#3 easiest step

[hongirananews]

make money easily ! 3 easiest step....

make money easily ! 3 easiest step....

It’s important to note that making money easily is subjective and can vary depending on individual circumstances. While there is no foolproof method, here are three steps or tips that can potentially help you increase your income: 1:- Identify a Lucrative Opportunity: Research and identify a niche or market that has high demand and offers potential for profitability. Look for areas where you have…

[dailyfigures]

i'm an hour into writing a way too long step by step guide on how to spot bootlegs i better never see anyone falling for a bootleg again after i post this

[alaraxia]

so below

reposting because I noticed some scaling issues

[weirdloverwilde]

bridgerton not beating life ends with marriage allegations

[vvenuspng]

i have an inkling.. i might start to feel ok enough to post soon.. at some point.. eventually...!! <3 so!! maybe art?!! who knows……..

[10518]

no one I know follows this afaik (thank god) but ohhhhhhhhhh god when will I stop being like this. I’m not even in a place to be in a relationship rn but I’m utterly miserable over someone who barely gives me the time of day anymore & may or may not be openly flirting with someone else in front of me even after everything & like. kms forever and ever

[95773793]

Enter Your Details to have a Chance to Win a $100 Cash App Now!

[kuromi-hoemie]

she ended up being everyone's favorite (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟwould luv to have another trans woman of color i could talk with regularly if even just about work 👉🏾👈🏾 very excited!!!!! augh i hope she accepts the offer 😭😩 she really nailed the interview.

interviewed a very beautiful Afghani trans woman just now and I'm gonna be thinking about it the rest of the day.

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

Becoming an Intelligent Woman

My Dears,

There is no greater goal than being a fine woman who is intelligent, kind, and elegant. As much as we all want to be described with these adjectives, it takes a great amount of discipline to get there. It is very doable only if you are ready to put in the work.

Here are steps you can add to your routine in the next 4 weeks that will make you 1% more intelligent than you were before. This is a process that should become a habit not a goal. It is long term, however, I want you to devote just 4 weeks into doing these steps first and recognize the changes that follow.

Watch documentaries: This is the easiest step, we all have access to Youtube. Youtube has a great number of content on art, history, technology, food, science etc that will increase your knowledge and pique your curiosity. I really did not know much about world history especially from the perspective of World war 1 & 2, the roaring 20s, Age of Enlightenment, Jazz era, monarchies etc but with several channels dedicated to breaking down history into easily digestible forms. I have in the last 4 weeks immersed myself into these documentaries. Here are a few I watched:

The fall of monarchies

The Entire History of United Kingdom

The Eight Ages of Greece

World War 1

World War 2

The Roaring '20s

The Cuisine of the Enlightenment

2. Read Classics: I recommend starting with short classics so that you do not get easily discouraged. Try to make reading easy and interesting especially if you struggle with finishing a book. Why classics? You see, if you never went to an exclusive private school in Europe or America with well crafted syllabus that emphasized philosophy, history, art, and literary classics, you might want to know what is felt like and for me this was a strong reason. Asides that, there is so much wisdom and knowledge available in these books. In these books, you gain insights to the authors mind, the historical context of the era, the ingenuity of the author, the hidden messages, and the cultural impact of these books. Most importantly, you develop your personal philosophy from the stories and lessons you have accumulated from the lives of the characters in the books you read. Here are classics to get you started:

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

Candide by Voltaire

Paradise lost by John Milton

3. Study the lives of people who inspire you: I dedicate one month to each person that fascinates me. I read their biography (date of birth, background, death, influences, work, style, education, personal life) For this month, I decided to study Frank Lloyd Wright because I was fascinated by the Guggenheim Museum in New York. I began to read about his influence in American Architecture (Organic architecture, Prairie School, Usonian style), his tumultuous personal life, his difficult relationship with his mentor (Louis Sullivan), his most iconic works etc. By the end of the year I would have learned the ins and outs of people I am inspired by through books and documentaries. Here are other people I plan to learn more about:

Winston Churchill

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Ada Lovelace

Benjamin Franklin

Helen Keller

John Nash

Isabella Stewart Gardner

Caroline Herrera

Ernest Hemingway

Catherine the Great

Ann Lowe

My dears, I hope you enjoyed this read. I cannot wait to write more on my journey to becoming a fine woman. I urge you to do this for four weeks and see what changes you notice. Make sure to write as well, it is important to document your progress.

Cheers to a very prosperous 2024!

[urlocal-limitesshbic]

*.˗ˏˋ DEILD- The Quickest And Easiest Method To Lucid Dream That I know ´ˎ˗.*

Listennnn, I love the lucid dream method down. It is AND ALWAYS WILL BE my favorite way to shift, apart from the void state.

BUT I know I cannot be the only one struggling to get lucid😩😭 At least I used to struggle before I found DEILD. I found other techniques tedious, having to do constant reality checks during the day felt like a chore and lying completely still in bed for 30+ minutes waiting for my body to fall asleep was quite literally torture to me. IF I could stay awake through it because most times I couldn’t or just rolled over and gave up because nothing was happening and I was très uncomfortable.

I’ve tried mild, SSILD, fild, ALL THE “ILDS” every single one and while they are effective, I’ve finally found the technique that works best for me and takes the least amount of time so I thought I would share, just in case it may help someone else!

With this technique you…..

Go from being awake directly into a lucid dream without falling asleep (this is called a wake initiated lucid dream and in my experience I feel more aware and in control with these vs when I randomly become aware in the middle of my dream. They are also easier to remember if you have poor dream recall. )

Are able to start the lucid dream scene in the privacy of your own room so you don’t have to worry about trying to shift in the middle of distracting dream scenes or dealing with distracting dream characters

You can save a Lucid dream that’s been cut short or even have several lucid dreams in one night using this method

Don’t need to do reality checks during the day if you don’t want to or do any other daytime prep

The whole thing takes 10-30 seconds START TO FINISH!

