#i love talking about myself but only when other people ask

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Careful, Bub | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: I showed my friends, then we high-fived / Sorry if you feel objectified / Can't help myself, hormones are high / Give me more than just some butterflies

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Sexting, Nude Photos, Mentions of Sex Toy Use, Dom!Logan, Logan Talks You Through It, P R A I S E K I N K ! L O G A N, Choking of the Sexual Variety, Shoving, Claws Come Out,  Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Logan is 200 years old), Reader used to have confidence issues but worked through them,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 8.5k

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

It’s fun to relate to the people that live in the same place as you, something about it deepens the connection. Whether it is a mutual bonding over music, entertainment, or even sports – it always makes you feel closer, comfortable. In this day and age, it can be almost lonely if you aren’t connected with others through your phone, making the world feel a bit glummer. Having that safe group is necessary to be one with the world, to feel like you’re going to be okay – like everything is going to pan out. You happened to luck out by living in the same building as some of the most heinous, and hilarious characters the world has ever set eyes on. You have the fortune of calling them your friends.

The group chat was originally Wade’s idea. His way of bringing you into the crew when you worked late, not missing a moment of meet ups you couldn’t make it to. It was a sweet gesture, but with how many others were in there – it overwhelmed you. Out of the twelve people who are constantly messaging the chat, you found safety within two of them. Negasonic and Yukio happened to be your solace when the chat was too loud. Yukio wasted no time in creating a Girls Only chat for you three, where nothing was held back. You three could express yourselves in every way possible, without the guys being weirdos – mainly Wade but still. It was great to have women friends around your own age, that was something you were not used to. 

Any inside joke about the guys or about events being organized was ran through your three separately, making small bets here and there on what Al would say, who Peter would try to have grab his chain, how many times Logan told Wade to fuck off. Logan, that made you tune in real quick. The possibilities were endless and made it eventful to say the least. But the one thing you loved the most about your friendship with Nega and Yukio is how open they are with you; Honest, encouraging, your own personal cheerleaders. When you initially met them, you were a shy little wallflower – getting by on just being a listener over a talker. Always the encourager, never getting encouragement. Shying away anytime someone was nice to you, never accepting it as truth. Yukio and Nega were the opposite of what you were, and everything you wanted to be.

Having a safe space with them meant you could send them anything and they’d listen, give advice, be the best friends you could’ve ever asked for. It was with them that you found your confidence, something you always struggled with. It was one photo you sent them of the dress you were wearing – both ladies telling you how beautiful and gorgeous you are, how hot you looked in it. That small little omission altered your brain chemistry. You hadn’t been called hot before, so it invigorated you to hear that. It was a long dive into the endless pool below, and you were ready for the journey down. Months and months of slowly getting out of your shell with them turned you into a little vixen, the compliments they gave you caused you to thrive. You always reciprocated for them as well, hyping them up through and through. It felt good to feel like you were worth it, like you weren’t just there. It changed the way you saw yourself, and you knew you’d never go back to how it was before.

Tonight was no different, after all you had just gotten back from hanging out with them. A trip downtown to the mall was a call for chaos when it was you three, Wade forcing Logan to stay home with him and reenact The Greatest Showman with Mary Puppins. It bummed you out for a bit, not being able to chill with Logan like you wanted, but when Wade called – no one told him no. It was a secret to everyone who wasn’t Yukio and Nega that you had a thing for Logan. Something about the older man burned right through you in the most sensual way possible, something deep and longing you never wanted to leave. Little glances you two would have together always caused the girls to giggle, teasing you about it later but, it was only a matter of time before the chord snapped, before you gave in. Still that fear sat at the back of your mind, the what if’s. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he doesn’t want anyone? What if? What if? What if?

As you sit on your plush rug right in front of your wall length mirror, you leaned against the side of your bed, humming as you thumbed through the earlier group chat messages. Behind you on your duvet sat the bag full of clothing you had gotten, trying to add more color into your wardrobe. Beneath it all sat a spicy little number you nabbed whole Yukio and Nega were changing, something that felt so right you needed to have it. It wasn’t a secret that you would buy yourself things like these every now and again but, this time around you felt empowered holding this little secret just for yourself, to surprise your friends with. They always said that color duo made you look fearless, powerful, gorgeous – and you’d be damned if you’d pass it up, especially on sale.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you contemplated getting up to take a shower or put on your new set, feeling yourself out, getting some prime photos then showering. The toss up between the two left you unable to choose, wondering if you could go hang out with Wade and Laura instead, maybe even sneak your way into Logan’s room. The thought made your body shiver, needing to close your eyes for a moment to brace yourself. Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind wander, your hand grabbing the bag off your bed instinctively. It was a given deep down you wanted to prance around your room in the set, spicing up your night. Something about wearing it underneath your clothes while hanging out with everyone felt taboo, downright sinful – but you craved it.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, you gently grabbed each piece of lingerie out of the bag, the rustling of tissue paper filling the air as your music droned low in the background. The bra was placed carefully against the bed first, followed by the lacy things and garter set; Your eyes quivered with arousal as you saw it, knowing how it was going to make you feel. There was no wasted effort in stripping completely naked, tossing your day clothes into the laundry basket. The slight cool breeze coming from your central air, mixing with the intoxicating smell of the candles lit around you made your eyes darken, your nipples pebbling against the air. You understood why you were excited and giddy to be putting it in, but in the back of your mind you also felt nervous. It was confusing you.

Pushing it out of your head, you ignored the nagging in the back of your mind, solely focusing on the task at hand. Sliding the soft lace of the thong up your thighs, you reveled in how it felt – how it glided against your skin so softly, like it was a lover. How supportive it felt cupping your front whilst holding your behind helped to quell some of the nerves lying low in your belly. Snapping the elastic band against your hip, you giggled as you grabbed the bra. Even though it was lacy and covered almost nothing, it had good support for your breasts, holding them perfectly to show the most amount of cleavage, but also leaving some to the imagination. In between the small bits of detailing, you could see the color of your nipple, which caused your smirk to grow. Biting your bottom lip, you smoothed your hands over the apex of your breasts, watching as the flesh spilled over slightly.

All that was left was your garter belt, sitting across the middle of your stomach and hooking onto your stockings. You worked quickly to pull them up as you let the music take over you, swaying to the beat so it was less intimidating. As the final strap was hooked to the top of your stockings, you let out a shaky sigh, silently prepping yourself for what you would see once you turned around. Keeping your eyes closed you spun around slowly, letting the anticipation eat away at you until you couldn’t take anymore. Usually you were so confident when it came to trying these pieces on, not giving a second worry to them – this time around you were nervous, as if this particular color scheme made you scared. You couldn’t let that hold you back, not after how far you have come, it wasn’t worth it.

Slowly you opened your eyes as you faced the mirror, the blue tint of the strip lighting giving a whimsy glow to your room. The focal point of your vision started to become clear as you looked at your face, makeup still immaculate and beautiful from earlier. But as your eyes panned down to your body, you felt a fresh wave of goosebumps flood your skin, a shaky moan leaving your lips. The yellow of the bra and thong complimented your figure wonderfully, amplifying the gorgeous glow of your skin. But truly it was the navy blue of your stockings and belt that made your body quiver; The royal deep color punctuating your sensuality with how you stood. You couldn’t believe this was you, in all your baren glory – a fucking goddess amongst men, you could send one to the hospital just with this set. You couldn’t keep your smile back any longer as you stared at yourself, admiring your body and its shape against the lingerie. All the worries, all the small doubts instantly fell away, your confidence skyrocketing.

You knew for a fact Yukio and Nega would hype you up, thinking this was totally you¸ and probably ask if you got it today. But those could wait, you needed to take photos – you needed to see what you looked like on screen. The giddy nature of what you were doing sent shivers through your body, the thought of what positions would look best making you grow excited. You decided that your go-to for new outfits would fit perfectly in this scenario. Who knows, you could save this photo for a rainy day when you wanted to tease someone. You grabbed your phone off of the bed as you dropped to your knees, the plush shag material of your lilac rug feeling lovely against your legs.

Parting your thighs, you left a good gap between both as you sunk yourself down. One hand came to press against the floor directly in front of your clothed core, tossing your hair over to the opposite side. As you held your phone in position with your free hand, you noticed how your arm was pushing your breasts together deliciously, deepening the cleavage, sending your eyes a shade darker. Pouting your lip as cutely as you do, you snapped a few quick photos, getting every great angle you could as you changed your hair direction. A blur of photos filled your camera roll as you felt yourself, “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter coming across your playlist at the best time.

As you laughed to yourself, you finally stopped taking photos, sitting with your back against the bed and crossing your legs. Each photo you took was a masterpiece, amplifying your beauty by tenfold. But out of each one, it was the very first one that felt real, authentic to you. The others you were playing sexy up, trying to get the best fuck me look going, but it felt too artificial for your taste. It was the first one, the one where your eyes were dilated, where your nipples perked beneath the fabric, where your thighs trembled that made you feel like a God. It was a no brainer that this is what Yukio and Nega were getting, there was no way around it now. Clicking the share icon in your camera roll, you clicked on the first green bubble, eyes blurred from how excited you were about this risky photo. I’d be a lot tougher with claws.

You sent off the cheeky message without a second more thought to it, locking your phone instantly. As you tossed the device on your bed, you put on the silk bathrobe hanging off of the corner of your mirror, wrapping yourself up quickly. All that thirst-trapping made you thirsty, the dry mouth you were getting was too much for you. As you opened your bedroom, making it around to your kitchen of your apartment, you opened your fridge up quickly to grab a water bottle. The cold plastic in your hand brought you back to Earth, your body coming back into itself as your reality started to slip back in. The cap was popped off easily by you, finding its way across the quartz top. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you let them wrap around the opening, gulping down the cold liquid. It felt nice with how hot you felt, bringing your internal temperature back down as your mind cleared.

Ding. The tone of your phone going off made you stop drinking, catching your breath as you swallowed down the water. So lost in bringing yourself back to the present time, you forgot you had messaged the chat. You screwed the lid back onto the bottle as you set it on the countertop, promising to come back to it. As you made your way elegantly back to your room, that pull of nausea and nerves made you stop. Your stomach churned as you stood in the doorway, the threshold keeping you upright. That same feeling from earlier was back as you put on the lingerie, not knowing why you felt so nervous and scared all of a sudden. It made you confused, weary as to what your body was trying to tell you. It’s just Yukio and Nega, why are you being so flighty? Groaning to yourself, you rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your bed.

Plopping down onto the duvet, you sprawled out on your stomach as you grabbed your phone, using your face ID to unlock it. Yes you would. Colors look good on you. You cocked a brow at the message, reading the lines over and over again. It didn’t sound like Nega or Yukio to be so short-worded. Usually, they would send a plethora of emojis before screaming in all caps. But that was just the thing, your last message open wasn’t to the group chat, but one individual instead. It all made sense now, why you felt so scared and nervous. Your eyes went wide as you read the contact’s name, not seeing your groupchat. No, instead it read Logan. It wasn’t the groupchat that received the photo, it was him.

You screamed as you threw your phone across the floor, palms shaking as you sat up silently. The noise in your brain was too loud to focus, the intake of your breath and blood pulsing through your ears made everything too much. Anxiety was sitting in the back of your throat, threatening to spill your stomach out. You scrambled across the floor on your hands and knees to grab your phone, still unlocked from a few moments ago. Shaky fingers worked to unsend the photo, blessing the tech gods for that feature. You were too anxious to type, opting for speech to text instead. “I’m so sorry about that! I meant to send that to Nega and Yukio.” Seeing the wording typed out didn’t feel right, as weird as that sounded. Admitting it felt like a sin, more so than sending a sexy photo to The Wolverine. After all, wasn’t this your endgame anyways? It’s not like you haven’t deep infatuated with him since he became Wade’s friend, since you started hanging around him a lot more. Wasn’t it you who stated that by the end of the year, you’d kiss him? Wasn’t it you who said you would fight tooth and nail to make him yours?

