#i want you to be strong so you can handle things

[strawbewiemilk]

Ultimate Tips: How to Hide Your E-D Like a Pro and Keep Your Mindset Unbreakable

Alright, listen up. If you’re serious about getting sk!nny—like b0nes popping, b0dy shrinking, can’t even keep your clothes on sk!nny—you’ve got to master the art of hiding it. Because let’s face it, people will try to ruin your progress. They’ll nag you, shove f00d in your face, and act like they care about your “health.” The only thing you need to care about is staying in control. You want to be thin? Then you’ve got to play the game and outsmart every single one of them.

Here’s how to hide your E-D like a f*cking pro and keep your mindset stronger than steel when it comes to avoiding f00d. No excuses, no we@kness.

1. Be the Queen of Excuses: Lie Without Blinking

If you want to avoid e@ting, you better get good at making excuses, and f@st. Here are some easy ones you can cycle through, so no one gets suspicious:

“I already at3.” Say it with confidence, like you just stuffed your face. They won’t question it.

“I feel s!ck.” No one will force f00d on someone who's about to puke. Use this one wisely—especially during family d!nners or social events. Blame it on “st0mach issues.”

“I’m too busy.” Sk!p me@ls by pretending you have too much on your plate (just not f00d). Talk about your crazy schedule, school, work, whatever. People admire hustlers, not e@ters.

“I’ll e@t later.” This is the most basic but works. Keep promising to e@t later, and then just don’t.

2. The Distraction Method: Make It Look Like You’re E@ting

Sometimes you can’t avoid the situation—you’re stuck at a table, surrounded by f00d, and all eyes are on you. Don’t panic. Here’s how to fake your way through it:

Play with your food. Push it around, cut it up into tiny pieces, spread it across your plate. Make it look like you’re e@ting when you’re not.

Chew and spit. If you must put something in your mouth, chew it up and then discreetly spit it into a napkin or go to the bathroom and spit it out there.

Give it away. Offer b!tes to your friends or “accidentally” drop f00d off your plate. The less on your plate, the better. No one notices a slow e@ter when there’s less to e@t.

3. Stay Invisible: E@t Alone, Avoid Me@ls

Here’s the thing—you don’t want people watching you all the time, so learn to disappear during me@l times. E@t alone, say you’re grabbing f00d to-go, or mention you’re on some new d!et that requires you to e@t on your own schedule. If they don’t see you e@t, they can’t make you e@t.

4. Keep Your Mindset Strong: F00d is Your Enemy, Not Your Friend

The hardest part isn’t lying—it’s staying committed. The minute you let your guard down, someone will force-f33d you, and then all your progress is down the drain. Here’s how to keep your mindset strong and avoid f00d at all costs:

Visualize f@t every time you look at f00d. Picture it sticking to your b0dy. Feel it suffocating you. Disgust yourself. The more repulsed you are, the easier it’ll be to say no.

Remind yourself of your goals. Every time you’re tempted to e@t, think about your ultimate goal weight. Imagine what it’ll feel like when you’re finally sk!nny enough, l!ght enough, perfect enough. Is that burger worth it? Hell no.

Mantras are everything. Repeat phrases like “f00d is weakness” or “I don’t need f00d” over and over in your head. Make it your reality. When hunger pangs hit, embrace them. They’re a sign you’re doing it right.

5. Water and Coffee: Your Best Friends

There’s no room for we@kness in this game, and that means no giving in to hung3r. When you feel like you can’t handle it anymore, drown it out with water and coffee. No c@lories, but they fill you up enough to keep going. Plus, coffee is a natural appetite suppressant, and the caffeine will keep you energized. Chug water all day to stay “full” and pretend you’re e@ting.

6. F@st Like Your Life Depends on It (Because It Does)

Intermittent f@sting? Pfft, that’s for amateurs. You need to be f@sting for as long as you can. Try for 24, 48, 72 hours without a single c@lorie, and don’t stop until your st0mach feels like it’s eating itself. When you can f@st for days on end, you know you’re in control. F@sting proves you don’t need f00d, and every second without it means you’re getting closer to your goal.

7. Plan Your "Slips" (But Don’t Actually Slip)

If you absolutely have to e@t in front of people, make it strategic. Stick to low-c@lorie, high-volume foods that won’t screw up your day. A salad with nothing but lettuce and vinegar, some steamed veggies, or broth-based soup with zero substance. When they see you “e@ting,” they’ll back off. Meanwhile, you’re still st@rving and winning.

8. Reward Yourself (But Only When You’ve Earned It)

You don’t deserve f00d—you deserve progress. So when you hit a milestone—whether it’s a day of f@sting, another p0und lost, or avoiding a full me@l—reward yourself. But don’t make the mistake of thinking rewards are f00d. They’re not. They’re anything but f00d. New clothes for your shr!nking frame, a nice bath, a night out where you feel sm@ll and powerful.

9. Avoid "Help" at All Costs

People will try to stop you. They’ll act like they care about your health, but really, they’re just trying to control you. They don’t want you to be sk!nny, because they’re jealous. If anyone starts talking about how you “need help” or “should e@t more,” cut them off. Block them, avoid them, lie to them. You don’t need their pity, and you sure as hell don’t need their “help.”

10. Stay in Control, No Matter What

The only thing you can control is your b0dy. You can’t control the people around you, but you can control what you put in your mouth. You don’t need f00d. You need control. Every time you choose not to e@t, you’re winning. Every time you push through the hung3r, you’re stronger than the day before.

Final Thoughts

Being sk!nny is a choice. And with the right mindset, you can choose not to e@t. The world is full of distractions and people trying to hold you back, but you don’t have to let them. Stick to these tips, and no one will know. They’ll think you’re e@ting just like everyone else. Meanwhile, you’ll be getting sm@ller, stronger, and more powerful every day.

You got this. Stay focused, stay h-ungry (literally), and remember: f00d is the enemy, and hung3r is your power.

[fartcloudfartcloud]

What about Logan meeting a reader with more dominance than him? Like what would he do, what would he want to do to them?