The technique…

*.˗ˏˋ DEILD ´ˎ˗.*

Dream Exit Initiated Lucid dream

Steps…

Before bed set the intention that when you wake up you will immediately remember to perform DEILD

Set a touchless alarm to wake you up anywhere from 3-6 hours after falling asleep. I like this one! Maybe put it in a playlist with a lucid dreaming subliminal or theta waves set to play after the alarm goes off to boost your chances of becoming Lucid🌙

Go to bed as normal. As I fall asleep I like to imagine myself waking up to the alarm and successfully performing DEILD. Then I imagine myself successfully entering the void from the LD and then successfully waking up in my wr. I loop this sequence until I fall asleep. I do this to help me remember to do the technique the second I wake up, but it is not at all necessary.

Immediately upon waking and hearing the alarm, I try to remember to stay still and not open my eyes. Minimal movement is fine, but we’re trying to convince our body that we’re still asleep! The alarm will shut off on its own.

Wait for what feels like 10 seconds without actually counting (Again, you don’t want to activate your Brain and wake yourself up too much )

After it feels like 10 seconds have gone by, do a reality check like the nose pinch test EVEN IF YOU FEEL WIDE AWAKE and don’t think you could possibly already be back asleep in only 10 seconds. Most of the time you’ll already be in what is called a false awakening-when you think you’re awake in bed but you’re actually dreaming

If you were able to breathe through your closed nose you are now in a lucid dream starting out in your room. You can proceed to shift to your dr in any way you like-some of my go to’s are:

-creating a portal

-entering the void and shifting from there

-entering the astral realm and shifting from there

-waking myself up from the dream but intending to wake up in my dr not my cr

Editors note:

If when you do the nose pinch test, you are still awake, repeat step 6 up to 2 more times. If by this point, you still have not entered a lucid dream, it is best to go back to bed and try again the next time you wake up. This method is very effective but fragile, as it is best performed in that very small hypnopompic window right when you are teetering on the edge of awake and asleep.

Why this method works…

When you wake up from sleep and don’t move or open your eyes, it tricks your body into thinking that you’re still asleep and it puts you back in a dream, even though your mind is actually awake! This is why a touchless alarm is helpful, or you can use natural awakenings.

Troubleshooting the method…

The hardest part about this method is remembering to stay still as soon as you wake up.

You can set the intention to remember to do so before bed

You can also use prospective memory training during the day (every time you look in a mirror/ drink something/ plug in your phone/ enter a different room etc you can affirm “the next time I wake up I will immediately remember to perform DEILD” )

And if you move by mistake or have to use an alarm that needs manually turned off, all is not necessarily lost. it’s still worth trying anyway as long as you think you’ll be able to fall back asleep! Just wait 30 seconds instead of 10 before doing a reality check and consider using an anchor to help keep you focused and awake (could be focusing on the sound of the subliminal if you made a playlist, or the sound of a fan etc)

TLDR OF THE TECHNIQUE:

Wake up either naturally or to a touch-less alarm. If you must use a manual alarm, keep movement minimal as to not activate your brain too much.

Lie still with your eyes closed and keep a blank mind for 10-30 seconds

Do a reality check to see if you are lucid dreaming

Shift from the lucid dream

Videos explaining the technique….

“Use this simple technique for more lucid dreams. Please.” -Tiger123

“Lucid dreaming techniques shouldn’t be this easy!” - Daniel Love

“Dream exit induced lucid dreams-DEILD tutorial”- Tipharot

[lxvebun]

Highschool au brainrot with sukuna. Please hear me out-

╰┈ Not completely proofread. Sukuna x gender neutral reader<3 fluff! Let me know if you guys prefer small or big text for brainrots like this♡

꒰ა High school jock Sukuna! who had been failing his tests and was now facing the very real threat of being benched if he didn’t bring his grades up. His usual cocky grin faltering slightly as he carried himself around school with a nervous scowl.

The name Ryomen Sukuna stared back at you from the slip of paper the teacher handed to you, their eyes filled with a sense of pity, knowing Sukuna was not the easiest to get along with. The note simply read: “Please, tutor him for the upcoming tests.”

High school jock Sukuna! who was absolutely terrifying to approach. He towered over most, his sheer size enough to make anyone think twice before stepping into his space. With a permanent furrow in his eyebrows, making it look like he was always on the edge of starting a fight, and a sharp voice with an even sharper tongue. Intimidating already, he became even more so around his team—loud, confident, untouchable. Not wanting to deal with that many eyes on you, you decided to wait until after practice, when the hallways had fallen silent, and you wouldn't have the weight of other people’s eyes on you… just his.

High school jock Sukuna! who had lit up in a way you hadn’t been expecting when you explained that your teachers had assigned him to you for tutoring. The edge of confusion in his eyes cleared almost instantly, replaced by something more like relief. He was quick to exchange numbers with you, even quicker to ask if you had time that Friday after practice.

High school jock Sukuna! with whom you surprisingly found yourself in the midst of a blossoming friendship. Yeah, he was rough around the edges, with his jagged personality, sharp tongue, and lack of patience for anything he didn’t find interesting. But when it was just the two of you, tucked into a corner of the library, it was almost like he softened a little. He listened carefully when you explained things to him, followed your instructions on homework, albeit begrudgingly, doodled on the corner of your notebooks, overhauled his backpack to share his snacks, and what you thought would be a nerve-wracking few hours every week turned into something you actually looked forward to.

High school jock Sukuna! who’s crushing so incredibly hard on you, but you’re completely oblivious to it. Perceiving it more as him just being friendly. </3

And really, it’s so painfully obvious he likes you—he doesn’t even bother hiding the way he stares when you’re explaining something, and there’s a certain warmth in his gaze that makes your heart flutter, but you brush it off. </3

(Really, it's a miracle his pupils haven’t turned into little heart shapes yet.)