Being sucked into your mind by your thoughts caused you to delay in sending your message, instead removing the text with your finger to completely disappear. Ding. Right as you were thinking of your response, you saw another message come through from Logan, one you didn’t anticipate. Put it back. Now. There was no way he said that, right? Oh, but there was. As your eyes shook from excitement, nervousness, and fear you could make out the small letters of Logan’s message, feeling his desire through the text. He wasn’t a big texter, he even said that himself – but to see him say more than two words was insane to you, even now when he was clearly enamored with you. There was no right or wrong way to reply, but no words you could think of held a light to the dominance Logan is showing.

Incoming FaceTime Call: Logan. The red and green buttons at the bottom made you stir, wondering if it would be a good idea to answer. This was one of his favorite ways to communicate, to see how things were going and what you were up to. Granted they never lasted more than two minutes because Wade would always hijack it but still – the little slivers of time you got with Logan was special. This time around though? It felt wired, like if you answered you’d get the shock of a lifetime. But what was life without a little self-indulgence? Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you fixed a few strands of your hair, pulling your robe a bit tighter around your chest as you sat back against the bed, letting your butt hit the floor as you got comfortable. Dragging your thumb along the green answer button, you positioned your phone a few inches away from your face, enough to get your collarbone up in the shot. A slow, pregnant pause caused by your phone’s connection delayed seeing Logan. But once it came to be, you were taken aback.

The dark of the early night was cresting behind his head, the sun starting to descend into the horizon. His eyes glittered against the holiday lights, causing your heart to swell. Once he looked back down at the camera, he couldn’t help himself but by staring at you, a small smile threatening to take over his lips. “Hey,” he let out with an airy breath, the slight chill of the night causing it to puff out. You felt yourself suck in a breath, the energy already charged. Reflecting his own smile, you sent your own through your phone as you waved. “Hi.” Usually you were a lot more talkative, teasing him to make him smile but – none of that felt right in this moment. Even with seeing his face on your screen, you could tell he was hiding something – not really saying what he wanted to. His eyes were black against the horizon behind him, no sight of hazel coming through.

“How’re you?” You managed to let out, your voice lower than usual as you let your legs stretch out, leaning further back against the side of the bed. Logan didn’t miss a second of your movements as he walked down the street, the light bustling of cars filling the sound barrier. From the buildings behind him, you could see he was downtown, more than likely heading to the bar for a quick drink. You silently wished he asked to meet you there, to hang out privately for once. But that playful glint in his pupils told a different story as he rounded the corner, staring down at you. “Did Wade tell you about my suit?”

Logan asked with a slight smirk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he watched for your reaction. Cocking a brow in his direction you tried to understand what he was asking, not sure what suit he meant. You knew that Logan was The Wolverine, it was no secret. But you never saw his suit, only meeting him a week after he jumped into your timeline. Shaking your head at his question, you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing on the skin to help combat the butterflies in your stomach. The swishing of your hair from side-to-side aiding in cooling you down. “Then what made you choose yellow and blue?” His smirk never let off as he asked, prying. He wanted to fully talk about the photo, he wanted to see if it was truly accidental or planned. Your mouth went dry when he asked, not having a concrete answer for why you chose that color scheme. Shrugging you tightly laughed, releasing your lip as you focused on your mirror. “I thought it was a pretty combination.”

Pretty, by association it was like you were calling Logan pretty. Even if you didn’t know about his original suit, still he associated himself with those colors. Logan mirrored how you were before, pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth as he chuckled. Struggling for a moment, Logan managed to flip his camera around to pan at his legs – the clean yellow and blue pants is all he had to remember his original suit. It caused your heartrate to pick up again, hammering in your chest as you got a brief glimpse at his clothed crotch. It took every fiber of your being to contain yourself, to hide the whimper clawing up the back of your throat. Lost in thought of what he could be hiding under there you didn’t notice how the screen flashed a few times – a text bubble popping up you couldn’t focus on. Logan took screenshots of your reaction.

The camera flipped back to Logan’s face, the heat cresting its way up your neck as you stared at him, your own pupils blown out.  “Do you still think so?” He teased, dropping his voice down a few octaves. You could tell he was wearing his headphones to talk, making it more intimate for him to hear than everyone else. It sent your body up in flames at how you could say anything, and it would be only for Logan. “More than ever before.” It was a no-brained response, you didn’t have to think in order to speak. Your mind was already as alert as it was going to be, the filter around Logan you had previously no longer existed on this call. Logan stopped his walking to stare down at you, narrowing his eyes with a genuine smile as he licked his lips, nodding to himself.

Logan jutted his chin out towards the camera as he started to walk up another well-lit street, never taking his eyes off the camera. “You wanna show me what my colors are hiding under there?” He nodded towards your bathrobe, a sliver of the bra showing against the fur collar. There was one of two ways this could’ve gone, either play into it or shy away. This was clearly an attempt from Logan to see how far you’d want to go with him, really a test for if this was accidental. Mutual pining after one another for so long burnt you both out, so if it kept going there would be no tell when it would stop. The power was now in your hands, there wasn’t much else you could play with. Putting on your best innocent eyes, you let the pretty little smile fall to your mouth, puffing your lower lip out slightly. “Dunno – you sure you can handle it?” Game on.

The sassy tone you let on with your question had Logan’s pants tightening, his breath coming out in sharp bursts as he tried to control himself. Having animalistic tendencies meant that anytime he was aroused, he needed to stake his claim. Show the world who you belong to, who his mate was. Even if you didn’t know, he did. He could smell it on you any time you went past him, or when you looked at him. In another life, in another world you were his – and he planned to make you his on Earth-10005 as well. Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Logan snorted as he stopped in his tracks, pressing his back against the brick wall of one of the local pubs. “I can handle you, missy.” Logan hissed, letting his eyes go naturally wide to signify how serious he was. The low growl seeping up from his throat made your body shiver, made your fingers work slowly to undo the ties on your bathrobe. “Don’t get it twisted.”

You couldn’t help but snort to yourself as you heard Logan say that, never expecting the 200-year-old man to say something so modern. Laughing lowly as you stripped out of the bathrobe, you let a sliver of your chest show, how your robe fell off of your shoulder. Logan’s eyes narrowed in to watch you take it off, the silk falling behind you. All that he could see was the plush skin of your breasts hanging slightly over the cups, nothing more. A weak moan slipped past his parted lips as he watched, needing to shut his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t cum in his pants. You knew you had Logan right where you wanted him, letting you take the control back of the situation. It made you feel powerful knowing he was so weak for you, even if it was for a short period of time. “Ew, Wade needs to stop teaching you catchphrases of the early 2010’s.” You weren’t a tease all the time, you could see Logan’s labored breathing through the call, could tell he needed a distraction.

Your remark was enough to make Logan open his eyes again, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes; The whites almost impossible to see. “Why are you changing the subject?” He panted, standing upright again as he pressed his covered back to the wall, cocking a brow in your direction. You weren’t prepared for Logan’s retort, thinking you may have the upper hand while he was aroused, yet he always managed to surprise you. Sucking your teeth, you shook your head in confusion, rolling your eyes away from his gaze. “Aw, is someone flustered?” He pouted, smiling with a hint of smugness. Your mouth falling open in a silent gasp made him chuckle, finding it quite adorable how you’re trying so hard. The burning across your face was a clear indication to you that Logan was getting under your skin, trying his hardest to truly break you. It wasn’t in a callous or mean way, but more to show you who you belonged to. Putting the phone closer to his face so you could see only him, he made sure he was loud and clear. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll be nice and gentle.”

“Fuck off, Howlett.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, exposing your cleavage to the camera without realizing it, your cool slipping through your fingers. The dead giveaway of how he was affecting you came in the form of your camera shaking, your fingers betraying you as you tried to suck in a deep breath. Looking away from the camera didn’t help when Logan stared like he was going to eat you alive, devouring you with every glint his eyes gave. You had to admit it to yourself, your confidence reserve was running out, completely going dry the longer you sat and talked with Logan. If he didn’t act now, he was forever going to hold his peace. “I’d rather fuck you.” It flowed off his tongue so elegantly, never deterring his steps as he managed to walk again. At first you thought you may have misheard him but, you heard him loud and clear, perfect in fact.

The shock written across your face, mixed with desire caused Logan’s restraint to snap. He moved away from the bars entrance and instead kept straight, letting the cold November air nip at him a bit longer. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Mouth hanging open, brow creased with a mix of shock and anxiety, you were going through it within seconds, all because of dear Logan. The confidence, the bravado, the je ne sais quoi you have held on the up and up finally slipping. Revealing itself when the shy version of yourself you thought you buried. The submissive angel, Logan had you wrapped tightly around his hand, reminiscent of his old cage fighting wraps. “Eye-fucking can only get you so far, princess.” Logan knew you wouldn’t pull away now, you were putty in his hands. But he could have a little fun with you, and boy did he plan to. It was a sure thought that you weren’t as obvious as you may have thought when staring at Logan, silently begging him to fuck you. The whole time, he knew.

“You’ve known?” It was a silly question to ask but Logan wasn’t stupid. He’s been around for more than 200 years, he could see through stuff as it came through. He is also very well known for retorting back no but I do now, pretending to know a secret as a way to coax you into telling him. You had to make sure this wasn’t like that – or else you’d implode. Logan nodded at you as the lights started to dim around him, a gentle glow from afar lighting the edges of his face. He was still outside but away from the light pollution, an alleyway most likely. Propping his phone up on the closest discarded shelf near a door, he nodded as he pulled out his flask. “No shit I’ve known, you can thank Yukio for that one.” Yukio, your friend. There was no malicious feelings towards her for telling Logan, in fact she may have done you a favor. But it got you thinking, who else did she tell? Was it one giant secret that the whole group knew, hence why they tried to push you both together constantly? “She tells Wade everything.”

And there it was, the shot heard ‘round the world. It made sense that she told Wade, and Wade blabbed to Logan – Yukio would never face the conflict head-on, it went through a source. Releasing the breath you were unaware you were holding, you nodded into the open air as you sunk further against the bed, a bead of sweat gathering on your hairline. The back of your throat felt tight, dry, highly uncomfortable for your own liking. Trying to swallow was like trying to fit a watermelon into a wine bottle, impossible due to how high your blood pressure was. Now that the light pollution of the city wasn’t creating streaks of orange across his screen, he could fully take in your shocked state – seeing the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. “What? You didn’t think I’d feel the same way?” Logan asked honestly, no longer keeping up the teasing. Seeing the distress on your face caused him to pull back, wanting you to tell him when it was good. He wasn’t going to push further; He didn’t want to ruin this.

The chord of your neck worked to string your words together, trying to find the best match to speak. Nothing felt, nor sounded right on your tongue; It drove you mad. “No, but I thought it was a fantasy more than anything.” You squeaked, coughing to bring some moisture back to your throat. Adjusting yourself on the floor, you brought the camera down a bit, pulling it further back for comfort – a typical position for you. Logan noticed though, how he could see you bright and clear as day, in your pale-yellow bra, that you had just for him. The slightly darker color of your nipple crept through the fabric, causing his pants to tighten, but he wouldn’t tease you further unless you felt better. “Can’t fantasies come true?” It was Logan’s last-ditch effort to ease the anxiety rising in your stomach. It helped, hearing him say that. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, it didn’t feel scary. It was beautiful, the start of something more.