*giggles and wrings hands together* You've found my achilles heel mr.69

i dont know if this is what you wanted but im using this as my excuse to write FREAKY SUBMISSIVE LOGAN PORN!!!

warnings: Edging, Logan being mean and then begging on his knees a second later, i do say reader is "5 foot whatever" but if that doesnt apply just ignore it lmao, I do describe him as almost crying every now and then so if that turns u off this might be a skip

This is short (1.5k) but I love submissive men so do NOT be afraid to lmk if you want more :)

Personally, I was raised by a woman way too strong headed to ever be the stereotype of submission, and I'm sure a lot of you share the same sentiment in some way or another. I was always told to never let a man tell me what to do, and I can picture a reader being the exact same way. 

Not mean, not bullheaded or rude, but strong. Tough. Logan had expected to blow through you like he had the rest of his team (or at least how he thought he did, though he was a lot tougher in his head than in action). But when he stood up to you, all 5 foot whatever of you, it felt like you were standing eye to eye.  

You did exactly as you were taught, chin up and shoulders back as you spoke with confidence, and it easily had you slipping into positions of power in the mansion with ease. He admired you from afar for a while, watched as you seamlessly commanded a room, effortlessly organizing missions and handling insubordinate children like it was nothing.  

Logan couldn't describe where the attraction came from. Originally, he thought it was his manly man urges to take a dominant woman and make her pine for him, but you and I both know that's not why you got him going. 

If you were to ask him right now in his current scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell you which was his favorite part. Not sure if it's you under him in between his knees, looking up and fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him like has something to behold; or if it's your firm grip around his cock, effortlessly bringing him so close to the edge before you manhandle him back down to earth. 

It had only been once so far, but you had gotten him bad. Your hands all sloppy and wet working up and down his length with vigor, your filthy loudmouth a never-ending record of come on baby, let me see it, let go for me. 

All that build up, just for you to -right as he whimpers out a breathless "going to fucking cum"- halt all action and grip your flingers tightly around his base. 

It ripped a deep growl from his chest, the feeling almost painful as his finish line is so rudely ripped from him.  

He should've known, he knows you too well too have assumed he could get you all pretty on your knees without some anterior motive.  

"You want something?" You ask him innocently, that stupid pretty smile still spread across your face. He grinds his teeth as the pressure in his stomach slowly simmers down, not enough air in his lungs to formulate a response.  

You slowly start stroking him again, an agonizing pace that has his cock flushed a deep red and practically throbbing in your hand. The sound is pornographic and it's all too much for him. 

He's whining now, head thrown back and noises getting increasingly high pitched as you keep his release just barely out of his reach. If he could focus enough to use his ears, he’d hear you laughing at him. 

He so rudely tries to interrupt you, tries to bring his own hands down to just get himself there, but you wouldn't allow it. You'd make him sit on his hands if you had to, and when you grabbed each wrist and planted them next to his thighs and told him to "stay," he knew better than to disobey. 

"Gotta ask for the things you want, Wolvie." You remind him. It's just basic manners, really, frankly he should be thanking you for still touching him after being so rude.  

"Don't gotta ask for shit," He spits out through clenched teeth. 

See, that was Logans problem. He had too much fucking pride, needed someone to teach him a lesson. Guess today he needs it to be you. 

"Mm you're right, Logan," you've got a smile on your face as you speak that Logan can't read. Either way, he's scared. 

None of it matters though as your hand picks up speed and pressure, resuming your prior ministrations as your fingers suddenly massage every spot with precision. His breath is gone as his head hangs limp on his shoulders, his fingers gripping the comforter like it would save him from your attack.  

"You don't gotta do shit," You're talking but he's not listening. It's all too good, he's being hurdled towards his orgasm faster than ever, he couldn't hear your jests even if he wanted to over the pressure in his ears. He’s gonna cum, he's so fucking close, and your hands feel so fucking good so perfect and it's all so much and- 

"But neither do I," and just like that you're off him. Not like before, this time you stand up and physically take a step back from him, watching his form head to toe as he's forced to cope with his second lost orgasm. 

The groan he lets out is primal, you expect to see him start ripping the pillows and sheets with how his writhing on your bed. He’s on his back twitching, practically crying from the ache pulsing through the center of his body. It hurts, he's so desperate it physically hurts, his hips rutting into the air in search of anything. 

He has no sense anymore, no control over any of his limbs as he falls to the floor and crawls to you, the only thing he can make out in his fogged-up mind is need.  

"Please baby," He begs mindlessly, "You're so fucking mean to me," He's kissing your thighs and pulling at your hands, buttering you up and wallowing in any contact you'll give him.  

Neither of you know how it happened, know at what point in the night he broke and became a whimpering messy puppy, but God did it feel good to watch, to see him yearn for you so desperately. 

His eyes are teary eyed and hazy as he speaks, "I'll do anything princess I'm sorry," He kisses you palm and knuckles and up your wrists, "Please baby I'm sorry I'm sorry just fucking-" His hips involuntarily grind down, his thighs twitching and his hard cock bobbing between his legs. "Please touch me baby I can't fucking take it,"  

He’s a mess, his cock is leaking all over his thighs and the floor, and his lips won't leave your body, lathing kisses anywhere he can, worshipping your body as you stand still and look down at him.  

"Why can't you just behave the first time?" You ask, wrapping your fingers in his hair and gently tugging his hair back, making him look at you as he speaks.  

"Was just playin baby," He kisses the wrist of the hand in his hair, "shouldn't have teased you baby I'm sorry, please baby please," his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzles into you. It's pathetic, and if anyone else ever saw him like this he's sure he could just explode on the spot.  

"Get back on the bed." You order, taking pleasure in the way he scrambles back to his spot, his legs spread for you and his hands pressed back into their spot next to his hips. He’s disheveled, his hair falling over his face and sticking to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat covering him head to toe. Youd keep him like this forever if you could. 

You decide to take mercy on him though, the sight of him on his knees begging like a dog more than enough to satisfy your cravings. Now, all you wanted was to do was so how pretty he looked once he actually finished for you. 

