#I think there’s also really something to be said for the idea that in order for Christopher to have a say

[pingintech]

youre absolutely right this is very frustrating and ive personally experienced this

i do wonder what the actual meaning of tme means here and wat the purpose of using it is??? i understand what tme MEANS transmisogyny excluded but i do not understand what its use is in this context really??? because if you are talkin about how non trans femme people do this thing makes sense but then why not say that??? if youre instead saying people who arent trans women say this that also makes sense but then why not say that but if youre making a super specific hair splitting argument that some trans femme people never do this because theyre somehow more affected by transmisogyny than other trans femme people then i think youre making a really hyperspecific argument thats really just about how well intentioned nonbinary people act this way in which case again why not say that???

frankly it seems kinda odd to assume anyone reading your post will know which are the ignorant well intentioned non trans women non transmisogyny affected nonbinary people are by use of a single acronym ultimately it kinda derails your point to talk about tme in the middle of talking about a very valid very common experience it kinda feels like you want to say nonbinary people and trans men do this but you want people to know youre only talking about these specific (non specified) nonbinary people and trans men and not the good ones who get it

which frankly you dont have to add such a loaded and ambiguous qualifier to a vent post?

like you could say nonbinary and transmen i trans friendly places do this sometimes and its frustrating end of.

i could be wrong but i do want to help other trans folks out when it seems like their messages are being faced with communication issues as a trans woman myself and i dont believe there is a sufficient way to explain who is and isnt excluded from transmisogyny in every instance unless you believe that everyone suggesting this to you must by default be someone who hasnt been affected by transmisogyny?

in which case it is probably misguided to assume someones lived experiences based on the thins they say alone if anything frankly no one is immune from saying something stupid regardless of the amount of transmisogyny they experience

if youre making such a hyper specific point about a category of people that are pretty subjectively defined in order to say other trans femme people do this too and its such a hyper specific category that you might have to explain your specific interpretation of who that does and does not include then you may be derailing your own point?

and then suddenly a very real and valid point like this one is not being super effectively communicated

you could pretend to argue that people affected by transmisogyny tend to be able to tell who isnt but to lightly push back against that idea if you pass fully but you are passing in order to escape many of the affects of transmisogyny then you choice to live that way is affected by transmisogyny no??? in that sense even someone who could pass completely as a cisgender woman is being negatively affected by transmisogyny

if someone who looks exactly like a cisgender woman in every way can still be affected by transmisogyny does it not go to reason a cisgender woman could find themselves also affected by transmisogyny if say some transvestigators decide she has enough masculine traits that she must be lying about her gender could not the same be said for cis men who are seen to have enough feminine traits that transvestigators decide they must be a trans woman starting transition

if someone being excluded from the ails of transmisogyny is conditional then it makes it really difficult to determine who you mean when you say the without pulling out a graph and thats even before trying to debate the lived experiences of individual nonbinary people

i do really genuinely mean this as a trans woman myself saying this from the best of intentions i do not at all actually know what you mean boss about tmes here in this context and i think it takes away greatly from the much more salient and valid point youre making

i hate when you're in a trans-friendly environment and talk about like. doing things to pass better and TME people are like "what even is feminine anyways? what is a woman? the things women are made to feel like they have to do are so misogynistic, I think you shouldn't be worrying about those things."

like thanks for the feminism 101 dude, but I don't need musing about the nature of misogyny, I've been a feminist for over 10 years. this is about how people treat me poorly if I don't pass well enough. like i agree with you on all accounts, seeing as how I am affected by these things, but like. believing they're wrong doesn't mean I'm not still pressured by them. :/

like i went into the voice training clinic last year and I told the lady how I wanted to train my voice to be more feminine because I was struggling with keeping it in register, and it's been upsetting for me because when I fall out of register people treat me differently, gender me as a man, view me with suspicion, and I'm worried about how it might happen when a man tries to hit on me or something and the idea of a man thinking i "tricked him" into "being gay" is really scary for me, and she's like "oh, what even Is a feminine voice, anyways?" like. thanks girlie. it's definitely just my internal perceptions and not my lived experience.

just, the way TME people just Assume trans women don't know about feminism is so frustrating. constantly on the back foot like "no, no, I'm a feminist, believe me, however, I've been threatened for not passing well enough, so I face a lot of pressure to do so, sorry that you think I'm enforcing the gender binary by trying to preserve my safety."

[harrysxcarolina]

bittersuite

b eilish

warnings: wlw, soft!billie, flirty!billie, teasing, smut, fluff, angst, friendstolovers, brothersbestfriend x reader, cussing, cliffhanger, also she a thick lil thing so enjoy!!!

wc: 7.2k

I can't fall in love with you

You couldn’t help but stare at her out of the corner of your eye. The way that her hair fell down her back framing around her face perfectly. Her dark locks only brightening her icy blue eyes more than they already were. Her hand subconsciously reaching up and tucking some of them behind her ear. Noticing the way her head tilted back as she laughed at something her brother, your best friend said. A smile crept its way across your face as they pulled you into their conversation on what they should order for dinner. 

Shrugging your shoulders letting them know you don’t have a preference and will eat whatever as you curl yourself back up into the corner of the couch. Mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you steal glances at the pair on either side of you. Trying to keep your eyes from lingering too long. You catch the eyes of Finneas as you don’t miss the raised eyebrow at you silently asking you if you were okay. Knowing that you always try to talk them into your favorite place every time. Billie is quick to pull his attention back on her as she scrolls through the food options she's pulled up. 

She leans her body across your legs showing her brother her phone to get his opinion on the options she's pulled up. You feel your heartbeat quicken. Her body pressing down on yours as she carelessly jokes with Finneas. Your lip finds its way between your teeth as you fight back the butterflies soaring through your belly. 

***

Lounging against the back of the couch rubbing your stomach you can’t help the soft groan that leaves your lips. 

“Why did we think it was a good idea to eat all that food again?” You whine as Billie and Finneas join you in your lounging. Their laughs fill the room as you feel the sleepiness begin to creep in. Stretching as you let out a yawn slowly curling yourself onto your side in the corner of the couch. It was your favorite spot. It was in the middle of your two favorite people. It was cozy and comfortable, and you had the perfect view of the tv for all the binge sessions the three of you had. 

“We needed options.” Finneas shrugs as you fight your eyelids to stay open. You feel a certain pair of eyes on you, but the tiredness taking over you couldn’t be bothered to look up and see the piercing blue orbs staring down at you. 

“Plus, everything sounded good and neither one of you wanted to help pick so I said fuck it and ordered everything.” Billie laughs as she moves her gaze to search for a movie, not missing the way you scooted yourself deeper into the couch. Your head gently landing in her lap, unintentionally that is. Getting all comfy and cozy for your afternoon nap. A small smile works its way across her lips as she tosses a blanket at Finneas nodding down at you. Her cheeks heating up as you continue to make yourself comfortable against her thigh. Moving the baby hairs out of your face without opening your eyes. Consumed in your own little world of sleepiness. Not really sure where it was coming from, but she definitely wasn’t gonna complain about it either. 

His eyes follow her gaze as he can’t help the smirk on his face and the slight shake of his head as he gently spreads the blanket out over you. Your light snores fill the room soon after. Finneas quietly letting Billie know he has to run to the restroom. Leaving you and Billie alone for a few moments. She doesn’t waste any time before she reaches her fingertips out to gently brush the hair laying across your cheek behind your ear. Her eyes soften as she glances down at you. You were already fast asleep. Nose scrunched up as you snuggle the blanket closer against your cheek. Neatly curled up in the cushions of the couch and her thigh as your chest moves softly with each breath you take. Her lip found itself tangled between her teeth as she let her fingers linger just a moment longer. Tracing every outline of your face but not wanting to wake you with her soft tickles. 

Taking a deep breath before carefully getting herself comfortable on the couch. Prepared to not move an inch wanting to make sure you get your rest. Or maybe, just a little bit, she likes the way it felt with you cuddled up beside her. Though she wouldn’t admit that out loud to anyone. Glancing down at you she didn’t miss the swirling butterflies fluttering around in her belly as you would softly nuzzle your face against her thigh as you tuck the blanket up against your cheek. Shielding you away from the conscious world. Making sure one last time you were completely covered up before she settled on a movie and let you sleep snuggled deep into her side. 

Finneas is quick to return as he glances back and forth between the two of you. With a shrug of her shoulders, she playfully swats him away as he tries to pick on you as he walks past and flops down on the couch. Your body slightly stirs at the sudden movement. Finneas can’t help the laugh that ripples through him when he notices the dagger eyes Billie shoots him as she holds perfectly still. Carefully watching you until you slowly fall back into your nap. 

With raised eyebrows Finneas threw his sister a look. One that they both knew what he meant without needing the words spoken. Tugging at her bottom lip she refuses to look back in her brother's direction, deciding to focus on the scenes playing out in front of her on the tv and the soft nudges your head left against her thigh anytime you breathe in. focus on the movie billie. focus billie. 

She repeated the mantra over and over again, never focusing on the movie. 

I've been havin' dreams

Groaning as your body tosses and turns between the warm sheets. Sleep coating you like a weighted blanket as your mind is tricked into a different reality. One that you desperately wished could be real. 

Her hands roaming your body. Her lips leaving soft open mouth kisses down your neck as her fingertips trace shapes across your lower torso. From hip to hip. Back and forth. Never getting lower than the hem of your panties. Her lips work their way across your jaw. Softly brushing her soft swollen ones against yours. Her smirk teasing.  Moving her body closer to you as she slid her hand down your torso grasping your hip and giving you a small tug. Your bodies now completely pressed up against one another. 

“Do you want me baby?”  she mumbles against your cheek. Her mumbles trickle down your heated skin as the tip of her nose tickles yours when you tilt your head in her direction. Lips teasing as you feel her fingers continue to flirt with you. Slightly slipping underneath the hem of the black lace but just barely. 

Your breath catches as she captures your bottom lip between her teeth. Moaning into her mouth as her fingers slide lower and lower between your thighs. 

“Tell me you want me, pretty girl.” She groans in your ear as she inches her fingers closer and closer to your heated core. 

Her tongue tracing the shell of your ear. Groaning as your hips buck up into her touch. Needing more of her. 

