#but i am also keeping my guard up

[non-un-topo]

To the next adventure...

Image description and details under cut

I.D.

[A drawing of Nicky, Joe, Quynh, and Andy from The Old Guard. They are all in profile, walking in a straight line facing the sun. They are dressed in medieval clothing and armour, and each carry their own weapons and bags. Nicky has his sword, a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a dagger at his belt and another strapped to his ankle. Joe is holding his sword, a bag, and a coin purse. Quynh's bow is over her back, and her quiver is at her hip. Two daggers are strapped to her belt, one of them matching Nicky's. Andy is holding her axe, two bags, and a dagger. They each have serene expressions and closed eyes, as if they're not in a hurry. In the background, the seasons change from winter to spring, summer, fall. There is an old tree behind them, and its branches change with the seasons.]

[thisismisogynoir]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

[multi-lefaiye]

takes a long sip of water. it's okay. not every story will be finished. what matters is that i'm enjoying the process and writing and outlining something that makes me happy. <- affirmations said while visibly shaking a little

[somestorythoughts]

Radioactive Eldritch Jedi

Okay so when I say radioactive. The Force is primordial and eldritch and the jedi (and any other force users of a comparable level) resonate with the echoes of this primoridal of-the-world-and-yet-not-the-world energy like your body when you’re so close to a marching bacd you can feel the drums in your bones and they’re not the music or the instruments, they’re only the echo thereof, but the echo of something from the depths that bore the universe is still A Lot.

And when you look at them. There’s teeth that aren’t there the next minute, you could count them again and again for half an hour and never get the same number twice in a row. And that’s not mentioning when their teeth don’t fit in their mouth, don’t match each other, when there aren’t teeth in their mouths but claws...

That’s just one element of their face which is one element of their body.

You can smell them, even the species that don’t have particularly good senses of smell though it is far more distracting for them. Something fresh with light or rotting with dark, herby or sea salty or citrusy or floral and threaded with sweat or blood or sex to suit whatever they’ve been doing and it wouldn’t be remarkable except they smell simultaneously like their species and like something else entirely in a way that is clearly but indescribably not caused by soap or perfume or oil.

There’s a resonance in their voices. Something like there’s a drumbeat in their throat, like they’re speaking with the vibrations of a song you’ve always heard without knowing it, but always perfectly understandable. The sound of jedi singing in harmony with feeling has reduced cities to tears of joy or tears of pain, blood dripping from their ears in mirror of their tears.

Don’t get me started on their shadows, on the way they move in the dark

And they’d be leaking this strangeness 24/7 except they keep themselves so tightly shielded, not only hiding themselves so that they appear uncanny and not terrifyingly Other (they’ve been there time and time again and it is a problem. There are Consequences) but also keeping any of this force-energy-resonance leaking out into the world. Places where force sensitives have lived a long time thrum like a pulse, are touches with the energy of generations of force users relaxing enough to let their shields lower and their selves to leak and brush the walls and tables, etching their presences into the place like fire into wood, and when this touches people it changes them.

Not immediately. Not quickly. It can take months for anything to change and this is why jedi keep their shields maintained, because if you’re fully shielded nothing will happen, and this is part of why attachments are risky, because the emotion can affect the shields can change the one you love, because to say you love a jedi is not the same as accepting all that they are and being willing to change along with them because you can’t dodge that forever, and saying you’re willing to do this isn’t the same as being willing.

The changes aren’t quick, and not as Eldritch as the jedi, but they are permanent and definitely Other.

When shields crack or break, when a jedi lashes out with the force, it brushes an imprint on everything around them (those with any kind of vision skills can find this difficult or comforting to deal with, like a too-large gulp of hot tea) and a few times on the same thing doesn’t matter. Genuinely. Repeition is an entirely different matter.

War is hell. 

War is hell, and the jedi are holding on to each other for support, clinging interlocking arms, but they’re scattered around the galaxy and it’s so hard to actually reach each other.

Sometimes to know you’re supported isn’t enough. Not when you can’t reach their shoulder to lean on, for just a moment.

And the clones are going through hell with them, are dying around them, and they reach out to support the jedi who are doing their best not only to help them survive but to help them live in a war that wants them dead for a senate that doesn’t care and the jedi recognizes them as people so they reach out and the jedi can’t help but reach back.

The clones catch them when they fall, love them in different ways each as sure as the tides, and the jedi relax into it without realizing. Their shields crack over and over again because war is hell, but they also find them relaxing them, instinctively and unconsciously, because so little is certain but the clones’ willingness to go to hell and back for them is one of them and they feel safe.

And the echoes of the force that resonate in the heartbeats-nervepulses-bloodflows of the jedi leaves imprints on the clones that rises like paint added layer by layer and it changes them.

The clones don’t have a childhood of familiarity to fall back on, much less the shielding techniques to keep them looking “normal.” What they have is legions of brothers willing to support each other come hell or high water or unending clankers and jedi who at first beg their forgiveness for changing them (because it wasn’t supposed to happen and because they like how they are but everyone already sees them as strange and to beg forgiveness for making them like them is many jedi’s first instinct) then teach them how to hide it when they need to and the comfort of singing together, their voices ringing through their ships in tune with the thrumming in their blood, bone-deep.

[cemeterym]

i'm begging my uni to stop making every fucking student social activity something where you have to walk around a bunch if you are a slow walker who cannot help it they literally want you dead

[minglana]

one more night suffering through the curse of living in aragon, land where voice tones are very loud and booming. and some men refuse to cant control their voices so it can be 2 am and i will be hearing him speak in the room next door

[friendly-neighborhood-furry]

i made hunter a fursona bc i have no self control

bonus full body doodle:

[flowerflamestars]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Darth Maul, CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala & Coruscant Guard Clone Troopers, Padmé Amidala & CC-1010 Fox Characters: Padmé Amidala, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody, CC-1010 | Fox, Quinlan Vos, Clone Commander Thorn (Star Wars), CC-5869 | Stone, Mace Windu Additional Tags: sith mind control, Jedi Maul (Star Wars), annoyance to lovers, Recovery, Political Campaigns, Padmé Amidala Lives, chosen family, Fox killed the Chancellor, Ashoka Tano becomes a Jedi again, Galactic war consequences, Force-Sensitive CC-1010 | Fox Summary:

"This is why," he drawled, handsome face ruined by overflowing disdain, "We train children."