You find your spot between his legs again, looking up at him all pretty just like before. God you were going to ruin him. 

"Go on. Tell me what you want," you give him one last instruction before giving in. His breath is shaky, his words coming out in a whole different tone than before. He sounds small, on the brink of tears as he whimpers out one last desperate, "please," before you spit in your hand and wrap it back around his cock.  

Instantly he's gone. He doesn't even have the energy to moan or cry, he's just paralyzed. His eyes roll back and his hand clamps over his mouth, no air left in his lungs as the most mind-numbing wave of pleasure works up from his core. He wasn't even cumming yet and it already was making him shake. 

He should've just trusted you, should've known that you'd make him feel so fucking good if he just listened. Never again, he'll never say no to you ever again. 

By the time his orgasm actually hit him, he's laid out flat on his back on the mattress, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes squeezed shut. Both his hands are wrapped in the sheets, stuck in place by his claws that slowly inch out with every rope of cum that comes from him. There's no sound until it's all out of him, your hands not stopping till he's whining and pushing you away from him. 

You watch as he recovers, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he desperately tries to get air back into his lungs, aftershocks still tumbling through him. His eyes flutter back open, not enough energy to focus on anything else though as his claws start sheathing back into his knuckles.  

He sits up as you return from the bathroom with a washcloth, gently cleaning off his stomach and anything that was coated in a thin layer of his finish. He’s sensitive, hissing and gasping as you gently clean his slowly softening length and thighs.  

Once all evidence is taken care of, you look up at him with soft eyes. He looks so amazing like this, his eyes can't focus on anything while his lips slowly pull into a big dopey grin. You let him take you in for a moment, just staying like this with him till he has the strength to speak.  

"Jesus Christ," Is all he says before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before falling back onto the bed.  

"Are you going to make it?" You tease, cuddling up under his arm where he lay and resting your head on his bicep.  

"I don't think so," He giggles, enough oxygen in his system now, enough strength in him to wrap himself around you and kiss your head. "You were a lot closer to killing me then you think,"  

You giggle and smack his chest, "keep being mean like that and next time I actually will," 

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere rivals between Vaggie and Angel dust who both grown attached to overlord reader ? Platonic please and hcs if possible 

I was a bit unsure how to do this at first... but I think there's some interesting dynamics between characters to explore here.

Part of me wants to write something separate for the dynamic you, Angel, and Val have in this. That seems good enough on its own to explore. ALSO! So sorry it got complicated... I had too many thoughts I lost the plot half the time.

@okchijt helped me enrich the rivalry portion near the end.

Yandere! Platonic! Vaggie vs Platonic! Angel Dust with Overlord! Darling

(FT. Alastor + Valentino + Charlie)

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Trauma, Violence, Abuse (Angel and Val), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Implied Manipulation, Dubious companionship(s).

At first it's a bit difficult to see where you can place another Overlord.

Vaggie would naturally struggle to trust another Overlord based on the ones she's seen/interacted with.

Same thing with Angel due to the fact his soul is owned by an Overlord.

So, both of these characters obsessing over an Overlord is... strange.

The only thing I can think of is you're an Overlord supporting the hotel.

One thing the two share in common is their care for Charlie, no matter how ridiculous her ideas are.

So maybe you're an Overlord who's investing in or just interested in the hotel and its inhabitants.

You'd often come to the hotel to speak with Charlie, not usually going out of your way to have soul deals with anyone there (as per an agreement with Charlie).

This could be a way to get you on good terms with the two.

HOWEVER, This ALSO creates unique relationships between you and Alastor/Valentino.

I imagine Overlords tend to have a territory.

They don't typically want free Overlords in their space or touching their property.

Which means, a new Overlord would catch the attention of Alastor and Val.

First of all, Alastor will notice you often around the hotel and Charlie.

While his role is being a defender of the hotel and yours is simply supplying it, Alastor may feel a bit threatened... or even interested when it comes to your presence.

There's a good chance you can actually get along with Alastor if you aren't a threat... maybe.

When it comes to Val, however?

None whatsoever.

Val would hate you interacting with Angel.

Especially when Angel gets attached.

So, I feel a rivalry like this might come off as complex.

Even more so with the fact you're an Overlord.

Vaggie becomes close to you because you both care for Charlie.

You're seen as an ally and she respects your abilities.

Plus, you're more respectable than most other Overlords here.

She's always found Alastor... shifty.

Vaggie comes off as an overprotective yandere, even if you're a strong Overlord.

Actually, that fact alone makes Vaggie want to protect you due to Alastor.

Alastor no doubt wants to make a deal with you due to your power.

Power is his end game and he isn't sure if Charlie would even need you to be an Overlord.

He can handle it, so why not make a deal with him to give over your power?

Vaggie is often the one trying to keep one (or two) Overlords off your back.

It's originally because she doesn't want Charlie to stress or worry.

But later it's because she genuinely cares about you, Overlord or not.

Angel is a bit more dependent when attached.

At first he pays you no mind.

Oh great, another Overlord to force their way into things.

As if Alastor and Val aren't enough.

He tries not to pay you any mind, often ignoring you.

However, maybe you comfort him after an argument with Val.

You notice him covered in marks and become oddly attentive.

He originally tries to push away, telling you off while he tries to isolate himself.

He finds the idea of an Overlord being caring odd.

Even Alastor does it to get his way.

Yet... You appear to be genuinely concerned...

He hates that he enjoys it.

What may solidify his attachment is you standing up to Val or something.

That or just defending Angel in general.

With you he feels less... guarded.

He knows being around you pisses Val off.

At times Angel gets concerned for your well-being because Val can be dangerous as a Vee.

Yet you try to reassure him you're alright with it.

Even though Angel tries to distance himself for your sake... He can never stay away for long.

Oof... Things just get messy when Angel's attached.

Mostly because Val is erratic and temperamental.

ALL OF THAT and I have yet to discuss Vaggie and Angel actually fighting.

See what I mean by this is more complicated than I thought it would be?

Vaggie and Angel can agree on one thing... you're helpful, sweet, and important to them.

