#(slightly) disheveled and like something happened to him but he doesn't want to talk about it' type of vibes LMAO

[lususnatura]

[malavera]

The Babysitter, pt. 2 (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: When Logan says he doesn't want you with anyone else, he really doesn't want you to be with anyone else, but him. After a failed attempt to unwrapped yourself around his fingers, you thought the situation would change, but you thought wrong, it's still the same. At night, he'd want you around, but at noon, it would feel like he doesn't know you at all. Too drown in his own work, but what happens when you're off the clock, and Logan catches you on a date with a boy your age?

an: can be read as a standalone!

pairing: origins!logan x female reader

warnings: 18+ Content, MDNI. Set in alternative universe where logan isn't a mutant, angst, no use of y/n, jealous logan, dark logan, naive reader, logan loves to call her with "dollface" legal age gap (logan is around 30 while reader is 22 pursuing a bachelor degree), SMUT; fingering, slight choking, dirty talking, daddykink, foul language

previous part here | logan masterlist here | support me here 🤍

♡ divider creds, cafekitsune

♡ tags: @velvrei @bpmiranda @joelsgoldrush @kholdkill @fictionalmen-dilflover @marellabyr @superhoeva @yawnetu @thefreakcliche @rottenbabyfawn @milesjeon11 @bobateababe @wildlyobsessive @looking1016

The memory was vague in your head, it's like you were already born into this. It's like you're not someone who moved out of her family's home, in search for something promising out there to give food and shelter for the people back home while fighting for a much higher education, a bachelor's degree, in a foreign city. Your parents had sent you off with hopes bundled tightly into the folds of your suitcase—dreams of a bachelor's degree that would one day deliver you into the hands of a secure, well-paying future. They believed in that dream for you, and so you believed in it too. But reality never plays out as neatly as the promises whispered before you left.

You've caught yourself short on money, in a city full of strangers. The part-time jobs are scattered, inconsistent, fleeting. And just when you think the struggle might drown you, there’s a whisper. A friend of a friend of a friend, the kind of connection that feels like it’s made of smoke, tells you about a job. It pays well, they say. But there’s a catch. It always comes with a catch.

The catch is the little boy's 30 something year old father, who's gotten you dazed from the moment he opens the door to greet you and welcomed you inside his humble abode. The whiff of his body odor let alone could send you in a trance. But when the sun shone down, your eyes narrowed to where it's shooting, a flash of his gold wedding ring that's hugging around his ring finger. And of course, he is married.

And it was most likely started around three months ago. Now you're here, still trying to catch your breath as your chest heaves up and down, your back leaning against the wooden door of your apartment. As you brought your head up, you're instantly greeted with a girl that has her hair disheveled, her shirt slightly ruffled, and although she still looks pretty as ever, you always came home frowning.

And you wondered why you frowned, once you unlocked your door, got yourself in, and be greeted by the reflection of your disheveled looking. Weren't you smiling, three months ago since you started? The smile always faded once you stepped foot in the hallway and inching closer to your room at the end of the hall.

A ping from your laptop drew your attention, snapping your head in its direction. Pushing yourself off from the door now, you walked towards your desk and noticed that the sound was to notify a new email just came. It's from a guy you knew, he wasn't a friend, but he wasn't new. He'd asks if you could help him with a subject that he's struggling in and apparently the professor has recommend him to reach for you as you were his star student.

Adjusting your posture before typing your reply, and from that point on, the conversation transitioned to text messages. The two of you agreed to meet at the park after class tomorrow for a study session. It was your day off, so it wouldn’t conflict with your babysitting schedule.

A burst of giggles escaped the little boy’s lips as he chased after the butterfly, his tiny hands reaching for its delicate wings. The old man followed behind with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he watched the boy’s excitement. He kept a slow, steady pace, but when he saw his son suddenly come to a halt, he quickened his steps, ready to ask what had caught the boy’s attention. Before he could speak, the boy eagerly pointed ahead and shouted,

“Papa, look! It’s Missy Sitter!”

His voice was filled with delight as his small finger directed the man’s gaze toward you, seated at a picnic bench with a laptop open, surrounded by scattered books. The man’s eyes followed the boy’s gesture, taking in the sight of your petite frame, your long hair cascading down your back. For a brief moment, he admired the scene—until he noticed you weren’t alone.

You were sitting too close to someone, closer than he liked.

“C’mere, son,” he called, his voice soft yet firm, a subtle tension creeping into his posture.

“Come on, let’s say hello, Papa!” The boy’s voice bubbled with excitement as he broke into a sprint toward you. His eager footsteps caught you off guard, and you quickly stood up, a warm smile spreading across your face as you bent down to wrap him in a hug.

“James…” The old man’s voice followed, rough and low, his son’s name slipping from his throat like gravel. There was a tension in the way he muttered it, though he stood just a few steps behind, watching the two of you with unreadable eyes.

“Mister Howlett,” you greeted nervously, giving him a small nod as Logan approached. “I didn’t know you liked taking James out to this park,” you added, your voice trailing off, unsure of how to continue.

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile at the sound of your soft voice, momentarily pushing aside the simmering annoyance that had clouded his mind. For a moment, he almost forgot what had irked him in the first place. Then again, why was he upset?

Ignoring your comment, he glanced toward the bench where your friend sat, observing the scene with an amused smile, clearly charmed by James. “Who’s your friend?” Logan asked, his voice steady, but his eyes narrowing slightly, betraying a hint of curiosity—or perhaps something more.

“Oh, this is Micah, my friend,” you said as you stepped back, gesturing toward your companion. “I’m helping him study for our major’s subject.”

Micah, ever the gentleman, rose from the bench with a polite smile, extending his hand toward Logan. For a brief moment, Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a hesitation that almost made him dismiss the gesture. But with James watching curiously from beside you, he grudgingly took Micah’s hand, giving it a firm shake. His grip was strong, maybe a touch too strong, as if silently reminding Micah who he was dealing with.

Logan’s lips curved slightly in acknowledgment, though his eyes remained guarded. “Good to meet you,” he muttered, his voice cool and measured. Then, without missing a beat, he shifted his attention back to you and James, his posture still protective, as if assessing the situation.

“So, when are you coming back home?” Logan’s voice cut through the moment, leaving you blinking in confusion. Your eyebrows knit together as you quickly reached into your purse, pulling out your phone. You swiped through your calendar, certain today was your day off.

“Um, but it’s—”

“Yeah,” Logan interrupted, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. “I meant to text you. Got an emergency errand to run. James needed sitting.”

The way he said it was direct, almost too casual for the sudden shift in responsibility, and it left a strange tension in the air. Logan’s gaze never wavered as he spoke, but there was a certain weight to his words, like he expected you to just step in without hesitation.

"Oh, uh— we could wrap this up in maybe 30 minutes, if that’s okay with you, Micah?" you asked, turning to your friend, trying to navigate the sudden shift.

Micah nodded, offering an understanding smile. "Oh yeah, that’d be fine. Actually, I wasn’t planning to stay much longer anyway. There’s a family issue back home I need to take care of. We can always set up another study session later."

Logan’s lips twitched into a subtle, victorious smile at the turn of events, clearly pleased that things were aligning in his favor. But you noticed it—his barely contained satisfaction—and couldn’t help but frown slightly as you glanced at him. There was something in the way he silently claimed this small win that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Great, I’ll see you back home, Doll,” Logan said, his voice casual but laced with something more. The nickname caught you completely off-guard, leaving you momentarily speechless as you watched him reach for James’s small hand.

Your eyes followed them, still processing the unexpected term of endearment. Logan’s smirk didn’t escape your notice, a hint of smugness flashing across his face as he glanced back at you briefly. Then, just as quickly, he looked down at James, his expression softening before they walked away, leaving you standing there, the weight of that single word lingering in the air between you.

The Howlett residence wasn’t far from the park, so after finishing up with Micah, you felt relieved knowing you could make it back easily. Just as you were about to leave, Micah caught you off guard with a question.

“Hey, before you go, how about another study session sometime? And maybe… dinner afterward?” His tone was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness beneath his words.

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. It wasn’t that Micah wasn’t attractive—he was perfectly decent, even charming in his own quiet way. But it wasn’t just about looks. He was the kind of guy who checked all the right boxes: kind, respectful, smart. Maybe too decent, you thought. Yet the surprise wasn’t in him asking, but in him choosing you.

You were always the quiet one in class, keeping to yourself, never standing out or being vocal like some of the other girls. Popularity wasn’t something you chased, and yet, here he was, showing interest. It left you momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond to the idea that someone like Micah would actually want to take you out.

Which you politely accepted, his invitation.

Was the smile on your face too obvious? You hadn’t realized it until you stepped into the Howlett household and heard Logan’s voice cut through the air.

“What’s got you all smiling, Dollface?” he asked, catching you completely off guard. You gasped, stopping dead in your tracks as your eyes found him standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his hands gripping the edges, his gaze steady on you.

You quickly gathered yourself, fixing your composure as you made your way toward him, hugging your laptop bag and books tightly to your chest. "N-nothing, Lo—"

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his head tilting slightly to the side as his eyes bore into you, his expression unreadable. His voice was flat, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn’t buying your excuse.

You frowned, setting your things down on the small dining table across from him, keeping a couple of steps between you, an invisible barrier. His presence was palpable, and you weren’t sure if it was the tension or something else that kept you from moving closer.

“C’mere.” His voice dropped an octave, carrying that quiet intensity that only surfaced when he felt the need to assert control. It wasn’t a request—it never was when he used that tone. He knew how to use it to keep you just within his reach, and somehow, you always felt compelled to follow.

You forced down a swallow before cautiously making your way toward him. The moment you were within reach, Logan’s hand shot out, gripping your hips with an iron-like hold. In one swift motion, he turned you around, pressing you firmly against the counter. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your back met the hard edge, the cool surface biting into your skin. The sudden closeness left you breathless, his presence overwhelming as his body crowded yours, trapping you between him and the counter.

“I want you to stop seeing him,” Logan said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Logan—I can’t. He needs me, and I need the bonus for—”

“What, more money? Doll, I could get you however much you need. Just tell me, and stop seeing him.” He cut you off, and your eyes shot up to glare at him.

“It’s not about the money; it’s for my grades! And not everything is about money, Logan!” you shot back, frustration boiling beneath the surface. You gasped as you feel his hand flew to grab you by the throat, slightly squeezing it.

"Don't ever use that tone with me, Doll. Remember who you belong to." Logan hissed, glaring at you. He thought with him showing authority might bring your anger boil down, be he thought wrong, instead you shot back again.

"Who? You? As far as I know, after I attempted to tap out, you wouldn't let me and you promised me more. But what, Logan? You still treated me like no one during the day, but a whore at your mercy at night?" The end of your empowering statement came out more like a question. In which you continued, "You knew how I felt about you," Emotion welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over like a dam about to break.

Logan's expression softened, his grip on you loosen as he watched your lips tremble. "I only want you, Logan. But you treated me like trash, I—I tried to get out, you wouldn't let me. And now, you finding me out with a boy that didn't mean no harm to me, all of a sudden I'm somewhat precious to you? Too precious to be seen with anyone but you?" Each word felt heavy in the air, laced with frustration and hurt, as you confronted him with the tangled mess of emotions that had been building between you.

Logan sighed, shushing you gently as you began to sob, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. As your body collided with his warmth, a wave of instinctual comfort washed over you, causing your entire demeanor to melt into his arms. The anger that had been simmering within you, ready to boil over, gradually cooled, leaving you feeling vulnerable and frustrated.

You hated this feeling, this surrender. You hated that you couldn’t fight him, that the fierce resolve you’d built up seemed to dissolve the moment he held you close. It was infuriating how easily he could draw you in, making it hard to remember why you were so upset in the first place. The warmth of his body against yours brought a conflicting sense of safety that only deepened your inner turmoil.

“I—I love you… Logan,” you whispered against his chest, the confession escaping your lips like a fragile secret. He shushed you gently, rocking the two of you side to side, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. The weight of your words hung in the air, and you realized what you had just spilled; you had poured your heart out to him, and now you were finally ready to confront the truth.

You didn’t care that he was married, that he had a son. All that mattered was the undeniable pull you felt toward him. You pulled away slightly, searching his eyes as you repeated, “I love you, Logan. I really do. I really, really love you.” The urgency in your voice was palpable, and you needed him to understand the depth of your feelings.

