No Thoughts, Just Him...

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream, and see the light…

THIS IS FXCKIN ART!

Jujutsu Kaisen | Shibuya Incident Arc Opening

pure wholesomeness if anybody wants it 😻

animal - masterlist

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: a man with no memories and the instincts of an animal finds his place in your home, and in your heart (it’s feral!logan)

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual thoughts and mentions of sex, mentions of blood, angst, drinking/alcohol, violence, killing, smoking cigars, smut (in chapter 6), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, pregnancy (in the epilogue) warnings will be added along with chapters

not all facts about reader may apply to you. i tried to keep it vague enough so you can insert yourself into the story, but writing a character requires knowing their personality, so it is impossible for this to fit everyone.

chapter 1: in which you meet logan

chapter 2: in which your relationship deepens and he speaks to you for the first time

chapter 2.5: an interlude in logan’s pov

chapter 3: in which you and logan share your first kiss

chapter 4: in which logan starts to regain his memories

chapter 5: in which you and logan start to patch things up

chapter 5.5: an introspection in logan’s pov

chapter 6: in which you and logan go all the way for the first time (smut)

epilogue: in which you’re pregnant and logan’s obsessed

bonus headcanons!

lazy mornings and the proposal

drabbles

feral!logan: the original drabble that started it all

feral!reader: what if reader also had feral traits?

more chapters and drabbles may be added… feel free to send requests!

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

I have been looking at this all day 😉

I only took one thing away from deadpool and wolverine and its this image:

I could look at this all day

is it me or is there a serious lack of charlie hunnam fics?

as a psychology student who learns physiology, im shook.

didn't realise the space inside the body was this tight. damn...

🥹🥹🥹

forever isn't a long time

summery: satoru can't imagine a time when you're not at his side

contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, microscopic amount of angst (but it's there), comfort

you have been writing for quite a while now on that stupid piece of paper you grabbed from somewhere. satoru didn't see what you were writing, and he didn't ask when you sat down on the couch beside him and started doing whatever you're doing.

he wanted to concentrate on his movie. he really did. though even he himself noticed how his attention drifted slowly away as his eyes looked at you every few seconds. "well, the shopping list is getting kinda long." he finally said with a smile, trying to figure out what you were doing.

your eyes remained on the paper. "i'm writing my will." you corrected him dryly, whereupon he needed a good minute to process what you had just said so casually.

"hah? and why would you do something like that?" he asked, and his anger only grew when he saw that you just shrugged your shoulders and continued writing. "stop it! stop writing immediately!" he shouted, fighting you for the paper because he wanted to take it away from you. "give it to me!"

you complained at his childish behavior. "you stop it, satoru! what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, trying to defend yourself from his suprise attack as best as you could by turning your hand with the paper as far back as you could, only to have him climb on top of you to reach it. "satoru! i mean it!" you yelled out as he succeeded at snatching the paper from you and then went back to his seat.

"why are you writing a will like some crazy woman, seriously..." he muttered to himself and just ignored you as he tore the paper in his hands without a second thought. without even looking at it.

you just looked wide-eyed and couldn't believe that he did that. you had invested a lot of thought into that paper. "you're the crazy one! what kind of sane person reacts like that? it's not my fault that most people in this job die before they reach thirty!" you stated, annoyed and were really pissed off at his behavior. "i'm just thinking ahead, unlike you."

he just shook his head. "well, most people don't have the strongest jujutsu sorcerer as their boyfriend, aka me. so stop worrying about it. you won't die under thirty." he promised you and could guess what your next argument would be, which is why he added quickly, "actually, screw that. you will never die, not under my watch. we will be together forever and ever, which means that you will never need a stupid will."

you looked a little worried at that statement. like, you were aware of the fact that he had abandonment issues, but this was something else. "satoru, i think that..."

he firmly grabbed your hand. "if you leave me, i will kill myself." he whined.

you just sighed and patted his head with your hand before you started going through his hair. he leaned further into your comforting touch. "okay, then i will never die." you said while you looked into his eyes and saw a smile appear on his face. you still couldn't help but tease him a little, though. "what a waste. i was thinking of getting a pink coffin and was just making my funeral playlist. thought about putting some maroon 5 and nicki minaj in there for the vibe."

satoru hit you lightly. "shut up. that sounds like we're celebrating your death or something. you can listen to maroon 5 and nicki when you're alive and well. i can't believe you said that."

you chuckled a bit. "come on, i'm just kidding. you love to fool around, don't you? why can't i do it every once in a while." you joked but stopped when you saw him get up from the couch. you followed him quickly. "satoru! i'm sorry! don't be mad."

he wasn't. how could he be mad at you when life was this short even after you promised him to live forever.

just saw the movie....want this tortured baby so i can heal him 😭

Late Night Mends

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.

Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!

************************************************************************

It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in. 