[teardropsonsmyguitar]

.

[erotetica]

‘the old guard’ is the name of a lil queer opera company tho.

They do Shakespeare in the park-type stuff. Nicky is a basso profondo & baritone Yusuf is marked down as annoyed and horny. The Plot is that Andy is a dramatic contralto & she takes the male/butch leads in drag, opposite quynh’s soprano (iirc contralto is the deepest register for women on a scale similar to the male tenor. whom also iirc usually get leading-man roles. Anyway it’s SUPER fascinating 2 me 2 swap them.) When quynh leaves, booker, a high tenor, does her bits in drag. There’s not as much vocal contrast between Booker and Andy tho, so after some faffing he goes back to his usual, supporting female roles, & enter Nile as prima donna soprano. Coolgirl career prima donna at Big Opera Houses, joining the guard to do queer shit. I think she’s a coloratura/whereas quynh was more of a Wagnerian soprano, & she fills the void quynh left with her own, brighter vocal style (themes & metaphors etc)

[gamebunny-advance]

My LGBT+ Headcanons

(Frank discussion about sex and sexuality ahead.)

I have once again neglected to actually think of art to do for pride month, but as a consolation, here's an update on my list of LGBT+ headcanons (except when they're OCs, in which case it's just canon).

-----

Notes

*"Genderfucked" just means that their gender identity doesn't easily fit under a specific label, due to complications. It's usually due to the character being non-human and thus existing outside the gender binary by default. In other words, this label means they may not be literally queer depending on your definitions, but they otherwise represent or are informed by a queer identity or experience.

**Bisexuality is trans-inclusive. In the context of this list, I've chosen to use "bisexual" to indicate that the character has some preferences for gender expression, and I'm using "pansexual" to indicate that the character has little to no preference in gender expression. If it's important, then I'll specify what they're attracted to, but it usually isn't.

Examples:

A character that is attracted exclusively to cismen and transwomen would be listed as bisexual.

A character that has no preference for gender, but is exclusively attracted to feminine expressions would also be listed as "bisexual."

A transfemale character that is only attracted to cismen and transmen would be listed as "straight."

***Not all of the characters listed here are what I'd call "positive" representation. Most (I'd say) are, but a handful aren't. Just remember: Depiction is not necessarily endorsement.

-----

OCs

*I'm only listing OCs that I've talked about at least once this year or are important to said OCs), but effectively every OC I have is queer in some fashion.

Kahon (they/them): Genderfucked. As a sentient arcade machine, Kahon doesn't have an assigned gender. They express a feminine identity when acting through Kun3h0, but doesn't particularly identify with any gender. Only attracted to other arcade machines and the characters in them.

Coexistence!Kun3h0 (any pronouns): Genderfucked. In an AU where Kun3h0 is her own character, Kun3h0 is still genderfucked. She was built and designed as a female, but once they gained sentience he said, "fuck that" and went on to do his own thing.

GAB (she/they): Non-binary/Asexual. They're just a little guy.

Carol (he/him): Transman/Asexual. Was gay in life, but becoming a zombie has been a huge damper on his sex life.

The Prince Formerly Known as Frog (us/we): Cisman/Gay. Uses the royal "we" to refer to themselves, but otherwise uses he/him pronouns.

Floats (he/him): Cisman/Gay (closeted). I want to talk more about his relationship with sexuality since it's a core part of his character, but I think explaining it here would be a little too heavy for a list like this.

Spector (he/him and she/her): *Transwoman/Straight. *Identifies as a cismale and uses he/him pronouns at the beginning of the story, but transitions later. This isn't a character I've talked about too much or even really drawn, but she's Floats' business partner and is inspired by the hypermasculine characters you used to find in early FPS games like Doom and Duke Nukem.

-----

Smash Bros/Retro Buddies

Mr. G&W (he/him): Genderfucked/Ace. He's a shape-shifter and normally lacks genitalia, but he was considered male when he was "born" and identifies as male in all forms. Normally, he doesn't go through the trouble of recreating sex organs when he transforms, since his transformations are usually just a means to an end. Consequently, his body doesn't normally produce those kinds of hormones, so his libido is very low. Sex for him is just a bonding activity that he doesn't particularly seek out.

ROB (any pronouns, but usually he/him): Genderfucked/Demisexual. Technically speaking, he was never assigned a gender at "birth." Due to the limited A.I. of the other ROBs making them only capable of addressing people in the first person and Master Hand never needing to address ROB in the third person, ROB effectively had no pronouns while living on the Island of the Ancients. He only answers to he/him pronouns out of convenience since people assumed his pronouns due to his masculine name, but he doesn't particularly identify with any gender. In the human!AU, he would have been born with a vagina, but is still indifferent to gender as a concept for the same reasons. Since he lived on an isolated island surrounded only by people he considered family, and the first new people he ever met tortured and enslaved said family, he grew a great distrust of other people and is only attracted to people with whom he's already bonded with.

Puck (Pac-Man) (he/him): Transman/Pansexual. He was already transitioning when he first met Pepper. Since they started as rivals, he didn't bother ever bringing it up. When they later fell in love, he still forgot to mention he was trans because he figured that he already said it at some point. They later had 2 kids and are happily married to this day.

