#and if there was literally nothing he could have done then... what's even the point of trying?

[ellouchi]

Yet again I see people mischaracterizing Jimmy as some jerk who lashes out on people for no reason and berates them for anything minor like where did you get this from did you actually read any dialogues in the game????????

Jimmy really only threw one shade at Daisuke, he didn't think he was spoilt rich kid he just said he was covered by his parents because he had support system unlike all of them grown up adults. Most of times Jimmy just awkwardly slid off silly things Daisuke said, like the ladies comment or when they were mixing the drink. Daisuke actually trusted and listened to Jimmy throughout the game (to his own detriment unfortunately). Jimmy sent him to the vent because he was the captain and he wasn't going to do the dirty job obviously and if the Swansea somehow woke up Jimmy could shift the blame like he had already got away with. Even when eventually things went to shits we don't see him blaming Daisuke because Jimmy recognised that it was his decision to send him there. Jimmy didn't want to fatally injure him, he tried to "fix it later" which didn't help at all and Jimmy felt guilty about it.

Jimmy treated Anya dog shit half the time it's true but not to the extent some people make it to be. He loves control, he has said so to Curly's face, to ours and that's why he made sure to put her down and belittle her. That's why he (potentially repeatedly) sexually assaulted Anya — because rape is form of power play, he didn't even want her sexually. Initially, Jimmy didn't hate Anya, he just didn't like her and the feeling was mutual. He continued to do bare minimum for her, like when checking up on the crew. If I had to guess how Jim viewed her by the end, then he most likely found her inferior, incompetent, always putting work on his shoulders (or responsibilities he didn't want (pregnancy)), together with being paranoid of her having the potential to ruin his life. That's why he got so pissed off when he saw her crying to Swansea, very likely having already told another person of what he has done. (I'm 100% sure he holds the grudge for telling Curly, who then rushed to "fix things", making Curly seem like a responsible captain which Jim hated.)

Jimmy never made any attempts at understanding or sympathising with Swansea. He knew him longer than Daisuke yet the latter understood him better. Jimmy probably thought that Swansea was an old grumpy man who hated everyone and everything. As the game went on Jimmy just considered Swansea to be nothing but a selfish drunkard (due to immediately assuming he was hoarding cryopod to himself). After the vent incident who Jim blames for the absence of medicine? If Swansea wasn't so stubborn (for like, few times) Jimmy wouldn't have need to spend prescious recourses on him. He could have saved Daisuke instead and fix his fuck up but Swansea ruined it twice. Swan doing arguably the right thing by putting out Daisuke out of his misery only solidified his role as a villain and a threat in Jimmy's eyes, that's why probably as a revenge (for not giving him enough time to think) he went for the gun instead of cryopod like Swansea allowed him to.

And finally Curly. Honestly this deserves a separate book on it's own at this point. It's almost 3 a.m. here so I'll only mention some stuff. Jim aggressively lashes out twice on-screen, first time because he literally lost his dream job, listened to Curly "bitching about having said dream job" and couldn't come face to the fact that Curly was "abandoning him while also looking unscratched from the fall of the ladder" while Jimmy will return to his struggle of life (he didn't even know about the pregnancy yet...). Second time was when Anya endangered Jim's new status as a captain and like I mentioned reminded him that she could fuck up his life even more. Feeling like he was losing control, Jimmy beat up poor Curly who was stripped out of said control by non other than Jimmy. Finally, he was violent off screen by destroying Polle, out of frustration, irritation from the thing, and/or hatred and resentment for the company (que "Pony express is dead" line). In one instance he says "He's mocking us" which confirms that it's about Jimmy's ego.

In conclusion STOP MAKING MY SHITTY CHARACTER SHITTY IN THE WRONG WAYS. This isn't even a full blown analysis of Jimmy's character but accumulation of posts I read and conclusions I came with.

Focus on his already preexisting shitty qualities stop making up new ones ffs signing out.