But Logan didn’t say anything in response, and his expression was unreadable. Confusion and uncertainty flickered across his features, making your heart race. Instead of answering, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch both tender and commanding. Then, without warning, he connected his lips to yours.

The kiss was indescribable—electric and intoxicating. It sent a rush through your entire being, leaving you breathless and momentarily lost in the moment. You couldn’t tell if he was kissing you to acknowledge your confession or if he simply wanted to silence you, to avoid confronting the strange reality that a young girl had fallen for his old-married-ass.

In that heartbeat, everything else faded away. The doubts, the complications, and the chaos of your emotions blended into the background, leaving only the taste of him lingering on your lips and the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

"You belong to me," Logan murmured in between the kiss as you softly moan with your eyes closed. His thumb softly caressing your cheeks while both of your lips are fighting in the battle. "No one else, but me," His words sounded like a vow.

His hands found their way to your waist as he lifted you up to set you down on the kitchen counter. Your legs spread open automatically to welcome him in between them before you both proceeded to tangled each other's lips.

You whimpered when his teeth slightly nib on your bottom lip, as Logan smirked before forcing his tongue down your throat. His right hand comfortably wrapped around your throat, the cold sensation of his wedding finger kept you from melting furthermore into his touch. Logan sensed you're not fully enjoying this as he convinced you to fully succumbed to him by wrapping his hand tighter around your throat earning a moan from your lips.

His right hand then slowly unwrapped as it goes down, lingering freely across your body, caressing your chest down to the hem of your sundress. Logan broke the kiss to move down connecting his lips to your neck as you tossed your head back, rolling your eyes shut moaning his name. His left hand placed comfortable behind your back, as his right hand travels down caressing your soft skin of your thighs.

"Please, please, please..." You whimpered, chills ran down your spine when you felt his warm tongue gliding against the skin of your neck.

"Please what, Dollface?"

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you aren't I?" Logan pulls his face away from your neck to fixated his gaze upon your eyes, darkened by needs and raw, aching longing. A smirked appears on his face, "What are you talking about, doll? Aren't I touching you?" Logan teased, as his right hand caress your thigh up and down, his thumb slipping towards your inner thigh, almost reaching your heat.

"Not there." You murmured with your lips trembling, your head feels heavy as Logan kept on teasing you with his touch.

"Where, doll?" Logan scrunched his eyebrows together, pretending to not understand what you're saying as his right hand finally goes to reach your throbbing heat, clothed with your white laced panties. "Here?" Logan inched his face closer to you as he nudged his nose against yours, his hot breath fanned against your lips.

"Use your words, Dollface." He commanded, as you whimpered while you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Yes,"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy." You whispered.

Logan's laugh erupted, cold and mocking, like a predator toying with its prey, "Good girl." And with that, by ease, he ripped your panties off as you automatically leaned back, spreading your legs wider. Logan's hands went underneath both of your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the kitchen counter.

His left hand went to your back, snaking its way up to nestle at your nape to push your body upwards, connecting your forehead against his. "Open up," He demanded, and by default, you opened your mouth to welcome his two fingers inside. Your tongue swirling and coating his fingers with your saliva, a faint, salty tang lingers on your tongue, mixed with the warmth of his skin and Logan watched you being a good girl, sucking on his two digits. He gently pulls away once he's satisfied and went down to reach your heat.

He gently plays with your clit as you tossed your head back, letting out a moan. "Angh..." When his fingers slowly go down to reach your tiny hole. He teased your hole a little, collecting your moist, before pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt. Another loud moan earned from you, as Logan kept pushing his two digits inside.

"This what you want?" Logan mumbled, glancing down to his fingers inside your pussy before glancing back up to watch your face contorted into pleasure. He rolled his fingers slowly, feeling the spongey walls of your cunt against his pad. "I don't think that boy's fingers can get you this desperate, right?" You only moaned out loud for him, opening your eyes watching his sharp ones.

"Come on, Doll. Y'know who you belong to." Logan smirked and with that he started to flick his fingers inside your cunt, increasing his pace.

"Ah, shit! Daddy!" You shrieked, throwing your head back, your hands resting back to support your weight.

"I know, doll. So good, huh?" Logan mumbled, watching his fingers doing his work. "It's just my fingers inside your cunt, you forgot how it feels when it's my cock?" Logan breathed, his heartbeat increasing from excitement watching you vulnerable on his fingers. He started to thrust his fingers in and out of you, without hurting you, whilst flicking here and there.

"Come on, doll. Cum for me," His left hand went to your back, pushing your body upwards with force. "Open your eyes, I wanna see you shatter." Logan growled, connecting his forehead with yours.

You whimpered, tears stream down your cheeks as you slowly opened your eyes. "There we go, come on, baby, cum for me. Cum for daddy, I know you want to."

"D-daddy..." You whimpered and with that, you reached your high, gushing down his fingers while he kept working it inside you, emptying your fluid.

"Thaaaat's ittt... Good girl, good girl, baby." He whispered as he gently pulls out his fingers. You small smiled, your chest heaves up and down trying to catch your breath.

"About what you said before," He started, you forced down your saliva, mentally embracing yourself to receive his answer. Your once calmed heartbeat now raced back. as his mouth went agape to say something, you both jumped in surprised when the front door sounded open and closed.

"Momma's home boys!"

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 5)

Pairing : Boss! Dean Winchester X Assistant! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight violence (a well deserved punch), language, John and Mary Winchester, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Y/n emerged from the women's room and went back to her work space. She knew she looked like a mess even after putting her best efforts to look presentable. With a deep breath she sat back on her desk, thankful Dean was in a meeting. She had zoned out and hadn't realised how much time had passed until a knock on her desk pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a pair of blue eyes staring at her.

"Earth to Y/n." Cas grinned but his grin faltered the minute he saw her eyes, puffy and red, the sight made him furrow his brows.

"Cas! What're you doing here?" She asked happily getting up from her chair and rounding the desk to greet him with a hug. "I thought you were in France." She said wrapping her arms around his torso. The man didn't hesitate to return the embrace.

"I was, but the event wrapped up early so I came back." He replied pulling away slightly so he could look at her better. "What happened?" He questioned. His gaze fell to her hand where he was expecting to see a ring on her finger but the vacant finger confused him even more. Dean had told him over the phone that he'd proposed and you'd said yes. So why on earth is your finger empty and your eyes red.

Dean stepped out of the elevator after he was done with the meeting and he watched Cas and Y/n talking outside his office. He took in her disheveled appearance and his heart clenched in his chest. She looked so small, and broken, all because of him. He'd promised to never hurt her and that's what he ended up doing. He could tell she'd cried, her puffy and red eyes had given that away.

"Y/n? Where's your ring?" Dean heard Cas ask and his gaze fell to her hand, the sight broke his heart. She'd taken it off. "Didn't Dean propose? He said you said yes." Cas prodded further but she didn't say anything until her gaze fell upon Dean approaching them, not necessarily them, but his office. She watched as he moved past them and reached his office door and that's when she spoke.

"Propose? Cas you've known me since college, I've never been the one they proposed to, I'm the one they 'love' and leave." She sneered and Dean's grip tightened onto the doorknob. He hated hearing her talk about herself like that but shes not even giving him a chance to explain. He felt his anger flaring up and he went inside his office slamming the door behind him.

Cas looked between his two friends feeling completely out of the loop but he felt this was bigger than a petty argument and he's never known Y/n to overreact so if something happened it was big. And most probably Dean's fault. All rationality left his brain when he saw his friend hurt and his best friend being the reason of her tears. He went inside Dean's office, where Dean was pacing back and forth. He grabbed the CEO by his arm and punched him straight in the jaw.

"What the fuck, Cas?" Dean growled holding his jaw.

"What did you do?" Cas glared at his best friend.

"Why do you think I did something?" Dean asked feeling offended his best friend was accusing him.

"Your face says it all so spill, or Lord so help me." Cas threatened. He was gonna beat him to a pulp if he didn't come clean right here, right now. Dean knew Cas was a peaceful person and if he's threatening to choose violence, he will resort to it. He's already lost his fiancée, he doesn't want to lose his best friend too. The two men sat on the chairs placed on the either side of Dean’s desk.

"I went to see mom and dad a week ago." He started.

Dean walked into his childhood house, he was greeted by smiling faces of John, Mary and Sam. It brought a smile to his face as well. Dean teased Sam about how Jess’ not here since they’re always attached to the hip. Mary cleared her throat before speaking,

“There’s something I need to tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react so I thought it’d be better if it’s just us.” That made Dean tense up. He didn’t like the way this conversation started.

“Is everything okay?” Dean asked looking back and forth between his parents.

“On the surface yeah.” Mary replied. “Dean you’re thirty. You’re not getting any younger and I want you to settle down.” She said getting straight to the point.

“Okay..” Dean trailed off, this isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He just has to tell them about Y/n and their engagement now.

“And the way you’ve been immersed in work, I don’t see you getting settled anytime soon so we’ve decided to arrange with you someone.” Mary said and Dean’s jaw dropped to the floor. Did his family really think he’s that much of a workaholic that he can’t find a partner for himself? That’s bullshit.

“Excuse me?” Dean growled standing up from his seat.

“She’s the niece of your dad’s old friend. Her name’s Rachel.” Mary said with a finality in her voice.

“Rachel? The one I went to school with? What the fuck is wrong with you all?” Dean yelled.

“She likes you.” Mary added, trying to convince her son.

“I don’t give a fuck. You have no right to meddle in my life.” Dean growled. John who had been quiet all this time finally spoke.

“Dean, don’t talk to your mother like that.” His voice boomed.

“And you’re not hearing what she’s saying?” Dean retorted.

“Dean calm down.” Sam said setting a hand on his brother’s shoulder which the older brother shrugged off.

“Dean this arrangement is for the benefit of the company as well. And your mother wants you to settle down. What’s so wrong in that?” John exclaimed loudly.

“My company is doing great without anyone’s support and what’s wrong with this arrangement is that I have someone in my life and I won’t marry anyone else besides her.” Dean declared.

“Watch your tone, boy. That company is mine, need I remind you I’m still the owner of that company. And you’re the CEO because I made you.” John asserted making Dean scoff.

“You made me CEO because i worked hard for it. You didn’t just give it to me, I earned it.” Dean sneered back at his father.

“The decision has been made. You either marry Rachel or you lose the title of CEO.” John bellowed and the room fell silent. The only sound that could be heard was Dean’s harsh breathing. Without another word Dean left his parent’s house, slamming the door on his way out.

“Dude that’s fucked up.” Cas muttered as Dean finished his story.

“Yeah tell me about it.” Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you tell her?” Castiel asked gesturing outside the door. Dean shook his head staring at the ceiling. “What’re you gonna do now?

“I don’t know, Cas. I love her to death. I don’t want anyone else. But I’ve worked too hard for where I am. It’s so fucking complicated. I don’t even know what to tell her.” He sighed rubbing his face. “How am I going to tell her that I can’t choose between her and my work?”

“You’ve worked hard for this, Dean. Everyone knows that.” Castiel said softly. He felt dejected he couldn’t help his friend. “And I know Y/n. She wouldn’t want you to give it up.” He added.

“That’s also something which scares me. She’d tell me to choose this.” Dean said gesturing to his office. “She’d put me first and I can’t even imagine to bear the look on her face when she does it.” Dean could feel tears springing in his eyes, just at the thought of loosing her for good. “I thought I’d deal with this mess without her knowing about it. But then Rachel showed up.”

“Dean.” Cas said seriously that made Dean look at him. “You have to tell her. She’s falling down in a deep hole of self doubt.” Dean nodded agreeing with Cas. He knows its going to be hard, but he has to go through with it.

Tags:

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@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01 @jackles010378

[kyokutsu-sama]

Hear me out .. Friends with benefits with Kenpachi, Shunsui , Jushrio & Byakuya. 😩 Down bad for all of them & 🥰 Obsessed your writing!

