#this is really long and rambly but i think most of my thoughts got in there

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Hello! :D I'd absolutely adore hearing your thoughts on Paranoid, in the Nightmare too, but more specifically In The Cage and The Apotheosis, and also his dynamic with Broken in The Apotheosis!

I feel like I'm missing something about him, something obvious, that I'm mischaractising him in my head and fic, but I can't put my finger on it!! (Also if you've already talked about him somewhere im so sorry I've searched for it but didn't find anything about him specifically!)

Like, he's called The voice of the Paranoid but he's right!! Like?? He always catches on how their world works way quicker than the others!! Like in the Cage when he figures that if they believe that the chains are rusty, then they can cut through them! Or in The Apotheosis, he convinces Broken to fight back!! (if i remember well!)

I adore your explanations/thoughts about the game and the characters, they really help put into words what I observe but cannot really verbalise myself! :)

-FlowersandMiel

Hello!!!

First of all, thank you for enjoying my rambles!!! And speaking of him, I’m actually currently writing a response on another ask about him, but it’s not quite done yet. I still needed to check a few things for him before I decide it’s good enough to be sent!

And now, for the analysis… (sorry if it’s a bit messy)

First, before we start analysing we need to remember how we get him in chapter 2. (Long ramble below!!!!)

There are a lot of ways we can get him in chapter 2. Either you go down there with the blade and then deciding you can’t trust her, then locking her in the basement, or you go down there without the blade and the locking her in the basement. Or you can flee from her while you’re fighting you with the blade and then lock her down the basement. Paranoid is generally defined by his indecisiveness, his distrust towards the Princess (and the Narrator), and self-preservation. These traits of him are important to remember. The blade to him represents the control he has in a world where nothing feels real. Despite how he sees the world as unstable and untrustworthy, the one thing he desires most is to have something solid to believe in. A solid reality to ground himself in.

To get him in chapter two, you’d have to decide that you can’t trust the narrator, but you also can’t trust the Princess as well, making Nightmare be the only chapter 2 Princess that you can get through both soft and sharp Princess. (Technically Stranger counts as well but the difference being that you didn’t actually meet her here in chapter 1 (speaking of there’s a neat little parallel between Paranoid and Contrarian. I’ll get to that later)).

Nightmare is a big example on his worldview of the construct.

Imagine with me. You are Paranoid. After listening to what the Princess has to say, you still couldn’t decide if you want to trust her or not. So you chose the safe option where you lock the Princess within the basement and watch over her, just in case she is actually dangerous. Or, you got yourself in a fight with the Princess, and found out that you are unprepared for this. You don’t want to feel pain and be hurt. And so you rush out and lock her in, hoping that maybe she will bleed out to death.

But then she started ramming the door. It further confirms your fears. But it’s fine right? She’s locked down there, she can’t actually get out of the place, so you decide to sleep for a little bit while she’s at it. And then after who knows how long, you have awaken, and seeing that the door is wiiiiiide open. But hold on, you literally locked her in the basement and yet she still finds a way to get out of the place??? This shouldn’t be possible, and yet here we are, with her slowly stepping towards us. Wait, but we did think about the possibility of her being able to get out despite locking her in there, does that mean that’s the reason she’s able to get out??? Oh my god this world makes absolutely no sense at all!!! Doors and the lock doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to, the Narrator can’t be trusted, the Princess can’t be trusted, and oh my god she is stepping towards me and my heart starts racing and and and-

Boom, Nightmare.

In Apotheosis, he and Broken share a lot of similarities with one another regarding their desire to find something stable to confide in. Broken, where he had found a sense of control and safety in Apotheosis/Tower in a world where he had been broken down, Paranoid in turn finds control in his thoughts and the blade. Of course, him having a breakdown in Apotheosis and realising that the world is not real and solid at all is gonna break him, cause having his thoughts and worst fears about the world be confirmed just means that nothing really matters at all. But Paranoid being That Guy, use those fears and this new revelation of the world to his own advantage, and thus creating a new sense of control over what he used to believe an uncontrollable world. And with that he encourages Broken to believe in themself and regain that sense of control, to the point where they’re able to fight against the goddess herself on equal footing. Apotheosis herself actually comments on it herself, questioning whether he is fighting back because of his courage, or is it madness that drives him.

Speaking of Apotheosis, both Paranoid and Contrarian find their place in this route. Paranoid and Contrarian parallel each other in a way where they would both choose a third option instead of what they were presented with. Paranoid, with him choosing to keep the Princess in the basement instead of choosing to fully committing to freeing or slaying her. Contrarian, on the other hand, just didn’t want to do what he is told by an authority figure. The difference in getting them is in whether you tell her that she’s destined to end the world or not, and whether you bring the blade down with you(I have yet to understand the significance in not bringing the blade down with you to get Paranoid here, so forgive me if it seems a bit incomplete). In a way, their Princesses became mini-versions of the Shifting Mound because of this. Nightmare and her embodying the fear and terror of change, and Stranger with her many perspectives and all of the possibilities that comes with change.

Cage is basically Paranoid falling into despair instead of him have a self-actualisation in Apotheosis. The blade, something Paranoid saw as a symbol of control, is the thing that is keeping the both of them trapped. If you make the choice of not doing anything while Cage is walking towards you, Cage stating that everything they do is just the same shade of the same cycle would lead to Paranoid to have the perspective that nothing they ever do mattered in the first place. That they had absolutely no control in the situation, and their choices don’t matter. This is. Probably a horrible spot for Paranoid to be in.

Paranoid is overall a really intelligent character. But unlike Skeptic, whose logic runs on very grounded and unchanging reality, his runs on anxiety. Both Paranoid and Skeptic would notice little details and would attempt to piece the pieces together in a way that is coherent. Both wants to have a truth to ground themselves in.

As for the reason why he’s the first one who gets a grip on how the construct works is because… he’s paranoid. Hear me out.

The construct doesn’t work with a concrete standard logic. But instead it runs on your perception of the world, which by itself is very flimsy. The conclusion of “the world shifts by our beliefs” type of logic can only be thought by someone who literally doesn’t trust anything around them. Which is someone Paranoid is. That’s the reason why Skeptic wasn’t able to figure out how the construct works but Paranoid could. They’re like, two different flavours of logic. Skeptic’s more of a detective, while Paranoid is more of a conspiracy theorist (kinda? I dunno what other words I should use to describe him). So if you put Skeptic and Paranoid in the “real world”, Skeptic would thrive while Paranoid is just gonna flop real bad. In the construct however it’s the opposite.

The detachment to something grounded is something Cold and Paranoid share. Cold with his emotional detachment and Paranoid whose thoughts runs 5000 miles per minute makes him really detached from a grounded reality. Because of this, these two are the two voices that figured things out before any other voice did. Cold regarding Quiet’s nature(or “The Self”), and Paranoid the world around them. And ironically these two would absolutely fumble if they were placed in somewhere much more stable.

Annnnnd that’s it! These are my current thoughts of Paranoid as a character! Hopefully it’s helpful for your writing ^^

Good luck on your fic btw!

[kitts-mechanix]

Exactly! The fact that so many people are leaving the fandom is....it's tragic. Just about everyone I know is gone at this point. I've spent an entire decade teaching myself how to draw, creating entire worlds, writing immersive stories, things I hope people could love and appreciate the way I love and appreciate their works. So many things that I've yet to post even. I think one of the reasons this fandom used to be one of the safest, kindest fandoms is because we all knew what it was like to be put down, bullied, ostracised by others for loving "the weakest Pixar franchise" and especially Cars 2 AKA "Pixar's most hated movie". And the community was active and supported each other. Most of us were never famous, but that was okay because we did all of this for fun, not fame.

I honestly feel guilty, and even like a whiny baby, when I lament about no one comments on anything anymore. I can't recall the last time I got a meaningful comment on my work, or a comment about how the chapter of a story made them feel, details they loved, etc. I don't want to sound entitled, but I miss the days when people took the time to write out thoughtful comments and read. And the fact that no one really does that anymore, honestly just makes my writer's a block a lot worse. Why slave away on something no one will read? I'm not going to stop doing what I love. But it's harder now than it ever was before.

There were so many people in this fandom I loved who have moved on. Some were like sisters to me. Fizz was my inspiration too, and I've always appreciated my interactions with Blay. I lost two online sisters (I won't name them) who both fell down dark paths and cut me out for no reason. (A major FU to CC for turning one of them into Anakin Skywalker). I remember talking to people like Asphalt, RMS Olympic, or Fizz, or Eclipse, or Shadow and it felt like I was meeting a celebrity! I especially freaked out when I became close friends/sisters with some of them. This was back in 2017. I could have never foreseen what would happen after 2021....

And speaking of 2021, I think the reason we were so darn blessed to have one last year of what we once had, was because of one thing: Cars 2 10th anniversary. The diecast collection was exciting again. People made content and interacted again. We all had a renaissance. I had THE best Christmas since 2016. I thought this was the dawn of a new era. And then my 22nd birthday was pretty incredible too with all the cool Cars stuff I got, best one since my 16th! But that was the last spark. With one final burst, the fire had died out. I have not been able to rekindle it since.

And yeah I know about that monster being back, I really hope that petition will make a difference (last I checked it just needs 20 more sigs). I am slowly re-uploading my stuff (although a certain OC is probably never going to see the light of day again) but if things get too crazy I will honestly lock it behind "members only" for the sake of my mental health. I feel the fandom is either less welcoming to diverse people now or the welcoming sides are very extremist, neither of which I ever saw in my old days in the fandom. And while I'm not a fan of yaoi ships personally, I do believe people should have the freedom to create, express and share things like that. If people don't like something, they need to learn they have two options it: go back, or if you must, block it. It's that simple.

Anyway sorry for the ramble. I'm just glad someone gets it, you know? Honestly, I've been holding these thoughts in for a LONG time and now I just....I can't hold it back anymore.

I love this series and its characters with all my heart. Nothing could ever take that away. This franchise saved my life in 2015, just like G1 Transformers did back in August. But I cannot deal with what this fandom has become anymore.

RIP Cars fandom. 2006-2021

Fandom Problem #7581:

I hate how normalized harassment, bullying and overall being a dick has become normalized in fandom spaces. What's sick to me is that these people will harass and dox someone over the dumbest shit and then try to make themselves seem like they're morally right to do so, it's like it's a game to them. It honestly makes me feel like there's no point in being in fandoms at all if I could get harassed off a platform for the dumbest thing

[graff-aganda]

No no ikr. The ENT fandom is so quiet around here. And honestly I'm just excited to see art of my favourite dudes, because we rarely get fanart around here, and when we do it's usually Trip or T'Pol solely. Malcolm gets left in the dust quite a lot so I'm happy you drew him as well - and so well done too!

Anyway, ramble over, lol.

OMG... Well I think I can see why a lot of fanart is of Trip and/or T'pol (those two seem like they're doing some heavy lifting for the show/are just a lot of people's faves. I've got a few half baked ideas in mind for them myself.) but the rest of the crew as a whole do deserve more love I think! :]

[poisonouspastels]

I need to talk about Minecraft AU for a sec and how the difference between our world and their world makes for some of the most humorous but also interesting differences in how people act about certain subjects.

Like the trans thing right. Steve and Rana are both trans I've talked about that before. And neither of them are on hormone replacement or anything (there is an in universe explanation as to why Steve has a beard though I promise I can talk about that if anyone wants) but like that's fine bc it literally Doesn't Matter to them or anyone else. Like as spawned players they already don't have any pre-existing gender roles or ideas of what something "should" be so gender and presentation is what they make of it and there's no real solid idea in anyone's mind about how a "boy" or "girl" behaves or looks like. These are labels that exist but they barely mean anything. It also helps that any preexisting culture that WOULD have ideas of this was almost entirely destroyed like 5000 years ago (thanks Groda) so it matters even less than it already did.