The two also tend to keep you away from two other Overlords.

You're meddling where you shouldn't, even if you don't mean to, but these two act as good allies to you.

I don't imagine their rivalry gets too violent.

They wouldn't try to end one another, mostly it's just arguments on who cares for you better.

But it's not like you're all that vulnerable.

No, you're an Overlord, most of the time you're caring for them.

You help Vaggie be more confident in helping Charlie and even give helpful suggestions and supplies to Charlie herself.

With Angel you often try tending to his wounds, talking to him, and trying to help him cope in a less destructive way than vices (Alcohol, Drugs, Smoking.)

He doesn't listen all the time but he does somewhat appreciate the sentiment.

The two fighting is mostly due to you being occupied with the other or the Overlords upset with you.

Vaggie tends to blame Angel for Val's actions towards you.

It's often a heat of the moment kind of thing, she doesn't entirely mean it but it slips.

Meanwhile Angel thinks Vaggie only cares about you due to Charlie.

Angel may even say Vaggie couldn't defend you from Alastor or that you're being used in some way.

It's all mostly petty but it ruins the bond between them.

Much to Charlie's dismay.

Alastor may comment on their behavior with you.

He muses that they act like lost children in your presence.

He finds it all very amusing.

He also finds it strange you managed to get them to both like you... even more so to this point.

He may even ask if you have ulterior motives, which you don't share.

Motives or not, the two probably would still care for you if they bicker this much over your "care".

Val just seems to get aggressive with you.

He claims you're stealing Angel from him, to which you decline.

You're merely helping Angel, which makes Val more frustrated.

The Vees are never good with their temper.

It's so easy for you two to fight.

You may even come back to the hotel with wounds, leaving Vaggie concerned and Angel guilty.

You help the two in many ways.

Be it from actual care or benefiting yourself... it yields the same result.

Charlie congratulates you for befriending them and helping the hotel...

Yet she is concerned about them at times.

Charlie often has to prevent the two from fighting.

She'd also be concerned about you and Val's fighting.

Both yandere are mostly overprotective.

Angel may also be clingy when he's vulnerable but he tries not to be.

This rivalry, as petty or light as it is, comes with many moving parts.

You're less concerned with Vaggie and Angel... and more concerned about the other bonds they have and how you complicate them.

I don't know, I no doubt overcomplicated the request, but it's genuine thoughts and concerns I have when thinking of these two.

Overall, I feel their rivalry is more petty than anything.

They themselves wouldn't hurt you as you're an Overlord... but the two end up hating each other.

It's a bit difficult for me to see them fighting though... as due to how complicated these dynamics are, the two would probably just learn to share.

You help them both, they help you, they may not need to fight.

Even if they shared though... I can see arguments occurring due to Alastor and Val.

The two wouldn't be able to kidnap you or manipulate you too much.

Murdering people for you? Sure, I can see that.

They're both protective and capable... but would they need to?

Lesser demons don't come near you and they can't kill Overlords.

Oof... you having the Overlord title in general makes this complicated too....

Vaggie is protective and isolating, wanting you to focus on the hotel more than Angel to make Charlie happy.

She makes herself your personal assistant, ushering you to focus on her, Charlie, and the hotel. Not Angel or Alastor.

To her, this is how you two bond.

She doesn't mind sharing with Charlie... but she tries not to allow you any more time with the others.

Angel is not only protective and clingy, but possessive.

He loves it when you just come to see him because you're concerned.

It gives him an ego.

He likes the attention so much that he'll lie to make you stay longer.

He's never felt more comfortable... and he uses this time to mess with Vaggie.

He's a distraction and he enjoys it.

Vaggie thinks Angel is hogging all of your attention... You have other things to attend to.

Meanwhile Angel accuses Vaggie of boring you and not giving you a choice on what to do.

You have your work cut out for you at the hotel, especially with these two so close to you...

All I have to say is this... Good Luck.

[blackenedsnow]

Hey there! I love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something where Michael Myers is super possessive and protective of the reader. The reader is normally really independent and tough, but they get into a situation where they actually need help—maybe they’re being stalked or harassed by someone, and Michael steps in?

silent guardian

WARNING: Possessiveness, stalking/harassment, violence, gore, toxic protectiveness, mention of murder.

PAIRING: Michael Myers x Reader

NOTE: Take you for your request! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You're used to handling things on your own. You've always been independent and strong, never needing anyone’s help—until someone starts stalking you. At first, you think you can deal with it, but the situation escalates beyond your control. Michael Myers, lurking in the shadows, has always kept a watchful eye on you, and now, when you truly need help, he's more than ready to step in.

You had always prided yourself on your independence, on being the kind of person who could handle whatever came their way. You never needed anyone to protect you, and you certainly didn’t need anyone watching over you like some fragile thing. Life had thrown its fair share of challenges your way, but you'd learned to fight through them on your own terms.

That was before the stalking started.

At first, it was just unnerving—someone watching you too closely, lingering in places you couldn’t see, leaving a trail of anxiety wherever you went. But lately, things had escalated. You’d started noticing small signs, messages left behind, your name scrawled on your car window in the condensation, items in your home moved just slightly out of place.

You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself you could handle it. After all, you weren’t one to be scared so easily. But the weight of someone constantly lurking in the background was starting to wear on you, making you jump at shadows and lock every door twice.

It was only when the situation came to a head that you realized just how far out of control things had gotten.

You were on your way home late one night, cutting through a dark alley you had taken a hundred times before, when you heard the footsteps behind you. They weren’t subtle. Whoever was following you wanted you to know they were there.

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as you quickened your pace, trying to lose whoever it was. But no matter how fast you walked, the footsteps stayed right behind you, the presence growing closer with each second.

Fear gnawed at you, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You turned a corner, hoping to lose them in the winding streets, but they were relentless. Panic set in as you reached a dead-end, and for the first time in a long while, you felt trapped.

Before you could react, the figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, stepping out of the darkness.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. Just as the shadow moved toward you, something else stirred in the darkness—something much larger, much more dangerous.