It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out. 

You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him. 

It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head. 

You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway. 

You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still. 

You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient. 

“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand. 

“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit. 

“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly.  He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch. 

You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug. 

His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him. 

“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question. 

“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.

“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response. 

“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-” “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much. 

You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other. 

He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club. 

“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.

He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours. 

Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it. 

His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle. 

You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone. 

He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.

Oh the Deadpool tag is trending? I wonder why—

… oh

my new year's gift ✨️

gojo is sure that he’s going to die today.

you’re gonna kill him, tsumiki’s gonna kill him. hell, megumi’s probably gonna kill him too.

once gojo finds him, that is.

the task had been simple: go to the mall and get a picture with the mall santa. easy. fool-proof. but he’d turned his back for thirty seconds to look at a nice shirt in a display, and now the brat’s nowhere to be seen.

he’d always been thankful that the seven year-old was relatively independent. it meant less work for him. but now it’s been fifteen minutes, he hasn’t seen that sea-urchin hair anywhere, and gojo’s now feeling the panic of a single, overworked parent in a mop commercial.

he shouldn’t have let you talk him out of the backpack leash. “it’s impossible to lose him now, he’s seven,” you’d said.

well, it was possible. bet you’re gonna feel real stupid when he says ‘i told you so.’

(stupid, amongst other things. anger might win out if gojo comes home alone, without even the picture with the knock-off santa.)

he slides his shades down every time a group of kids passes by, because maybe megumi’s made a friend and run off with another group of fellow delinquents? he hopes that’s the case.

a quick check to his watch confirms gojo’s now been searching for twenty minutes, and he’s really kinda worried. what if something had happened? he’s ready to call the police, the DA, maybe even nanamin—

“excuse me, sir?”

he whirls around to see a mall cop behind him, an almost laughable attempt of a stern look on his face and powdered sugar caught in his moustache. not exactly who he’d turn to right now, but he has a badge and probably has access to the intercom system.

“yeah?”

“we’ve been getting reports of a tall man with sunglasses staring at children. you’re going to need to come with me,” he says, almost boredly. there’s a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt that gojo could crumble into pieces with a flick of his wrist.

yet he blinks, brain short-circuiting as he processes rent-a-cop’s words. what?

“staring at children— i’ll have you know i’m a teacher!” kinda. “and that if anyone’s child is in danger, it’s probably mine!”

“sir,” he sighs, “could you just come with me?”

“my kid is missing,” he insists. “could you just help me out before literally everyone i know chews me out and i’m responsible for losing one of the greatest things to come out of his shit family?”

this man looks like he could honestly care less, but heaves a great sigh and turns around, gesturing for him to follow.

gojo trails after him, eyes still roving around for any sign of megumi until they get to what he assumes is a very sad, not very secure mall jail.

and sitting there in a little room with a flimsy lock, is fushiguro megumi.

“holy— holy shit!” he laughs, with relief, with amusement, he doesn’t know. he pounds on the glass, watching the kid’s eyes widen slightly. “that’s my kid! megumi!! what the hell did you do?”

“he got into a fight with the mall santa and kicked an elf in the family jewels,” the cop at the desk answered. “we called his guardian.”

gojo stares at him, brows furrowed. his phone hadn’t rung once! “but i’m his guar—”

“satoru.”

uh oh.

“hey!” he grins, whirling around to greet you with a nervous laugh and a kiss to the lips that you don’t reciprocate. “babe! what are you doing here?”

“i’m here to bail megumi out of mall jail,” you answer flatly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i asked you to do one thing for tsumiki. you just had to get a cute picture of her brother with santa claus. how are you going to tell her that he’s been banned from the mall until next year?”

the cop opens the door to let the little delinquent out.

megumi digs into his pants pocket, holding a crumpled photo out to you. “i went and got the picture when he left to look at clothes.”

the sorcerer withers under your glare as you take the photo, smoothing it out as best you can to take a look.

“megumi, this is a picture of you punching santa in the face.”

-

“hey, gojo-sensei, what’s this?” itadori asks, fishing a creased piece of paper from his wallet.

“i thought i told you to get my frozen yogurt stamp card,” he chuckles.

“you kept that?” megumi asks, staring at him in the rear view mirror.

“he made copies and sent it out as a christmas card,” you laugh from the passenger seat. “‘merry christmas from the fushigojos’”

“oh my god,” megumi groans. “you guys are so embarrassing.”

“we had to bail you out of jail.”

“fushiguro went to jail?” nobara gasps. “why didn’t you tell us this? you never tell us anything!”

“it was at a mall.”

“you were in a room that locked from the outside,” gojo quips. “sounds like jail to me.”

“let’s not forget the reason why he was there,” you grumble. “negligence.”

“you’re the one who said we didn’t need the backpack leash! i told you so.”