“Are you sitting on the floor?” You pulled your camera back to pan it around yourself, showing off your little number as you sat, pulling your legs into a criss-crossed position. “Yeah, I got spooked off my bed thank you very much!” You stated with a smirk, showing how you were teasing. Logan liked how you said it, acting all sassy as you puffed out your bottom lip. It was cute, you looked precious to him. Everything about you made Logan feel alive, like his life was worth living instead of drowning it with the bottle. You made him want to be a better man, to settle down, start a family – anything you wanted he would give you even if you asked. That, is how much he loved you. “Flip your camera around.” He motioned, twirling his finger as he drank from his flask, groaning at the taste.

Obeying his command, you flipped your camera around as you showed him the mirror right in front of you. Waving cutely through it to him, you fluttered your legs as you sat, anticipation eating its way through you. Seeing the softness of your belly against your thong sent his mind spiraling, his eyes flickering to the fabric down further, hoping to God he could see your arousal. For a moment he took you in, how shy you were getting under his gaze. Hell, he could see the goosebumps forming themselves on your thighs, wanting to sink his teeth into the plushness of your flesh. Nudging his head towards you, his next command was on the tip of his tongue. “Spread your legs, c’mon.” The way it rolled out of his mouth like warm honey had your eyes wavering, threatening to roll back.

Slowly you began by uncrossing your legs, sticking your feet up absentmindedly towards the mirror, making sure to wiggle your toes under the stockings. It was a good tactic for teasing; Logan was living for your control. As your clothed claves hit the rug, you started to swing your legs open, letting each inch of the fabric rub against your soft legs. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by Logan, reveling in how responsive you are. “That’s it, good girl.” The fated words that made you lose yourself every time, fell out of Logan’s mouth so naturally. As he spoke that blissful name to you, finally your legs were fully open, able to see every little bit of you. It felt good, right to have his eyes on you. He wasn’t someone who could hide his emotions well nowadays, utterly losing it the longer he stayed with Wade. But in this moment you saw the true reserve on his face, the realization that even though he’s in some back bar’s alleyway, anyone could see him. The arousal coating his face, how his eyes focused harder to make out that tiny banana-yellow stain of your wetness on your panties, he was so lost in this moment. “Lean back, get comfortable. Eyes on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you leaned back fully against the side of your bed. Reaching to your left, you grabbed at the tripod Nega got you for your birthday this year, shortening the neck of it to sit perfectly to your side. Shaky hands did not make for stable camera work. Something in the back of your mind said this would be the best thing for him; No shaky cam as he directed you, all hands free just for him, it was the perfect pick. Pushing your phone quickly into the top slot of the tripod, you placed your hands on the inside of your thighs, tickling the soft flesh as you awaited Logan’s next words. Beneath the lace, he could see your perky nipples pebbling at the mere instructions he was giving you – silently berating himself for not going over to your apartment and showing you why they call him an animal.

“You’re such a good listener. Don’t think, just do.” You weren’t even trying at this rate, you naturally fell into the submissive role so easily. A commanding personality like Logan always made you fold, obeying each word like it was spoken from God. It’s the reason it made you so special in the bedroom; It’s the reason Logan became obsessed with you. Seeing your submissive side slip through the cracks every now and again made him yearn, a man starved. He could have anyone and all he needed was you. “Listening so well for me.” It was what you could do well in this moment, even with the steady flow of blood pumping through your ears. The whooshing and thumping making it difficult to hear anything other than Logan; The current making room like Moses parted the Red Sea, only he shall walk on through. “Show me, sweetheart.” You felt like you were burning up, from the inside out. Cooking hotter by the words Logan was saying, not able to keep your cool anymore. The husk of his voice, mixed with the lucidness of the alcohol slipping around his tongue made you see stars. If it was possible, you’d cum just from his voice.

Antsy was a perfect descriptor of how you were feeling at the moment, suspense eating right through your chest as the insinuation in Logan’s voice. “Show you what, Lo?” Ah, yes. Your last semblance of control before Logan completely shit-stomped it. An irritated groan fell between Logan’s mouth as he slammed his hands against the wall, the shelving where you were propped up on shaking. His head dangled between his shoulders as he breathed heavily. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.” That was the final straw, the endless teasing towards one another had finally broken. There would never be a way to go back from this, and you fucking thanked whatever or whoever was listening. Check fucking mate, Logan Howlett. That was all you needed to push forward.

You pulled at the side of your panties, swinging it onto the other side of your cunt as you opened your thighs up a bit more. The delicious stretch was aiding in the opening of your folds, letting the crisp air of your room lap through them. Logan drew his head up as he heard your silence, a painful growl slipping through his lips as he drew his brow together in pain. Nothing in this world could’ve prepared him for the sight he sees in front of him, the picture perfect gorgeousness, the thing he wanted tattooed on his brain. It was the purest form of Logan you could’ve possibly gotten; Veins of his neck bulging, eyes slanted so close to being closed, labored breathing like he ran a marathon. This was The Wolverine.

The sight on your phone made a fresh wave of your slick run out of your cunt, seeping onto the thin fabric between your cheeks. Using your first and forefinger to part yourself, you made sure to keeps your eyes on the mirror, eyeing the camera as you rubbed your pearly nub. The bead erect with arousal, begging to be touched. A simple flick of your finger across it had your entire lower half jolting. The sensation almost too much for your sensitive clit. Chewing on your bottom lip to help calm you down, slowly you began to make tentative circles with your first and middle finger, getting used to the sensation as your other hand slipped right under your bed to your secret box, one that no one would suspect.

Logan didn’t miss how you rubbed yourself so tenderly, loving yourself in the greatest way possible, while watching the perverse side of him come alive. He felt so naughty watching you masturbate, listening to his directions in the fucking alleyway. If he ran fast enough, he could be at your apartment before you made yourself orgasm, able to eat you out until you were crying for him to stop. No, this’ll do. He also didn’t miss how you reached frantically under your bed, eyes still on him as you grabbed a velvet bag. The purple glistened against the LED strips lights in your room, the multichrome coloring reflecting rainbows against your fingers. Quickly you worked the bag open, trying to grab at the first toy you could reach. Of course, it was not only the biggest dildo you had, but also happened to be yellow and blue. When Logan saw that, girth and all, he was roiling.

With how wet you were, you didn’t need lube to push your toy into you. Needy didn’t even touch upon how you felt. “Easy there baby, inch at a time. Ease it in, that’s it.” Logan cooed as you struggled to stretch around your toy, the burn already aiding in your arousal. Nodding at Logan’s words, you slowly inched the toy within your tight hole, never letting up on your clit to aid in the stretch. “L-Lo,” you moaned out quickly, eyes rolling back as your head lulled. If Logan was anything like this toy, you’d be unable to walk in the morning, you were hoping for that. “What, sweetheart? Feel too good?” Logan mewled as he gripped his tented cock through his pants, reveling in the harshness at which he was grabbing it. The bark he let out made your body shake, the thickest part of your dildo fully sheathed inside of you. “You deserve to feel this good honey, you’re the best girl.”

The praise was too much as you reached the base of the toy, your lower belly feeling so full of it. Carefully you pulled back on the toy, letting half of it out before you pushed it back in. The rigidness of the silicone rubbing against your spongy spot made you gasp, a throaty moan slipping into the night’s air, echoing throughout Logan’s headphones. “That’s my girl, nice and steady baby.” Logan had no idea what he was even saying anymore, or where he was going. All he knew was that his mouth was going and his feet were moving. Where they’d end up? He’d find out sooner or later. Palming himself as he steadily walked, Logan cut down the corner of the alley, making his way left. “Stretch that cunt out for me honey. I’ll fill you real soon.” Looking down at his screen all he could see was your blissed out face, the hearty stretch of your pussy around your toy, and the absolutely hot sight of your glistening body in his colors. “Just keep going, focus on my voice.”

Nodding at his words, you started to move the toy faster inside of you. The grip you had on the base helped it to conform to your cunt, filling in every ridge. Words escaped you in this moment, all you could do was focus on Logan’s face on your phone, watching how he never looked up at he walked, eyeing you like you were the World Series. Cresting behind your eyes was your orgasm, threatening to take you out with one swipe of your fingers. You couldn’t finish so soon, you wanted Logan to see exactly how it was for you. But there was no use, your arousal was so high, you were going to cum one way or another. The small squeak you let out caused Logan to stop in his tracks, glaring down at the phone will his full, undivided attention. “Look at the mirror baby, watch how sexy you are when you cum.” The breathy moan to which he released those words caused you to unleash the deepest groan you could muster, eyes blown out to nothing as you looked in the mirror.

Just like that, like the snap of your fingers, that string tethering you and Logan together snapped. Everything went white. Your ears rang as your throat became raw – yet no sound broke through. The sweetest coaxing could be heard miles away but yet it faded quickly. The world wasn’t spinning or moving for that matter. Instead, it was just staying still, letting you soak in this orgasmic bliss. Slowly the fog began to clear for you, your vision turning solid again as you watched the mirror. Heavy panting made up the sound coming back. The shaking of your body slowing down the longer you twirled the toy inside of you, rubbing your fingers deftly across your clit. Little by little, the blissful nature of your orgasm satiating that deep hunger looming in your chest. “That’s my good girl, making me so proud.” Logan’s tender voice cut through the staticky sound as your breathing steadiest itself. Licking your lips as you let your eyes wander around your room, you noticed that your tripod was a lot taller than you initially realized, almost looming over you as your fingers never stopped. Only that wasn’t your tripod, and that voice you heard was coming from directly beside you.

“Hi, princess,” Logan smirked into the mirror, meeting your gaze as you realized what was happening. It took a moment for it to register, wondering why he looked so much bigger now. Watching the figure of Logan reach between your legs in the mirror, it only clicked to you when you felt his grip close around the base of the dildo, pulling it out of you with cautionary ease. Shivering from the loss of girth within you, you snapped your head to the right as Logan caught your eyes. Smirking, he waved the wet dildo at you, chuckling as he threw it onto the bed. “H-Hey Logan,” you managed to let out, gulping down the pool of saliva in your bed. Nudging his chin behind you, Logan ran his calloused fingers over your chin, gripping your skin firmly. “Get on the bed.” It wasn’t an ask, it wasn’t a question. It was an order.

“Logan-“ you began, but were stopped when Logan grabbed at your throat, pushing against your pulse point with two fingers. The new sensation made your core clench around nothing, pulsating openly as you looked into Logan’s obsidian eyes, trying to make out what was going to happen. “Now.” Logan ordered, grabbing you by the neck and waist as he helped you up. Standing on wobbly knees was not a good idea, but damn it if it didn’t feel good. It took a moment to acclimate back into your body, Logan’s bodyweight kept you upright as you struggled. “Don’t make me tell you again, you won’t like that.” The threat made you want to break it, break him. Playing a brat for him would be a fun adventure, but the desperate nature of your arousal made you reconsider. Yet you were naturally doing it, and Logan was going to love punishing you later. “Very good girl.” Logan praised as you slowly sat back onto the bed, letting the silky material of the duvet caress your body.

How did he get in here? That was a question crossing your mind, nothing else but how. He wasn’t there all the time and you knew it, remembering that you were FaceTiming him. Narrowing your eyes in the direction of the bedroom door, you thankfully had a clear view to your front door, seeing that it was shut but – not quite perfect anymore. A smirk laid across your lips as you noticed the claw marks on the door, specifically around the doorknob, you assumed on both sides. Plus, the small splinter on top of his hand that he is currently picking out was enough tell for you. Logan had used his claws to unlock your door and get into your apartment. He was never going to the bar, this entire time he was walking to your apartment. It made sense now. This whole time he was coming to make you his. The revelation caused you to whimper out of pure love, no longer lust. Of course though, that didn’t last long. For what you saw next, shook you to your core.