He’s just glad he’s keeping his grades up with your help so he can continue to play in his games. You convince yourself as he flashes a fanged smile and shoots you a wink as you pass each other in the hallways.

Sukuna just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of having another tutor assigned to him. He doesn’t want to go through the exhausting process of explaining what he finds difficult in his subjects over and over again to a stranger. Your mind rationalizes as he offers to carry your bag, not giving you any time to respond before he slung the heavy thing over his shoulder with a casual grin. His arm now wrapped around your shoulder. The warmth of his touch lingering as you both walked to the library for your usual study session

It’s just Sukuna trying his best to be friendly and convince you to stay and tutor him. That’s all it is. You're sure! But then… that doesn’t explain why his team jersey, with the bold, bright lettering spelling out his name, is currently neatly folded up in your locker, adorned with a messy little note in familiar handwriting that reads:

“Wear this for me at the game?” ♡

Your fingers hover over the fabric, the weight of it suddenly feeling a lot heavier than it should...໒꒱ ⠀

[fortunemars]

...okay so maybe I was wrong... And there is a good way to make a Zane redemption story without sacrificing too much depth in other characters... I applaud you bc this is genuinely huge brain thinking...

@panicataphmausinsanity okay so Zane HC's LETS GOOOOOOOO

Before we start trigger warning for like, child abuse and torture and shit. Seriously this gets dark. Zane redemption must come at a price >:D

So. Something interesting to me in regards to Zane is how in MCD, He's like, this evil, terrible human being, but in Mystreet, he's like, a semi functional human being who can be a NOT bad person and NOT do bad things. And so I got to thinking.

I don't think Zane was born a bad person.

Personally, I kind of hate the way Jess wrote Zane. Like, yes, evil for the sake of evil is great and all, but like. In season one and two, Zane was this overarching antagonist who was always one step ahead of the cast and plotting and having a good time being a paice of shit.

And then season 3 comes around and now he's a shadow knight, on the run, has PTSD...

Look, I'm not knocking the guy for having PTSD. I'm just saying that the way it's portrayed kind of makes him seem like a whimpery coward. AGAIN, NOT KNOCKING PTSD!!

I think the position that Zane found himself in season 3 was a PERFECT set up for a redemption arc and it makes me SO MAD that it didn't happen.

So I guess I have to do it myself apparently -_-

I've been thinking a lot about Zane. I don't want him to stop being evil. Not right away. So we keep what happened in the first two seasons the same. He's a cackling maniac that has killed a shit ton of people and is on his father's payroll.

And then he dies.

(skill issue lol)

Anyway, Zane is dead. But he's also Zane, so of course he weasels his way out of being dead. And then he gets tortured and is subjected to the same suffering he condemned so many others to yada yada yada PTSD bleh.

Everything seems to be the same so far.

But then he breaks out if the nether. Still, we're on track, right?

He gets captured, he gets expedited to Phoenix Drop, he gets interrogated, it's all the same.

But here we find a canon divergence. Instead of being absolute dumbasses, they don't bring him into the nether. Let's scrap that plot point entirely.

Instead, we're going to let Zane bake in prison for a while!

Here are the main issues that make Zane irredeemable.

1. He's killed like, a shit ton of people, for funsies ig

2. He killed Vylad.

3. He destroyed Aaron's village.

Let's keep those things in mind.

So he's in prison. While in prison, Garroth starts to visit him (along with Travis but shhhh we'll get to him another day) and just. You know. Be angry.

Garroth has seen Zane as a spoiled brat his entire life. He's always been their father's favorite. He's always had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He's always been willing to do whatever it takes for power. He's greedy. He's psychotic. Garroth hates him.

But Zane is Garroth's brother. And Garroth is the type of golden retriever, gold hearted, kind type of character to still love his brother even if he hates him.

That doesn't mean he goes in and is like, nice to him though. Nope. Garroth goes to visit him and nine times out of ten it devolves into a screaming match where Zane antagonizes him the entire time and Garroth yells at him for being a shitty human being.

And then one day Phoenix Drop is attacked and Zane escapes.

They track him down eventually. When they find him, they strike a deal with him. Due to Irene related shenanigans they need his expertise as a scholar of Irene to figure out some more stuff for Aphmau. In exchange, they'll protect him from the Shadow Lord (who he pissed off by stealing one of his soul fragments lol Zane behavior).

Eventually they're able to establish a rapore with Zane. Garroth still gets a migraine whenever they have a conversation. Vylad still refuses to speak to him (oh btw he's visiting from his nether revolution vacation just so u know) and Aphmau still wants to tear out his guts for killing the love of her life or whatever, but he becomes manageable. They can like, stand him. A little bit. Slightly.

And then Zianna gets kidnapped or whatever. So they go rescue her. But when they get back to Phoenix Drop they forget to mention the fact that Zane is like. There and in the wild and not currently killing entire villages worth of people.

So Zianna rolls up to Phoenix Drop and gets jumpscared by her youngest son and also, notably, Zane is NOT happy to see her. He shuts the front door in her face. It's hilarious even though Garroth doesn't think of it that way.

So, now we have our key players all in one place. Garroth, Vylad, Zane, and Zianna.

Let's say they have to all go find an artifact toghether or something and they need Zianna there because it's related to something she knows and they need Zane there because of Irene lore reasons. they go on this mission. One day, they sit and set up for the night, set up bedrolls, whatever. They're lounging around the fire and talking when Vylad eventually mentions his time as a shadow knight in the nether and something about torture.

