#yeah sure that’s what I’ll tag these as

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[rafedarling]

𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐭

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader

summary: drew appears on the late late show with james corden to play the infamous game ‘spill your guts or fill your guts’. little does he know, you had previously been on the show and specifically requested he be invited.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mild language, secondhand embarrassment, extreme cheesiness and boyfriend material overload.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @issabellec7

based on this request

“Alright, Drew,” James started, rubbing his hands together.

“First of all, welcome! We are so happy to have you here.”

“Thank you, man, I appreciate it,” Drew said, shifting in his seat.

“Though I gotta say, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

James let out a dramatic laugh.

“As you should! Because, as you saw, your lovely girlfriend Y/N was here not too long ago. And guess what? She personally requested you to be here tonight!”

Drew groaned playfully, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, I knew it!”

“And,” James continued, “she also made sure we included dark chocolate, which I assume is some kind of inside joke?”

Drew exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

“Yeah, uh, I hates dark chocolate. Like, passionately. So this is definitely her way of messing with me.”

“Well, my friend, she succeeded!” James laughed.

“Now, let’s get started! First up…”

He gestured toward the table, dramatically lifting the first lid.

James scrunched his nose.

“Oh, this smells absolutely disgusting. So, Drew, here’s your first question: What is the most annoying habit Y/N has that drives you crazy?”

The crowd gasped playfully. Drew tilted his head back, laughing.

“Oh man, I can already hear her reaction to this.”

“Would you like a bite of pickled pig’s feet instead?”

James wiggled his eyebrows.

Drew shook his head.

“No, no, I’ll answer. Uh… okay, Y/N is literally the most perfect human, but if I had to say something…”

He exhaled dramatically.

“She never puts the cap back on the toothpaste. And she squeezes it from the middle instead of the bottom, and it kills me.”

The audience burst into laughter.

“That is valid,” James agreed.

“She’s an amazing actress, but a toothpaste menace.”

James pulled out a glass filled with a murky, grayish-green liquid.

“This is a sardine smoothie. And your question is: What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for Y/N that she doesn’t even know about?”

Drew winced at the drink.

“That looks awful.”

“It is awful,” James confirmed. “So spill it.”

Drew thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Okay. There was this one time when Y/N had a bad day she didn’t say anything, but I could tell. She had this childhood book she lost years ago, so I spent weeks tracking down a first-edition copy. I left it on her nightstand with a note, but I never told her it was me.”

The audience awed loudly.

James clutched his chest.

“That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life!”

Drew shrugged, grinning. “I just love making her happy.”

James lifted the lid, revealing a large, slimy cow tongue. Drew grimaced.

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Then answer this,” James smirked.

“Out of all of Y/N’s past on-screen romantic co-stars, who do you think had the best chemistry with her?”

Drew’s jaw dropped as the audience gasped. “Oh, come on!”

“Answer, or it’s cow tongue time!”

Drew groaned.

“Fine. If I’m being honest… I hated watching her with Jake Gyllenhaal. They just had way too much chemistry, and it made me so jealous.”

James burst into laughter.

“You paused the movie, didn’t you?”

Drew sighed. “Paused it. Left the room. Came back an hour later and still wasn’t over it.”

James lifted the plate.

“Drew, Y/N personally requested the chocolate, but we added wasabi. Your question: What’s the cheesiest thing you say to Y/N in private that you would never say in public?”

Drew groaned.

“Oh no. Nope. I refuse to expose myself like this.”

“You sure?” James taunted.

Drew sighed. “Fine. I call her ‘my little sunshine bean.’”

James lost it. “SUNSHINE BEAN?!”

Drew buried his face in his hands. “I knew this was a mistake!”

James wiped his tears.

“Alright, last one. You have to call Y/N and let her ask you a question. Answer, or take a bite of fermented tofu.”

Drew sighed dramatically before dialing your number.

“Drew?” your voice filled the studio. “Are you on Spill Your Guts?”

The crowd cheered.

“Yeah, baby, I am. And James is making me call you.”

You giggled. “Okay… If you had to get a giant tattoo of my face anywhere, where would you put it?”

Drew groaned as James cackled.

“Fine! I’d put it on my ribs. Right over my heart, happy now?”

You gasped dramatically. “That was actually a really good answer.”

James smirked. “What’s a role you regret turning down or missing out on?”

Drew sighed. “I was this close to being in a Western movie, and I regret not pushing harder for it.”

James lifted the bowl. “If you could travel anywhere right now, where would it be?”

Drew smiled. “Greece. I wanna take Y/N and just disappear on an island for a month.”

James leaned in. “What’s your dream project?”

Drew grinned. “Something I can do with Y/N. Whether it’s a rom-com or an action movie, I just wanna work with her.”

James clapped his hands.

“Drew, you survived!”

Drew blew a kiss to the camera.

“I did it for you, baby!”

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ dancing with our hands tied

chapter summary: After helping a young boy, you and Logan talk about trying again.

word count: 10.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm pretty sure that like half of this is smut so enjoy it y'all

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, slight angst, talks of trying for a baby, smut, oral (f&m!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, shower sex

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8

Logan took you into town after you said you wanted to try the new bakery that just opened up. You had mentioned it offhand a few days ago, and true to his nature, Logan didn’t forget. The smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries hit as soon as you opened the bakery door, a small bell jingling to announce your arrival.

It wasn’t overly crowded, but it was clear the bakery was already a hit. The cozy little space was dotted with people sipping coffee and chatting softly over plates of desserts. You adjusted your glasses, scanning the menu. Logan stood behind you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as you debated between the chocolate croissant and the cherry tart.

"Why not both?" Logan murmured, leaning down so his gruff voice was low and close to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him a soft look. "I’ll never finish both."

"I will," he said with a shrug, making you smile despite yourself.

With a soft laugh, you turned back to the counter, placing an order for both with tea for yourself and coffee for Logan. As the barista rang you up, you stepped aside to wait. You didn’t immediately notice the little boy lingering near the door until he spoke.

"Excuse me," he said in a tiny, trembling voice.

You turned to see him standing there, his wide brown eyes full of uncertainty. He couldn’t have been more than five. His clothes were neat but slightly wrinkled, and he clutched a little Star Wars backpack to his chest like a lifeline.

"Hi there," you said gently, crouching down so you were closer to his level. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "I c-can’t find my aunt and uncle," he stammered. "They were here, and then I… I couldn’t see them anymore."

Logan was at your side in an instant, his tall, broad frame towering over both of you. Despite his intimidating presence, his voice was calm and steady. "Hey, kiddo. What’s your name?"

"Peter," the boy whispered, sniffling.

You gave Peter a kind smile. "Okay, Peter, my name’s Y/N, and this is Logan. We’re going to help you find them, alright?"

Peter nodded, his grip on his backpack tightening. You straightened up, glancing at Logan. "Should we check inside the other stores? Maybe they didn’t realize he got separated."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. Let’s start close by."

For the next twenty minutes, you and Logan moved between shops, asking employees and passersby if they’d seen anyone searching for a lost child. Peter clung to your hand the entire time, his little fingers wrapped tightly around yours.

When it became clear his aunt and uncle weren’t nearby, you crouched down again to look him in the eyes. "Peter, do you remember their phone number? Or maybe where they were parked?"

He shook his head, biting his lip. "No. I don’t remember. Are they mad at me?"

"Not at all," you assured him quickly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Sometimes these things just happen. We’ll figure it out."

"We can call the cops, get them to put out a message," Logan suggested softly, leaning on the wall beside you.

You hesitated, noting how small and nervous Peter looked at the mention of police. Something about the idea didn’t sit right with you either. "Let’s try one more thing," you said. "Peter, do you want to come with us for a little while? We can go to a safe place until we find your aunt and uncle."

Peter’s gaze flicked between you and Logan. After a long pause, he nodded, his lower lip quivering again. "Okay."

Logan reached down, easily scooping Peter up and settling him on his hip. The boy’s small hands clung to Logan’s jacket as you both headed back to the car. On the way to the mansion, Peter’s initial shyness melted away just a little. You kept him distracted with stories about your favorite bakery treats and promises to show him your time bubble powers when you got home.

---

When you arrived at the mansion, Peter stared wide-eyed at the enormous house. "Whoa," he whispered, twisting to look at you. "Do you live here?"

"Yep," you said, taking his hand to guide him toward the entrance. "It’s like a big school. But it’s also kind of like one giant family."

"And you’re a teacher?" Peter asked, glancing curiously at your glasses.

"That’s right," you said with a small smile. "I teach physics. That’s like science and math together."

“Oh, I like physics! And I watch Star Wars with my Uncle Ben all the time!” Peter said, his eyes lighting up for the first time since you met him.

Your heart softened at the boy’s excitement, a smile creeping across your face despite the weight of the past few months. “Yeah? What’s your favorite part?”

Peter adjusted his little Iron Man backpack and said without hesitation, “When Luke fights Darth Vader, and then—then at the end, he saves his dad!” He blinked up at you eagerly. “Do you like Star Wars?”

“Like it?” you said with a mock gasp, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. “I love Star Wars. Especially Empire Strikes Back. Do you know that one?”

Peter nodded, practically bouncing in place. “That’s the one with the snow! And Yoda! But the Darth Vader part was scary.”

Logan, who had been quiet while Peter rambled, glanced at you with an amused smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a little fan,” he murmured.

You nudged Logan gently with your elbow before returning your attention to Peter. “It is a little scary,” you admitted. “But that’s what makes it so good—it surprises you. And Darth Vader turning good later? That’s pretty amazing too.”

Peter nodded sagely, as if your approval was the only confirmation he needed. He glanced toward the enormous doors of the mansion again. “Do you have any Star Wars stuff in there?”

Before you could answer, Logan chuckled. “Darlin’, don’t even get him started, or you’re gonna have him camped out in your lecture hall for the next week.”

You shot Logan a teasing glare but ruffled Peter’s hair. “Actually, I’ve got some posters and a little Yoda figure on my desk. Want to see?”

Peter’s face brightened. “Yes, please!”

The boy’s newfound enthusiasm made your chest tighten in an unexpectedly familiar way. You led the way into the mansion, Logan trailing closely behind as Peter’s little hand stayed tightly clasped in yours.

---

Once inside, Peter was immediately wide-eyed, craning his neck to take in the grand ceilings and marble floors. “This place is huge,” he whispered in awe.

“It is,” you agreed. “But you’ll get used to it fast.”

As you moved toward your office, Logan leaned in and asked quietly, “you sure this is the best way to handle this, sweetheart?”

You glanced at Peter, who was now marveling at a painting on the wall. His little hand hadn’t let go of yours once since you’d found him. “He’s scared,” you whispered back. “This helps distract him until we can figure everything out.”

Logan gave you a long look, something tender flickering in his expression. “You’re good with him,” he murmured.

You looked away, your face warming. “I’m just... trying to help.”

When you arrived at your office, Peter gasped at the sight of the little Yoda figurine on your desk. “He’s so cool!” he exclaimed, running to inspect it closer. His awe made you laugh softly, and for the first time in a while, it felt natural.

Peter was chattering about his favorite lightsaber battles when Jean appeared in the doorway. She looked between you, Peter, and Logan, her brow furrowed slightly. “New recruit?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Not exactly,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms.

Peter ran up to Jean without hesitation. “Hi! I’m Peter! And I’m here because I lost my aunt and uncle at the bakery!”

Jean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” she said softly, crouching to meet his gaze. “Well, hi, Peter. I’m Jean. And I’m sure we’re going to find your family soon, okay?”

Peter nodded quickly, his little hands still gripping the straps of his Star Wars backpack. “Okay,” he whispered, but his voice wavered, betraying the fear he was trying to keep at bay.

Jean glanced up at you and Logan, her expression laced with concern. “Have you called the local precinct yet?”

“Not yet,” Logan said, crossing his arms. “Kid didn’t look too thrilled when I mentioned it. Figured we’d keep him calm first, then call it in.”

You crouched down beside Jean, meeting Peter’s wide eyes. “Hey, Peter, do you want to hang out here for a little bit? We’ve got snacks, a big TV, and even a pool table if you’re into that.”

Peter hesitated, his gaze darting between you, Logan, and Jean. “You’re not leaving, right?”

“Not a chance,” Logan said firmly, his voice a reassuring rumble. “We’re stickin’ with you, kid.”

Peter nodded, his grip on his backpack loosening just a fraction. “Okay.”

Jean rose and gestured subtly for you and Logan to follow her into the hall. You gave Peter a quick smile. “We’ll be right back, okay? Just stay here and make yourself comfortable.”

When you stepped into the hallway, Jean folded her arms and kept her voice low. “He seems pretty attached to you two already.”

“He’s scared out of his mind,” you said quietly, glancing back toward the office. “And honestly, I don’t blame him.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that,” Jean said, her brow furrowing. “There’s something familiar about him. I can’t quite place it.”

Logan shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. What’s the plan?”

Jean sighed, her expression softening. “I’ll go call the precinct, let them know we’ve got Peter here. If he’s reported missing, they’ll already be looking for him.”