Pepper (Ms. Pac-Man) (she/her): Transwoman/Bisexual. She met Puck pre-transition, when she still went by "Otto." She left Pac-Land briefly to work on her transition, and when she came back and met Puck again, she forgot to clarify that she and Otto were the same person because she thought he would just put 2 and 2 together. He didn't. They both didn't realize the other was trans until a conversation about having kids came up. They both laughed it off and are happily married to this day.

Blinky (he/him): Cisman/Gay. Has a love-hate thing for Puck and won't admit it, but wouldn't do anything to seriously sabotage Puck's marriage lest their rivalry become legitimately hostile. He acts tough, but he's a hopeless romantic.

Pinky (she/her): Transwoman/Pansexual. Joined the Ghost Gang as a man and transitioned over time. Unlike Blinky, she is an aspiring homewrecker, but the Pacs are too loyal to each other for anything to come of it.

Inky (he/they): Non-binary/Asexual. The inner mechanisms of his mind are an enigma.

Clyde (pronouns vary): Genderfluid/Bisexual. Not much to say about Clyde. He just does whatever is comfortable for her at the moment.

Tabuu (any pronouns): Genderfucked/Pansexual. Same situation as G&W. He's a little more sexually active, but only because he can use it to get what he wants.

Duck Hunt (Human AU only): Both are cismen (he/him) and gay, but not in a romantic relationship with each other.

-----------

NSR

DJSS (he/him): Non-binary/Ace. AFAB and rejects gender as a limiting concept that he has grown beyond. He's still a little self-conscious about his height though (HRT helped him get wide, but it didn't really help him get tall). Claims to be "sapiosexual" but is actually just uninterested in relationships under most circumstances and sets impossibly high standards just so he doesn't have to deal with it.

Neon J. (he/him): Transman/Gay. He doesn't actually remember that he's trans due to his memory getting corrupted over time. He assumes that he's a cisman and just lost his penis in the war. Is currently pursuing DJSS because he likes a challenge.

Tatiana (she/her): Ciswoman/Lesbian. Was very sexually active during the Goolings era and has only slowed down due to having a lot of other responsibilities now. Originally assumed she was bi and later figured out she was a lesbian. This isn't public knowledge about Tatiana since she's rather reserved about her personal life, but people who know Kul Fyra know. As an aside, she wouldn't date an employee because she's witnessed first hand that having a relationship with someone who is too involved in her business is a disaster waiting to happen.

Kliff (he/him): Cisman/Bisexual (closeted pre-revolution). Believes he's straight because he's only pursued Tatiana romantically, with the excuse that any encounters he had with men were out of desperation from her not reciprocating. He accepts his sexuality post-revolution after he lets go of his fixation on Tatiana. However, he seems to be attracted specifically to people that have similar traits to Tatiana (like big muscular arms and/or fiery personalities), so how "over it" he is about it is debatable.

Mayday (she/her): Ciswoman/Bisexual. She's inexperienced with any kind of romance and has only recently started exploring her attraction to women. Has yet to consider Zuke as a romantic partner, but it could happen.

Zuke (he/him): Cisman/Bisexual. Primarily straight, but could pursue a male love interest if they hit it off. Has considered the possibility of a romantic relationship with Mayday, but is putting it off until they've had more experience as a band (he doesn't want to repeat what happened between him and Eve).

Zam (he/him): Cisman/Gay. I don't have anything to say about it. I just think he's gay.

Yiruk (he/him): Non-binary/Bisexual. Also not much else to say.

Remi (he/him): Demiboy/Straight? He's put a lot of himself into Sayu and is using her as a way to experiment with his feminine side, but he doesn't really feel like a girl. He hasn't had any interest in a relationship yet, so his sexuality is ambiguous right now.

Dodo (he/they): Non-binary/Pansexual. Is very loose with his gender identity. He likes wearing feminine clothes and make-up, but doesn't identify as female. They just like what they like.

Tila (she/her): Demigirl/Bisexual. Is pretty sure she's a girl, but feels ambiguous about it. She has a crush on Remi and generally likes boys, but she thinks girls are really cute too.

Sofa (he/him): Cisman/Gay. Not much to talk about~ He doesn't currently have any crushes.

Sayu (she/her): N/A. "Officially" (as in officially in my headcanon) Sayu is a blank slate so fans can project anything onto her. The most common interpretation with fans is that she's a transgirl lesbian, but other interpretations go around too.

Eve (she/her): Transwoman/Demisexual. She's really attracted to anyone that she thinks could understand her, and is usually disappointed when they aren't. Post-revolution, she hasn't quite opened up to dating again, but at the very least she's healing.

1010 (he/him): Genderfucked/Pansexual. All 1010s are coded without any particular sexual preference, as to make them incapable of rejecting a fan's affection on the basis of sexuality. In this case of "genderfucked" I actually read them as cismen to go with the theme that they are a manufactured product that are not allowed to display any "unmarketable" traits. They'd partake in "rainbow capitalism" but not actually confirm that any of them could be attracted to men or have a non-male identity.

I know I killed DSYNC, but these are the exceptions in the DSYNC!AU:

Kerinting/DSYNC!Green (pronouns vary): Genderfluid. His personality core uses semi-random programming which has leaked into his gender settings, causing her to randomly change gender at random intervals. Sometimes she'll be one gender for a few weeks. Sometimes it only lasts a day. Either way, it throws his sense of self out of whack when her current identity doesn't match his presentation. Kerinting manages this a little better since she's allowed to alter her body more, while this is a major obstacle for Green.

DSYNC!Blue: Gay (closeted). Is in a similar situation to Green. Blue's personality core makes him hyper focus on singular targets. However, this inadvertently affected his sexuality settings, so he became exclusively homosexual. He tries to hide it as to not start controversy for the group (which is easy to do since his emotional expression is a lot more subtle than the others). White is the only one that knows and hasn't told the Captain at Blue's request.