And its funny bc the only two people alive from that era, White Eyes and Groda also just don't care. Groda maybe asks why Rana's voice sounds deeper once and nearly gets torn apart by Alex bc of it (Rana isn't offended or anything she just has a defensive girlfriend), bc she doesn't really understand because she never experienced anything like this first hand but very quickly comes to understand it and accept it. And on the other hand White Eyes is just like "I've seen weirder things than this" which yeah. Yeah honestly I think the person who was previously one with the undead would not care about gender in the grand scheme of things.

And then u have Kai which I've joked before that they may as well have been spawned in nonbinary. They rlly just said "I'm not really anything" and everyone was like yeah makes sense I vibe with it. Good for u.

Steve and Rana are both fairly open about having been the opposite genders previously (because that's how they view their experiences and that's valid!) and don't really shy away from the subject but also never really have much reason to talk about it since there's rarely a need to. In the modern day pretty much everyone who met them had met them post-transition. Even Alex had met them just before Steve started growing in his beard. The only people who ever knew them as Adam and Eve were Efe and Sunny but they never really thought it was weird or anything. Like the weirdest part to them was Steve saying he got his epiphany from seeing some guy in the distance on a foggy day who looked vaguely like him but that's its own subject manner that they aren't going to pry on.

Also Steve did DIY top "surgery" previously with a sword but we aren't going to talk about how messy that was for everyone involved.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ash and s.ugiura do get engaged someday, and it's always so heartwarming thinking about s.ugiura visiting his sister before he pops the question. him by her grave with a soft smile on his face, telling her about how he's never been happier, how he knows that this girl is his soulmate.

back when she was alive, she had that line about how sometimes she worries about her little bro. but she doesn't have to worry anymore. he's so happy.

[infizero]

every time i so much as think about that scene where light looks at porn magazines while scowling i go into hysterics its genuinely the funniest thing i've ever seen

[todayisafridaynight]

time a flat circle why the hell am i usin the same loafers i bought for one cosplay of my fave antagonist for another fave antagonist

[just-some-random-blogger]

FIRST. IM THE FIRST REBLOG. AT LEAST I HOPE

THE WAY I STARTED LIKING THIS WHEN I SAW IT STARTED WITH AFTERRRRCAAREEE UGHHHHHH

Gentle. Considerate, which it’s more than what I can say for most HOTD men.

Its ok. You can say the entire Targaryen dynasty.

Not my tho

Will totally use the “sharing body heat” excuse to hold you close. 

Don't need no excuse I am touch deprived come here 🏃‍♀️💨💨💨

He is a swordsman, for starters, so they are pretty important to him. [...] The Dragonknight himself said he was the finest fighter he had faced, [...]

I SEE YOU AND I RAISE YOU HIM BEING OBSESSED WITH A GIRL WITH SOME CURVE LIKE THE FEELING THIGHS AND TUMMY AND ARMS ALL SOFT AHHHHHHHHHHHHH LIKE A BIGGER GIRLIE I JUST UGHHH I SEE IT FOR HIM COS HES STRONG AND HES LIKE YEAH I COULD TAKE HER NOT IN A FIGHT THOUGH

But we are not here to talk about his abilities with the sword.

Honestly I enjoyed your ramble about it, as someone who knows nothin jon snow

In my head, Cregan totally has a size kink, and I’ll go into it later. 

I see you. And I agree. I also still see the bigger girl for him tho.

He likes the idea of coming inside you, [...]

Same

HAHAHHHAHAHHHHHHHA I AM SO SORRY I JUS THINK THIS IS SO FUNY ANS IV NOT YET BEEN ABLE TO USE IT

I fear in a society like Westeros, everyone and their mom has a breeding kink.

Yeah. I live in westeros btw. Him and his mom fr

[...] he loves it when you are in charge. [...] If you were to push his head towards between your thighs, or push him down to be able to ride him, he would lose his mind. 

Same

He likes marking you, but he likes you marking him as well.

He'll look like he lost a fight to me by the end of it

[...] so I would say he attaches sex and love or at least sex and marriage. He doesn't look like he goes to brothels either, considering how he speaks about duty. 

I absolutely agree

So, I think he has only known one woman, but also that they did plenty. He knows what he is doing.

No cuz that's why I think he talks you through it ..... Am I insane... He gives I've got you ........ Or am I projecting

Anything that allows for him to look into your eyes. Missionary can be as intense as more creative positions if the person you are with is as intense as Cregan. Picture this. You, laying spread over the furs, his hand holding your nape, fingers cradling your skull. His forehead pressed to yours, chest hair brushing against your chest, as he smothers you slightly with his weight. Bodies intertwined so close that you don’t know where you begin and Cregan ends. 

WHEN YOU MENTIONED THE FURS I WAS LIKE THATS WHAT I IMAGINE WITH HIM ALL THE TIME FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK MISSIONARY SO HE CAN SPIT IN MY MOUTH

Serious. Too much sometimes. The scene with Jace at the Wall made it clear for me, this man is intense.  

I would be such a brat with him SUCH A BRAT. FUCKING INSUFFERABLE

Cregan likes you on top too, as long as both of you are sitting. There is nothing better than watching you take your pleasure from him, hips rolling, hands braced against his shoulders, mouth agape in pained ecstasy.

YOU CANT DESCRIBE SHIT LIKE THIS AND NOT GIVE ME SMUT 🖕🖕🖕🖕 HATE CRIME????

Something I found really curious about him is that he doesn't have a beard.

... Not to break the 4th wall but I think it's just cos he's blonde????? HAHAHAHAHHAHAH and they didn't wanna dye it? I MEAN I COULD BE WRONG THEY COUKD HAVE GIVEN HIM A FAKE ONE BUT LIKE JDJDJDKDKDSM IDKKK

Cregan isn’t much of a talker, but he is definitely the sort to say what he thinks with devastating effect.

YESH BUT LIKE HESR ME OUT HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT CRISTIIII HEAR ME OUTTT HEAR ME OUTTTT. HES NOT MUCH OF A TALKER BUT HE LIKES GETTING YOU WORKED UP WITH FILTHY LANGUAGEEEEEEEEEEE LIKES SEEING YOU SQUIRMMM WHEN HE SAYS SMTHHHH CRISTIIII HEAR ME OUTGTT

Cregan will not admit it out loud because he feels a bit bad about it, but he gets off on how much stronger or bigger than you he is.

The way I SCREAMED cos I thought you were agreeing with the him liking bigger girls thing suddenly 😔😔😔 I SEE IT HIS SIZE KINK THO I THINK ITS CANON DEFINITELY LIKES OVERPOWERING SOMEONE BUT NOT IN A NONCON WAY AT ALL. I think he might like primal play tho

[...] when he lifts you on his cock like a ragdoll under the pretense of helping you when your thighs ache from riding him for too long.

Oh to be a ragdoll for cregan

If you tell him you are anxious because you think he won’t fit, he is having a field day. What man doesn’t love to hear that? He would love to see you spread open on his cock, watching as your cunt struggles to take inch after delicious inch, or how dainty your fingers look wrapped around his length. 

He doesn’t do casual in my eyes. 

I agree

But if you are the one marking him? Or being a little jealous, like grabbing his arm when a lady looks at him too long? Cregan isn’t waiting for an opportunity or the right moment, he simply throws you over his shoulder and carries you to bed. You have staked your claim, and it's only fair he gets his turn. 

ME. MARKING HIM. I NEED HIM T MANHANDLE ME

Prefers receiving. And it’s totally in love with it. I am sorry, I know it might seem annoying, but it’s on-brand because he is obsessed with your mouth, has a size kink and likes marking. I do not make the rules, it is how it is! 

I have to give him babies AND suck his dick 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄✋✋✋✋✋✋ the workkkkkk

And when Cregan is in a mood to tease you, his knowledge of your body will prove equally dangerous because he will know all your tells and places to avoid so you can tether on the brink until he feels satisfied with how close to insanity he has brought you. 

Only fair

If you ask him to move faster or be rougher, Cregan will certainly deliver, though it isn’t what he prefers. He will probably go back to his unhurried pace to draw it out a moment longer before finishing. 

I love me a slow burn but I will be whiny as fuck

Otherwise, Cregan will not mention it. He has fantasies of his own, and fantasies will remain unless you ask him about it. Once you ask, though, he is more than willing to explore and share. 

🫵 YOURE ALL UP IN MY GUTS BUT WONT TELL ME UR FANTASIES? you know what I see the just silent while fucking now.... I hate it. I'm losing my mind. Give me daemon. Give me that cocky fucker. Gimme gwayne. He'd talk me through it.

As I said, Cregan enjoys drawing it out, so I am afraid there will not be multiple rounds in a night.

😔 I accept. I would be tired too HAHHAH

Quiet. Cregan isn’t a man of many words. He isn’t the sort to whisper filth in your ears during sex, nor will he moan. I think he is the sort to quietly sigh and grunt instead. He is devastatingly honest, and he will be very assertive at telling you how he wants you. 

BOOO 🍅🍅🍅🍅 MAKE MEN PATHETIC AND MOANY.... I'll let it pass cos he's gonna dick me down for being a bitch

Cregan is obsessed with the way you smell. Blame the slightly wolfish traits of the Starks.

He is tall and big.

Random fun fact but creatures in colder regions are bigger because it helps them up their chances of survival. I only know this cos polar bears and love them. He's polar bear

Much like a bear, once he is sated, he hibernates, so if he falls asleep cuddling you, you are not going anywhere. 

CALLED IT.

Cregan's Alphabet (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: Just a quick little smutty alphabet for our favorite northern. Featuring fem!reader and full of my headcanons.

Warnings: Smut. Mature language. 

A/N: I promised a 2k character study but I am not too confident yet on writing smut for Cregan. No one asked for this, but I have always wanted to write one. Far more than 2k. Tagging @just-some-random-blogger so you can read my ramblings. 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Gentle. Considerate, which it’s more than what I can say for most HOTD men. Cregan is the sort to clean you up and then fall asleep, preferably cuddling you. He is cautious to keep you warm, especially if you aren’t a northern. Will totally use the “sharing body heat” excuse to hold you close. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

About himself, I would say his hands. He is a swordsman, for starters, so they are pretty important to him. Wielding Ice it’s not an easy feat, the sword looked huge, and while I am sure that it takes quite a bit of strength, mobility in the wrists is also essential for sword fighting. Did you know Cregan is likely one of the best swordsmen in the Dance? The Dragonknight himself said he was the finest fighter he had faced, and that was when Aemon was in his prime and Cregan most likely… fifty-something? Sixty?

But we are not here to talk about his abilities with the sword. Well, we are, but not with Ice. Cregan likes his hands because he enjoys what he can do to you with them. Totally the kind to enjoy watching how his fingers dig into your skin, when he is holding you open for him, and how it dwarfs you or how easy it is to pin you down. Most likely, you will have smaller hands than him because the man is huge, and he likes that he can wrap his around yours and how tiny it makes yours look.  In my head, Cregan totally has a size kink, and I’ll go into it later. 

As for what he likes best about you, the answer is easy: Your mouth. Cregan is a simple man, and northern garb doesn’t quite allow for much to be visible beyond the hands and the face, considering the cold. There is something about a woman’s mouth that is sensuous to him. The way your lips move when you talk, the way they stretch when you smile, or how you nibble on quills when distracted, he loves it. He is a huge fan of making out. 

