#defining your truth

[cyber-soul-smartz]

Empowered Journey: Embracing Self-Advocating Self-Expression and Reclaiming Your Narrative

New Article! Discover self-advocacy's power and how reclaiming your narrative fuels growth. Learn mindful techniques and start your transformation today! Read now and share. #selfadvocacy #mindfulness #reclaimyournarrative #personalgrowth

Embrace the power of self-advocacy and introspection. Reclaim your narrative, shatter self-doubt, and let your authentic truth shine. Discover the journey of mindful self-expression and personal growth. #EmpoweredJourney#selfadvocacy #mindfulness #reclaimingyournarrative #personalgrowth #healing #empowerment In the face of adversity, a profound inner strength awaits discovery. This is the power…

[pumpkinrootbeer]

i feel like we kinda miss the whole. catalyst for fiona and lips relationship exploding.

here's your older sister, and here's the only person you've ever been able to trust. she tells you to get out again and again and again, even though you're so afraid that the moment you turn around everything is going to fall apart. getting out, and then getting the rest of them out, is your job. that's what your supposed to do.

neither of you have been able to trust your parents and all you have is each other, and she's telling you to get out. and it's either doom everyone around you by staying, or trust her and leave.

and then, right as you're finally starting to find the rhythm of a world you've beed denied access to your whole life, it's because of her, the only person you've ever been able to trust in you entire existence, because of you leaving and trusting, that your five year old brother almost dies. he's comatose. he's covered in tubes. he might never be the same again. the only person you've ever trusted has done the exact same thing your parents did. Put drugs and alcohol and letting loose above the kids their supposed to take care of.

Is it any wonder Lip stops trusting her. That Lip takes the longest to forgive her. "it wasn't her coke she didn't leave it out" she got high around a toddler and left him near the cocaine. left the cocaine where he could get it. the two other adults picked him up and danced with him with coke on the table. Lip walks in on this after spending an entire day trying to rescue their other brother. His little sister is the one who finds their baby brother.

even discounting that in response to this he has to suddenly start stealing food or else all the kids in the house will starve, or that Fiona suddenly jackrabbits into another person he has to care for instead of someone he can trust, or that he now has to care for a 4 year old, while working a job, and being a full time college student on work study, discounting all of that of course Lip looses faith in his sister. Of course he does.

[perrysoup]

As an arab who has lived in Israel, everyone's accusations that they are some kind of apartheid state? I don't understand where you get these ideas from? I think you conflate that idea with the things you Americans learned from your racist history of white and black people and your past of segregation and with the history of South Africa's past as well. I have never been othered or harassed as a Lebanese woman by my coworkers, bosses, or friends. I can read everything here becuase we have access to everything here, I cant read hebrew well, but I can read the arabic around the country. I'm not forbidden from places for being arab. I have had uncomfortable experiences in some areas, but never at the hands of a Israeli, but by men who assumed i was Israeli/ a jew and thought I couldn't understand what they would say about me/ my female family or friends with me.

I was gonna write out a different full response but frankly I don't believe you. You are asking as an anonymous person so you could very well be one of the Zionists who keeps complaining I don't have sympathy for the PTSD coming from MURDERING PEOPLE AND LAUGHING ABOUT IT! Or you may be telling the truth but the slew of go fund me scams claiming to be people that are really sets the bar high for someone being anonymous.

I have seen orthodox Jews on the streets of Israel beaten to an inch of their life for trying to stop a Palestinian from being harassed by police.

I have seen the videos about the Israeli government beat back protestors for wanting aid through.

I have seen rallies where people in Israel screamed "Death to all Muslim"

I have see a fucking girl torn to shreds and shoved on rebar like meat by the IOF so politely don't fucking tell me how YOUR experience defines the entire group currently being genocided and tortured.

Do you really expect me to think that just cause things were okay for YOU that the murders I saw with my own eyes aren't real?

Side note: Everyone in the Middle East is Arab, that's a regional cultural identity, not a religion or even a descriptor of which country they were born in. Jews in Palestine are Arab and Muslims in Israel are Arab.

