apartment, you didn't have to say much, or wait long, before he shows up at your frontdoor.

As you wiped the tears away from your face and dragged yourself to open the door, trying to force a smile on your face, as he pulled you into his arms, before you could even say anything. "You need to break up with that asshole, you know that, right?"

Your voice sounds like a whisper against his chest as he softly guides you into the apartment, with you still clinging to him. "He already did it, he broke up with me, because he's seeing someone else" Your voice barely comes out, the tears running down your pretty face again, and Jason feels his blood boil, as if that asshole wasn't enough of a jerk to you.

With a quick look around the apartment he was able to catch the signs from the fight, the shards of glass on the floor, the broken flower vase, besides the complete mess that the apartment was in, your boyfriend was never exactly a controlled person.

"He doesn't deserve you, he never did," he whispers against her hair as he sits the two of you on the couch, which by some miracle, was in perfect condition, and he hears her whimper against him. "What if the problem is me? What if I wasn't interesting enough, or pretty enough-" His eyebrows furrowed together in the purest expression of disbelief before he shuts you up. "Honey, I'm sorry, but shut up, are you even listening to yourself? You're doubting of the best person I know for some asshole who didn't know how to value the fucking treasure he had."

Your eyes, shining with tears, stare into his, without any words to express how you felt. Jason hated your boyfriend, he always did, and with a good reason, he always treated you as if you were less than him, and you accepted it, because he made you believe that you were less.

Your eyebrows furrowed in doubt slightly, your body moving away from his a little so you could finally look properly at him.

"I would never leave you crying alone on your own birthday for the God's sake, or leave you alond at a party at two am for someone else to take you home." He grabs your hands, an almost pleading look in his eyes, and there it was, you finally understand, all the hate directed at your boyfriend, is because he knew exactly how you should be treated, he knew exactly how to treat you.

Your eyes were shining with something different than tears this time, affection, as your head slowly tilted to the side, absorbing the information. "I could be a better boyfriend than him, come on, I doubt that idiot knows that you only drink tea with cream and a ton of sugar? That you bake cookies to the children at the shelter, so they can feel loved?" He shook his head, he wouldn't let the guy who left you crying on your own birthday after telling you he cheated on you go unpunished, but that was a story for later, for when you understand that everything you ever needed was right there.

"Shut up, I love you," she says with the most genuine, silly smile she had in weeks, maybe months, before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a heated, well-deserved kiss.

"I've loved you since the day I saw you eating snow when you were six, Jay, I guess I just never thought it was mutual." He smirked, rolling his eyes, his arms keeping her wrapped around him. "I saw you having a crush on Edward Cullen when you were thirteen, do you really think I would still be here if I didn't love you?" You laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"Shut up and kiss me."