Michael. Though, you didn't know it yet.

He stepped out from the shadows like a force of nature, his massive form blocking the alleyway. The stalking figure stopped dead in their tracks, fear flickering in their eyes as they realized who and what they were up against.

Michael didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The air around him was thick with menace, his silent fury directed entirely at the person who had dared to follow you.

Without warning, Michael lunged, grabbing the stalker by the throat with one hand and slamming them against the wall. The sound of the impact echoed through the narrow alley, but Michael didn’t stop there. His grip tightened, cutting off any chance of escape for the unfortunate soul who had crossed his path.

You watched, frozen in place, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael’s eyes, under the mask, cold and empty, locked onto the stalker with a single-minded intensity, as if this person’s fate had already been decided.

In a matter of seconds, the threat was neutralized, the stalker left gasping for air on the ground, barely conscious. Michael didn’t spare them a second glance.

He turned to you then. The intensity was still there, but now it was different—possessive, protective. He stepped closer, and despite everything, despite knowing the monster he was, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You weren’t alone.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there in the darkness, the weight of the situation settling in. You had always been the strong one, the independent one, but here, in the shadow of someone who lived for violence, you realized that even you needed help sometimes. And Michael—whether out of obsession, possessiveness, or something darker—had always been watching, always ready to step in when you needed him most.

He didn’t speak, didn’t ask if you were okay. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he reached out, his hand roughly grabbing your arm.

A strange comfort settled over you. In his twisted way, Michael had become your protector.

And in that moment, you didn’t mind being his.

[ariannag6-blog]

Toshinori Yagi in bed 18+

600 words.

All Toshinori work by me is under hashtag AriaToshinori

What would Toshinori be like in bed? Here’s what I think.

I feel like Toshinori would have a praise kink. Not necessarily receiving but giving. He would want to do anything he can to get the sweet reward of hearing his partner moan and watch their eyes roll back. He knows he’s a big guy and has a girthy member. He would prefer to love his partner slowly not to cause them unnecessary pain. Enjoying every sweet moment and feeling of their body.

If Toshinori’s partner could handle his member and wanted him to be rougher he would speed up the pace but only if they begged him for it over and over. He would do it to satisfy them but otherwise I think he would still prefer to take his time. He has a lot of stamina, I feel like he could last hours in the bedroom. Toshinori again loves taking his time and being slow he would love each session to be about an hour or so long. He would find delight in overstimulating his partner with pleasure and edging them occasionally but he would stop if it got too much. He would want to make them cum over and over again in any way he could. It’s enough to satisfy him he doesn’t feel like he needs to cum to have a good time. He only needs you to finish. But if he does get there and is able to cum he’s not against that either.

Toshi would probably grunt a lot while cumming mainly because he’s trying his hardest not to pound into you too deeply or roughly and because he spent so much time toying with you by the time he gets to cum his tip feels immensely overstimulated but he’s addicted to the sensation of it.

Toshinori dirty talk. Toshi would adore saying things like.

“It’s okay you can take it, you’re doing so well for me.”

“I know it’s a lot. It’ll feel good soon I promise. Let Toshi play with your pretty pussy I promise it’ll make it feel better.”

“You look so beautiful when you cum darling.”

“You taste like heaven. Please put your pretty hands in my hair. Guide me. Tell me what spots feel good. I won’t stop until you can’t finish anymore.”

“I love you so much baby, am I making you feel good? Not too much is it?”

“My fingers slid in so easily did my kisses really turn you on that much? Let me give you more then.”

He loves praising your body while he says these things as well. Leaving lots of kisses on your forehead and everywhere else. Loves running his fingers through your hair with one hand while you cum, holding your hips in place with the other. He never takes his eyes off you for a second while he’s toying with your body. He’s obsessed with his partner and thinks they are the most beautiful thing to ever exist.

He’s such a strong man but he loves being as gentle as he can with your body. He would definitely be afraid of spanking you, spitting on you, tying you up, any sort of rough kinky stuff like that. On the other hand he wouldn’t mind you tying him up if you got off to that. He prefers to be a soft dom/top but if he ended up being with a dominant woman who wanted to have her way with him he would submit. Even if she wanted to slap him and be rough. He knows you wouldn’t be able to do damage to his body because he’s so strong and fit. Your slaps would feel like slight pinches on his body. Not the feelings of the slaps but the look on your face while you did that and other things would get him off knowing that it was pleasing you to do so.

[goodolddumbbanana]

I think we are so hung up on the toxicity of Nexus and Dark Sun, we are totally missing the sick twist toxic potential Stockholm symptoms between Dark Sun and Sun duo.

Either if we ship them or not.

Because if Sun follows Dark Sun path, or just goes with Dark Sun instead of Nexus, things can be for real so much worse.

Why am I saying that?

Because One of Sun's strongest characteristics is his loyalty, and his caring deeply for his family. He is willing to die with them and You can even just hit and bully Sun everyday and he will still forgive you.

And also, he doesn't care much about himself, and he sets his expectations very low, like... If you don't cross that limit, (his family), then you can do whatever with him.

So...

Let says something happens and Sun joined Dark Sun.

(Maybe the time when he killed Moon, maybe the time when Nexus just freshly got yeet out of space. Maybe... Just maybe... He hurt someone in his family)

My point is that, what if Dark Sun comes to Sun in his lowest point of his life.

He couldn't take it, couldn't handle it anymore... He might harm Nexus badly which makes him think Nexus was dead.

I think Sun would follow and obey Dark Sun unconditionally without asking any questions. Because he was so ashamed of himself that he never dared to crawl back at his home, to say sorry for the people he hurt, especially if the consequences are forever.

He will hold on to the only person who still stays there with him, and will do anything, desperately to get Dark Sun's approval and love, just like how he tried to behave to Moon with Killcode doesn't hate him anymore.

Dark Sun does not even need to use machines to brainwash Sun. He just needs some light manipulation day and there, to remind Sun that Moons are evil and no one can help him except himself, except Dark Sun.

I bet Dark Sun will kinda want a naive version of himself to stay with him, I mean, to teach Sun to be strong and all.