“C’mon, I know you do,” she whispers as her fingertips finally reach their destination, but stop just shy of where you desperately wanted her. Her lips are hot against your ear. “I see the way you want me.” She whispers, her tone dropping as the words leave her lips. Grasping her back as you chase after her lips. Her smirk grows as she pulls back just before you can catch her. Moaning in frustration as you long for her skin on yours. 

Her evil chuckle echoes through the room. 

“All you gotta do is say the words mamas,” She whimpers as she crashes her lips against yours as her fingers slide between your wetness. Coating her fingers in your juices, “then I’m yours.” She moans.

Mine, mine, mine…

You’re woken from your slumber by the obnoxious knocking outside your front door. The jump scare causes the pulsing of your heart to ring in your ears as you rub the sleep from your eyes. Glancing at your phone checking the time. You overslept. Quickly throwing the blankets off your once warm body and working your way out of bed. Your cheeks heating up at the realization of what just happened. What you just dreamt about. Who you dreamt about. Your best friend's sister. Someone you most definitely should not and can’t not be having dreams about. Shaking your head trying to rid your mind of not only the images of her pressed against your skin but her soft whispers that were currently playing on a loop in your mind.

Taking quick steps to the door you offer a quick apologetic smile as you swing the door open for Finneas. A quick quirk of his eyebrow as he looks you up and down noticing you're still in your pajamas. Silently checking his watch and giving you a quick smirk and shrug of his shoulder nodding for you to go get ready. “Decide to sleep in, did ya?” He jokes as he is quick to pull you into a hug. 

“I’ll be quick. I promise!” You state as you slowly remove your arms from around him making room for him to come in, realizing his sister, the girl you just had a sex dream about, was right behind him wearing a smirk at your frazzled state. Your cheeks heat up even more as you frantically flatten out your bed head. “Good morning sleepy head. Have any good dreams?” She asks, popping the gum in her mouth as she runs her tongue across her lips. Eyes wide quickly turning on your heel making your way back to your room totally ignoring her question. Her smirk only grows as she wonders what had you so worked up. 

***

“Billie wh-what are you doing?” You asked in a hushed tone as she gently pushed you into her childhood room. Closing the door behind her leaving the background noise of the bbq her parents were having in the backyard behind you. 

“Look, I can't keep doing this.” She states as she grasps one of your hips. The tips of your toes brushing together as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Looking up at you through her laces. Confusion laced through your face as you began to question her. 

“Keep doing what? Billie what-” 

“I can’t keep pretending that there isn’t something between us. Don’t say you don’t feel it either.” She questions as she takes the last step between you two. Your breath hitches. You can smell the faint smell of her perfume as she reaches up and brushes your cheek.

“I see the way you look at me when you think no one is watching.” She whispers bashfully. 

“Billie we can’t.” You whisper as your eyes close slightly leaning into her touch.

“I see the way you want me pretty,” She mumbles as she pulls you closer by your hip. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you open your eyes meeting her gaze. Your cheeks are rosy pink as her eyes flicker between your eyes and lips. 

“I want you too.” She declares leaning up on her tiptoes just close enough for your lips to brush softly as her hand slides to cup your cheek. 

Your eyes flutter close as you moisten your lips with the tip of your tongue. It softly brushes against her swollen lips causing a soft moan to bounce off her lips. Forgetting about all the what ifs and hows it could all go wrong. You forget for a split second the aftermath of your decisions tonight. Not wanting to think anymore. Not wanting to fight the feelings that have been brewin’ for what felt like forever, just for a moment. 

Or maybe more…

Her hand gripping your cheek. “Tell me you don’t want this?” She questions against your cheek as she lays a peppered kiss to the heated skin. Moaning softly for finally being able to touch you in ways she's found herself dreaming about. Her lips lay a final peck to the corner of your mouth. Not quite taking that final leap before you gave her the okay. Not until you told her what she was wanting to hear.

“I want to be the one-” you take a deep breath pulling away from her hypnotizing lips to look at her. “I want to be the one you dream about.” You don’t miss the flash of emotion in her eyes before she's pulling you flush against her lips as your hands grip her baggy shirt hanging loosely off her torso. Moaning into each other's mouths as they tangle together passionately.

Definitely ignoring the swirling thoughts of how this could go wrong.

We can be discrete (ah)

Her lips leave her mark across your chest as your hands grip her back. Pulling her tighter against you as her teeth graze your hot skin. Back arching off the bed as she slides her hands behind you toying with the clasps of your bra. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asks as she slowly works her lips up your neck to your lips. Nodding your head as you move one hand to the base of her neck. Gently playing with the baby hairs that lay there. A small smile works its way across your face as you see her knowing look. 

She wants you to say it. Watching her teeth capture her bottom lip, your hands tangle themselves into her hair tilting her head back slightly. Her smirk only grows bigger as her teeth refuse to give up their grip on herself. Her eyebrows raise letting you know she is still waiting for your consent. 

Her expression softens briefly as you lower your gaze. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” She replies as she softly cups your cheek forcing you to bring your eyes back to her. 

“I want to,” You reply as your eyes trace over the curves of her face. Her lips land on yours softly. A soft delicate kiss shared between the both of you. Filled with unspoken feelings and thoughts. Not realizing you shared the same worries. Pulling away slowly climbing on top of you straddling your hips. Licking her lips as she looks down at you. Taking you all in. Your hair fanned out across her pillow. Eyes bright with excitement. Lips swollen from the attack of your teeth. Your cheeks a rosy pink casting a glow off the soft fairy lights dangling off the wall above you. Your chest lightly heaving up and down as you stare right back. Your hand reaching up and tugging on her baggy shit. Silently begging for her to remove it. Gripping the hem and sliding it over her head it joins the half-made pile of clothes already down there. 

Grinning down at you as she slowly reaches up and ties her long hair up in a messy bun. A few pieces escape and fell into her view, but she paid them no mind, not with the sight she had laying right in front of her.

Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth as she slowly slides her hand down her neck. Eyes locking with yours as she slowly lowers it down across her breast. Sliding her hand in the cup of her bra gently brushing over her sensitive nipple. Her head tilting back as her free hand grips your hip. You watch her in a daze. Your core throbbing at the sight of her playing with herself in front of you. Moaning as your hand reaches out for her. Needing to touch her. To feel her underneath your fingertips. To feel all her quivers and whimpers firsthand.

Gripping her hip and motioning for her to move her hips as you continue to watch her twist and pull at her own nipple. Licking your lips, rutting your hips up against her. Her ass rubbing just right over your core. She growls above you as you wrap your arm around her waist, sitting up and kissing all along her cleavage. Nipping and licking at her warm skin as you leave purple marks all across her chest. Your hand working its way up her spine unclasping her bra and freeing her breast. Moaning as they sit perfectly right in front of you. You're quick to capture her bud in your mouth and let your tongue work. Licking and flicking against her as you suction your lips around her. Her moans echo off the walls as she arches into you. Her hands gripping your head holding you against her. Her hips now rocking back and forth against you. 

Rotating deliciously against you causing your entire body to erupt in shivers. Your grip on her waist tightens as you flip her over causing her to land with a soft thud. Her loose hair panning out across her sheets as your lips make quick work on her skin. Kissing down her body making sure to explore every. single. inch. Looking up at her through your lashes as you give her a soft smile silently asking her for permission kissing the soft skin between her hips. Teetering with the idea of your lips between her thighs. Her head falls back onto the bed as her hips buck up. Moaning as she whispers out a soft, “please.” 

Smirking, you quickly unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs. Making sure to kiss your way back up her soft thighs as you gently spread her legs. Scooching down between them as your arms wrap up under her thighs and around her hips. Her eyes never leaving yours as her chest heaves up and down. Her hands groping her breast as her fingers gently tease one of her nipples. Teeth sinking into her lip as she watches you place kisses up and down her thighs. Your eyes watching her as she toys with herself. 

Planting a soft kiss over her clothed clit before sliding the pesky material off and out of your way. Your hand quickly swatting Billies hands away from her breast as you replace it. Squeezing and pulling as your lips find their way to her dripping cunt. Groaning as you flick your tongue against her clit, your hand gripping her hip as your fingers twist and pull her nipple. 

“Fucking hell-” Billie moans as she arches her back into your touch. Her hips grinding against your tongue as you suck and lick between her folds. Moaning into her, she grips your hand that is holding her breast, and the other works its way into your hair. Pushing you further into her as her legs quiver beside your head. 

Clenching your thighs and rutting against the bed as you slide your free hand between her thighs. Slowly replacing your mouth on her clit with your fingers. Looking up at her as you spread her wetness all around. Removing the hand that was gripping her tit and slowly interlacing her fingers with yours. Her grip on your hair refusing to let up. Her chest heaves up and down as she watches you play with her. Her tongue quickly moistens her swollen lips as you tease her with your fingers. Carefully slipping the tip of your middle finger into her. Her breath catches, grip on your hand tightening as you thrust your finger fully into her core. Moaning as you twist and curl your finger deliciously against her walls. Her moans fill the room as you kiss your way up her thigh your finger never faltering as you continue your sweet torture on her bud. 

Capturing her between your lips as you hit her sweet spot over and over. Your fingers getting to spots she didn’t even know would feel like this. Taking over all her senses. Sucking her sensitive clit between your lips toying with it with the tip of your tongue. 

“Shit mamas,” Billie groans loudly as her hips shamelessly try to grind themselves against you. Needing more. More of you. More of this feeling that is taking over her like a wildfire. Consuming not only her body but mind. Needing all of you in every single way imaginable. 

Your smirk grows, not missing the pet name she threw out there, as you continue your work. Licking, sucking, and teasing her aching clit as your finger slows its pace between her folds. Her whines only get louder with your finger barely moving against her, your tongue works over time. Drinking up everything she has to offer you. “Fuck, please- please don’t stop.” She moans, her back lifting off the bed begging for your touch. Pulling her further into your mouth, swiveling your tongue in figure eights, as you feel her juices drip down your chin. Pinning your interlaced hands down on the bed as she fights your hold against her.