“Good idea,” you said, your voice heavy with thought. “And I’ll stay with him, keep him calm.”

Logan gave you a look, his eyes soft but serious. “You sure you’re up for that?”

You nodded, pushing back the knot forming in your chest. “Yeah. He needs someone right now.”

Jean looked between the two of you, a flicker of understanding passing over her face. “Alright. I’ll handle the call.”

Logan followed you back into the office, where Peter had perched himself in your chair, spinning it slowly while inspecting the Yoda figurine on your desk. He looked up as you entered, his small face brightening just a little.

“You’re back!” he said, holding up the figurine. “I like this guy.”

“Me too,” you said with a soft laugh, settling into the chair beside him. “Yoda’s the best, isn’t he?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “He’s really smart. And he talks funny.”

Logan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the two of you. Despite the situation, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“So,” you said, leaning forward on your desk, “what do you think? Want to stay here for a bit? We’ve got a whole library full of books, some even about space and Star Wars stuff.”

Peter’s eyes lit up again. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, your heart warming at his enthusiasm. “I can show you later if you want.”

“Okay!” Peter said, his voice a little stronger now. He glanced toward Logan. “Are you staying too?”

Logan nodded, his voice gruff but gentle. “Yeah, kid. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Peter seemed reassured by that, and for the first time since you found him, he smiled—a small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

As the minutes ticked by, the weight in your chest softened just a little. You didn’t know what Peter’s story was or how long it would take to reunite him with his family, but for now, he was safe. And that was enough.

---

As the day turned into night, Peter sat cross-legged on the carpet of the mansion’s rec room, playing Go Fish! with Kitty and Rogue. His laughter bubbled up every so often, filling the space with a warmth that made you smile despite the tension that lingered just below the surface. Logan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his watchful eyes rarely leaving the boy.

Jean entered quietly, her expression softer than before as she approached. “I spoke to the precinct,” she said, keeping her voice low. “His aunt and uncle are on their way. They’ll be here within the hour.”

A knot in your chest loosened slightly, though it didn’t disappear entirely. “That’s good,” you murmured, your gaze drifting back to Peter. “At least he won’t have to stay scared for much longer.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes flicked to you for a moment, and then back to the boy.

Jean stepped closer, her tone gentler now. “Y/N, you’re really good at this.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a faint smile. “Good at what?”

“At being what he needs right now,” she said simply, glancing toward Logan as if daring him to argue.

“Yoda would call it ‘parenting,’” Logan rumbled dryly, but there was no edge to his voice.

“Funny,” you shot back lightly, though the way his words curled into your heart was anything but.

Jean smiled knowingly and then excused herself to check on Peter’s room arrangements, leaving the two of you alone in the doorway.

“She’s right, though,” Logan said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Kid’s been through hell today, and somehow, you’re the only thing that’s kept him steady.”

You crossed your arms, glancing at him. “I think it’s less me and more Yoda,” you joked, but the slight tremor in your voice gave you away.

Logan tilted his head, his piercing gaze holding yours. “Darlin’, it’s you. Don’t doubt that.”

A warmth you didn’t entirely know how to handle spread through your chest. “I just…” You paused, your fingers brushing your glasses. “I remember being Peter’s age and needing someone to make me feel safe. My grandma did that for me. Maybe I just… want to be that for him.”

Logan’s expression softened, his features shadowed by the rec room’s low lighting. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing your arm lightly. “You are.”

You blinked up at him, your chest tight in a way that was both painful and comforting.

Kitty’s sudden exclamation broke the quiet moment. “Peter! You’re totally cheating!”

“I am not!” Peter squealed, clutching his cards to his chest and grinning wide.

“Are too!” Rogue teased, flicking a card toward him.

You turned back to Logan, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smile. “He’s resilient, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed, his gaze softening as he watched Peter. “More than most adults I’ve met.”

Before you could say anything, the familiar sound of a car approaching the mansion echoed from outside. You glanced toward the window, spotting headlights cutting through the night.

“That must be them,” you said, your heart tightening again.

Logan pushed off the doorframe. “Stay with him. I’ll meet ’em.”

You hesitated. “Logan—”

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady but firm, “trust me. I’ll bring ’em up. You just keep him calm.”

Something in his tone settled the whirlwind in your chest, and you nodded, turning back to Peter and the girls.

---

Peter glanced up as Logan led a man and woman into the room, their faces pale and eyes red-rimmed. “Peter!” the woman exclaimed, rushing forward and dropping to her knees in front of him.

His wide brown eyes blinked in surprise before lighting up with relief. “Aunt May!”

You stepped back, letting Peter and his aunt share a tearful embrace while Logan lingered near the doorway, watching. You felt your throat tighten as his uncle crouched to hold him too, whispering something you couldn’t hear.

May looked up at you, her eyes swimming with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “He’s a special kid. I’m just glad we could help.”

Logan’s quiet presence at your side grounded you, his arm brushing yours in a way that let you know he was there. Peter looked over at you, still holding onto May’s hand. “Will I get to see you again?”

Your heart cracked just slightly at his question. “You bet, Peter,” you said softly. “Anytime.”

Logan nodded toward the door. “Let’s give ’em some time, darlin’.”

You followed him out into the hallway, lingering by the door as you listened to Peter chatter to his aunt and uncle about Yoda and Go Fish!

---

Logan was already in bed, sketching something in his notebook as you sat down by his side, your nightgown bunching around your thighs.

You put your head on Logan’s shoulder, your glasses riding up slightly as you watched him sketch. His pencil moved fluidly over the paper, and though you couldn't quite make out what he was working on, you could see it was intricate—full of tiny details only he could capture so effortlessly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content in the shared silence, but Logan wasn’t one to miss when something was on your mind. He paused his sketching and looked over at you, his warm voice breaking the quiet.

“What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your nightgown. You knew he’d notice eventually—he always did. Taking a breath, you lifted your gaze to his face, his expression open and patient.

"I was just thinking about Peter… and his aunt and uncle," you admitted softly. "How relieved they were to see him. He means everything to them."

Logan nodded, his hand brushing lightly against your knee. “Kid’s lucky to have family like that.” He studied you for a beat, his gaze sharp but gentle, the way it always was when it came to you. “That ain’t all you’re thinkin’ about, though.”

You swallowed, your heart quickening. He always managed to cut right to the heart of things, but he never pushed—not until you were ready.

"No," you said finally, your voice quiet. "It’s not."

Logan put the pencil down on the bedside table, his attention fully on you now. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

You played with the hem of your gown again, gathering your thoughts. “It’s been seven months,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Since we lost…” You didn’t have to say the words—Logan’s hand was already wrapping around yours, steady and grounding.

“I know,” he said softly, the rasp in his voice turning gentle for you.

A lump formed in your throat, but you pushed through it. “Taking care of Peter, seeing how much he means to May and Ben… it just… it made me wonder if maybe… maybe I’m ready to try again.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he shifted, turning to face you more fully, his free hand cupping your cheek.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I ain’t gonna lie, darlin’. It scares me, what you went through. What we went through. Don’t want you hurting like that again.”

“I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “I’m scared, too. But I keep thinking about what it felt like to be pregnant—how it felt to think about a future with a little one. Our little one. I… I think I want to try again. Not right away, but maybe soon?”

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his eyes softer now, filled with something that looked like both hope and worry. "Soon," he echoed. "We take it slow this time. No rushin’, no pushin’ ourselves too hard. Deal?"

You smiled faintly, blinking back tears as you nodded. “Deal.”

Logan pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll get there, Y/N. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, Logan holding you as if to shield you from all the pain and uncertainty. And for once, you let yourself believe it might be okay.

---

During Christmas break, Logan surprised you by taking you to a cabin in Upstate New York, apparently it’s one Charles owns but rarely uses.

You had suggested going to a Christmas tree farm to find a tree, and Logan had immediately agreed, despite the snow piling up in Upstate New York. His only condition? “We’re not getting one of those scrawny ones,” he’d said, crossing his arms as you both bundled up to head out. “I want one that’ll make the cabin smell like Christmas exploded in it.”

Now, you stood in a clearing surrounded by evergreens, your breath visible in the crisp winter air. Logan’s gloved hand was warm as it enveloped yours, his other hand holding an old-fashioned ax slung over his shoulder.

“What about that one?” you asked, pointing to a modest tree that seemed the perfect height for the cabin’s living room. Its branches were full, the green vibrant against the white snow.

Logan tilted his head, giving the tree a scrutinizing look. “It’s not bad,” he admitted, but then his gaze drifted further into the rows of trees. “But look at that monster over there.”

Following his line of sight, your eyes landed on a tree that was practically a skyscraper. You laughed, your breath puffing out in clouds. “Logan, that’s not going to fit through the door.”

His lips quirked in a grin, the kind that made your chest warm even in the biting cold. “Could cut it down to size.”

You shook your head, pulling him back toward the smaller tree. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. Besides, this one’s cute.”

Logan grumbled something under his breath about “cute trees,” but his smile stayed as he set the ax down. “Alright, darlin’. You win.”

Watching him chop down the tree was like stepping into a Christmas card. Logan moved with ease, his strength controlled but impressive, the sharp crack of the wood splitting echoing in the quiet forest. When he finally hefted the tree over his shoulder, he glanced at you with a smirk.

“Still think it’s cute?”

You grinned. “Very.”

---

Back at the cabin, you were in the kitchen setting up hot cocoa while Logan worked on securing the tree in its stand. The smell of pine was already filling the space, mingling with the scent of the cocoa you were stirring on the stove.

“Need help?” you called, peeking around the corner to see Logan wrestling with the tree.

He shot you a playful glare. “I got it. But if this thing falls, it’s your cute tree’s fault.”

Biting back a laugh, you brought two mugs to the living room just as Logan stepped back, hands on his hips, to admire his handiwork. The tree stood proudly, its branches brushing the cabin’s low ceiling.

“Not bad,” you said, handing him a mug. “You do good work.”

Logan took a sip, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “You just like bossin’ me around.”

“Someone has to,” you teased, leaning into his side.

The evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. You strung lights while Logan hung ornaments, occasionally passing one to you with a quip about how your “little nerd hands” needed the practice. By the time you finished, the tree glowed softly, casting the room in a warm light.

Settling onto the couch with Logan, you pulled a blanket over both of you, your glasses slipping slightly as you rested your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the occasional pop of a lightbulb warming up on the tree.

“Think we’ll do this next year?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the cozy stillness.

Logan turned his head, his lips brushing your temple. “Next year, the year after that… as many years as you want, sweetheart.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing over his knuckles where they rested on your knee. “I like the sound of that.”

Logan kissed your hair, his voice soft but firm. “Me too.”

---

The two of you had ventured out into Victor to buy a few gifts at the mall. Logan, for a brief period of time, had said he had to “find somethin’” and “not to worry your pretty head ‘bout it”. Which was fine, you were in a clothing store picking out a few items for Jean and Ororo for Christmas, even finding a simple dark red plaid dress you thought would be good for Christmas day, even if it was just you and Logan.

When the two of you made it back to the cabin, Logan started the fire while you unpacked your shopping bags and started wrapping gifts on the small coffee table in the living room. You glanced up occasionally to see him adjusting the logs in the fireplace, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, highlighting his forearms.

“I wanted to show you something,” you said softly after a while, tying a ribbon around a small package meant for Ororo. Logan grunted his acknowledgment, dusting his hands as he stood and glanced over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“Give me a minute,” you said, standing with the red plaid dress draped over your arm as you walked toward the bedroom. You returned a few minutes later, smoothing the fabric down nervously.

Logan turned, his brow lifting slightly when he saw you. His intense gaze softened as it trailed over you, taking in the way the dress hugged your figure just right. “Well, look at you,” he rumbled, crossing his arms. “That’s a damn good dress.”

“Not too much?” you asked shyly, adjusting your glasses as you stood there, your cheeks warming.

“Too much? Nah, darlin’, it’s perfect,” he said, stepping closer and tugging gently at your waistline. “You got a knack for makin’ things look better than they deserve.”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “Thanks for the help, Logan.”

He chuckled but took a step back, his smirk hinting at something as he reached into the bag he’d brought back from the mall. “Speakin’ of things lookin’ good...” He handed you a small paper bag with tissue peeking out from the top.

Curious, you peeked inside, pulling out the soft, red lace of what was unmistakably lingerie. You stared for a moment before bursting out laughing, your cheeks burning even hotter.

“This,” you managed between giggles, holding it up by the delicate straps, “this is what you went off to find?”

Logan leaned against the edge of the couch, entirely unbothered by your reaction. His grin spread slowly as he shrugged. “Figured you’d like it. Or maybe I just wanted to see you in it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I’m more curious about you buying it. Did you actually go into one of those stores?”

“Yup,” he said without hesitation, his smirk widening. “Gal behind the counter said this was ‘popular.’ I figured, why not?”

“Why not?” you repeated, laughing harder.

His tone turned teasing as he nodded toward the bedroom. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see if it’s as good as the lady said.”

You hesitated, eyeing the lingerie before glancing at him. “You’re something else, Logan.”