Zane blinks, and, having not been included in the conversation initially, buts it to say,

"Oh, please. Don't tell me getting tortured by those amatures was DISTRESSING for you. I would have thought father's methods would have given you thicker skin."

The others bristle and start scolding him, of course, because Zane is like, the reason Vylad became a shadow knight in the first place. But Vylad himself, who is very observant and hard to antagonize, latches into something Zane said.

"Methods? What methods?" He says. He says it sharply, too.

Of course, Zane doesn't pick up on this. He just rolls his eyes.

"Don't tell me you forgot. Father had a whole floor dedicated to torture and loved collecting new methods from around the region. I think he even had a historian employed who would research for him..."

"What?" Garroth says, stunned out of his anger.

Zianna has gone silent. So has everyone else, and now they're watching with baited breaths.

"So what? What would that have to do with me?"

And for the first time that they've ever seen, Zane looks... Puzzled.

"What, did he go easy on you? Didn't you talk back to him all the time? Once, after just asking him a question, he had two of my nails pulled. Shadow Knight torture was child's play in comparison," he shrugs, then takes a bite out of his stale price of bread.

There's silence.

Zane looks back at all of them, confused and now kind of pissed off. He looks like he usually does when he feels like he's about to be scolded for saying something crass. Except, that's not what happens. Instead, Vylad looks him in the eye for the first time since Zane killed him, and with the most emotion they've ever heard from him, says,

"What?"

Zane hums.

"Come on. Don't play dumb. He hated you. Im sure he must have sent you to the "torture basement" at least once. You got on his nerves constantly,"

Garroth makes an aborted movement, like he's going to stand up and rush him, but Vylad stops him with a flick of his hand. And then Vylad starts doing what he does best. Interrogating him.

So remember that list, right? Let's reframe a few things.

Zane was not the favorite child. Garroth was.

Garte was a paice of shit. Garte hated Vylad. But he also hates Zane. Why wouldn't he? Vylad was his wife's affair child, sure, but Zane, Zane was Zianna's spitting image.

When Zane was little, he used to take snails and out them in the grass after it rained. He uses to clamor for his mother's pastries just like his brothers. He was a normal child, and he was NOT born a psychopath.

But Garte had a thought, one day.

Wouldn't it be funny... If he made his wife think he WAS one?

Wouldn't it be funny to punish her that way? Wouldn't it be funny to turn Zane into a terrible person, and have her think it was for no reason? Make her think that she birthed a psychopath? How much would it hurt her? How much would she weep?

Garte used to punish Zane for Vylad's joy. One of Vylad's laughs would equal one slap to the face. One side remark in defence of their mother would equal one hour locked in his father's study closet in his office.

Garte turns Zane against himself brothers. And the best part in his mind?

He makes Zane believe that they know about all of it.

He tells Zane that his mother knows about it. That his brothers don't care that he's beaten. That Vylad does things so he gets punished on purpose.

Zane grows up thinking that his brothers probably go through this too. He grows up thinking that his mother just doesn't love him. And so he doesn't say a thing.

Garte starts having him tortured instead of superficially physically abused? He says nothing.

Garte makes him become a priest of Okasis even though the consequence of failing the academy is death? He says nothing.

Garte would encourage Zane to blugeon animals to death and bring them to Zianna and laugh at her horrified face from afar. Garte encourages Zane to say psychotic things while they're eating dinner, and watches as his family becomes more and more convinced Zane is a monster.

Until Zane is one.

But this reframes a few things.

The people Zane killed? It was under orders. He eventually became his father's right hand man. Most of his overarching goals have been in service of his father.

For Aaron's village, we'll stick a pin in that one, but long story short, Aaron's village had been planning a coup that night under his wife's orders. Zane had them killed under his father's orders so they could eliminate them as political neighbors. He let Aaron live out of pity.

And Vylad.

Basically, remember when I said that Garte used to punish Zane according to Vylad's actions?

One day, Vylad gets into an explosive argument with Garte defending Zianna. And Garte, again, without the other's knowing, has Zane tortured. Except this time it's for a WEEK STRAIGHT.

So when Zane gets out. He's. Very unstable.

And then he comes across Vylad in a semi secluded area.

And Vylad is acting like he did nothing, and all he's ever done is make Zane suffer, and Zane hates him hates him HATES HIM--

And so he snaps. And he kills him.

Keep in mind, though, Zane thinks this is all normal. He doesn't realize that killing his own brother has traumatized him. He doesn't realize that he's a victim of abuse. He doesn't realize that what his dad did is not okay because he THINKS HIS FAMILY KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED, and if they didn't contradict his abuse, then this must be normal. He thinks that Vylad has probably been tortured too. He thinks Garroth is their father's favorite because in his mind he's determined that Garroth not receiving any attention from their father is a GOOD thing because ATTENTION EQUALS TORTURE to him.

And this reframes a few things. His constant bid for power? It's not greed, it's DESPERATION. Power makes him feel safe. Hurting others makes him feel powerful because that's how his father had power over him.

His highly volatile and violent personality? It's l he's ever known. Do you have ANY idea what torture could do to a child? He has severe PTSD. Like, severe and repressed and his outburst are more common when he's uncomfortable or anxious or experiencing any negative emotion, which is often.

Garte took Zane's empathy from him. Turned him against his family. Made him into a monster. With these types of characters, I imagine it would probably be very difficult for them to redevelop their emotions and empathy because if they do that, they would have to face their whole mountain of trauma and the guilt of all the lives they've ruined.

I think eventually, after a lot of work, Zane does eventually regain his empathy. It probably finally sinks in during a small gathering. His mother makes her famous cake. Zane has long gotten used to being excluded during these sorts of things, but then...

His mother slides a plate of cake right in front of him.

Strawberry.

His favorite.

And she smiles at him.

This is probably after they found out about Garte being a peice of shit. Maybe a few months.