To save himself.

Or he just simply wants a Sun for himself, a naive and a little idiot person to push his ego...

Anyway...

And the more time they stay together, the more times Dark Sun lets or forces Sun to destroy a variant of Moons, there will be a piece of Sun gone, until nothing in there anymore.

Sun will be just like Servant Sun, completely follow Dark Sun, or just simple like his pet but this time, it is his choice and his own doom doing. And not by any re-programmed or star power.

;.; I just love when people get screwed by his own decision

[beomiracles]

I know you're busy rn but once you’re back

I neeeed thoughts on superhero/superpower txt. Or any recommendations you've read.

luv u 💋 i'd hug you but you couldn't handle the heat 😜 🔥

ouuu superhero txt hehe.. thing is I don't think I've read any fics what that theme unfortunately :(

if anyone's got recommendations please drop them !!

but THOUGHTS I've got many.

kai def one of those ridiculously strong ones, like he could lift an entire building if he wants to, also kai villain arc is definitely an opportunity, like a hero turned bad. beomgyu on the other hand strikes me more as a morally grey one, like you can't really tell if he's doing something out of malice or goodwill yfm? he def has mind manipulating powers.

I know u asked for superheroes but yeonjun is so villain coded, he's got the face for it. and he's got like the power to manipulate electricity and such, I just feel like he'd make things spark. taehyun would have much more subtle powers, like he doesn't flaunt them. more like a shadow of the night type shit. but he's definitely got inhumane speed, always there to save the day though no one actually knows who he is or what he looks like.

and as for soobin, this man could fly, no I mean it. I feel like he might have an almost superstitious touch to him, maybe he can communicate with ghosts, or even see the future, allowing him to stop accidents before they even take place !

I have no time to develop any of these into actual fics but good lord

[allwormdiet]

Buzz 7.7

Nazi capes fuck off, again

Okay, cool, the Protectorate needs to have one or more Triumvirate members mobilizing for Brockton Bay fucking immediately.

I'm certain that Alexandria or one of the others will be here any second now to deal with this televised brutality that's currently going uncontested in a Protectorate city

(The BB Protectorate doesn't get shown doing a whole lot during this particular incident, and frankly I don't think that means they're doing nothing. We see one front of the Empire's offensive and we know there are others who can cause just as much damage if left alone, plus the only Protectorate members who are maybe equipped to deal with Purity are Armsmaster and Dauntless, but given her flight and sheer destructive capability I'm not sure. I'm not so dismissive as to say they're letting this all slide, whatever they're doing is likely off-screen so to speak.

But the higher-ups should have sent in someone who could actually knock Purity's head concave, and frankly I trust them even less for not doing it with this or with Bakuda's threats.)

We get more of this later, but I think this is the first real sign of where Brian and Taylor's sensibilities diverge. Taylor's given up on being a superhero, but she still wants to be a good person, and that means that when fucking Nazis are running around burning down the city she wants to stop them, not least because they're being blamed for this rampage. Brian's priorities are different: his number one priority is his people, family or team or otherwise, and everyone else is a very distant second. As long as the Empire doesn't manage to come down on anyone he cares about, he's willing to let the city take whatever they dish out in the meantime.

This difference of opinion is going to come to a head in pretty short order, but we already see the friction before that.

Who the fuck decides whether the Triumvirate gets put on a job or not? If Alexandria or one of the others is hearing about this, can anyone actually stop them from holding back if they want to come out and put an end to this? If somebody can hold them back, that someone is at best wildly incompetent. If nobody can hold them back, I automatically hold those three in deep fucking contempt. Take a day trip and beat the shit out of some fucking Nazis, how is that such a burden?

Also, "genetically pure or not." What a fucking winner we have here, no wonder there are Purity stans who want to redeem her with the power of love or whatever.

So, this is an execution on live television. Of a cameraman, who was just the unlucky son of a bitch to get chosen for this demonstration. Are there genuinely people out there who believe the idea that the Empire is "civilized" compared to the other gangs? Some kind of lesser evil? Who reads this and goes "well actually I think that Kaiser and his followers are misunderstood and quite noble" go fuck yourself

Taylor gets fucking mean when she's not keeping a lid on it, huh?

Yeah of course the only thing she gives a shit about is her stupid baby. God I hope they figure out how to take custody from her or something, nobody deserves to be raised by a maniac like that.

Thank you Coil, that's very helpful of you Coil, this does nothing to tarnish your carefully constructed image of being in total control of the situation Coil.

Yeah, so. Proof that Purity is too strong for the local Protectorate to handle.

Also glad to see that Brian can be convinced of the right course of action once someone leans on him enough. There's only so much collateral damage he can stomach, it turns out. Hopefully that means he gets his head out of his ass about Dinah.

I don't think Taylor knows Brian well enough to have a real insight into his moral stances. A month into most of my friendships over my life I couldn't tell you how they'd respond to the trolley problem or whatever, except for the one girl who considered the trolley problem to be a stupid joke of a philosophical exercise and didn't really shy away from that.

I think she just kind of assumed that the two of them being alike in other ways, and seeing him in a particularly positive and flattering light, meant that he'd be on her side with whatever moral quandaries might come up as parahumans.

I'd say it's best she get over the shock now but she's not done being shocked by her peers this arc.

Sighs

These fuckers

Taylor having strong opinions on particular power sets is pretty funny.

Current Thoughts

Taylor you really gotta stop putting the people you like up on pedestals, it's just gonna lead to hurt and disappointment

Fucking hate Purity and the rest of her merry little band of Nazi fuckwits. I hope the Endbringer kills them to a one.

This upcoming fight is interesting tbh. I don't think it's the coolest or anything, but it's a display of how someone with a hard counter to your superpower doesn't mean an automatic loss, it just means a really fucking hard-fought win.