“Damn right, I am.” He gave you a light swat on the backside as you turned toward the bedroom, his grin feral but amused.

“Logan!” you yelped, laughing as you scampered off to change.

---

A few minutes later, you stepped out of the bedroom, clutching the edge of the sheer, flowy skirt of the babydoll dress nervously. The delicate red lace and corset-style detail fit perfectly, the bow at the top adding an unexpected sweetness to the undeniably daring outfit. Your glasses slid down your nose slightly as you met Logan’s gaze.

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes darkening as they raked over you from head to toe. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice rougher, deeper. “That’s... yeah, that was worth it.”

You laughed softly, trying to ignore how his reaction sent heat pooling in your stomach. “You��re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze lifting to yours, a crooked grin softening the intensity. “But I know what I like.”

Your nervousness melted under the weight of his appreciation, and you crossed the room toward him. He didn’t move, waiting until you were within reach to hook an arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

Logan’s lips pressed against yours with a slow, deliberate heat, his hands still spread over the sheer fabric of the babydoll dress. His roughened palms seemed impossibly gentle as they slid along your sides, brushing the soft material and igniting a warmth that pooled low in your belly.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a rumble that made your knees weak. One hand moved to your waist, tugging you closer, while the other ghosted over the delicate lace at the hem of the dress, sending shivers up your spine.

“Logan,” you began, your voice soft but teasing as you started to reach for the straps of the dress. “Let me just—”

“Uh-uh,” he interrupted, catching your wrist gently and lowering your hand. His grin was playful but commanding, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re keepin’ this on.”

“Why?” you asked, though the way his eyes darkened made your pulse quicken.

“Because I said so,” he drawled, one hand trailing lower to the garter strap on your thigh. His fingers slipped under it briefly before he let it snap back lightly against your skin. You yelped, a startled laugh bubbling out of you, and he smirked.

“Logan!”

“What? Feels like it’s got its uses,” he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He pressed a kiss to your jawline, then down the curve of your neck, nipping lightly as he went. “Plus, you look too damn good in it to take it off right away.”

You huffed a small laugh, but any retort you might have had died in your throat as his lips reached the base of your neck, lingering there. His hand wandered back to your waist, slipping beneath the flowy fabric to grip your hip, his thumb brushing the bare skin there.

“Logan,” you murmured again, a breathless edge to your tone this time.

“Hmm?” he answered, his mouth now teasing along your collarbone. He was thoroughly enjoying taking his time, and it showed in the satisfied little growl that rumbled in his chest when your fingers tangled in his hair.

Before you knew it, he was guiding you backward toward the couch, his lips never leaving your skin. When the backs of your knees hit the cushions, he gave you a gentle push to sit down.

“Right here, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and rough. His hands eased your legs apart as he knelt in front of you, the sheer skirt of the dress pooling around your thighs. The firelight flickered behind him, casting a warm glow over the room and making his features even sharper, more intense.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you teased, though the way your breath hitched when he leaned in betrayed your composure.

“Damn right,” he muttered. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, his thumbs tracing slow circles against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss just above one of the garters. “Now, let me take my time, yeah?”

You nodded, your glasses slipping down your nose as you watched him. His hands slid higher, pushing the sheer fabric up slightly, exposing more of you to his touch. His lips followed, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thigh that had you squirming beneath him.

“Logan...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Patience, darlin’,” he said, glancing up at you with a devilish grin. His fingers gripped the lace at your hips, holding you steady as he pressed another kiss against you, this time over the delicate fabric of your panties. The heat of his mouth sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your head fell back against the couch with a soft gasp.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he finally hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid them down your legs. The cool air hit you briefly, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his breath as he settled between your thighs again.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all damn day,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to your bare skin. His tongue followed, slow and deliberate, drawing a shaky moan from your lips.

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch as his tongue worked against you, his movements unhurried but precise. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, each flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you breathed, your fingers finding their way into his hair. He groaned at the contact, the sound vibrating against you and making your toes curl.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. When your hips bucked against him, he growled softly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and filled with need. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body arching off the couch as the tension inside you snapped. He didn’t stop until you were trembling beneath him, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to recover.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was smug, but his eyes were soft as he looked up at you. “Worth every damn minute in that store,” he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the lingering shudders of your release making your thighs tremble. Logan gave one last playful nip at your inner thigh before rising to his feet in one smooth motion. He loomed over you for a moment, his gaze drinking you in, the sheer red fabric of the babydoll dress bunched slightly around your hips, your skin flushed and glistening.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his hands sliding under your arms as he pulled you to sit up. Before you could fully process the movement, he dropped onto the couch and tugged you onto his lap, guiding your legs to straddle him.

“Logan—”

“Uh-uh,” he cut you off, his hands firm on your hips as he adjusted you to his liking. “You’re stayin’ right here, sweetheart.”

The rough denim of his jeans pressed against your bare thighs, the contrast making you hyper-aware of every point of contact. Logan’s hands roamed over you, one sliding up your back while the other traced the hem of the dress where it barely covered your hips. His touch was possessive, deliberate, his fingers flexing as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you.

“Y’know,” he drawled, his voice thick with heat as his lips found your collarbone, “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you wearin’ this since I saw it on the rack.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled out of you. “You didn’t even let me look at it when you came back,” you teased, your fingers finding their way to his hair, tugging lightly.

He groaned at the sensation, his teeth grazing your skin just below your jaw. “Damn right I didn’t. Knew it’d be perfect. And look at you now.” His hands slid lower, gripping your hips and rocking you against him, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders as he leaned back slightly, giving himself more room to work. His mouth trailed lower, over the curve of your breast, and he nipped lightly through the lace of the dress. The sensation made you jolt, a mix of pleasure and surprise, and his low chuckle vibrated against your skin.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice a mix of frustration and need as his teeth scraped over the delicate fabric again.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence as his tongue flicked out to tease the sensitive skin beneath. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Before you could respond, his hands slid up your sides, pushing the fabric of the dress higher until it bunched just below your chest. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hands were back on you in an instant, one sliding behind your back to pull you closer while the other cupped your breast through the lace. His thumb brushed over the sensitive peak, and you shuddered, your breath hitching.

“You’re drivin’ me crazy,” he said, his voice a rough growl as he leaned in to capture your lips again. The kiss was messy, desperate, his teeth catching your lower lip before his tongue swept into your mouth, claiming you completely.

“Logan,” you gasped when he finally pulled back, your head spinning. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he shifted beneath you. The unmistakable hardness pressing against you made your pulse race.

“Need you,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent. “Right fuckin’ now.”

You nodded, your hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers trembled slightly as you worked them open, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. He shrugged out of the fabric impatiently, tossing it aside before his hands returned to your hips.

“Keep the dress on,” he reminded you, his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through you.

“I wasn’t planning to take it off,” you replied, a small smirk playing at your lips.

He groaned, his hands tightening on you. “Good,” he muttered, his lips finding your neck again as he began to guide you against him. The rough denim of his jeans added a delicious friction that had you both gasping.

Your hands found his belt, fumbling slightly as you unbuckled it and tugged it free. Logan’s lips never left your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as you worked to free him from the confines of his jeans. When you finally succeeded, he groaned, his hips lifting slightly to help you push them down.

“Goddamn tease,” he muttered, his voice thick with need as he lifted you slightly, positioning you over him.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, though your teasing tone faltered as you felt him press against you.

He didn’t reply, too focused on guiding you down onto him. The stretch was intense, stealing the breath from your lungs as he filled you completely. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as he gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

You couldn’t form words, your hands bracing against his chest as you adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. Logan’s hands moved to your thighs, his thumbs brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Take your time,” he murmured, though his voice was strained with the effort of holding himself back.

After a moment, you began to move, your hips rocking tentatively at first. Logan’s groan spurred you on, his hands guiding your movements as you found a rhythm that had you both gasping.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Just like that.”

Your movements started slow, each roll of your hips deliberate, drawing quiet groans from Logan as he leaned back against the couch. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, his touch grounding you as you adjusted to the rhythm. The soft material of the babydoll dress clung to your skin, the sheer fabric shifting with every motion.

Logan’s eyes burned as he watched you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Fuck, darlin’,” he rasped. “You’re somethin’ else.”

Your hands rested on his chest, your fingers splayed across his warm, scarred skin. His muscles tensed beneath your touch each time your hips shifted, his breaths turning into low, guttural sounds. Every inch of him felt alive beneath you, responding to your every move.

As your confidence grew, so did the pace, your movements becoming more fluid. Logan’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to leave an impression. He groaned your name, the sound rough and needy, and the way it rolled off his tongue sent heat pooling low in your belly.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t. Your hips rocked faster, and Logan’s jaw clenched as he fought to keep control. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he began to move with you. He thrust upward, his movements deep and deliberate, meeting you halfway and sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers curled against his chest, nails digging into his skin as he set a faster pace.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hands keeping you steady as he thrust harder. The couch creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. His movements became more urgent, his breathing harsh against your ear as he pulled you closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern. His eyes flicked up to yours, searching your face.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he moved again, deeper this time. “Uh-huh,” you managed, the word spilling from your lips without thought. Your head fell forward, resting against his shoulder as you clung to him, your body trembling with each thrust.

Logan’s hands moved to your back, sliding beneath the thin straps of the dress to hold you against him. Your chests pressed together, the heat of his skin searing against yours. His lips found your neck, trailing rough kisses along your pulse point before biting gently. The combination of pain and pleasure made you gasp, your nails raking down his sides.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your skin. His hips snapped upward with more force, each thrust dragging a whimper from your lips. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

The words sent a shiver through you, your thighs trembling as you tried to keep up with his pace. Logan’s grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your back as he shifted beneath you. He leaned forward, pressing you down against him until you could feel every inch of him, his movements driving deeper.

“Logan,” you whispered again, your voice cracking as his name fell from your lips like a prayer. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he swallowed your moans.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his hands moving to your hips. He shifted, pulling you down harder as he thrust up, his movements relentless. The friction and heat built between you, each motion sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Your head tilted back, a soft cry escaping your lips as he hit a spot that sent your body arching against him. Logan growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he moved faster, his grip on you firm and unyielding.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Let go for me.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The tension that had been building snapped, your body shuddering as you reached your peak. Logan groaned, his movements slowing just enough to let you ride out the waves of pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands soothing over your trembling thighs. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

You clung to him, your breaths coming in short, shaky gasps as you tried to recover. Logan pressed soft kisses to your temple, his grip on you loosening just slightly as he gave you a moment to catch your breath.

But he wasn’t done.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Logan shifted beneath you, his hands sliding to your thighs as he lifted you slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with raw need.

“You good?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

You nodded, your fingers brushing his cheek. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breathless but sure.

He grinned, a wolfish expression that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

With that, he shifted again, guiding you to lie back against the couch. The babydoll dress bunched around your waist, the sheer fabric clinging to your flushed skin. Logan loomed over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

His hips moved again, slower this time but no less intense. Each thrust was deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Every damn part of you.”

You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. Logan groaned against your lips, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his own release. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove deeper, each thrust pulling a moan from your lips.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he pushed you to the edge again. His name was the only thing you could manage, your thoughts consumed by the overwhelming sensation of him.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice strained but steady. “Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And with one final thrust, you did, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure crashed over you. Logan followed moments later, his groan low and rough as he buried himself deep, his body trembling against yours.

For a moment, the only sound was the ragged breathing that filled the room. Logan stayed over you, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His hands moved to your waist, his touch gentle as he smoothed over your skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with quiet concern.

You nodded, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Logan chuckled, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight tonight.”

---

After waking up late the next day—only because Logan stuck to his word—you had made homemade banana bread that would have to cook for around 45 minutes before it was done.

While you waited, you decided to try something new. Logan was in the shower, and you knew his routine well enough to guess he’d be done soon. A flicker of boldness lit up inside you. Without second-guessing, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving them in a heap by the door. You placed your glasses carefully on the dresser—everything was a little blurry now, but it didn’t matter.

Quietly, you padded across the floor to the bathroom, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. The air was warm and humid, the sound of water cascading against tiles filling the room.

Logan was standing under the spray, head tilted back, water streaming down his broad shoulders and muscled back. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the tiles. Steam curled around you, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him.

“Darlin’, you forget somethin’?” Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts. He didn’t turn around, but you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You froze for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “Maybe I just wanted to join you,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

Logan turned slightly, enough to glance over his shoulder at you. His gaze flicked over your body, and his smirk widened. “Not that I’m complainin’, but what’s got you sneakin’ in here?”

You stepped closer, reaching out to brush your fingers against his arm. “Can I… do something?” you asked softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The question hung in the air, the intimacy of it sending a spark through both of you.

Logan’s eyes darkened, his grin fading into something more serious. He turned fully, the water flattening his hair against his forehead. “You don’t gotta ask,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You dropped to your knees on the wet tiles, the water spraying against your back as you settled in front of him. Logan’s sharp inhale was the only sound for a moment. He reached down, his fingers brushing your cheek as he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and heat.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his arousal was clear.