All Zane has ever wanted is to be loved. Maybe he didn't know it, but when he takes a bite of his mother's strawberry cake for the first time in decades and the nostalgic taste registers in his brain, something snaps.

And he becomes human again.

And he realizes:

Oh.

I'm a person.

I'm a murderer.

I'm a monster.

LMAO WAS THIS COHERENT SORRY PANIC I TRIED MY BEST I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE OSIBWIBDIBSIBU

[ddejavvu]

Omg can u do a best friend James x reader where she’s short and james just picks her up by the waist to just maneuver around her and it’s the funniest thing how reader tries acting like she doesn’t like it YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOOOOOOD

cw for short!reader, this isn't really size inclusive so if you're tall and it's gonna irk you i wouldn't read it </3

--

In a crowded hallway full of people, James zeroes you out as the easiest to move. He does so by taking you by the waist, his hands curling around your hips and dipping slightly beneath them so that he can hoist you off of the ground.

"-so I got it back and he left corrections on it," You speak animatedly to Remus, waving your hands as you tell him the story of the grave injustices committed against you in DADA, "But his corrections were exactly my answers! I just paraphrased the textbook lines 'cause I didn't want him to think that I was cheating, but apparently the old bugger can't figure out the concept of a synonym! So now I've got to go and get my exam reviewed again, and-! Hey!"

You yelp as James latches onto you, scrambling to find purchase in his broad shoulders when he lifts you into the air. He hoists you up and around another person, swiveling at the waist to deposit you on the other side of him, subsequently clearing a path for him to use on his way to the grounds for quidditch practice.

"Not funny, James," You glare at him, but his grin is easy and free as he saunters away from you, backwards down the corridor.

"M'late for practice," He calls, his shoulders bumping into people periodically as he uses them to maneuver through the rest of the hallway, "You're lucky i just moved you, darling. Could've used you as a stepping stone!"

[nlovesbjh]

꒰ 지젤 ꒱ ── pink haired girl 𖥔 synopsis. . . you just debuted and obviously dating scandal wasn't in your bingo card, but your senior was so pretty, it was hard to resist not to stare at her all the time ꒰꧞ ˃ 𛱊 ˂ ꒱ྀི

지젤 ／ 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝 reader ៸៸ idol au fluff ⟡ ⌢ . kissing petnames ( baby, love ) now is playing! . . confessions by loossemble

𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝒩. omg so happy im finally posting something on this account because i couldn't wait any longer lol. this work is not proofread, i wrote this super quickly bc i love aeri uchinaga <3

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who you met at music bank after your pre-recording performance. you were the one who needed to film a tiktok challenge with her, so you brought a signed album of your group and learned whiplash choreography before meeting her.

honestly, you couldn't stop staring. giselle just looked incredibly beautiful, her makeup was flawless, her outfit was perfect and she looked hot to say at least. maybe your cheeks were blushing too much and your face were getting too hot or she was just so beautiful and her personality made you feel a little dizzy.

"oh my god Im so, so, so sorry.." you apologized again after you made a mistake in whiplash choreo. one of the easiest dance in your life and you were doing it wrong for the fourth time, what was your problem? obviously you were too distracted and nervous around giselle wich made her giggle.

"it's okay! we can do it again, yeah?" she tried to calm you down and smiled. her smile was so soft and sweet you almost melted.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who wanted to make you feel less awkward around her and asked if she can buy you a drink after you finished filming.

"what?!" you're eyes widened in surprise, you just couldn't believe that your aespa bias wants to buy you a drink. you were so excited to finally see her up close after years of fangirling, but you never would've guessed she would like to get closer? you blinked a few times and cleaned your throat before answer. "yes, I'd like that!"

"okay," giselle simply replied and led you towards the cafeteria to buy some drinks. she thought you were cute, blushing all the time and making mistakes in steps and she definitely knew it was because of her. she couldn't let such an adorable girl like you go away without her knowing you better, right?

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who asked for your number before you could disappear in your group's green room. you happily accepted her offer, taking her phone and accidentally touching her fingers with yours. the contact got you blushing more and you almost looked like tomato now, but you did gave her your number after all. what a win.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who will always text you something like "you fid a great job" or "you looked so pretty today" after she saw your group performance or show.

you would immediately blush, smiling at your phone as soon as the shoot was over and your members would tease you.

"so down bad that's insane.."

"y/n get up!!"

"can you just shut up! why can't I like a cute girl?" you whine, annoyed at their behavior as you sat down on the couch to reply to giselle's text.

"so you like her?"

"I didn't say that!" your head comes up as soon as you've heard your group mate's words which you have definitely said a few seconds ago without even realizing it.

"mhm, you obviously do."

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who can't stop talking about you and your performances and her members are tired of it. she notices everything, the way your hair looks on stage and how good you look with that hair color, the way you smirked after successfully finishing your part and her favorite moments are where you're the ending fairy.

that was the moment when giselle knew she liked you and not because you're great artist, but because you were sweet, adorable and she just couldn't stop thinking about you. she never felt like that about anyone else before, all her attention was at you, now she was the one fangirling.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who's fancams from awards started getting viral in kpop community because she was smiling so hard seeing you perform, singing along to your parts and was basically simpling over you.

"aeri unnie is trending on twitter again?" ningning asked out of sudden, looking up from her phone.

"what? do not tell it's something bad.." karina already started freaking out if it's about hate or a dating scandal. "why?"

"because she's looking at y/n with heart eyes," ningning laughed at giselle's surprised reaction while karina sighed with relief.

"I do not look at her like that, what is your problem! they're definitely making it up," giselle was trying to defend herself, but it sounded so bad her members couldn't help but laugh.

"why are you trying to make us believe that you don't like her if we already do know you're in love?" minjeong rolled her eyes.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who is making you nervous all the time when you're together even though you've been friends for a few months already and you were hanging out pretty much every weekend.