[foodtruckery]

oh my GOD you are so big brain the idea of stan resorting to prostitution when theyre trapped between dimensions and it forcing both of them to come to terms with their issues through what im sure would be a really ugly argument

why am i now imagining ford looping the way stan's voice sounded through his head. wrecked and strained and ford's stupidly big brain is happily filling the gaps in for him about what stan did to sound like that. all the gritty details of imagining stan getting on his knees for someone, how rough it mustve been for him to have slightly red eyes. did they pull on stans hair? was he nothing but a willing hole, relaxing his throat to let them in? or did he actively reciprocate? did he run his tongue along the underside of their cock and hum something meaningless just for the vibration?

and then at some point, those visualizations start veering wayyy to close to fantasies for fords comfort when he starts imagining stan kneeling in front of him. his hand is stans hair, yanking him deeper. stan looking up at him with tears pricking at the corner of his eyes from the effort. stan moaning for him just from the feeling of ford's cock shoved down his throat-

i also feel like with a multiverse quite literally endless, it might in the long wrong help ford and stan get more comfortable when it comes to their feelings for each other. hard to draw a line at incest when you see what looks like a living water fountain banging a dishwasher or some other crazy shit like that

(also please dont feel pressure to answer asks fast! youve got your own life and your own responsibilities and theres no rush to get to anything i send you i just like to chat :D)

-🐶

MY FRIEND!! thank you for being patient with me! the last week and a half have been WILD and i have been chomping at the bit to get to my ask box! i'm sorry it's taken so long to get to this (and tbh i had kiiiind of hoped i would be done with this piece so i could share when i responded but fuck it! we'll get there! i wanna talk!) but i need you to know that this fuckin ask has absolutely been fueling me through the like. 6600 words i have written of this damn idea so far hahaha. so in exchange for all the lovely inspiration, i will tell you a bit about what i will hopefully be able to finish soon-ish here! cause like. YES. absolutely just love the idea of ford slowly figuring out what's going on and getting caught up on all the little details -- like what the fuck does the dick look like on a dishwasher, right???? how the hell did stan even figure out how to get something like that off?? is the technique applicable to ford's dick???? and honestly, i haven't delved as far into that whole train of thought as i had originally planned to (and might go back and add to it, who knows!) so i just really LOVE coming back to this ask and ruminating on all of THAT.

not to say that we aren't getting at least a LITTLE bit of it, of course! for you, 🐶, a snippet of what i've got so far because this bit in particular was absolutely inspired by this ask!

[velvet4510]

The Legacy of Nicholas Scratch

After episode 9, Nicky’s spirit calling out “Mama, stop!” as Agatha kills Alice hits WAY differently.

The popular theory prior to the finale was that Agatha accidentally killed Nicky herself, perhaps by inadvertently absorbing a manifesting power of his own and being unable to control/stop herself. And his voice from the Ouija board was actually a memory of his last words as she was killing him.

But actually, it’s entirely different. Nicky’s words were not about himself. They were about her, and her actions.

Unlike Agatha, Nicky had a strong conscience in life, if only due to the natural innocence of childhood. He never felt good about his mom killing all those witches, to the point where he spent their last day together sparing the lives of the latest group of witches and drawing Agatha away from them. And now 250+ years later, thanks to Billy, his spirit is briefly drawn back toward the living world just in time to see his mother is still doing it. She’s still hurting her fellow witches. So he makes one last plea: “Stop!”

Because Nicky knows his mom, better than anyone besides Rio. He knows that she is capable of love and kindness. He saw it every day in her care for him and in their shared joy as they wrote and sang their little song together. He’s witnessed so much proof of her heart and her capacity for good. He wishes she’d let herself tap into that side of her, and stop letting herself be the monster that everyone says she is. He’s always known that she can be more than that.

And this is exactly why Agatha does stop, just from the sound of Nicky’s name before she even hears his voice. She’s reminded of his concern for life in spite of, or perhaps because of, his (most likely) being the child of Death. A concern that she never let herself have.

All these years without Nicky, she’s let her pain and grief motivate her in killing those witches. How could any of these witches possibly deserve to live when Nicky didn’t? It’s a similar mindset to Clint as Ronin when all those criminals outlived his family. She might as well punish “the undeserving.” And in doing so, maybe, somehow, she’ll gain enough power to fill that ever-present hole that was torn into her chest the morning she woke up to find that he never would wake again.