Standing in between your legs was Logan fucking Howlett. The Wolverine. No longer did he wear his TVA jacket he was given earlier this year, but instead stood shirtless over you. The sweat on his body caused his chiseled physique to glisten in your room, his natural musk making your hornier by the second. His pants you had seen earlier of the same color scheme you are wearing, brushing wonderfully against your baren thighs. The reinforced nylon feeling like silk across your skin. Panning your eyes up to his hands, slowly Logan started to release his claws, inch by inch. A pained expression crossed across his mouth at the extension, but he fucking loved it. Why can I only see half of his face? As your eyes made their way upwards, no longer could you see his darkened eyes, instead replaced with something that shouldn’t have been considered hot. Across his eyes, around the top of his head was The Wolverine cowl, complete with, as Wade called them, blowjob handles. The animal himself, standing right between your legs.

You sunk back slowly on your elbows, stretching your legs open wider to fit all of him. Biting your lip, you looked up at Logan between your lashes, panting like a bitch in heat as you take him all in. “You want to see the real power yellow and blue really holds?” He growled, lightly tracing the dull edge of his claws against your sides. Yes, you do. Needless to say, this was the start of you wearing his colors, especially if this would happen every time.

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones

[saikenakoego]

What the heck, I'll also answer these with Sammy because I've been feeling edgy as hell lately.

Last one with this gal, for real this time. The unwilling vampire-turned-vampire hunter, Sammy

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

1. Excluding murder, what's the worst thing you've done?

SM: Considering the idea of giving in to the thirst at all.

2. Have you ever killed someone?

SM: Not someone, something. They're not people.

3. Have you ever killed a friend/family member/loved one?

SM: No. This question makes me incredibly angry.

4. What appears in your darkest nightmares?

SM: Blood that isn't my own.

5. What is your moral code?

SM: Protect the natural, kill the unnatural. Simple as.

6. Would you make a deal with the devil?

SM: Not even if it offered me salvation. I've killed demons. I know how that goes.

7. How far are you willing to go to get what you want?

SM: Far enough.

8. Would you consider yourself as evil?

SM: By virtue of my condition, yes.

9. Do you enjoy watching others suffer?

SM: I can't feel joy. But watching them squirm like the parasites they are as I send them straight to hell is... cathartic.

10. Have you ever tortured someone?

SM: Something. More than once. And I'll do it again. Until I inflict as much pain on them as they did to me.

11. If you were arrested, what would the charges be?

SM: Theft. Don't ask.

12. Who do you hate the most?

SM: ...Myself.

13. What is your "villain song"?

OOC: She doesn't really have one, but I tend to listen to Devils Never Cry when I draw her. Maybe Bring Me To Life by Evanescence? That's a certified Edge™️ classic.

14. If you draw: Draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine them as a demon!

OOC:

Not really her darkest moment, but,

'Sammy looked ahead at the man who had once been her token of admiration.

A man of good, of kindness and sincerity. Who had once guided them into the right path.

Who'd once walked into her home not as a friend, nor as a figure of authority, but as family.

An equal. To her father, a brother. And to her mother, a cousin.

He stood there quietly, illuminated by the bright moonlight coming through the church's windows as he calmly straightened the creases of his vestment.

Staring coldly at the beaten and bloodied body of an unconscious Silver.

It had happened so quickly, she didn't even have time to react.

Before she knew it, she'd been slammed into the ground with enough force to shatter her spine.

It only took one or two seconds after that for her friend to follow suit and be reduced to a wheezing mess.

And she was powerless to do anything about it. As it always was. Forced to listen to the shrieks of pain of another victim while her wakened body tried its best to repair itself with what little blood she had left in her.

It angered her.

But what angered her the most was the unfeeling expression that bloodsucking bastard had all throughout.

It angered her so, so much.

"Now," the man finally spoke, wiping his bloodied hands with a pure white cloth "We can finally talk."

To hell with that, she thought.

"How peculiar" he continued "Those eyes of yours. They rage with the embers of hatred. Is it me that you despise?"

The man walked forward, into the shadows where she lay, matching her piercing stare with his own.

"I wonder why?" He calmly mused.

And then he placed a foot on her left arm. Pushing slowly, steadily, watching the skin tear apart and the bone splinter with a grotesque sound.

Of course, she didn't feel any of it. They both knew she couldn't. And to her, that was the worst punishment he could've given her.

"You were always quite fiery. The way you'd listen to the sermons, pay attention in Sunday school. That passion had always set you aside. And yet, it has also led you astray."

Then he did the same with her right arm, making sure to drag his sole on her mutilated limb with apathy.

"Holding to the remnants of your past. Hoping that they will keep you warm" he said, dropping the stained cloth on her pooling blood "I just can't understand why."

That got a grunt out of her.

"Why would the Father choose someone like you? Who so fervently seeks to reject his gift? His ideals? His goals?" He said while running a finger on his rosary "Someone so... immature--"

"Shut the fuck up already" she spat, voice coarse and breathy.

The man simply sighed in response.

"Of course. You're still young. I often forget that" he lamented quietly "Children learn by imitation, not comprehension."

Then he signaled back to Silver's unconscious form.

"That boy over there. You both act really similarly. Perhaps he was the one to influence you in this way?"

"Lay another finger on him..." she barked coldly, yet it did nothing to deter the pastor.

"And what?" He scoffed. Even though he couldn't express emotion, he sounded almost indignant "You are at the edge of your mortality, just like him. It would do you no good to continue your empty intimidations. After all..."

He turned around, giving her an uncaring glance as he walked back towards the boy.

"...You don't actually care what happens to him anyway, do you?"

"Go to hell."

The man knelt besides her sleeping companion, seemingly unfazed by the myriad of insults and threats that she continued to throw at him.

"You can stop pretending now" he stated matter-of-factly.

But that only fueled her anger further.

"You don't know fuck about me. Don't try to act like--"

"All of this... attitude. This rebellious phase." He interrupted her "Playing pretend with these... animals. Like they're not food to be consumed. Like you have the strength to make things right. Clinging on to something that you're not anymore. Of a world that isn't there, and a me that never was. Raging senselessly, when you care more about the fact that I'm alive and not that he's dying. Stop pretending, Samantha."

She bared her teeth at him. Bloodied gums and sharpened fangs gleamed under the dim light, being reflected into his unchanging pupils. Defiant, yet slightly wavering.

He sighed.

"I have now come to terms with the fact that I can't make you understand. It is simply not my place to do as a father should" he said, standing up with that same unapologetic attitude that crept into her very nerves "But it is in my hands to set an example."

"If you fucking dare--"

"Relax" the man ordered, sending a shockwave through her core with his voice "That would be counter-productive. This child... is still yet useful. Both of them are."

Her mind wandered back to Johnny, and her eye twitched slightly at the realization that she'd completely forgotten about him in her rampage.

Wherever he'd run off to, hopefully he had managed to escape. The kid was smart enough to know when to turn tail and run.

How ironic, that the same thing she'd criticized him for was the culmination of both his salvation and her damnation.

Now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about that, though. With any luck, the pastor would be oblivious to her thoughts on the matter.

"But this... thing you three do, playing with toys while thinking you're some sort of heroes" he interjected, calmly walking back to her for the last time "It must be put an end to. For your own good."

"Fuck you, pendejo de mierda."

"I no longer expect you to understand, as I said. It is not my duty to act as a father would" he said with a sigh, kneeling before her "But as the elder sibling, I must set a good example."

She was about to tell him to go fuck himself with that family bullshit, when a metallic object suddenly came in contact with the roof of her mouth.

The hammer of Silver's .50 caliber revolver clicked into place with a small sound as the pastor once again got to speak in her place.

"As such, please watch and learn as I provide the appropriate punishment for such behavior, in place of the Father."

The last thing she could do was throw him one final spiteful glance before his finger came in contact with the trigger.

Bang! The sound of the first bullet reverberated in her mouth.

Bang! The second one pulsated deeply within her veins.

Bang! The third echoed through her lungs.

Bang! The fourth rippled through her milky eyeballs.

Bang! The fifth rang far into the distance.

By the time she came to, what remained was only but the shattered pieces of the one person that she'd been desperately clinging to.'

OOC: But it's okay. She'll heal it off.

Dark OC Asks

Excluding murder, what is the worst thing your OC has ever done?

Has your OC ever killed someone?

Has your OC killed a friend/family member/loved one?

What appears in your OC's darkest nightmares?

What is your OC's moral code?

Would your OC make a deal with the devil?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

Would your OC consider themself evil?

Would you consider your OC evil?

Does your OC enjoy watching others suffer?

Has your OC ever tortured someone?

If your OC was arrested, what would the charges be?

Who does your OC hate the most?

What is your OC's "villain song"?

If you draw: draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine your OC as a demon. If you don't draw: find a picrew or write a description instead!

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Okay so I'm from the Newsies fandom which means I know how to make character backstories out of literally nothing and I'm done with my "This makes no sense what were the writers thinking?" stage of grief after the BuckTommy breakup and it's time to go to work and start asking "What could have happened to make this make sense?".

Because regardless of what you think about Tommy, it's very clear that the writers have characterized him (in the current stage of his life) as someone who has put in a lot of work to become a better person, is a very steady figure, and feels very confident in himself and his identity. We've also been told and shown that he and Buck care for each other a lot and neither of them wanted this relationship to end. So the question is, what happened in Tommy's past that could have caused this very confident, mature person to realize he's falling in love with his partner and then choose to leave?

"I'm your first, not your last."

How many times has Tommy been someone's first? How many times has he shown another man this new side of himself, taught them what it means to be queer and how to love yourself for it, and been left behind once they figured themselves out? How many times has he been someone's first and had a whirlwind romance, only to be left brokenhearted because his partners had a whole new world opened up to them only to realize they didn't want Tommy to be a part of that world?

Does Tommy think of himself as the guy people have fun with, not the guy they want to marry? Does Tommy think there's something wrong with him, that there's a reason no one ever sees a future with him? Do you think he's always told himself that he would keep trying, that it's worth the potential heartbreak to find out if this next guy might be the one who stays?

Did the way Buck was talking about their relationship being transformative for him just sound too familiar? Did he think Buck liked him because he was showing him something new, not because he could ever actually love someone like Tommy? Do you think he could never imagine Buck liking him anywhere near as much as Tommy liked him?

Do you think he realized he was falling in love with Buck, and the idea of losing him like all the others was just too much? Do you think he knew the potential heartbreak of someone as incredible as Buck deciding he didn't want Tommy in his future wasn't worth it this time? Do you think he was afraid of falling in love with Buck, of falling so deeply in love that he wouldn't be able to recover when Buck left him like all the others? Do you think he decided it was better to break things off with Buck before he could finish falling in love with him?

Do you think they could come back from this? That maybe, just maybe, if Tommy told Buck about all of his fears that he could convince Tommy that it is worth it to find out if they could make it?

"I'm not the guy people decide to spend their life with. They- you'll finish figuring yourself out and realize you don't want a future with me. And that's okay, I just... I don't want to let myself finish falling in love with you first because I won't survive losing you after that."

"Do you think that little of me? That I'm just using you for my own personal gain and that I'll leave you in the dust as soon as I get what I want?"

"I... No. No, I don't think you would do that."

"Then give us a chance. Let me show you that this is more than just an awakening for me. Let me prove that I want to finish falling in love with you too."

Because I think that's what Tommy's afraid of. He's a person who's spent a lot of time self-reflecting and he knows himself so well, especially his faults. I think he’s afraid of Buck seeing all of those faults and realizing he doesn’t love Tommy as much as he thought he did. Loving someone means you see every part of them and want to be with them anyways.