You nodded, your hands already sliding up his thighs. “I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. You weren’t nervous because of him—you’d done this before—but there was something thrilling about the spontaneity of it.

Logan groaned softly as your hands moved higher, his muscles tensing under your touch. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he muttered, his head tilting back slightly as you began to explore him with your hands and mouth. The warmth of the shower and the slickness of the water added a new layer of sensation, and you could feel his body responding to every movement.

Your tongue flicked over him, testing, teasing, before taking him fully. Logan’s hand found its way into your hair, not guiding but grounding himself as a low growl rumbled from his chest. His hips shifted slightly, his restraint palpable as you worked him slowly, thoroughly, letting the heat and steam build between you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Logan groaned, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

You glanced up at him, your vision a little blurry without your glasses, but you could still see the way his jaw clenched, his muscles taut as he fought to keep control. His reaction spurred you on, your movements becoming more deliberate, more confident.

“You’re so damn good at this,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Always know how to take care of me.”

Your hands gripped his thighs, steadying yourself as you continued, the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. Logan’s breathing grew heavier, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he murmured your name, a low, reverent sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

When he finally tugged you gently back, his chest was heaving, his eyes dark and intense. “C’mere,” he said, his voice a rough command that you couldn’t ignore.

You stood slowly, water dripping down your body as Logan’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His mouth crashed against yours, hot and desperate, his hands roaming over your wet skin as the kiss deepened. The hunger in his touch was undeniable, but there was also a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Logan’s hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you easily. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he pressed you against the cool tile wall, the contrast of temperatures making you gasp. His lips moved to your neck, nipping and sucking as he positioned himself between your thighs.

You sighed his name, nails digging into his shoulders, the small crescent marks fading almost instantly. “I was s’pposed to—”

Logan cut you off, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “I know, sweetheart. But right now, I wanna be inside you.” His voice was rough, low, and the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he shifted his hips, pressing into you with a deliberate, maddening slowness. The heat of him, the thickness, made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your legs tightened around his waist. Logan’s eyes locked on yours, his gaze unwavering even through the steam curling around you both.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and tender. His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as he sank deeper. “None of that holdin’ back shit. Just let it out.”

Your lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as he filled you completely. It had become a habit, one you hadn’t even realized—biting your lip, muffling your sounds against his skin, or burying them in kisses. You’d gotten used to keeping quiet, especially back at the mansion. Now, the vulnerability of letting go felt foreign and exhilarating.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice breaking as he began to move. The rhythm he set was slow but unrelenting, each thrust purposeful and deep. Your head fell forward against his shoulder, and you bit down lightly on his skin, trying to keep from being too loud.

Logan’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing against your temple. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with care. “You don’t have to be quiet. I wanna hear every damn sound.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, though it was a struggle to let go of the ingrained instinct. When he angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside you, your head tilted back, and a sharp moan slipped free before you could stop it.

“That’s it,” Logan praised, his voice a low growl against your neck. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up. “Goddamn, darlin’. You feel so good.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as the pleasure built. “Right there,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Feels so good.”

Logan grinned against your skin, his teeth grazing your jaw before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “Don’t stop talkin’ to me,” he muttered between kisses. “Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

Your legs tightened around his waist, and you moaned into his mouth, your body arching into him. “So good,” you managed, your voice breaking as he thrust deeper. “Logan, please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased, his lips moving to your throat as he sucked lightly on the sensitive skin. His hips snapped upward, harder this time, and your nails raked down his back in response. “Use your words.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t ever stop.”

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that sent heat pooling in your belly. “Not a fuckin’ chance,” he promised, his pace quickening. Each thrust dragged a new sound from you, the intensity overwhelming in the best way.

But then the habit crept back in. As the sensations grew, you bit down on your lip, stifling a moan as your head fell forward against his shoulder. Logan noticed instantly, his movements slowing as his hand tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“None of that,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Don’t hide from me, Y/N. I wanna hear you. All of it.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. The apology was instinctive, but Logan wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice softer now. “Just let go, darlin’. No one else is here. It’s just us.”

His words broke down the last of your restraint. The next time he thrust into you, you let out a cry, your hands clutching at his shoulders as the pleasure crashed over you. Logan’s growl of approval only fueled the fire, his movements becoming rougher, more desperate as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

“Logan,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer. The sound of it seemed to spur him on, his grip on you tightening as he drove deeper. Your vision blurred, not just from the missing glasses but from the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Let it all out. Don’t hold back.”

You clung to him, your body trembling as you reached your peak, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless surges. Logan wasn’t far behind, his hips snapping one last time before he groaned deeply, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the steady spray of water and the ragged breathing that filled the room. Logan’s hands softened their grip, sliding up to cradle your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern.

You nodded, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

Logan chuckled, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he eased out of you, lowering you gently to your feet. Your legs were shaky, but he steadied you, his hands never leaving your waist.

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

You tried to meet his eyes, though you weren’t sure if you did or not, while giving a small pout. “But the banana bread is in the oven.”

His eyes widened for a moment before he turned off the shower, water still running down his face as he looked at you. “Well, don’t let me stop ya,” he said, though the twitch of a grin tugged at his lips, and his tone betrayed an unusual excitement.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “Are you—are you actually excited about banana bread right now?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing a towel from the hook. “I mean... it’s banana bread. Why wouldn’t I be excited?” His smirk turned mischievous as he turned back to face you, holding the towel open like a shield. “C’mon, sweetheart, outta the shower before I start thinkin’ you’re more fun than the bread.”

You snorted, water dripping from your hair as you stepped into his waiting towel. “Admit it, Logan. You’re acting like a kid waiting for dessert. I didn’t know you had such a thing for banana bread.”

Wrapping the towel snugly around your frame, he started to dry you off methodically, his calloused hands rubbing gentle circles against your arms through the soft fabric. “Ain’t just any banana bread—it’s your banana bread,” he said matter-of-factly, meeting your eyes briefly before going back to drying you off. “Gotta admit, though, you make the wait damn hard sometimes.”

The faint warmth of his compliment lingered as he continued his task. Logan’s attention was deliberate, unhurried, like he enjoyed every small moment between you. By the time he reached for another towel to gently dry your hair, you couldn’t help the grin pulling at your lips. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, giggling softly.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he teased, pressing a light kiss to your forehead before reaching for your glasses. He placed them on carefully, his fingers brushing against your temple. “There. Perfect.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re getting better at this, y’know.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning as he grabbed another towel to wrap around his waist. “Or maybe I just like seein’ you look all warm and cared for.”

Before you could reply, he grabbed one of the clothes bundles he’d laid out, already half-dressed himself as he guided you into a fresh pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt you recognized as his. The soft fabric hung loose around your frame, and you gave him a questioning glance as he smirked again.

“What? Looks good on ya,” he said with a shrug. “Now c’mon, let’s check on this banana bread you’re teasin’ me with.”

“Teasin’ you?” you repeated, laughing as you followed him back toward the kitchen. “Pretty sure you’re the one making a big deal out of it.”

He looked over his shoulder at you as he walked. “Damn straight I am.”

When you reached the kitchen, the warm, sweet scent of the bread filled the small cabin. You moved to the counter to check on it, glancing over your shoulder when you heard him shift beside you. Logan stood close, resting a hand lightly against your lower back as you crouched to peek into the oven.

“I’m just sayin’,” he added, leaning casually against the counter, “whatever made you think to make this today? Keep it up, darlin’. You might just have me makin’ excuses to stay in more.”

You laughed as you stood, shaking your head at him. “Logan, you already hate leaving the cabin. What excuses do you need?”

He grinned and pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple as he mumbled, “Good point. Still, if it’s you bakin’, I’ll take the extra reason.”

It was such a small moment—banter layered in the comfort of your daily life together—but standing there with his arm around you, your shared laughter filling the cabin, it was everything. Every piece of grief and hope between you felt quieter, a little easier to carry.

Logan remembered the hardest things about you, the pain of losing you five times before. Yet in moments like this, you made him feel like he was learning you anew each day—and damn if he wouldn’t keep trying for a hundred lives more.

that is 2008!

also here is the lingerie dress reader was wearing - i honestly don't know the mechanics of this dress, so if something was wrong in the scene, just ignore it pls😭

i wanted to write a shower scene because it's something i've never done before, but i'm aware it's a bit inaccurate for some people (as someone with wavy hair, shower sex would never happen unless it was wash day, and even then i'm exhausted after washing it. funnily enough today is wash day for me, so i gotta go-).

y'all know i'm a marvel/mcu fan at heart, so i couldn't resist throwing in a little peter parker! <3 (i'm also in love with tom holland and his fiance so...)

[steddieas-shegoes]

a ride he does survive

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘ride’

rated e | 453 words | cw: public sex (they’re not caught, seen, or heard) | tags: Eddie has a crush on Steve, modern era, scoops ahoy, getting together, anal sex

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

“He’s a ride I wouldn’t survive.”

Jeff smacks his shoulder, groaning. “Dude, don’t say shit like that out loud.”

“Oh, so you’re homophobic now?” Eddie smirks, knows Jeff is the farthest thing from homophobic. He just isn’t a fan of Steve, or Eddie’s crush on Steve.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Why don’t you go talk to him for once? Or am I gonna have to listen to you every day until one of you inevitably leaves this shithole town?”

“There’s no way he’d be interested in me. I’m a triple senior, dude.”

“Hey guys, we’re closing up. Do you need anything else?” The man in question smiles down at them, towel thrown over his shoulder and broom in hand.

“Sorry, nope!” Eddie squeaks out.

Jeff rolls his eyes as he stands. “Actually, Eddie here is looking for a summer job.”

Steve grins. “I need someone to close with! Robin’s mom is, like, so strict. She won’t even let her stay out past curfew for work.”

Eddie feels like he’s out of his body. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

Steve hands him the towel. It smells like bleach and chocolate.

“If you can help me close, I’ll put in the good word with the boss.”

Jeff laughs his way out of Scoops Ahoy while Eddie wipes tables, muttering to himself about doing stupid things for stupid boys. He’s nearly done when Steve turns off the lights.

“Sorry, we have a security light usually, but it’s not working.”

Eddie nods. Right. They’ll just finish in the dark.

“If you log the time you helped today, it can get added to your paycheck,” Steve explains.

He guides him to the back where there’s a book of names, mostly Robin, and clock in times. Eddie adds his.

“You like ice cream a lot?” Steve asks.

“Uh, I’m lactose intolerant?” Eddie replies.

Steve nods. “So you come to the ice cream shop because…”

“Because you look really good in that outfit.”

It’s out before he can stop it. Steve’s lips are on his before Eddie can understand what’s happening. Their hands are everywhere, covering skin that shouldn’t be exposed back here. They’re both hard, both leaking.

“Can I fuck you?” Steve asks.

“Here?”

“Please.”

He sounds so good begging like this, Eddie can’t say no.

There’s no lube to be found, but they make it work with Vaseline from the employee locker. Eddie’s stretched open quickly, just a hint of pain with the pleasure, the way he likes it.

Steve sits in the rolling chair and this is a bad idea. Eddie loves bad ideas.

He straddles Steve, rides him until the chair is wobbling and squeaking, ready to break.

“Tomorrow, you can fuck me,” Steve offers as he comes.

[paishoeyeroh]

Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER TEN: Fracture

Chapter Summary: You push. Sukuna breaks.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Sukuna is ignoring you.

At first, you don’t think too much of it, assuming he’s just quiet this morning. You hadn’t seen him since last night, after all, and you figured things might be a little… tense. But by the time you’re sitting through your first lecture, tapping your pen against your notebook in distraction, the truth becomes evident. He’s doing it on purpose.

No odd comments thrown your way, no dry observations, no flickering glances. He follows, because he has to, but he doesn’t acknowledge you once. It’s as though you don’t exist.

You try to push it aside, to focus on your professor’s voice, on the words you should be writing down, but it hurts. There’s no denying that.

There’s really only one explanation for his coldness. Last night. The way you were drawn to each other like magnets. And then, Megumi’s call. A reminder of the one person Sukuna seems to despise, though you’ve never been entirely sure why. He’s never liked Megumi, never tried to hide his distaste. Whatever his reasoning, you know the timing isn’t a coincidence. Whether it was the moment itself or the interruption that followed, it’s clearly bothering him.

And if it’s not? If there’s something else behind his silence? That thought is even more frustrating, because it means you still don’t know what’s going on inside his head at all.

Between classes, you catch sight of a familiar head of pink hair bobbing above the crowd. Yuji. At the sight of him, you remember your conversation with Megumi last night. You decide to call out his name.

He turns immediately, eyes lighting up the second he spots you. A wide grin spreads across his face, and before you can brace yourself, he’s bounding toward you, all but skipping across the hall.

“Hey!” he exclaims, wrapping you in a tight, familiar hug. The embrace is warm, effortless, and you sink into it without hesitation. A real, genuine smile tugs at your lips, one you didn’t have to force. His energy, so bubbly and contagious, fills your insides with light, chasing away the darkness you’ve been carrying all morning.