[merakiui]

ALIEN SCARAMOUCHE WITH OVIPOSITION MERA ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 I need more, what would he look like, what are his motivations... Omg... Maybe some kidnapping going on...some experiments on humans...him studying how humans reproduce and if his race can use them... Aaaa my mind is going crazy with ideas, please do share yours too! <3

What if he doesn’t have a form of his own (something that sort of ties into canon Scaramouche’s obsession with wanting a heart and a purpose)? And maybe he’s more like a shadowy mass that can take the form of anything so long as he’s encountered said thing (i.e. made contact with it? Or maybe he has to kill the original in order to take its form? Or it’s something like a reflection where if you happen to look at him long enough he’ll have a good enough idea of how to replicate your form from staring and analyzing it.) and since he’s so dedicated to having a form that really fits, that truly feels like him, he’s continued to adapt and evolve as the years pass throughout every planet in the solar system.

Perhaps he does have a few features of his own, but maybe they’re sort of scattered?? Or they aren’t really features his species is known to have? He’s like a mixture of various things he’s observed over the time he’s spent on your planet in an effort to shape himself into something beyond the formless shadow he’s lived as for so long. Like a patchwork copycat composed of so many different parts because he’s desperately trying to understand all of these things. It’s like his version of trying on clothes and new fashion styles. So maybe he has horns or maybe cat ears because he’s seen so many stray cats and they’ve always fascinated him for some unexplainable reason (maybe in order to have these features he’s had to ingest part of the living thing he wants to replicate??? Just something a little extra horrifying for our beloved alien mouchey. <3) And maybe the only thing he has from the one who created him (Ei) is the same piercing stare in a pair of brilliantly colored eyes she graciously bestowed upon him.

Maybe Scaramouche can’t understand human emotion in the usual sense that other humans might, so he assigns flavors to these unusual feelings. When he hurts the things he likes or is interested in (cats, the human he stole his current appearance from (i.e. Kabukimono; let’s pretend they’re two separate individuals hehe), and even other gentle things or creatures who are completely innocent), the taste in his mouth is sour or bitter or so very intolerable. I think over time he hardens himself and learns to live with the foul flavors he often encounters when he attempts to blend in with humans and utterly fails because he can never replicate their emotions as well as he can copy behaviors or appearances. He starts his journey so curious and sweetly innocent, albeit murderous and eerie, and he tries so hard to learn and be good and explore the world with the eyes his mother gifted him and yet he always finds himself hurting. He hates it. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible, and he has never truly felt before. This is new.

When Scaramouche is captured by Dottore, a human scientist who is a little too dedicated to the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, he finally tastes the cruelty of humankind—learns of the lengths they’ll go to in the name of scientific breakthroughs. The researchers run dozens of tests on him. He can’t feel external or internal pain from wounds or injuries; he’s sturdy, birthed from a substance foreign to humans, intended to survive the harshest conditions. But Scaramouche feels pain—the emotional kind. He’s never felt fear; he’s what humans would call an apex predator. He’s strong. He’s never needed to feel fear, and so he doesn’t fear the unknown. He isn’t scared of the sharp tools, of the peculiar creatures he’s shown in hopes that he might replicate them and their features, nor does he fear the trajectory of this new life. The concept of ethical practices means nothing to him even though he’s aware he’s a lab rat, a grotesque curiosity that doctors poke and prod at. He reacts to everything in unique, defensive ways. He impaled a doctor through the throat with a strange shadowy spike. It moved as though it were liquid, yet it struck very solidly, sharply, deadly efficient. Dottore likens its movements and behaviors to that of an octopus’s tentacle; Scaramouche is unsure of this comparison. This is merely a shadow of something he has observed—a reflection. A cheap copy. He has never been original.

You’re the first human he meets who isn’t adorned in sterile white. No lab coat, no gloves, no goggles, no protective gear. Just clothes. Normal clothes. The both of you are separated by indestructible glass, placed in two very white rooms, and you can see one another so clearly. Scaramouche hates the purity of white because he knows that when he’s forced into a white backdrop he’s meant to stain it red. And lately he doesn’t want to break things that are undeserving of it. Perhaps he’s feeling too much. Perhaps he ought to tear these human feelings out and go back to the blank, shadowy slate he once was. How he intends to accomplish that, he has no idea.

He’s uninterested in you at first. You’re a human. He’s seen humans. He interacts with them daily. He’s killed plenty. But you spend nights in that white room and he watches you sleep. He tries to sleep in the same way you do; he has no need for sleep. He regulates his energy differently. He tries to breathe like you. He blinks at the same times you blink—or he comes awfully close. He tries to copy your movements and mannerisms. One night he presses himself to the glass and takes your form and watches you, counting every rise and fall of your chest as you lie so comfortably on the very uncomfortable cot. With hands that mirror yours, he pokes at these human features. He fits one hand in the other and pretends he’s holding your actual hand. There is no warmth, though. Humans are warm; Scaramouche is not. He’s frigid. His home planet is gloomy and cold and desolate. He thinks humans are lucky for cyclical days—for being in close proximity to the sun. There is no sunshine where he hails from. He likes the way the sun feels on him. It used to burn terribly when he first arrived on this planet. Now it’s like a hug—a hug that still singes, but a hug nonetheless. He’s never known what a hug is, but he thinks this is what it must feel like—like the burning warmth of a sun.

Scaramouche feels true, raw, animalistic, paralyzing fear when you’re taken out of the room after two weeks and replaced with a new human. You’re gone. Replaced. Are you dead? Did he kill you? Did he stare too long? He’s distraught, overcome with a horrifying emotion that has him curled and trembling in the corner of his white room (a cage if he’s ever known one). Why aren’t you here? And why is he so…restless? He can’t call it fear because he doesn’t know that word. But oh he’s scared. He’s so scared. You were the first human to smile at him, to put your hand on the glass where his rested, to sit close to the glass and eat meals alongside him. You were like the stray cats he’s interacted with: kind, soft, gentle, sweet. He’s so scared he loses the ability to remain in his human skin, and he practically melts into a shadow, clinging to the corner like glue or slime. He’s empty and alone. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible.