DSYNC!White: Agender/Asexual. In this AU, he has a very negative reaction to being a sex symbol against his will. As a result, he's rejected his sense of sexuality and is sex/touch repulsed. He only keeps up appearances as it pertains to his job. If he had it his way, he would retire alone near the sea and fish for a living.

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Moonside (My ACNH Island) (Sorry, these aren't as deep as others. The lore on Moonside isn't actually that strong, so I haven't given it much thought U_U)

Fuchsia (she/her and he/him): Ciswoman/Lesbian. Currently pursuing Syrup, but Syrup isn't ready to reciprocate yet.

Norma (she/her): Transwoman/Bisexual. In a relationship with Merengue.

Merengue (she/her): Ciswoman/Lesbian. In a relationship with Norma.

Dotty (she/her): Transwoman/Lesbian. This is a carry-over from New Leaf. She doesn't have a partner on Moonside, but her original partner was Coco.

Rolf (he/him): Transman/Gay

Raymond (he/him): Cisman/Gay

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Misc.

Mike Hatsune (he/him): Transman/Bisexual. I dunno if it's canon that he's Miku's dad/creator, but I prefer to think of him as future Miku after he retires from being an idol and goes on to be Domino's new overlord CEO.

Roba (he/him): Transman/Asexual. I think that's just actually canon through subtext. That would unfortunately mean that his friends are kinda transphobic as they consistently misgender him, but I'd like to think they get better about it later.

Horace (he/him): Bisexual. Also actually canon since we know he likes girls and has also fucked a bear thinking it was his best friend.

Alfe (he/him): Gay. Probably canon, but I don't have much evidence to back it up.

[liltaz-asatreat]

Binging Amnesty is all fun and games until you hit the end of the Calamity Tree arc and you start the beginning of the snowball effect- well. The Calamity Tree arc was the beginning of the snowball effect tbh. The interlude after is just the start of the snowball picking up speed lol :/

[deityofhearts]

every manhwa author is a coward and makes the regressed/reincarnated character forgive the people who hurt them/led to their original death so I’m taking things into my own hands and making a character who regresses/reincarnates and refuses to forgive the people especially since they only changed because the character is “perfect” and “different” now

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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[teaboot]

I seriously hope you can job hop to something else cause you're not chaotic neutral man.

You're still a white Canadian whose actions and job help more the megacorps keep the status quo.

I really looked up to you but that's on me.

And yeah, I know security, cop shit and military pay good money but at the cost of my people? Fuck no.

Listen. I feel you. But there's a lot of cold, power-tripping bastards in this line of work and if I stick where I am then they don't get to have that.

I'm not a cop. I am not beholden to the justice system. Sometimes I get contracted out to people who say shit like "addicts should be put down, if you see any crackheads drag them out" and I nod and say "yes sir", and then I take their money and use it to buy those people coffee and a sandwich and tell 'em when free lunch days are at the church.

Boss sees me walking with someone and thinks I'm kicking them out, gives my boss great reviews. I'm having a great conversation with Connie, who used to by a stylist and wound up on the street after an accident that left her with chronic pain and a heroin addiction. Connie learns that there's a gap between two property lines nearby where technically nobody can call to have her removed.

There's a really sweet guy in town who's normally very nice, but sometimes flies into paranoid rage and yells slurs at people. Sometimes he forgets he's been banned from places and wanders in looking for a wife he hasn't had for nine years. Owner sends me to kick him out, and I ask "hey Mike, how are you?" And see where we are today.

One time there was a guy whose abusive ex kept following him to work, and I got to walk him to his car at the end of every day to make sure she couldn't get him alone.

Another person had a stalker who kept asking receptionists when she was gonna be there, when she was supposed to leave, if she was in today. I'd keep record of every time he came in, every time someone saw him, every time he violated his restraining order or damaged her things.

And when I wonder if I'm actually helping or not, or if I'm part of the greater problem, I remember that other people who work with me call homeless people wildlife and talk about how bad they wanna get an excuse to fight someone and I remember that I'm the one who knows where the blind spots on the cameras are, and thank God it's not him.

My position is fundamentally different from that of the military or law enforcement. I don't *need* to be buddy-buddy with most of these dickheads- I don't *need* to send people into the justice system.

I do single-person foot patrol. Nobody cares how I get the job done. They say, "Hey, faceless goon number three- make that bastard disappear" and I say "on it, boss" and give him tickets to disney world.

I once asked another guard if he knew that one of our regulars used to be an airplane technician. He said, "No, I don't talk to them". Blanket "Them". "Them" as in street people. "Them" as in addicts, or shoplifters, or ex-cons, or sex workers.

I asked why, and he told me, "it's easier if you don't think of them as people."

Anyhow, now I get calls to "watch that sketchy lady who just came in" and I say, "yes, sir" and leave her the fuck alone, 'cause that's Jolene, and people always think she's on drugs and aggressive but she's just deaf in one ear and slurs cause she has brain damage, you dickhead

so yeah, don't worry, I've spent a lot of time weighing the pros and cons of my vocation, and I still think I'd rather be in charge of my locations than someone like Darryl, who dreams of "cuffing a perp" and drives a car with Punisher decals on the hood

Also it's minimum wage but that's kinda tangential

[ovaryacted]

GUARD DOG

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader || WC: 5.0k

SYNOPSIS: On another one of your joint club outings with Wade, your boyfriend Logan stands by to make sure you enjoy your night. Once you both arrive at your apartment, he tends to your needs and helps you relax.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Established Relationship. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, Reader is mid to late 20's]. Alcohol consumption. Kissing. Unprotected P in V. Shower sex. Fingering (f receiving). Manhandling. Biting/Marking Kink. Size Kink if you squint. Mutual fantasies of public sex. Worst!/Variant! Logan Howlett. Grumpy! Logan in public, soft! Logan in private. Wade is the third wheel who drinks for fun but can't get drunk (obvi). Descriptions of the reader's clothing (mini skirt & skimpy top). Reader is shorter than Logan in heels. Logan can pick the reader up.