Glancing up at her through your lashes, slowly continuing to tease her. Dragging your tongue up and down her folds over and over again. Everytime you’d get close to her aching clit you’d quickly restart the process. Eyes never leaving hers as you watch her capture her bottom lip between her teeth, her blue orbs get darker and darker the longer she watches your every move. Moaning as you feel the tight pull on your own core. Her stare heavy with all the thoughts and ways she is going to devour you later. Her fingers deep in your hair as she gently pushes you closer to her once more. So close to the blissful edge. A feeling she could get addicted too. A feeling she so desperately wanted to give to you.

 “God-please don’t stop.” She asks in a hushed tone. Her cheeks turn a rosy pink from her own words as she continues to watch your every move. Your tongue circling her clit as you slowly add a second finger. Groaning against her as she clenches around your digits. Her body arches off the bed as you thrust and curl your fingers against that sweet spongy spot over and over again until she is panting beneath you. Begging for you to let her cum. Her moans so sweet above you as you hit her g-spot just right as you watch her unfold on your tongue and fingers. Her hand now holds your head tightly in place as she rotates her hips against you.

“Fucking shit! Fuck-I’m cumming,” she groans out. Squeezing her hand as you let her work herself against your tongue. Flexing your fingers riding out her high as you don’t miss a single drop of her sweetness. Letting her go with a pop memorizing her fucked out state. A smirk works its way across your cheeks. Her lips red and swollen. Her eyes wild with lust as she gently releases her grip on your hair and hand. Bringing her hands to your cheeks and gently pulling you up her body. Your fingers leave their trace as you grip her sides. Her lips capture yours in a sweet kiss as you feel her chest heaving up and down below you. Getting lost in the feeling of her lips on yours and her hands holding your cheeks moaning as you feel her tongue trace across your bottom lip. A devilish smirk across her cheeks as you slowly grant her access.

Quick to taste herself on your lips she wasted no time in deepening the kiss working her tongue against yours. What once was a sweet kiss sure turns heated as her fingers slide their way into your hair tilting your head slightly. Slightly distracting you enough to flip the two of you over. Her now the one to tower over you. Her legs wrapped around your torso as you lay panting below her. Her forehead resting against yours. Breathing each other in as you catch your breaths.

“Who knew you were such a tease?” She mumbles against your lips, rubbing the tip of her nose against yours. It was your turn to feel the heat rise to your cheeks as her piercing blue eyes met yours. Her smirk only grows as her fingers tighten in your hair. A soft hum leaves her chest as her lips toy with yours. Gently brushing across yours but not letting them linger too long. Groaning in protest as you chase her lips only to be pulled back by her grip in your hair.

“Hm, I guess it’s my turn now pretty girl.” She mocks her hot breath hitting your face right before she captures your bottom lip between her teeth with a tug. Bucking your hips up in response as your hands search for her hips. Pulling her flush against you. Shamelessly grinding yourself up against her as her lips dance with yours. Your moans echoing off the walls as her hands explore your body. 

Her hands continue their movements down your body. Her eyes never leave yours as they get lower and lower leaving goosebumps in their trail. Her lips find your neck as she kisses your skin searching for your sweet spot. Making quick worth to capture it between her lips leaving her mark along your neck as you chant her name begging for anything she will give you. Her fingers teasing the hemline of your panties as she feels your chest heaving against hers. Her smirk only grows across your neck as she flirts with you.

“Tell me you want me.” She moans against the shell of your ear. “I need to hear you say it again.” She begs as she moves to tangle her legs with yours. Her fingertips gently sliding across your panties teasing your aching clit. Giving you a little taste of what's to come if you only were to mutter those sweet three words. I want you. Her hand gripping your hip as her fingers spread your wetness around your clit. Her breathing heavy in your ear pinning your hips down. Moaning as your back arches off the bed following her touch. 

Your body is on fire. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears. Your bottom lip captured between your teeth. Chest heaving against hers as you feel her breast against your burning skin. 

“C’mon be my girl good and I’ll show you how I want you,” she whimpers. Her soft tone causes something to explode in you as you grip her wrist and slide it under your panties. The friction of her fingers between your wet folds hitting your clit causing the both of you to lose it in a fit of moans. Your hips grinding and rotating against her. Working her fingers and hips against your body as she captures your lips with hers. 

Her body is pressing on yours as her fingers slide their way between your folds. Feeling how wet you are just for her. Groaning as she slides two fingers into your heated core causing the both of you to pull away from the kiss but only for a moment. Thrusting and curling perfectly along your walls as your hands grasp and pull at her body. Your lips find her neck leaving open mouth kisses. Kissing and sucking along her collarbone feeling every ragged breath she takes above you. Your hands gripping her hips aiding in her motions as she hits your spongy sweet spot repeatedly. 

Her forehead meeting your shoulder as she works herself up for the second time tonight against your body. Her fingers never faltered as she thrust them harder and deeper in you. Her thumb rubbing and flicking  your clit causing you to see stars. “Fuck, right there!” You moan as your hands slide up her back holding her to you. The sweet pressure getting bigger and bigger in your core as she works you closer to your high. Her lips hot against your neck as her fingers don’t stop. She feels you clenching around her digits. Your juices dripping down her fingers and wrist causes her to go feral. Kissing her way down your body making sure to lay kisses along your breast. Glancing up at you through her lashes as her smirk grows across your tummy. Her tongue leaves her trace across your hot skin as she keeps her eyes on yours. Getting lower and lower. Her fingers still keeping up their movements as she kisses the inside of your thigh. 

With a quirk of her eyebrow she gives you one last look as she breathes you in. Her tongue swiping across her lips as her icy blue eyes bore into you. Watching as her fingers sink in and out of you over and over again. 

“Billie,” you whine as your back arches off the bed. Your hands gripping your naked breast as she glances up at you. 

“Tell me what I want to hear baby, then I’ll show you.” She states as she lays a peppered kiss on the inside of your thigh once more. Her eyes take in her affect on you. Your hair is completely done for. Your cheeks a hot red. Lips swollen and rosy as they silently beg to be kissed. Your chest heaving up and down as your fingers toy with your own nipples. Laid out on her childhood bed panting and moaning for her touch. Billie groans at the sight. Her lip between her teeth trying to fight back the smirk on her cheeks. 

Leaning down inching herself closer to where you wanted her you fight the moan working its way to your lips. Neither one of you dared to break the contact as she slowly kissed her way up your thigh. It was her turn to toy with you. Just like the way you toyed with her. Groaning as you throw your head back on her bed, her lips oh so carefully brushing against your aching pussy. Her fingers still working you slowly as she continues to twist and curl deep inside you. Causing your stomach to erupt in butterflies as she softly brushed the tip of her tongue along your folds. Needed a tiny taste herself. Groaning as her eyes roll using her free hand to grip your hip. 

“Fuck, please Billie.” You groan, reaching one of your hands down to tangle itself in her dark locks. Trying desperately for her to give you what you wanted.  “I want you so bad. Please Bils-” You moan as you thrust your hips up not able to take it anymore. Needed to feel her in ways you’ve only dreamt of. 

That was all she needed to hear before she dove right in. Capturing your bud between her teeth as she quickens the thrust of her fingers. Her tongue swirling and nipping at you over and over again. Your hips rutting against her face as your fingers hold her tight in place. Her moans vibrate throughout your body as she laps every single drop. Your body quivering and shaking underneath her as she works her tongue down between your folds and then back up. Sucking your clit as her fingers grip your hip pinning you down. She was in charge now. 

“Fucking shit- oh my god Billie!” You moan as your legs try to clench around her head. Her tongue and fingers do wonders on your body as you feel yourself climbing high and higher. You moans echoing off the walls not caring who all could hear. The tightness gets too much to bare as she refuses to give up her grip on you. 

You feel your coil about to burst as she rotates her tongue against your clit. Your juices drip down her chin as her blue orbs meet yours. Silently begging you to give her all of you. With one last flick and curl she had you cumming. Body shaking as your eyes clenched tight, grinding your hips against her as you ride out your high. Not stopping until she had you begging and pushing her head away, claiming it was too much. Your body heaves as you lay trying to catch your breath. 

Her soft lips trailing up your body as she slowly removes her fingers from between your thighs. Her smirk grows feeling your quivering body beneath hers as she kisses her way up to your lips. Her hands brushing the fallen pieces of hair that lay in your vision as she kisses both of your cheeks. Her eyes trace your face as she lays herself flush against you. Both of you laying bare as you run your fingertips up her spine. Softly tickling her skin causing a shiver to escape. A soft chuckle leaves her lips as she softly asks you to open your eyes and look at her. 

A soft blush creeps across your cheeks as you meet her stare. Her once icy blue orbs that were laced with lust are now soft as she takes you in. Eyes flicking between yours and your lips as she continues to run her fingertips along the curves of your features. 

Tracing around your eyebrows and down your nose, across your lips and down your jaw softly cupping your cheek before pressing a soft sweet kiss to your lips. She doesn’t linger long before she feels you gently push her to sit up. 

“We should, uh we should probably head back. Don’t want people to start to question anything.” You say in a hushed whisper. Your eyes casting down as you run  your fingers through your hair. Trying to flatten down any flyaways. 

Her eyes furrowed in confusion, but not fighting you as she scoots her way down the bed watching you get up and begin to dress to rejoin the bbq happening outback. 

Love so bittersweet, mm

“Why in such a rush?” Billie softly questions as she watches you search her room for the remainder of your clothes. Your heart quickens at her words. The actions between you and her replaying in your mind on repeat. Taking a deep breath you finally find your shirt underneath her bed. “I already told you why.” You state as you get on your hands and knees to reach for it. Billie still sitting on the bed above you watching your every move.

“Why does it matter if people question where we were?” She asks as she finally stands up off the bed looking down at you. Throwing your shirt on quickly before joining her you grab her shirt off the floor too. Holding it out for her she hesitantly takes it from your grip. 

“Billie-” You start. 

“No, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I know you have feelings for me.” She states as she slides her shirt over her head. Glancing down as she slides her jeans back up her thighs. Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear as you try and collect the thoughts running wild through your mind. 

“It’s not that simple.” You mutter with a shake of your head. You hear her scoff. 