"Arab identity (Arabic: الهوية العربية) is the objective or subjective state of perceiving oneself as an Arab and as relating to being Arab. Like other cultural identities, it relies on a common culture, a traditional lineage, the common land in history, shared experiences including underlying conflicts and confrontations. These commonalities are regional and in historical contexts, tribal. Arab identity is defined independently of religious identity, and pre-dates the spread of Islam and before spread of Judaism and Christianity, with historically attested Arab Muslim tribes and Arab Christian tribes and Arab Jewish tribes. Arabs are a diverse group in terms of religious affiliations and practices. Most Arabs are Muslim, with a minority adhering to other faiths, largely Christianity,[1] but also Druze and Baháʼí.[2][3]"

Edit: to add an item on this, I’ll trust South Africa on if Israel is an segregation/apartheid state over you

[shakingparadigm]

Ivan saying "oh I'm so emotional that I have to go up against my childhood friend... I'll do my best because I know he's worked hard too...." and then following that up with "yeah. we were fine. ig" BOY if you're going to LIE at least be CONSISTENT

[spiderslvts]

some new tags ?? some new tags !! + affiliate tags :]

  .   🕸️  HOW   OUT   OF   HAND   IT’S   GOTTEN       ╱     ooc.

  .   🕸️  MY   FLESH   IS   LACED   WITH   SUGAR   AND   MAGGOTS       ╱     asks.

  .   🕸️  YOU   SAY   YOU   MISS   ME    (  I’M   RIGHT   HERE  )       ╱     starters.

  .   🕸️  WITH   PINK   EYESHADOW   AND   A   SOBBING   PRAYER       ╱     isms.

  .   🕸️  ANYTHING   COULD   BE   HOLY   UNDER   NEON  LIGHTS       ╱     visage.

  .   🕸️  DO   YOU   FEEL   THE   EYES   OVER   YOUR   BODY   STILL?       ╱     promo.

  .   🕸️  TO   SWEETLY   MELT   IN   SIN       ╱     rp memes.

  .   🕸️  I   DRINK   ;   I   BURN   ;   I   SHATTER   MY   OWN   DREAMS       ╱     open starter.

  .   🕸️  YOUR   FISH   HOOK   IN   MY   MOUTH       ╱     crack.

  .   🕸️  EATEN   IN   PIECES   ;   NOT   MEANT   TO   BE    KNOWN   WHOLE       ╱     ic.

  .   🕸️  I   BELIEVE   YOU   LIKE   A    BEATEN   DOG       ╱     dash games.

  .   🕸️  I   WILL   NEVER   BE   FORGIVEN   FOR   WANTING       ╱     affiliates.

  .   🕸️  KISS   ME   WITH   MY   BLOOD   BETWEEN   YOUR   TEETH       ╱     ships.

  .   🕸️  TO   BE   LOOKED   AT    &.   NEVER   SEEN       ╱     art.

  .   🕸️  TOUCHED   DOWN   TO   THE   DELICATE   BONES       ╱     poetry.

  .   🕷  |   IN  NEON  LIGHTS     ╱     canon &. main verse.

  .   🕷  |   THE  CALL  OF  THE  ANGELS     ╱     overlord verse.

  .   🕷  |   FEATHER  BOAS  AND  GLITTER     ╱     70’s verse. (ft. sirserpentine)

  .   🕷  |   OVERSEER  OF  HELL     ╱     zestial’s employee verse (ft. zestials)

  .   🕷  |   GOOD  OLD  FASHIONED  LOVER  BOY     ╱     human verse.

  .   🕷  |   LACED  WITH  BELLADONNA     ╱     lost twins verse (ft. spyderdust)

  .   ♡  DO  YOU  LIKE  THE  SHOW ?  ARE  YOU  TIRED  OF  IT ?     ╱     videoaux.

  .   ♡  THE  LAST  SHRED  OF  TRUTH  IN  THE  LOST  MYTH  OF  TRUE  LOVE     ╱     hellsbroadcaster.

  .   ♡  I  COULD  NEVER  DEFINE  ALL  THAT  YOU  ARE  TO  ME     ╱     r-adio.

  .   ♡  BUT  I’D  NEVER  SAY  I  LOVE  YOU  JUST  TO  HEAR  YOU  SAY  IT  BACK     ╱     sirserpentine.

  .   ♡  I’M  PUT  TO  AWE  SOMETHING  SO  FLAWED  AND  FREE     ╱     dark-ambition.

  .   ♡  YOUR  BEAUTY  NEVER  EVER  SCARED  ME     ╱     gamblins.

  .   ♡  THE  FEAR  OF  THE  UNKNOWN  /  THE  FACE  IN  MONOCHROME     ╱     zestials.

  .   ♡  YOU  HATE  THE  APPLAUSE  /  YOU  CRAVE  THE  ATTENTION     ╱     xluciifer.

  .   ♡  BUT  YOU’RE  HOLDING  ME  LIKE  WATER  IN  YOUR  HANDS     ╱     oriiginis.