"are you blushing?" giselle asked, pocking at your cheek playfully which made you both giggle.

"yeah.." you reply shyly, continuing drinking your milkshake to get over this awkward situation.

"cute." she whispered and you almost choked on your drink out of surprise.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who is always making sure you're eating well and resting even when you don't have schedule or comeback coming up just because she is worried and she cares about you a lot.

"have you eaten yet? we can go grab some lunch together." giselle said, placing her hand on your shoulder to get your full attention.

"mm? yeah, alright…" you simply answered, not looking up at her and continuing watching the choreography you need to learn until the month ends.

"hey, are you okay?" she asked. giselle was truly worried about you, she already told you about that and tried to help you with anything you might need, but you were so into that comeback preparation, she just couldn't do anything. "you need to eat, baby.."

"huh?" your eyes flushed open as you finally looked up at giselle, realizing how close she was sitting to you and the warmth of her hand on your shoulder was definitely doing something to you. you've never heard her using nicknames for you except one's that were versions of your name, but 'baby' was something new. and you liked it. a lot.

"sorry, I—"

"no, no it's okay! totally fine!" you tried to sound not as excited as you felt, but oh you failed. "I liked it.." you whispered.

"what?"

"nothing, let's go eat…" you quickly changed the theme and stood up from your seat, leaving giselle no time to think about the fact that you liked being called 'baby' by her let alone give her a chance to discuss it with you.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who loves watching your fancams and fan made videos just for fun because you always make her smile and laugh like no one else.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who was the one confessing her feelings to you as soon as she get out of the red carpet at the award.

"there you are! you look so pretty.." giselle almost lost her mind when she saw you in that outfit. the color suits you perfectly, makeup makes you look even more gorgeous and elegant, she just couldn't help herself when those words came out of her mouth. "I like you."

"what?" you couldn't believe what you just heard. not only your friend that you had a crush on just confessed to you, but she looked incredibly good it was so hard to think about something but her in that black dress in that exact moment. fuck how can you be so stupid and act like that when she's right there saying she likes you. "are you serious?"

"dead serious." she nodded and you came closer to press a soft kiss on her cheek, pulling off quickly just to see a red lipstick mark on her skin and smile.

"I gotta go, but I'll text you later, okay?"

"okay." giselle smiled back at you.

"and I like you too."

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who would spend all her free time at your doorm for two reasons: one. she's tired of her members. two. she missed you a lot.

"let's watch something!" you suggested, trying to escape giselle's grip on your waist although you didn't actually want her to let go off you. you loved when she acted clingy, it's sweet.

"how about this new kdrama that came out.. what was the name?" giselle pouted slightly while trying to remember the name of the show and she looked so cute that you already didn't care what you'd watch. your hands wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer to you. you breathed deeply, smelling her hair and smiling at the strawberry scent. her pink hair smelled like strawberries…

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who can't let her members steal you from her because they want to get to know you better but she knows they'll like you so much and would try to spend more time with you and become friends.

"absolutely not, love. can't let ningning befriend you, she'll definitely gonna hang out with you all the time and then with us two together and then we won't have time for each other and—"

you rolled your eyes at giselle and pulled her closer to you, kissing her to finally make her stop rambling about nonsense. her lips felt so soft against yours. not just her hair, but she even tasted like strawberries. when you pulled out to breathe, looking at her with the most adoring eyes possible, you smiled.

"don't be silly, she won't replace you. nobody ever will."

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who is just the most supportive girlfriend ever. in all honesty, she is always there to make you feel better, to make you feel loved and say how much you've done and that she is proud of you.

obviously you can't leave her alone at those moments too, you both know how much it means for each other that you'll share your feelings, love and support. you will always be there for her and she will always becthere for you no matter what.

[rafey-baby]

hidden 4

c/w: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, outlaw!rafe being his usual self towards pogue!reader, mentions of murder & violence, a surprise in the grocery store, smut: dub-con (!), fingering, p-in-v, unprotected sex, size kink, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.7k

it’s here! (one more part left!!) hope u enjoy xx

part 1 part 2 part 3 & part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“A picture provided by a passer-by has led us to believe that Rafe Cameron, the suspect for the murder of a police officer is still on the island and has possibly been in contact with the witness who now wants to withdraw his statement, not wanting to testify in court due to personal reasons. However, the investigation is still ongoing and Cameron remains the main suspect, which means that if you have any information about his whereabouts, please do not hesitate—” 

Rafe twists the car radio off with a scoff.  

“The fuck they're gonna do with a blurry photo? Unless they find another witness or some actual proof, they don’t have shit on me,” he mutters more to himself than her as he yanks open the door and lets it slam closed; leaving her to scramble after his exasperated steps through the grocery store parking lot.  

She doesn’t know how Rafe managed to discover the name of the witness or why a few days ago she sat in his truck parked outside the poor guy’s home keeping watch, but at this point she’s decided that the universe simply must have something against her peace of mind.  

When she asked about his visit, he simply shrugged it off with a ’Don’t worry about it, s’all good. Just had a little talk with him’ which honestly made unease settle into the bottom of her stomach because it was most definitely not the entire truth.  

For the following days, she tried her very best to avoid his intimidating presence as to not give him a reason to get mad at her while he made several phone calls and took care of business. However, acting as if he wasn’t there wasn’t the easiest task since her house, despite the cozy atmosphere, isn’t very grand.  

Whenever she'd try to find sleep in her soft sheets, his heavy presence in the next room would send a shiver up her spine and erase any prospects of getting rest. And when she’d try to cook dinner, he’d be looming way too close for comfort and make her accidentally drop a pan on her kitchen floor. Therefore, she's not exactly feeling her best. 