“How is it not? I like you. You like me. It’s simple.” She declares as she takes a step towards you. Softly gripping your arm causing you to move your gaze back to her. Worry laces your features as you stare at one another. Shaking your head as you remove her grip from your arm.

“It’s never that simple and you know it.” You say as you make your way towards the door. 

“So you’re just going to run? After everything you're just going to run away from me?” She questions as she is quick to follow you out of her childhood room. Her chest tightens. You said you wanted her. You said that you wanted this just like she did. And you did. You desperately wanted her. In every way imaginable. But there were other people you needed to think about. How it would not only affect you but them. Your thoughts were tangled up with everything that just happened along with how it will affect the one other person you cared deeply for. Your best friend. Her brother. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. You didn’t want to hurt either one of them. You couldn’t. You refused to. 

“Stop running and talk to me.” She urgently says as she finally catches up with you and stops your movements. Her grip is tight, but not tight enough to hurt you. Her eyes bore confusion and hurt as you finally turned to look at her. Her lips are still rosy and swollen. Her chest slightly heaving at the thought of you just walking away. Hair still tied up in a messy bun, but disheveled nonetheless. Her jeans hanging loosely off her hips as her baggy shirt wrinkled and bawled up against her waistline.  

“Don’t do this. Don’t-” She takes a deep breath as her free hand reaches up to brush hair out of her face. Eyes filled with worry as they flick back up to yours. “Don’t go.” She begs. Your heart breaks at her words. Your body runs cold as you reach up to brush her cheek. You don’t say anything for a moment as you both just stand there looking at each other. Her eyes get softer by the second as you feel her relax against your hold.

“What about Fin?” You softly whisper. Tears welling in your eyes at the thought of this coming between the three of you. You had no idea how he would react. You and Billie. It was one thing to hang out but it was a completely different story to fall in love with his younger sister. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose either one of you. This- God this could ruin it all Billie.” You state as the damn breaks free. Your hot tears trailing down your cheeks as your chest heaves in panic. “I’m so sorry. I-I-I can’t.” You stutter as you drop your hand. You couldn’t win this war in your head. You are a losing battle the longer you stand crumbling in front of the only girl you’ve ever loved. Seeing the hurt flash across her eyes as she takes a step towards you only for you to take one back. 

Shaking your head as your lips quiver, continuing your small steps away from her making your way out of the house not sure where you were headed but you knew you couldn’t face either one of them in this state. 

Open up the door for me, for me…

Billie's leg is nonstop jiggling. It has been four days. Four days since you confessed to each other your feelings for one another. Four days since her heart shattered into pieces watching you walk away from her. Four days since she's heard a word from you. You’ve gone silent. Shutting her and everybody else out. You weren’t responding to anyone. Not even Finneas. Her mind and body numb as she stares blankly at the screen. Half listening to what her brother was asking her to do on the newest track they were working on. 

“Hello? Earth to Billie? Are you even listening?” Finneas asks her with a huff. Getting pulled out of her thought spiral she quickly shakes her head and glances up at her brother. Her heart was beating hard against her chest as her mouth went dry. She couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I’m in love with her.” Billie declares. Her face goes white as a ghost as her mouth moves faster than her mind. Finneas shooting her a look. Eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“I know.” Is all he states as he moves his stare back to the screen. Her breathing stops. That’s all he’s gonna say? Normally he hounds her for information. Wanting to get inside her head, making sure that the person she was seeing was actually treating her right and the way that she deserved to be treated. She was his little sister after all. 

The only sound in the room is the soft clicks of the mouse and keyboard as he aimlessly plays around with the track. “I’ve known for a while.” He mutters without taking his eyes off the screen. “I see the way you guys look at each other. I see the way you guys get when you think no one is looking.” He states as he finally looks at her giving up on the task at hand. 

“You never said anything?” Billie softly questions as she feels the blush creep up on her cheeks. Fidgeting with the rings that cluttered her fingers in hopes of distracting herself.

“I didn’t think it would take as long as it did for you to admit it to yourself. Plus I kinda figured something went down when she left the bbq so quickly the other day.” Finneas spoke as he turned his chair to give her his full attention. His hands reach for hers, stopping her nervous habit. 

“It’s been days and she won’t talk to me.” She gushes as she fights the tears swelling up. “I fucked it all up Finn. You didn’t see the way she looked at me. God I fucked everything up.” She states as her body shakes, finally crumbling into her feelings. Finneas is quick to pull his little sister in a tight hug. Gently cradling her head as he softly rocks the both of them back and forth. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. Just give her time.” He says softly comforting her. Letting her get all her emotions out. 

“I pushed her Finneas. She was so worried about what would happen between us all and I- I fuck, I pushed her.” Billie continues as she falls into his hold. 

“Go talk to her. I’m sure you two will be able to figure it out.” He sincerely offers. “And if it helps, I was always secretly rooting for the two of you.” He says with a soft chuckle causing her to lift her head from his shoulder looking at him trying to find any dishonesty. Sniffling and wiping her eyes she doesn’t find any. 

“Go, go talk to her.” He urges. Gently pushing her the rest of the way back in her chair. A small smile works its way across her lips as she quickly gathers up her things. “Are you sure?” She asks in a hushed panic taking one last look at her brother over her shoulder. Nodding his head yes as he urges her to the door. 

Clenching her phone and keys in hand as she can’t fight the smile on her face. Giving him one final nod as she rushes to her car. Hoping and praying you give her the chance. Her fingers nervously grip and tap the wheel as she drives to your place. Her ears ringing with how hard her heart was beating against her chest. Playing out all the ways that this could go. All she needed was for you to open the door to her and all the possibilities of how this new chapter for the both of you could go. 

Please just open up the door. 

Open up the door for me…

[dreamykira]

One Way or Another Pt. 2I IN-HO x reader

˗ˏˋSUMMARY ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤When the rebellion fails, you’re captured and taken to a secluded room, only to come face-to-face with the last person you ever expected— Young-il, the man you once trusted, now wearing the mask of the enemy. As the truth unravels, so do your emotions. Anger, betrayal, and something far more painful linger between you as he insists he did it all to protect you. But can you really believe him when blood stains his hands? When the man you knew as Young-il was never real to begin with?

˗ˏˋWARNINGS ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Betrayal, reader is tied up, mentions of killing. English is not my first language☺️ If I missed any, then please let me know!

˗ˏˋAUTHOR'S NOTE ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ im back🤩 i had a rough day at school today so if this is not good then im sorry. ALSOOOOO i opened my inbox so feel free to send me messages. i'll answer all of them!!! also you can send me ideas of what you think should be in the next part!!!

word count: 1679

The fight was over. The rebellion had failed.

The echoes of gunfire had long faded, replaced by the low hum of the facility’s power systems and the steady footsteps of guards patrolling the corridors. The scent of blood still clung to the air—metallic, nauseating—but the bodies were gone. Order had been restored.

And you…

You sat in a dimly lit room, wrists bound behind your back, the cold metal chair biting into your skin. Your breathing was uneven, each inhale sharp, each exhale unsteady. The walls were bare, sterile, giving you nothing to focus on except the weight of your own thoughts.

Then, the door opened.

A tall figure stepped inside, draped in black from head to toe. The cold glow from the hallway cast his form into stark relief, but it was the mask that sent a shudder through you—sharp, expressionless, empty. 

Your breath hitched, your body recoiling before you could stop yourself. A strangled sob tore from your throat as the weight of everything crashed down on you. You flinched violently, your vision blurring with tears.

“No—” The word barely left your lips before he moved.

“Calm down.” His voice was low, firm. Familiar.

Your trembling stilled, confusion warring with fear. The man lifted his hands, fingers curling under the edges of the mask. A quiet exhale left him before he pulled it off.

Dark eyes met yours.

Your stomach twisted.

Young-il—no. Not Young-il. You were sure that it was a fake name he had come up with on the spot.

He crouched in front of you, lowering himself to your level, watching you carefully. “It’s just me,” he said, voice low. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

But you were.

You were terrified.

Your lips trembled as you shook your head. “No,” you whispered, the word barely leaving your throat. “No, no, no—”

He reached out, his hand ghosting toward your knee. You jerked back instinctively, your bound wrists straining against the chair. He stilled, his fingers hovering inches away before he slowly withdrew.

Something flashed in his expression—something that almost looked like pain. But you didn’t trust your own eyes anymore.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

You glared at him, tears burning in your eyes. “What did you expect?” you choked out. “That I’d be happy to see you?”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “I expected you to understand.”

You laughed—a broken, bitter sound. “Understand?” The word was venom on your tongue. “You betrayed us.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I saved you. I promised I’d come back, and I’m a man of my words.”

You jerked against your restraints. “A man of your words?” Your voice shook, not with fear, but with anger. “You betrayed us! You killed them.” 

He tilted his head, as if weighing your words. “No,” he said after a pause. “I did what I had to. They were going to die either way.”

A sharp pain shot through your chest, raw and unbearable. “You don’t get to decide that.”

His eyes darkened, but his voice remained steady. “Yes, I do.”

Your breathing turned shallow. “So, what, you played along? Pretended to fight with us while you were really on the other side this whole time?”

“That’s not important right now,” he murmured under his breath, “I’ll explain everything once you’ve calmed down.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. The detachment in his voice—like the lives lost meant nothing—made your stomach twist.

“What matters right now is that you don’t have to play this game anymore,” he continued. “You’re free from it.”

“Free?” you repeated bitterly. “I’m tied to a chair.”

“That’s temporary.” He leaned in, his voice softening. “I had to make sure you wouldn’t do anything reckless.”

Your glare didn’t waver. “Reckless?” you spat. “You mean fighting for my life? For theirs?”

A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt, regret, something almost human. But it was gone just as fast, replaced by that unreadable calm.

“I mean running straight to your death,” he corrected.

Your chest tightened. “At least that would have been my choice.”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You still don’t understand.”

You swallowed hard, forcing back another wave of tears. “Then make me understand.”

His eyes softened—just slightly. “You were never supposed to make it this far,” he admitted. “Even if the rebellion had been successful, the remaining guards wouldn’t have let you walk away. They would have killed you.”

Your head shook automatically. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” His voice was quiet but firm, and the certainty in it made your skin crawl. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Your throat tightened. “Seen what?”