I think Tommy is terrified of falling in love with someone because he can't imagine anyone loving him back.

[xlatrina]

(Pt. III) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!). 

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Crawling

This man is in love with you.

Lowkey could stop right there.

Well, anyway…

Mr. Crawling is a GREAT friend, actually.

Like he’s the kind of buddy that’s —first of all —down for whatever.

You said you tryna go walk through an unfamiliar part of the Apartments to try and find a mysterious elevator?

Well…

YEAH SURE HE’LL TAG ALONG

I MEAN… WHY THE HELL NOT, Y’KNOW??

“Me know place here,” He’ll say. More or less: I know this place!

And he’s so damn chipper about it, too!

He’s just an overall helpful guy.

He seems to have an intrinsic protective streak in him, too.

Which is interesting, ‘cause it’s like…

While it’s obvious he’s been in the Apartments for a long time, it’s clear that he hasn’t completely lost his sense of humanity.

I mean, trust —it’s definitely worn in some ways.

Like, he eats people bruh.

Trust, his sense of humanity is def gone in some ways...

But!! At least he's not as violent as the other ghosts can be!!

Like, generally speaking, you’ll find that he’s a pretty admirable dude.

He doesn’t hurt other entities for the pure sake of hurting them.

Defense, and alternatively —for food or other resources like clothes or tools.

Those would probably be the only reasons Mr. Crawling would ever just… attack someone, especially unprovoked (unprovoked, but not necessarily without reason).

That being said, he’s a social butterfly!!

He’s literally a professional yapper in every sense of the word.

Like… he could start a podcast LMAO

Podcast Bro!Mr. Crawling…

Anywho, he’s genuinely a people person and he likes being in good company.

Whether it’s you, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Stitch(?), the Nurse, Mr. Wheelchair, the Hairdresser, etc…

He’s genuinely the type who could talk to literally anyone about anything for any amount of time.

If you’re a yapper too, this’ll probably be fun for you!

And hell, you may very well have met your match, LOL.

If you’re more introverted or quiet —no matter.

Mr. Crawling, being the professional he is, knows how to fill up any awkward silences with banter.

He doesn’t judge you at all on the basis of how you react to his yapping. Truly.

At the end of the day, he just enjoys sharing your company and getting to hear your voice, as little or as often as that occurs.

Hopefully, you don’t find his constant need for company annoying.

… Do you find him annoying?

At some point, Mr. Crawling begins to realize his feelings for you have changed…

In the case you accept him as a partner, he’s absolutely OVERJOYED.

Not only have you promised to indefinitely keep his company, but you also accepted him as your better half!

“You enjoy me?” He’ll ask, pulling himself over your curled-up form beneath the thin white sheets of the hospital bed.

“Me enjoy you,” you’ll say. You might even pet his head a few times, and he’ll giggle maniacally before dropping his head into your neck.

As Mr. Crawling’s fondness for you intensifies, so does his protective streak.

This guy turns into Papa Bear when it comes down to protecting his better half.

What Megan thee Stallion said??

“Three things I don’t play about: myself, my money, or my man!”

That, but more like: “... my friends, or my partner!”

Something like that, LOL.

Mr. Crawling’s sweethearted, bubbly, outgoing, protective, and quite affectionate. Intimacy is a language he speaks as fluently as his otherworldly one.

As we know, he’s very much the “high-maintenance” type.

He’s just super affectionate overall —and Mr. Crawling just wants to know that you’re always on the same page!

Tell him you love him. 

Tell him how fun it was exploring the same old dreary halls with him. Tell him how relieved you felt when he swooped in to shield you from danger, even though you could handle yourself just fine. Run your fingers through his hair and massage the nape of his neck as you tell him how much you’ve come to enjoy —and maybe even crave —his company.

And when you’re done…

Tell him you love him. Yes, again. Again and again and again and again and again…

He could never get enough. Truly.

He could never get enough of you.

With a boyfriend like Mr. Crawling, you’ll never have to fear a lack of comfort, protection, friendship, or intimacy…

Because he’s constantly giving it to you. 

You don’t even need to ask for any kind of intimacy —again, he’s giving it to you anyway.

And whether you’d like to shack up in a nearby spare room beside Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped’s loungeroom (of the sort) or if you take him with you to the surface world…

It makes no real difference in the way Mr. Crawling clings to you.

All he knows is so long as you’re both finding yourselves tangled together beneath the sheets each night, all is right in the world!

Mr. Crawling just wants to spend his evenings at home, and if home is where the heart is, then…

Well, you know how that goes!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

[sunny-knight]

Oh right. The other one.

CW: Undertale rant/analysis

Ive played Undertale- hundreds of times. and lately ive reflected on how the game is supposed to make you feel IN THE MOMENT- since ive kinda forgotten a lot of that. Because of the aforementioned ✨“hundreds of times”✨

Everything ofc still feels just as captivating, but nothings surprising because im not playing it from the perspective of someone who has absolutely no idea whats going to happen next. Sometimes I overlook and forget how the little details are supposed to make you feel/think about the characters. Like how Undyne is implied to be an abusive boss. After you get to know her, then replay, you hear how Papyrus talks about her at first, and see their interaction as you enter Waterfall, and you completely understand!

But BEFORE- youre like “oooohhh she’s threatening him-“

On this topic, I rewatched some playthroughs, and saw their first reactions to geno papyrus death, and I realized. that this room placement. IS SO COOL!!!!

Normally its like- yep! I just befriended/beat papyrus, time to continue on my way- oo hi sans! sure, ill go to Grillbys with you! Even on replays, you’re not really excepting him in any room hes in, im just like “oh yep, theres the man.”

But when you kill Papyrus for the first time, usually on a geno route. That same thing kicks in. You’re not predicting him to be there cause youre focused on the room youre in currently, but when you GET THERE youre like “oh yeah and thats where Sans is” but he’s NOT THERE and you stop for a millisecond and go “oh, no yeah, that makes sense.”

…the silence doesn’t help either.

Its worse that he’s all over the underground too, not just in the start of Waterfall. Even not seeing him in front of the mtt resort is just a slap in the face 😭

If youve gotten to the phase of killing people on purpose to see what will happen, youve also gotten to the phase of KNOWING theres gonna be consequences, so Sans not being there shoudnt hit as hard as it does BUT IT DOES (at least for me)

The typical reactions to Monster death in general that you cant avoid are Undyne and Sans’ speeches, and neutral run phonecalls. DIALOGUE. things that appear because of what you did. But with Sans its not what he does or says (up until the judgment hall) its what he doesn’t do.

He doesn’t bother to show up, to say anything to you because what is there to say??? Ignoring how personal it is for a sec- Sans knows this isnt your first time playing, but doesn’t comment on it (much). Right now he still believes the anomaly just wants to be happy, so gives the benefit of the doubt.

That is until you kill the dude that is impossible to kill on accident, or argue in self defense.

Now Sans knows the anomaly just wants to know what will happen. Doesn’t care if its bad or not, they’re just curious, so theres no point.

STILL he wants them to reset and do something ELSE so he halfway pleads with them in the judgment hall to rethink what they’ve done. The fact that he asks an answerable question feels important to me, like hes searching for something, ANY reason. But maybe hes trying to make you see that- there was no reason. Youre DUMB and you should RESET because- WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS????

What I also find really powerful even on replays, is the silence after he drops lines like this. Especially the judgment hall question. Sometimes I do sit there and soak in the silence like- “jesus. Yeah, why DID i do that?”

My main point of this entire thing is, I LOVE this game, I LOVE Papyrus and his impact on the game even when he isnt there, and I wish I could play it for the first time again, and fall in love with it all over again, but alas, hitting myself with a rock to screw up my memory only works 17% of the time,

so im happy enough sticking with changing my perspective, and taking a moment to remember what it felt like to accidentally kill toriel and realize your actions have consequences, to beat Undyne the Undying, to hug Asriel, to hear that Undertale was getting a “sequel”, and to hear that dreaded line, “Then why did you kill my brother.” all for the first time again.

[theseeingfawn]

Chapter 9: The Hills Have Eyes Part 1

Summary:

Here is a short little smutty tease chapter for you lovely readers.   “Live dangerously and you live right” Goethe

Azriel

I have never wanted to kill someone more. Closing my eyes l force myself to calm down and take a deep breath. My heart rate slows, time suddenly shifting as if I have minutes instead of seconds to think this through. Realistically it's just the adrenaline sharpening my senses. I've always been at my best during a crisis. With Elain Archeron panting underneath me, and my ill tempered brother pounding on the door, this certainly qualifies as one.

There are so many ways this can go wrong but the only thing that matters is protecting Elain. 

I look down and see panic flash in those soft brown eyes. A sick demented part of me is turned on by the spark of fear I see there. I pang of need shoots through.  I;m intrigued to know how buttoned up, perfect sweet Elain would react when caught red handed. 

I stay exactly where I am, opting to relish the fleeting feeling of the press of my body into hers. She's soft and supple beneath me. I know I should move but I just don’t want to. No reasonable man would. 

Rhys’ impatient fist pounds into the door again, “Damnit, Azriel I know you’re in there.”

I fight back a smirk, something about pissing him off pleases me. Maybe it’s some psychological need to get back at his father through him. Maybe I just like being one of the only people who isn't afraid to piss him off. I can’t really be sure.  

I turn back to Elain, “Listen to me, you are going to go out my window and sneak into the sunroom. Got it?” She nods frantically, all the while my hand is still pressed firmly against her mouth. “Good girl.” I whisper and kiss her forehead just because I can. “I’ll take care of Rhys.”

I reluctantly drag myself off Elain and pull her to her feet. I take her soft hand and lead her to the window. I help her out, advising on the best way to descend the drain pipe. But to my surprise she is as sure footed as she is nimble making her way down. She’s just full of surprises.

Turning back to the door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I hardly recognize the man I see there. He looks softer, almost happy. His pants are also fully tented, yeah that's a problem. I close my eyes, picturing the time I caught Cass experimenting with at home waxing which fixes that problem. As it always does and always will. I suppress a shudder.  The pounding at my door resumes and I resign myself to tackling the other problem.

I open the door calmly as if I hadn’t heard Rhys this whole time. He barrels through the door, his eyes searching for someone who is clearly not here. “Where is she?” he demands. I fight back a smirk, “Who?”

I watch as he slowly turns to face me, a look of pure rage that would rival my own as he says, “You. Know. Who.” Each one word syllable punctuated with malice. I furrow my brow in feigned confusion, “I honestly don’t know what you are on about.”

He huffs at me and bites out, “ Elain .”  

“Why would she be in here?” I ask innocently. 

“That’s an interesting question, why don’t you give me some ideas?” He retorts. 

“Because you are imagining things?” I say growing bored of this situation. 

“I know you had her in here. I know the two of you have been sneaking around. The others may buy that you both happen to have secret lovers that coincidentally are not each other, but I don’t.”

I refuse to respond, I just patiently wait for him to keep talking. The quiet unsettles him as he waits for a rebuttal that doesn’t come. 

He sighs, “Damnit Azriel, where is she?”

“I presume she is downstairs, where you last saw her.” He closes his eyes in annoyance. 

“You are to stay away from her, Azriel.” I tense at his order. 

“You can’t tell me to do that.” I snap back at him. 

“I just did and if you were smart you would want to stay away.” He rubs his brow, “Your job is dangerous.”

“You think I would put her in danger?” I ask, unable to help myself. 

“It's the very nature of what you do. You can’t even be honest with her about what you really are. You can’t reveal you're actually a Fed and maintain your cover with the criminal underground.” 

I bristle at his words, “I’ve told you. I don’t hide it from Cass or Mor.” I add feeling the cold bitterness of reality hitting me. 