As they step through the sliding doors, Rafe is hiding under black sunglasses and an old baseball cap he borrowed (stole) from her; trying to keep a low profile and appear as ordinary as any casual customer shopping for essentials since he’s practically emptied her fridge at this point. 

“Do you want red or green grapes?” She inquires as she peers down at the fruit. 

“Don't really give a shit. Just get both,” he grumbles out, seemingly all too aware of his surroundings; antsy to just get out of the store already. 

“That’s not very helpful,” she complains quietly as she decides on the green ones and pushes the shopping cart forward with Rafe close behind.  

And she’s all too preoccupied by picking out what she wants for breakfast when all of a sudden, he grabs her face in his big palms and presses his lips against hers.  

She lets out a surprised noise that gets swallowed up by him as he slots their mouths together while her entire body tenses up in response to him pushing her against the shelves that display different types of bagels. 

She’s momentarily disconcerted, doesn’t remember the last time she’s been kissed like this; all rough and inconsiderate. And maybe that’s why she’s beginning to feel light-headed; every coherent thought wiped away because him kissing her makes absolutely no sense. Therefore, she doesn’t even realize she’s reciprocating the kiss before her distracted mind stirs awake and soon enough, she’s pulling away with creased brows. 

“Rafe, what the—”  

However, she’s interrupted by the hollow of his hand plastering over her mouth.  

“Shut up,” he hisses lowly, eyes alarmed and shoulders tense.  

She’s about to protest before he nods towards a couple of officers a few feet away from them; apparently having just passed them. They’re strolling through the aisle leisurely, chatting freely and not paying them any mind because why would they do anything except roll their eyes at a lovey-dovey couple making out next to the organic whole wheat toast?  

Oh.  

She can’t believe she didn’t notice them; figuring that if she was the one running from the cops, she wouldn’t last a day. Before her brain has the chance to catch up and command her to scream for help though, she feels the barrel of his gun poking at her chest, forcing the desperate pleads to die out on her tongue.  

She stares into threatening larimar and blinks; too frightened to even inhale too loud. Neither of them move until the policemen have rounded the corner and leaving them the only people standing in the bread aisle.  

And he doesn’t think too much of the kiss, simply a means for him to stay under the radar but unfortunately her head turns into a blank piece of paper, not able to say a word until they’re walking the grass-covered steps to her threshold.  

“Why would you do that?” She’s fuming as he locks the front door. 

“Was just tryin’ not to blow my cover, calm down,” he grumbles out and sets down the grocery bags.  

“By kissing me?” She snaps in exasperation.  

“Yeah, well there wasn’t exactly time to think about anything else,” he seems so nonchalant about all this, as if he doesn’t care one bit. She figures he doesn’t because it seems that for him it’s the most tedious thing in the world to consider other people’s feelings for one second.  

Maybe she didn’t want him to kiss her, of all things. Didn’t want him to make the muddy thoughts brewing beneath the surface of her sanity any louder than they already were. Because despite how hard she’s trying to convince herself that him shoving her around and walking around her house as if he owns it doesn’t affect her, it wouldn’t change the fact that something about his dominating presence is slowly but surely making her grow curious.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She drops her keys to the ceramic bowl in her hallway, walking towards the living room; wanting to put as much distance between them as possible in order to have some space to think.  

“I mean, it’s not like you seemed to mind too much, you did kiss me back,” he points out as heavy footsteps follow her.  

“I was just…in shock, okay?” She turns around and her voice is loud, tone frustrated. 

“Don’t fucking raise your voice at me,” he warns her, low and gravelly; making her shiver.  

“And if you were just in shock, then why are you blushing right now, hm?” He takes a step closer to inspect her, too close. 

“I’m— I’m not blushing,” she tries to deny. However, the cherry tint heating the apples of her cheeks gives her away.  

“You’re a shit liar, you know that?” He chuckles, amused. “Bet you liked me kissing you, hm? Just being too much of a stubborn Pogue to admit that.”  

Her dumbfounded eyes stare at him in silence because she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that.  

“Usually not into whiny pups but should just fuck some sense into you so you’d wipe that stupid pout off your face, yeah?” He rasps out, looking at her with something devilish glimmering in the aquamarine of his eyes.  

“You’re a fucking psycho!” The accusation escapes past her lips before she has the chance to think about it.  

And at that, he harshly grabs her jaw between rough fingertips; mushing her cheeks together and making her teeth bite into the gummy walls of her mouth.  

“What did you just call me?”  

She realizes her mistake too late.  

“Didn’t— didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” her frightened eyes are wide.  

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He dryly laughs in her face, finding entertainment in her torment.  

“Yes, I don’t know why I—”  

“You gon’ make it up to me?” He asks as he feigns contemplation.  

“What?” 

“Cause I think this fucking psycho ordering you around like a puppy gets you wet, huh? You don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at me?” He lets go of her jaw, tall frame towering over her. 

“I don’t…what are you—” she’s unable to move, trepidation creeping up her spine along with an odd form of intrigue that makes her respiration grow arduous because he’s not exactly wrong.  

“Should we check?” He raises his brows. 

“What— what are you doing?” She tries to take a hesitant step back, albeit uselessly; her back thumping against the wall when he corners her into it. 

“That’s not a no,” he tilts his head at her, mocking her. And then he’s pushing his hand into her pants, past the waistband of her panties and feeling her out; fingertips finding the stickiness already present.   

She gasps, surprised by the sudden pressure against her attention-starved cunt.  

“Huh, look at that. Should’ve known you were a horny fucking girl when I first saw those stupid fake scared eyes, talking ’bout some ’Rafe I’m sorry please don’t hurt me I’ll do anything’ shit,” he raises his pitch to an overly extreme girlish squeak, meant to patronize her, yet somehow, it’s turning her on even more.  