A/n: Hi!! I'm grateful that you like my writings. Here is your request and I hope you like it ❤️

Tw: Nsfw, Suggestive content

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Kenpachi :

I mean, he's the type that if he gets involved with someone, that person will necessarily be his property, especially because the marks he leaves leave no doubt. At first it's a little confusing because he thinks: Who the hell would fuck their best friend and then act completely normal? However, he didn't mind having a slightly more "intimate" friendship with you, something that only the two of you know. Even if it's just a few nights where you and him take a little escape from the world and visit each other's rooms from time to time, there is no fixed love relationship. However, he doesn't stop getting jealous when someone is talking to you or too close, he doesn't admit it but his eyes speak for themselves. You're still his even outside his bedroom. He is the one who takes you to his room several times, not only because you are someone who is very close to him, something that applies to few people, but also because if he is not in a good mood he turns to you to talk about something less pleasant than happened to him. Not only does he like having you lying underneath him, he also likes to rest his head on your chest to get some rest. Okay I definitely want this man now

Shunsui :

It's more common than it seems with this man. Firstly because he is not satisfied with just one woman because he is a pervert and a womanizer and secondly for the same reason as the first. He and you have been friends for some time and this concept came about when he invited you out for a drink one night and things started to get out of control and before you knew it you were already involved with him, more than you had planned but didn't regret it. But who could blame you for that? That man's charm is a danger You two try to appear discreet but everyone in the room already knows what's going on between you two, he doesn't even try to hide it, especially when he has the habit of holding your hand in the middle of the hallway or when he peeks under your skirt. He's the one who usually knocks on your bedroom door on some nights and with a silly smile and winks at you and you realize what he's coming for. He knows that despite everything, you are just two beautiful friends outside of your bedroom *cough* his bedroom *cough* the office *cough* among other places... He's going to have to contain himself a lot of times so he doesn't act stupid and kiss you in front of everyone, in the middle of the street.

Jushiro :

In his case, we can no longer say that it is something common. I don't see him being the type who would want a friend with benefits but it also wouldn't be something he would say no to. He finds it easy to talk to you and be close to you without mentioning this topic, unlike Shunsui who always seems to be trying something. Above all, he is a great friend and respects you a lot. Here you are the one who usually starts things just to see that pretty face change into something a little different from the usual innocent and smiling one. You loved seeing him lose his composure and blush. He won't tell anyone about it, and besides, he can't assume something that doesn't really exist. Just a few nights here and there. He will only do it if you agree. He would really like to have something with you and would be happy if you wanted it too.

Byakuya :

So, he never thought about being in a position like this of having a friend who isn't just a friend. At least he's good at keeping the situation confidential and following the rules, given his serious personality. He's the best at doing it and no one finds out that you two have something, not even Renji who found you in the hallway with your hair disheveled and your clothes a little ill-fitting. Byakuya knows what he's doing. It may not seem like it but he trusts you a lot as a friend and subordinate in his division, even having a certain higher level in relation to the others, something that he tries to control but sometimes it escapes him. In most cases, it's you coming into the office late at night and "giving him a break". He, in turn, only invites you to go to his room to punish you for doing it, even if he loves it but doesn't admit it. There are no bonds and he is good at controlling his emotions, these are just secret nights between both of you, no one needs to know. In my opinion I don't think I would be as good at controlling myself around him as he does.

[lokisremainingsanity]

Moonknight system getting in trouble

content: just scenarios of Steven, Marc, and Jake with their girlfriend, a boss woman who loves them very much, slight angst with comfort, and drinking

~ava!🍓

I like to imagine the moonboys being with their lover, who's extremely mother-like. She's always taking care of them, worrying about them, defending them, and overall just as protective as a lioness over her cubs. Whenever one of them causes trouble though, she'll appropriately punish them. The days that "Ms Grant" is mad (at Steven) she'll go easy on him because he's too soft for her to scold harshly.

"Steven, this is the third time you've forgotten your lunch at home."

You stood there in your suit with your hand on your hip, looking at him sternly as you held his fully packed lunchbox you made him this morning in the other hand.

Steven was surprised you actually came to drop it off right at his cubical in the break room, since you had a booked day of meetings today. He felt terrible, that he was probably taking up your only break of the day.

"I- I'm so sorry, lovie-" He walked to you shamefully as he tried to apologize.

"That's the same thing you said last time, and the time before it. I did not come all the way through busy Piccadilly street here for an apology." You still were talking in your work voice, the business woman voice that showed you meant business. Steven's hot face reddened and his knees almost buckled from your authoritative voice.

"I..um.. I-" He started stammering under your gaze, and you came closer to him and held his face. He still looked down at the floor in shame, until you told him "Steven, look at me.". He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes.

"I came here for a promise from you. I am only upset because I care about you, you know that right? I don't want my baby skipping his lunch especially if I made it. This is so you learn next time not to do it again, okay honey? Promise me that. " You baby-talked him and looked at him with only a mother's care in your eyes.

"y-yes. I understand lovie. I won't do it again. I promise."

And that's how Steven got off with Ms. Grant's wrath easily. Marc on the other hand...

He came back from his nightly routine of serving the Egyptian Moon God to an empty apartment. He saw things.. that triggered unwanted memories. Of course, instead of waiting for you to come back and help him, he decides to indulge in old coping habits: Drinking.

So that's how you came home from a busy day at work to an immensely drunken Marc Spector. He lays on your couch with an almost full alcohol bottle, with plenty of empty ones at his feet. He's slouched and just as he tips his head back to take another sip the bottle is swiped away from him.

"Marc! What is this?!" you hiss lowly at him as you point to the trashed floor with the bottle.

He doesn't even say anything, he just looks at you with hooded eyes.

"Just stay where you are."

You go put the bottle away in the kitchen and return with a breathalyzer. Standing in front of him with it, you gently take his chin, "Open." and he does just as you say. As you wait for the number to pop up, you take notice of his disheveled appearance, messy hair, and bloodshot eyes. Something bad must have happened for him to relapse this bad.

0 . 1 6 m g / L

The breathalyzer reads.

"Holy shit, Marc.", he has you worried. Urgently, you get the biggest glass of water for Marc. He tried to refuse, his head moving away, but you wouldn't budge your hand on his chin. Even in his drunken state, he understood you were serious. After he drank enough, you helped him to the bed, much more comfortable than the couch.

You lay with him and brushed his hair, trying to comfort him as he stared blankly at the wall. Eventually, he finally shut his eyes and you followed right after.

The next morning, it was Marc who woke up first. His raging headache wouldn't let him get any more sleep. He raised his head slowly and with squinting eyes he surveyed the room. Then he saw you, right under him, sleeping in your suit.

Shit

He felt even more horrible, as if the pulsing headache moved to his chest. He must've kept you occupied the second you came back. You didn't deserve that. Suddenly tears started to form in his eyes just as they did the night before. He felt useless.

At the first sniffle you hear, you instantly wake up. Marc is sitting slouched on the side of the bed with his hands on his face.

"Marc, habibi.." you get up to put your hand on his back.

"Are you okay? What happened? Do you need asprin? Let me get you some pain reliever-"

"No" his voice is rough and scratchy from crying.

You stop and look at him blankly.

"No?"

"I'm sorry, I don't want to burden you like this. I've done enough. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Marc"

You wrap your arms around him and he leans into you.

"You're not a burden to me Habibi. Don't ever think that. What you did yesterday, it wasn't right. You were doing so good without the alcohol."

You brushed his hair out of his face and gazed into his sad eyes. "I'm here for you. Anytime you feel bad about something, just tell me. Wait for me and I'll be with you and we can figure it out together okay?"

He sniffles and nods his head slightly. "Good, now I'm going to get you some painkillers. We're throwing away all the alcohol in this household." (household.. or mansionhold?)

No drinks are allowed to go through your doors for the next year, and you make Marc take consistent therapy sessions again to help with his troubles. It doesn't sound like a punishment, at least to you. It's just a necessary measure to monitor your love's health. Marc though, thinks it's completely unnecessary. But can he go against your word? No, the answer is no.

Compared to "Ms. Grant" and "Ms. Spector", "Ms. Lockely" is the harshest. And for good reason too.

Jake is the most stubborn of the three. You love him very much, but sometimes, he's really a jackass. Pardon the language. He can be a sweetheart when he wants to be, or an exhaustion when you need to put him in his place.

This whole week has been a mess, with delayed meetings that messed up your entire schedule, and employees getting sick with the flu season so you're understaffed. You finally come home early on Friday, and you're hoping for some massage(or head), from Steven probably. Except when you do get through the front door, you're met with a mess on the floors. Mud footprints on the floor. Shoes that are thrown instead of on the rack.

What the hell?

You feel the irritation from the morning rise up again. You walk further in and collapse your sore body onto the couch. Cracking your neck, you move your head in a few circles. Then you open your eyes and catch something. Dark little circles on the armrest. With a closer look, you realize they're cigarette marks.

Throwing the shoes around?

Smoking inside?

BURNING YOUR COUCH?

Someone might get butchered tonight.

"Hola bebita!" Jake strolls into the living room and leans over to kiss you. That's when you get a whiff of that distinct cigar smell. You lean back to miss his lips.

"Jake?"

"Yes, amor?" He asks confused.

"Did you smoke under my roof?"

...

Silence ensues.

"Ah but amor the smell is not here anymore-"

"Forget the smell, Lockely. You burned my couch." Your voice may have been eerily even, but your eyes showed how much rage you had.

"It's oka-"

"Lockely, you RUINED my house with mud and cigarette marks! YOU THINK I WANTED TO COME HOME TO ORGANIZE THE TRASHED FLOOR-"

"But eh.. the cleaning is a woman's job anyway, no?" he tried to jest in the middle of your rant.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Misogyny is absolutely not tolerated under Ms. Lockely's roof.

So guess who had to sleep on the couch that night.

Guess whose limo got towed off your property that night?

Guess whose bank account got frozen so they couldn't pay the fee to get their limo back?

Guess who had to help cook and clean in the female-led kitchen the next time you organized a gala?

That's right.

Jake Lockely did.

And he never dared utter such words again. And you were proud your punishment set him straight. Did you regret it? No. Would you do it again if you had to? Definitely.

And that's how the Moonboy's girlfriend mothered them all.

[iheartjohnlennon]

PLEASEE DO A NSFW ALPHABET OMG THE WAY YOU WRITE THE BEATLES IS MY FAV😭😭

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - John

@heiterhund <<<<<<<<<<<< CO-WRITOR TO THIS, WOULD NOT HAVE DONE ANYTHING WITHOUT HER, BEST BEATLES WRITER (OTHER THAN ME) 😍🩷🎀

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...)

• John is an absolute sweetheart.

• After sex he's all quiet, attentive and mellow. He talks to you without really talking to you. 

• He comes down hard from his orgasms, feeling as though you and him are the only ones on planet earth.

• He's definitely a cuddler too - big spoon.

John turned to you, his hair dishevelled, his face flushed. You were the same, though you looked a lot more messy. 

His cock was still slightly hard and in his fist, but he wanted to rest.

"You okay?" He breathed. 

"Yeah," you smiled.

John slowly shifted around to hold you in his arms. His chest warm against your back. Naked and satisfied.

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours)

• John loves your legs and your hips and your feet. Every inch, from your hips to your soles. 

• He loves them because he likes interacting with them in various scenarios.

• When he's holding your hips to fuck into you as you ride him...when he lifts you by your legs...when you playfully wrap around each other...when he kisses and licks your toes...

• Yes, your legs are very versatile for him.

C is for Cum (Where and why he likes to cum) 

• Facials are most definitely his go to.

• John loves cumming on your face more than anything, it's degrading yet loving.

• He loves how he can see your eyes looking right at him as he does so.

He usually slaps the tip against your cheek, grinning as he sees his semen dripping to your lips and chin. If he’s feeling caring, he’ll use his thumb to wipe it off, before pressing it to your lips.

How sweet.

D is for Dirty secret (Something filthy that he did/or does/or wants to do behind your back.)

• John takes pictures of you, explicit ones.

• Sometimes he's fooling around. You're both out of it. But you're so out of it you forget he takes them. He doesn't forget though.

• Sometimes he takes them secretly, through a slightly open door as you undress…

• He's your own personal voyeur. You never even notice. 

• He keeps the pictures safe, admires them every so often and rubs himself off to them like the man that he is. It's his collection of sorts. 

• John thinks you're absolutely gorgeous, you are gorgeous. He imagines you being on the cover of Playboy or something, but his jealousy and possessiveness would never allow you to be seen by masses of men.

John turned away to retrieve his camera from the bedside table.

"Let's capture this moment, love," he whispered, his lips grazing against yours. 

Your vision was hazy.

"Oh, that's a bit filthy isn't it, John?" You said, sighing. 

John smirked, the corners of his mouth quivering. He liked you like this. 

"Filthy? Well, that's the whole idea." He whispered, sitting up. 