“I was just thinking about you! Nobara and Megumi are coming over later to hang out. Wanna come?” he tilts his head closer to you, his hand coming up to cup the side of his mouth as he lowers his voice, “there’ll be weed and snaaaacks,” he sing-songs, as if he’s trying to bribe you into coming.

You giggle at his antics, but you feel a tight pang in your stomach at the realization that he’s trying to convince you, probably because he thinks you don’t want to go.

“Alright, I’ll come. But I’m not smoking any of your weed. Not after what happened last time,” you say with a grimace. Yuji’s weed is always incredibly strong, and since you’re not much of a smoker anyway, it had too great of an effect on you the last time you tried it. You don’t even want to think about it. The head spinning. The paranoia. The crying. Not fun.

Yuji throws his head back as he laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and you have no doubt the memory is playing back through his mind.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that. Good times,” he mocks as his hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder. “Well, just come over whenever after class. Nobara and Megumi are catching a ride with me, so we’ll all be there.” He waves his hand at you as he walks away. “See ya later!”

You find yourself still smiling long after Yuji passes by you in the hallway, his bright and bubbly mood never failing to cheer you up. Tonight is going to be just what you need.

As long as Sukuna behaves with Megumi around.

Your smile immediately falters at the thought. You glance over at him, standing a few feet away leaned up against the lockers, looking in the opposite direction of you. You sigh as you head to your next class.

The rest of the school day goes by quickly, now that you have something to look forward to. As Sukuna continues to neglect your existence, you become more and more certain that he will keep up the charade at Yuji’s place. The thought almost comforts you. Maybe it’ll feel like old times again, before you ever put on that damned ring.

You make your way up to Yuji’s apartment, lightly rapping your knuckles against the door.

It flings open suddenly, and Yuji’s standing there in all his marijuana-induced glory, having clearly started smoking already. His eyes are half-lidded and red rimmed, and there’s a wide, goofy smile plastered across his face as he welcomes you.

“Heeey! Guys, I told you she’d come!” he shouts back to the others, before beckoning you inside. You take a step in, with Sukuna following behind you before Yuji closes the door.

The moment you step inside, the thick, unmistakable scent of weed hits your nostrils. It’s warm in here, cozy in that lazy, indulgent kind of way. The coffee table is a mess of half eaten snacks—open bags of chips, crumpled candy wrappers, a box of cookies that’s already looking dangerously empty. And right in the middle of it all, Yuji’s bong sits proudly, a testament to the night they’ve obviously already been having.

Megumi is sprawled out on the couch, legs spread wide, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in months. His head tips lazily toward you, and a slow, lopsided smile spreads across his lips as he greets you. You return it, unable to control the tugging at your lips at the sight of him so at ease for once.

Yuji flops down beside him with a satisfied sigh, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. Meanwhile, you settle onto the floor next to Nobara, who turns to you with a look of pure relief.

“Thank god you’re here. I can’t listen to those two anymore, especially Yuji. I think I can actually feel him making me dumber.”

“That’s not because of me, it’s the weed, idiot,” Yuji quips, ducking to avoid the pillow she throws at his head in response.

You laugh, shaking your head, as you turn back to Nobara. “How’d your date go the other night?”

She immediately rolls her eyes, reaching into her bag of chips and pulling out a handful. “Ugh, don’t even get me started,” she shoves the chips into her mouth, crunching loudly. “First, he didn’t open the door for me. Then, he tried to, like, order my own food for me? And to top it all off, he didn’t even compliment my outfit!” she crushes her bag of chips in her fist in anger.

“So, naturally, I ghosted his ass. I don’t have time for that kind of disrespect.”

“Naturally,” you snort, as Megumi coughs loudly, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he takes a rip of the bong. He reaches out, offering it to you.

“Want some?”

You turn to him, shaking your head.

“Nah, I’m good.” you decline, watching him pass the bong to Yuji. As you do, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. It’s Sukuna, and you watch as he rounds the corner, walking out of sight. Probably off to go pout somewhere by himself like a sullen child, you think as you inwardly roll your eyes. You have no intention of dealing with that for the remainder of the night. You quickly turn your head back to the group as Megumi speaks.

“Guys, can we put a different show on?” he asks, his voice strained, almost pleading. He swallows thickly, his gaze locked onto the screen like it’s about to crawl out and grab him. “This one’s freaking me out.”

Yuji squints at the screen, then back at Megumi.

“What? It’s just Pokémon, dude,” he says before he leans forward, studying Megumi like he’s the most fascinating thing in the room. “Are you good?”

Megumi stands shakily, his face pale, quickly making his way down the hall. “I’ll be back,” he weakly mutters over his shoulder.

Nobara and Yuji watch him for a moment, bursting out in simultaneous laughter after the bathroom door slams shut.

“He must’ve smoked too much. He’s probably in there freaking out,” Nobara manages to get out through her wheezes.

“It’s not his fault,” you defend, “Yuji’s weed is way too strong. Last time I smoked with you guys, I convinced myself I was in a simulation.”

You shudder as you recall the memory, but it only encourages another round of cackles from the two.

You watch them for a moment, trying to contain your own laughter. But after what feels like way too long for a regular trip to the bathroom, Megumi still hasn’t returned.

You glance over at Yuji and Nobara, but they’re engrossed in their own conversation. They’ve either forgotten about the situation entirely or are too high to care. Or both. You realize that you’re going to have to be the one to go check on the poor guy.

You stand up with a sigh, preemptively pouring a glass of water in the kitchen before heading down the hall.

As you pass by Yuji’s bedroom, the open door offers a glimpse inside. You glance in casually, only to stop dead in your tracks at what you see.

Sukuna is there.

Flat on his back, sprawled across Yuji’s bed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. But something’s off.

His upper set of hands are thrown over his face, fingers digging into his forehead, covering his eyes like he’s trying to block out the world. The lower set of hands are clenched into fists, the muscles in his forearms tight, twitching with some kind of barely restrained force. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s seething. Pure, unadulterated anguish radiates off of him, thick enough to suffocate the air in your lungs.

You watch him for a second, concern twisting deep in your gut. You’ve never seen him like this. Ever. Sukuna does not unravel. But here he is, unraveling right in front of you, completely unaware that he now has an audience.

Your lips part, the start of his name forming on your tongue, but before you can speak, his hands slide up, gripping into his hair with so much force it looks like he might tear it straight from his skull.

You stand in the doorway, mouth open, quickly snapping it closed when you notice the look on his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed so tight it looks like it hurts. His lips part slightly as he exhales a slow, trembling breath, one that sounds like it’s been forced from the depths of his chest. His jaw clenches, the muscles flexing repeatedly, and his fingers tighten their grip on his hair almost desperately, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to keep from coming apart entirely.

Your own breath stills in your throat. Every muscle in your body goes rigid, your mind struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing.

What the hell is going on?

A lump forms in your throat as you try to make sense of it. He’s been avoiding you all day, shutting you out since last night, and now… this? The distance, the cold silence, was all a cover, that much is clear now. But for what?

A part of you wants to go to him. To reach out, to touch him, to offer anything that might ease whatever war is raging inside of him. The urge claws at you, visceral and insistent, your arms aching to wrap around him in comfort.

But another part of you hesitates.

I shouldn’t be here.

You’re witnessing something raw, something unguarded and deeply, painfully human. A moment he never meant for anyone to see—least of all you. You’ve been toeing a dangerous line with Sukuna for a while now, but this… this feels like stepping over it. Stumbling over it, straight into a place you don’t belong.

You should leave.

The need to understand him, to help him, gnaws at you like a hunger, but he isn’t someone who needs things like that. Sukuna doesn’t want help. He is power. He is control.

But right now…

He looks like he has neither.

You catch yourself before you do something you’ll regret, clenching your hands around the glass of water you’d forgotten you were holding. Slowly, as to not make a sound, you creep past the doorway, heading over to the bathroom.

You press your ear against the door, listening for any sign of life from inside. Nothing. No movement, no shuffling. Only silence.

After a brief hesitation, you turn the knob and push the door open, peeking your head inside.

Megumi is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows braced against his knees, his head cradled in his hands. His shoulders rise and fall with slow, deliberate breaths, the kind you take when you’re trying to will your heartbeat to steady.

“Megumi?”

He lifts his head at the sound of your voice, blinking sluggishly. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, his pupils blown wide. It takes him a second to register you standing there, and when he does, his posture stiffens just a little. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips—weak, sheepish—before he clears his throat.

“I’m alright, I just needed to chill in here for a second.”

You step into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you before lowering yourself onto the floor beside him. The cool tiles press against your legs as you settle in close to his feet, holding out the glass.

“Here, drink this. I got you some water.”

Megumi takes it, fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t look at you right away, instead staring down at the rim of the glass like it suddenly holds the secrets of the universe.

“Thanks,” he mutters, finally lifting it to his lips. He swallows a few careful sips before adding, “Sorry for ruining the vibe.”

You shake your head, lips twitching into a small smile as you reach out, rubbing his arm in comfort.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assure him, your voice soft, “you didn’t ruin anything.”

That gets him to look at you, but only briefly, his eyes flickering to yours before darting away. He shifts slightly on the edge of the tub.

You grin, deciding to tease him just a little. “Come back out whenever you’re ready. Oh, and I’ll make sure that show isn’t on when you do.”

His lips part slightly before pressing into a flat line. A weak chuckle escapes him, half amusement, half mortification. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

You squeeze his arm lightly before rising to your feet. As you do, you glance down at him one last time, watching as he rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. Stifling a giggle, you reach for the doorknob.

“See you out there,” you say, stepping through the doorway.

As you make your way back to the living room, you pass by Yuji’s room once again. This time, you keep your gaze fixed straight ahead, resisting the urge to steal another glance inside. If Sukuna were to catch you looking, even for a second, he’d know you saw him earlier. He always knows. And you’re not sure you’d be able to school your expression fast enough to keep the truth from spilling across your face.

Right now isn’t the time to deal with whatever it is Sukuna’s got going on. Right now, you just want to have fun with your friends. You can deal with anything else once you get home.

That’s what you keep telling yourself.

Upon re-entering the living room, you notice the show from earlier has already been turned off, the soft hum of music filling the space instead—low, rhythmic beats that sink into the atmosphere like a gentle pulse. Yuji is sprawled across the couch on his back with a half-eaten chip bag laying forgotten on his lap, one arm tucked behind his head, the other drumming lazy fingers against his stomach in time with the music. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, his expression distant, no doubt lost somewhere in the hazy lull of his high.

Nobara mirrors his sprawl on the floor, phone in hand, absentmindedly scrolling as she occasionally pops a chip into her mouth. You retake your spot beside her, snatching one from the bag without a word.

“Do you think that grass is, like, the earth’s pubic hair?”

“Yuji. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Nobara responds immediately. Based on her reply, you can only assume this has been going on for a while.

“I’m just saying! It makes sense if you think about it.”

“He’s kinda got a point,” you add with an amused tilt of your lips.

“Please, don’t encourage him.”

“You guys just need to get on my level. Nobody’s on my level,” Yuji pouts.

Before anyone can respond, Megumi reappears, looking far better than he did before. His complexion is no longer pale, his movements steadier, the color returned to his cheeks. He runs a hand through his hair as he steps into the room, shaking off the last remnants of his ordeal.

“Welcome back, buddy!” Yuji exclaims, immediately sitting up to make room for him on the couch. “We were worried about you! Were you fighting demons in there or what?”

Megumi levels a deadpan look at him before scanning the room, his gaze settling on you and Nobara before he sinks back into his previous spot. In one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes the bag of chips right off Yuji’s lap with a little more force than necessary.

“Nobody speaks of this outside of this room,” he says, voice flat as he pops a chip into his mouth. “Or you’re all dead.”

“Alright, jeez. Relax. Not like we’ve never greened out before,” Nobara mutters without looking up from her phone.

As the night winds down, conversations fade into a comfortable lull, and Nobara suggests putting on a movie. You settle in as it plays, watching it unfold on screen, but your mind is elsewhere now.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about what you saw in Yuji’s room—Sukuna lying there, his hands fisted in his hair like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will, seemingly teetering on the edge of some sort of breakdown.

You’ve never seen him like that, so unguarded, so vulnerable. You’ve seen him express emotion, sure. Anger, usually. Or quieter flickers hidden beneath sharp words and sharper smiles. But you’ve never seen something like that, not from him. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Is it because of me?

The question nags at you, digging into your ribs like a phantom dagger, whispering doubts into the corners of your mind.

Would he be angry if he knew you saw him like that? Or would he shut you out even more?

The idea sends a wave of sadness through you. Your heart aches for him. Whatever it is he’s going through, you have a sinking feeling that he’ll never open up, no matter how much you pry.

You shift in your spot, eyes flitting toward Yuji’s bedroom before quickly turning away.

Don’t.

The urge to check on him gnaws at you, but after the cold shoulder he’s been giving you all day, you doubt he’d give you the answers you’re looking for.