But now here he is again, forced to see what she has become. And he doesn’t like it. He still wants her to stop.

No wonder Billy’s question “is this how Nicky died?” is what finally gets through to her. On the day he died, Nicky abandoned her quest to inflict death on others, wishing they could just let them live. That day, Agatha continued ignoring his wishes in favor of her own agenda, prompting him to apologize and give in, saying they can kill more witches tomorrow. Now here is Billy, who went through everything he did just to give life back to his brother. Who is doing exactly what Nicky would’ve done if he’d had a brother. And Agatha is about to abandon him to her own agenda once again. To get him killed just as she got all those witches killed in spite of Nicky’s pleas.

No.

Not again.

So with a literal kiss of Death, she finally embraces Nicky’s concern for life. She enters death in order to let someone else have life.

But … in perspective, that’s just one boy. Nothing will ever bring back any of those witches she killed. Nothing will ever undo those years that she spent turning the only piece of Nicky’s legacy, his only contribution to the living world in the stolen time he was given, into a conduit of the very thing he always opposed.

No wonder she can’t face Nicky. No wonder she’s afraid of seeing him. Even centuries later, she was still doing what he didn’t want her to do, and was about to keep on doing it to the point of needing a reminder of him. And she’s been doing it using their song. Corrupting his beautiful sweet little tune into a harbinger of doom. The very last thing he ever wanted his song to be used for.

No wonder she’d prefer staying with Billy, who is considerate of others’ lives just like Nicky was. Who is the first person to make her feel tender emotions since she lost her baby, the first person to open her eyes to the true horror of what she’s been doing with that ballad all these years. Who is her second chance.

She wouldn’t give Nicky what he wanted: for her to stop. But she will give Billy what he wants: his brother. She will spend her new “afterlife” as a ghost doing for Billy what she should’ve done for Nicky: helping him get what will make him happy, and devoting herself to that cause.

She failed Nicky, but she won’t fail Billy or Tommy.

[crivalsduo]

i dunno but the difference between dream being kept in relatively more pristine condition than dre is making me feel things

i think it's because of the implication of it.

hh!dream had his agency completely stripped from him. he was an object, a doll. the only reason he was kept in such a 'good' condition was because of the intention of sam to 'own' him and, later, because his usefulness depended on him being sexually desirable to people. it was never out of kindness or sympathy, it was always out of either a detached malice to his personhood or messed up need to possess him. he's not relatively whole and unscarred (physically) because anyone gave a shit about him, he's that way because people wanted him that way.

where dre was torn apart and mutilated because they didn't see him as human either but in the way that.... he needed to be punished for it. that's what happened to him. he was punished. you could argue punished for what he did but there's nothing a person could do to justify what happened. he was punished because quackity was angry and hated him, because sam believed he deserved it as some weird repentance. and when there was sexual violence, it was the violence that was front and center.

both of them lost any say in what was done to their bodies, in very different ways, and it's honestly horrifying. dream might've kept all his limbs but they thoroughly broke down his mind to the point he doesn't even know when his thoughts are his or what he, personally, would've done in a situation in the past. he doesn't know what's him and when he does, he's scared of it. and dre had people literally carve pieces of him away and put reminders of what they did to him into his skin. he can never escape those memories, never pretend he's fine because of what was done to him.

sorry, i just have. a lot to say on this.

[sammygender]

is there any point in the series that sam could have made an escape and actually successfully gotten away from dean and hunting, or do you think that his lack of support system made it impossible

FANTASTIC QUESTION. sorry im gonna ramble for 7374893594 words now

tldr, past like s3 (and certainly past s5) i think its kinda impossible.

early seasons, like 1-2, sure and totally, he almost does, he plans on it. but then the demon deal for his life happens and theyre trapped in cycles forever and ever and everything becomes a lot harder and, also, sam and dean just naturally become more and more codependent, decreasing the chances of them ever being able to have a 'normal relationship', which i think is necessary (dean loosening grip on sam, them having connections outside of each other) for sam to ever 'get away' from dean/hunting (cause otherwise its just an all-or-nothing choice, more on this in a sec).