Cregan cannot help but think of how your lips would look, kiss swollen and shining with spit, or kissing a path down his body. How your mouth would look, stretched around his cock, your eyes meeting his. How you would taste afterwards of swallowing his seed. How it would fall open in sweet gasps, as you are overcome by the pleasure he intends to bring you.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes the idea of coming inside you, filling you with his seed, but it isn’t as much of a breeding kink thing as you would think. It’s more about marking you up in the most primal way. Cregan wouldn’t be opposed to spilling his seed all over you. He loves smelling or tasting himself on you. 

I fear in a society like Westeros, everyone and their mom has a breeding kink. Cregan is no exception, have you seen the amount of children he has in canon? He kept remarrying again and again. He would be happy to see you swollen with his child, the ultimate proof you are his and only his. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has two. Both related. First, Cregan will never voice it (because good old misogyny) but he loves it when you are in charge. He has a thing for fierce women, and you can bet that nothing is sexier to him than you directing him towards exactly where you want him. If you were to push his head towards between your thighs, or push him down to be able to ride him, he would lose his mind. 

He likes marking you, but he likes you marking him as well. Cregan is the sort of man that will wear anything you give him with pride, be it a brooch, a ring, or even hickeys. There is just something comforting about you wearing his hickeys or bruises, on leaving you covered in bite marks, on claiming you. Something that tells him you are there to stay, that he can keep you a second longer. Something that is as equally comforting as to see a physical reminder that you want him, and that you are not letting go. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

If we stick to book canon, Cregan is a widower. Arra was his first love, a childhood friend who later got betrothed to him. They had a child, so this man isn't a virgin. 

Brothel culture doesn't seem as prevalent in the North as it is in the South (Theon and Robb speak of the brothel in GOT in opposition to King's Landing's brothels. Plural) and Cregan kept remarrying and having children, so I would say he attaches sex and love or at least sex and marriage. He doesn't look like he goes to brothels either, considering how he speaks about duty. 

That is a good thing in my eyes. The experience he has, what little of it there is, is with a genuine woman. A whore would praise him and feign pleasure, I doubt Arra would have. So, I think he has only known one woman, but also that they did plenty. He knows what he is doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that allows for him to look into your eyes. Missionary can be as intense as more creative positions if the person you are with is as intense as Cregan. Picture this. You, laying spread over the furs, his hand holding your nape, fingers cradling your skull. His forehead pressed to yours, chest hair brushing against your chest, as he smothers you slightly with his weight. Bodies intertwined so close that you don’t know where you begin and Cregan ends. 

Cregan likes you on top too, as long as both of you are sitting. There is nothing better than watching you take your pleasure from him, hips rolling, hands braced against his shoulders, mouth agape in pained ecstasy. He much prefers it to reverse cowgirl because this way he can see your eyes and hold you close. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious. Too much sometimes. The scene with Jace at the Wall made it clear for me, this man is intense. I do not think he makes jokes during sex, but not do I think it kills the mood for him if something funny happens (I. E: Breaking the bed, butting heads when going for a kiss) I think he just ignores it and moves on. He has a lot of gravitas, the sort of man who no one would laugh at, and that helps to prevent him from getting moody if something embarrassing does happen. 

His overall approach in life is being serious, so if you are the most precious thing in the world to him, you can bet he will be serious during sex too. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Something I found really curious about him is that he doesn't have a beard. He was clean shaved, unlike other Starks we have met. Some say keeping a beard helps with the cold, even, yet he doesn't have one. Cregan's hair is pretty dark, so if he didn't shave regularly, he would have stubble. That he doesn't have any indicates to me that he takes care in his grooming. I think down there it’s the same. He isn’t clean-shaven, but he keeps things neat. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If I had to define him in one word: Intense. To me, he has such a presence that I can only picture him as that. He is huge on eye contact and being so close you are practically breathing the same air. He strikes me as touch starved, so I feel it is very important to him to be caressed and touched gently. I doubt many people do that to the Lord of Winterfell, especially considering what happened to his family. Being orphaned and then usurped probably meant he wasn’t exactly getting cuddles. And, canonically, his best friend is a man, which in Westeros means zero touching, and he also married his other friend. 

Cregan isn’t much of a talker, but he is definitely the sort to say what he thinks with devastating effect. And that includes telling you just how attractive he finds you, or, if you are his long-term partner, how much he loves you. He isn’t waxing poetry, but it is sort of romantic in a blunt way. For example, if he likes your body, he will simply say so. No euphemisms, no overt praise. Just honesty. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He so does. No one can convince me of the contrary. To say he doesn’t is to be unrealistic. Cregan has a high sex drive, so when he is in a hurry or without you, he masturbates. If he is with you, and you have the time, he prefers sex. To him, sex isn’t a rushed affair, so it makes sense that if he is in the mood and lacking time, he will prefer to jack off. Though he won’t say no if you are offering, Cregan will probably sulk afterwards if he feels he didn’t get enough time to return the favor. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Cregan will not admit it out loud because he feels a bit bad about it, but he gets off on how much stronger or bigger than you he is. And before you go rolling your eyes at me and saying I do not think of my bigger girls, I want you to think about how tall he is and the fact that he wields Ice. He can totally handle a reader who probably has little strength because patriarchy in Westeros, most of us will not be running around with a sword like Arya or Brienne. 

As an honorable man, who does his best to uphold his every vow and oath, it’s a bit difficult to reconcile the vow he has made to protect you with what he thinks are thoughts of… less honorable men. He also respects you far too much to actually hurt you. But there is a secret, pleasant coiling in his gut when he steers you with a firm hand on your waist, or when he lifts you on his cock like a ragdoll under the pretense of helping you when your thighs ache from riding him for too long. And the fewer mentions there are about how much he enjoys being able to pin your wrists down when the two of you are play wrestling, the better. It isn’t as if he is misusing it in the bedroom, either, but you will hear about that in a bit….

And his size kink doesn’t stop in our more modern context, either. He has one that goes in the original sense. Cregan is a simple man, as I have stated before. If you tell him you are anxious because you think he won’t fit, he is having a field day. What man doesn’t love to hear that? He would love to see you spread open on his cock, watching as your cunt struggles to take inch after delicious inch, or how dainty your fingers look wrapped around his length. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Cregan strikes me as a private man. He presents a stoic facade to the world, and is probably fearful of being vulnerable. And sex can be a very vulnerable thing, especially since I see him having trouble with not getting attached. He doesn’t do casual in my eyes.  For those reasons, I think he prefers places where you can lock the door and not be disturbed for a very long time, especially if Rickon is already in the picture. He also seems responsible enough to not want to traumatize his child. 

I think for comfort’s sake, Cregan would say his favorite place is his bedroom. A comfortable mattress, a functional door, and a fireplace seems like a winning combination to him. He is open to doing it somewhere else, like his solar, where the door can also be locked, but it seems a bit rushed to him. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Cregan likes strong women. It is one of the reasons he likes Black Aly, I think. And it takes strength to survive in the North. So any time you display competency, be it because you are some great swordswoman, politician or tactician, hell, even if you are competent in the daily running of Winterfell, he is into it. I picture him standing there, watching in awe at you doing your thing, and thinking of how lucky he is.

I stated before that Cregan likes marking you. If he sees you in his clothes, that man is ravishing you as soon as you get the chance. But if you are the one marking him? Or being a little jealous, like grabbing his arm when a lady looks at him too long? Cregan isn’t waiting for an opportunity or the right moment, he simply throws you over his shoulder and carries you to bed. You have staked your claim, and it's only fair he gets his turn. 

And, of course, a staple. Seeing you with Rickon or any other children makes him think of you giving him children of your own. Nothing wrong with the basics, right? 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I am going to say something unpopular. I do not see Cregan as the kind of man who is interested in hurting you. He can be rough with you, if you ask for it, but I do not think choking you to almost unconsciousness will do much for him. Holding you down, yes, hurting you, no. I also don’t picture him as the kind to enjoy dubious consent in a modern sense, though considering the whole marriage in Westeros thing, I do think he would want to “exercise his marital rights” sometimes. Why? Because he kept having children with his wives, so I think the whole heir and spare was important to him. There is an implicit dubious consent there, if he argues it is your duty, but I do not think he would enjoy abusing his power. I mean, do I see him, like, accosting the maids? Hell no. And of course, noncon is totally out. If you said no, it’s a no, and that is the end of it. Unlike other characters in HOTD, he won’t try to convince you or coax you into it. He respects you and your boundaries too much. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving. And it’s totally in love with it. I am sorry, I know it might seem annoying, but it’s on-brand because he is obsessed with your mouth, has a size kink and likes marking. I do not make the rules, it is how it is! 

Nothing is more than a treat to him than watching how your mouth stretches around his cock, how you struggle to take him inside. He is careful not to let you choke too much, but Cregan is a bit ashamed to admit that it strokes his ego when you do. He likes cradling your skull when you do it, and has enough manners not to push your head around. If you ask him to guide you, he will do so. Same if you ask him to hold your hair. Huge fan of eye contact he is, will stare intently at your face as you take him in. It gives him the advantage of looking exactly how wrecked your pretty face gets. 

He almost enjoys the aftermath more than the actual blowjob. Cregan likes to see how your mouth looks, lips swollen and puffy from the abuse they have been subjected to, eyelashes a bit wet, face painted with his seed. It’s enough to ensure you get a very nice quid pro quo and then some. 

Cregan is not a huge fan of giving oral. He is indifferent to the act, but he enjoys bringing you pleasure. He is experienced enough to know his way around a woman’s body, and he is a quick study. It means he will get down on his knees, and kiss you there until you are a quivering mess. Once he learns what you like, though, he is a menace. He will do it over and over, holding almost a competition with himself, trying every time to get you to your peak as fast as he can. And when Cregan is in a mood to tease you, his knowledge of your body will prove equally dangerous because he will know all your tells and places to avoid so you can tether on the brink until he feels satisfied with how close to insanity he has brought you. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Cregan likes taking it slow. Sex is as much for making heirs as it is a bonding activity. He enjoys how connected to you it makes him feel, so he will draw it out as long as he can. He takes his time, cradling you close. His thrusts aren’t rushed, he moves his hips as if he has all the time in the world, making sure to hit the spots that make you feel stars. Some men seem to be in a race to reach their orgasm, but not him. Cregan isn’t the kind of man to chase his own pleasure selfishly either, and he knows that to be able to give you yours, it’s better to have finesse than blunt force. Sex with him is intense, though not because you are physically overwhelmed. Rather, he makes sure to fully engage you in it, leaving you pleasantly sore for the next day. 

If you ask him to move faster or be rougher, Cregan will certainly deliver, though it isn’t what he prefers. He will probably go back to his unhurried pace to draw it out a moment longer before finishing. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan. Cregan is a very private man, as I said before, and quickies often are in places that aren’t very much so. He also likes drawing it out because he enjoys the intimacy sex brings. So I can’t see him enjoying them. Except… 

Except if it is to tease you. To give you both a taste of what it could be like, pent you both up, torture himself by feeling exactly how good it could be if you got a few more minutes. To Cregan, the only acceptable quickies are the ones that are foreplay. Otherwise, he feels his fun is cut short and just has to brood for a while. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The embodiment of “If not broken, why fix it?” Cregan will need some coaxing to come out of his comfort zone. The two of you switch it up in the bedroom, and it's rarely boring, but if you want to add new elements to your dynamic, you will have to say so. Otherwise, Cregan will not mention it. He has fantasies of his own, and fantasies will remain unless you ask him about it. Once you ask, though, he is more than willing to explore and share. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As I said, Cregan enjoys drawing it out, so I am afraid there will not be multiple rounds in a night. If you are lucky, and he doesn’t have an early morning, there might be two. Wanting to draw it out means he lasts longer than most men, taking his time with you.  He is a firm believer of ladies going first, but the show isn’t over when you orgasm. You seriously didn’t think he would stop at just one, did you? 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

It’s Westeros and he is a Stark. He doesn't own toys. But modern Cregan just might. It would have to be you who asks him about it, but once you open the gates to that little kingdom, he is willing to both use them on you and on himself. His only condition would be using them together. For some reason, I think Cregan could really get his money’s worth out of a bullet vibrator. It’s nothing too adventurous, but it does require some creativity. There are other uses beyond pressing it to your clit as he fucks you. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Huge tease. Both with you and himself. He is the sort to give you charged looks across the room, eyes so dark that only with a gaze alone you feel your nipples pebbling in your bodice. He will press against you subtly during a feast, feeling how your body molds perfectly to his, before putting distance between the two of you. It’s just enough to get you squirming as you think of the delights soon to follow. 