“The way rebellious players are dealt with.” There was no hesitation in his words. “At the end of the day, the guards follow my orders.”

A cold feeling settled in your stomach. 

“So you knew,” you whispered. “From the very beginning you knew that the plan was pointless. We would’ve died either way.”

He held your gaze, expression unreadable.

And then, after a long pause, he gave you the smallest nod.

You felt like crying. The burning sensation behind your eyes was painful, and you were ready to let the tears fall. 

But before you could break down completely, you had to ask him something.

Your breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. “Was any of it real? Was Young-il real?”

His jaw clenched and then, it softened into something you only got to see when the two of you were away from prying eyes. “You were real.”

You let out a broken laugh. “That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled, slow and controlled. “I didn’t lie about how I felt.”

Your pulse stuttered. “And how do you feel?”

He stared at you, long and hard, as if debating whether to say it. Then, quietly, he confessed, “I couldn’t let you die.”

Your chest ached. You wanted to believe him.

But how could you?

“You let everyone else die.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes dimmed. “I had to.”

You shook your head, your voice raw. “No, you chose to.”

A heavy silence settled between you.

Then, he reached forward again, slower this time, giving you a chance to pull away. You didn’t. His fingers grazed your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I never wanted you to be afraid of me,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened. “Then why did you become someone I had to fear?”

His hand stilled, his expression unreadable. “Because I had no other choice.”

Another wave of silence settled between you two. 

His fingers lingered against your skin for a moment longer before he pulled away, exhaling through his nose. Then, after a pause, he spoke.

"I'm going to untie you," he said, his voice measured. "But only if you promise not to do anything reckless."

A bitter scoff left your lips. "Oh, sure. I’ll be on my best behavior." You batted your lashes mockingly. "Wouldn’t want to upset the great Front Man, would I?"

He shot you a look, unimpressed but not entirely surprised. "I mean it."

You held his gaze, your wrists still aching from the restraints, but you weren’t about to make this easy for him. “Fine,” you muttered. “I promise.”

For a second, he hesitated, searching your face for any sign of deception. Whatever he found there must have satisfied him, because without another word, he reached behind you. The sharp pressure around your wrists loosened, and after a few moments, the restraints fell away.

As you rubbed at your sore wrists, trying to soothe the aching skin, In-ho’s gaze flickered downward. His expression darkened for a moment before he reached out, taking your wrist gently into his hands. You tensed at the contact, but he didn’t tighten his grip—he just held you there, his thumb brushing over the raw skin in a slow, almost absentminded motion.

“They tied it too tight,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. Then, his voice dropped lower, edged with irritation. “I told them to be gentle with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Fucking dickheads never listen.”

A breathy, disbelieving laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Did you just—”

His fingers traced over the marks again, and then, much softer this time, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

For the ropes. For betraying your team. For everything.

He didn’t say it outright, but you felt the weight of it anyway.

Before you could say anything, before you could even decide what to do with your newfound mobility, In-ho did something that caught you completely off guard.

He pulled you into his arms.

You stiffened, your mind screaming at you to shove him away, to resist, but your body betrayed you. The warmth of his embrace was jarring, familiar and foreign all at once. His hand came up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, holding you close.

"You don’t have to be afraid anymore," he murmured against your temple.

Your throat tightened. “You keep saying that,” you whispered, “but I don’t think you understand what you’ve done to me.”

His grip on you didn’t falter, and he didn’t say anything for a while. Instead, he let the silence stretch, his breath slow and steady against your skin.

After what felt like an eternity, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Young-il… was that ever your real name?”

He stilled.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes searching his face. He hesitated, the carefully constructed mask he wore slipping, just for a moment. Then, finally, he answered.

"In-ho."

The name settled between you like a weight, heavier than you expected.

You swallowed hard, staring at the man you thought you knew—at the man who had lied, betrayed, and yet somehow still looked at you like you were the only real thing left in his world.

"In-ho," you repeated, testing the name on your tongue.

And for the first time since he walked into the room, he looked almost vulnerable.

tag list: @androgynous-lady @avsarchivez

[wildymoon]

Why Hotguy (Probably) Isn't Possessed: A DDVAU Post

.... Or at least why it would be a bit biased to say that is the case right off the bat just cause the blorbo said something you really didn't like.

(NOTE: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DDVAU) (Also the images I've used are all from the comic, go take a look either on Tumblr or Webtoons)

Part 1: Would This Face Lie To You?

Yes. Because everyone has the capacity to lie, and Scar canonically has a silver tongue. Look at 3rd Life and try to tell me otherwise. I will laugh at you.

But the difference is framing. In 3rd Life and nearly everywhere else this silver tongue of Scar's is used, it's in a silly white lie way at best and simply to win a game at worst. Hell, even in other works I've seen it's primarily used to benefit others, not himself.

For this reason (among others that vary from person to person that I won't elaborate on here cause that's complicated), it becomes much easier to believe that Scar here isn't acting normal. He's tapping into his cunning side with much more ruthlessness than we're used to seeing from him normally, and thus we grasp for any other option. Not only that, but the Motherspore Incident gives us the perfect excuse for his behavior, especially with what is said at the end.

Was the target truly Grian, or were they trying to get at Hotguy? We won't know for sure until later, but the idea of him getting possessed is something for the copium to take advantage of, and as such it does so.

(Even for me. I have almost an entire two-monitor screenshot in which I copypasted almost every detailed Hotguy face to analyze and make a decision based on the expressions compared to the latest volume. This I will get into in the part dedicated to his expressions and why they matter for both sides of the argument.)

Either way, assuming someone who is known for using that silver tongue of his to get what he wants isn't doing that of his own free will, even if it feels unkind or out of character at first glance, isn't exactly the smartest thing.

Part 2: The "Pragmatic" Approach Is Not Kind

Aka, "local utilitarian explains the logic behind being a dick in this scenario", or "devil's advocate except the supposed devil is just a blorbo getting into real blackmail".

So, let's first consider Hotguy's primary options for how he could've taken that interrogation, and their effects. I'll list these in order of action taken against Grian for simplicity's sake:

Leave Grian alone entirely. At first, this looks like the best option. Grian needs time to heal, and Hotguy just barging on in like that is stressful at best for someone who'd just been told he got possessed and tried to kill people. But this temporary peace would come with consequences. With no one to tell the public otherwise, Grian would likely get arrested for hiding his status as a mutant from the government. So this one is simply not worth it.

Reason with Grian. This is the option most likely expected from Hotguy before the page rolled around. It gives him a chance to exercise the softer side of his silver tongue a bit more, and is a significantly less aggressive way of trying to get the information he needs to protect the public. The issue with this is that Grian is not cooperative. He does not like Hotguy very much, and definitely would give as little information as he possibly can to what is basically a cop. "Everything you say can and will be used against you," and all that jazz. He's also pretty much immune to Hotguy's charm, so being niceys won't change that. Essentially, no matter what way he goes about it he's going to have to deal in something that Grian actually cares about.

Blackmail Grian. This is the choice Hotguy made, and he didn't sugarcoat it very much either. I'm thinking the reason he did could be related to how he knew simply reasoning with Grian wouldn't work; had he really gone in with the honeyed words, Grian would've told him to cut the bullshit even sooner. This, while more visibly putting Grian in a spot of bother, isn't actually that much more dangerous for him than the other options. I've already explained why the first option actually sucks, and the second option relies on Grian trusting Hotguy (which he doesn't). It also gives Hotguy two things simultaneously: information (his priority), and keeping his friend out of jail (so long as he cooperates, which he has). The second thing may or may not be important to him, but it's still an added bonus. This is the option in which Hotguy is guaranteed to get the most information about the incident.

Turn Grian in immediately. If you hadn't realized there was a worse option than 3 then surprise! There is! This is the option that I believe would actually be out of character for Hotguy. Even if he wanted Grian imprisoned for whatever reason, his priority would still be to get information, nothing else. And there's no guarantee Grian would tell absolutely anything in custody, let alone anything about the incident. It would take potentially blackmailing him here to do it, and that feels like a step too far. Hotguy only needs information, and he knows stigma too well to truly take part in it, especially if it probably won't net him what he needs. So, not that option either.

In all, Hotguy's choice was the only one that could truly get him the yield he wanted: information on the attack in hopes he could prevent any further ones. Do I think he went too far? Yes. Absolutely. He should've stopped with his threats the moment he stopped asking actual questions about the incident. There was no reason (in my opinion) to continue with them.

But for the most part, I believe this isn't a man possessed, just a cop seeking intel. Speaking of.....

Part 3: "Duty"

Sorry guys, superheroes funded by the government are technically cops. This makes Hotguy a cop. Your blorbo is a cop.

In all seriousness, Hotguy does in fact have a job, and as such it is his duty to protect the citizens of the city from the bad and such, blah blah blah. This includes Grian, since he was possessed by the bad and not the bad itself (as such that makes him a victim).

The question, however, remains. "How best does one protect an entire city?" I've answered this already with Hotguy's highest priority in the interaction with Grian: information. To get this information while protecting the most citizens, he must threaten or harm at least one no matter what he does. Because simple threats harm the least, his answer is to threaten two for the sake of maximizing the future harm reduced.

It is, once again, a utilitarian stance on things. But if your goal isn't to be strict to the rules, that's how choices should be made: Not with biases, but with thought given to all options and all those affected.

Now, does his duty state he should be that much of an ass? No, but I already went over this. "He made the best overall choice but he should've been more considerate." It doesn't get much simpler than that.

Part 4: Expression And Tone - The Other Argument

Here we go. This is what originally inspired the making of this post, as an argument for the side that claimed Scar was possessed.

The reason behind it? I'd noticed a significant shift in Hotguy's expressions even without going through each individual page. As someone who cannot read body language for shit usually, this was a pretty significant indicator that something was wrong for me.

Upon further inspection and reflection, this isn't quite the cause for alarm I'd thought it was, but it's still one of the better arguments for Scar being possessed so I'll elaborate.

Before the Motherspore Incident, each of Hotguy's expressions that were close enough to the camera to be drawn properly showed at least one eye through his visor. There is exactly ONE exception to this in my eyes, and even that one can fit in with my claim here: Hotguy's action shot in Chapter 7.