[yume-fanfare]

makes my stomach churn

[faaun]

oh my god ! haha . anyway a bit buzzed perhaps. anyway here's what happened on the date

[moe-broey]

*pulls out a crumpled up piece of paper*

My transfemme Fire Emblem Headcanons. Include:

> Rosado, transfemme non-binary, most likely to use neopronouns or multiple sets of pronouns (fae/faer, she/he, never let 'em know your next move)

> Forrest, has been on estrogen for years but still says "I'm a prince" if asked and insists on using he/him pronouns (may be closeted, may be in denial, may do so out of a sense of obligation, may be a case of pronouns being "indicative of but not exclusive to gender identity", may also just have an exceedingly complicated relationship with the gender)

> Loki, a shapeshifter, chooses to look Like That (and she's so based for it)

> Gullveig. Just. Everything Seidr/Heidr/Kvasir and Gullveig have going on. Is so transgender. To me

And on vibes alone

> Triandra

[thisismenow3]

I don’t get how people can conflate Hamas with all Palestinians

Unless they’re the same kind of dumb that writes off every citizen of the USA or Canada or UK etc for the often ultra conservative usually imperialist acts of those countries’ governments. There’s a weird skip of the record I usually see for the ones that’re usually deeper thinkers. Suddenly “Hamas brought this on Gaza, the blockade was also in retaliation to the last time they did something.” And I want to point out that they’re conflating a terrorist grouping with an entire people. But they’re also advocating for genocidal group punishment (blockade of Gaza). The next response is usually the false premise of “there are arab communities in Israel! Wouldn’t they be gone if Israel genocidal?” “Fam, do you think Native Americans don’t exist anymore? Do you think aboriginal Australians don’t exist anymore? Genocide doesn’t mean “we killed ‘em all, wasn’t a genocide til we finished the job.” (Nevermind that arab in this context is ignoring that to be Palestinian is to arab what English is to Germanic peoples). Genocide also is never persued in a way that will actually succeed in killing 100%. Cause that’s never the top goal of genocide. Genocide is the tool a group that is in power or favored by the powerful use to steal land and resources from another group. Land and homes and resources have been stolen from Palestinians nonstop since the founding of Israel. All genocides are for settler populations as part of a movement and/or imperialism. The definition of genocide even mentions that mass killings don’t even have to be happening if stealing land, killing culture, forcing people into camps or out of a country, etc are happening. Then it’s a genocide.

But if someone really thinks an American armed elite military curb stomping civilians “in order to get at some terrorists” is a “justified turn of events” then they either agree that American cops can racially profiled and kill on a whim by the same logic or fail to see the direct line. Modern subjugation is the same as it has been for hundreds of years. It’s always been “why are you hitting yourself?!?!?” type bullshit except nowadays there’s war crimes done with bladed person seeking rockets instead of muskets. The famines due to blockades are the exact same though

[anadrenalineslut]

it does NOT surprise me that there are SO MANY tabloid movies coming out being labelled as "documentaries" filled with "friend of a friend of a friend" claims or like heavily, heavily, heavily biased with a clear narrative the filmmaker wanted to push from the beginning that tells only one possible explanation of the truth.

usually if a documentary is trying really, really, really, really hard to make you think a certain way, it's a propaganda piece. you shouldn't have to force feed your audience the "right" opinion to take away from the film evidence. you should present the full story as accurately as possible with real historical evidence to back up the storyline and the audience will walk away with the right idea.

documentaries should not have an overly persuasive tone to them because you should be able to follow the facts to get to the right answer yourself. if you find yourself walking away from a documentary feeling nothing but "wow this proves exactly what i suspected to be true why arent more people angry about niche radicalizing viewpoint that most people find to be inaccurate" you should recognize that as the first step to being indoctrinated into extremist behaviors and thoughts.

[alwayswiselight]

BEING GAY DOES NOT DEFINE ME

Being gay does not define me as a person. Being homosexual is merely a facet of who I am. Therefore, I have deleted several overtly gay posts that have received too many likes from gay men. I didn't come here for that. And, I'm too old to care about that sort of affirmation from others.

The events following October 7 have reminded me that I am a loving and compassionate individual. That is the persona that I prefer over everything else. And, I will always continue to promote truth and justice here and elsewhere.

As the great Sufi philosophers and poets write: Clean your mirror so that you can see who you really are. Also: Burn your house down so that you can find the treasure buried under it.

LOVE ALONE IS ETERNITY.

[livvyofthelake]

just saw a tiktok. listen if you’re gonna compare your characters to laurie jo and amy little women you need to really put on your thinking caps with it you cannot just be saying shit this isn’t a game….