In the actual bedroom, Cregan likes drawing things out, as I said, and the best thing to do so is to tease. He is infuriating about it. He will kiss you until you are dizzy with want, and won’t advance any further until you are begging him for it. Foreplay with him feels like the sweetest torture. 

With orgasms, it’s much worse. He is a fan of edging you, rather than overstimulation because he likes how wet and desperate you get. And since he always tries to make sure you orgasm first, it means that he is also teasing himself. One thing about him? He has perfect self-control. He will deny you both, torturing himself, until he feels it has gone on long enough. Only then, he will grant you release. 

And if you try to trick him or get around it by taking matters into your own hands? You can bet that Cregan won’t hesitate to use his strength against you, pinning your wrists down and forcing you to take exactly what he is giving you. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quiet. Cregan isn’t a man of many words. He isn’t the sort to whisper filth in your ears during sex, nor will he moan. I think he is the sort to quietly sigh and grunt instead. He is devastatingly honest, and he will be very assertive at telling you how he wants you. 

“Spread your legs a bit further. Just like that.” or “Turn over. Hands and knees, good girl.” 

I also see him being the kind of guy who talks you through your orgasm. His speech isn’t very flowery, and it’s more supportive than anything else. 

“Good, that’s it. Ride my hand, just like that. Don’t fight it.” 

When he is the one orgasming, he is probably muffling his moans by biting your shoulder or burying his face against your skin. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Cregan is obsessed with the way you smell. Blame the slightly wolfish traits of the Starks. Perfume or no perfume, he gets a whiff of your scent, and he gets a bit feral. Best way to get him in the mood? Asking him to unbraid and brush your hair. He will be unable to resist you. Loves the way your hair smells, with or without the products. He finds it soothing too, because you smell of home and love to him. If you were together when he has to march to King’s Landing, he is taking your pillowcase or some of your clothes to get him by while he is in the road. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is tall and big. I think his cock matches his height, so I would say he has a good length and girth on himself, slightly leaning toward the obscene. Shower, not grower, which is such a treat in my opinion. I think it has a nice curve too. He is very pale, so I think his cock has a bit of a flush that gets darker towards the tip. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I will only say this: In canon, he has ten children. There. Make of that what you wish. And while I will agree that there was no television in that day and age… Well. Still. 

High sex drive. I would guess there is little to do if you are snowed in, so we will give him a pass. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Quickly. Cregan is decent enough to ensure you are moderately clean and warm before he passes out right next to you. And truly, he only does so because he loves you. Cregan would pass out immediately after were it not because he fears you might get cold or find sleeping into a puddle of your combined fluids gross. Much like a bear, once he is sated, he hibernates, so if he falls asleep cuddling you, you are not going anywhere. 

[ame-to-ame]

Late night calls with friends that make you feel warm and loved, being complimented by strangers, seeing updates from gfm campaigns where ppl can safely start their new life after reaching their goal, getting progress in things I've worked hard on like nailing down a part of a new song or getting a job offer

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[kamitv]

could you write about who you think are the most touch/affection-starved of the jjk boys? the thought of them crumbling at the slightest touch and savoring every second with us makes me 🥴🥴🥴

▷ Delicate

Sypnosis . Men who fold under your touch. / Pairings . (Separate) Nanami x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Ino x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, established relationships, fluff, begging men, sensitive men, soft sex, filth, dirty talk, etc. / wc . 4.8k

A/N: Grieving over the loss of my man right now-- Gege I hate you and the air that you breathe. This was going to include more men but due to the loss of my lover, my mood was ruined and I couldn’t finish what I had for the others… Anyway, not proof-read, hope you enjoy! ^.^ [MDNI]

★ Nanami Kento

While it may be a bit... unexpected, yes, Nanami is sensitive to your touch. Each one lingers on his skin, seeps through his clothing, and tattoos itself onto him.

He's a very stoic and, usually, stern man but when it comes to you, he's almost like putty under your touch. It's intoxicating really, the way you're always caressing his arms, grabbing his hand to hold when the two of you walk or even during sex.

You're quite the touchy woman and Nanami can't say he doesn't love that about you.

When he comes home after a long day of work, you'd rush to the door to greet him, dressed in your comfort clothes from head to toe with that bright smile of yours latched to your face. Your hands are on him instantly, helping him rid himself of his coat, his tie, hell, even his shoes sometimes if you're feeling enthusiastic enough.

It's cute really. The way you help him undress as soon as he steps into the house, asking him how his day was and reciprocating with a not-so-eventful tale of your day. He's listening to your every word though, hanging off every syllable even, but you don't notice it.

Even as you guide him toward the kitchen to show him a surprise dinner you'd whipped up, you're rambling about something concerning your cooking process and he's hearing every word but, the way your fingers slip down his arms, curl around his wrist to pull him along, release him and then press into his chest to stop him from walking-- it was truly alluring.

Nanami swears he wasn't always this sensitive to touch. He doesn't know why exactly his heart swells in while you keep your hand flat on his chest, your attention on some nearby pot as you continue to talk.

You were explaining something but he'd stopped listening, his eyes all over the side of your face and soon trailing to your arm, and then to the hand you've got on him.

Nanami's hand would be moving before he even realizes, slipping so gracefully to your wrist and moving your hand off of him just to lean down a bit and plant a loving kiss across your knuckles.

"And then I almost-," His sudden kiss would make your brain freeze, head whirling in his direction to see your husband planting peck after peck before he shifts your hand to cup the side of his face and then meets your gaze.

Those gentle brown eyes of his would be so sappy and soft with you, filled with a love you can hardly comprehend as he rests his head against your palm, grinning at you. What a handsome man you've married.

You couldn't be happier as you look at him, even with the sigh that leaves you, "Kento..."

His brows would raise ever so slightly, "Hm?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?" You'd huff out. And there's this slight frustration in your voice but he loves it anyway, completely and utterly smitten for you no matter the situation.

Nanami nods, just barely, before turning his head and kissing the inside of your palm, "Mhm," He hums casually, "You were telling me how you almost burned our kitchen down."

"Yes, and..." Your eyes narrow at the man, watching how he just kisses and kisses your palm, almost as though he couldn't pull himself away, "Ken..." Your hand slips a bit and you caress his face, "Are you okay?"

His hand, much veinier and larger than yours, would come up and cup yours over his face, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Your touch is just so... soft."

That earns a smile from you, "Is it?" You'd giggle amid your question, eyes lowering at the man before you.

"Yes, it is," Nanami responds simply. Then he begins moving your hand to the side of his neck and his head tilts as he looks at you, stepping closer and closing the slight space between you and him, "I love how gentle it is, how loving, how caring."

"Oh?" Your smile widens and you move your other hand away from the, now forgotten, pot and it goes toward the buttons of his shirt, "Should I start touching you more then?"

"I implore you to, yes," Nanami huffs out, his body leaning toward yours.

You bring your lower lip into your mouth and tip your head a bit, one hand toying with the buttons of his shirt and the other caressing the side of his neck, "Since when has my touch had you this... pleading," You question, words coming out slow as his eyes drop to your lips.

Your husband takes his other hand and grabs a careful hold onto your wrist, dragging your hand further down his body and making you feel against his abs through his clothing as he leans closer to you. His free hand then moves to your waist and he tugs you to him, closing any and all space left.

"Always," Nanami confesses to you, "Your touch makes me weak, sweetheart." He explains with that gentle yet deep voice of his, always so soft when speaking to you.

You smile, "Weak?"

"Yes, weak," Nanami whispers in agreement with a steady nod of his head, eyes doting on every aspect of your facial expression.

The man was so in love and his poured out of his every gaze, brown eyes lingering on your lips long enough to silently tell you what he wanted. So, your hand steadily undoes the first button on his shirt, moving your other hand from his neck to assist yourself.

Your eyes on his the entire time, you unbutton at least four buttons before taking a finger and grazing his bare chest, watching how his breathing stutters from something so light.

Smiling, "This, Kento..." Your voice is small in a sultry whisper as you drag your finger down and down until you pass his torso and reach the hem of his pants, "This makes you, weak?" You as tauntingly just before you begin unbuckling his belt.

His heart rate quickens and he swallows loud enough for you to hear, sighing as his head weighs to the side a little, "Hahh, yes, my love," Nanami tells you, face inclining down to your own.

Your gaze and his meet and the eye contact is heavy with tension, your fingers working his belt loose before you're teasing him by just barely unbuttoning his pants and making sure your fingers caress the area below his abdomen.

Nanami's lips twitch and so badly does he want to kiss you but he's too busy hanging off the slow words leaving your lips.

"Who would've thought?" You utter, smiling at your husband, "A serious man like you crumbling to your wife's small touches."

He tilts his head further and his lips are practically on yours as he speaks, "Small or not... they're touches from my wife." He emphasises just before giving you but a small peck on the lips.

You hum, "I suppose."

And then you're finally kissing him, lips molding into one another and his body melting to the feel of you. Oh how Nanami loves the way your lips part for his tongue to push through, the way you kiss him back with just as much passion as he approaches you with, and how warm and savory the inside of your mouth is.

Soft smacks emit from the two of your lips sliding over one another, your husband nipping at your lower lip and quick to kiss you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Then his hands are grabbing a firm hold of your waist, silently telling you that you're his to hold and touch however he feels.

His fingers, large, veiny, and thick, feel you through the fabric of your top, unable to pry off of you once he's got you in his grasp.

Then, into your mouth so very lowly, h's grunting, "Undress me," Nanami orders as he slightly steps forward with you.

You step back accordingly and your hands are flying back up, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and feeling him up afterward as you start slipping the item off of his body.

"Like this? Hm?" You whisper back to him as his shirt hangs off of him, his hands gripping onto you tighter and tighter whilst he walks you backward and out of the kitchen.

His voice makes your knees weak as his mouth detaches from yours and drops to your neck while you move to finally get his slacks off, "Yes, like that. Good girl," Nanami praises against your neck, soft but hot kisses making you gasp.

With your voice all breathy and your feet and hands stumbling with the large eager man before you, "C'mon Ken, at least make it to the bedroom," You murmur, his pants loose on his hips as he bulge brushes against your front.

"I'm trying." He groans, breath simmering into the crook of your neck before his tongue is felt against you.

You can't help but giggle, "You're trying?"

"Yes," He huffs out, voice hinted with this tune you rarely hear from him too often.

You're walking back and back until you bump into a wall for a second, your bedroom door now to your right as Nanami marks up your neck messily. Then you snicker, "Mmmh, I like you like this, Kento," You comment, to which he sighs.

Then he's off your neck and moving you to walk backward into your bedroom, clearly no longer patient.

Cocking his head to the side, "Like what?" Nanami asks curiously.

You shrug and the back of your legs hit the front of your bed, "Desperate, almost," You hum, brows furrowing a bit.

Nanami helps you settle yourself onto the mattress completely before he's crawling on top of you, shrugging his shirt completely off of his body and revealing his full chiseled physique to you.

"Starved?" He asks, trying to find the word you were looking for.