He pulled your bra down further, your nipples were perfectly exposed now, he laid quick kisses against them. 

You were an absolute vision to him.

Laying on his silk hotel sheets, drinking, smoking and eating yourself blind - all simultaneously.

And he was definitely ready to have you afterwards. 

Your laughter bubbled over as you teased, "I hope you're not planning to sell these to the papers."

He chuckled nervously, he had thought about it before - just a little fantasy.

The camera clicked in one hand, his cock was being rubbed through his boxers in the other. 

"No," he breathed, palming himself harder.

"This is just for our little memory vault. These photos are like all our other photos, right?"

John massaged his balls, eager to cum.

"You're the star here." He groaned. 

You giggled.

"Me, a star? Oh, stop it, you're making me blush."

John grinned, adjusting the camera.

"Blush harder. Now, can you slip out of your skirt for me, lovely?"

You did so, and slowly. It slipped off your hips nicely, leaving your bottom half only in your knickers. 

"You're so demanding, Johnny."

With a sly wink, John retorted, "Demanding? Maybe a bit. But you can handle it, can't you, hm?"

And so the camera clicked, again.

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?) 

• John lost his virginity to some whore in Liverpool well before he was eighteen. So he lost it well before he legally even could. 

• He knows enough, he knows a lot in fact, way more than you do definitely.

• He knows enough to please you more than you can please him.

• He loves teasing you about it, saying how much of a square you used to be.

• Something about your lack of experience is hot, especially because it makes him feel in control. 

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you.)

• John loves cowgirl. 

• He loves when you ride him, your hands flat on his chest.

• The sight of you on top of him just really does it for him. His hands get to roam every where.

• And though it seems like you're in control, he'll often grab your hips and thrust himself up and down, fucking into you. 

• If he's feeling energetic, sometimes he'll flip you onto your back so he can finish in missionary. His head deep in the crook of your neck as he gets closer.

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?) 

• John likes making jokes here and there. He's funny, even in something as serious as sex.

• You'll moan "Yess" and he'll moan "Yess" right back - mocking you.

John will ask "Just like that?" when he knows he's really hitting the spot. He'll ask you questions he knows you can barely answer as your being fucked.

And when you moan something that isn't his name like, "Oh, God." He'll reply, "My name's John, thanks."

He's just a goofy guy. 

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex.) 

• John's goal is to have you in as many places as possible, places within reason of course. 

• He'll challenge you as well, whispering into your ear, "Do you think we could fuck here without being heard?" or "You'd look so pretty bent over that, y'know."

• He's had you in the classic places, like a car, a broom closet - but that just isn't enough for him.

• John won't stop until he makes you cum in as many places as possible.

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• John doesn't particularly care for grooming and he can't be bothered to regularly trim, shave or whatever.

• If he ever does do anything to his pubes, just know he was definitely fucking bored. 

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• John just isn't the type for candles or music or rose petals. He just wants to get right to it. 

• Though, if it's a special occasion like Valentine's day or your birthday or something, he'll put in the effort to serenade you and fuck you on a bed of roses.

• Though he may say some things that are sweet and fluffy, the only thing he needs to show you is his cock, that's his romantic gesture. 

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon) 

• John occasionally rubs himself off when he doesn't have access to a cunt.

• He thinks of you deeply whenever he does so, cumming hard all over his fist. 

• It’s annoying to do, because nothing feels better than your vagina- but if he uses his imagination ( or those dirty photos he’s taken ) jacking off is the best feeling ever.

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you) 

• John has a moderate pain kink and he's definitely the sadist in most situations, the giver.

• If you ask him to hit you (erotically) he'll do it, hesitantly but happily.

• John has a mommy kink (duh).

• He'll suck your tits and get you to cradle his head whilst he does so. Sometimes he calls you the m-word...mother.

• John has feet kink...

• He likes when you paint your toe nails nice colours. He's like massaging your feet. He's taken your toes into his mouth a lot of times.

L is for Location (Favourite places to do the deed) 

• John loves obscure and semi-public places way more than a mere bed. 

• So places like broom closets, a car, a park - all that jazz.

• He enjoys the risk and the fun involved in those places. 

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..) 

• Your voice turns him on the most, before and during sex. Especially when he knows you want it bad.

• Your little moans before your orgasm, those get him there. 

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..) 

• When you argue earlier in the day, like a proper bad argument, that turns him off for the rest of the day.

• When you can't resolve your issues he doesn't even look at you. He feels detached from you almost.

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?) 

• John 100% prefers both, he just can't choose between the two. Both bring him immense joy and pleasure.

• He eats you out nicely, enthusiastically. He usually doesn't make you orgasm with just that, it's just a fun, little extra to him.

• Prepare to have your mouth absolutely run through when you're sucking John's cock. No part of his cock is left unlicked or unsucked or untouched by you.

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual?) 

• His pace is gradual and building.

• He starts slow, then gets faster when he's about to make the both of you cum.

• John leaves being rough for when he's hate or jealous fucking you.

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• He's not opposed to them, he quite enjoys them actually, but of course he'd prefer having you all by himself with all the time in the world. 

• They happen when you're both drunk or high, it's a moment of irresponsibility. 

• Or they happen when you both haven't seen each other in a while and you just can't wait.

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take)

• He'll take public risks, so sex in public. He finds it thrilling, you know, the thought of getting heard and caught. 

• He gets off on someone hearing, someone being a voyeur. 

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• John can last one round but it's a nice length, 20 minutes minimum. 

• He doesn't cum too quick, well, depending on the situation, if he has to cum quick he will, so if you're having a quickie.

• But yeah, he doesn't cum too quickly, so expect that twenty minutes of that cock.

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?) 

• John personally doesn't own toys because he wouldn't be able to get over the embarrassment of buying and owning them.

• He does try to coax you into buying them for yourself though, he would like watching you use them on yourself.

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..) 

• John isn't that unfair. He's not the type to edge you or delay orgasm. 

• Verbal teasing 100% though. 

• And he teases you before he fucks you anyways. So by kissing and rubbing you in areas that make you want more...neck...clit.

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..) 

• John groans like a wild animal, he's talkative as well, loves making little comments before and during and after. 

• People can definitely hear him through the walls.

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon) 

• Lennon loves a good roleplay situation - anything sexy. Nurse and patient, teacher and student, etc…

• He has such a big ego, so he particularly likes when you pretend to be some beatlemaniac.

• Yeah, he always cums so fucking hard during your little role plays.

“Oh my GOD! IS THAT JOHN LENNON?”

You screeched, feet stomping in place as you jump and giggle like a virgin schoolgirl.

John can’t help but look annoyed, his brows lowering as he quickly looks around. 

You just blew his fucking cover with your high pitched squeals and your bouncing up and down.

Oh, how he hated these types of fans.

“Yes! Yes! It is, oh my GOD.” 

You all but scream, throwing yourself on the man.

He doesn’t stifle the annoyed groan that leaves his mouth, sounding like some primal snarl deep in his throat. 

“If I fuck you in the bathroom will you leave me alone and stay quiet?”

X is for X-ray (His cock) 

• A bit above average, so...6 inches and he's not circumcised and his balls are massive.

• He has a good girth as well. John's penis is quite proportionate!! 

• He has a bush because he very rarely shaves or cuts.

 

Uuuuuurgghhh, I want him and his cock so horrendously. 

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?) 

• He wants you whenever you're both most available, both physically and emotionally. 

• John most definitely has a high libido. Sex and you occupy his mind at the same time, everywhere.

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• John doesn't get excessively tired but he does feel it. 

• His after sex sleep depends on you. If you're sleepy, he'll settle and sleep, if you want to stay up, then he's good with that as well.

OTHER BEATLES ALPHABETS COMING SOON XOXO

PAUL

GEORGE

RINGO

[peachm1lkk]

Blowing off some steam

Synopsis - After the last reset, Jude has some time alone to go over what had happened... His mind goes on to wonder about a specific hitman.

CW — Very vanilla nothing too extreme, unhealthy coping mechanism, Masturbation used as a coping mechanism, Readers past deaths are referenced throughout fic, Character analysis(?), Self loathing, little dialogue, bitter ending, unrequited lust, Smut with minimal plot, potentially OOC behavior

Pairing(s) — Jude (Solo) / Jude x Sean

AN — Cross posted on Ao3 // Actually struggled with this a lot, mostly due to Jude being a crybaby bitch fag who's too concerned with BFF being dead on the floor to care about smooching...

By the morning, when Jude is back in bed, when he knows if he were to turn his head to the side slightly he'd see a notification from you— He feels a little sick. Memories that had technically never happened in the first place were all still raw in his mind, his stomach churning with the knowledge that your blood was now on his hands.

God, he can still feel the weight of the gun in his hand, how shaky his hands were as he tentatively lifted the gun to you. He can still hear how your soft sobbing, a noise he wishes he never has to hear again, ended so abruptly with the simple pull of the trigger, the silence after deafening.

He can still see his fucking face.

Jude sits up abruptly, his heart pounding as he grapples with the memories that claw at him from the shadows of his mind. The sunlight pouring through the curtained window feels abrasive, too bright for the darkness that clings to his thoughts. He can’t let this happen again; he won’t let it. He has to find a way to break this torturous cycle. His phone buzzes on the nightstand, and he almost ignores it, a part of him wanting to drown in despair. But what choice does he have? Every second counts after all.

With trembling fingers, he picks it up and glances at the notification- Reading over your message with a vague sense of impending dread.

‘Hope you got home safe, I'm with Delilah rn so I won't be able to talk much’

He doesn't know why he expected something new, he's seen this same message a thousand times before. And he'll respond the same way he always has, the same way he's figured would keep you alive, breathing, and happy.

He frowns inwardly, but after a brief moment of thought he finally responds

‘Yeah, I’m good. Just tired. There's been some crazy traffic recently so I think you should just spend the night

His thumb hovers over the send button, a dark fear creeping in that this, too, could seal your fate. But he presses it anyway, the familiar rush of regret washing over him like ice water. He only sets his phone down once you react to his message with a thumbs up.

Jude swings his legs over the side of the bed, willing himself to move, to act. He paces the small room, each footfall echoing in the silence. He stares absentmindedly at his disheveled appearance, attempting to brush his hair into something more appealing before giving up on it altogether.

Killing you didn't provide as much relief as he thought it would then. Though he doesn't remember what happens after your death, seeing as he was barely confident in the idea that he kept the timeline open longer than he usually does. He remembers little things, though, little insignificant details like the stomach-churning smile on Sean's face and how overwhelmingly warm his hands felt despite being wrapped around the cooled metal of the pistol.

But the important details and memories of what had happened after your death were left fuzzy and muddled. Scarring his psyche with only the disgusting feeling of hopelessness that clung to him like a second skin. Jude’s hands trembled as he fought with his clothes, hurriedly tugging them off and tossing them to the side, trying to shake the suffocating weight of despair off his shoulders. He had to think of something—anything—that could break this maddening loop.

Why on earth would anyone want you dead? You hadn't mentioned the Morel brothers, and he knows the chance of you and anyone of them crossing paths was low enough that the possibility could be dismissed easily enough. And as far as he knew, you didn't seem to have a particular contempt towards anyone and vice versa.

So why place a hit on you?

He doesn't realize he's in the shower till the cold water hits him, a little yelp spilling from him as he pulls away reflexively. The shock of the cold jolts him into clarity as the water cascades over him, quick to transition into a welcoming warmth as time goes on. Jude lets the water wash over him, the steam enveloping him like a shroud. It feels good—soothing and almost nurturing in how it makes him relax. Each droplet carries away the remnants of yesterday's despair, though he knew that in the end, they'll still remain on the back burner of his mind.

You really were some type of plague to those around you…

His thoughts, though vaguely on you, began to wander. He didn't want to pull it back to you, to not have you on his mind for even just five seconds would be a welcomed peace. He doesn't know if he prefers obsessing over you to thinking about Sean. He doesn't know why he lets his mind wander to thoughts about him of all people, nor does he know why he didn't put a stop to it when his mind decided to think of him in a much more… intimate manner. At least more intimate than he probably should be comfortable with.

Jude grips the tiled wall, feeling the slick surface under his fingers as he fights against the chaos in his mind. Images of Sean flicker like a broken film reel, each frame more vivid than the last—the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his smirk could twist into something both inviting and sinister. Jude curses softly under his breath, brows furrowing at the memory of Sean's praise when he'd coerced Jude to shoot you.