A/N: Lord this was a pain in the ass to write for absolutely no reason, but I am glad it's done. Big shoutouts and thank yous to @ozarkthedog and @pedgito for reading this over and encouraging me. And also thank you to @zloshy and @studioghibelli for holding my hand and helping me out with the brainstorming process. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

To this day, Logan doesn’t know why he still puts up with Wade’s shit or agrees to his antics. But he doesn’t mind doing it so long as it keeps his eccentric friend off his back and keeps you happy.

The club he was brought to was loud, the air thick with the pungent stench of weed, and he swears he could distinctly sniff out cocaine in the bathrooms, irritating his nose. Bright strobe lights strained his vision, and the obnoxious pop music vibrating through the walls was anything but pleasing to his sensitive ears. Thankfully, the bar had Jack Daniels on the shelf, enough to do the job and keep himself busy.

He raises his arm to lean against the bar, sipping away at his fourth cup of whiskey, knowing that the buzz he feels will go away as quickly as it hits him. Adept eyes scanned the club, landing on your figure as you danced to the current song.

Logan admired the sway of your hips, the mini skirt you wore riding up your thighs with every pop and swivel. The low-cut top you paired it with shifted when your arms rose to the beat change, the open back showing more than enough skin to leave to the imagination. He could taste the light sheen of sweat from your neck at a distance, amplifying your natural pheromones that elevated the perfume you sprayed on earlier.

He did what he did best. He watched. Even with his dominating presence, he was hyper-aware of the other men who stood by prowling like hawks, stalking their prey and waiting for the best moment to attack. Wade was enough to keep you safe during your joint club outings, but now that he was with you, Logan ensured you made it home every night.

You were smart and vigilant, always were before you met him. But Logan was familiar with the instinctive behavior of men, especially men like him. Ill-tempered. Selfish. Prone to arguments and have an affinity to attract trouble. He knows what they were all thinking, creating mental checklists of what tricks they’d use to guarantee you went home with them instead. Countless fantasies of their hands feeling you up, touching you in ways that Logan was allowed to, in a way only he could.

His heart thumped in his ribs at the thought. The innate possession he felt towards you flared as he impatiently wiped his hand over the dark denim of his jeans, ignoring the growing itch to claw the next fucker that thought about coming within six feet of you.

You could hold your own; you’ve told him more than enough times that he didn’t need to stand by and monitor your every move. Yet he does it without hesitation, refusing to give anyone else a chance to breathe you in or get close enough to touch what was his. 

Wade waltzes to the bar and orders another martini, glancing at Logan and contorting his neck to peek at you dancing with a blissful smile.

“Having fun, Wolvie?” he asks, grin widening as his lips envelop the thin straw in his drink, slurping it up like a refreshing cup of water. 

“You know the answer to that,” Logan mutters, finishing the rest of his amber liquid in one gulp before tapping the cup on the bar countertop and asking for a refill. The bartender flashes him a look of concern, receiving a flick of Wade’s hand and topping off the glass.

“You’re five drinks in. Quit being so fucking grumpy,” Wade sneers, detecting someone walking in their direction. “Now flip that frown upside down, Logie bear. Our girl is coming over, and I don’t need you getting your panties in a twist because you’re moody.”

Logan rolled his eyes before spotting you striding to him, standing in front of the burly man with a hazy smile. He noticed the multitude of heads that turned to follow your direction, tracking you with every step you took toward the deviant pair. A low whistle seized his attention, Logan’s head rapidly spun at the sound to find its source and nip it in the bud. The growl settling in the back of his throat simmered down once your soft hand touched his chest, grounding him to you.

“Hey, old man.” Even in heels, you still couldn’t reach him face-to-face, smirking when his thick arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer. “Enjoyed the show?”

“The music in here fucking sucks, but I can’t complain too much,” Logan’s lips hovered over the shell of your ear, lowering his voice as he spoke. “You were my favorite part.”

“Oh, you weren’t looking at the girl in the cocktail dress? I don’t know, her dress was real short.” The corner of his mouth curled up, challenging your statement that feigned any truth. Giggling, you clutched his bicep, the alcohol loosening your tongue to speak more bluntly. You pivoted to spot Wade, who watched you both from afar in animated shock.

“Problem?”

“Sorry, honey. I just can’t stand seeing the two of you be all touchy-feely in front of me. It’s very disturbing.” Wade finished his martini, ordering a margarita and explicitly asking for a tiny umbrella. “I hate that you took my spot. Creeping in like a slut into a happy home and snatching my man away.”

Ever since Wade had introduced you to Logan almost a year ago, it had been an instant connection he got front-row seats to witness. He was excited when he finally compelled Logan to go to the club you both frequented, recalling how he raked his eyes over you when you weren’t looking. It was only a matter of time before you left the club with Logan one night, and Wade met him at the front door the following day like a disappointed parent acknowledging his walk of shame. 

All jokes aside, considering the pair he just unleashed into the world, he would believe himself to be the city’s most qualified and successful cupid.

“Can’t call me a homewrecker if there was no home to wreck, sweetie,” you shrugged, hearing Logan’s dry chuckle.

“Sure, whatever. But you should be thanking me, you know? You get to have those big, meaty hands on you all the time. Not to mention you get to fuck him and actually see his d-”

“Wilson.” Logan’s voice cut him off, causing Wade to murmur under his breath. You fronted the brunette, messing with the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t be mean to him. He’s right. I do have the happy privilege of fucking you all the time.” Your glossy lips hypnotized Logan, his hand kneading your rear as he caught your breathless laugh again. He’ll never fully admit it, but he’s always loved your lack of filter when you had a little bit to drink. You were funny and engaging without needing the extra boost, but something about you being openly vulgar made his blood flow south.