You shake your head and then it comes to you, your arms wrapping around his neck and tugging him down to you before you whisper, "Craving."

Nanami gazes at you for a long moment, simply taking you in before nodding his head slowly, "Craving, yes." He agrees.

Then, another long press of his lips to yours is made and your legs are adjusted to wrap around his waist, Nanami wanting any and all parts of you on him now.

His lips shift to the left a little and he kisses the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and then he drops to your neck again, making you do nothing more than smile as his hands work to get your clothes off of you.

Your top is soon removed, bottoms followed soon after, all of which is discarded to the floor somewhere before Nanami's kissing you again and forcing your hands to be on him.

"Run your fingers through my hair," He murmurs, directing one of your hands to his blonde locks of hair. Then, he takes the other hand and moves it to wrap around his neck, "Scratch my back while I fuck you," Nanami whispers, works making your breathing unsteady while he suddenly grinds his hard cock down into you, "Try pushing me away when it becomes too much, I don't care, just want your hands on me, okay?"

His directions had you hot all over, pupils dilated already, breathing heavy from his constant kisses, and your hands quick to run along his tensed skin before you nod with an obedient, "Yes sir." Leaving you.

Nanami just barely smiles and you feel his heavy cock twitch against you, "What'd I tell you about that?"

"I don't remember," You whipser, your fingers slipping down from his hair to caress his jawline and then pulling his face closer to your own, "Remind me, sir."

There's a smile on his face as his lips finally near your own again, "You'll be the death of me one day." Nanami utters to you lovingly.

And maybe one day you will.

But tonight?

Tonight you are nothing more than a hole for him to fill as he soon grunts into your ear telling you how good your cunt feels around him, telling you how pretty you look taking his cock, and moaning out how much he loves the way you touch him.

★ Choso Kamo

You always knew he was sensitive to your touch. Look at him. No, literally, look at the man. He's not sensitive to everything but your touch is most definitely his weakness.

You once gave the man nothing more than a handjob and he was cumming all over the damn place. You're not sure if you've ever seen your boyfriend so... whiney.

Choso had his legs spread like a slut for you as you sat oh so prettily beside him, fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking him torturously slow. Your thumb would caress his bulging veins, fingers would twirl around his fat tip, tap and slip in between the slit of his cock, teasing him.

And since you were sitting beside him, your breasts would graze the side of his arm, making him flinch over and over. You had him so tense, so sweaty, so loud.

Choso didn't even know he could moan this much just from someone's hand. He's jerked himself off plenty of times but when you do it, it's like blood rushes to both his head and his cock, his vision would blur, and his breathing would grow unsteady.

Maybe it's because of how you had teased him beforehand, running your manicured nails along his inner thigh as the two of you tried to watch a movie together. Only for your hand to accidentally graze his dick, somehow groping him through his clothing and then turning to look at him.

That was when he began to sweat buckets, cock springing up under your palm at one measly little touch and his breath hitching.

Then he was whispering a gruff little, "Baby," Making you smile as you did nothing but innocently bat your lashes at him. To which he'd tip his head back against the couch and swallow, "Stop teasin'..."

You then scooted closer to him, your thigh touching his as your voice neared his ear, "I barely even touched you, Cho," You had whispered, watching how even in the dim lighting, his face grew red and he struggled to keep his composure.

Turning his head to you, Choso was quick to meet your eyes with a low and desperate gaze, lids dimming, brows tensing, and breathing heavy. "Then touch me more, please." He requested quietly, deep voice making your cunt jump with excitement.

You quickly switched hands so that you could turn your torso to him, which was when your breast pressed into his arm and your hand then moved to work his cock out.

And yes, in minutes he was cumming in your hand, making such an embarrassing mess of your fingers. Your hand was so soft, jerking his twitching cock off so perfectly.

Choso was groaning into the air like he couldn't control it, "H-Hahh, aagh, baby-, baby fuck, y-your ha-hahh, hand-," His voice... squeaks? as he says that last word, pitching so deliciously that you have to squeeze your thighs together as you watch him tense up yet again, "S-Shit, m'gonna cum again," Choso breathed out through gritted teeth.

He was so sexy all sensitive and tense for you, making you smile as you watched his face twist up and his eyes flicker every time you focused your palm on his tip.

"Again, Cho? You're makin' such a mess, baby," You coo softly, breath just barely hitting his ear and adding on to the numerous things he was feeling.

His head was spinning at this point and he couldn't stop himself from watching your, much smaller, hand jerk him off, from quick pulls and tugs to slow drags and caresses, to twisting and rolling-- Choso was both in a daze and high off of watching you stroke his aching cock.

God damn you knew how to use your hand. You knew where he was sensitive, knew what to do and how to do it.

His cock was wet with cum and your hand just slide up and down and up and down, the sloppy sound filling the entire space and adding onto his arousal. Cum was slipping in between your fingers, all down to his balls-- shit, he really did make a mess.

It was nasty but... he liked it that way.

"P-Princess, fuuck, please," His voice was cracking, breaking because of you, eyes tearing up as your hand only got faster and faster, "Fuck fuck, please d-don't stop." He pants out, head flying back against the couch as his thighs closed and opened, almost like he wanted it all to end and yet continue at the same time.

Watching him had your body hot, there was a pulse coming from in between your legs and you had half the urge to get down on your knees and just suck him off since he was being so damn whiney.

But at the same time, you couldn't stop your hand. Not when he was about to cum again, not when you were about to drag the sound you were looking for out of him.

"Y'like that, Cho?" Such a simple question you murmured to him and yet it broke him.

Nodding all needily and fucked out, "Yes baby, yesyesyes," He gasps, abs tensing as your hand just would stop. You wouldn't let up on him for even a second and it was killing him, "F-Fuck I like it s'much-, I like you- love you," He corrects, struggling and stumbling over all his words, "Love your fuckin' hand-"

His jaw drops and the groan that leaves him comes from deep within his throat, "Ohmygoddd, fuck," Oh he was babbling for you, thoughts whirling, voice cracking and high pitched with you.

Then his lips quivered and that's when that noice came out. Such a cute, whiney, and filthily obscene whimper slipped out of his mouth, eyes at the back of his damn skull as he came all over your hand again.

And you had the nerve to talk him through it, whispering sweet, "That's it baby," To him and making him pant and his breathing stutter, your hand still going.

Choso couldn't formulate proper sentences with you anymore, barely chanting an almost silent I love you over and over until your hand stopped and his dick finally calmed down.

★ Ino Takuma

Is this even surprising?

Of course your cute boyfriend Ino is sensitive and affectionate starved. Sometimes he tries to act like your touch doesn't faze him but the very second it leaves him, he's giving you these doe-eyes and moving to put your hand back on him.

And it's just perfect for him that you enjoy touching him a lot. You're almost always hugging him or grabbing his face to pull him in for a kiss and he loves it.

So whenever you're away for a few hours, his body aches for you. You'd have your nails done too so that was something he enjoyed feeling more than ever, loving how your fingernails would run through his hair as he laid on your thighs or even in between them, face stuffed into your cunt.

Either way, Ino loved your touches and yes he craves it when you're not around.

So whenever the two of you do meet up, you're always running up to him, throwing your arms up and around his neck, laughing and smiling about how much you missed him.

Then you'd always tug that beanie off of his head, telling him how much you enjoy it when his hair is out and teasing him about looking silly with the accessory on.

He'd shrug off your comment and then as soon as you turn away from him, his arms are draping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder and crotch pressing into your ass.

Your body would freeze in place as you feel something familiarly hard poking at your ass, turning your head to your boyfriend who you've barely even touched so far and raising a brow at him, "Takuma..." You'd utter softly, earning a grin from him.

"Hm? Somethin' wrong?" He'd ask casually, as if there's not a painful boner in his pants all because you'd hugged him.

"You tell me," You tease, moving out of his hold and turning your body around to face your boyfriend as you cross your arms.

He quickly raises a hand to the back of his neck to scratch, chuckling nervously, "I'm not sure what y'want me to say?" He hums plauyfully.

You tilt your head and him and sigh before moving to point at his crotch, "How about you start with explaining that."

Ino's head drops to look at where you're pointing to, laughing as soon as he sees himself, "Oh, that. Yeah, no, that's uh, that's nothing, really-," His head lifts and you've gotten all close to him again, head angled upward slightly to meet his gaze and your stare making him swallow all his words down with a loud gulp.

Your hand then moves in almost slow motion and you place but a single finger to his chin, tipping his face down some more to get a good look at him and then smiling. "Y'know you can ask me to help you, right? I am your girlfriend, remember?" You whisper.

He starts nodding like he's hanging off of your words, eyes set on your lips and his breathing picked up just because you've got a finger on his chin. "M-Mhm, I uh," He blinks a few times to gather himself, "I know."

You smile and step even closer, your body just barely touching his, "Takuma," You whisper yet again, causing a shiver to slip down his spine.

He was so nervous because of you, "Lover," He hums back.

A chuckle slips past you, "Lover? That's cute."

"Y'like that one? I've been brainstormin' pet names recently," Ino tells you happily, his voice soft with you due to the lack of distance between you and him.

"Yeah, that one's cute," You whisper as your lips near his, "But uh, we're not just gonna skip past this," You emphasize as your hand palms at his erection, making his breath hitch.

Ino's brows tense and so does the rest of his body, "Y'gonna take care of it, baby?" He whispers to you, eyes softening at you as you peer up at him so tentatively.

"You want me to?" You utter back, batting your eyes at him and feeling on his cock through his clothing.

"Yeah," Ino nods out, to which you give him this look and he swallows, quick to correct himself, "Yes... please."

Smiling, "How do you want me to take care of it, hm? On my knees? With my hand?"

Ino barely knows how to even answer your question, it always makes him nervous when you take the lead, not that it doesn't happen often but most times anything sexual between you two just occurs mutually.

There's not always someone in the lead and it's usually just the two of you trying to make the other feel good. Which is enjoyable of course but when you're like this? Asking him what he wants and yet telling him what you're going to do through your gaze?

Oh he's almost the one on his knees for you.

Which is how you ended up later sitting behind your boyfriend, head peering over his shoulder and arms wrapped around him so that your pretty hands could work up and down his cock.

He hardly remembers how he got into this position with you or what he said for you to even want to do this but, here he was; face red, moans pouring out, hips bucking up into your touch, eyes lidded and struggling to keep up with watching the way your two hands groped and jerked at his cock perfectly.

Your fingers and his dick glistened with spit and precum, the sounds of you giving him the best handjob he could ever have asked for loud throughout the room.

"Oh baby," Ino whines out, eyes nearly shut as he tries his hardest not to squirm too much, "That feels so fuckin' good, holy shit."

"Yeah?" You smile, "My hands feel good?" The taunting behind your words made his cock throb in your hands, slim veins bulging against your palms and making you snicker.

Ino nods his head needly, "M-Mhmm, fuck-," He gasps, voice lagging behind as he tries his best to answer you properly.

You start kissing the side of his neck and he swears his head is spinning. He doesn't even know what to focus on at this point. Your hands on his cock? Your lips on the side of his neck? Your breasts pressed into his back?

It was all too much for him, making his knees bend just for his legs to extend out seconds later, his mouth just open with moans of your name and not-so-silent whines slipping out. Did he want it to go on forever or stop as soon as possible?

Fuck, and then there was you heavy breathing against him, almost as if you were aroused by this too-

Holy shit you were. You were probably soaked just because you're busy getting your boyfriend off using those pretty hands of yours. Ino's on cloud nine just thinking about how wet your cunt probably is, his moans getting louder and louder as second pass.

Up until he can't take it anymore and he moans your name, "B-Baby, fuck, needa' feel you, please."