Here, the panel is big enough that if it was any regular panel it would likely show his eyes, but the visor is too small to really draw good eyes for the panel here, not to mention it would probably take away from the composition. But that's not what's important here; that honor goes to the fact that this is the only instance of a bigger panel in which Hotguy's eyes are not shown.

.... Up until Motherspore, that is.

Here, this makes sense: The eye in the first one would get in the way of the text, and in the second one his hair is covering his visor. The third is an action shot, similar to the one in Chapter 7. These make sense.

But then... something shifts once the fight is over and Hotguy carries Grian out. Once he reaches the outside, the amount of times we see his eyes, his expression? TWO.

Both are heavily simplified, with specific intent on making his expression clear on a small panel, but in every other panel from that point on in the chapter show him with the visor covering his expression.

And that's when we get into Chapters 14 and 15. This is when the shift becomes obvious. Instead of all his expressions on large enough panels showing at least one of his eyes, instead we're given almost the exact opposite.

This is the only. I repeat. The ONLY larger panel in which both his eyes are shown (when he has the visor on) since the end of Motherspore.

It's almost the only panel in the entirety of the chapter like that, but there's a singular smaller panel here with both his eyes:

That's it. Everything else has the way his expressions interacting with his visor the exact opposite way from the entire rest of the story so far.

This is why I thought he was, in fact, possessed at first. It was such a dramatic change that, when you don't consider the other reasons why this could be the case, it feels wrong. It feels like he could be possessed.

Especially if you consider this as related to it:

It just feels, if you compile everything together and build that argument, as something that could be plausible.

Plausible, not guaranteed. But plausible nonetheless.

But what could go against this? The tone.

Because, before Motherspore, this whole thing had a much more lighthearted tone. Hotguy had a much more lighthearted tone. Then he has to handle Motherspore. Then, the public, after a fight that made him require backup (true backup, unlike what we see from Cuteguy).

He puts on a mask to the public. That's what happened at the end of Chapter 13.

And then again, when facing Grian. He cannot slip up, cannot let Grian notice who he is or even consider it. He puts on a mask to ensure he can get what he wants safely. That's why we only see his eyes open behind his visor the one time, when Grian cannot look at his face.

He's taking a page from Cuteguy's book, in a way. Not the newest trick in any book, but I figure y'all'd like the connection.

Part 5: In Conclusion

Is Scar possessed? No, probably not. There's always a chance, but it's more likely that everyone got a bit blindsided by the cutthroat way Hotguy handled interrogations.

Remember that characters can make bad or mean decisions! Even if that character is meant to be a good guy, they still can make these choices, mistake or not. Sometimes, it's the best decision they can make. And sometimes, they just went about it in a way they probably shouldn't've.

Either way Hotguy's going to pay in spades by however Cuteguy's going to handle meeting him again, probably.

Bonus: All those copypasted Hotguy faces, for your enjoyment and my going bonkers insane

(There are no notes written down here because I am bonkers on the level that my brain moves too fast to type it all down.)

(ONCE AGAIN, the images I've used are all from the comic, go take a look either on Tumblr or Webtoons)

[butt3rmilkbunny]

My current thoughts that have been rattling around in my noggin about Papá Perpetua are so incoherent and I’m posting them here because I think my dad’s tired of listening to me ramble while he plays guitar lol, and I like posting my random thoughts lol.

They are as follows (in no particular order and in no way super detailed or well thought out, very jumbled and stream of consciousness lol):

- Obviously 7 is part of the imagery in all the promo stuff we’ve seen and is significant in some way. We are also technically in era 7 (Nihil, Primo, Secondo, Terzo, Copia, Papa IV, Frater/papa V makes 7). The number 7 can mean sacrifice, purification, consecration, forgiveness, and reward; though I’ve also seen it mean completeness. (I saw a post about the whole 7 imagery a few months back and cannot for the life of me find it now lol.)

So I could definitely see Papa V sticking around for a while.

- I’ve seen an interview clip where Tobias Forge has said he’s developed slight claustrophobia from the mask, and I’ve read that that type of mask makes it harder to sing, but I’ve also seen interviews where it’s said he wouldn’t go completely without the mask. I like to envision a half mask of some sort like the phantom of the opera!

Though I also do believe in the theory that Papá V is Copia’s twin (cause of seestor’s memories in RHRN) (also because who has the most employee of the month awards of Copia has the second most), so maybe we’ll still get a full head mask because they would logically have to look similar enough.

Also also, I’m curious, if Perpetua is indeed Copia’s twin, how Tobias will go about Copia knowing about his twin. Like, will it be a long lost brother situation, surely not if Perpetua’s already within the ministry; but who’s to say. I want more family soap opera!

Phantom of the opera Papá would be fun tho because I LOVE phantom of the opera dearly, and I feel like Ghost would do wonders with the theatrics POTO theming allows for. (Papa of the opera, if you will lol)

- I love that Seestor named her boys ‘abundance/plenty’ and ‘eternal/everlasting’.

On that note, Papa V’s name def makes me think this will be the Papa we have for quite some time. I’ve seen people say that this will be the last Papá we get unless Tobias’s kids take over (I saw so many people adamant that his kids would take over) so who knows. Only time will tell. I’m just excited to see the new lore and also the COSTUMES!

The Papa’s have been getting progressing more sparkly in the costumes so I’m expecting Papa V to have maximum sparkles. Bedazzled to the fullest. (I saw one tweet that was like ‘Tobias Forge is taking so long because he has to bedazzle all of the costumes’ lol)

- My dream for the ghoul costumes for some reason (which I will implement into my own reimagining of the ministry I work on for funsies) is for the costumes to have little bat wings on the back. Idk why I’m so obsessed with the idea but yeah lol. I’m so excited to see the ghoul costumes if they change for Papa V. - I've seen people think it's Terzo, and I've seen some really good points made as to why. A few included the fact that the silhouette in the doorway is the same, that Terzo's foot twitched n the morgue and that there are scratch marks on his coffin, there was something to do with a certain song that maybe hinted at Papa Perpetua débuting when Terzo was Papa, as well as some other ones. While I do enjoy this theory, I'm more of a Copia's Twin theory believer. (Though I did see someone one time theorize that Terzo is Copia's twin lol).

I also saw a theory on tiktok that I cannot find again that talked about how Copia and Perpetua switched when Copia became Papa. I liked the idea though I kind of struggled to grasp it when first reading it lol. The idea is cool though! - I also saw someone on Tiktok point out that all of the songs on the V IS COMING Loma Vista playlist, the first letters spell out SATANIZED. I assume it's the name of a new song, maybe whatever was teased in the fiasco chapter, or maybe the album name.

[witchingwithscissors]

The move-in dinner had turned into a regular thing.

At first, it was casual—Leslie and Ann dropping by to borrow sugar (Ann swearing she’d finally make an edible cake) or Rio troubleshooting Leslie’s work laptop while Agatha and Ann exchanged knowing looks over their wine glasses. But somewhere along the way, it became something more structured, something needed.

The four of them—Agatha, Rio, Leslie, and Ann—found an easy rhythm. With demanding jobs, kids, and the chaos of life, their time together became sacred.

Finding a babysitter who could handle three strong-willed, occasionally feral children was a feat in itself.

Nicky was sweet but had his mother’s sharp eye and Rio’s uncanny ability to talk people into things (even if he didn’t realize it yet). Leslie and Ann’s twins, Max and Elliot, were another challenge entirely—equal parts Leslie’s stubborn confidence and Ann’s chaotic curiosity. They were a unit, smart and occasionally terrifying.

After a long search, Agatha and Rio finally found their match: Emily, a sophomore in college, pre-law, eager to build a resume for her “future as a high-powered attorney.” The first interview had been smooth—until the magazine cover came up.

“So, uh,” Emily had said, shifting nervously in her seat, glancing between Agatha and Rio. “I just wanted to say… I saw your Entrepreneur cover. It was really inspiring. Like, seeing a queer Latina woman in tech at that level? Huge.”

Agatha had lost it.

She had to turn away, biting her lip to keep from laughing, while Rio groaned and covered her face with both hands.

“You researched me?” Rio muttered, peeking through her fingers.

Emily straightened her shoulders. “I do my homework.”

Agatha, still smirking, took a sip of wine. “Oh, I love her.”

Emily had been hired on the spot.

Once the kids were down for the night—Nicky tucked in with his latest dinosaur book, Max and Elliot probably asleep after arguing about whose Pokémon team was stronger—the women would slip away.

At first, it had been Leslie’s idea.

“We need a night off,” she declared one evening, shutting her laptop after a 14-hour workday. “A proper one. No interruptions. No diapers. No dishes.”

Ann gasped dramatically. “Are you saying you don’t love my burnt cookies and existential dread at 9 PM?”

Leslie pressed a kiss to the top of her wife’s head. “I love your existential dread. But I also love overpriced cocktails and making fun of twenty-somethings on dates.”

Agatha had been the hardest to convince, but Rio had given her one of those looks—soft, teasing, insistent.

“Come on, boss lady,” she murmured, bumping her shoulder. “Live a little.”

And so it began.

They had their spots:

The Wine Bar: Dim lighting, exposed brick, a bartender who knew Ann’s order before she sat down. This was for deep conversations, work rants, and Leslie giving impassioned speeches about city policies that needed to change.

The Cocktail Lounge: Dramatic. Rooftop views. Way too expensive. Agatha rolled her eyes every time Rio ordered some ridiculous drink with edible glitter, but then Leslie would challenge her to a round of darts, and somehow, the night always ended with Ann recording Rio dramatically singing “Landslide” during karaoke. Brittana forever.

The 24-Hour Diner: When all else failed—when heels came off and makeup smudged—they ended up here, sharing a plate of fries, Leslie half-asleep against Ann’s shoulder, Rio feeding Agatha bites of pie when she wasn’t paying attention.

Some nights, they didn’t even go out. Some nights, they ended up on Leslie and Ann’s couch, drinking wine in sweatpants while Ann attempted (and failed) to bake something edible.

“I followed the recipe,” Ann huffed, staring down at her collapsed cake.