So instead, you decide it’s time to head home for the night. Yujis passed out anyway, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the movie started, and Megumi looks like he’s close behind him. You stand, gathering your things as you whisper your goodbyes, heading to the door.

Just as your fingers curl around the doorknob and open it to step outside, Sukuna appears, rounding the corner with his usual quiet grace. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t look anywhere but forward. He just slips past you and steps out the door ahead of you, carefully maneuvering his body so that his arm doesn’t so much as slightly brush your own.

You exhale slowly, watching his back as he strides ahead, his steps long and deliberate. You’re not surprised to see him keeping up his silent act. He doesn’t know that you saw him in Yuji’s room, after all. He doesn’t know you stood there, rooted in place, witnessing him beginning to unravel at the seams.

You step outside after him, the cold air a sharp contrast to the cozy warmth of Yuji’s apartment, slapping you like an icy wake-up call. Sukuna is already way ahead of you. The wind tugs at the strands of his hair, but he doesn’t react—just keeps walking, his movements purposeful, controlled.

By the time you reach the car, he’s already inside, the door shutting with a firm click. You sigh, tightening the grip on your keys.

You settle into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. The hum of the car feels louder than usual in the empty space between you. Neither of you says a word.

You want to say something, anything, to break this awkward tension. But… what can you say? You glance over in his direction briefly, but Sukuna is turned away, the side of his face barely visible in the dim light coming off the dashboard. You can’t tell if he’s avoiding you, or just lost in his own thoughts. Probably both. Either way, you can feel the distance continuing to grow between you with every minute that ticks by.

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to demand an explanation for his behavior today.

Just drive.

When you finally pull into the parking lot to your apartment, Sukuna doesn’t wait. As soon as the car comes to a stop and you shut the engine off, he’s already out, his door slamming shut before you can un-click your seatbelt.

You watch his back as he walks ahead, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace just to keep up. With every step, frustration burns hotter inside of you, winding itself around the ache that’s been sitting there since you saw him in Yuji’s room.

Why won’t he let you in? He’s hurting, you saw it with your own eyes. So why is he still keeping you at arm’s length? Why does he insist on suffering in silence when you’re right here?

By the time you reach the door to your apartment, your chest feels tight with your unspoken thoughts, the urge to voice them aloud becoming harder and harder to resist. You step inside right behind him, closing the door softly despite your inner turmoil threatening to spill over. And once again, Sukuna moves past you without a word, already striding down the hall, probably planning to disappear to wherever the hell he goes when he doesn’t want to be seen.

You make a quick decision. You’ve had enough of being ignored. You can’t just keep pretending everything is fine, like you’re sure he intends to. You have to say something.

“Sukuna.”

He stops, turning halfway around to face you. You study him carefully, searching for even the faintest trace of what you witnessed earlier—the tension in his jaw, the desolation in his face, the silent war he was waging within himself.

But there’s nothing.

Where there should be emotion—something raw and real—there is only an empty stare, a hollow reflection of the man you know lurks beneath his mask.

Cold. Dark. Void.

It’s a door slammed shut, an unspoken message that whatever moment of weakness you glimpsed was never meant for you.

The air between you grows infinitely heavier, colder. You can almost physically feel it, the absence of him, like something vital has been drained from the space he occupies. It prickles at your skin, wrapping itself around you, a quiet, almost suffocating numbness that mirrors the emptiness in his gaze.

He raises his brows at you, waiting for you to continue.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“Have I?” his voice is steady, indifferent.

You fold your arms across your chest, feeling your irritation finally rising to the surface. “Yes. You haven’t said a word to me all day. You haven’t even looked at me, not since—“ you cut yourself off, afraid to bring up the almost-kiss directly, “not since last night.”

Sukuna turns away, dismissing you with the shift of his shoulders, as if the conversation itself is beneath him. “There’s nothing to say,” he replies flatly, his tone impersonal, like he’s already decided this discussion isn’t worth his time.

But you refuse to allow him to slip through your fingers so easily. “Come on, don’t do that,” you step closer to him, determined to not let him brush it off, “don’t just… shut me out. Haven’t we moved past this?” your voice softens, the concern evident in your words.

Sukuna remains still, his shoulders drawn tight, his entire body wound like a thread stretched too thin. He doesn’t turn to respond, but his silence speaks louder than any answer he could give. And still, you push, even knowing it might only drive him further away.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” you continue, your frustration giving way to something dangerously close to pleading. “I’ve opened up to you about everything—about my past, my ex, my life. You’ve basically seen it all. But you? You’ve given me nothing. You hide behind this wall like you’re… some… untouchable thing.”

At that, Sukuna finally turns his head, just slightly, his narrowed eyes settling on you over his shoulder. There’s a shift in the way his eyes almost darken, like a tide pulling back before the wave crashes. His voice is low, almost a growl.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

His question stings, cutting deep. Your throat constricts, like his own words have wrapped themselves tight around your airway, but you swallow hard, willing yourself to push through it.

“I want you to stop pretending that this means nothing to you,” you say, gesturing between the two of you, between the space that feels impossibly vast despite how close you stand, “that I mean nothing to you.”

For a moment, he just stares blankly at you in response. Then, without warning, a low, humorless laugh escapes him, dry and sharp, like the crack of a splintering bone. “You think this… whatever this is, means something to me?”

You take a breath, the words that have been stuck inside you for days, weeks, finally crashing to the surface.

“I know it does,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts, “and I know you feel it too, Sukuna. You’re not as detached as you think you are.”

He whips around at that, his face twisting, a sharp flash of anger breaking through his emotionless exterior. His brows pull together in disbelief, a deep furrow forming between them.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he snaps, his voice sharp. “Let me guess, you think just because we’re stuck in this bond, you can ‘fix’ me, is that it? You think I can feel anything? Love? Don’t be foolish.”

You’re taken aback by his words, his sudden anger. This is not how you wanted this conversation to go at all. But it’s happening now, spiraling out of control right in front of you, and there’s no turning back.

“I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just asking you to let me in.” You step closer, desperate to break through the icy wall he continues to throw up, to finally see the real him that he’s been hiding behind it. You’re tired of him pretending there’s nothing left of the man he once was.

Fuck it. You might as well let it all out.

“I’m not like her, Sukuna.”

His reaction is immediate. Sukuna’s body stiffens, his shoulders locking into place as if he’s just been struck. His eyes widen dangerously as his stare burns straight through you, unsettling you to your core.

“What?” His voice is low, quiet, but full of warning, like a blade pressed to your throat.

Your pulse pounds rapidly in your ears, your instincts screaming at you to stop and retreat, but you can’t stop yourself. The words continue to spill out.

“Look, I know about Uraume. I know what she did to you. I—“

“If I were you, I’d choose my next words very carefully,” he interrupts, his tone razor-sharp and dripping with venom.

You really should stop talking. Any rational person would. But the next words are already on your tongue, your desperation outweighing your better judgment. If you just keep pushing, if you can just make him see—he’ll believe you. He has to.

“I’m not her, Sukuna. You can trust me. I would never do that to you.”

His eyes flash, cold rage igniting in them like a distant storm, dark and inevitable. He takes a slow step toward you, his presence suddenly overwhelming, and you have to lock your legs in place to fight the urge to step back in response.

“Since you think you know so much,” he growls, his voice dripping with contempt, “then surely you know what happened to her, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head in response, your voice sounding much smaller and less confident than before. “No, I don’t.”

His expression changes, the sharp edges of his fury settling into something eerily calm. Too calm. His lips curl, not into a smirk, but something that resembles more of a grimace, though his eyes remain wide, uncanny and hollow.

“I killed her.”

He takes another step closer, and a sudden, primal fear rises inside you, sharp and instinctual. Your body tenses as you cower back.

His jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, a shadow of something—pain, maybe rage—contorts his features. But it’s gone in an instant, swallowed expertly by that cold, unrelenting mask.

“She screamed,” he continues, his voice dipping lower, “begged for mercy, for forgiveness.” A slow, humorless chuckle escapes him, causing a chill to run along your flesh. “As if it meant anything. As if I would ever grant her either.”

He takes a final step forward, and you don’t move, don’t breathe.

“I tore her apart, piece by piece for what she did to me. Watched her blood stain the ground like spilled ink. And when she finally stopped screaming, when she gasped that last, pitiful breath—“ he leans in, just slightly, “it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.”

Your stomach plummets, a sickening drop that leaves you dizzy. His words coil around your throat like a noose, tightening, choking. You had considered the possibility—of course you had. Sukuna had killed before. You had seen it yourself in the visions of his past. But those had been in battle, acts of war and conquest.

This… this was something else entirely.

A slow, merciless dismantling. A deliberate, calculated destruction of someone he once loved. Nausea rises in the pit of your stomach, threatening to bubble up into your throat. You stare at him, at the thing standing in front of you, and for the first time, you feel like you’re truly seeing him. The demon. The unrepentant, merciless king who had bathed in the blood of those who wronged him.

The Sukuna you’ve come to know—the one who met your wit with dry amusement, the one whose touch had once felt gentle against your skin, who had almost kissed you just yesterday—is gone.

“I…”

You take another step back, the words struggling to form on your trembling lips.

“You’re nothing like her,” he sneers, his voice laced with disdain, “and you never will be. You think just because you have some sort of odd little obsession with me, that makes you special? That I could ever feel for you what I once felt for her?” His lips curl into something akin to a snarl, “I am a monster. I kill, I destroy, I devour.”

His words strike like a blade, each syllable leaving his lips like tiny knives carving into your heart, stripping it away piece by piece, leaving you hollow. You can do nothing but watch, wide-eyed, empty, nothing left but the overwhelming ache where hope used to be.

“You’re nothing to me,” he continues, cruel and cutting. “Your pathetic little life is a mere speck in the grand scheme of things. I have been here for centuries. And I will continue to be here long after you’ve rotted, buried deep and forgotten underground.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, your vision blurring around the edges as your eyes begin to fill with unshed tears. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no words. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of his cold dismissal of you.

“I’m not capable of love, girl, and you’d do well to remember that.” He says, his voice quieter now, but no less harsh.

“I’m not some human you can change and mold into a version that you prefer. I’m a demon. That’s all I’ll ever be.” He takes a step back, his face hard and unrelenting. “And if you think for even a second that I could ever care about you, then you’re even more fucking pathetic than I thought.”

The tears come fast, scorching trails down your flushed cheeks as your breath turns ragged. Your vision blurs, the room shrinking in around you, and all you can think is that you need to get away. Away from him, from his words still ringing in your skull, splintering through your chest like jagged glass.

You don’t look at him. You don’t even think. You just run.

You barely make it to your bedroom before the first sob rips free, raw and uncontrollable. The door slams behind you, but it does nothing to stop the pain from clawing its way up your throat, your shoulders heaving with the force of it. You stumble forward, collapsing onto your bed, curling in on yourself like a wounded animal.

Your hands tangle in your hair, gripping tightly, desperately, as if you could anchor yourself, as if you could stop the ache spreading through your chest, sinking deep into your bones. But it’s useless. The sobs wrack through you, shaking you to your very core, your breaths coming sharp and fast, too fast, until you’re gasping, until it feels like you’re drowning in it, in him, in everything you thought you had and everything he just tore apart in an instant.

And still, his voice lingers. Still, it hurts.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t feel. He’s a demon—a creature of pure, unrelenting cruelty. You knew that. You’ve always known that. And still, somehow, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope that there was something more beneath all that rage and ruin, something real. Something for you.

But there isn’t.

There never was.

You’re just a pathetic, lovesick fool, chasing a dream that was never yours to begin with. He’s not a man. He’s not someone to be understood or saved, not someone who could ever love you back. He is darkness, destruction, a force of nature that does not bend, does not break, does not care.

Your stomach twists with the sheer humiliation of it, shame seeping into your skin like poison. How could you let yourself fall? How could you have been so blind?

Your body trembles as you curl in tighter, rocking slightly, trying to push it away, to find some shred of comfort in the wreckage. But the thoughts won’t stop. The hurt won’t stop. It digs into your ribs, carves itself into your heart, reminding you over and over and over—

“You’re nothing to me.”

A strangled sob tears from your throat, raw and broken, as you bury your face into the pillow, desperate to muffle the sound. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The ache in your chest is too big, too unbearable, clawing at your ribs, crushing the air from your lungs.

For a fleeting moment, you think about leaving. Just getting up and walking out the door, disappearing into the night, never looking back. Maybe if you run fast enough, far enough, you can outrun this pain, escape the weight of what you’ve done, what you let yourself believe.

But where would you go?

There is nowhere he wouldn’t follow. No distance you could put between you that the bond wouldn’t snap back into place, dragging you right back to him. He is inescapable.

And you are trapped.

Your chest tightens violently, a crushing, suffocating weight settling onto it, making it impossible to breathe. The walls feel smaller, the air thinner, the room closing in like a prison. You squeeze your eyes shut, fists clenching in the sheets, trying to steady yourself, to think, to breathe.

Breathe.