“That you do.” His ego blazes inside him, leaning forward to kiss you in the club for the first time that night.

You happily accepted it with a pleased hum, tasting the Jack he’d been drinking and exchanging the flavor of vodka still on your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his jacket, body pulsing with need as the alcohol in your system beelined straight to your clit. Audible gagging noises pushed you to draw away from Logan, your drunken sight landing on the culprit.

“Oh, am I interrupting you guys? I told you to give me a PDA warning next time before you start getting freaky, otherwise I’m joining,” Wade taunted, getting a scoff from you and an irritated grunt from his friend.

“How about we share another drink? Will you forgive me then, Wadey?” You flapped your lashes at him, his wrinkly skin creasing to mimic your gleeful appearance.

“Fine, but only because you know how to sweet talk me. Tequila?” Your optimistic nod motivated him to order another round of shots for the two of you to down. You felt a gentle squeeze on your arm, meeting Logan’s gaze and silent questioning. Can you handle drinking more?

“Just a few more, and we’ll go, okay?” You stroked his chin, kissing the corner of his jaw in reassurance. He asked to test your senses, only intervening to stop if you were too far gone to speak to him. Unlike him, he wants you to keep your liver intact.

“Alright. But the second he starts offering you shit to snort, we’re leaving.”

“I would do no such thing!” Wade dramatically reacts, offering two tequila shots while holding some of his own. “Besides, I don’t need our precious darling over here fucking up her pretty nose. She needs that thing to smell your bullshit from a mile away.”

With another laugh, you swallowed the shot of clear liquid, inhaling a hiss and consuming the next, sucking on the lime to reset your tastebuds. Your body warmed with a buzz from the drink, an electric shock coursing through your veins as it roused you. 

“C’mon, sugarplum, you owe me a dance.” You didn’t have time to waste as Wade dragged you to the dance floor, throwing Logan a flirty wave and joining your mutual friend. The Wolverine returned to his position, manning his post and sipping on the remaining liquid in his glass. He kept tallies on the wandering eyes that gravitate to you, fighting the urge to rip out every single one.

He’ll keep the peace for your sake. You were already his, you’ve been his ever since you took him home and made him stay the night. What more did he have to prove?

It was nearing two in the morning when you finally decided to call it a night. By now, the heels on your feet started slipping, and your footing grew unsteady when you attempted to walk to the bathroom. You held your bearings long enough for Logan to call a cab home after buying some greasy food for you to eat, shooing Wade once he said he was stopping by Vanessa’s.

Logan’s touch was constant the entire way home, skimming your thigh and lower back in the cab, responding to every one of your little mumbles to keep you awake until you arrived at your apartment. Getting you out of the backseat was another hassle he was familiar with, aiding you to stand up straight without accidentally exposing yourself. The best solution he came up with was carrying you inside, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he held you steady and trekked inside the apartment complex.

He didn’t mind the faint squeezes of your arms or the clenches of your thighs around his waist. You were calm, safe, and happy, mindlessly humming in the crook of his neck as he eased his way through the front door. Strong arms entrapped you as the familiar walls of your bedroom filled your vision, Logan placing you on the edge of your bed with a huff of breath.

“I’m gonna get you a cup of water. Alright?” Logan’s hazel eyes met yours, taking in your feeble nod.

“Okay,” voice light and airy, you patiently waited for Logan to return as promised. Within a minute, he had a tall glass of cold water in his hand, a few ice cubes floating at the top.

“Open up. Need you to drink some of this for me.” Heeding his command, you sipped the refreshing beverage, soothing your parched throat. You got halfway down the glass before he drew the cup away, placing it on the bedside table for later.

“Let’s get these heels off now,” Logan suggested next, descending to his knees and bending his leg to raise your foot on his thigh, messing with the straps tied to your ankles.

“Yes, please. They’re fucking killing me.”

He chuckled as you wiggled your foot at him, allowing his thick fingers to unclasp the buckle that held your heels together. Peeling one of the shoes off and dropping it to the floor, he loosened the other, the heel falling to the ground with an audible thud.

Strong hands held your right foot by the ankle and gently twisted it, stretching the tendon after a long night out and doing the same to the left. You whizzed contently at the touch, the devoted rubs of his thumbs and forefingers massaging your feet after hours of dancing never failed to make you feel better. Before you started dating him, you underestimated Logan’s capacity to be affectionate, but he eventually got the hang of things once your relationship grew more steady. 

Sure, he had been alive a long time, you got that warning from Wade prior to meeting Logan. But once you cracked through that tough exterior, you developed a soft spot for the man buried under all that trauma.

“Always so nice to me yet grumpy with everyone else,” you said, running a hand through his hair as he stayed on his knees.

“You’re saying you don’t like special treatment?” he teased, the look in his eye heating your belly. He caressed your shin, drawing circles over your skin as you watched him.

“Never said that. Like it too much sometimes,” he stood up, kissing the top of your head and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Let’s take those clothes off and get you in something less skimpy.”

“Already? You didn’t tell me anything about my skimpy outfit. Thought you liked it…” you feigned a pout, and Logan raised a curious eyebrow.

“You look good, you always do. I told you that before we left.” He loomed over you, a shiver rushing down your spine when his musk surrounded you. His hands were at either side of your hips, palms resting on the mattress as he observed you.

“I like it when you get all dolled up for me.” One of his knuckles moved to graze your bare forearm, the hair on your skin rising from the goosebumps that followed. “Hate that everyone else gets to look, though.”