“I think the recipe filed a restraining order against you,” Rio said, inspecting the mess.

Leslie, exhausted from another workday, just pulled Ann into her arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re a little beautiful-disaster-bicorn-butterfly-toadstool-fairy, and I love you.”

Ann sighed dramatically. “I am a disaster.”

Agatha, curled up next to Rio, smirked. “At least you’ve accepted it.”

The apartment still smelled like chocolate and rum, the scent lingering long after Leslie and Ann had left for the night. The kitchen was a mess—half-melted chunks of a very boozy chocolate rum cake, empty wine glasses, and a flour-dusted counter that hinted at Ann’s latest chaotic attempt at baking.

Agatha stood at the sink, arms crossed, watching as Rio—sleeves pushed up, hair slipping loose from her ponytail—washed the dishes.

The domesticity of it made something catch in her throat.

She had spent her entire adult life building something stable, something controlled. Love had never been a priority. Not until Rio.

And now? Now Rio was standing in their kitchen, scrubbing chocolate from a plate with a concentrated frown, completely unaware that she was everything.

Agatha’s fingers curled around the small black velvet box now deliberately in her pocket.

She stepped forward, reaching into her pocket and setting the black box on the counter beside the sink.

Rio didn’t notice at first.

“Rio,” Agatha said softly.

“Hm?” Rio didn’t look up, still rinsing a plate.

Agatha swallowed, then took a steadying breath. “Look at me.”

Rio turned—and froze.

Agatha flipped the box open with her thumb, the ring catching the dim kitchen light, silver and brilliant, a reflection of everything she felt but never knew how to say.

“I want you to be my forever person,” Agatha murmured. “You already are—but I want it to be official. I want you to be my wife. I want to build everything with you. I want you to be Nicky’s other mom. I want every night, every morning, every future with you.”

Rio blinked, lips parted, but no words came out.

“Rio,” Agatha added, arching an eyebrow, “if you don’t answer soon, I will take this ring back—”

“Yes,” Rio breathed. Then, louder, as if snapping back to reality: “Fuck yes!”

Agatha barely had time to react before Rio cupped her face and kissed her—deep, desperate, like she had been waiting for this moment without even realizing it. It was all heat and urgency, tongues tangling, hands roaming with a kind of hunger that made Agatha’s knees weak. And then there was Rio’s hand—now adorned with an engagement ring—sliding up Agatha’s waist, gripping, pulling, claiming.

Later, as Agatha lay against Rio’s chest, fingers trailing over her newly adorned hand, Rio’s gaze flicked down to the ring—and her face changed.

“Wait,” she said, sitting up. “This ring. This very large, very expensive ring.”

Agatha lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “It’s just a ring.”

Rio narrowed her eyes. “How much?”

Agatha took a slow sip of wine.

“Agatha.”

“…A reasonable amount.”

“Agatha.”

“…Two hundred thousand.”

Rio choked. “TWO HUNDRED—WHAT THE HELL? Take it back. Return it. Donate the money.”

Agatha sighed. “Fine.”

Rio searched her face. “And the ring?”

Agatha simply slid it onto Rio’s finger. “Stays.”

Rio exhaled, shaking her head. “…You’re impossible.”

Agatha smirked. “And yet, you love me for it.”

Rio tugged her closer, her voice a low murmur, lips grazing the shell of Agatha’s ear. “You owe me for this.”

Agatha got the girl, so in a way… yeah, she did.

Which was how Agatha found herself thoroughly and relentlessly worshiped in the bedroom for the next month straight.

And Rio?

Rio never brought up returning the ring again.

[raspberry-gloaming]

Does anyone like both Nevermoor and Agents of Shield because ugh I have au ideas so badly and if anyone wants to brainrot with me - I'd love to

[dahldahlbills]

I really need to get serious about personal projects again

[fortunately-bi]

Have I mentioned I accidentally learned what overdosing on antihistamines feels like last week so yes I have been a lil weird lately

[orpheuslament]

agreed! ive also come to kinda scoff at the term queerbaiting because most often than not when people talk about it what theyre Really talking about is queercoding, which is a vastly different thing. queerbaiting is a relatively modern concept that applies to a handful of stories in which the writers are being purposely vague & well, baity, in order to appeal to a queer demographic. dangling the idea of representation in front of their faces only to pull back at the last second. in these stories queerness is usually employed as a punchline, a joke, something they (the writers) can laugh about. as if saying "wouldnt it be funny if these two were actually gay? wouldnt it be hilarious?". queercoding, on the other hand, is subtle. its poetry, its language. not saying it cant be used maliciously, or that its not used to set up a joke at the expense of the alleged queer, it can. it has. think of every single old-school disney villain, for example. still, i find myself being incredibly fond of queercoded characters & narratives, there is something about them that you barely see in modern gay representation. i would guess it has to do with the fact that characters in these kind of stories were allowed to be people, flawed complicated beings who are struggling with their identity, instead of solely being "the gay character". then again it could be, as i said before, that i simply find repression sexy. guess we will never know

literally the only good thing to come out of the hayes code is that filmmakers had to be incredibly clever in order to get away with whatever they were trying to convey which gave way to really interesting workarounds & visual metaphors that are still being used to this day!!!! so it added a lot to the already pretty rich language of cinema. also repression is inherently sexy but thats another conversation

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[asneakyfox]

like, look, stede thinks ed wants an unfair division of labor where ed only does stuff he thinks is fun, and in another context that would be a VERY reasonable complaint, but HERE part of the context is that stede's saying they need to fix this in order to make the inn successful, and the inn being successful is kind of the problem. they don't need to make the inn a success! it's already doing well and that's what's making them miserable!

stede is the one who seems to care about the inn being successful and wants ed to work harder at it. but stede is also the one who straight up does not seem to enjoy any part of innkeeping. the framing thus far seems to suggest pretty strongly that ed working harder would not actually solve stede's problem because stede doesn't actually seem to like ANY part of this whole innkeeper gig.

ed meanwhile has been pretty straightforward from the beginning - all the way back to 2x03 when it came up for the first time - that he liked the idea of an inn and he enjoys some aspects of innkeeping, like nonviolent socialization with people who actually want to be around him and getting to be weird about fabrics, but ultimately none of this is about a passion for the hospitality industry. what he wanted was to retire from piracy with stede and get to do some kind of chill normal domestic thing where they'd both be safe. and then ghost izzy points out that yeah you had barely conceived of the concept of retirement when you came up with this so it's not surprising your first plan for how it would work was maybe not as ideal as it sounded at the time.

as far as i can tell this is a problem that would not be solved by ed working harder or being more appreciative and IS a problem that would be solved the instant either one of them said "hey i don't think i really like innkeeping all that much, do you? do you think there's something we could do together that's not innkeeping or piracy? (or maybe there's some alternate way to do piracy where we're not in constant danger and ed doesn't have to be blackbeard idk?) because what really matters to me isn't the fucking inn, it's that i'm with you and we're both happy."

i just don't see any way this is leading up to a resolution where ed, like, realizes he's been immature and ungrateful and he's failing to appreciate stede just like he always exploited izzy's devotion or some kind of shit like that. and not just because that isn't how i've read these characters before this point but mostly because that really doesn't make sense to me as where the bsky narrative on its own could possibly be going. that would only make sense if it were going to end with the two of them rededicating themselves to the inn with a renewed sense of passion for hospitality and a more equitable division of labor or something and lmao that is not going to fucking happen. we have all known that inn was doomed for a year. that's the one thing every single member of the cast crew and fandom have consistently agreed on. the inn is a valuable learning experience in the short term but in the long term the inn sucks! fuck that inn!

i've seen this from a couple different people but i really think it's a misread to think the character arc of gentlebeard in the djenks holiday special is actually that ed is just being lazy and doesn't want to do hard stuff and he needs to be managed. i mean, he could probably help stede out more, but that doesn't look to me like the core of the actual problem at all?

it seems to me like what's going on is that stede is determined to Not Run Away. "i'm not changing my life again." stede abandoned his first marriage, and then he abandoned ed, and then he abandoned his first marriage AGAIN, and then he abandoned piracy, and now! now he's supposed to have things figured out! now he's not going to be a guy who runs anymore! now is when he shows that he can commit to things! he's committed to his life with ed and part of his life with ed is being innkeepers so THE INN HAS TO SUCCEED AT ALL COSTS.

he cannot admit even inside his own mind that he just fucking hates innkeeping, because that would mean admitting failure. innkeeping was ed's dream! how could he be selfish enough to give up on ed's dream? he's gotten his brain into a state where the success of the inn equals the success of his relationship with ed, and he's gotten so obsessed with that he's not paying attention to their actual relationship. and at the same time he's miserable so it comes out as frustration with ed because it can't be that he doesn't like innkeeping and he's working so hard he can't do any more so surely it must be that ed's the one who needs to be more committed?

(plus what would he do instead? he doesn't want to go back to piracy because he doesn't want to die anymore, or see ed die, and what other options are there? if he admits he hates the inn then he'd have to admit he doesn't actually KNOW what he wants to do and that would be terrible because maybe the problem is him, maybe he'll always feel like this wherever he goes, maybe he just doesn't know how to be happy)

what he needs to say is "i want to be with you but i don't want to be innkeepers, can we figure out something else?" but he cannot say that, he can't even think that, and it comes out as "why aren't you helping with cakes more?" it's not about the cakes.

[daretoassume]

this is how you build your OWN beliefs from scratch

beliefs are the foundation of creating the life you desire, along with your inner conversations and emotions. this is why it is important to examine all the beliefs you have in every area of your life, especially those about people and yourself, to see if they align with your natural self, which is your divine self.

i said "own" because we picked up beliefs from the people we were surrounded by as children, having no choice at that time but to accept them. however, the idea is that you always have a choice to choose or create your own beliefs that align with your true self and will shape a whole new reality. if you want to build your beliefs from scratch, you need to:

identify the old beliefs – you cannot change something you are not aware of.

unlearn the old beliefs – ask yourself if they are true for you or if they align with your truth.

list the "new" beliefs – form beliefs that are true for you, true to your divine self.

act on the "new" beliefs – behave in a way that is more aligned with those beliefs.

persist – continue to choose the new beliefs you created moment to moment, even if the situation remains the same.

i definitely recommend having a journal when practicing unlearning beliefs that don't serve you, as it makes you more aware of them, making it easier to remove or replace those beliefs. doing shadow work is one way to deeply investigate what is happening inside you, why you believed the old beliefs, where they came from, how to make peace with them, and how to let them go.

once you have chosen those new beliefs, you must perpetuate them every day, especially when a situation challenges you—particularly your emotions—to choose that new belief for you to experience a new reality. because you cannot just list them and then forget about them. your behavior should match these new beliefs until it becomes natural for you to think and act in that way.