"Hm?" You giggle softly, though it's noticeably more breathy than usual, "You are feelin' me though?" You point out as your hands tighten around his cock.

Ino's head rests back a bit and he pants, babbling out his desperations more clearly for you, "No baby, your pussy, come put it on me, please." He huffs out.

You cunt twitches at his words and you whisper his name, "Takuma...."

"Please?" Your boyfriend begs, gulping afterward to catch his breath for a moment, "J-Just... oh fuck, let me feel you, taste you, fuck you, anything baby, please?"

"Shit, okay, okay," Is the last thing you say before you too folded under pressure and moved.

Then you were on top of him, his eyes glossy as he watched you above him. Neither of you are sure which was more stimulating, you jerking him off or what you're doing now.

Which was rubbing nothing more than his tip against your slick hole, dragging him back and forth and back and forth in between your sopping folds. His tip was glazed in your arousal and his own, both of you moaning softly at the tease of it all.

It was somehow almost better than sex itself. You liked teasing him like this and he loved being teased. Ino was in a daze, trying his hardest not to cum at the sight of you forcing his needy cock against your pussy.

Your cunt looked so fucking delicious, so wet, so warm, he wanted to be inside you so bad and that's what was arousing him right now-- the temptation to just thrust his hips up into you and finally sink his inches deep inside you.

There was a light wet and sloppy sound that followed your languid movements, his cock slipping inside of you every now and then and making you practically start drooling for it.

It was taking everything in you not to just plop down and start bouncing on his cock like you normally would but when you looked at Ino's face and saw him panting and quietly whimpering-- you knew he was about to cum and you didn't want to stop.

Rocking your pussy over his tip over and over and over and over again until he was struggling to gasp for air, hissing out a cry of your name over and over, trying to warn you.

But instead of stopping, you whine, "C'mon, cum f'me," And then he is, and his cock is leaking in cum before he can even comprehend it, never realizing how sensitive his body was to you until now.

You always kinda knew he was sensitive and sure, you rubbing his cock against your pussy was pleasurable but it really surprised you how much he came from the action.

Smirking as he comes down from his high, you then lean to him and kiss him before whispering, "Good boy," To which his jaw drops a bit and you're angling his cock to slip inside you, "Now, hurry up 'nd please your girlfriend," You huff out.

And he's nodding without a second thought, "Yes ma'am-, fuck, whatever you want, pretty girl."

[bumpkinspice0]

Office Hours

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A few months into working back at the mansion and Logan still can't keep his hands off you. A/N: This is vaguely tied to my other Logan fic "No One Knows…" but not at all required reading. All you need to really know is reader is a returning X-Man that can control Earth/ rocks and is codenamed Dozer (Short for Bulldozer) Warnings: S M U T, medium plot??? but mostly just porn, established relationship, under desk blowjobs, office sex, light dom/ sub, a single spank possessive Logan (Someone needs to put me down)

AO3 if you prefer to read there

Logan Masterlist

_______

The morning light pours in through the windows of your bedroom. Logan holds you close against him in bed while you, less than enthusiastically, try to squirm out of his grasp.

A few months back into your old life at X-mansion and you can confidently say it was the best decision you’d ever made in a long, long time. All the kids returned to a brand new environmental science teacher and a newly reconstructed mansion that somehow looked almost exactly the same— give or take a few changes to the gardens.

You’d missed this, you missed being part of the X team, whether it was as an X-Man or just a teacher. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making a real tangible difference in people's lives. 

Yes, you desperately wanted to return to your roots and start over— but he was also a nice perk to all the chaos. 

Your relationship with Logan was just as new as your employment in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. He reeled you in like a fish on a hook. Whatever the two of you had, it was nice. You think it had been a long time since he had something like this too. Someone to care for. Someone to please. 

Neither of you could keep your hands off each other. 

It was too early for ‘I love you’s’ or to declare something like moving in together, but he already spent most nights in your room as it was. If he didn’t spend the night he’d find you in the early morning just to hear you moan his name. That boy was determined never to let you sleep— not that you’re really complaining.

You’d never had a lover like Logan. Someone so… starved. He craved your touch, rambled on about your scent, and held you on the edge for what felt like hours. It was all new and some parts of it, admittedly, a little weird, but fuck was it exciting. 

You’d started a new life for yourself, more or less. Started over, more accurately. And he was there to soften all the blows. You hope you did the same for him. 

You can’t believe you thought he ever had ulterior motives about you when you came back. Once you found out you both had more similar pasts than you’d realized, you were sure the only thing he'd want was information from you. How glad you were to be wrong. 

Victims of the same cruelty but you were both different. You still had your memories. Your identity. He didn't. 

You vowed to help find out who he was, and that seemed to mean more to him than anything— but it was a slow process. Old information and long abandoned facilities. Still, you had each other through all of this and that helped the pain, just a little. Facing your demons together. 

Right now, however, Logan was your only tangible demon. He still had you trapped in bed and late for class. 

“Just a quickie,” he purrs, nibbling at your ear.  

“I have a class to teach in 20 minutes. You should have gotten here earlier,” You muster up any strength you have against him, “And it’s never quick with you.”

“Or you just don’t want it to be quick,” His mouth finds your bare shoulder, already marked with week's worth of love bites from him. You can’t deny the trill of excitement it sends through you.

This fucking man. 

You want to. Lord in heaven, you really, really want to. Sometimes this being a responsible mentor thing got in the way.

“Logan…” You push lightly against his chest. It’s not much of a protest, really. None of your weak-willed squirming was.

“Okay… okay,” His grip around your waist finally loosens and you reluctantly get out of bed. He gives your ass a playful spank as you do. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You scold him with a smile as you dig through your dresser for anything that was clean. 

“Got a good reason to be,” He grins, resting his arms behind his head and stretching out over the bed. You can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks. Logan never missed an opportunity to compliment you. 

You, a little reluctantly, pull on a pair of jeans and one of his white shirts. Slowly but surely all your laundry was getting intermingled to the point of no return. That and you know he always liked when you wore something of his. You don’t think any of your own tee-shirts were clean anyway.

Yeah, it’s probably time to do laundry. 

You top it off with a loose black cardigan to seem somewhat teacherly. You gather your folders with today’s syllabus. You had three classes today. Logan usually had two— if you could you really call PE and survival basics a class. The kids usually just roped him and Kurt into playing flag football with them. It was adorable in its own Logany way.

“I’ll see you out there, Professor Logan,” you give him a peck on the forehead before shimming on your shoes. 

“God, don’t ever call me that again.” He chuckles, covering his face with his forearm.

“Would you prefer daddy?”

His hand immediately drops, “Don’t tempt me, darlin’.”

You’re at the door now, giving yourself one last moment to admire the perfect man sprawled out in your bed.

“Don’t sleep in too late,” you open the door. 

“See you out there, toots.”

______

There are only a few more warm days left in fall and you refuse to let them go to waste. You always liked holding classes outside anyway. This was Environmental Science after all. As an earthmover, it always felt natural. Feeling the actual ground under your feet made everything easier to teach in a way. 

You’re teaching the different types of erosion this week. The class is gathered on the grass on the edge of the pond as you hover different rocks around them. Examples of river-smoothed stones, bed clay, and a few from the Grand Canyon you’d brought in from your personal collection. 

You’d never thought of yourself as the best teacher but the kids seemed to at least enjoy the theatricality. You knew dirt. You knew the earth, and that seemed to be enough.

You hear the PE class run out onto the other side of the lawn, Logan dutifully following behind them. You don’t even need to look to feel his eyes on you. You're not sure if you're irritated by the distraction or think it’s a little cute he wants to be near you.

Well, if he’s going to distract you and your class, you might as well distract him. The kids had started a game of frisbee golf, something his full attention didn’t need to be on anyway.  Logan always joked he was just a glorified babysitter. You take off your cardigan when you feel a small gust of wind. His head immediately snaps your direction when you do. 

He’d told you before he liked the mix of your scents. The more animalistic part of him liked it anyway. He always seemed ashamed of it, despite your insistence you didn’t care. You could never truly understand, sure, but that didn’t change your feelings for him. Besides, you didn’t mind feeding the animal every once in a while. 

You’d reached the end of your class period and quickly dismissed your students, reminding them of the homework as they scurried back into the mansion. You remain outside, cleaning up the small mess your lesson had made. 

You still feel Logan’s eyes on you. You can’t help the excitement his gaze stirs in you. Logan did something to you no other man had ever done— he made you feel desirable in ways you’d never experienced. 

It was an incredible turn-on, to say the least.

You feel your panties slowly start to wetten. You see a shift in his posture in the distance. You smile, bending over to pick up the loose papers you’d left on a nearby bench. You pause there far longer than you needed to— just a small tease but you know it’s something that’ll drive you crazy. He always said he liked you in these jeans the most.

You feel his eyes burning into your back the entire walk to the mansion. You can’t help but smile.

______

You're leaning against the front of your desk, looking over tomorrow's lesson, when you hear his signature booming steps hurrying down the hallway. It’d been an hour since your last class ended. He enters the office, closing the door behind him immediately. 

“Professor Logan,” You greet him teasingly, leaning back against the desk. 

He says nothing as he stalks towards you with heavy steps, crashing his mouth into yours. You pull him in as he inserts his body between your legs. His mouth is hungry against yours— desperate even. His lips trail down to your jaw.

“You think you’re cute, huh? Prancing around in my clothes, showing off your ass, gettin’—”

“I’m very cute,” you giggle as he nips at you.

He growls, pulling you up to lead you back to the desk chair. He liked it when you sat on his lap. It was both of your lunch breaks. You’d always spend them together, though usually not in your shared office.

Charles required everyone to have office hours, even Logan. He fought it every step of the way until he finally relented to just sharing yours. He was almost never here. He didn’t have a reason to be— well unless you were there. His desk sits across from yours just as bare as the day it was put in. Yours, on the other hand, was quickly cluttering as the school year went on.

“Still worked up from this morning,” Logan admits as he nips at your lip, “Need you, sweet thing.”

Absolutely insatiable.

“Poor boy,” You tease, your hands slowly trailing down to his obnoxious belt buckle. “I’ll take care of you.”

You always liked to tease him more than you’d care to admit. He’d get so worked up over the smallest things. You were always happy to indulge him… every fucking time. 

You sink down to your knees, pulling his jeans with you. His cock bulges out against his boxers, already hard and waiting. You palm at him, giving him a rough squeeze through the fabric. He hums in approval. God, he always felt so good.

There’s almost a sigh of relief when you pull him free. You give him a few rough strokes before your tongue follows, trailing up from his base and swirling around his tip, pre cum already leaking free. His rough hands grip your hair as you lavish his cock with your tongue. 

You pause at the tip, placing a single feather light kiss before taking him completely into your mouth. He chokes out a strangled moan, doing his best to stay quiet. Luckily, the walls of the mansion were thick. 

The grip in your hair tightens as you find a rhythm. 

“T-that's it,” his voice is shaky, dripping with pleasure, “Just like that. Good girl.”

He always praised you. Whether giving or receiving, he always made sure you felt seen. 

A part of this excited you so much. It was scandalous, having him splayed out like this at your work desk, doing your best to suppress the moans that brew in your throat from the thrill of it all. You loved making him fall apart. This was just as much for him as it was for you. You were both having fun. Both acting like giddy, horny, little teenagers. 

His grip in your hair shifts, and you feel him tense under you. He can’t be close already? Before you have time to ask what’s going on you’re being shoved underneath your own desk. You want to scream what the absolute fuck?! before you hear the office door being clicked open.

“Logan?” It's Scott’s voice. 

“What?” Logan bites out, leaning over the front of the desk to conceale you completely. Thank god Charles always insisted on these massive solid oak desks.