Jude grits his teeth, the warmth of the water suddenly feeling suffocating. Why is he thinking about that? Why is he even thinking of the way Sean practically purred when calling him a ‘Good boy’? The memory was as sickening as it was intoxicating. If only he could remove the context, then maybe he wouldn't feel so guilty about the heat slowly pooling in his core—a tension that had no right to exist in relation to a monster like Sean, let alone the act he’d committed.

The self-loathing isn't enough to dissuade the rising tide of desire that swirled within him. It felt like a betrayal, a revolting, horrid betrayal of his own character, a betrayal of the torture the two of you have been subjected to for what was probably decades. And here he is, hesitatingly nursing his hardening erection, thinking about Sean, of all people.

He wasn't attracted to Sean, well, at least not romantically, and who would be? But the allure, the idea of just a moment of release was tempting in a way that felt foreign and wrong. He could almost laugh, first thing he does when he resets is get hard at the idea of fucking your hitman. With tender hands he slowly caressed his skin, finding it slick and warm under the cascading water.

He wonders if his hands would be rougher, calloused from years of taking lives rather than nurturing them. Jude's breath quickened, a mix of exhilaration and dread flooding his veins. Would Sean’s hands be as unforgiving on him as they were on those he hunted?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, not all of it unwelcome. He turned the water temperature up, letting the heat seep into his bones, a poor attempt to burn away the guilt that clung to his skin. With every passing second, he felt himself teetering on the precipice of something reckless, something that could tip him sideways into a place he feared to explore.

But there was a part of him that craved the chaos—the danger. Perhaps it was simply the thrill of believing that if he gave in to those dark urges, even just once, it might somehow free him from this endless cycle of torment. He could almost imagine it: Sean pulling him close, breath hot against his ear, whispering promises that hinted at both pleasure and pain.

Jude’s breath hitched at the thought, a visceral pull drawing him deeper into that fantasy. He imagined the way Sean’s lips would graze against his neck, hot and warm against sensitive skin, as if claiming territory in this twisted landscape of betrayal and desire. He pressed his forehead against the cool tiles, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

He can feel his breathing becoming deeper and heavier with need as his hand slowly moves along his shaft, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He can't believe he's doing this, but any rational slips as he forces himself to just think of it as a needed stress relief.

Albeit hesitantly, he slowly increases his pace, the sensation building with each deliberate stroke, the warmth of the water mixing with the heat radiating from his skin. Jude's mind races, spiraling deeper into that dangerous fantasy, his thoughts swirling around Sean's presence— The hitman looming over him, dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, their breaths mingling in an electrifying moment that coursed through Jude like wildfire. He could almost feel Sean’s weight pressing down on him, pinning him against the slick tiles, a predator delighting in the hunt.

Every thrust of his hand felt like a desperate grasp at freedom—freedom from guilt, from despair, from the haunting memories that threatened to drown him. With each rising wave of pleasure, he exhaled the remnants of your blood staining his conscience, if only for a fleeting instant.

The fantasy grew more vivid, more consuming—Sean pinning him against the wall, their bodies pressed close together as the world faded to nothing but them. Jude’s heart raced; he could almost feel those rough hands gripping him, holding flesh against flesh, slick sounds escaping from where their bodies met. He can't help but stifle a whimper at the thought, his hips thrusting into his fist with a stutter.

A part of him wondered how he'd act, if he was as slow and meticulous with it, pressing warm kisses and bites across his pale skin whilst palming his erection, teasing him for getting hard for the same man that killed his friend not too long ago. Or perhaps he was rough, gripping him by the throat, forcing him to meet those dark, smoldering eyes as Sean whispered obscenities that twisted pleasure and pain into a single, intoxicating thread.

His breath hitched as he imagined the weight of Sean’s body on him, the heat radiating from their skin seeping into one another's bodies.

He could almost feel Sean’s breath against his ear, teasingly low, promising both ecstasy and betrayal in equal measure. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pictured Sean's lips curling into a sadistic smile, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re just so unbelievably easy to break…” Jude's heart raced at the thought, a shaky moan leaving his lips.

“Easy to break,” Jude whispered to nobody in particular, choking slightly on the words as they slipped past his lips.

The heat coalescing in his core grew unbearable, and he quickened his pace, desperate for release while desperately wrestling with the shame that clung to him like a shroud. How could he crave someone who had taken so much from him? It was madness—sheer madness—but it felt like salvation wrapped in the guise of sin.

Each stroke turned frantic, a wild race against time as he chased that fleeting moment of bliss. Jude's body responded eagerly, each ripple of his pleasure resonating with the chaos in his mind. Sean’s face painted vividly in his imagination, taunting him with an allure he couldn’t resist.

���Come on, Jude,” Sean would say, that wicked grin lurking at the corners of his mouth, “You know you want to.”

The forbidden nature of it all only heightened his arousal—this was wrong on every conceivable level. Yet, here he was, locked in this bathroom, chasing a release that felt like a confession and an act of rebellion all at once.

With every thrust into the warmth of his palm, he imagined Sean’s hands gripping his hips instead, telling him such sweet praises of how good he was and how badly he must've needed this. The shame twisted deeper, but so did the pleasure, and Jude was left teetering on the brink between desire and revulsion.

“Good boy,” Sean would whisper, his voice like velvet against Jude’s skin, pulling him further down into a haze of need and desperation. Those words echoed in his mind, a cruel mockery of everything he fought against—of everything he wanted to deny.

With a final thrust of his hand, Jude felt himself reaching that precipice, spiraling into the abyss of ecstasy. He bit his lip to stifle a cry, the sound muffled against the bathroom tiles as bliss washed over him like the torrent of water cascading down his body. For a fleeting moment, everything blurred—the guilt, the memories, even your face faded into the background noise of pleasure.

But as he came crashing back down from that high, reality settled in like a thick fog pressing against his chest. The weight of regret came flooding back as the last remnants of pleasure ebbed away, leaving behind the bitter aftertaste of shame. Jude leaned heavily against the wall, breathless and disoriented. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling as though he'd just betrayed everything he stood for—the very essence of his being now tainted by a twisted fantasy about Sean.

It wasn't his fault, a part of him stated, for what was probably decades, he'd been stuck in a horrible time loop of watching you die. And somehow, he was expected to uphold his morals and principles perfectly? That he was expected to keep his already fragile mental health together without moments of solace? The irony twisted within him like a knife.

The defense, though weak, was enough to provide some level of comfort for what he's done. With a shaky hand, he turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping himself in a towel that somehow felt inadequate.

“You’re losing it, Jude.”

[wheres-my-pencil]

(read more for a short pseudo-fic?? that i wrote kinda by accident?? it's kinda shit and doesn't have anything about stanley and it's mostly just describing a half baked idea but have it if you want. also this has definitely been done before but whatever)

au where the narrator, unbeknownst to stanley, finds out that he can be physically affectionate in a form that stanley can't see or feel.

after countless careful testing of stanley's reactions to confirm this, he starts to casually sort of. walk side by side to him and brush their hands together.

after a few hundred resets, he's at a point where he constantly holds hands (phases them through each other) with stanley as he yammers on as usual. sometimes he floats around him in circles and studies the folds in his clothes and the way stanley moves, still blabbering about, until, carefully, he leans reeeal close to stanley's face. he takes in every wrinkle and dimple, every reflection across his eyes, and watches the way his character model's hair sways a little as he walks, still pretending to have some sort of strong opinion about whatever he's talking about. once again, he starts to do this regularly.

when stanley happens to look at something that lines up their eyes to seem like eye contact, the narrator gets all freaked out and goes strangely quiet. he makes up some excuse (let's see here.. the next door is .. hmm .. .. (the first time it happened he actually did get them both lost)), and the next few times it happens, he starts rambling faster, trips over his words, and flusters himself in his own monologue.

after another few hundred resets he calms down and gets used to the fake-outs and gradually forgets it was ever even a worry.

during one reset in this peaceful phase, the narrator hugs him from behind, wraps his arms over his shoulders and around his chest, and sighs somewhat like a dog as he rests the underside of his chin on stanley's shoulder.

of course, sighs of yearning and disappointment sound similar enough that this one fit nicely for his current monologue. in fact, he starts getting so caught up with sarcastically praising stanley for staying in the employee lounge for more than two whole minutes, that as he leans into his face, yawning mid-sentence from the pseudo-warmth of stanley's neck and left cheek, he doesn't even notice that stanley has not only stayed in the same room, but hasn't moved an inch for the past five minutes.

worse yet, the narrator only finally realized when he happened to look up admiringly again, and nearly flew across the room at the sheer intensity of stanley's eyes staring dead into his own. he paused his berating. he didn't even have an excuse prepared, and he wouldn't need one, considering how stanley's first movement after the narrator's nearly endless stream of complaining was to turn to look at him where he hovered slightly above the floor, somewhat disheveled and panicked.

that's all i got for now fhdwds

[nevalizona]

A John and Connor fragment.

Slightly suggestive.

Please pardon any errors.

There are so many things you think about saying. You chew on your lip instead. You have to think so hard about what it is you want to say. He'll tear you apart the second he finds something weak to poke and prod at. A cigarette burned between your fingers. It was his, and now it's yours. Both of you are sweaty. The room is stuffy and humid. You put the cigarette out so you don't get burned twice.

You sit up now. You need to be heard.

“You can stay. You don't have to go.” You say this and regret it. Didn't think hard enough about what you wanted to say, and you wish you kept the cigarette lit.

“I don't have to do anything.” He's sharp. You didn’t want sharp. You curse at yourself and chew on your cheeks so hard you can taste blood.

“I know,’ your head is buzzing because you need him to not be upset with you. Is this desperation? It felt pathetic. ‘I'm just trying to tell you, you can stay. No need to rush.” You wish you could kick yourself. This desperate attempt at keeping him around because you don't want to be alone again is pitiful. It's just- he's the only man that will touch you. The only man that makes your heart race like this. He knows that he was the first man who ever touched you. The first man to lay his charm on you, so thick it was suffocating. He knows what he does to you. He enjoys it. Twisting your insides around, making you beg. For a split moment, you feel clarity. You think about his wife back at home. She’s felt this way before. Desperately trying to get him to stay. See her. Choose her over everything else that's going on with him.

Selfishly, this realization makes you warm. It makes your head spin. You're similar to her. Maybe not in the loving way. He doesn't love you, you know this. But you're fine being similar in the other way.

Another part of you is screaming at you that this is pathetic. This is pointless. Another man will look at you tenderly. Another man will want to touch your body, and his affection will not be conditional. Another man will see you as worthy. You won't be beneath him. He won't toy with you, knowing he can get away with it. You know this. You can feel it every time he jerks you around like the fool you are when he's present. You hate yourself when he leaves because you're a fucking idiot who just wants to be loved.

This clarity makes you see him in a different light. He's yanking his clothes back on. Rough. Always so damn rough. Everything about him is sharp. He doesn't have a delicate bone in his body. You want to hate him for manhandling you, even if it makes your head spin in the moment. You want to tell him you're worth more than he gives you credit for. This clarity happens on occasion. Your self-loathing dissipates, and you want to be the one to leave first. You want to grab your things and pull your clothes on like this was a waste of your time. You want to barely look at him as you tell him you'll see him later, leaving him there longing for more. You're tired of being played with like a fucking toy. You ball your hands into fists. You're telling yourself to stand up! Leave!

But then it happens, he shoots you a smile, and everything melts away at once. You melt into the cot, and you'd stay right here if you told you to. He runs his fingers through his hair to try to fix it a bit, so he doesn't look so disheveled.

“This was fun, Johnny.” His attitude from earlier slips away in a moment, and you wonder if it was even you that he was upset with earlier. Would it kill him to talk to you?

“It was.” You feel like you're walking through a minefield. One wrong thing, and he'll explode. His cheeky grin widens, and he walks over, grabbing his cigarettes from next to you, and pulls one out of the pack, tucking it between his lips. He's still sweating.

“Light?” He pats his pockets but can't find the lighter. You know where you keep one, but for some reason, you don't grab it. Maybe you don't want to be at his beck and call, for once. It's that little bit of clarity lingering.

“I was trying to find one earlier. That piece of junk is probably in a different pair of pants or something.” You're trying to be nonchalant, casual. This isn't important to you because it isn't important to him. You're still sweating, too.