i think its less so much about sam successfully getting away in terms of getting dean off his back/to leave him alone (which, dont get me wrong, WOULD be hard, especially as the seasons go on, considering dean cant stand to be alone and has extremely controlling and occasionally stalkerish tendencies <3..... but could still certainly be possible), but about him actually choosing to leave dean/hunting (which for the purposes of this question we r equating).

bc its sort of like..... he takes a lot of Breaks especially during mid seasons (s5 after lucifer's set free (tho iirc this one is dean's doing), s7 after dean kills amy, s8 with amelia tho he thinks deans dead, s9 after gadreel possession is revealed....) but he always always comes back. of course s8 is dean Literally Dragging sam back into it (<3) and also just shaking everything up by being generally Alive, but s7 and 9, its cause dean has done something awful thats genuinely shook sam up, and in the end he just... gets over it. cuz what is the alternative? dean doesnt change and rarely apologises!

like its the fact that of course he wants a relationship with dean because deans the closest person in his life and everything to him, but having a relationship with dean equals their intense codependent unhealthy bond, equals dealing with dean's disregard of his autonomy and ignoring it (read: letting it wear him down). dean's all or nothing. they cant just be 'normal brothers'. and i find it extremely hard to see sam ever actually longterm choosing 'no dean' over 'dean who loves him more than anything and will always do anything for him but systematically wears down his personhood and punishes him for percieved disobedience and thinks he's the one who gets to make choices about sam's life'. like he would have to have a bunch of connections outside of dean, they probably both would, and that would never really happen partially because of dean. they can never let anyone else get on their level. like u said. lack of support system!

and its like... what could dean Actually do that would make sam 'cut him off'/distance himself permanently. i literally and truly cannot think of anything. sam canonically has an INCREDIBLE capacity for forgiveness, just in general - where's that jared quote about how sam forgives everyone cause he sees himself as someone so in need of forgiveness - and this even more so applies to dean. dean locks sam up and leaves him to die, kills his friend, tricks sam into letting an angel possess him, and tries to kill him, and none of that makes sam leave dean permanently, not just because dean makes it physically difficult for him to (tho he does - insisting they work together in s7 on the case, going off to get mark of cain in s9) but also cause sam just eventually forgives him and moves on. is it 'capacity for forgiveness' or is it that he doesnt really view bad things that happen to him as a big deal, that (thru s5-esque emotional abuse techniques <3) deans subconsciously gotten him questioning his own reality and opinions so deeply that it just takes time before sam's agreeing with dean again. makes you think!

but tbf (and this is a digression but i just find it interesting) this probably goes both ways too - what could sam actually do to make dean leave him permanently? even when deans incredibly angry at sam he usually wants him around to berate about it <3. exceptions being start of s10 when hes a demon but even demon dean soon switches to sam-obsession.... and s5. which i know according to endverse Wouldve been a permanent split up? which is kind of wild? and canonises that that Couldve Happened i guess. samgirls should do more with endverse, id kill to see an actually good samcentric fic of like. the events leading to endverse. if anyones read any pls pls recs. ANYWAY. theres also ofc s2 meg possession, where dean just fully thinks sam killed people and is like <3 okay baby brothers lets pretend this never happened we got this do u need me to bury a body <3. truly a ride or die. unless ur actively going against Him specifically. things to think about. tell me ur takes.

and anyway then s11 onwards he is NOT getting out. not unless someone really managed to get it into his head Hey So Pro Tip This Is Fucked. sam acquiesces to dean-as-dictator, having literally Let Dean (be about to) Kill him, dean (newly cured from moc) is consequently much more pleased with sam and with their relationship, they fight much less and theres therefore much less prominent emotional abuse etc since dean is at his worst when hes upset. (iirc. late seasons are a blur except for jack stuff.). and by s13 he has a son and maybe if this happened seasons ago dean's treatment of jack would've been enough to prompt at least a temporary split up but it doesnt, it just sparks a few vague arguments between samndean and sam telling jack that dean is trying <3 and that its very difficult for him <3 which is why he told you hed kill you <3 thats just what dean is like you have to get over it at some point <3 (I LOVE S13). so then yeah. too late.