“I’m just— You’re sitting at Dozer’s desk,” Scott stammers out. 

“Had something I needed,” he quickly lied. 

You’re cramped into a wooden box basically, one of the walls being made out of thick muscled legs with a heavy cock still hanging between them. You were playing a game with Logan, might as well make it more interesting. 

“Have you seen her?” Scott asks, “I needed—”

“No.” Logan only grits out, “She’s probably down in the—”

He cuts himself off the moment your hand grasps his cock again. You can’t help but smile when you run your tongue back up the velvet length. He can’t move his arms because that would expose you. He can’t move his legs because there’s not enough room with you between them. He’s stuck here while you torture him in the sweetest way possible. You don’t miss the way his cock jumps when you take him back into your mouth. 

“She’s where Logan?” Scott, blissfully unaware, prompts him.

“I don’t— I don’t fucking know,” You swear you can almost feel him shaking with the effort to keep his voice steady, “Why don’t you go fucking look for her then, huh?”

There isn’t as much room to move your head as you’d like, so you let your tongue and hands do most of the work. 

“Well, can I just get on her computer?” You hear Scott take a step closer. Oh no, “I just need a—”

“Piss off, Summers!” He practically growls it out. “You need her then go fucking find her.”

You hear Scott scoff as he takes a step back. To be fair, this was completely in character for the two of them. It was doubtful Scott suspected anything. You reach up and give Logan’s balls a gentle fondle while you worship his tip with your tongue as silently as you can.

Finally, you hear Scott retreat to the hallway. 

“I don’t know why she’s with you, Logan. I really don’t.” He spits before slamming the door behind him. 

Logan doesn’t waste a second once the door is closed again, pushing the chair back and grabbing your face roughly. His cock falls from your mouth with a wanton gasp. You must look like a mess but can’t bring yourself to care.

He just holds you there for a moment, your mouth just inches away from his cock. His eyes have glossed over with lust. He loved this, you know he fucking loved this because you did too. 

“You’re trouble,” he says, pulling you both to standing, “You’re so much fucking trouble.”

He turns you around and bends you over the desk immediately, a few pencil cups shaking with the force. He yanks down your jeans a little rougher than you’d like but you still kick them off the rest of the way. Your underwear still remained in place. He kicks your legs wider and trails a hand up your back, pressing his palm down between your shoulders. His other hand drips between your legs, a finger rubbing over your clothed pussy.

“Fucking soaked through already?” he purrs. “You get wet sucking my cock, baby?”

“Yes.” It practically comes out as a plea. Well, it’s only fair he’s toying with you now. Your legs are almost shaking in anticipation. 

You squirm as he starts to rub the damp fabric directly over your clit. His hand on your back presses you down harder, pinning you in place. He’s doing what you did to him— in his own way. Trapped at his mercy. 

He pushes your underwear to the side, two fingers running through your slick folds a few times before delving in. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, barely successful in silencing yourself. He curls his fingers, back and forth as he works his hand up and down. Anyone could walk in that door at any moment. Logan would stop if he heard anyone coming again—right?

“You know what you do to me?” His voice is ragged, almost pained, “Fuck, do you have any idea?”

His pace is speeding up and your restraint is slipping, but there’s nothing you can do to get out of this. And, fuck you don’t want him to stop either. You’re completely his right now. 

You finally let out a wail when rips his hand out of your cunt and slaps it across your ass. His touch stays there, gripping the stinging skin, sharp pain quickly melting to the pleasure that was racking your whole body. He takes his other hand off your back. You don’t move, your stomach stirring in anticipation.

It feels better than it should when his hard, massive cock runs over your soaked pussy. He’d dialed up all of your nerves to eleven. You involuntarily ach back into him like a fucking bitch in heat.

“Oh Christ, why are you with me…” he lines himself up, “That’s what Summers said, right? He doesn’t know why you’re with me?”

“Logan—” You attempt to speak up before the air in your lungs vanishes when he thrusts inside of you in one jarring motion. He stays there a good moment, grinding his hips into your ass, gathering himself. God, he was so fucking deep. He draws out and slams back in again. You hear the desk creaking in protest this time, several items falling off. 

He leans over you, hot tongue trailing up your spine before nuzzling his face in next to your ear. 

“I know why,” He starts to roll his hips against yours. His imposing body and magic dick were taking over every sense you had. God, you wish you could scream. “It’s because you know no one else can fuck you like I can. Can take care of you like I can.”

He nips at your ear as he finds a pace, tiny low grunts escaping in rhythm with his hips. This was just as much about dominating you as it was about being as close to you as humanly possible. Mixing your scents and desires together until the line is blurred between the two. Yes, Logan fucked you unlike anyone else had, and your certain better than anyone else ever could, but he also loved you harder than you ever knew possible. 

Loyal to a fault. It’s instincts, he always said. You always hated when he compared himself to an animal, but in a lot of ways it's just part of who he was. He seemed past trying to deny it and embrace it in his own way. Let the beast free, so to speak. 

“Tell me,” He growls into your ear, “Tell me who makes you feel this good.”

You struggled to form the single-word answer, but it eventually came out, whined and shaky. 

“Y-y-you,” you swear you’re drooling, “O-only you, b-baby. O-only—” You trail off, likely losing all brain function to the intoxicating filth of it all. 

“That’s right. T-that’s right,” he chants a few times like he’s fucking praising himself for it, “Only me. You’re all mine. I’m all yours.”

You’re not sure if it’s a gasp of surprise or pain that escapes you when he lifts you both. He holds you against him, still fucking you while you’re both standing. You’re forced to stand on your tiptoes, your hands grasping onto the forearm around your chest for any sense of balance. You weighed nothing to him. He’s still fucking you senseless. He’s holding you both up and still fucking you senseless.

You swear you go blind when his other hand snakes down to your clit. 

“Shoulda stayed in bed this morning,” His stubble rubs against your cheek, “Wouldn’t have to fuck you like this if we— shit— if we had time this morning.”

“L–Logan, I–I—” You start to warn him but can’t manage to get it all out. Nevertheless, you’re sure he knows. He always knows when you’re close. You feel it, the mounting pressure at your core. Sweet, precious relief. 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

It hits you like a train, hard and almost completely by surprise. The hand around your chest immediately comes up to clamp around your mouth. You scream against his palm while he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, practically using you like a goddamn sex toy at this point. 

He mutters out a string of curses while he attempts to maintain his equilibrium— and eventually fails. He collapses back into the chair behind him, dragging you with him. He almost slips out. Almost. He holds you close against his chest, hips completely still against your ass as he pulses rope after rope into you.

“Good girl, good girl,” you hear him muttering into your neck like a prayer. 

Your haggard moans into his hand eventually fade into one long heavy sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax against him. You feel his body unwind as well, his previously firm hand over your mouth coming to stroke your cheek. His lips lull around your neck, placing sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss wherever he could reach. He was always so gentle after sex. Those hands that were so rough just a moment ago gently glide over your skin. You always find comfort in their heft. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you finally ask, leaning your head back against his. 

“Fuck ‘em if they did,” he nuzzles himself right under your jaw. Close— he always had to be so close. 

“Charles is gonna fire us if he ever finds out,” you bring your hands up to your face, rubbing into your eyes just a little too hard.

“You can’t fire an X-Man.”

“Teachers, Logan, we’re teachers.” Ah good, the mortification was settling in just in time to ruin the moment. Fabulous. 

“Stop it,” you swear you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“He’s gonna read our minds and see what absolute animals we are and he’s gonna fire us.” The irony that you're saying this out loud while Logan is still fully inside you in your shared office is not lost on you. You feel his chest bouncing against your back, chuckling lightly at your dismay of your surely oncoming termination. You can’t help but laugh along with him, just a little. 

You eventually untangle your bodies and fish your pants off the floor. Maybe you had time for a shower before your next class. Christ, you need one. Logan wasn’t the only mutant with advanced senses in the school and the last thing you need is teenagers starting a rumor mill about two teachers fucking in their office. Still, when you look back at Logan you know you’d do it all over again regardless.

Whatever this was with him, whatever you’d started, you know you can’t stop it. The thought should terrify you, but for once you’re not afraid.

You reach out and grab his hand, “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

[diushek]

Shen Yuan is a young demon prince from a rather unimportant kingdom; actually, his kingdom and his race of humanoid demon-snakes are actually so unimportant and unimpressive that not even Emperor Luo Binghe had been interested in getting the lands, or control of the kingdom... Or any of the princes! Of course they are loyal to the Emperor and serve under him, but... Luo Binghe hadn't tried anything!! Not even once!!!

Not that Shen Yuan is offended, though, the Emperor's HUGE harem is a crazy thing... He doesn't really want to be there nor anything like that. But it can't be a little hurt in his pride that the kingdom he grew up in and adores is so uninteresting to someone like the Emperor.

However, the final straw comes when Luo Binghe marries an Eastern Bird Demon Princess. Yes, she may be pretty as a painted doll, but the Eastern Bird Demons have shitty behavior! They are less interesting than Demon Snakes, much more flattering and fragile, conflictive and above all hypocritical! They don't even have their own venom or are capable of hunting their own prey!! They were just tasteless birds with huge tits and wings that shouldn't allow them to fly because of their anatomical inaccuracy!

"If you're so upset with Junshang's marriage decisions, why don't you marry him?" his younger sister says one day, fed up with Shen Yuan's ramblings. And Shen Yuan thinks, well, it's not a bad idea. Even if his sister didn't mean it at all...

But Shen Yuan KNOWS that he really needs to get the Emperor's attention before he just walks up and says "we have to get married, Junshang, because I find it disrespectful for you to marry with all the boring demons in the realms except my type. Which just happens to be me and not my older brothers or younger sister. I'm the only one willing to fix this."

... No, he would be dead before he even said Junshang correctly. So Shen Yuan must... Conquer the Emperor's heart!

Well, considering the huge harem, it's not a difficult task apparently. He will only have to pay for some rumors and stories of how some wives got to that place, prepare lots of court gifts and organize a big engagement party. After all Shen Yuan is very persistent and, above all, patient. He will obtain the Emperor's hand in marriage, and prove that his kingdom is not some insignificant little thing that can't even get the Emperor's attention!!

...

And one day, Luo Binghe starts to be attacked with stranges gifts.

They arrive at his office by confused royal assistants. And those gifts are the rarest and most expensive ones: swords made of crystal bone of an abyssal creature of the rarest kind, flowers with letters which explain all the effects on the cultivation of mixed-blood creatures, venom from a mythical beast thought to be extinct that can be consumed and used as a spice in recipes (which was accompanied by long letters containing strange cooking recipes that Luo Binghe had never heard of, and a more personal letter claiming that it would keep the Emperor entertained, since his mysterious penpal had heard that he enjoyed cooking).

The gifts keep coming, but they get stranger and stranger each time.

Crowns and hair jewelry of reverse reef corals, hairbrushes of mythical blue jade? Handmade perfume floral and exquisite that gave him peace just by smelling it? The essence of a flower that a single drop mixed with dry powder would work as the longest lasting eye paint?

Even silver scales of some demon presented with rubies and diamonds in the embroidery of a... wedding robe??? Exactly being the emperor's measurements????

Someone is... courting Luo Binghe? With useful and exquisite gifts, letters full of excessive details of someone erudite and chaotic, all with that strange air of mystery and power behind it? The servants who leave the gifts are mysterious, pale-featured and somewhat serpentine; Luo Binghe finds it strange to think that this kingdom is behind all this. Why would they do this if after of all, is the kingdom from which his cousin comes? Why would a kingdom that Luo Binghe is already a blood ally with want to deepen an alliance?