He gives me a bewildered look, “The three of us have ties to your past, ties to some element of organized crime. But Elain has no connections. You will always have to hide her from what you do and what you do from her. She will ask questions you can’t answer and what happens if the Attors find out about her?”

“I’ll kill them,” I state without hesitation. 

“I know,”  he says sympathetically . “And you doing so will destroy everything you’ve worked for. It will jeopardize your relationship with the FBI and compromise your assets in the field.”

I shake my head, not wanting to hear what he’s saying. Not wanting to hear the truth. 

“So, you’ll stay away from her,” his tone final. I turn to walk out of the room when he adds, “because you were right to worry about Kier.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at my brother who collapses to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“What do you mean?” 

He lets out a long breath more rattled than I’ve ever seen him, “I looked closer at his books after our little chat and noticed a few discrepancies. At first I thought it was an accidental transfer to an old account but I started to notice a pattern. Every three weeks he deposits $25,000 in an offshore account.”

I nod. “The account is tied to an old LLC that my father used to own so I didn’t think much of it until a new transfer came in right at three weeks. I did some digging and found an old ledger with Hybern’s name on it.”

I freeze, sensing where this is going. “Kier has been working with Hybern? With the Attors?” 

He nods, “I think so.”

“Send me what you have and I'll do some intel.” I turn to walk away again. 

Before I can leave he adds, “You will stay away from her or I'll make you regret it.”

I freeze in the doorway. I know if I turn around my face will reveal everything I have tried so hard to conceal. He can't know what she means to me. If he did he would be even more alarmed. 

“I'll go to Devlon and tell him about your other activities… the ones you hide from the FBI.” The pang of betrayal hits me deep in the chest. My own brother no less. “If you need to fuck someone, find a biker chick at Amarantha’s or one of your underground hole in the walls. You aren't… ”

Before he can finish the sentence I'm barreling down the stairs and out the front door of the townhouse. I don’t stop to see if Elain made it back to the group. I can’t bear the thought of seeing her right now. 

I walk for what feels like hours before I'm level headed enough to go back to the townhouse. By the time I return everyone is gone. I take a look at the information Rhy left for me, deciding to focus on work as a distraction. 

From the looks of it, Rhys is right. Kier has been working with Hybern. So, I call Devlon to inform him. We come up with a way to fold Kier into the gun smuggling scheme and continue on with our plan. 

By the time the sunsets my mind goes back to Elain. I didn't even get the chance to tell her a proper goodbye. The thought of cutting all contact with no explanation after nearly fucking her in my room doesnt sit right. She deserves better than that. She deserves so much more than I can give her. If Rhys was right about anything, it was that. 

She deserves to hear from me that our little arrangement is over face to face. Even if I'm not allowed to be with her I will still have to be around her and I don't want to make it any harder on her than it needs to be. I resign myself to the conversation I have to have with her. 

I slip into the night and walk the few short blocks it takes to get to Petals. The walk gives me some time to mull over my words so that I can make this as painless as possible. I'm confident she’ll be able to move on. But, if I've learned anything from my years of pining for Mor, it's that once I’ve formed an attachment there is no going back. This is it for me. 

The shop is dark and closed up for the night. The faint smell of baked bread lingers around the front providing a modicum of comfort. I walk around the back and see the faint glow from her second story apartment window. The one I've gotten far too used to sneaking in to. A pang of nostalgia hits me as I realize this will be the last time. 

I pull myself up the lattice and push on the window. It opens easily and I'm able to slip in. The first thing I notice is the smell of sugar and lemons, a freshly baked pie sits on the counter cooling. I look around searching for Elain expecting her to be nearby given the state of the pie but her place is quiet. I call out to her softly, “Elain are you here? We need to talk.”

I hear nothing but the gentle sounds of the end of summer. The hymn of grasshoppers and frogs from the garden below. I debate whether or not she could have slipped out. I wrack my brain trying to think of where she could be. It’s not the right day for the knitting circle and her girls nights are typically here. Maybe she is at the store or with Lucien working on town council bullshit. I sigh, turning back toward the window ready to leave. 

But then I hear her, gently calling my name. “Yes,” I reply as I make my way to the back of her apartment to the only bedroom. Her door is cracked and buttery light spills out on the floor, “Listen, I just -”

My words die on my tongue as my jaw falls open, my eyes taking in the most beautiful sight I've ever witnessed.

A gentle vibration fills the air, and it seems to be coming from the pink object that Elain holds between her lush unblemished thighs spread wide and pressed against her bed. 

And Elain? Is completely naked, her gently curved body is on full display as she writhes from pleasure. Her head is thrown back as she moans desperately. 

“Azriel” she whimpers my name once more. A wave of arousal shoots straight to my cock. The feeling so intense I stumble forward slightly. 

“Holy gods,” I whisper in disbelief. 

Elain's head rolls to the side, eyes hooded, weighed down with lust as she looks around before her gaze finds mine. If she moans my name again I will die on the spot.

But she doesn't, a moment passes and then she screams in horror. That look of panic in her eyes comes back full force and I groan. Her fear only turns me on more. My dick is so hard I feel a bit lightheaded. I let out an uneasy breath because whatever I had planned for tonight is out the window. This, this is so much better. I smirk knowing I think best on my feet. 

Elain

I am frozen to the spot, unable to move. Horrified beyond what I thought possible. Azriel caught me masturbating with a sex toy. My chest is heaving trying to suck in air as my brain reels. Why is he just standing there and oh gods why is he smiling like that? 

“What are you doing here?” I practically shriek knowing full well my voice is two octaves higher than normal. “You can't just sneak into my window like that Azriel! Are you insane?”

His smirk disappears at the sound of my yelling.

I pull the pink sheet snuggly around my body. The vibrator shaking violently in my hand branding me like the harlot I am. I toss it to the side in mortification hoping I can somehow will it to vanish. 

To my horror, it only vibrates louder against the hardwood floor drawing Azriel's full attention to it. His eyes locked on it like it holds the secrets to the universe. 

I clammer off the bed, stepping forward as I snap my fingers in his face. Trying to get him to pay attention to anything else. I can’t watch him gawk at my sex toy any longer. 

I'm going to kill Nuala.

His head turns slowly back to me. “Out! Get out of here! You shouldn't be here... You shouldn’t have kissed me!” I shout at him trying to blame anyone but myself for this situation. 

“You kissed me!” He shouts back at me. His face flush. An uncharacteristic display of emotion form his usually stoic demeanor. He wasn’t expecting me to yell. 

“Impossible!” I say indignantly. How dare he come into my home and accuse me of kissing him. That doesn't sound like something I would do which is exactly what I tell him.

He grits his teeth, “Stop yelling at me.” His flushed cheeks start to fade as his cool mask falls back into place which only makes me more upset. How dare he be calm at a time like this. 

“You saw my vagina!” I screech as the panic escalates. 

“I saw a whole lot more than that sweetheart.” My cheeks burn my palms as I bury my face in my hands, ready to die of embarrassment. 

“Look,” he says in that stupidly calm tone, “I just came here to apologize for earlier when I took certain liberties with you in my room. I got carried away.” 

“Apology accepted,” I say as I grab his impossibly large bicep and try to shove him back toward the window. 

“Okay, but just don't be embarrassed. This is all my fault anyway,” he says guiltily. I nod because this is all his fault.

“Great,” I say as he turns toward the window. I pull the sheet tighter around me, thighs rubbing together spreading my arousal. 

“Wait,” he whispers as he turns around. My heart pounds against my chest as his eyes meet mine. A flash of something dangerous dances amongst the hazel as he takes a step toward me. Then another. My stomach hollows out and I feel my legs start to tremble. “You said my name.”

I gasp, “I did not.” I most assuredly did. Several times. 

“You did.” 

I shake my head, “did not.” Suddenly I feel childish and small in front of his intimidating confidence. 

“ Azriel,” he drags his name out on a moan. A devious smile pulls on those plush lips of his and I slink backward. 

He looks like he is about to devour me whole and I don't think I would put up a fight. I step around the edge of the bed trying to escape in vain.

“You are supposed to be the mature one.” I say defensively. That makes him smile wider. I trip over the edge of my floral comforter and he grabs onto my sheet and pulls me upright. 

His gaze falls back to the pink vibrator that's finally stopped buzzing on the floor. It no doubt lost all of its charge from vigorous use. “Do you need someone to do that for you?” He asks.

“I can do it fine on my own, thanks.” I say with all the grace I can muster at a time like this. 

“Are you sure about that angel Elain. ” He mocks.

How dare he use that nickname. “I kissed you, didn't I?” I say defensively. 

His smile grows wider, “So you admit it? You did kiss me.”

“I,” I wring my hand at my side. “I admit to nothing.”

“That's too bad,” his chin dips down as his eyes take me in. His tongue sweeps tauntingly over his bottom lip. “Do you remember telling me you want to be bad?”

His grip on the sheet tightens as he pushes me backward. “I'm thinking you heard me come through that window,” he smiles down at me smugly pushing me back a little further. “I think you knew I would come.”

He leans in closer, his hot breath caressing my already overheated skin, “You wanted to be caught.” He tuts and presses me firmly into the wall, “You said my name to lure me in here so I would see this perfect fucking body, didn’t you?” He asks, arrogant as ever. 

Before I get the chance to reply, he continues on, “You wanted it before you told yourself you should fight this feeling. You've been a good, proper girl but you don't want to be her anymore, do you?” 

I shudder because he’s right. I assumed he would seek me out. I had waited for hours for him to come. I even baked a pie to try and distract myself. But, I couldn’t wait. The longer it took the more I got worked up. I couldn’t stop thinking about how delicious it was to have him pressed between my thighs. How positively fiendish I felt when he covered my mouth with his rough hand. Even now the thought of him doing it again has me pressing my thighs together. So, yes I may have decided to take care of things myself. I wasn’t sure he would sneak in but I had hoped he would.

His grin is absolutely devious when he adds, “I want to see who you are when you drop the act and let that wickedness out.”

I’m going to ruin you, is what he said in his bedroom, when he pinned me down on the bed. No one has ever done that to me. Other men, Graysen even, treated me like I was made of glass. But not Azriel. I had touched a nerve. He didn’t like that I called him out and challenged him. That I saw him. I didn’t censor myself, I let that truth out and oh how I was rewarded. 

Something inside me snaps, I feel practically feral as I tear the sheet from his fist and throw it to the ground, barring myself to him.

“You want me to help you?”

“Azriel.” I whimper, trembling with need, his rough fingers ghost over mine.

“Yeah,” he groans, “Just like that. That’s exactly how you sounded when you moaned my name.” He runs his palm against my cheek savoring the feel of it. 

I bite my lip and lean my head back before closing my eyes. Waiting for him to devour me. But he doesn’t.

Instead I feel the cold air hit my sensitive nipples as he steps away. The swaggering smile is nothing short of pleased as he watches me. 

“I’d hate to misread this situation, though. So, if I’m right, if you want my help...” He rubs his hand across his sharp jaw. “You’ll have to ask nicely.”

A rough sound escapes my throat in protest, and before I can tell myself no to something I want for the millionth time in my life, I launch myself at him. 

I throw myself at his chest and bury my fingers in his hair. He catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist. “Please,” I beg, “please help me.”

He growls and throws me on the bed. Prowling on top of me like the predator he is. 

His eyes take me in, all of me and I feel my arousal pool in my lower belly. 

He curses under his breath as he traces my lips with his finger. “Open.” He commands and I do, eager to please him.

His textured skin glides across my smooth tongue and I moan. He eases his finger back out and I grab on with my teeth, sucking him in deeper. “Fuck,” he growls. I smirk around his finger and tease it with my tongue. He watches, eyes clouded with lust and awe. 