“I think I have a spare somewhere. Take care of yourself tonight, Johnny. I'll see you tomorrow.” As he speaks, the cigarette tucked between his lips, bobs. You watch it like a fish waiting to be reeled in. You don’t want to ponder the implications so you don’t.

“Yeah, see you then.” You watch him as he slinks out of your tent. You lay back against your cot and wonder, for a split second, if this is what housewives feel like. You feel lonely and wish he's come back, but you know what today is and who it is that he'll be calling.

[jvstheworld]

My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E6 (part 1)

Two Aces

Someone give Ted a hug. He's all alone and sad. Sudeikis really sells the emotional moments in this show.

Manic, fast talking Ted, trying to not let on that anything is wrong. He isn't trying to be positive, he's just trying to deflect his own attention away from his thoughts and not give Nate and Beard an opportunity to ask him about things.

Ted looks good in red. Well, he looks good in anything, but red and blue especially. The bit with the jumper is cute. And his hair in that scene, I want to mess it up so bad. And the strand of hair that keeps on falling out of place, oh honey (I will never apologise for finding that man attractive, even for the smallest thing. A dishevelled Ted is a hot Ted).

Ted doesn't like the word bury and it's negative connotation, because of his dad.

You can not get anything past Beard, he knows all and sees all. Also he was there for Ted after Michelle and Henry left so he knew what was up already.

I love Trent Crimm - The Independent. Enough said.

'Not talk like that at work anymore' Why Ted, what kind of masterstroke did you think Rebecca was talking about?

Ted's reactions to stuff is gold. It's slightly over the top but not so it's unbelievable.

The semantic satiation bit with the word plan, Ted only says it 4 times before it loses meaning. And the way he says plan when mimicking Rebecca, how his voice just goes softer... Am I really gonna thirst for Ted during this episode? Probably.

Rebecca is a busy woman, yet she still indulges Ted in his ramblings.

Beard's 'oh boy' because he knows shit is about to go down. Ted is done with Jamie's bullshit.

It was in this moment that everyone knew Jamie fucked up. Even the guys around Jamie know to leave when Ted turns back to confront him. If Jamie wasn't so smug, Ted wouldn't have gone off on him like he did. Never piss off the nice person, what they say will hurt more than you think and you know you've gone too far.

Ted says practice 11 times during to speech to Jamie but the word still has meaning, compared to plan and aces where he says it a few times.

Jamie starts out smug, thinking that Ted is a pushover, nothing he says matters. And he's like that until Ted really starts shouting at him, when we get the Dutch Angle. We see the difference in both Ted and Jamie. Ted for the first time is genuinely angry, a side very few probably see, and Jamie has gone quiet because he's being reminded of when his dad shouts at him.

This is one of the few times I've seen a Dutch Angle used perfectly (here's looking at you Twilight. You're an example of how not to use it). A good example would be in the first Mission: Impossible film when Ethan sits down with Kitridge.

Ted's while speech is a reimagining of the Iverson speech. Sudeikis being a basketball fan would know of it and figured out a way to use it for his own intentions. Giving it a new meaning that's just as effective as when Iverson said it.

When done shouting Ted just walks away, giving Jamie no time to talk back or argue with him. Ted is in control over the situation, as opposed to the previous episode where Jamie was the one in control.

Everyone now respects Ted a bit more now. Probably and especially Roy.

Ted is still hot when he's angry. God damn it.

Beard is smiling in the office because he knows that Ted finally put Jamie in his place, something that needed to be be.

Schadenfreude - taking pleasure in another's pain. Nate enjoying what happened to Jamie is just an indication of later behaviours that will pop up.

[beej-hunnicutt]

Found my first Kik writing!!! Where I was trying to explore what I wanted to do with him!! It's fun seeing!! A small thing of him and Donovan meeting!! It's kinda long so put it under a read more. I still like it. I enjoy how up and lively Donovan is. I feel usually he's a bit moodier in my works, you're more in his head. So that was fun! Teehee

At least there was a breeze in the night, making the heat left over from the day slightly more bearable. Kik took a long drag of his cigarette and tapped away some ash. He looked down at a small pill bug moving around in the dirt. He was careful not to crush it with his combat boot, but he would block a little space, have it try to move around him. He watched it quietly and finally let it on its way. He was out a little ways from the thrown up medical tent, taking a break before starting up his night shift.

"So doctors really do smoke?" A voice behind him asked. There was snark when the man spoke.

Kik looked over his shoulder at a man with his arm wrapped up, but in his fatigues.The sleeve with the injury was rolled up passed it. He stood up, putting his cigarette between his lips, instantly walking over, checking on the doctor's work.

"What are you doing out of bed? Who let you leave?" Kik sighed.

"Relax, I'm set to leave in a few hours. Thought I would get some fresh air. My vitals are fine. Don't look so scared!" The soldier took a seat where Kik was at previously, patting the rock to get Kik to return.

Kik walked over, a touch hesitant, but took a seat. The soldier's hair was slicked back unlike when he was brought in, hair disheveled, arm bleeding even after the attempt to close it off. From one of his pockets, the other man slipped out his own pack of cigarettes and a zippo to light it. He took a long drag of his and a few shorter ones. Kik wanted to tell the blond solider to slowdown, the cigarette isn't going to run off, but he decided to just look at the sky. At least you could see the stars.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked.

"I feel fine, really. I just need to get back to my men. This was a bullshit injury, I think it could have been dealt with it at the action."

"Well thank you Doctor," Kik gently picked up the other man's dog tags, finding the name. "Donovan. We'll be sure to check in with you first."

Donovan looked back at him for a few moments and scoffed, a large smirk on his face. He took another drag before talking. "Fair point. But I really do hate being away from them, I'd feel like shit if something happened while I was gone."

Kik nodded along, never knowing what to say to soldiers. He never fought, and he was very happy to say that. He refuses to even hold a gun, he's suppose to be healing people, not causing the pain. He has been around the action, before being transferred to a MUST unit.

He hated the war, he didn't want to be in it. He knew that didn't make him special, most didn't want to be here. There was a handful of things that could have, or should have gotten him exempt from going but none of those things seems to really matter as they're checking you. If you're in shape, that seems to do it. It doesn't matter if you're, dumb, homosexual, even seeming to have sympathy towards the communists. Especially not when you're a doctor. They desperately needed doctors. You got the brains, you're in shape, you have the skills, they really can look over the other things. Especially when they can tell you're true and strong about your practice. You'll help whoever needs it. Then, they really pretend they have never heard the bad things.

Kik kept thinking about Donovan's tags, an 'O'. He was an officer, and the three followed after. He's from the same coast as Kik.

"You're an officer, what are you a major? I don't see your oak."

"Doesn't matter, my name works just fine when trying to get my attention. But, now I get to know something." He put his cigarette in his mouth and reached over, grabbing Kik's own set of tags.

"Keith...José..." He muttered, but a smile crept on his face as he kept reading. "Kennedy. Nice last name to have right now."

This got a chuckle out of Kik and he shook his head. "Depends on who sees it."

"Yeah I would imagine. Let's see...Drafted and ah!" He pulled away, and raised a brow. "Where from?"

"Seattle Washington, you?"

"California." He moved the cigarette from his mouth after taking a puff. Kik noted he made sure to leave out the city he's from. Donovan flicked away some ash. "I could never live somewhere that rainy, the rain here is god damn awful."

"It's not the best, but it's what I'm use to."

Donovan nodded along. "It's humid there, right?"

Kik had a warm smile on his face, talking about home here either made that entire day or made it one of the worst. But this was nice. "Yeah, Spring time sucks, you have the overcast keeping in the heat, the humidity because it rained last night and might start up again all while being mid seventies."

"Sounds like torture, been there only once. It was summer so the temperature wasn't too bad. Do you guys have any place where the ocean actually is somewhat decent?"

"No, but we have some nice lakes."

"I'll have to take your word for that one." Donovan tossed the bud of his cigarette to the ground. He really smoked as much as he possibly could before tossing it. Kik looked down at his own, he hasn't tapped away the ash in awhile, and it burned through a lot of it. It wasn't much to save, so he let his own drop to the ground.

"Oh, your beginning question about cigarettes. I shouldn't smoke them, I don't think you should either. I only when I'm stressed out."

"So you've been chainsmoking lately?" Donovan grinned, reaching into his own pocket to light another.

"I try to save it for when I really need it."

"So why today? Long shift?"

"Bad surgery."

Donovan sucked his teeth and gave him firm slap on the back of understanding or comfort. "That's rough, not enough credit goes to you guys, the shit you're able to do?" He whistled, "It's amazing. I know this isn't enough but." Donovan began to trail off.

Kik stood up, tugging his tags into between his undershirt and his fatigue. "Are you gonna let me walk you back to your bed, Donovan?"

"Only if you'll read me a bedtime story when you're not busy." Donovan teased, standing up with Kik. He began following the doctor back to the main recovery room.

[lixxen]

Eddie Brock/Venom Headcanons

Specifically for Male Readers <3

Venom 2: Let There Be Carnage spoilers

Eddie has met you once or twice before, but he just doesn't recognize you. You two have always gone to Mrs Chen's store and have passed each other quietly, barely taking notice of the other.

It is actually Venom who finds you.

While body hopping, Venom ends up taking you on as a temporary host.

To Venom's surprise, your body is a match just like Eddie.

Venom decides he likes you, as you only freak out for a minute and then just accepted your fate almost dramatically.

Venom explains what he is and why he is in this situation slowly. You offer him advice about his and Eddie's relationship that others hadn't given before.

Venom appreciates it.

Anne and Dan find you huddled outside of Mrs Chen's store, too afraid to go inside.

Venom respected the fact you didn't want to go inside and were scared, so he let you sit outside and just wait. He knew Eddie would come eventually.

Anne and Dan introduce themselves and bring you along to the police department, where Venom proceeds to break Eddie out of prison.

Venom automatically retreats into you once he sets down Eddie, which makes you stumble forward. Eddie catches you in his arms.

Eddie looks you over and starts to demand what had happened and if you are okay. You just look disheveled and out of it more than anything.

Anne explains that she and Dan had found you as Venom spoke to you inside of your head.

Venom didn't want to not go back to Eddie. He just wasn't ready to go back. You reassure him that he didn't have to just yet, but he would need to from the sound of it.

You had figured out how to respond to Venom within your head, which was something Eddie was never able to.

Eddie seemed to notice you staring off as Venom and you conversate, turning back to you and putting his hands on your shoulders.

He proceeds to apologize to both you and Venom. You didn't know why he was apologizing to you, but it felt nice.

In the end, Venom went back to Eddie.

You kind of missed the feeling of someone else inside of your head once Venom had left.

After the pair had managed to destroy Carnage and Cletus, the two found you again.

You didn't know how, but it happened.

You sat the two down and talked to them for hours about their issues.

They actually listened to you? For the most part?

It was kind of sweet watching them talk it out and come to a mutual middle ground.

You ended up explaining to Eddie how to communicated with Venom internally so he didn't look absolutely batshit crazy.

He still slightly struggles, but he can somewhat do it.

About a year later, the two asked you out.

You said yes.

[popoutsekai]

from anonymous : Can I get a sunny x reader where the reader likes to draw? Reader doesn't really share their drawings with the gang but one day sunny accidentally sees their sketchbook somehow and sees beautiful drawings of him made by y/n.

I hope you're having a wonderful day!🧸

ahh hello!! i hope you’re having a wonderful day too! sorry i messed up some formatting stuff and it ended up deleting your ask (oops?) i don’t know when you sent this so i’m banging it out as fast as i can + i’m new to tumblr bear with me pls </3 also i didnt know which sunny you wanted so i wrote for older sunny, if you want more younger sunny lmk pls !!

w/o further ado, welcome to artist!reader x sunny from both povs ^^

art cred !! + ct reading under cut, omori spoilers regarding the entire plot lmao sorry </3

reader perspective - second pov

did you mean to leave your sketchbook at sunny’s house, three years ago? most definitely not. why would you, [name], the organized artist of the 12 year olds, become so forgetful at a random moment in time? and now you were 15, 16 give or take.

you were the one who changed the least over those three long years; just a little more troubled, a little less organized. and you forgot about your sketchbook a while ago. you assumed you left it at the park, or something. but it wasn’t a big deal. the big deal was that you and kel got sunny out of the house!

it was actually mostly kel. that was the only person you talked to, basically. and you were busy the third day before sunny’s move. so, you joined him on the second day before.