Eventually, the sobs fade, not because the pain lessens, but because your body simply can’t keep up with it anymore. You lie still, curled in on yourself, drained beyond measure. The tears don’t stop, though—they slip silently down your face, soaking into the pillow, leaving behind the sticky remnants of grief. The hurt remains, dull now, a hollow, throbbing thing inside your chest, like an open wound that refuses to close.

You take a trembling breath, staring blankly at the wall as the crushing silence of the room presses in around you, thick and suffocating.

“You’re nothing to me.”

The words replay in your head, slow and deliberate, sinking deeper with every repetition. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe you were foolish, delusional to think you could ever be anything more than a passing amusement to him. To believe you could reach something inside him that simply doesn’t exist.

And yet.

Even as you think it, even as you try to carve the truth into your own heart, a part of you refuses to believe it. Because you know better.

You’ve seen it. Felt it.

Despite his cruelty, despite the ice in his voice, despite the way he shut you out like you were nothing—you know there’s something beneath it all, something he won’t let himself admit.

But if he refuses to acknowledge it… does it even matter?

The thought lingers, heavy and unresolved, sinking deep into the marrow of your bones.

It shouldn’t matter. It can’t matter.

As you lie there, hollowed out and aching, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs like iron, you know this wound won’t fade so easily. It’s carved too deep, settled too far inside you.

So you let the tears fall, silent and endless, tracing paths down your skin like a grief that refuses to be swallowed. You close your eyes against the darkness, but there is no escape—not from this, not from him.

All you can do now is endure.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☰ Taglist: @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @after-laughter-come-tears @rizzyjuney609 @prezzleyy

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

i love you, i’m sorry

── hockey player!rafe x fem!singer!reader

ONE | TWO

click *HERE* for the description +table of contents

january 1 ~

liked by taylorswift and others…

yn.sings new year new me! jehdjssjfjajd jk anyways might release a song tomorrow idk tho

sarah.cam just did the presave link from your stories 😙 miss you so much!

↳ yn.sings ugh my baby i miss you!! thank you 💕

johnb let’s goooooo 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 and to think i’ve known you since you were asking for help putting your songs on cd’s so you could send them to record labels 😭

↳ yn.sings stop i will cry right now!!!!

jjmaybank that’s my girl! heard the song yesterday, fucking incredible. proud of you ❤️

↳ yn.sings thank you j ❤️❤️

↳ heywardpope wait why did HE get to hear the song 🤨

↳ jjmaybank what’s with the HE?

↳ kiecarrera yeah why did HE 🤨🤨🤨

↳ jjmaybank i have a simple answer, its obviously because she loves me more than both of you 🤷🏼‍♂️

↳ yn.sings stfu j you’re gonna get me in trouble jdenzjssndjdjs but really guys it’s because he asked me to send him whatever i’m releasing next. i don’t ever wanna just shove my music in your faces so i only send stuff if you ask

↳ jjmaybank no, it’s definitely what i said.

↳ sarah.cam baby idc, i want your music to punch me in the heart every single time.

↳ johnb same here tbh.

↳ yn.sings hehehe okay i’ll send it to you guys now!

user1 who are all of those people she’s replying to and why am i not one 😭😭😭

↳ yn.hq friends from back home. if you watch her stories, they always post when they’re together. well yn.sings does. her friends are all private accounts so idk about them. and before you ask, no her and jjmaybank are not dating. they’ve been best friends since they were 8.

↳ user1 ahh, gotcha. thanks!

↳ yn.sings oh god you’ve summoned him

↳ jjmaybank yeah we’re not dating because she rejected me ✊🏻😔

↳ yn.sings jackson im gonna kill you shdhdksndj

↳ jjmaybank first name and a threat, kinky 😛

↳ jjmaybank wait fuck i got the notification put me back on close friends hahdbdhd

itsmekelce snippet you sent sounds good! 🎧

↳ yn.sings thank you kelc!

↳ kiecarrera umm 🤨

taylorswift such a good song! you should probably, idk, perform it for like a lot of people 🤭

↳ yn.sings the fact that you know who i am is still insane even 2+ years later. thank you!! also, you’re right i totally should 🤭🤭🤭

↳ user2 wait!!!! what the fuck does this mean can a swiftie decode this secret message thanks

↳ user3 taylor’s rumored to be going on tour, but we don’t know when. maybe yn.sings is the opening act?

↳ user4 would taylor use her? she’s kind of already a big artist.

↳ user3 true but opening for taylor especially if it’s for the whole tour, would for sure be a huge step in her career.

↳ user5 i will kick a child out of the way to see that concert.

topperthornton heard you’ll be back in the obx soon

TAG LIST ── 5 of 50 spots taken!

@kissylec | @empath-bunny | @pillowprincess4him | @fieryghxul | @imtalkinnonsense

[wutheringmights]

CTB warriors AND 44th President of the United States Barack Obama?????

Hello everyone! A group of friends and I got into a discussion that spanned multiple weeks about the true definition of a "babygirl" in media. It started as a discussion of "babygirls" in Linked Universe fanfiction but soon expanded to mainstream media, and as such most examples are from this mainstream media for a wider audience (aside from War Crimes Warriors from Call Them Brothers by @wutheringmights, whose fabulous work sparked this debate). Please note that the definition is still under construction, and that all examples may not fit within it 100%, but I believe still generally match the vibes of babygirl. Now, without further ado:

Babygirl Definition

Committing/has committed war crimes (*)

Has Emotions TM about the war crimes, often doubles down

Usually male?

Is, at some point in his life, a sad wet cat (**)

Has experienced the Horrors (***)

Make the Horrors everybody else's problem

Attractive (????)

To fans: endearing but also frustrating, misunderstood

To non-fans: hateable

(Used to) have an ego/pride/"reputation" (which may lead to the aforementioned war crimes)

Has a vulnerability they're stupid about, are aware they're being stupid about it, and yet continue to be stupid about it (passion project, child, etc).

Babygirl examples: War Crime Warriors from Call Them Brothers, Jayce Arcane, Hohenheim FMAB, Zuko ATLA, Boromir LOTR, Elphaba Wicked, Anakin Star Wars, Odysseus, Bill Nye, Stanley and Stanford Pines Gravity Falls, Jamie Lannister, Obama, Howl Moving Castle, Katniss and Haymitch The Hunger Games, The 9th Doctor, Dean Winchester, Bucky Barnes.

(*) War crimes do not refer specifically to acts that violate the Geneva Conventions, but rather to any general act that would be considered inexcusable or otherwise extremely unsavory by the in-universe population. Ex: Jayce accidentally killing a Zaunite child.

(**) For definition of sad wet cat, just imagine a sopping wet cat caught in a sudden, unexpected rainstorm and you're there. A full definition list, like the one above, has not been made: but this term, generally defined, is a period of time in which one feels self-loathing, disgust, hatred, and powerlessness towards oneself, others, and/or the current situation at hand. Ex: Zuko's banishment arc

(***) A traumatic experience (sometimes more than one) that changes them irrevocably. It propels the character forwards into the plot in a way that they do not anticipate, enjoy, and/or completely understand, but have no choice but to adapt to anyways. Ex: Katniss' reaping Thank you to @bittirsweeteer @not-freyja @life-in-winter @elle-rosewater @hytiaa @cinis0 @anime-obsessed @whatvioletdoes-blog @lunaopus @glowmin @gia-d and @undertheopenskyfor contributing to the discussion, that was a fun few conversation (if I've forgotten anyone, please let me know). This is mostly being posted for my own amusement, but I hope that anyone else who stumbles across this post finds it mildly amusing! You're welcome to reblog with your own babygirls, lol

[cece693]

ANOTEHR PART OF HR LOKIS BROTHER X BUCKY OLEALLSPE I LAV U 😭😭😣😣☺️

He's Cute Pt. 3

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: ongoing series because people like this, which is weird cause I never thought this would go off, but I don't hate it, loki makes an appearance, bucky is protective over reader, having the 'talk', even bad guys have people they love

Bucky’s hands still shook with lingering excitement whenever he recalled your last date. The two of you had been going out for a while now—casual walks through the city, late-night movie marathons in the Avengers Compound, even that weekend trip to a cozy little café upstate—and with every new memory you made, Bucky found himself falling deeper in love.

He’d never expected life to feel this…comforting. Even the nightmares that sometimes plagued him at night dulled around you. You had a knack for gently coaxing him out of his shell, whether through quiet conversation or a playful nudge toward some new, exciting Midgardian treat you wanted him to try.

Yet, despite this whirlwind of affection, Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. I love you. They stuck in his throat every time he tried, leaving him feeling both frustrated and a little guilty. It seemed too soon, too fast, too much. What if you weren’t ready? What if it scared you off?

So he kept that admission locked away, consoling himself with the fact that you hadn’t pressed him for big declarations yet—though you often looked at him with such tender warmth that he thought, maybe you already know.

The following morning, you greeted Bucky with your usual bright smile, eyes shining like you’d never seen a single hardship in your life. He knew that wasn’t true—you’d told him your share of Asgardian struggles and complicated family drama—but somehow, you still managed to see the world with a hopeful gaze.

“Good morning, Bucky!” you chirped, bounding into the common area. “Did you sleep well?”

He offered a small, affectionate smile. “Yeah,” he fibbed—well, half-fibbed, because seeing you now made every lost hour of rest worth it. “Ready for training?”

“Absolutely.” You picked up a spare towel. “But how about we grab coffee after? There’s this new flavor—mint mocha, I think? Wanda says it’s oddly refreshing.”

Bucky’s heart did that little flip it always did around you. “Sure,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

You never made it to the gym—or to the coffee shop. Halfway to the training room, the shrill wail of the Compound’s alarm cut through the corridors. Overhead lights flickered ominously, and Tony’s voice crackled through the intercom: “All hands on deck—Loki’s back, and he’s making a huge mess downtown. We need everyone. Now.”

Your face fell, a complicated mix of worry and anger. The last time Loki caused chaos, it ended poorly for Earth and for your family. “I’m sorry,” you murmured to Bucky, already moving to join the others. “I know you’ve had enough of these battles…”

He shook his head, grabbing his gear. “Not your fault.”

Together, you raced to the Quinjet, where Thor and the rest of the team were quickly assembling. Thor’s jaw was set, eyes stormy with concern. He muttered something about Loki “never learning,” while Tony, Sam, and Natasha readied themselves for battle. Bucky checked his weapon, heart thudding. He threw you a sidelong glance—he hated seeing the anxious tension in your posture. I’ll keep you safe, he vowed silently, one way or another.

New York’s skyline was tinged green in patches—every illusion Loki summoned seemed designed to confuse both civilians and the team. Tony soared overhead, blasting illusions and trying to pinpoint the real Loki, while Bruce (in Hulk form) tore through illusions that tried to tangle him. Thor, you, and Wanda worked together to dispel the biggest illusions, your combined powers punching holes in Loki’s illusions wherever you could.

Bucky fired round after round at illusory beasts, his sharpened instincts helping him sense the flicker of what was real and what wasn’t. He kept an eye on you, too—whenever you paused to catch your breath, or pressed a hand to your temple from overusing your Asgardian abilities, he felt the urge to run to your side.

He didn’t see the sudden swirl of green magic until it was too late. A shimmering barrier snapped into place around him, cutting him off from the rest of the fight. Bucky spun around, rifle at the ready, but the illusions outside the barrier went oddly silent. The world beyond turned hazy, muffled, leaving him alone in a translucent dome of Loki’s making.

“Sergeant Barnes,” came a sardonic voice behind him. Bucky spun, rifle raised, to find Loki standing there, tall and regal in his horned headpiece, green robes swaying. His gaze was cold, but there was a particular glint in those eyes—like a predator toying with its prey.

“Loki,” Bucky growled, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Oh, please,” Loki drawled, waving a dismissive hand. “Drop your useless weapon. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so long ago.”

Bucky hesitated, jaw set tight. He didn’t lower his rifle, but he didn’t fire either. Around them, the city echoed with chaos—screams, blasts of magic, and the roar of rampaging illusions. Yet here they stood in a strange, still corner, as if Loki’s mere presence had carved out a pocket of calm in the madness.

“What do you want?” Bucky demanded, striving to keep the tremor from his voice. He’d been in fights far worse than this—yet something about Loki’s eerie composure sparked a sense of dread.

“What I want…” Loki repeated, tipping his head in mock consideration. “Hardly matters. I’m only here because it has come to my attention that you’ve taken an interest in my dear brother.”

Bucky blinked, confusion warring with anger. “Thor? I’m not—”

Loki let out a theatrical sigh. “Not that lughead, no.” He narrowed his eyes, smirk twisting. “I speak of my younger brother. The gentler one—(Y/N). The one you’ve been courting.”

At those words, Bucky’s grip on his rifle loosened involuntarily, surprise flickering across his features. “That’s between me and him. Stay out of it.”

Loki’s predatory grin only widened. “Oh, how adorable. A mortal telling me where I can and cannot interfere.” Magic crackled around his fingertips, illuminating the sinister shape of his horns. “Let’s make something clear, Sergeant Barnes: I may indulge in chaos, but I do not tolerate anyone trifling with my brother’s heart.”