“You did good tonight. Didn’t claw anybody in the ribs.” You were only half joking, but you knew it wasn’t such a farfetched idea for him to do just that. All it took was one guy to come too close, and Logan’s knuckles were splitting to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“Trust me, I was thinking it.”

“I know you were. Still happy you didn’t, so thank you for that.” You held his cheek and tenderly kissed him. “Now take my clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Logan tugged your mini skirt down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Your top was next, lifting your arms so he could pull it up from your torso, leaving your top half bare. He leaned back to take you in, raking his eyes over your uncovered figure. You were only clad in the lace black thong he noticed earlier when you were getting dressed, the thin piece of fabric doing nothing to conceal what he knew lay underneath.

“You’re staring again.” Your voice brought him to reality, a dry hum being his response.

“You don’t usually complain when I do,” he noted, growing more cocky at the uptick of the subdued tension between you.

“Because I like it when you look at me, smartass.” You held him by the fabric of the white tee hiding under his jacket, hands roaming over the expanse of his chest and stomach, messing with the metal of his belt buckle.

“Seems like you want something…” Logan hungrily watched as your legs spread wider to accommodate for his thicker ones between them, lingering to pounce on you.

“Want you to fuck me.” A rich groan tumbled out of Logan when you yanked him down for a kiss, chasing his tongue with your own and biting his bottom lip. His large hands skate over your thighs, textured fingers pinching your hip to keep you in place. Pulling his head away, he exhaled out of his nose, lightly grazing the tip of it against yours.

“Not until we shower. You smell like Wade and tequila.” He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, messing with the knobs to get the searing temperature you liked and coming to capture your dumbfounded expression.

“Are you fucking serious?” You shouldn’t be surprised. Though you think he was just finding more ways to get you to sober up.

“Very. I don’t need you smelling like him in bed. I want you to smell like you.”

Rising to your feet, you entered the bathroom and bent down to peel your thong off. Holding the last piece of clothing by the tip of your finger, you flung it to Logan, swaying your hips with an added flare as you stepped under the showerhead. The steaming water hit your aching body, comforting your sore legs from standing on an arch for so long. 

You heard shuffling from the other side of the glass barrier, enjoying the feel of the scalding spray as burly arms encircled your midriff, holding you loosely by the waist. Turning to face Logan, he eyed you with a softness reserved only when you were alone, your love worming its way into his cold heart and chipping away at the frozen bits and pieces over time.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted yet from how hot this water is,” Logan jested, pressing yourself closer and gliding your fingers over his torso.

“You’ll get used to it,” you brushed his comment off, his rough fingertips coasting down your back, much softer than how he handled you in the club. “You’re the one that likes showering with me anyway.”

“Course I do, but I’ll never know how you tolerate this. You sure you aren’t the mutant here?” You lightly slapped his sternum, petting his skin with a shake of your head.

Logan maintained the scorching temperature of the shower stream as he held your chin with his forefinger and thumb, bending forward to kiss you, slow and passionate as it always was. You reached for his broad shoulders, opening your mouth to welcome his tongue, the muscle curling around yours with ease.

Maneuvering to pin you to the tiled wall, your hands ran up to the nape of his neck, driving your fingers through his wet hair as you sought more of his touch. Logan parted from you, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck, biting at the skin. Your breathing grew more sporadic, desire surging through you and flourishing between your thighs.

“Logan, please,” you were already begging for more, and he hadn’t done anything prevalent yet. Even with the alcohol slowly ebbing away, your arousal intensified, and a desperate craving for his attention overwhelmed you.

“What do you need? Tell me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his tongue rolling down to your clavicle, sucking a mark into the side of your neck for you to uncover in the morning.

“Need you to touch me.” Unabashedly, you took one of his hands by the wrist, spreading your thighs to position it where you needed him most. His fingers quickly found your pussy, drenched and crying out for his touch. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers drifted up to your sensitive nub, twitching under the initial rubs he delivered.

“Yeah? Need me to make you feel good, sugar?” Logan’s ego continued to ascend as he observed the expressions on your face, your eyebrows furrowing when his digits plunged into your aching hole.

“Been like this for a while, hm?” The smooth timbre of his voice spurred you on, directing his free hand to hold the bottom of your thigh, raising it to his hip and keeping it in place.

“Since you kissed me in the club.” Your confession fell over his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving crescent indents in their wake. “Wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom.”

A deep moan rumbled in Logan’s chest at your words, crooking his fingers into that spot tucked at the roof of your entrance. You whined loudly at the touch, tossing your head back against the tile behind you and clenching hard around his thick digits.

“Next time. All you gotta do is bring me there, and I’ll fuck you over the sink.”

You couldn’t help but envision what it would be like to follow through on Logan’s proposal. How he’d pursue the imprint of your natural scent, mixing in with the aroma of your perfume that emanated off of you in waves. His lips would make a path over your shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks for the club members to see after he was done with you. His fingers would wrap around your throat as he fucked you against the counter of the bathroom sink, forcing you to look at your reflection as you took him from behind.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks in dark smudges, your lip gloss fading and leaving a ring on the base of his cock from when you sucked him off, his cum dribbling down your thighs while he grabs your torn underwear and stuffs them into his pocket. And once you’ve both had your fun, you’d take his hand and stroll out of the bathroom with a smile, proudly flaunting Logan’s claim for everyone to acknowledge who you belonged to.

He was focused on the dives of his fingers inside your cunt, concentrated pulses to your g-spot and sneakily adding his thumb to the mix to press into your clit. Your half-lidded eyes glanced at him, the tell-tale signs of your upcoming orgasm creeping up and building in your gut. Logan could sense it too, the increase in your heart rate and the pulsing of your walls signaled that you were getting close, desperately seeking that release he could give you.

“I know you’re close.” He picked up the pace of his fingers, punctuating his thrusts to work in a third digit to stretch you out properly, the circles on your bundle of nerves becoming relentless. “Come for me, darlin’. C’mon, let me feel it.”