"..because in the next moment it is a whole new reality. you actually have to keep choosing the belief every single nanosecond in order to actually have an experience of ongoing perpetuation." ♱ bashar (darryl anka)

to truly experience this whole new reality you desire, persist in your new ideas, new beliefs, and the thoughts and behaviors aligned with those ideas and beliefs. it may be uncomfortable at first, but that is also just a belief. if you find it hard to attain, as i said, doing shadow work will really help you. this is just a reminder that you always have a choice. always choose what is aligned with your natural self.

[k3n-dyll]

☆F.U.C.K

Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, also, written at 2am, established friends with benefits, self-indulgent smut, dom!Abby, shower sex, strap on (r!receiving), strap referred to as a dick/cock Word Count:2.08k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ The next fic I have based on a song will not be as fun! Just a heads up. Also, two works back to back within a few hours? We're so back

FWB!Abby who isn't known to be very open about her sexuality. Sure, there are rumors, and there are people she's told that she's lesbian, but that list is pretty limited to close friends. It's not that she's trying to hide it, anyone with working eyes who takes more than a second or two to look at her can tell, she just doesn't feel like it's anyone's business but her own.

And yours of course.

Abby's never been particularly sappy or romantic. Still, despite how intense her day-to-day is - fighting Scars, killing infected, being on high alert at every turn because there's no way of knowing what will be the next thing to try and kill her first - she's a bit of a thrill seeker in her own way. The idea of doing something seemingly forbidden, the rush of nearly getting caught doing something less than savory, has never failed to be a turn-on for her and it's something that, over time, you've become acutely aware of. She's gotten into the habit of dragging you into bathrooms, and storage closets, sometimes even taking it upon herself to get handsy underneath tables when in the presence of others just to see that nervous look you get.

It should be no shock to you that she'd do something like this and yet, you're still baffled.

The showers were peaceful today, it was late and most people were either asleep or just waking up for their own shifts. After a long patrol, all you wanted to do was turn on the hot water and let it soak over your aching muscles, washing the blood, dirt, and sweat that had accumulated on your skin down the drain. You weren't expecting to feel a large pair of hands gripping at your waist in the shower, and if you hadn't known better, you might have started swinging.

"Abby, what the hell?" You flinch a little under her grasp, and while you try to sound angry, the amused chuckle that forms with your words is hard to stifle.

"Nice to see you too" Abby mutters, already beginning an assault on your neck with her lips, trailing wet kisses down your skin as she speaks.

"I thought you said you were tired" You try and turn to face her but you're only met with a tightened grip on your body, forcing you to face the glass shower wall.

"I lied."

Before you can think up something snarky to say, Abby presses her front up against you further and you stiffen completely, the sensation of something that definitely isn't normally there now flush against your ass.

"What is that?" You question, turning your head in attempt to get a look at whatever it is she's got rubbing against you, but again she forces your eyes forward, grabbing your chin to make you face the wall again.

"I want you to guess." She purrs, nipping at your earlobe, unable to stop herself from letting out a low chuckle. "C'mon, baby, I know you remember. That shop we passed by the other day? You were all curious about it, but we never got the chance to really look around."

In order to somewhat jog your memory, one of her hands releases its grip on you, wrapping around what she has and pressing it between your soaked thighs, shallowly thrusting it between them. Your breath hitches at the feeling and the memory comes flooding back into your mind. It was a few days back - Manny had pointed out an old sex shop and being the man he is he just couldn't shut up about it. Mostly he'd bragged about how, as much as he'd like to experiment, his own hands and body got the job done just fine.

In the moment it was funny, and a little stupid. The three of you managed to catch a quick glimpse of the interior, seeing some of the different toys that hadn't been looted or destroyed and joking about all of the time people in the Old World must have had to be so experimental with their sex lives. Unbeknownst to you, one toy in particular had caught Abby's eye. She didn't point it out to you or Manny, but right before you all had to leave, the rest of your patrol group having already started packing up to head back to base, she'd hidden it so that she could go back for it later. And she did.

"Figured it out, pretty girl?"

Abby's voice snaps you out of your head and you nod, coaxing another low chuckle out of her.

"You wanna see it?"

The moment her hold on you loosens you turn around, eyes panning down her toned, naked frame to the black harness that was fixed around her hips and landing on the toy that had just been sliding up against your cunt. Your eyes widen at the sight of the thick, purple silicone toy dangling from her body, and as much as you'd like to deny the immediate heat that rises in your belly at the sight of it, you can't.

"I don't think that's gonna fit. And...and what if we get caught, Abs you can't just hide that thing"

You say it without much thought, your words forcing a genuine laugh out of your 'friend'. She shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes.

"You worry too much, baby. I locked the door. If someone comes knocking, I can just get out and tuck it in my bag before we open the door" She reassures as she gently guides you by your waist to the fogged-up wall, pressing you against it. "And trust me, once I get you nice and warmed up, it'll fit"

Abby sinks to her knees in front of you without another word, settling herself between your legs and dragging her tongue along your slit. The doubt that was once present in the front of your mind quickly starts to fade as she laps at your dripping heat, your hands weaving into her wet hair and holding on to keep her in place. You feel the tip of two of her thick fingers dip into your pussy, coating the digits with your arousal before slipping them into you completely.

She never failed to have this effect on you, and if it weren't so sexy, it'd be frustrating. Your mind is so quick to go blank under her touch, hips unconsciously grinding against her tongue as she swirls it along your puffy clit. Abby's unusually slow about it at first, curling and scissoring her fingers in and out of you, making sure to prepare you as best she can, but by the time she slips in a third finger her impatience and excitement makes itself known. You're practically teetering at the edge of an orgasm when she pulls away from you entirely, a whine escaping you as you're denied a release.

"Abby..."

"Shh, baby I know" Abby murmurs, standing back up, smiling softly as she watches your brows fix together. "I want you to cum on my cock, not my fingers. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Something about the way she refers to it as her own, as if she'd grown it herself sends a shock of electricity through you, and you answer her with an eager nod.

"Atta girl, now be good for me and turn around" She instructs, pushing you flush against the glass when you obey her command.

Abby knows how badly you must be aching at this point, her own precum leaking down her thighs as her eyes rove over your back. Even so, she takes her time, fucking your thighs, calloused palms spreading your ass a bit to get a better view. She groans at the sight of your essence combining with the water, making the dildo glisten in the fluorescent lights.

"God, you're so fucking wet" She whispers. "So ready to get split on my fuckin' dick, aren't you?"

The desperate little whines and the way you wiggle your ass back onto her is all the confirmation she needs to slowly push in, though, to neither of your surprise with how soaked you are, it proves to be rather easy. The difference is almost funny to her. You looked so nervous when you'd seen it initially, and now you were sucking her in like you were used to it.

"There ya go, slipped in so fast baby, fuck"

The way Abby moans when the toy is all the way inside of you, the way she struggles to keep at a slow pace to make sure you're well adjusted to the girth - you'd think she could feel it. It's an adjustment for both of you, the task of keeping it from fully slipping out of you when she pulls back proving to be a tad more annoying than she thought it would be, but she figures it out. And, God, if it isn't fucking worth it when she does.

Each thrust is like a shock to your system, Abby's pace only increasing as she loses herself in the moment. She could probably - and likely will end up - cumming from this alone. It was already a bit of a fantasy in her mind, having often wondered what it would be like to fuck you like this, but she didn't think she actually could. Her vivid blues are transfixed on the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin only made more intense by the water flowing along your bare bodies.

"A-Abby I- oh my god, please!" Words barely come out of you, and when they do, they're choppy breathless rambles with no real substance. Normally you were so careful about volume, but there are always times when she'd fucked you so stupid that you stopped caring. This, for example, being one of those times.

"So fuckin' pretty...you look so fuckin' pretty trying to take it for me" Her grip on your hips is bound to leave bruising, but all you can think about is how grateful you are for that fact. If not for her hands, you'd be on the ground by now, legs shaking and unable to hold your weight any longer.

Abby knows your tells well enough to see when you're about to explode - the incoherent sobs, twitching legs, your hands desperately trying to grab onto everything - anything that could possibly help ground you even a little bit. It only eggs her on, her arm snaking around your body to rub feverishly at your aching clit, almost impatient in her need to watch you come apart for her.

"Fuck, don't stop Abby, please, 'm so close...so fuckin' close" You manage to blurt out, damn near crying at the intensity, eyes rolled into the back of your head, head lulled forward against the wall. It's taking everything in you not to fall apart this instant but you want to drag it out for just a little longer.

"Almost there, honey, I got you... C-c'mon, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking cock"

The white-hot intensity of your orgasm sends you reeling, a string of curses and choked cries spilling from your lips, arousal further wetting your inner thighs as it spurts out of you. Abby can't help but moan loudly at the sight, continuing to pump in and out of you to let the base of the toy bump against her clit more, her own climax following soon after yours.

Somehow, Abby manages to stay upright despite her legs feeling like putty, knowing full well that if she falls you'll go down with her. Her strong arms wrap around you tightly as she pulls out of you, her sweaty forehead resting against your back as you both work to catch your breath.

"Fuck..that was..." She trails off, the actual strain of her actions hitting her body, making it difficult for her to get a word out between breaths. You giggle at the sound of her struggle, though you aren't doing any better.

"So fucking good.." Is all you breathe out, your mind still too fuzzy to think of something better to say.

Abby just nods, lacking the energy to say something snarky in response, the only sound remaining being the now cold water from the showerhead pitter-pattering against the ground, though eventually, she does force herself to speak up once more.

"Once I....catch my fuckin' breath...we're so doing that again"

Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,