Bucky felt a surge of protectiveness over you, matching Loki’s venom in a different way. “I’d never hurt him. Don’t act like you know me.”

“But I do know you,” Loki countered, taking a step forward, voice dropping to a chilling hush. “You’re a man of ghosts, of nightmares. You wear your sins on that metal arm for the world to see. Don’t assume I haven’t researched your past. The Winter Soldier…” He let the words linger. “You have a trail of blood behind you, mortal.”

Bucky’s pulse pounded in his ears. He refused to look away. “That’s over. He sees me for who I am now, and I’d do anything to protect him.”

A pause, and Loki’s lips curled in something close to a sneer—though a flicker of surprise glinted in his eyes. “Oh, I believe you think that,” he said. “But let me be perfectly clear: I might make sport of realms; I might sow chaos when it amuses me. However, if you ever harm my brother—if you break his heart or drag him into your darkness—I will ensure your suffering is something legends are written about.”

A chill coursed down Bucky’s spine, but he refused to flinch. “I—care about him,” he said softly, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I’d never do anything to hurt him.”

“Good,” Loki whispered, eyes glinting dangerously. “Then we understand each other.” He paused, scanning Bucky’s features as though searching for lies. “He has always been different. Too kind for Asgard. My father often overlooked him, but I—” Loki’s lips curled in faint distaste, “I won’t.”

Bucky shifted, uneasy at this glimpse of Loki’s protective side. “If you really care,” he said carefully, “then let this go. Stop this chaos you’re creating.”

Loki rolled his eyes, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m not here to debate my plans with you, mortal. I’m here to warn you. Do right by him, or face consequences far worse than any Hydra program.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around his weapon. He hated being cornered like this, but a flicker of understanding—of pity, even—touched him. Loki’s brand of protectiveness was twisted, but it was rooted in genuine concern for his younger brother. “Message received,” Bucky said, voice gruff. Loki’s eyes narrowed one last time, as if to emphasize his threat. Then, with a theatrical swirl of his cape, he vanished in a burst of green light. Instantly, the barrier separating Bucky from the rest of the fight melted away, sound and motion crashing back in.

He stumbled slightly, adrenaline hammering in his veins. Looking up, he saw you rushing toward him over the rubble-strewn street, worry etched in your features. Behind you, illusions flickered and dissipated as Thor and Wanda worked together to dismantle Loki’s hold on the city. “Bucky!” you shouted, reaching him in a few quick strides. “Are you okay? Loki’s illusions—what happened?”

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath, lowering his rifle all the way. “He just wanted to talk. Threatened me if I ever—” He hesitated, mind flicking to the exact words Loki used. “If I ever hurt you.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “He trapped you in the middle of a battle to warn you about me?”

Bucky nodded, swallowing a knot in his throat. He forced a small, wry smile. “Yeah. Guess big brothers come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Gods,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your temple. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky said quietly. He reached out, resting a tentative hand on your shoulder. “I told him I wouldn’t hurt you. And I meant it.”

Something in your gaze softened. Around you, the remaining illusions fell away with shattering bursts of green energy. The Avengers closed in, readying for Loki’s next move—but for a moment, it was just you and Bucky standing there amid the debris, an unspoken promise shining between you. “Come on,” you said softly, covering his hand with yours. “We should help the others.”

Bucky squeezed your shoulder, nodding. “Right behind you.” And as the two of you headed off to rejoin the fray, Bucky felt a fierce protectiveness surge within him—one that matched Loki’s, if not in cruelty, then in devotion. Because no trickster god, no illusions, and no ghosts of his past would stop him from doing right by you.

[quintessenceofdust88]

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Pretty please!!!! 🥹

Hiiii Liz! Of course! Anything for you my love ♥

Here are 30-ish sentences for New Tides!

- 🌊 (cont. from here)

“Flowers, huh?” He asks with a chuckle, deliberately ignoring Sal’s ever growing smirk, and Vivie nods fiercely. 

“It’ll make him happy, Daddy, I promise!” She tells him, and wow. Is Tommy really going to take dating advice from his five-year-old? 

With a smile, he realizes that he might, and that he’s already wondering if Evan would prefer lilies or roses. And then he decides that, whatever flowers he gets, they need to be yellow, because the man is bright like the sun, and that’s what Tommy likes the most about him.

“Alright, if I’m stopping by a flower shop, I have to go or I’ll be late,” He decides, and then he presses a kiss to Vivie’s forehead. “Be good for uncle Sal, will you, pixie?”

“Of course, Daddy! Will you say good night to me when you come back?” She asks, and Tommy nods, pinching her chin affectionately. 

“Yeah, baby, I promise”, he tells her, and Vivie beams as if he promised her the world. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, and Tommy tries not to feel guilty for doing this. Ever since she was born, he hasn’t dated much, because she’s been his priority. And frankly, he hadn’t met anyone that would make him truly want to date. Not until Evan. And as happy as Tommy is, he wonders if he should.  

Sal seems to sense what he’s thinking, because he gives Tommy an unimpressed look, crossing his arms. He comes closer, making sure Vivie is not hearing them.

“Go. I haven’t seen you do something for yourself in five years, Tommy. Vivie will be fine. You deserve to have a life too.”

“Thanks, Sal,” Tommy says, squeezing his shoulder. “And thanks for taking care of her.”

“What are you two talking about?!” VIvie asks curiously, and Tommy chuckles. She’s way too curious for her own good. 

“I was just reassuring your daddy that we will not watch movies until late, and that I won’t let you have chocolate popcorn”, Sal tells her with a wink, and Vivie giggles.

Tommy does his best to hold his laughter, pointing at the two of them. 

“Behave, you both. I’ll see you later,” He tells them, and with a last kiss to Vivie’s forehead, he’s gone to wait for his Uber. 

As he stands on the sidewalk, Tommy takes a deep breath, and smiles like a besotted idiot, his heart beating fast in his heart. And he wonders, briefly, if Evan is as nervous as him. 

Selfishly, he hopes the answer is yes.  

--

There you go Liz, I hope you like it my love!!! 💓💕

(Let this also double as my Several Sentence Sunday in which I was tagged by @bidisasterevankinard and @laundryandtaxesworld ♥)

Np tagging @typicalopposite @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @fairytalegonewronga03 and whoever else would like to join!! 💓💓💓

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Went almost two months without doing art, and listening to my choir director’s 5 year daughter talk about her My Little Pony toys got the spark going for a bit. Then again I was a gen 1 and gen 4 fan. We’ll see how far this goes. Maybe I’ll make a custom coloring book for her.

Anyway to the art.

Now to explain the names. Well not the pony’s names but the species.

I always thought that calling the regular ones earth ponies was unimaginative and even a little disrespectful. So I changed the design to make them the biggest, gave them gem hooves, rock and earth powers, and Named them Claysdales.

Yeah same situation with Bat ponies. But the name was harder. Can’t call them thestrals cause I am pretty sure that is copyrighted. I was stumped until I put two random bits of information together. 1 Pegasus was originally the name of one individual winged horse and became a species name over time. 2 cavalum is the name of a bat winged horse in Portuguese mythology. If it worked once it works here. So now I named my batty ponies of the night Cavalum, and gave them sonar, night vision, the ability to control shadows and even travel through them, and dream walking.

Pegasi don’t change too much other then the mane and tail now being made of feathers. They of course walk on clouds and have wind and air magic and are very fast.

Unicorns I changed to be smaller and slimmer, almost deer like compared with the other pony species. And gave them the classic lion or ox tail seen in medieval art. Males will have a beard. Their powers include levitation, teleportation, and general magic which lets them mimic other creatures powers but at a lower strength level. Basically if it isn’t the first two they are a Jack of all trades and master of none.

The Chitiny…. Ok they are a mix of the flutter ponies in gen 1 and the changelings in gen 4 design wise, But still really different in the lore I am developing. The name comes from the words Chitin (what bug exoskeletons are made of) and Tiny, cause they are the smallest type of pony, standing at about a foot tall (fyi the claysdales range about five to six feet tall at the shoulder…. Yes I’m American). The antennas let them communicate with other Chitiny and people they have built a bond with telepathically. They can lift several times their weight (like ants and bees) they can make silk, honey, wax, royal jelly, and a sticky slime. Of and cling/crawl on walls. Yes they live in hives. Rosy Maple is from the Lepidop hive ruled by queen Luna and king Atlas.

Zebras I never understood why they weren’t used more in MLP. Anyway I wanted to give them a wild nature theme and am giving them powers to make plants grow faster and even move, and if you don’t think that is impressive let me just point out when the trees woke up in Narnia Prince Caspian. I will never get the image of tree roots dragging that one guy underground out of my head. Oh they can also understand animals.

Ok tagging people who I think will enjoy this. @artstaeus3600 @bianca-hooks123 @confusedshades @emacrow @hubedihubbe @kizzer55555 @pinkiemachine @tigertaurus22

Ooops quick edit. This isn’t all the pony species I thought up but was what I had time to draw. We still have the Kirin, the Kelpies, the alicorns and one I made up called the Najor. And about 11 other non-pony species that make up this world’s inhabitants. So there will be updates.

[hana-bobo-finch]

bug poetry #1 woooooooooooooooooooOOOOOO

Starting this off with my dear Dasymutilla Occidentalis, aka the red velvet ant or cow killer!!!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Midnight bristles. stripes of ruby.

Crescent needle, threaded, piercing

Into the flesh, burning, melting.

Shielding marvel, flightless beauty

Your warning cry, a shrill, sharp show

A siren’s song, undulating

Creaking, squeaking. Parasitic

Masterpiece, digging down below.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[magic-worms]

so like i did not expect at all for my tf2 baboon post to get so popular or to see a ton of new followers from it. but that’s what happened. i can’t believe you guys like isa so much

you like her?? my little baby monkey?? my seven year old sweet little baby typing monkey??? well you’re in luck because i like her too and i haven’t been able to stop drawing her. here’s some family doodles

+ a couple scoutlings ^_^

[critterishere]

Don’t ask why Lois Griffin is there,, she’s just chill like that

original images here ⬇️

[fungus-no69]

When I’m in a holding grudges for minor inconveniences competition but my opponent is cain

Blythe belongs to @thedolmainblog

[k1tty5]

hello :D please tell me more about your mezalian (is that how you spell it??) smalletho I will forever be indebted to you

(they are gorgeous I love them sm)

hey hi !! it would be my pleasure … (and I’ve been spelling it mezalean ??? but i have no idea LOL. there might be a canon spelling but i havent watched joels esmp1 since… probably since it ended. i will have to check sometime)

apologizing in advance because i will probably get very ramble-y!!

ummm. Oh god. How to start. Lets see. WELL. In this silly little au (i guess it has become a bit more than just me doodling designs LOL) in my head they have like this sort of zelink dynamic? obviously without all the zelda lore & stuff, just that kind of … okay forgive me I haven’t brushed up on my zelink lore for a good many years but. Like the princess and her personal knight that doesn’t really talk much sort of thing.

this made more sense in my head. But yeah. They have the vibes of zelink ? At least if i remember zelink right, I have a really bad memory :’) not exactly the same, i do think etho talks to joel (whereas if iirc link never really talks) - especially after getting to know him a bit - but just. they have the Vibes. You know?

I reckon Joel’s definitely very into sculpting in this au, maybe dabbles a little in painting - I imagine mezalea to be very heavy on art and expression in general. think you’d especially see lots of pottery and textiles all around the place. He probably also has an interest in some form of like. um. whats the word. Some sort of … fighting. lmao. Specifically thinking of fencing, i had this idea in my head that he’s watched Etho practice outside the palace at some point and is just absolutely fascinated and enamored. by both the practice and etho himself haha.

and for etho… talented swordsman? he is Not washed. i dont really have many ideas for his character in this au To be completely honest, mostly just of his personality. Although, I alsooo think he’s probably not actually from mezalea? I like to draw him with those pointy elf ears, and i think mezaleans are just humans. I cant remember if thats canon or not but um. mezaleans have human ears, so i’d imagine etho’s probably from like.. rivendelle? Is that. What it’s called. The elf guys? Are they elves??? Goodness I cant remember. Grimlands would make sense too since i THINK they’re kind of like. technical engineer guys? but i dont know what species they are um so ,,, yeah,,,,

i think joel’s probably a bit put off by etho at first, mostly just because he’s not super enthused about the idea of a personal guard, but also because the guys a bit odd, you know? but he’s also probably suuuper intrigued by him. he wants to figure this new guy out, and when they start talking a bit more, i think. They are both incredibly charmed by the other. head over heels? possibly.

most of my ideas of this au are just little scenes that are cute and silly but dont follow any main plot. I would love to write some one-shots of some of the ideas i have in the future, but as of right now im experiencing a bout of creative burnout and am busy with the holidays - spending time with family, so… not right now lol!

hopefully this is what you wanted,,,, i tend to get very ramble-y when talking about literally anything, so i do apologize for that haha, i am Not good at explaining things in simple ways, as i’ve said many a time before.

[darlingcloudie-9]

woe; my kny self insert be upon ye 😾😾

isn’t she cool like