But that doesn't take away the absolute surprise that Luo Binghe feels with every gift, the way that every day he wait for something, even if it is a detail, a flower, a letter, anything. Luo Binghe, the Emperor of the Three Realms... is being courted for the first time.

He had courted all of his wives effortlessly some and with ease others. They had, of course, exchanged gifts with him in addition to the pleasures of their company… but none had even attempted to return the courtship. Luo Binghe had never considered it an offense, of course; before being an Emperor, he was a nobody. Now that he was an Emperor, he was just taking from the world what was his.

Being courted was not something Luo Binghe had given much thought to. Now, however, he is being courted by some anonymous suitor seeking his attention, and Luo Binghe doesn't understand why or how the hell he no longer has his future spouse at his desk, probably leaning on it, so Luo Binghe can lavish his attentions to thanks for every detail.

If it was his turn to be the sweet maiden who is courted and pays with his body and attentions, at that moment, even if he doesn't know who the hell his suitor is, Luo Binghe is definitely very interested.

[micer2012]

a reflection on MatPat's plagiarism

Hello, my name is Della, or micer2012, and 2 years ago Game Theory plagiarized three Tumblr posts of mine, making a video that now holds almost 6 million views.

My posts explaining his plagiarism made their rounds on Reddit, Tumblr and Twitter, but despite the Hermits and Pooka commenting on it (generally in support of me or saying they don’t know enough details about the situation to say either way), MatPat and his team have never owned up to anything, and no mention of my name is present on the video. The one Reddit post they made denying it (which was made before my detailed takedown, which they have never responded to (though the mods on the r/GameTheorists Reddit were kind and made sure it stayed up)) didn’t even mention me by name, just referring to me as “a tumblr user”. (Though one of the screenshotted comments in the body of the post does say my name)

This experience was baffling, but it’s overall had a positive impact on my life. r/Hermitcraft gave me a Golden Apple Award (post of the year, 2021). My inbox was filled with excited fans, wanting to ask me questions or pose their own theories, far more than the hate I got. (Though the hate I got from Game Theory fans was VERY funny. I wondered why none of them gave me shit about saying “MatPat misgendered Evil Xisuma” before realizing none of them read that far into the post.)

And getting on a more personal, and much more important note, I met most of my current online friends through this, including my partner. It helped me grow closer with my irl friends as well and gave me an entertaining story that I tell whenever I have the chance. It was one of the first things in my life that really made me feel like my talents, my autistic hyperfocusing and analyzing of things I love, could be valuable. Useful. Exploitable. It blew my mind that MatPat thought an autistic kid’s ramblings about a Minecraft Youtube joke character were good enough to steal. To put an audible sponsorship on. To get 6 million views off of.

And that’s why I’m writing this post, this update years later. As you might’ve been able to guess, Hbomberguy’s Youtube video on plagiarism reopened this wound. It was really hard for me to sit through, it took days of pausing and taking breaks, because I had experienced everything he was talking about firsthand. 

In my 10 page long takedown post, I wrote about how his rewording of my sentences made him say things that were incorrect, just like Filip did. The content farm production style that made big companies like Cinemassacre take one creator (AVGN/MatPat) and turn him and his content into a brand, a voice that reads out scripts by other people with other opinions/theories, is a history shared with Game Theory. What really hit me was Harris talking about how big creators only do this to people they think they can get away with doing it to. How they view their victims as lesser, as not deserving of their words, repackaging them as their own to give to an audience that can gain from hearing them, but deserves better than to have to listen to the original victim.

That’s the thing, I 100% think a video version of my theory to expose to a bigger community than “Evil Xisuma Fans on Tumblr” is a great idea!! Near the end of the video Harris talks about how video adaptations of things could be a great market, even an accessibility tool, and I completely feel that about my posts. I wrote them quickly assuming the reader was someone well versed on Evil Xisuma lore, after not even watching most of the CarnEvil series, and the diagrams I made to explain them are even less comprehensible. Harris makes a joke that I completely agree with, 

“I’m sure some of my videos would do very well if someone translated them into English.”

I don’t think I would’ve ever made my posts if I didn’t have autism, and a special fixation on Evil Xisuma and Hermitcraft. I made them because I felt the character was being done an injustice, and because I wanted to share with other superfans this theory that might explain it away. I do think that MatPat plagiarizing me was ableist. I used to wonder a lot if this would’ve happened if my posts were articulated better, if they had been peer reviewed, if the posts themselves had been spread to a wider audience before MatPat made his video. At one point when the discourse was fresh (before I had the time to write out my 10 page rebuttal), a bigger YouTuber (100k subs at the time) messaged me and started talking on Discord, interested in possibly making a video on the discourse, but I think my style of typing and general enthusiasm drove him away. You can tell by a single look at my blog (or my original 3 posts!) that I don’t usually type like this. This post you’re reading now has been peer reviewed and edited, and took me hours to format correctly. That video could’ve been huge, the entire outcome of this MatPat situation would probably be much different.

I also used to stress a lot about “being the one who ruined Evil Xisuma’s story”. If you didn’t know, to me S8 Evil Xisuma’s story got wrapped up pretty quickly and unsatisfying (in my personal autistic opinion). (though this might’ve been due to s8 being experimental and ending early with moon big) There was no real culmination of the plot points and arcs going on, and I don’t want to blame myself, but when Xisuma said on stream (when the MatPat thing was first going on) that he didn’t want to focus on the discourse or draw more attention to it, it makes a lot of sense to me that he just wanted to wrap it all up as quickly as possible. For a while I beat myself up about it, of ruining the story of this character I love, but it’s not my fault. If anyone’s, it’s MatPats, but I don’t think it’s useful to just blame someone else. That’s how the story ended up going, and that’s fine. This is Evil Xisuma we’re talking about, their inconsistent lore is what made them such an interesting character. And notably, Pooka made an animation with an awesome culmination of Jeff, the Dreamer, Evil Xisuma, and his own sona’s story, and it makes me so happy to watch. Whatever Pooka does is of course his own choice, but I’m glad he got to give this personal story his own ending (if it is an ending, and not just the start of a new chapter!). 

Typing this all out and getting it off my chest has made me feel a lot better. For a while I wanted to make my OWN video essay about Evil Xisuma’s lore and CarnEvil’s lore, actually going episode by episode to explain it instead of just assuming you knew as much about Evil Xisuma as I did. That idea is still not off the table, but MCYT isn’t something I’m that into right now. Maybe if something else comes out about Evil Xisuma I’ll get back on it, but for now I’m fine with letting that go. But I want to make other videos, share other theories and analysis… if I have the freetime I’d love to make YouTube videos, and if I don’t have the time I’ll continue posting to my tumblr and infodumping to my friends. Apparently my infodumping is valuable enough “content” to steal! Writing this out has made me feel a lot better though, I’m really glad I got it out.

If anyone ever wants to talk to me about the things I’m obsessed with, or reach out to me as a source in a bigger discussion about Game Theory or other channels, my inbox is more than welcome :] Thank you for reading! 

Sincerely, a tumblr user.

[m1lkt00th]

[tags via @sunnydayaoe] . helll yes thank you thank you i love your fresh thoughts. now fresh and dust? hrmm scratching my chin

im trying to think of dust on their own. outside of being under nightmare since it’s not a setting im particularly interested in at the moment. i guess imagine him in the omega timeline somewhere. someplace secluded and where theyre left alone and are able to act independently. but then they see fresh around? and is a bit curious and investigates

on their own i Dont think dust would seek out companionship in fresh and fresh wouldnt seek out companionship in dust (so this is just me putting my toys together [metaphorically]) i think dust would find fresh’s oddness refreshing but in a nervous way. who is this guy. why do they look like that and talk like that and why do i have a feeling that this guy knows More than me. i feel like fresh would make dust feel like prey

dust, after everything, just wants peace. or punishment (in his mind) and being alone and separating themself from people that they associate with that past would help, or they think it will. fresh is Different. fresh is New. and that gives dust something to think about outside of their own thoughts and be curious about for a while. maybe they will grow to like it. maybe it will become all he thinks about. with a quiet life and nothing to do what is there but to think? develop hobbies, sure, but theyre anxious.

i think of dust as keeping to themself and since fresh also does that i push them together with dust developing a curiosity and then fresh also develops one too, probably to a lesser degree. dust isnt trying to take over the world and is kind of just? a guy at this point. unstable and with his own set of issues but ultimately just a guy. not a god or an entity or something between that- just a guy

critter… and critter (guy). they both find each other fascinating for different reasons and i want to explore thatt

tags:

#ouwh exiting news...#trying to think of how to describe fresh#he's a cameo. I think. he Tries to be a cameo#he doesn't want to be a major part of anybodys story. but he still wants to show up. something familier but also unfamilier#he's like... something who drops by. if you want somthing more. you need to like... put quite a bit of effort in. because he's not going to#he's surface level#to be closer invites just... too much. the idea that he could be in anyway a Major part of someone elses story would freak him out al ittle#He likes to be scary. but he doesn't like to be Provably a threat. he's just a bit of a freak you don't really know is even real.#??? this is rambly I might not be saying anythign of substance at all#but yeha.. mani thesis... he's just oem Guy you dont' really know the motives of but yous ee around sometimes.#someone who seems aggresively open but once you start paying attention is actually extreamly cagey#reblog#also ANYYYY thoughts you have on fresh and dust please share them with me I like them but I am. bad at figuring out dust

whatever bro. fresh having more relationships outside of error and geno and how they interact. who is fresh to people. how does he fit into the world (or doesnt fit if you want to go that way). are they scared of him. do they warm to each other eventually. grr grr grr

[atlabeth]

(please) spare me indignity

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies. 

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it. 

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box. 

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy. 

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break. 

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.” 

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?” 

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.” 

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well. 

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.” 

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?” 

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. 

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.” 

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open. 

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good. 

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home. 

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere. 

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.” 

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away. 

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would. 

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again. 

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out. 

You frown. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!” 

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.” 

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it. 

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.” 

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says. 

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it. 

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest. 

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.” 

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back. 

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.  

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason. 

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him. 

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself. 

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care. 

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away. 

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls. 

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” 

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly. 

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person. 

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.” 

-

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off. 

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are. 

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room. 

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn. 

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—” 

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look. 

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?” 

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask. 

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says. 

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation. 

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize. 

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.” 

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.” 

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you. 

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one. 

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.” 

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it. 

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks. 

“Fine,” you say. 

He frowns. “Really?” 

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.” 

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—” 

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt. 

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says. 

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?” 

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—” 

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.” 

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.” 

“Am I not allowed to joke?” 

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.” 

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.” 

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?” 

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.” 

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—” 

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?” 

“A couple spoonfuls but—” 

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends. 

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.” 

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.” 

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?” 

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.” 

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you. 

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?” 

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says. 

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?” 

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.” 

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine. 

“Do they have any leads?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?” 

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.” 

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than  usual, but you drink it anyway. 

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.” 

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.” 

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.” 

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out. 

“Want one?” 

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.” 

“You should.” 

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock. 

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.” 

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?” 

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.” 

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.” 

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response. 

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now. 

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that. 

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you. 

-

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much. 

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever. 

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him. 

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true. 

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace. 

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion. 

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?” 

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.” 

Spencer sits up. “What is it?” 

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.” 

“Who is it?” he asks. 

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—” 

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.” 

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?” 

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.” 

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.” 

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.” 

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.” 

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.” 

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.” 

There’s nothing but silence on the other end. 

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—” 

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—” 

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?” 

“...Some,” Spencer says. 

“Like?” 

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him. 

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.” 

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.” 

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.” 

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.  

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says. 

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.” 

“Spencer—” 

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?” 

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him. 

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom. 

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you. 

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach. 

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear. 

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters. 

He hangs up without another word.