“Bet you’d like that though, if I’d hurt you? Rough you up a little, hm?” His heady breaths tickling her lips is kindling a blaze deep in her tummy; arousing something novel, strange, unfamiliar. 

“Rafe…” she manages out since her head is spinning.  

“That’s right. Say my fucking name,” he’s chuckling as a digit slips down to prod at her opening and slowly pushing in; causing a faint whimper to leave the gaps of her teeth. 

“So fucking tight. Been a while, huh? Not gon’ lie been a while for me too. With all this shit with the cops haven’t exactly had the time to get my cock wet, you know? At this point s’getting a bit frustrating, if I’m being honest,” he rumbles mindlessly, too lost in examining her reactions to his fingers playing with her cunt to care about what he’s saying.  

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t think she’s physically able to form any kind of words at the moment, let alone coherent sentences. His thumb rubbing lazy circles against her swollen clit leaves her dazed and she knows this is wrong, it’s so wrong yet she can’t deny how good it feels to have him touch her like this.  

“Now that I’m thinking about it, haven’t tried Pogue pussy before, wanna help with that?” His low drawl is nearly hypnotizing; her morals turning more and more hazy by the second and evaporating into the tension-filled air surrounding them.  

“Rafe…I don’t—” 

“You’re soaked. When’s the last time you got fucked good?” He interrupts her.  

“I don’t...remember,” she mumbles out.  

“Don’t remember? Shit, Puppy,” there’s a condescending lilt to his pity and she whines when he drags his finger out and nudges it back in again.  

“The guy I was with wasn’t, um, the best so…didn’t really wanna do it again and stuff,” she timidly admits.  

“You’re letting a guy who can’t make you come between your legs? Such a shame. But not really a surprise those Pogue boys don’t know how to fuck. I mean, no wonder you’re so wound up,” the edges of his mouth curl.  

“I’ll take care of it though, make you feel so good, yeah?” His breathy promises try to coax her to give in. 

“Rafe, I don’t know…”  

“Listen, I’m just saying, probably gon’ be here for some time until everything settles and gotta kill the time somehow, no?”  

“But this is wrong, you— you threatened to kill me,” she reminds him and herself with the remnants of her determination.  

“Yeah, yeah, that wasn’t very…nice, but don’t be acting like you don’t want this. All I’m saying here is, you’re the one dripping down my hand right now and really, I’d be doing you a favor,” his crooked logic goes unnoticed by her as she slowly blinks up at him. 

“We really shouldn’t—” she’s interrupted by another digit squeezing into her achy cunt, making her moan out at the sudden stretch. 

“Don’t worry your little head over what we should and shouldn’t do, alright? If you’re worried what your pathetic Pogue friends might think, I don’t kiss and tell. Can be our little secret, yeah?” He grins down at her. 

“Rafe, I don’t think we should…” she tries again. 

“Shh. What did I just tell you, hm?” He hushes her with the expanse of his palm pressing against her clit making her suppress another whimper.  

“Promise to go slow?” She asks without a clue as to why she’s not trying to prevent this.  

What’s wrong with her? She tries to convince herself that she’s only allowing for this to happen because maybe then she’ll finally get him out of her system. 

“Of course,” his conformation doesn’t sound all too veracious when something hungry glints in his eyes.  

“You gon’ let a Kook show you what you’re missing, hm?” He rumbles before he’s pushing her onto the couch and following soon after; mouth sloppy as it molds over her own and tongue warm when it intrudes her mouth. Quick fingers toy with his belt until he’s tugging the zipper of his pants down and making her eyes flicker down when he takes himself out. 

“You’re so big,” her rounded eyes ogle at his cock, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip when she notices how it twitches in his hand in response to her words.  

“Shit, you think it’ll fit?” He wonders out loud, grabbing her hips and dragging her closer with strong arms. 

“I don’t know…” she trails off when he pulls down her shorts by the belt loops before the drippy tip is nudging at her entrance. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he murmurs and then he’s tucking himself right into her weepy cunt.  

She cries out at the overwhelming stretch as she tries to accommodate to his size; thankful he’s not pushing all the way in yet because she already feels so full she’s not sure how she’s supposed to take any more of him.  

“Fuck, you really are a tight little thing, huh?” He grunts out.  

“Relax, yeah?” He coaxes before his mouth meets her neck; pasting wet kisses and letting the flat of his tongue lave over the sensitive skin there.  

He moves lower as his fingers pluck at the straps of her flimsy top before letting her tits out and taking a puffy nipple between his lips. They moan in tandem when his left hand reaches for the other, trying to loosen her up by pinching it between a thumb and an index finger. 

“Rafe…” 

“What? You want more? I’ll give you more, alright?” There’s almost a primal urge in the way he pushes in deeper; forcing a loud noise to tumble from the back of her throat when he begins to fill her up to the hilt. 

“There you go, taking it like a good fucking puppy, yeah?” He groans against her neck when her nails sink into his back muscles, scratching downwards and surely leaving marks.  

Then he’s flipping her over onto her stomach with one swift movement, pushing all the way in once more; fitting snugly inside as her walls flutter around him. 

She cries out at the new angle his cock is now poking at her insides as he shoves her face into the couch cushions with each jostle of his hips against her. And he’s not gentle, she’s not even sure he knows what the word means as he keeps stuffing her full over and over again; making her see stars when she can almost feel her orgasm on the tips of her fingers.  

“Such a filthy slut, aren’t ya? Letting a complete stranger fuck you like this in your own house?” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he keeps nudging at the spongy spot inside her; her loud moans echoing around the room and she feels so good she thinks she’s gonna pass out. 

“Should stay here for longer, yeah? Just fuck this tight little cunt whenever I get bored, hm?” He pants, mouthing at her neck as his thrusts begin to grow lazy. 

And she has half the mind to agree. 

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

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