“Are you going to let me take care of you tonight? Because if you keep doing that I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll take what I need.” 

I release his finger, “Yes.” I want him to take what he needs.

He groans desperately, “Fuck, Elain.” 

I quirk an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head in disbelief, “You are going to be the death of me.” I try to stifle my giggle by biting my lower lip and he growls.

He leans down and pulls my lip free as he sucks into his mouth. His tongue sweeps inside, exploring, tasting, taking. The way he kisses is nothing short of possessive, pure hunger as he worships my mouth. He can have it, and any other part of me he wants. I’ve never needed anything or anyone more than I need him. 

“Tell me what you want Elain,” he pants into my mouth. 

“Touch me,” I beg, shaking with desperation. “Please Azriel I… I…”

He slides his hand down my neck and squeezes lightly, “here?” He teases.

Oh gods . I shudder under his touch. His eyes flit back up to mine and it’s obvious he didn’t expect me to like that . He curses again.

He smiles, his free hand moving down to my belly button, “here?” he asks innocently as he swirls his finger along the edge. Goosebumps spread like wildfire down across my needy skin. 

“Please.” I whimper again so so desperately.

His finger skates down in a feather-like tease to my center,  “Here?”

I moan at the slightest friction. “So. Fucking. Wet.”

He releases my neck, tracing my form with his hand as he glides it down my body. He kneels between my legs, grabbing my thighs as he lifts my legs. Taking my ankles into his large hands and props both of my feet on the bed, spreading me wide. 

“Gods Elain, you are just so beautiful,” he says eyes roaming over every inch of me before the land on my bare sex. “Are you going to let me fuck this pussy one day?”

I feel my core clench at his words and a fresh wave of arousal drips down my folds. A low guttural sound catches in his throat at the sight. 

“Even this pussy is begging so sweetly.”

I can’t help it, my legs start to shake, “Yes,” I gasp as I clench around nothing.

His right hand releases my ankle as he runs his finger tips up the sensitive skin of my leg. I quiver with anticipation, nearly crawling out of my skin. 

“Look at you, so needy for me.” Gods, his confidence would be infuriating if it weren’t so damn sexy. If he wasn’t right. 

His hand finally moves to my inner thigh and presses it down firmly. His thumb grazes close to the edge of my arousal. He takes his time before he finally slides his finger along my clit. My back arching off the bed as I moan loudly. 

He does it again, with more pressure and my knees come together as I shudder. He slaps my clit and I cry out from the sudden pleasure of it. “None of that,” he chides, “I want to see you.” I force my shaking legs apart as he strokes me over and over where I need him most. My legs threaten to close again and he forces my right thigh down. 

I’m desperate for more, I want him on top of me, inside me. I need him everywhere and the teasing is driving me insane. “Please,” I beg, not caring how desperate I sound.

His hooded eyes find mine and he shakes his head no. “I’m not done yet.”  

He leans forward and takes my pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks hard. I cry out, my head pressing back into the mattress as I shove my needy pussy into his hand. He slaps it again and I begin to shake all over. 

“So. Responsive,” he coos as he takes my nipple between his teeth. “Is this why you’re always blushing, sweet girl? You’re always this worked up for me?”

“Yes,” I cry as he skillfully tortures out each little moan from me as he works my breasts and clit at the same time. 

He hums appreciatively, “Not so innocent then? Just a little slut underneath, hmm?”

I gasp at his crudeness at his… at his… oh gods I’m ready to cum. His words send me over the edge. 

But he abruptly pulls back his hand and I groan in frustration. I sit up on my elbows to get a better look at him. Our eyes lock as he brings his hand back between my legs. He notches a finger at my entrance.

“Show me Elain, show me just how bad you are.” I feel the slightest pressure of his finger entering me and I lose it. I grind myself fully down on his finger as if possessed. I rock my hips up and down riding him as I take what I need. 

“God that’s sexy,” he praises me. I feel my pleasure build but it’s not enough. “More,” I demand and he adds another finger. His thick fingers fill me deliciously, adding just the right amount of pressure, like he was made for me. 

My breasts bounce from the force of my movement. His eyes locked on them as he leans forward, licking and sucking at me with desperation. A pang of pleasure shutters through me and I realize I’m so close again. 

My moans coming out as chants as he continues to lavish me with praise. He tells me how wicked I am. How much he loves watching me fuck myself on his hand. That he can’t believe he gets to suck on these perfect tits. I’m so close I cry out his name as he presses his thumb into my clit and I shatter. 

He watches enraptured before he kisses me and I wrap my arms around him and draw him closer. We kiss until the aftershocks of my orgasam pass. Until my lips are swollen from his  gentle nips and teasing licks.

He tenderly pulls the wayward tendrils of hair from my face and buries his face into my neck and inhales deeply. 

Azriel

I’m buried in Elain’s neck and everything is so Godsdamned perfect. Her scent is so intoxicating that I feel half drugged. The sound of her screaming for me is still ringing in my ears like church bells. Her delicate fingers tease the ends of my hair making me tingle all over. For the first time in my life my head is completely quiet.

“Azriel?” I hear her angelic voice calling to me.

I muffled “Hmm?” comes out as I press my face further into her neck. Her soft hair tickles my nose but I don’t care. 

“Don’t you…” I hear her sigh, I force myself away from my favorite part of her.

“Don’t I?” I ask, confused. Her rosy cheeks tell me she is feeling shy again. A filthy thought more like. I know her too well to think she’s just being coy now. 

She points to my cock which is harder than steel and pressing against her like a helpless kitten. Just the thought of her wanting to touch it makes it twitch against my stomach. 

“You want to touch it, baby? Want to make me feel good?” I ask. She gives a nod as she rubs those shapely thighs together. Fuck me .

I lean forward and bury my face between the perkiest tits I’ve ever seen. I kiss my way to each one showing them each a little love. Leaving little marks so neither one feels left out. They are my friends now, it’s the least I could do. 

I feel her leg slide against my cock and groan. There is nothing, and I mean nothing I want more, than to bury myself in her right now but I won’t. 

I need to figure out this situation between us because after tonight there is no way I am giving her up. Fuck Rhys. Fuck the Attors. Fuck the FBI and Hybern and whoever the hell else stands in my way. I need to solve the problem first then get the reward. I need the incentive. Save something for later the rational part of my brain argues.

I also know, based on my recent experience with my hand, that I’ll blow my load in an embarrassingly short amount of time. I nearly did at least four times tonight and I’ve pictured Cass so many times in these kinds of scenarios that it’s starting to have the opposite effect. I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking? 

I grudgingly pull myself away from her chest and hate myself a little more. 

“As much as I would love that, I think we need to talk about what happened earlier.”

She sits up, making no effort to cover myself to my horror and delight.

“Earlier?” She asks with those big gorgeous doe eyes drinking me in like the last thing she wants to do is talk. 

“Yes sweetheart, with Rhys.” Her nose scrunches up and I see the desire slip from her eyes. 

She stands and walks out of the room, her heart shaped ass swaying. I say a silent prayer for strength as I follow after her. 

I watch as she prepares a tea kettle and motions for me to sit at the table. So, she is going to serve me naked. Fucking perfect. 

“What happened with Rhys?” she asks as she takes tea cups and saucers off her open shelving. She has to stand on her tip toes and bend over the counter to get them, a nightmare really. 

“He knows about us.” I say, I'm too distracted to temper my words. 

She turns to me startled, “He does?”

“Yes, though I didn’t confirm it outright. He told me to stay away from you.”

Her eyes flicker with rage for half a second before the emotion is gone. Replaced instead with annoyance. “He is worse than Feyre.”

I snort, “You have that right.”

“So, what now?” 

“Do you want to end this?” I ask gesturing between us. 

She purses her lips, “Of course not, do you?”

I chuckle, “After that?” I say tilting my head back to her bedroom, “I’m just getting started with you.” 

Her back is turned but I see her hand brace the countertop. She slowly looks at me over her shoulder and I know she isn’t done with me either. 

“So, what was his objection?” 

“My job mostly, but I think he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” I say truthfully. 

She turns to me fully and walks over and sits on my lap, “You are good Azriel, anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m just glad it gets to be me.”

My cold heart melts with her sweet words. “No one deserves you Elain, no one.”

She tries to object but I silence her with a kiss. I keep my hands on her face because if they touch her anywhere else I won't be able to stop. 

I pull away and rest my forehead against hers. “He is right about my job. It’s dangerous and as much as I wish it weren’t the case, you being connected with me puts you in danger. I can’t have that. Do you understand?”

She nods. “Good, we will just need to be more careful moving forward. Avoid any tempting situations.” I look down at where her still wet pussy is pressed against my cock. The wily little minx is smiling at me when I look back up. 

“No, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” She teases as she gets up. Mother save me .

I clear my throat, “You’re not going to ask about my job?” I ask, curious that she hasn’t brought it up. 

“No, you’ve told me you can’t talk about it and I trust you.” She says as if it’s that simple. Gods how I wish it were. 

“I need to figure some things out but I hope that in time I can share more with you. Believe me when I say I wish I could.”

Elain saunters over with the serving tray with our tea and two slices of lemon pie. She serves me still completely bare and I wonder for the hundredth time tonight how on earth I got so lucky. 

“I believe you,” she says softly. “I trust you and we agreed this was our secret from the beginning. Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much about Rhys.”

I smirk at my clever, wonderful Elain, “Why is that?”

“In a few short months he is going to have his hands full.”

[matt0044]

This is something I've often experienced with other shows be they stuff I have it bad for or stuff that I acknowledge is good but isn't for me. It's gotten to the point where when I see something getting dunked yet see that it's a fairly thriving series or even a full-on franchise, I start to scrutinize the scrutiny.

Especially when a lot of the popular talking points are either memes or passed around so often, they may as well be meme.

A while back, Netflix's 13 Reasons Why was bandied about Tumblr and YouTube as this most offensive thing for it's portrayal of suicide. I was aware of how this wasn't the sort of subject to take lightly lest I be eating my foot for a full course meal. As such, I took the outrage's word for it and steered clear.

I did start to get curious with a lot of specific scenes from Season 1 being passed around for the afformentioned dunking. Such as Hannah calling Clay a nerd for referencing Star Wars only for said post to show how much The Force Awakens grossed.

Said curiosity grew when I saw many video essays tackling 13 Reasons Why. Most were negative but what I footage saw didn't seem bad. Some of it was pretty... nice actually. But still, this was the show that gave suicide and poor mental health a bad name with how the female lead took her own life seemingly out of revenge.

So... I stayed away. That is, until I saw a billboard for Season 2 in NYC. Now this got me seeing that this show had a legit audience. Not just hatewatchers but those invested in the story of Hannah Baker and Clay Jensen. That's when I decided to add it to my watch list.

At best, it would be bad but maybe a fascinating kind of bad. The kind that RiffTrax would sink their teeth into. At worst, it would be a bore and I'd turn the other way. Then I started to watch it.

Twenty Six episodes later... I loved it. I felt that it... spoke to me emotionally on how life can be so messed up. I loved how no character was totally good or bad. How even Number 12 on the tapes had his depths despite being, well, the worst really.

When Hannah reached the end of her rope, I found myself begging her to not do what I knew she'd do. When Tyler Down tried to take matters into his own hands, I wished I could be there to talk him down. It takes a very special kind of story to invoke that kind of visceral dread.

Now if you've heard me out, how it relates to RWBY is that a lot of the dismissal and derision relies on a specific kind of media illiteracy: the active lack of curiosity.

Rather than be curious about people pitching a fit about "X show" and seeing for themselves what all the hubbub is about, they just stay away. They go with the crowd essentially.