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

”hey tell the kids to shut up the grown ups are talking'” look you want me to be honest I’m just frustrated at a decent amount of young Christians (we’re in the same age range I’m not an old man) I know who are infinitely more knowledgeable on the mechanics of faith than I’ll ever be but still act like teenagers. They still constantly insult people and put struggling people down and hurl slurs at everyone and occasionally even speak about injuring people. They irritate me constantly. They’re smarter than I’ll ever be but the way they act honestly driven me, as a neophyte in the same age, farther away and into more confusion.

*sighs deeply* Beloved, I understand where you're coming from. But I need you to understand that you cannot expect the Church to mandate this, nor expect anyone to enforce it. Your personal opinion isn't going to change anyone's mind.

I'm 19 years old, my brother in Christ, and I have known plenty of people like the ones you're talking about right now, but guess what?

You are the one thing in life you can control. Likewise, I am the one thing in life I can control. And so that's what I'm going to spend my time focusing on. My response to them, my behaviors towards them, my love of them. Because that's the only thing that I will have to answer for at the end of my life.

And unfortunately, as much as it might pain you, you need to understand that people are idiots and jerks sometimes, but telling them to sit down and be quiet will do nothing but make them resentful of the very thing that you want them to love.

Moreover, and I cannot stress this enough, who are we to judge? There but by the grace of God go I. No one is perfect, and we are all in different places. Simply because someone is in a different place than you despite being the same age or having more of a theological background does not mean that they shouldn't speak, but rather that you should develop the understanding to know the truth from the lies. When someone tells you that God's not real, is your faith shaken? No. It's a lie. Therefore so does it follow that you should learn how to respond in both truth and charity to those who spout nonsense from a place of authority, no matter their age.

Perhaps this is not what you wanted to hear, but as far as I can tell and have lived, it is true.

[zoology]

this post is not about “antis” or “paraphilia,” a concept that is antithetical to healing from OCD and all forms of intrusive thoughts. you are not your intrusive thoughts and thoughts aren’t actions but publicly posting your fantasies about doing harm to others IS an action and legitimizing your intrusive thoughts & urges as “real” and a core part of your identity is bizarre and reflects extremely poorly on what you actually believe and desire. paraphilia as a medical condition or mental illness is a hypothesis born from sex-negativity, homophobia, and transphobia & self-identifying as a paraphile on tumblr is a dogwhistle for wanting to commit actual harm — nobody with a mummification or scat fetish is identifying themselves as a paraphile and you know it, “pro-para” activism centers solely on normalizing sexual abuse.

if you’re going to come onto my post and argue with me about how i have OCD but still have “paraphiles dni” in my bio you are either extremely misinformed or deliberately obfuscating the truth of what this dogwhistle means. if you have thoughts about hurting people or animals, you are not a rapist or an abuser just for having those thoughts. but if you make these thoughts a core part of your identity, if you tell others and yourself that they are real and reflective of what you feel and believe, then obviously i am going to think that they are real and reflective of what you feel and believe and i want nothing to do with you for the exact same reasons i want nothing to do with bigots: your BELIEFS (not thoughts, BELIEFS) guide your actions.

to anyone with sexual intrusive thoughts that they don’t like and find stressful or upsetting, GET OUT OF PARAPHILE SPACES. you are more than your intrusive thoughts. you don’t deserve to stew in misery and convince yourself that you can never move past these thoughts and that they define you. you CAN move on and live a stress-free life with acceptance and ERP therapy. the self-identified pedophiles and zoophiles you’re hanging out with are not interested in helping you heal, improve your self-esteem, or develop an identity outside of sexual intrusive thoughts.

people who base their entire identities around a supposed uncontrollable desire to commit rape and publicly post abusive sexual fantasies can’t have it both ways by calling what they otherwise describe as an unchangeable desire “just a thought” when called out. if you don’t want to hurt anyone, get away from people who unashamedly do and begin working to move past these intrusive thoughts regardless of if you’re diagnosed with OCD or not.

[eupheme]

— tooth and nail

alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕

[alinaandalion]

i really don't get the debate over sophie's "real" name.

coming back and telling it to parker, hardison, and eliot while withholding it from nate is about her choosing her family, giving them something of herself that she considers deeply intimate, while making it clear that she no longer trusts nate. they play it like a flirtatious game like always but it is ultimately a question of trust and intimacy and nate has to earn that from her after what he did.

and he does! and idk, i find it so meaningful that he proposes with her birth name, acknowledging her past while asking for her future, and at the same time, he knows that it isn't her real name anymore. because her real name is about who she has chosen to be.

and that's sophie