The humans that follow are terrified of him. Either that or they’re disgusted, baffled, cautious. He hates every one of them, so much so that he’s tried to break through the glass numerous times to dispose of them. Weeks pass; he’s forgetting your features. There are no mirrors here, so he must rely on the reflections shown in the glass. Some days he thinks he looks just like you; other days he’s certain he’s a monstrosity—a sloppily stitched version of you. The you he saw did not have pointed fangs or curling horns. He hates his reflection because it isn’t you. Most importantly, he hates that the humans he’s forced to look at are protected by this thick layer of glass. If it wasn’t so indestructible, he’d tear through every human nuisance until he reaches you.

Scaramouche is not sure how many months pass, but you return. And when you do the fear ebbs away. He feels…happy? Is that the right term? He’s pleased to see you, and for the first time in a while he returns to his human appearance—to the one he took from a young man many centuries ago. You’re back. You’re here. He’s so happy. He detaches himself from his corner and he tries to smile in the way you do. And, though it’s awkward and strange and sharp-toothed, you smile right back.

Dottore decides then that you are to be the next subject in this experiment. He’s observed Scaramouche’s reactions to you and compared them to reactions to the other humans and found that you are the best suited to this role. If anything, the alien couldn’t have picked a better specimen to adore. You’re helpless and so naïve. You need the money; it’s why you allowed yourself to live in that room for a few weeks. You were paid handsomely for it. He’ll pay you beyond handsomely if you agree to what’s next. And, really, when you’re in between a predator’s jaws do you really have much of a choice?

Scaramouche needs a human match, and the scientists need to study more than just the social biology of an alien. They promise you he won’t hurt you, and if he does it’s all right. They’re kind enough to respect the wishes of the dead. You must let Dottore know if you’d prefer a burial or a cremation. There’s nothing special in this distinction; it’s just a precautionary measure. You’ll agree to participate in this experiment whether or not you want to.

Your new home is the white room that faces Scaramouche, and after some more time and observations to ensure you won’t be killed the moment you step foot in his space the glass barrier will be lifted. Dottore wonders how Scaramouche’s kind mates and reproduces.

There’s only one way to find out.

[lucalicatteart]

-- Poorly Constructed Enchanted Tool --

A small tool carved from a fruit tree seed. Energy to power the enchantment has seemingly run-out long ago, and the method of recharging is unknown - but, based on the appearance, it's very likely that this was once used for detecting magic. Usually, looking through the glass center would highlight areas of higher magical energy concentration present in the viewer's environment, even if they were otherwise obscured to the naked eye. While this form of enchantment itself is highly advanced, the craftsmanship of the item is far less neat or complex than what might be typically seen in similar devices. It may have been made as part of training/practice, or as a hasty replacement for a previous tool that had broken.

[danielnelsen]

i’m not cut out to be a fan of something while new info is being released. any time i see a remotely negative or bad opinion i want to eat my own eyes

[hella1975]

choked up in my room rn bc i was sat in the car with my mum completely lost in thought and she out of nowhere went 'are you okay?' and i was like 'yeah? why?' bc i was totally fine i was literally just thinking and she let it go and then five entire minutes later she goes 'are you sure? have i done something?' and she sounded so genuinely anxious and i could tell she'd been thinking about it the entire 5 minutes while id been completely oblivious and i spent so many years as a child letting everything bottle up until it all burst out in a messy and ugly breakdown that took her down with me and despite that she never hated me she only ever blamed herself for not seeing the signs and she's never been able to see my signs because i keep everything to myself and it terrifies her that she might miss something and she handles things poorly when she's scared and she gets too angry but fundamentally she's trying her absolute hardest to be a good mother and it wasn't always enough and i know i have to hold her at least partially accountable but also she's my mum and im her daughter and she always just wants to know if im okay and most of the time im not and somehow that feels like ive betrayed her

[dimonds456]

hey tumblr, thanks for recommending me a TERF post "based on my likes." I hope the hour I spent blocking as many people as I could bear in the notes is enough of a hint for you.

[neriyon]

Hello! 12 and 21 for the Dawntrail questions for your purple catboy? :>

( 22 Dawntrail Inspired WoL/OC Questions )

Ohh hello!

12. What was their opinion of the culture of recycling souls and the use of regulators? Did this change as the story progressed?

Hawu'li is a white mage, so I feel like he'd be extra horrified over the whole concept. "You do WHAT to souls instead of returning them to the atherial sea???" or "Do you have any idea what that does to the balance if more souls stay out than go in??". Not to mention his knowledge of ancients and ascians and all that. Would their "removal of memories from soul" really work as well as they said it would? Atherial sea was said to do that too, but they already had met people who had memories seared too deep to be removed (Hermes), as well as reborn souls with shards of past still hanging around (his own unsudered self, Eleos, still hangs somewhere in his soul even if he's only made himself known like once). Not to mention the philosophical questions like "Are you still you if your soul dies and you have your memories planted in a new, unreleated soul?"

21. If they had to summarize their journey in Tural, what would they say?

Actually anwered this already here! But since Hawu'li had a brand new co-WoL with him this time (N'jinh, who's lore is still wip haha), I'll try to include some of his thoughts instead~

"Thoughts about the journey? Uhhh... I'm very new to this whole adventurer business to be honest. Not like I've even traveled Eorzea before, let alone across the sea to a new continent? Hawu'li kept telling me it'd be fine, that I'd like it and gain lots of new experiences, even if I had to sit in ship for ages to get there. The town... uh, Tuliyollal, was really cool! I've never seen a two headed mamool ja before, let alone them living in cities. And they had this crazy strong leader, Gulool Ja Ja! Bigger than anyone I've seen, and even with one head asleep he ended up actually keeping up with me! Also the big snake thing, whatever it was called. Those Alexandrians with their weird glowy rocks creeped me out a bit tho. I mean, who trusts their entire lives to some weird machine that just resurrects you if you die? If you don't trust your own abilities to keep you alive during a fight you shouldn't be fighting, that's just basic stuff. They have this very cool fight arena tho!"

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[piplupod]

hmmmmm. sorting through things in the brain and memories coming to the forefront from grade school and oooh boy i do not like that. things make so much sense but it doesnt paint a pretty picture!