“so, sunny, you okay and everything?” you slipped in when kel randomly flew away to get hero more random gifts at fix-it, of all places. “i heard you were moving away. are you excited?”

you heard a light “mhm” vocalize from his chest. you turned to him and smiled slightly.

“you’re lucky, you know. the world out there’s big. i hope you have a good time and stuff.”

“mhm.”

“just don’t forget about all of us!” you poked him with your shoulder lightly as to not push him over. he was glass, he was fragile, but he was as graceful as ever.

he nodded as kel yelled for you two to finally “move along! we’re going home- well, to my house!”

you were almost taking your first steps in kel’s direction, but sunny didn’t really move. noticing this, your body turned on its own to face him. “wanna take my hand?”

he blinked. yeah, sunny blinked.

“sure.”

it was quiet, but you could hear it loud and clear. his hand gripped onto yours as snug as could be.

well, maybe for him. he was gripping on for dear life on your part.

“YO! will you guys hurry? hero’s almost here…” kel’s whines echoed throughout the store, annoying the workers there.

you laughed a little, sunny’s hand still in yours. “hold on, kel! we’ll be right there!”

and with that, you felt as if sunny gained trust with you a little more.

sunny’s perspective - second pov

did you mean to find [name]’s sketchbook, from years and years ago, in your room as you and kel and hero and them were sleeping over in your house, in your room? most definitely not. in fact, you were just snooping around your living room before you heard their steps float in the house.

you flinched. they really haven’t changed throughout the years(?) you spent without them. they just looked different. a little more disheveled. but they still had that grace they held within them.

“hey, sunny? do you know where the bathroom is?” they yawned groggily, you figured you had to turn around to face them properly. “sorry, i just keep forgetting how your house wo- what is that?”

their eyes landed on the booklet that you had in your hands. the front cover had sketches of your little group. your little seven person group from long ago.

“hold on, i lost that a long time ago! well, we can kill some time here. do you wanna look through it together?”

you nodded, wanting to see more. what’s gone through their mind all this time? what happened throughout all those years?

but the first page you flipped to was near the middle of the sketchbook. it was a full body pose of…someone who looked so familiar. it felt as if it was captured from years ago, and placed onto the page. the boy felt happy, full of love and life. and you knew that wasn’t like how you were back then, not most of the time.

you turned to [name], staring at their gaping mouth and wide eyes. “oh my god, i forgot about that drawing.” they caressed the pages between their fingers and smiled. “this is the drawing that inspired me to draw more of…well, you. a little embarrassing, huh?”

you shook your head. it was more embarrassing for you, really.

“oh, phew, that’s a relief! well, that’s because…let me just show you.” they placed a hand inside their sweatshirt pocket, pulling out a small notebook around the same size you had in your hands. it fell onto the notebook you held with a plop. “you can look through it if you want.”

and so you did. the pages felt so good to flip through. it felt good to see some life within a notebook. the boy they drew had a simple anatomy, which they sketched perfectly. his hair was in place sometimes; others it wasn’t. his eyes had a sparkle in it sometimes; others he seemed gloomy. either way, the poses they drew felt so natural and light compared to the ones white space had to offer.

there were also sketches of their group. some in color, some not. he saw pictures of mari and hero holding hands and dancing. aubrey and kel and basil and sunny, all running around happily. was this another reality they tuned themself into?

“um, sunny? do you like them?” that’s what caught you off guard. “i mean, the drawings.”

you knew [name] never bragged about their drawing skills. back then, they only sketched with the intent of keeping it to themself only. and they got super flustered when people asked if they could show them their drawings. especially sunny.

“yeah.”

this meant a lot to [name]. sunny knew this much. their eyes grew wide like how they first laid eyes on their own sketchbook. “hehe, thanks.”

“mhm.”

“so, should we go back upstairs? i remembered where the bathroom is now! it’s up the stairs and in the middle, right?” they smiled wide again, helping you stack your notebooks up into a little pile and placing it on your hands.

you nodded, as always.

“let’s go then!” you two walked side by side, up the stairs one step at a time. the silence felt super comforting and natural, going up like you two were going to conquer the world.

well, faraway town was a start at least.

as you two reached the top, they looked you in the eye. their gaze was a little scary, but it wasn’t unusual for [name] to do stuff like this.

“hey sunny? i just wanted to let you know i love you.”

blink.

“i always have had just a little thing for you, and now that you’re moving, i just wanted you to have this.” they held out a drawing of you two together, sitting on a bench and holding hands. it depicted you and them from years ago together.

another blink.

“thanks for being a great friend, sunny! hah, i’ll always keep a little space in my notebooks for you.”

reader perspective - second pov

what you didn’t expect for sunny to do was lean his forehead on yours. but it felt so natural, so you two just stood there for a good amount of time. it felt right to be here, to stand here, to hold these notebooks and to hold these memories that were supposed to be made.

maybe someday you’ll make them.

but it starts with sunny overcoming his fears and faults. and you were willing to wait until the end of time.

and somewhere in his shrouded heart, he would wait for you too.

maybe soon enough, your happy endings will end up crossing together in the shape of love.

[mxthtea]

this wasnt a req but i dont care

scara x gn!reader warnings: family being hospitalized, this is really bad but i still dont care, dialogue heavy, written before 2.1 and scara's release, grammar + spelling mistakes, lowercase writing, tell me if i forgot any description: you stood at in front of him as he looked at you. you shouldn't have come here.

"do you need something, or are you just gonna stare at me all night?" word count: 781

"alright, thank you. goodbye," you said to the phone.

pressing the 'end call button' you sighed stared at your phone. everything seemed to be happening all at once but also too slow. waiting for new news took forever, but you also didn't want to know it at all. what if something bad happened to them? they were already struggling at the hospital, what if it got worse?

thoughts swarmed in your head as you opened your phone once again, skipping contacts until you found a familiar one and pressed 'call.'

after a few rings, there was an answer.

"what?"

"are you free?"

"it's dark out."

"please?"

there was a groan from the other side, "yes, you can come over."

"...thank you."

the call ended as you packed a small bag of what you needed. you hoped he'd let you say for a least a day, your home felt stuffy after what's been happening after all.

you walked instead of driving, he didn't live that far away after all. and before realizing it, you found yourself at the front door of his own home. it looked nice from the outside. with slight hesitance, you knocked on the red door and waited.

and with a creak, you saw the familiar purple hair as scaramouche came into view.

he looked tired. his hair was slightly disheveled from its familiar look and he wore a simple t-shirt and shorts instead of anything complex as usual.

you thought you had something to say, a plan or something. but everything went blank when you saw him. there was silence in the air, bugs buzzing late at night being the only thing to be heard.

you stood in front of him as he looked at you. you shouldn't have come here.

"do you need something, or are you just gonna stare at me all night?"

"i just wanted to ask uh- are- can i stay here?" you stuttered.

"what."

"like- for a few days! or just tonight. stuffs been happening with my family and i've been so busy too with other things. so i just wanted to get out of the house and stay with you."

scara sighed, you thought he'd turn you away for a split second. instead, he opened his door further as he walked in, inviting you inside. you stepped inside.

"the extra room is still open from last time you were here," he said, walking around the house to the extra room.

"can i stay in yours? i did it last time i was here anyways. and i don't want to be alone right now."

"...fine."

in short time, you settled into scara's room. your phone plugged in by the bed in case you received a call about any news. rustling was heard from the side as scara laid next to you, looking up at you.

"do you want to talk about what's been happening?"

well, that was surprising. you didn't expect him to ask really.

"well, one of my family members has been hospitalized from their sickness. i got off of a call with my mother right before i called you. they're- " you took a breath in to steady yourself. "they're doing better but it's not great or even good."

scara took one of your hands in his as he idly held it. you squeezed his hand to ground yourself more.

"it's just- everything is so up in the air i don't know how to expect. they were getting better until they dropped dramatically, now they're at least getting better from that. but who knows… it doesn't help some of my other family members think it's too late by now."

you took your phone with your other hand, opening it to check if anything happened.

no notification appeared.

"i'm just so nervous scara. everything feels stuffy and like walls are closing in on me. it's hard to breathe and focus… i just want to sleep."

"then sleep for tonight."

you looked down as scara traced your knuckles. he stared at your hand before looking up to you.

"sleep for tonight, wake up tomorrow. we can go somewhere tomorrow then. or we can stay here and do whatever you want."

"are you sure?"

"of course i am. you're stressed out and tired, so rest. if anything happens, i'll stay with you."

you'd cry if you had the energy to.

"thank you scara…" you whispered.

"whatever… just sleep. we can get extra clothes from your place tomorrow. stay here as long as you need."

you smiled as you laid down with scara. at least for that moment, you felt better with him. so, you finally let yourself fall asleep with your arms wrapped around him.

[itsdanii]

To the person whose ask won't go through and decided to drop me a dm, here's your request ♥️ I hope you like it, bub! Have a good day and stay hydrated!

Security

genre: slight angst fluff

warning/s: insecurity, self doubts, mentions of che*ting (He didn't do it, just a thought)

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason.

prompt/s: "sleep at my place tonight", "i don't like the idea of you walking down the streets alone", "please talk to me about it".

ft. matsukawa issei, f!reader

you've always been secured about your relationship but with the way matsun was acting, you weren't so sure any more. how can you, when he doesn't even bother hiding the fact that he was avoiding you?

You weren't a possessive girlfriend nor were you a crazy psycho bitch who would glare at every girl who would get close to your boyfriend.

No, you were understanding. In fact, you were too understanding to the point that you refuse to confront your boyfriend despite several days of not eating lunch with you, only to find him having lunch with another girl just behind the school's gym.

Despite the countless doubts swimming inside your head, you forced yourself to be positive, to think that the interaction was only between two friends who would eat lunch together.

Eating lunches with your friends was pretty normal anyway, right? Everybody does it and so can Mattsun.

Throughout the whole day, your attention in class was at its lowest point. You were too distracted that one of your teachers even pointed it out, telling the whole room that you were somewhere up in space.

"Y/n-chan! You okay?" Oikawa asked as he came out of nowhere, his bag carelessly dangling on his side as he held a volleyball with his hand.

"Mhm, just not in the mood," you answered with a small smile.

Suddenly, Oikawa put an arm over your shoulder and leaned down beside your ear. "It's about Mattsun, isn't it? It's written all over your face, y/n-chan."

You didn't have the energy to deny so you only gave him a nod before sliding his arm off your shoulder dismissively. "It's just that he's been too busy lately. I mean, I'm not trying to eat up all his attention but I can't help but feel lonely, you know? He's my boyfriend yet he spends his time more with that girl from his class."

"Ooh, is our dear y/n-chan jealous?" he teased, poking your side which eventually made you gasp.

"So what if I am? I'm still his girlfriend," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As the two of you continued gossiping with random stuff that happened throughout your day, you both decided to get some icecream since it had almost been a week since you and oikawa catch up.

However, the moment you entered, the first person you saw was none other than your boyfriend who claimed that he was going to go home early because of some emergency. A chocolate icecream was placed on top of his table along with a strawberry one that obviously belonged to the person he was sitting with.

Mattsun's lips parted, looking like a deer suddenly caught in headlights, and the moment your feet moved to run away from the store, Matsukawa instantly stood up to chase you.

You only managed to run a few distance away from the icecream shop when a hand suddenly clasped around your wrist. You struggled against his hold, trying to take your hand back as the tears started streaming down your cheeks. "Let me go, Issei!"

"Love, please. Listen to me. It's a misunderstanding, okay? I wasn't-"

"Shut up, I don't wanna hear any of your excuses," you spat at him and forcefully pulled your wrist back, successfully this time. "I'm going home."

"I know you're mad and you probably want your space but, love, at least let me walk you home. You know how much I don't like the idea of you walking down the streets alone." Matsukawa looked at you with pleading eyes, his hand clenching and unclenching on his side at the fear of losing you.

You stared at his hand for a few moments before finally muttering a low "Fine."

The two of you walked quietly, a small distance between the both of you which you knew Matsukawa obviously hated. Everytime he would try to reach for your hand, you would take it away and pretend as if you were sctraching something or playing with the ends of your hair.

It was 10 minutes during your walk when he finally had enough of the looming silence. Without saying anything, he slid an arm over your waist and pulled you to him. "I wasn't cheating on you if that's what you're thinking," he immediately said as soon as you were wrapped around his arms.