Trained like a dog to obey his command, your climax hit you with force, the strained rope of tension snapping and shooting relief up your spine. Gripping at the nape of his neck, the moan you emitted resounded through the bathroom as your thighs quivered from Logan’s ministrations. The slick walls of your pussy convulsed around him, giving you a few more pumps with his fingers before he took them out, watching in a daze as he licked them to taste your slick with a satisfied grumble.

“Always taste so damn sweet,” Logan remarked, letting you taste yourself on his tongue with another kiss. The hard length of his cock twitched over your lower belly, the ache of being empty overwhelming your senses.

“You can take a little more right, princess?” It was a genuine question, analyzing your energy levels after a long night out. But you craved to feel Logan the best way you knew how, nodding your head at the thought of feeling him deep inside where he belonged.

“Want you, please,” you implored, large hands grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you from the ground, Logan’s strong hold keeping you upright on the wall. The tip of his cock bumped against your opening, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself.

“Hold on to me.” You did as he said, mewling in pleasure as he sank into your waiting cunt.

You welcomed him without resistance, his legs and forearms flexing to hold you up as he drove his hips forward until he was down to the hilt. A whimper wormed its way out of your mouth once Logan was tucked snug inside you, the tip of him hitting depths only he could reach. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him, legs wound tighter as you adjusted to him.

“That’s it. Exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Logan confirmed with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing you in. He concentrated on the way your wet heat enveloped him so well, pussy molded to take him like that was your purpose.

Leaning more into your embrace, he began to move, shifting his hips to dive into you just the way you liked. Deep and even thrusts sent you reeling into ecstasy, your toes coiling as he persisted in his consistent pistoning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried out at his movements, the upright position Logan had you in propelled the tip of his cock to hit the roof of your entrance with rehearsed accuracy. Your clit came in contact with the hair at the base of his length, the delicious friction adding to the amplified sensations.

“Feel so good. Fucking warm and wet. Shit.” He rambled against your throat, both of his big hands cupping your ass and keeping you secure as he fucked up into you.

Logan used his strength to bounce you on top of him in time with his jabs, heavy balls smacking into you as he picked up the pace and chased his release. You tightened again, nails biting into the taut skin of his shoulders and raking down, drawing a noisy groan out of the man from the pain. His skin reddened with the streaks you left behind, mending together as his regenerative powers healed him in seconds, removing any evidence of your marks.

“Logan, need it, need you. Please.” He understood what you were asking for, the pounding of his hips getting sloppier on your instruction. “Want you to fill me up…”

“Cum again for me and I will. Fill your pussy up the way you need.”

He wasn’t asking. Your deft fingers went up to his hair and gave him a harsh yank, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, meshing your mouth with his. Logan panted a breath and followed with a hiss at the slight ache, the urge to fill you up awakening the most primal parts of him.

Your climax washed over you abruptly, mouth positioned in a silent scream as you unravel underneath Logan. He whispered words of praise in your ear, prolonging your orgasm for as long as he could. Your walls flexed and spasmed around him, soft cries morphing into helpless whimpers with every fierce buck of his wide hips. Molten pleasure surged down his back, and his hands sought purchase on your body, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck,” Logan rasped into your skin, stifling his growl with a sharp bite to your neck. The blunt ends of his teeth dug into you, hard enough to tear at your flesh that bloomed into bright red and will fade to purple.

With a few more lunges, he burrowed himself deep inside, painting your walls with his spend and claiming you like he always has. Your legs tensed around his abdomen, making sure to keep him safely tucked and not let a single drop go to waste. You slumped against him, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder as he littered soft kisses over the marks he left behind in a muted apology. 

“Better now?” he asked, carefully bringing you to stand on the ground, keeping his hold on your hips in case your wobbly legs gave out.

“Mhm. Much better.” You nodded, offering him a kiss and enjoying the aftermath of your respective highs. The carnal appetite you felt earlier dimmed down to manageable levels now that you got what you wanted.

“Good,” Logan reciprocated your delicate kisses, doing what he could to calm and prep you for bed. He knows you could theoretically go for another round, but your exhaustion was palpable. He’d have to make up for it in the morning.

He took your loofah and body wash, pouring the liquid over the net fabric and scrubbing at your figure. He washed you meticulously, rinsing off the suds, and you returned the favor by cleansing him too. Your scents interlaced together as you washed each other, a smile sneaking up on Logan’s face at the realization.

After the shower, Logan did the honors of drying you off, rubbing you down with lotion, and grabbing a baggy dark T-shirt to dress you in. You brushed your teeth as he searched for his sweatpants, alternating between using the sink until you were both ready to end your night.

You eased into the mattress first, tugging the duvet to the side for Logan to follow you and lay on his back. Instinctively, you cuddled into his side once he made room for you, throwing an arm across his chest and lifting your leg to bend comfortably over his thigh.

“You’re gonna make me breakfast, right?” you questioned sleepily over his shoulder, familiar with the post-coitus routine he established in your relationship. In a few hours, you’ll find him making pancakes in the kitchen, or he’ll be under the sheets between your legs again. Either way, it’ll be a good start to your day so long as he’s the first thing you see when the sun beams through the bedroom window.

“I’ll think about it.” Jabbing at his ribs in mock retaliation, you closed your eyes and listened to the distant sounds of the city filling the room, soothing you to sleep.

“Love you, baby. “ You’ll doze off before you hear his reply, nuzzling into his body and chasing the stability and comfort of your personal weighted blanket and heater.

He waited until your breathing evened out and your heart rate leveled, beating on par with his. Giving you a side glance, you were fast asleep, embracing Logan like a teddy bear. Pressing one final kiss to your forehead, he watched you sleep for a while longer, stroking your backbone and holding you close.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

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