TLDR... he is too indocrinated <3. sad!

[lgbtlunaverse]

As a character Meng Yao is largely defined by his lack of freedom and while I think it's very important to understand that when he insists over and over that he had no other choices (that wouldn't put him at serious risk of death or severe harm) he is usually right, I do fucking love that just once- just once- the narative presents him and us with a crystal clear heartbreaking example of a better choice, a way out that he didn't even know was there, right as that possibility is taken away from him forever.

When Nie Mingjue walks into a forest angry on Meng Yao's behalf, ready to help him in any way he can, and Meng Yao kills a Jin captain thinking no one's gonna come. And then their eyes meet.

Fucks me up.

[forcebookish]

damn remember when ichigo went full hollow and orihime was terrified of him but when ulquiorra, someone she has only known as a hollow and kidnapped her by threatening to murder all her friends and spent her whole imprisonment intimidating her, asked her if she was afraid of him she said she wasn't

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

LIKE WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT????????

[blujayonthewing]

SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it

[girlcockholmes]

now that my PI is like hey you should actually be sitting in the lab to write instead of doing it at home im shooting one million lasers at his head in my mind. fuck off

[silverislander]

people smarter than me have said this before but jesus christ why does every job seem to require at least a year of experience and a degree in some hyperspecific field. where did the entry level positions go? how am i even supposed to get experience if none of yall will give me a job without it?

[asexual-levia-tan]

i love the bias + the fan pairings so much because on the surface its very "oh, well, the bias just has to fall for the fan and then its happily ever after" but no! its way more fun than that!

the fan isnt in love with the bias. in fact, the fan doesnt view this world as reality, nor do they even view their bias as a human. the fun part of this pairing is the fan having to recognize the world they live in as their new reality and the people around them as people! the bias falling for the fan is just part one, the fan falling for the bias as an Actual Human Being is just as important an element

[privatelife]

i feel like killing myself does anyone else feel like killing themselves

[sturionic]

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[thoughtfulseason]

tryna trick my mind into thinking that me making a fool myself (which wasn’t even that bad, i’m just taking it personally) is for the better

[tacticalprincess]

könig: ovulating all by yourself beautiful? <3

cw breeding kink

given the poor state of sex education when he was in school and his very minor interaction with women prior to you, könig was relatively clueless about almost everything to do with a woman’s menstrual cycle, besides the obvious bleeding aspect of it all. needless to say he was mind blown to find out about all the different phases, looking like a deer caught in headlights when you explained how much it fucks with your hormones on and off your period. he was literally the epitome of “just found out about periods… i’m so sorry women.”

ovulation was what he was most intrigued by, and not just because he’s always felt an overwhelming biological inclination to have you barefoot and pregnant with his children. all he knew was that once a month for a few days, your sex drive was insatiably high, and even the slightest of things he did triggered it. just the sight of him lounging on the couch was enough to have you jumping at him, pawing at his sweats and complaining that he was making his lap look too inviting.

you would be practically glued to his cock, sometimes to the point of frenzied and feverish. he could barely get anything done around you all glossy eyed and horny; he swears it’s almost as if you wanted him to stay inside you forever. he, of course, has no objections to this. it’s always a pleasant change from the snippy mood you’re in for a few days straight just a week before.

you don’t have a problem getting wet as it is, but during these days you get so creamy, and könig never gets tired of watching the way your pussy coats his dick in thick, pearly stickiness. the sex is always the most primal and dirty during your ovulation phase. telling him that your period tracking app warned you that your fertility is especially high that day would be like foreplay for him, and nothing made his caveman brain happier than to hear you cockdrunk and babbling about how bad you wanted to make him a father, begging him to breed your fertile womb. you can’t say stuff like that unless you mean it, maus, lest he rip the condom off and put a baby in your pretty pussy for real :(

you were both chancing it, fucking like bunnies on such high risk days. but it wasn’t like könig wouldn’t be ecstatic if it so happened to take…

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

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mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...