You felt yourself relax a little upon hearing that but still, you were hurt by how cold he treated you. "Then why?" you asked, voice almost cracking as you held yourself back from crying, your hand fisting the back of his jacket tightly as if you didn't want to let go.

"I guess I really have to ruin the plan," Matsukawa muttered with a sigh. "She's actually my cousin and I asked for help since your birthday is coming up. I... don't know how to choose something a girl would like."

Oh no.

He didn't cheated on you. He wanted to buy you a gift.

And you ruined it.

On top of that, you basically accused your boyfriend of cheating on you when he only wanted to make you happy.

As if sensing the way your body suddenly became stiff, Matsukawa unwrapped his arms from around you. "Hey, love, it's okay. I understand where you were coming from."

You shook your head no and looked up at him with trembling lips. "It's not okay, Issei. I'm sorry. I just thought that I was going to lose you and I-"

You were silenced by the feeling of Matsukawa's lips on yours, his hand making it's way to your nape in order to guide you. At the feel of his lips moving against yours, your eyes fluttered close, savoring the feeling.

As he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, lips still hovering over your own as you both panted for air. "Fuck, I missed you," he whispered before giving your lips another peck. "It was my fault for acting cold towards you but please, the next time you feel insecure and need reassurance, please talk to me about it."

You nodded in response, still caught up with the kiss you both shared. With your arms still wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the tips of his hair, you opened your eyes to stare at him. "I love you."

"And I love you too." Matsukawa pulled away and gently pat your hair down, chuckling at how it was slightly disheveled. "Sleep at my place tonight. Let's watch some shitty movies you love watching. It's weekend tomorrow anyway."

Smiling at him, you took his hand and interlocked your fingers together before answering, "I'd never say no to that."

I've never felt so single 👁️👄👁️

[hexpea]

Ch. 13 - Mine

AN: Back to the present with this chapter!

"I do remember," Chisaki answered you, "he had killed your father. And you loved him."

"Well, I wasn't in love with him," you blushed and looked away, "but we grew up together, so being close was warranted."

Chisaki stared at you as if he didn't believe your answer one bit. "So you saw him last night," he started, "what happened?" His tone allowed you to read him like an open book. It was obvious he was worried you might still be in love with Shigaraki. Deep down he didn't want to admit it, but he had figured you'd see him and he hoped that it would quell any remaining feelings so the two of you could grow close without obstacles.

You gave him a warm smile before answering. "Not much happened, he was asking about you. So I told him that you were genuine with your goals. The only thing was that he was worried that I was your guinea pig which I quickly denied. And he knows about us...he guessed it himself."

"Was that everything?" He looked a bit relieved as his hand came up to pull down his mask. "Does he...have any lingering feelings? Did he try to pull something?" You slightly stiffened at this question as he anxiously awaited your answer.

"No, it doesn't seem like it," you shook your head, putting on your best face to hide any sort of tone that indicated you were lying. All the while, intense images of the kiss flashed through your mind and the guilt of lying began pressing on your shoulders.

"In that case, should we have our talk," he reached out and pushed hair behind your ears, his feathery light touch building goosebumps against your sensitive skin.

You swallowed hard, "about us?"

"Yes," he gave a warm smile that you could see now, "about us." He closed the gap so you were forced to look up at him as he lovingly looked down. The palm that had brushed hair back now fell warmly upon your cheek, the latex the only thing separating your flesh.

"What about us?" Your little smile began to grow as your cheeks flushed. You had been waiting for this moment and you wanted him to be the one to bring it up.

"I want to make things more official," his expression was so loving. Only you had seen this side of Chisaki. "You've known I've had feelings for you for some time and we've been meeting with each other every night for the past month. It's about time I ask you to be mine. So...will you be mine?"

"As long as you get to be mine," you smirked and leaned on one leg, arms now crossed, "Kai."

He smirked back and slowly came down, pressing his smooth lips against your own. It was an incredible change of pace from the rough, chapped lips you had kissed the night prior. You tried to swallow that memory as the kiss continued, Chisaki's arms pulling your waist close and spinning you so that you were now facing the desk he had been working at.

In one motion, he lifted you by your bum and placed you on the desk, forcing his way between your legs as you tried to keep your torso up from the pressure of his kiss. You whimpered as his tongue forced its way past your lips, a flame beginning to burn brightly within you fueled by your blood pressure.  His hands were firmly planted beside your thighs as his dominating figure continued to take over you, your own hands tightly gripping his black button-up.

The two of you had been so in the moment, neither had realized the door had creaked open and Irinaka's tiny figure waddled in. He made sure to keep his distance from Hiru, knowing if he got too near he'd wind up in his human state which meant tearing his uniform and standing there naked.

"Overhaul," he piped up in his nasal voice. He seemed completely unfazed by what he walked in on.

"What, Mimic?!" Chisaki shouted, slamming his fist on the wooden desk and glaring back at him.

"There's a call for you," he continued, again thinking nothing of the sight of his disheveled boss. "It's Shigaraki Tomura from the League of Villains. He said he'd give you his answer from the other day."

"Tell him to come here," Chisaki growled, fists tightening with irritation. You could still feel his erection, steady against his pelvis. He was pissed that he was interrupted...like some kind of feral animal. You blushed and covered your mouth with a hand to keep from chuckling at this realization. "Tell him to come here tomorrow evening. We can discuss it then, give him an escort."

"He's insistent that you speak with him..." Irinaka's voice finally wavered for a moment. "I think you should answer...you killed one of his members and took another's arm so I'm afraid if you don't answer we would have blown our last shot."

"Fine," he hissed and angrily pulled himself away from you, having no shame in adjusting himself in front of Irinaka as he stormed out of the room.

Irinaka took a second to look at you and then back at the empty door that Chisaki had left through, connecting the dots of what you had been doing and rushing out and making an embarrassed wheeze when he finally did so.  With their absence, you were able to let out a bit of laughter. You loved how frustrated Chisaki would get when he was interrupted with you.

You unfortunately weren't able to continue your "meeting" with Chisaki as he had gotten too busy, but it felt good to finally have something solid going on between you. You couldn't keep him off your mind the entire day...and night as you slipped your hand under the covers.

You were expected at the meeting with Shigaraki, something you didn't look forward to. You couldn't deny the emotional conflict you had felt when seeing him that other night. You just had to keep reminding yourself that you had put your past behind you and that Shigaraki was a murderer...something you wanted no part in.

Unfortunately, you found out your presence was needed a bit too late, entering a few moments after the pair had begun their meeting. You appeared in the doorway behind Shigaraki who hadn't noticed your presence. Kurono stood behind him while Irinaka sat on the armrest of the sofa beside Chisaki. You made your way around the room until you stood behind Chisaki in your uniform as protocol called for.

"I was made to walk in circles underground for thirty minutes," Shigaraki complained before he acknowledged your presence, his voice muffled by his father's hand. "I'm not an ant... Are all yakuza strongholds like this?" You noticed that even after all these years he still had a childlike demeanor about him. It caused you to lightly smile from behind your mask.

"We don't know who's watching or from where, nor do we know what our guests are thinking," Chisaki answered, leaning on his knees and looking forward with a sinister gaze. "A number of underground routes lead here. This reception room is also one of our hidden underground rooms." Shigaraki gave a quick look at you through the fingers on his face as you stood behind the sofa. His body was completely stiff and uncomfortable as he tried to focus on Chisaki's words.

"We've been able to survive until now because of small details like this," Irinaka proudly spoke up. "Anyway! What you said the other day over the phone...you meant it, right? That you'd join us as long as certain conditions were met?"

"Don't interpret it in your favor," Shigaraki mumbled as his body relaxed to your presence. You could just barely make it out through the goggles on your face, but you saw a single red eye staring directly at you. He looked away again and tossed his foot on the glass table with confidence. "You guys want the name of our League of Villains, we want to increase our strength. Our needs coincide."

Chisaki sighed with his head now leaned against his palm in exasperation, "put your foot down, the table'll get dirty."

"Will you put your foot down, please? That's what you should be saying, young head. You should really be bowing to me." Shigaraki taunted. If it weren't for the palm in front of his lips, you knew he'd be giving a cocky smile.

"Tomura," you spoke, your voice also muffled by the mask, "be kind." You hoped that with whatever feelings were left between you that he'd listen. It was clear that you would be the arbiter here.

He glared up at you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to listen. He eventually did, dragging his foot from the table but continuing his rant. "First, we won't put ourselves under you. We'll move however we want. Half--in other words, a joint partnership. If that's what this is, then we'll help."

"So those are the conditions?"

"One more thing. That plan you said you had," he pointed toward Chisaki who seemed to be growing more impatient by the second. "Tell me what it is. That's a reasonable condition. I want to consider whether or not there's merit in lending you our name. For that matter," he began reaching into his trench coat pocket for something to which Kurono quickly reacted with a pistol against his temple and Mimic with a freed arm to defend their boss.

In the same blink of an eye, you tore off your mask in preparation to stop either of them - just barely being able to make out Kurono's eyes through his goggles.

"Hari...did you not check the contents of his pockets before bringing him down here?" You asked seriously, eyes wide with fury as they pierced Kurono's through the foggy glass. "What do you have to be worried about?" Kurono looked as if he were about to throw a tantrum as you used his given name.

"He's doing too much of what he wants," Kurono gave no fear as he stared back, pistol unmoving. "And who do you think you are, princess? Just because you're sleeping with our boss doesn't mean you get any special permissions."

Chisaki was about to speak in your defense, but Shigaraki was the first to speak. "Who do you think you are? You took our our Hikiishi without any losses to your side. Plus the added value of Mr. Compress' arm. We're still uneven. If we don't get some concessions from you, then it won't be worth it to us."

"Stay back, Chrono, Mimic," Chisaki calmly instructed. Kurono quickly put away his gun without any hesitation. "He came all this way with his offer. Let's hear him out until the end."

"I have some idea of what plan you have," Shigaraki pulled out the small, red bullet from his pocket. Its needle glistened under the light. "It has something to do with this, right? The removal of quirks...at least from what Y/N told me the other night." His eyes flickered to yours again, how direct contact without your mask.

"You spoke with him?!" Kurono nearly shouted, thinking the Hassaikai had been betrayed. "Did you know about this, Overhaul?!" He was clearly trying to throw you under the bus, but, as always, he was unsuccessful.

"Of course," Chisaki answered calmly, "Wraith is allowed to come and go as she pleases. It only makes sense for her to visit an old friend." You couldn't see it but you knew Kurono was raging from behind his mask. It was especially clear thanks to his now straightened and stiff posture. He didn't want to question Chisaki, but it was becoming more and more certain that you'd become his anesan whether he'd be okay with it or not.   "It's true we're developing a solution against what you label quirks."

"Wraith?" Shigaraki ignored Chisaki's comments and used a mocking tone as he looked up at you. "Did you come up with that?" He looked at you but you only gave a small frown and let Chisaki answer.

"It suits her quirk," Chisaki mumbled, lowering his brow in frustration, "and protects her identity."

"I'm not calling her that," Shigaraki argued like a child.

"You don't have to," you grumbled and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as Chisaki pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Going back to business," Chisaki interrupted before you two could go further, "give us Kurogiri or Togo, and maybe Bubaiwagara. If we let you move freely, it might be troubling for us."

"They're all useful guys," Shigaraki contemplated while scratching slowly at his neck, "trying to reduce our movements, huh? They're cornerstones to our operation. Like I'd give you so many..."

"Let's build our trust," Chisaki mumbled, "right now there's still ill will between us. You've learned everything about my plan. Next, it's your turn. Your members are important to you, right?"

Shigaraki sat in silence, again scratching at his neck and making a gurgling sound of distaste as he did so. He looked up at you again as you kept a straight face. Working with Chisaki meant one thing for him: getting close to you again.

"Fine," he finally conceded. "I'll have them start with you next week."

"Great," Chisaki came to a steady stand and walked around the sofa to your side, "then it's settled." You kept your eyes steadily on Shigaraki as you had been but your focus wavered as Chisaki left a warm, lingering peck on your exposed cheek - the flesh reddening with heat. "Come Chrono, Mimic. Escort him out, Wraith."

You stayed behind as the three of them exited the room, leaving you completely alone with Shigaraki.

"Just friends, huh?" Shigaraki leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms, putting his feet back on the coffee table. He also removed the hand on his face so you could properly see his expression which was a proud smirk.

"Come on," you sighed, removing the hood of your cloak and began walking toward the door.