And why wouldn't they? It's like how school bullies get away with picking on their victims even in front of others. Anyone else who doesn't want to play hero would keep their head down and not even be associated with the targeted kid.

I mean, we've got clickbait titles called "We Watch 'X' So You Don't Have To." That is literally ripping off the Nostalgia Critic AKA baby's first Angry Geek. It's not that looking into a show so you'd know if it's worth your time or not is bad. It's when it's from second hand sources like very leading Video Essays.

So many act autoritative and present themselves with the kind of confidence we so wish we had in ourselves. We trust that they're editing isn't being coy and that their assessment is legitimate or, if more emotionally, honest at the very least.

But what about the show itself? Why not find any clips online that highlight certain moments? Why not at least view some of the trailers? Why not go onto subreddits or Socials to ask, "Hey, why do some many seem to like this show?"

Because between James Somerton and Lily Orchard, it's become abundantly clear that there are many who are willing to abuse this this trust. And they are not isolated incidents. Even those who maybe are just giving their opinion may be twisting facts to suit their narrative. They also may be not.

But you won't know unless we let ourselves be curious. Is the show trash? Or is it just another punching bag for YouTubers to hit so money will fall out if they make a hard enough blow?

Is the show truly offensive? Or did it mishandled pre-warning those of its subject content?

Is the show bad... or just not for you?

Be curious. Find the answers for yourself. Nobody is ever immune from mob mentality.

@tumblingxelian @citadelofmythoughts @galaxy98

it is wild to me that the word of mouth on RWB/Y being 'bad' is like, secondhand

almost every time it's someone saying they've never watched the show but they got their opinion from a youtuber or reddit

the casual admittance that they outsource their thinking to other people, who they don't know, and they can't know are telling the truth, because they refuse to engage with the source material, and then proceed to go about their lives on pure confirmation bias, everyone who validates that opinion (regardless of whether they actually watched the show or are also regurgitating someone else's opinion as fact) is truthful and anyone who disagrees and says that the show is good, actually, is dismissed as either being a liar or stupid (because it's definitely smart and mature to make a mass value judgment on people you don't know, about a topic you know very little about)

and that's the thing, when you've got one group of people saying a piece of media is bad and the worst thing ever, and you've got another group who are saying it's good and fun, then a) it's clear there's some level of subjectivity involved here, which means the "objectively bad" claims you've been consuming should have immediate doubt cast on them (though really if anyone says anything is 'objectively bad' then they're conflating their opinion as fact and that's a red flag) and b) the smart thing to do would be to actually try to consume the media to see what it is that has appealed to people enough to contribute to its enduring popularity, even if it doesn't end up appealing to you, and not dismiss it out of hand

[deathdetermineslife]

how do you manage to get any followers or friends in the selfshipping community? is it just luck?

for months i’ve been trying to interact with others and follow people, engaging with stuff like ask games and hosting reblog games, but when i try to share any artwork or i reblog an ask game myself, its radio silence. like even in small discords i get ignored so bad

i don’t say this at all to be guilt tripping /gen, it’s genuine curiosity at how this stuff even works. like am i doing something wrong or is the community just like this?

here is my comprehensive and lame guide on How To Get Selfship Followers

step 1 - posting

so a lot of my posts are either kinda general or fun. folks I will not lie to you. these are all stupid shit that come to my mind on a day to day basis. for example, today, I thought, "man I'm such a loser I'm not in college like all my friends r" and then I was like "omg wait. i could make a post out of this" so I did that.

you also kinda gotta be conistent. so i try to post at least *something* everyday. even if its a reblog, tho, I don't reblog a lot of things other than ask games.

another thing with posting is that i do try to make a lot of community based content. so idk if yall remember but in the beginning of my account, I did the "things you can do if you have xyz f/o". i did like,,, I think almost 100 of those ?????? it was a lot. then I started making templates and I made some ask games and ofc I post a lot of general like,,, imagine stuff. oh also polls. people seem to enjoy polls.

step 2 - be positive

this is the big thing. as most of yall (hopefully) know, I do not fw proshippers !! but I don't talk about discourse unless its directly brought up. not only this, I put a big focus on just,,, being nice idk. like id like to think I'm a pretty down to earth person.

if you make a template and people tag you in it, say something nice! reply to peoples art, send in asks, things like that. i try to do my part in being nice. i also just like hearing about peoples selfships.

when people post promos and have the little "rb to be moots", reblog! when you come across someone having a bad day, maybe they made a vent or something, reply with a simple "I hope you feel better <3" or "your f/o loves you <3". things like that, ya know?

step 3 - have fun

genuinely. i post as much as i do because I like it. i didn't go into this thinking "oh... yea... I'm gonna get selfship famous..." like no I just wanna ramble somewhere bc none of my close irls r selfshippers.

you wont get popular or get followers because you grind out posts. literally one of my biggest posts on this account I wrote while I was half asleep one night and wanted to test out queuing on my account.

and in that regard, it is partially luck. i don't control what posts people do and don't like. sometimes I write up imagines and no one sees them. sometimes I write up a post saying "lol go kiss your fake boyfriend ooo smoochie smoochie" and that does numbers

step 4 - interaction

im only in two servers. one server (which was the first public server I think I ever joined ???? i could be wrong tho,,, bad memory blehg) that I don't own and then my own 18+ server. i don't think being in servers does anything,,, considering I'm only in one that isn't mine. i think its more like ,,, sticking to one or two places ?? like just being consistently in an area you're comfortable in.

i guess you gotta just find the right people ??? and like I mentioned, be friendly, but ya know. also I guess tags too? idk if you look at any of my regular posts I have 8 million tags on them. idk if that actually does anything or not because its kinda hit or miss sometimes.

i was gonna say something else but i forgot. see look listen I dunno how I got here but this is what I do ,,,, effectively nothing. also with the being kind thing, maybe this is how I am bc I'm pagan but I think that if you expect kindness back you wont get anything. sometimes its just nice to be nice. eventually you gain a reputation for being a nice person. you kinda have to not want that tho? like I don't see myself as particularly like ,,, super kind ,,,??? i just do what feels right.

step 5 - uhhhh idk im just rambling now

i guess i also went into this kinda like. damn sometimes this community is a cesspool of absolute meanie pants. i don't wanna be a Meanie Pants and just post my thoughts and the things I think about. i guess how I see it too is, I kinda like ? idk I think all these things anyways why not post them? kinda feels like a waste not to.

also ive been told my posts are pretty recognizable bc of how I format them ? my dividers and such. also tagging all of my imagines and stuff with my 🥀📜 emojis. i guess that helps too? because that's how I recognize certain accounts. "like oh there's them I recognize their dividers and their tags".

also you kinda gotta like,,, not let hate get to you. like have fun with it? i know that's hard, but, that's what you gotta do. when I get printer ink (bc. a hoe does NOT like buying printer ink) im printing out that fucking 8 mile long hate message I got sent. but also that's just the kinda person I am. like people being a dick and stealing my posts and telling me to swallow a glock 9mm doesn't upset me, im more like,, confused more than anything because never in my life have I ever sent hate to anyone. also I have had this "I do not care because you're some loser on the internet and you being an ass wipe is no where near as bad as the shit people have done to me irl" attitude.

TLDR; i dont think youre doing anything wrong because I don't exactly know what I'm doing right. i just... do... and sometimes, "just doing" is enough. maybe its luck, maybe I've been blessed by the tumblr algorithm and I've somehow figured it out, or maybe the community is just genuinely that bad and they pick favorites. maybe its all of the above! who knows. i try not to worry about it. i think at the end of the day, as long as you're having fun posting about your f/os and selfshipping, that's what matters.

alright thats all see ya. if you have any more questions feel free to ask however I fear I cannot answer them </3

[demi-rxndxm-stxff]

And now I present to you, my dear friends... The digital time children in their human forms!! Cameron (Also known as Cammy :3)

Sebastian!! (Not Simon >:( Don't deadname her)

Chloe and Colby (Autism and ADHD)

Me rambling about my babies below (TW: Mentions of underage drinking, mentions SH, mentions of bullying)

I love Chloe but her bangs are so fuckin hard to draw.

Colby was born with only one clock hand. And that was the hour hand which doesn't even work properly.

Sebastian has an alcohol addiction which he is trying to stop. Larry helps him overcome it.

Cammy doesn't talk often unless they need to, want to, or if it's generally necessary.

When Colby is nervous, he snaps his fingers or rubs/scratches his wrist.

All 4 of them have at least 4 one hour playlist of a song they like.

Cameron is a role model to Colby.

Favorite foods: Cameron: Mashed potatoes Sebastian: Pizza Colby: Bread Chloe: Noodles

Colby loves math and geometry.

Sebastian is left-handed and Colby is mixed-handed.

Chloe has herpetophobia (Fear of lizards. Chloe is specifically afraid of house lizards)

Chloe is the one who gave Cameron the nickname Cammy and calls Colby "Co-Co at times" (Sebastian isn't that sad about not having a nickname

Cameron and Sebastian love lizards (much to Chloe's dismay), especially chameleons.

Sebastian does SH as a way to let out her emotions and internal pain(projecting myself lol). She also does it out of frustration and the feeling that she isn't as loved as her siblings. She has consoled Cameron, who also has a history with SH and has healed, and helps Sebastian.

Colby was bullied as a kid. The main reason was that he was a broken alarm clock and couldn't tell the time correctly. Another contender was his weird interests and behaviors. So, kids at school threw rocks at him and made fun of him.

Chloe was also bullied and picked on for generally the same reasons, but the difference is Colby was picked on for being too quiet, and Chlow was picked on for being too hyper. Chloe pushed her feelings down to comfort and protect Colby. She's sad Colby thinks of her as an annoying sister.

Cameron was also picked on for being quiet and non-verbal. They struggled to talk until they were around 4-6 years old. They still struggle to make social interactions with other people, and they also start getting picked on because of it. Cammy is very touch-starved and loves hugs, but is too socially awkward to ask for any. They used to punch the walls to let out their despair and frustration, which Tony and Colin eventually found out about and sent them to therapy which they continue to this day.

Sebastian spends more time with Colin, while Colby spends more time with Tony. Cammy and Chloe are somewhere in the middle.

Trauma!! For the whole family!!

[lavender-femme]

Happy Tuesday hottie 🌹

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?

omg I adore you ty for sending these!!

frost— oh this is a hard one! to my childhood self I would probably tell her that the people who don’t want to be her friend aren’t worth the time anyway. keep reading and learn more from your grandma while she’s around and your mom before her brain betrays her. To my adolescent self I would say get help. You are worth the vulnerability it will take to get help. Also you have adhd lol. (That got a little deep oops 😅)

spice— I don’t recall any houses, but the dance studio I spent my whole childhood in had an upstairs and there were definitely ghosts that lived up there. they were friendly ones though! My dance teacher had sooooo many stories about them

Cocoa— okay I’m actually having a sort of hair crisis right now so this one is appropriate. First I would figure out what type of hair I actually have because right now there are super tight ringlets around my hairline and then long vaguely straight and wavy hair. I just wanna figure out what’s supposed to be there y’know? But beyond that I would love to have the natural hair color I had when I was around 5-7 because it was brown but also had golden blonde highlights that complimented it all so nicely!

i forgot how much I love answering asks ahhh ty ty ty

[rwby-confess]

Confession #89

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[great-tusk]

ughhh I need to stop having mental breakdowns over little things.

[kavehater]

I mean this from a social perspective not a health one : why does everything feel weird right now. Like yes I’m heartbroken about the reality of my position in the lives of my so called friends but now I just feel confused. I don’t understand why I’m not important and why I can’t change to be important to others, nor what makes a person important either.

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry