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gf2bellamy · 14 hours ago

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first of all, i want to say that i love love love your fics so much they're so cute and you write Spencer so well omg 😭😭😭

could i request girlfriend reader and spencer where he just got out of prison and they reunite and stuff and they just want to be close to eachother because theyve never spent that much time apart??

(preferably very fluffy and cute?)

reunited — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n ) content warnings: a bit of angst a/n: THANK YOU SM !!! <33 means alot to me <3 hope this is what you asked for !!

The moment Spencer stepped through the doors, your heart felt like it was going to burst. You had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours until he was free again. Until he was back in your arms. And now, here he was—alive, real, and standing right in front of you.

His eyes found yours almost immediately, and the way they lit up made your chest ache. The man who had been your anchor, your safe place, your everything.

And now, after weeks of being apart, he was finally here.

You didn’t even realize you were moving until you were running toward him, your feet carrying you faster than your thoughts could catch up. He met you halfway, his long arms wrapping around you before you could even say a word. The force of his embrace nearly knocked the air out of you, but you didn’t care. You clung to him just as tightly, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the way his hands trembled as they held you. “I missed you so much.”

When you finally pulled back, you didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face until Spencer gently brushed them away. His touch was soft as his fingertips traced the paths of your tears.

For a moment, he just looked at you, as if he were memorizing every detail of your face, as if he needed to remind himself that you were real, that this was real.

And then, without a word, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you even tighter than before. His face buried into your shoulder, and you could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his body seemed to sag against yours, as if he’d been holding himself together for weeks and only now, with you, could he finally let go.

An hour later, you were home, and Spencer still hadn’t left your side. He had changed out of his clothes, and you were pretty sure that was the only time he hadn’t been touching you in some way. But even then, he had kept his eyes on you, as if afraid you might vanish if he looked away for too long.

Now, sitting on the couch, he had practically pulled you on top of him, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he couldn’t bear even the slightest distance between you.

Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. One of his hands was tangled in your hair, gently playing with the strands, while the other traced slow, soothing circles on your back.

“I missed this,” Spencer said quietly, his voice soft but filled with emotion. “I missed you. I missed the way you feel in my arms, the way you smell, the way you make everything feel… okay.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his words. His eyes were still a little red.

“I missed you too,” you said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Every single day.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the feeling of your hand against his skin.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” he said quietly. “Not like that. Not ever.”

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to be,” you said softly. “You’re stuck with me, Spencer Reid. For as long as you’ll have me.”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Forever, then,” he murmured against your skin.

You sighed contentedly, settling back against his chest. His arms tightened around you.The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours.

Even the next morning, Spencer’s need to stay close to you hadn’t faded.

When you woke up early, you had to practically untangle yourself from his grip, his arms still wrapped tightly around you even in his sleep. You smiled softly as you carefully slipped out of bed, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead.

He looked so peaceful, his face relaxed in a way it hadn’t been in weeks. He deserved to rest, and you weren’t about to wake him.

You padded quietly into the kitchen, the early morning light streaming through the windows. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a genuine smile on your face as you moved around the kitchen.

You hummed softly to yourself as you started making breakfast, the familiar routine feeling almost new again now that Spencer was home. The smell of coffee brewing and eggs sizzling filled the air.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear him come up behind you.

Suddenly, you felt his arms slide around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest. You let out a small, surprised laugh as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“You’re up early,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. His breath tickled your neck, and you could feel the way he nuzzled closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be even a step away from you.

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” you said, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. His lips lingered there for a moment, and you could feel the way he sighed, his body relaxing against yours.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured, his hands tightening slightly around your waist. “I would’ve been happy with just… this.”

You smiled, turning your head to catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes were still half-closed, his hair adorably messy from sleep, and the sight made your heart swell. “I know,” you said softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. “But I wanted to. You deserve something nice after… everything.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away, instead he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, his arms holding you just a little tighter. “You’re too good to me,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something like awe. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You turned in his arms, your hands coming up to cradle his face. His eyes were soft, filled with love and gratitude. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve me, Spencer,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. And then, without a word, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to make up for all the time you’d spent apart.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you said softly, brushing your hands through his hair. “Now, how about we eat before the food gets cold?”

He smiled as he pulled back, and nodded. But instead of letting you go, he kept one arm around your waist as he reached for the plates, refusing to let you get too far.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

A couple days later, Spencer had a spontaneous yet nostalgic idea.

It was well past midnight when Spencer suddenly sat up in bed, his eyes wide and alert as if he’d just had the best idea of his life. You blinked up at him, still half-asleep, as he turned to you with a boyish grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said, his voice low but filled with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, squinting at him in the dim light of the room. “A drive? Right now? Spencer, it’s like… 2 a.m.”

“Exactly,” he said, as if that explained everything. “No traffic, no people, just us. Come on, it’ll be like old times.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm in his voice. Midnight drives had been your thing before everything happened—spontaneous adventures where the two of you would just drive aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing, the world feeling like it belonged only to you.

The thought of doing it again, of reclaiming that little piece of your life together, made your chest warm.

“Okay,” you said, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “But you’re driving. I’m too sleepy to be responsible.”

Spencer’s grin widened, and he practically bounced out of bed, pulling you up with him. He didn’t let go of your hand as he grabbed his keys and led you to the door, his excitement contagious. You couldn’t help but laugh as he practically dragged you to the car.

Once you were both in the car, Spencer reached over to adjust the seat for you, his hand brushing against your leg as he did. He didn’t pull away immediately, his fingers lingering for a moment as if he needed the contact. You smiled, placing your hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

The streets were quiet, the city bathed in the soft glow of streetlights as Spencer drove with no particular destination in mind. Spencer’s hand found yours again, his fingers intertwining with yours as he rested your joined hands on the center console.

“This is nice,” he said after a while, his voice soft. “I missed this. Just… being with you, no pressure, no worries. Just us.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “I missed it too. I missed you.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “I know I keep saying it, but… I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

You shook your head, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Stop apologizing,” you said firmly. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Let’s just enjoy this, okay?”

Spencer nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Okay,” he said, his voice warm. “But just so you know, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long, long time.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

The two of you drove for what felt like hours, the city slowly giving way to quieter roads and open skies. At one point, Spencer pulled over at a lookout point, the stars stretching endlessly above you. He turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, his hand still holding yours.

“Remember the first time we did this?” he asked, his voice soft. “You were so nervous. You kept asking if I was sure I knew how to drive.”

You groaned, covering your face with your free hand. “I was not nervous! I was just… cautiously optimistic.”

Spencer laughed, the sound warm and rich. “You were nervous,” he teased. “But it was cute. And look at you now—completely at ease with my driving skills.”

“Don’t push it,” you said, poking his side. “I’m still cautiously optimistic.”

He grinned, pulling you closer so he could press a kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache.

“I love you too,” you said, leaning into him. “Now, let’s go home before I fall asleep in your car.”

Spencer chuckled, starting the engine again. “Your wish is my command.”

The drive back home was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Spencer’s hand never left yours, his thumb absently tracing circles on the back of your hand as he drove.

Every now and then, he’d glance over at you, a small, content smile playing on his lips, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were really there beside him.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, Spencer turned off the engine but made no move to get out of the car. I

nstead, he sat there for a moment, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he stared out at the entrance of the apartment.

“Hey,” you said softly, turning to face him. “You okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared out at the dark windshield, his fingers tightening around yours.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low.

“There were days when it felt like the walls were closing in,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on some distant point. “Like I was never going to get out of there. I just… I don’t think I could’ve made it through everything without knowing I had you to come back to.”

Your heart ached at his words, a sharp, almost physical pain that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak without your voice breaking, so you just nodded, your hand squeezing his a little tighter.

Your other hand reached up to brush a stray curl away from his forehead, your touch gentle, reassuring. You wanted him to feel how much he meant to you, how much you’d missed him, how much you’d fought to hold onto the hope of this moment.

Spencer leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his gaze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice warm. “For waiting for me. For believing in me.”

You smiled, though your eyes were stinging with tears. “Always,” you said simply, because it was the truth.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Let’s go inside,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “I just… I want to be close to you.”

You nodded, your smile widening as you squeezed his hand. “Lead the way.”

Once inside, Spencer didn’t let go of you. He followed you into the kitchen as you grabbed a glass of water, his hand resting on the small of your back. When you moved to the living room, he was right there with you, his arm draped over your shoulders as you sat down on the couch. And when you finally settled in, leaning against his side with your head on his chest, he let out a content sigh, his fingers gently playing with your hair.

“This is nice,” he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy. “Just… being here with you. I missed this.”

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed it too,” you said, your hand resting on his chest. “But we’ve got all the time in the world to make up for it now.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small smile, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “We do.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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yunholic-jongholic · 2 days ago

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Reaffirming Love and Connection | J.YH x Reader

SUMMARY | Yunho and You engaging in fluffy aftercare following a session of intense, rough sex. Trading kisses and loving words, cleaning each other up, tending to any bruises or the like their play might have left, and overall, just taking the time to reaffirm their relationship and make sure they're both in a good place emotionally.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | One Shot, SMUT, NSFW, Smut without Plot, Explicit Content, Begging, Marking Kink, Hand Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Cursing, Degrading, Praising, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex (Don't do that…), Creampie (Sorry if I missed some!)

WORD COUNT | 1.3k

AUTHOR NOTE | How are my hotteok sister wives feeling? :) Sorry this story goes straight into smut, but you get to the soft fluffiness at the end, and I made sure to make it the other half of the story! <3

•

You were undressing yourself, while your husband Yunho was watching you, he sat on the bed, you felt his eyes all over you as you pulled your skirt off along with your panties. Yunho on the other hand was fully dressed. You felt a bit embarrassed but once you saw Yunho waved his hand for you to go to him, you obeyed and sat on his lap.

"You look beautiful" He exhaled as he felt you shift on top of him causing him to grab ahold of your cheeks to make you look deeply into his eyes. Yunho smirked at your reaction as you still were flustered about being fully naked and him being fully dressed.

"Thank you..." is all you could say. You started feeling heat rush down inside you as he just stared deeply into your eyes. He soon commanded you to rest your body on his lap as he turned you over. You did as he said and soon you felt his hand caress your back causing your spine to shiver. As his hand went lower you felt two fingers rub against your cunt.

"Yunho..." you moan out as he circled his two fingers around your folds. You felt immediate sharp pain and pleasure as he shoved his two fingers deep inside you causing you to let out a gasp. He only smirks at your response and immediately wastes no time digging himself deep into you and penetrating inside.

"You are so tight and wet." Yunho teases you and his other hand reaches you mouth which you are breathing heavily and moaning onto.

"You are already a fucking mess." He curses at you as he stuffs two fingers down your throat causing you to gag around them. He swirls his fingers around your tongue playfully tugging it as if he was fighting with your tongue. You felt his bulge poking you stomach as you try to sit up but felt too weak to even sit up straight.

"You are enjoying this aren't you? Me fucking and using you with only my hands." Yunho groans as you moan and hum in response, tongue still swirling around his fingers until he shoves them deep down your throat.

Yunho took his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from his index finger and your tongue. You are helplessly breathing heavy and moaning as his other hand continues to work against you.

"Yunho, please I need you." You moan digging your nails into his thigh. He smirks and pulls out his two fingers and sets you on your knees in front of him as he looks down at you.

"What do you want from me princess?" You hear his voice now deeper as he calls you princess. You look down as his bulge, knowing now he is desperate himself to be touched.

"I need you." You hum again, your hands now trailing up his thigh. You softly palm at his crotch causing him to groan and grip your hands. Yunho pulls your hand off and he pulls his pants and underwear off letting his cock spring up. Your eyes watch, mouth slightly watering at the sight of him in front of you. Yunho stands up and tells you to get up and go on the bed. You do as he says and ask him which position he wants you to be in.

"For now, on your knees." He tells you getting ready. You get on your knees and place a pillow under your legs and one under your hands to hold onto. Yunho got behind you and pulled you a bit closer to him positioning himself. You felt the tip of his cock press against your folds causing you to shiver lightly at the feeling. Not even a second later, Yunho shoves himself deep into you causing you to gasp and scream out. He doesn't waste time before slamming into you and as he starts, Yunho grips onto your neck pulling you towards him and holds you against his chest.

"Yunho!" You moan as he grips onto your chin and cheeks. His other hand slides up your body and holds you up. You place your hands on his arm and dig your nails into his arm as he thrusts deeply into you. He groans in your ear causing you to shiver again. He buries his face against your neck nibbling on your skin.

"You are so warm." Yunho huffs out, you felt his teeth sink in your skin leaving bite marks. He threw you down on the bed pressing your back on the bed holding your hips gripping them harshly. You knew there will be bruises tomorrow.

"Yunho please!" You moan against the pillow gripping it as he slams deep into you stretching you out more and more. No matter how many times you both have sex, you always felt like it was your first time with him since he would always stretch you out.

Yunho pulled you back up holding your neck again as you became a moaning mess grinding your hips against him begging him for more. His grip tightened around your neck as he placed two fingers on your bottom lips. You only could moan helplessly letting him do whatever to you. Yunho shoved his two fingers down your throat causing you to moan and gag around them.

"You are so fucking perfect." He curses in your ear. You felt your insides pulsing and your stomach going into knots.

"You are my perfect girl." Yunho kisses your tears away as you whimpered at the intense feeling. Your body couldn't take it anymore, becoming a moaning wet mess. He took his fingers out placing them back around your neck. saliva was attached and dripping from your lips onto his fingers.

"I want you to go to work tomorrow and show how fucked you were by your husband tonight." He caresses your hips with his other hand and touches his own markings on your neck.

"I am going to lose it, Yunho." You moan out finally being tipped over the edge. You came on him and he was soon to be next. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he thrusted deeply into you and came inside soon after you. You felt hot and sweaty falling straight onto the bed panting. He pulled out and helped you up on his lap holding you.

You still had tears in your eyes, you felt exhausted, but he started comforting you. He kissed your lips softly caressing your face wiping your tears away.

"I love you so much." He leaves feathery kisses against your lips causing you to giggle at how soft he is always after sex.

"I love you too." You poke his cheek, and he smiles at you. You rest your hands on his shoulders looking into his eyes.

"I didn't hurt you tonight, right?" He asks a bit worried you were crying because he caused pain on you, but you reassured him he didn't hurt you in any way to be mean. He sometimes does get carried away during sex, but he makes sure at the end that he is caring and sweet towards you, making sure that he loves you and doesn't want to lose you. He notices his bite marks were a little too deep and apologizes for how he was. You soon see him lean down and kiss the bruises and bites he did on you.

"Yunho..." you hum telling him it's okay. He carries you to take a shower with him to clean you both up. Once both cleaned up you get dressed in cozy pajamas together and flop on the bed. You lay down and he wraps his arms around you resting his head on your chest.

"You are like a giant puppy. I can't breathe!" You jokingly tease him as he just lays on top of you. "Well stop having a comfortable chest for me to lay on." He murmurs. You sigh and ruffle his hair running your fingers in just helping him relax more.

"God made you too perfect for me." he mutters underneath his breath. You kiss his forehead calling him cute, Yunho sinks in on top of you and slowly falls asleep.

•

My GOD. My requests are so backed up, this was requested by another fellow hotteok wife who is like my sugar mommy lol. Love u M! <3

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho smut #yunho smut #ateez yunho x reader #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #ateez fanfic

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yinyuedijun · 11 hours ago

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LENA UR TAGS... I WILL CRY FR

had to immortalize these tags here forever I fear hope u don't mind. slsjwkdjaks

thank you for reading this despite being an anime only LMAO I can only imagine how disorienting it must have been given that your only context was e.e. = tighty whities 😭😭😭 SO GLAD you liked how I approached the character voices! I was indeed trying to make the evil eye kind of childish, in the sense that he has one-dimensional and simplistic take on everything that is a more sensory experience (sex, or drinking Pampy, or "playing"/sparring - he likes that stuff and that's about it).

AND YEAH JIJI 😭 sorry for the insane lore drop AGLSJSKDJS most of that you'll learn in canon + some of it was a headcanon. I won't say which is which. season 2 will be a whammy I fear 💔

"ee has been reading like a shy tsundere to me" is so funny to me HRFLSJKSKHAHAH I got sick of writing yandere ghost types so I went for something new this time 😭 also NOT THE CAT SALAD MEME GLDJSKSJS I'm glad that refrain landed well <3333 turbo granny is my FAVE as well also - I'm so glad you enjoyed her banana threat LMAO

ALSO!!!! I am!! so glad more than anything else that you enjoyed the relationship dynamics. the insecurity of the reader, along with the parallel between her feelings of inadequacy with jiji vs. evil eye's feelings for her were probably the two most central things to the narrative. this is ultimately a fic about not really knowing how to love someone the right way but trying to make it work despite it all!!! along with the crazy ghost sex ofc (CACKLED @ you blacking out wsjsjjsha).

thank you SOOOO MUCH for reading and 10x for the yap <3333 I TRULY ADORE U!!!!! THANK U LENA!!!

FUNERAL MARCH | evil eye x fem!reader x jiji

The Evil Eye doesn't love you. It's not in his nature as a demon, and he's not sure that it was in his nature as a human either. He wasn't loved and couldn’t love, and that's why he was given to the Tsuchinoko. But he likes to possess you nevertheless, and he often thinks about cursing you so that you’re bound to him. It would be the only way to keep you, because you probably don't love him, either—no human would embrace such a horrid and ugly existence. You just love the Vessel he inhabits. (Or: You and Jiji are now engaged. Of course, you have to ask the Evil Eye to marry you too.)

10.8k words. romance, smut, mild angst & comedy. rough sex with the Evil Eye (piv, creampie, overstimulation, bizarre magic, cnc elements in the “nooo it's too much” kind of way, dubcon with the magic). content warnings: aged up characterization, implied past sexual abuse (not involving Jiji or Evil Eye), brief mentions of suicidality, religious references (Taoist ghost marriage), use of English idioms that don't translate well into Japanese (forgive me), canon-typical crass humour. mdni.

I. THE GHOST

You’re in love with his Vessel.

The Evil Eye is well-aware of this. He hadn't known love as a human, but he saw it often enough in the House. Countless families moved in over the years, husbands and wives with little children who were frightened when he tried to play with them. After photography was invented, pictures lined the walls and decorated nightstands. They immortalized brides in their white kimono, grooms with their wide smiles, elegant ceremonies, decadent banquets.

The couples always looked like they were having so much fun, the Evil Eye noticed. Not just in the photos, but in their daily lives in the House—dancing with each other, pressing their lips together, laughing and singing and holding each other. Then they'd die together, hanging themselves because of that shitty worm. The Evil Eye always felt a kind of sadness seeing them in love—he’d never had that, and he'd never get it, and it was unfair in a way that filled him with a searing rage.

But he was even angrier when they died.

It used to make him angry too, when you talked about the Vessel. When he took over and he caught you laughing at something the Vessel had said, or dancing with him, or pressing your lips together. (Kissing, you’d told him the first time it happened. It's called kissing someone, when you do that.)

Then you started kissing the Evil Eye too, and suddenly he wasn't so angry anymore—the latent rage in him for once eased.

Still, it makes him feel sullen when you tell him, “Jiji and I want to get married.”

You are lying next to him in bed. Sweat is cooling on your naked body—you always get so hot when you and the Vessel get into bed with each other, or sometimes when he’s got you bent over the dining room table, or occasionally when you touch each other in that place you call the ‘locker room’, which tends to leave you extra breathless. No matter the place or the time, you’re always lighthearted, glowing, satisfied. It's the effect that the Vessel has when he’s inside you.

(Sex, you told the Evil Eye once, it's called having sex. Or making love. Not all sex is making love, but it's making love the way that Jiji and I do it. And then the Evil Eye demanded that you show him what exactly that meant, and that's when you took him inside you for the first time. He felt so good and so close with you that for a while, it was all he wanted to do.

Wants to do.)

“What does that mean,” the Evil Eye asks, although he has a good idea. You want to live in a House with the Vessel and laugh and sing and hold each other. You want to die together too, probably, your corpses hanging side-by-side from the same bannister.

“It means we’re going to dress up and make vows to spend the rest of our lives together,” you say. “And we’ll live together and build a home and maybe we’ll have babies too.”

The Evil Eye thinks of all those babies who lived in the House, impossibly tiny humans who were cradled by their mothers before they were burned alive as sacrifices. Before he became the Evil Eye—back when he was merely the ghost of a waif—he’d tried to play with them too, making silly faces and dancing as they giggled at him. He liked to pretend that they were his younger sisters or brothers, but sometimes he wondered how it'd feel to hold them and sing to them like their parents did. How it'd feel if he were a husband with a wife and a kid, what it would be like to dance with someone in the kitchen or tuck a child away into its cradle.

But every time he tried to pick the babies up, his hands would pass right through them. Kind-hearted ghosts can't love people in such a physical way; you need to be vengeful to hold onto anything. He'd had to learn to hate all humans before being able to touch them again, and now he's so rife with hatred that he can't love them anyway. All he can do is haunt them.

The Evil Eye doesn't love you. It's not in his nature as a demon, and he's not sure that it was in his nature as a human. He wasn't loved and couldn’t love, and that's why he was given to the Tsuchinoko. But he likes to possess you nevertheless, and he often thinks about cursing you so that you’re bound to him. It would be the only way to keep you, because you probably don't love him, either—no human would embrace such a horrid and ugly existence. You just love the Vessel he inhabits, and that's why he can kiss you and that's why he can hold you and that's why he’s allowed to sex with you (sex, not love—you've never called it making love when you do it with him, and you never look lighthearted after, and you never glow from his touch: he always leaves you panting, marked up, bruised, possessed).

You love the Vessel, so it makes sense that you would want to do all that with him: live in a House together and make babies together and eventually die together.

“Oh,” he says. “Sounds fun.”

You laugh. “Yes, I hope it'll be.” Then you lace your fingers with his, and look at him in a tender way that he'll probably never get used to. In a tender way that's meant for the Vessel.

“So, then,” you say almost shyly, “Do you wanna marry me too?”

II. THE VESSEL

Auntie Seiko is as beautiful, young, and no-nonsense as ever. Between meeting her as a child, coming into her care as a teenager, and now seeking her help as an adult, Jiji doesn't think she's ever changed. Most familiar to him right now is the expression that she’s wearing, the one that suggests that he might have shit for brains. Turbo Granny, perched on her shoulder, seems equally bemused, her porcelain cat eyes narrowed into judgemental slits. He'd been hoping that Momo and Okarun would understand his feelings, but they seem equally exasperated—Momo might even be a little appalled.

Anyone else might be disheartened by this reaction, but Jiji is undeterred. These are the people who once realised his wish to protect the Evil Eye; surely, they’ll also realise his wish for him to find happiness.

“—so we talked to him, right? Or my beautiful wifey talked to him, anyway—”

“We're not married yet, Jiji,” you interrupt dryly. “Don’t call me that.”

“—my future beautiful wifey talked to him about getting married, and he said yes! I'm on board. I think they should get a proper ceremony and everything. I know it's a little unconventional since she’ll be marrying me too, but I don't mind sharing, and I'd be willing to work out any legal issues. I'm sure we can find a country where polygamy is allowed.”

“Don’t you think the bigger problem is that he's an evil spirit?!” Momo asks—yells—but Jiji only shrugs.

“Evil or not, don't you think he deserves love and romance just as much as anyone else?”

“No!”

Jiji supposes that he can't blame Momo for her reaction, given how many times the Evil Eye has nearly killed her. Deeming her a lost cause, he turns his gaze on her boyfriend instead, almost puppy-like.

“Don’t you think so, Okarun?”

“Not really,” he admits, and Jiji nearly wilts at the betrayal before he adds, “but I understand where you're coming from. The Evil Eye was like a child when he first possessed you; his greatest wish was to find a friend to play with. Now he's basically a young man who's found his first love and his greatest wish is to be with her… and she, um, happens to be your wifey…”

“Don’t call me that!” you protest, oddly embarrassed, and Jiji resists the urge to squeeze you. You're so cute when you're flustered, it's unbearable. He makes a mental note to tell you this on the way home, though he already does this every day as a rule. When you were both still students, he would say it whenever he walked you home from school; nowadays, he more often says it during long-distance phone calls, or on FaceTime, or occasionally via text if your schedules are that misaligned. But he still makes it a point to remind you everyday, no matter where he is in the world: You're so cute. You're so pretty. You're beautiful, did you know that? I love you.

I love you, he thinks as he watches you. You look bashful right now. “We both want the Evil Eye to find happiness, and I’m pretty sure marriage will make him happy. And, well…” Your gaze drops. “It’d make me pretty happy too.”

Something in Jiji’s chest swells when he sees your expression. It feels mostly sweet, but there's also a painful edge to it. He’s always carried a kind of ache in his ribs ever since the day he caught his parents dangling from the second floor of the House and had to untie the nooses himself. Nowadays, he isn't sure if the pain is from that memory or if it's from the weight of the Evil Eye’s curse. Sometimes it feels like they're one and the same. Often it feels suffocating, like he's drowning and there's nothing he can do to breathe again—not laughing or joking or playing or running.

But you're always there when it’s hard. You're always beside him when he wakes up in the middle of the night to gasp for air, the way he used to when he was haunted as a teenager: It's okay, Jiji, you tell him, voice tender, I'm here for you. You aren't alone. I won't leave you. I won't let anything hurt you. I love you. The nightmares always leave him soaked in cold sweat, so he often switches in these moments, his consciousness displaced by a lonely, crying spirit. He doesn't know what it is you say to the Evil Eye, but when he comes back his heart feels lighter, and from that he knows that you've comforted him too.

The Evil Eye loves you—that much is clear. He loves you as much as Jiji does, probably. In a different way, sure, but just as much in strength.

It follows that nothing would make the Evil Eye happier in this world than getting married to you, Jiji figures. Dead or alive, who wouldn't be elated to marry the love of their life? And Jiji knows it'd make you equally as happy; only an idiot would think that you didn't love the Evil Eye back, and he's no fool. Some people might find it weird that he wants his wife to marry another man—and an evil spirit, at that—and maybe they're right for that. But why would Jiji ever turn down so much collective joy?

So he nods vigorously, giving Momo an intense look. “It'd make us all happy. Trust us!”

Momo gives you both a long, disbelieving stare.

“Well, when you put it that way…” She sighs, resigned. “When’s the wedding?”

“That's what we wanted your help with,” Jiji says, and he gives her grandmother an earnest look. “We want the wedding to be perfect, but we're not really sure how a ceremony would work with a youkai. What dates to choose, what venue to book, who could perform the rites… I mean, could you perform the rites, Ma’am?”

Auntie Seiko frowns. She looks on the verge of admonishing both of you, but Turbo Granny beats her to it: “Idiots. You can't do a Shinto ceremony with the Evil Eye. All three of you will combust into flames.”

“Oh.” Jiji remembers all the aliens and spirits alike that have burned upon attempting to chase them into the shrine grounds. He deflates. “Then… he can't get married?”

You squeeze his hand, and Jiji suspects that it's more for him than yourself. You don't seem nearly so worried.

“Would a Buddhist temple take us?” you ask.

“Doubt it,” Auntie Seiko says around her cigarette. “They’d probably try to exorcise your hubby on the spot—and even if they didn't, no Buddhist priest here would ever stand for tying the spirit of the deceased to a living person. It's how you get hauntings.”

“I don't mind being haunted by the Evil Eye,” you say immediately, and Auntie Seiko snorts.

“I know you don't, but it’s not in our job descriptions to curse people just because they're horny for a ghost.” Momo and Okarun cough loudly, and Jiji feels himself flushing; you cover your face with your hands. “I know a Chinese Taoist who’s done a few ghost marriages, though.”

“They’re okay with cursing people?” you ask, watching her through your fingers. “I mean—not that I mind.”

“Nah—they perform it as a pacification ritual. It would be the safest way to do something like this.” Auntie Seiko studies you closely. “I'm not sure how my acquaintance would react to an evil spirit or to polygamy, but I’ll call him and ask.”

“You're the best, Ma’am!” Jiji bursts, beaming. “We’ll save you an honoured spot in the front row! Turbo Granny too!” Elders should be respected, after all.

Turbo Granny makes a skeptical noise. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, numbnuts. Even if Seiko can find a priest stupid enough to oversee this wedding, there’s something you need that you probably can't find.”

“If we could find Okarun’s balls, I’m sure we can find anything,” you joke, but Granny seems unimpressed, her paws crossed over her chest.

Jiji frowns. “What exactly do we need to get?”

Turbo Granny gives you both an ominous look.

“His bones.”

III. THE CHILD

The Evil Eye hates being in the House.

All the spirits that he carries hate it too, airy things pulsing with rage and sadness and grief so palpable that he can always easily weaponise it. Any good memories that were ever constructed in the House are eclipsed by the hangings, the knife wounds, the suffocation, and also the burnings. Especially the burnings. Especially the white-hot lava washing over him, eating into his flesh—especially his last few days as a twitching, starving, dying thing on a stake; especially being buried, then the House being built atop his remains. Then all the children and babies sacrificed after him, wailing and screaming: unfair this is unfair let me go let me go let me go it hurts it hurts it hurts please stop this please help me Mom Mommy please help me please come back I don't want to die.

Doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?

He isn't ordinarily bothered by rage; he was born of it, after all. But he doesn't like feeling so much rage around you. The Evil Eye likes haunting you and will probably someday curse you—both things he once did to the families in this House—but he doesn't want to kill you.

He glances around the basement—the man cursed by Turbo Granny is here, and so is his lover. (Girlfriend, you’d called her. Momo is Okarun’s girlfriend, just like how I'm Jiji’s. You agree to be someone’s girlfriend when you have feelings for them and want to act on them. A-ah—what? Y-yes, I do have feelings for Jiji… Why do you ask?) The dancer and the Shinto priestess aren't here, and neither is the girl with the lizard suit, but they aren't needed.

If he tries to kill you, Okarun alone could probably stop him. This is the only reason that the Evil Eye agreed to let you come in the first place.

“This is so gross,” you whine, completely oblivious. You're knee-deep in the white gunk left by that shitty Tsuchinoko worm. “I can't believe you spent a whole day buried in this stuff, Okarun.”

“It saved me and Turbo Granny,” he replies, pushing his glasses up as he digs through the mess with you. “The lava would have gotten to us otherwise. I think it probably preserved the Evil Eye’s bones too.”

“I hope so…” You turn to the Evil Eye, head tilted. “Are you sure they're here, Jashi?”

Jashi. You say his title like it's name and not a curse. (Jashi, we should go try out this cafe, you'll say, or, Jashi, let’s go check out this show, or, I missed you, Jashi, it's been too long—here, can you feel how much I need you?) Sometimes he wonders if you ever forget that he's a ghost, or if using this Vessel fools you into thinking that he's human. If you lay beneath him in bed thinking that it's technically the Vessel inside you, and not just the monster possessing him.

“I’m a ghost,” he reminds you bluntly, “‘course I know where my remains are. Dunno if they've turned ash, though. Guess you can't marry me if they have.”

“No, we’ll get married,” you say, unbothered. “I'll dig up all the dirt from this shithole and say my vows to that if I have to.”

Okarun gives you a funny look. “How are you gonna get all that dirt out?” he asks.

“I'll make you carry it.”

“Huh? Says who?”

“Says Momo. He’ll help me carry it, right?”

“He will,” Momo affirms, and her boyfriend chokes. She ignores him, scanning the wreckage. “I hope it doesn't come to that, though. Hey, Evil Eye—can’t you be more specific with where we're supposed to dig? Coordinates or a map would be nice.”

“I'm not a fucking radar!”

You give him a pleading look. “Please, Jashi? Can't you try? For your future wifey?”

The Vessel's face gets hot. Its heart does the stupid thing where it jumps when you're around, or when he holds you after the two of you have sex, or when he stares too long at the engagement ring that's usually on your finger (now hanging around your neck on a silver chain, safely away from Tsuchinoko gunk).

“...fine. Gimme a sec.”

He closes the two eyes of the Vessel so that he can focus on his third. Human vision is too bound by shapes and light and figures; it distracts and deceives him. When he can't see your face, it becomes easier to hone in on his resentment. Unfair, his remains whisper to him, this is unfair let me go it hurts it hurts please stop please stop help me help me help me I don't want to die.

Doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?

“There,” he says eventually, pointing at the ground, “it's all there. In one spot. Guess I'm still a skeleton.”

You've got something of a sixth sense—whether it’s an effect of touching the golden ball or coupling so often with a spirit, the Evil Eye can't be sure. However it came about, it seems to tell you that he's right. Your eyes go soft when you rest a hand on the dirt he’s pointed at.

“Momo, Okarun,” you say, “Thank you for your help. I can dig this up myself—you guys can take a break.”

“Huh? No, we’d be happy to…” Okarun starts, but then Momo’s dragging him out by the collar and making him squawk.

“Sure—we’ll wait outside!” she says. “C’mon, Okarun, let's look for Mongolian Death Worm remains—I saw an occult article saying that it has medicinal properties if you make a powder extract from it…”

“You can't take that stuff seriously, Miss Ayase…”

After they leave, you spend the rest of the afternoon digging.

The Evil Eye offers to help, but you are determined to do it yourself. It's okay, Jashi, you say, I’m going to do it. You're going to be my hubby—the Vessel’s heart does the throbbing thing again—so it's only right that I'm the one to unearth you.

He doesn't understand it, but he shrugs anyway. Suit yourself. And he watches as you your fingers dig into the dirt, delicate nails collecting detritus. You don't want to use a shovel, you say, because you're sure that his bones will be fragile and you don't want to damage them. Even when he tells you that his bones are likely ruined in the first place, burned to shit and frail from rot, you don't let up. You just keep digging until you’re picking them out of the dirt.

You roll out a silk cloth, revealing lotuses against a pale backdrop. One by one, you lay his bones atop the pink and ivory thread, and you've found about half of them before he realises that you're reconstructing his skeleton. It's a small, pathetic thing. Help me help me I don't want to die, he can remember himself screaming. It hurts it hurts it hurts please stop. Doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?

The ghosts of the House begin to wail with rage.

Part of him worries for you—probably the part of him influenced by the Vessel, which is capable of a love that ghosts are not. It knows that you don't deserve his wrath.

“You should leave,” he says, but you shake your head. You take your time as you gather up bones, treating them all delicately as you roll them up in the silk, holding them close to you. As if you aren't in the presence of countless wrathful spirits. As if you are with the Vessel, and not with him.

“You were so small,” you say quietly. “Sometimes I forget that you were a child when you died.”

The Evil Eye stares at you, at the pathetic bundle in your hands. “That was ages ago.”

“But it never stops hurting, doesn't it?” you say, and the walls of the House close in on him. They tell him you're right, that you're a human, that you'll hurt him just like the rest of them, that you need to die too. But you look at him, soft in a way that belongs to the Vessel, tender in a way that the waif-ghost covets, and then the House shudders and goes quiet.

“I’m sorry I didn't help you back then,” you say, and it makes no sense, but he doesn't interrupt you. “I promise I'll make your married life a good one, now that we’re together.”

That's stupid, the Evil Eye thinks of saying, pedantic: I'm already dead. But you rise from the dirt before he can protest, and then you're taking his bones out of the House, cradling him in your arms.

Doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?

For the first time since being born, his body is allowed to leave the confines of its prison.

IV. THE BRIDE

The ceremony happens at night.

You spend the whole day readying yourself. Aira helps you get into your dress, admonishing you for the satanic rituals you'll soon perform but giving you her blessing anyway. Momo does your makeup, telling you to ignore Aira. Vamola says that you look lovely in stilted, earnest Japanese. Auntie Seiko helps you with your hair; she asks you, all the while, if you would like to wear a headdress that might protect you from evil, or for her to perform a consecration on your body. Turbo Granny is less roundabout, offering to take the Evil Eye’s banana in advance of your marital rites. Serpo warns you not to let the Evil Eye take your bananas—Why are you even here!? Momo yells at him—and Reiko Kashima says you shouldn't listen to any of them. You need to hold onto your man no matter what, she advises.

She also says you're beautiful, though of course you aren't as beautiful as her.

Beautiful. Are you beautiful? You'll be beautiful when you marry Jiji, because you're certain that his PR agent will want you prettied up by a team of stylists rather than a bunch of goofballs. You will need to look good for the photos, at least as handsome as him, and you don't know if you can manage that. You will need to be poised in front of the five hundred people attending, about which ten are your friends and none of which are your family.

You're already married to Jiji, technically. The two of you had a civil ceremony that only Momo and Okarun attended as witnesses, quick and dirty and secret. But the official ceremony will make it real, and you are terrified of that. You love Jiji beyond comprehension, and you know he loves you back tenfold, but you've never been able to rid yourself of the small voice in your head that tells you that you aren't good enough for him. It's been haunting you ever since the two of you fell in love, and you think maybe even before that. Maybe it started plaguing you when you were young.

When you were a child, you used to ask yourself if anyone would ever love you enough to save you from the things being done to you—the things you were convinced would be irreversible. You had confessed this to Jiji before you had sex with him for the first time. (Making love, he corrected you, I want to make love with you, and it made you feel so shy you nearly kicked him out of your bed.) He'd replied that he did love you enough, and that he would save you as many times as you wanted (I’m sorry I couldn't help you back then, he'd added nonsensically, but now that we’re together, I'll make sure your life is a good one), and you were so happy that you cried.

Sometimes you still cry, thinking about his words. But no matter how many times you replay the memory, no matter how often you tell yourself that Jiji is an honest man, the small voice in your head always warns that he’d lied to you. That your wedding to him will be a lie, too.

You often think about how he would leave you (gently), and why he would leave you (the list is endless). And then you try to imagine life without him—no cheerful kisses peppering your features, no goofy expressions putting you in stitches, no grueling morning runs, no messy kitchen sinks, no you're the cutest girl in the world, you're so beautiful I can't believe I'm dating you, how come you don't believe me when I say that stuff, I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, I know you can get better I'll help you, I dunno how to talk about this with anyone other than you, sorry I cried that was kinda lame of me, sorry I need to go to Spain, sorry I was away for so long, I got you this merch, I got us tickets to this show, is it my fault you're going to therapy again, can you come with me to Berlin, is everything okay, come with me to the U.S., are you okay, are we okay, I don't want to break up, I love you, I love you so much, marry me, I'm being serious please marry me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I promise I won't leave you—

You don't think you could imagine living without Jiji.

Your looming wedding to Jiji terrifies you, but your ghost marriage does not. You feel calm in your dress, certain in your decision. Jashi has never scared you the way that Jiji has, after all. He doesn't frighten you even when the Taoist priest pulls you aside and tells you, “You can still back out of this.”

“Why would I?”

He dabs at his temples with a handkerchief. “This ritual is dangerous with a being like the Evil Eye. Ghost marriages are meant to pacify benign spirits—not vengeful ghosts. I can't guarantee that he will be calmed by this.”

You give him a quizzical look. “If he isn't calmed, then what would happen?”

The priest swallows. “There are three potential outcomes. One—he is pacified completely and moves on to the afterlife.”

This would scare you ordinarily, but you know Jashi well enough to understand that he would never move on. “Okay. What else?”

“Two—he is unaffected, and things remain the same.”

You wait, watching the way his fingers tremble. A wind blows; it carries the scent of burning sandalwood from the wedding altar.

“And?”

“And three—the most likely possibility—he will attach himself to you and curse you.”

“Oh.” The thought should scare you, but you don't think it's fear that’s squeezing your heart. “What would a curse be like?”

“Devastating. You'll never be able to live a normal life, nor will you have a proper afterlife.” The priest shudders at this possibility, which apparently frightens him too much to further describe. “Listen—if the Evil Eye doesn't pass on, you must not complete the marriage. Completing it would make the attachment permanent, and it would realise any curse he places upon you.”

“‘Completing the marriage”?”

“Consummating it.” His face is white. “Sex magic is unspeakably powerful. I don't believe anyone would be able to break a curse that’s born from it—at least not involving such a great yaoguai.”

Anyone else might laugh at his words, but you remain quiet. After spending so long chasing golden balls and bananas, after nearly a decade of fighting off aliens trying to have sex with Momo and Aira, you know that he is telling the truth.

And besides—you know just how permanently a touch can linger (a lifetime, forever, doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?), so you aren't surprised to hear the kind of curse it inflicts.

“Okay,” you say. “I promise I won't let it happen.”

It is only with this vow that the Taoist consents to overseeing the marriage.

The affair is a hodgepodge of Chinese funerary practices and Western weddings—foreign in every respect, but not uncomfortable. Auntie Seiko, clad in red-and-white robes and a golden headdress, walks you down the aisle. Against all her counsel, a white veil sits atop your head and chases after your shoulders. You stop before an altar of offerings and summoning talismans, Taoist spells lit up by the full moon hanged above. Instead of a bridegroom, you are next to a coffin that holds a tiny skeleton. The priest is before you, now possessed by a death god that will call Jashi back to his remains. Supposedly it is a Taoist deity, but its presence feels more extraterrestrial to you than anything spiritual. You will need to ask Serpo about it later.

You study the audience as the priest begins the summoning ritual. Jiji sits in the front row, watching you intently; if all goes well, Jashi will leave his body for the duration of the ceremony, along with all the vengeful ghosts that once resided in the sacrificial house with him. The spirits of the house scare you more than Jashi; you do not know how they will behave once cleaved from his control. There's a banquet for them in the back, a long table with a spread of incense, flowers, rice, and fruit—but you do not know if it will be enough to pacify them.

Your wedding party is equally on edge. As the White Impermanence begins its rituals, Jiji’s body slumps, and everyone else stiffens in their seats. The air grows rife with malevolence. The stars and moon blink out of existence, the world around you grows silent, and a suffocating darkness overtakes the night—almost as if you have been submerged in Empty Space. Tiny cyan flames erupt in the air around the banquet table, their glow eerie in the darkness. They must all be onibi, you guess.

Jashi himself emerges before you, standing over the coffin that holds his bones. You’d expected him to look like the emaciated child that he'd died as, or perhaps the stick-thin monster that used to haunt Jiji—but he takes another form altogether, a formless shadow that your mind can barely comprehend. You're vaguely aware of Turbo Granny covering Momo’s eyes, Okarun transforming, Auntie Seiko readying her bat—but you don't look at any of them. You only stare, as if in a trance, at the single vertical eye that is now peering at you from the darkness.

It is probably strange that you feel so calm. If you were a normal person, you'd probably run from your wedding altar of incense and offerings. Or, actually—if you were a normal person, your mind would be fraying at the edges, gripped by a desire to self-destruct. You would sob and beg the Evil Eye to lift its gaze and let you go and to return to you your life.

But you are not a normal person. The Evil Eye has never really made you feel particularly suicidal, nor have you ever really wanted to beg for your life before it. Your gaze is calm as you recite your vows from memory:

I shall marry this man. No matter what tragedies may arise, I will love this person, respect this person, console this person, help this person—until death, and beyond it. I swear these things before the gods.

When the Evil Eye makes his vows, it is in speech that human ears cannot understand. From the wedding banquet, the spirits of the house cry, their wails cacophonous and wrathful, and suddenly you realise that something has gone terribly wrong. Something has changed with this ghost wedding, and not for the better, but when Seiko rises from her seat, you raise a hand.

Finally, the Evil Eye recedes. The darkness lifts, although the spirits linger. Jiji’s eyes flutter open, immediately anxious and disturbed. You give him a reassuring smile—and the rest of your wedding party, too.

Something has gone terribly wrong. Still, you go about your business cheerfully. You thank the Taoist priest, and you insist to him that you will clean up the altar yourself. You greet your friends and say that they should head for the reception, which will have food for humans rather than ghosts. You peck Jiji on the cheek, beaming at him, and he relaxes and congratulates you.

He cups your face tenderly, kisses you on the nose. “You look happy,” he says.

Something has gone terribly wrong, but you still smile and tell him, “Yes.”

V. THE OFFERING

Your marriage bed is an altar.

Ivory petals are scattered across the bed, along with whole lilies and chrysanthemums. Sweetness permeates the room, carried by the smoke of burning incense. Flames dance upon red candles, flickering as they cast a gentle, soft light. This is your attempt to set an intimate mood, but the Evil Eye does not feel any form of love—he only knows greed. Every object in this room is an offering for the dead, meant for ghosts to consume, and you are the greatest offering of all, waiting for him on the centre of the bed in white silk. You are more fragrant than any joss, riper than any fruit, and he is the most ravenous ghost in existence.

“Isn't this romantic?” you say, beaming at him, and this is when the Evil Eye understands that he absolutely cannot have sex with you.

The wedding was meant to pacify him, perhaps even allow him to move on, but it only did the opposite. Seeing you before him at the altar, vowing to spend a lifetime with him despite all his resentment and ugliness made bare—it only made him more covetous. To move on would be to give up all the love you’ve offered him, the kind of love he'd been denied his whole life.

The kind of love he cannot return.

But he wants it anyway. And like any ghost, he’ll take it—take your love, your heart, your body, your life—if he is allowed to spread your legs and fuck you.

He knows this intuitively, although Turbo Granny also told him this. If you care for her even a little bit, she'd groused, you won’t go through with it. Then she'd threatened to take his banana and his nuts.

But vengeful spirits cannot care for human beings, not truly. It's a wonder that the Evil Eye is hesitating at all, why he feels a pit when he thinks about trapping you. It must be a consequence of his Vessel, who loves you so selflessly that even his body resists hurting you.

“We shouldn’t do it,” he says outright. You blink at him.

“Why?” You tilt your head. “...are you getting wedding night jitters? Do ghosts get nervous?”

He stares at you, uncomprehending. “What? No! I'm not fucking nervous!”

You frown. “Then what's the matter?”

It'll be dangerous for you, he tries to say, but then you're giving him a shy look and untying the sash around your waist. He swallows as the silk robe drops around your shoulders, pools around your thighs. The ivory lace covering your breasts and your core is so sheer that he can practically see through it. It's delicate, pretty—and he wants nothing more than to tear it off and ruin you.

“Don’t you”—you look so flustered, so cute, an echo tells him—“don’t you wanna make love to your wifey?”

Part of him thinks he might cum in his pants. The other part of him wants to leave. Wifey, making love—those are all words that you use on the Vessel. All words that are meant for the Vessel. You're confusing the Evil Eye with your real lover, under the delusion that he is human, unaware that you're being haunted. The Evil Eye is not the man you wish to marry, to live in a House with, to make babies with, to grow old with.

Unfair unfair unfair it hurts it hurts it hurts please please please I don't want to die. I don't want you to die. Why can't I touch you? Why can't I hold you? Please please please—

“I can't.”

Your brow arches. “What do you mean?”

“I can't make love to you.” He pauses, feels a kind of frustration bubbling up when you give him a confused look. “I don't love you.”

Your mouth opens, and you make a faint, strangled noise before asking, “What?”

“I don't love you.”

It takes a moment. You stare at him; you look down; you close your eyes. Your shoulders shake. You'll probably get angry and throw him out, or you'll just calmly ask him to leave. However you do it, you would cast him out, and it would be for the better. You would remain uncursed, free to live out a proper life with the Vessel, and the Evil Eye would get to keep his nuts.

But instead of doing either of those things, you start sniffling—and all the blood leaves his face.

“You”—your voice is so fragile, and it cracks and breaks and his throat feels like it's closing up—“what do you mean you don't love me?”

The Evil Eye's mouth drops open as you start to sob. “W-wait, wait—why are you crying? Don’t cry!”

You start to wail. “You don't love me! I just married you and you don't love me! How am I not supposed to cry?” Between hiccups and sniffs, you pick up one of the pillows and throw it at him. He's paralyzed, forgets to dodge, and it hits him square in the face. “What did I do wrong?!”

“Nothing!” he yells. His heart is pounding. It's squeezing and twisting and it feels so bad that he nearly wants to dispossess the Vessel. “You didn't do anything wrong! It's not you! It's—”

“If you say ‘It’s not you, it's me’, I'll kill you! I'll really kill you!”

“I’m already dead!”

“Then I'll beat your ass!”

“You can't beat my ass! You're not strong enough!”

“Then I'll banish you! I'll spray Jiji with hot water everyday and I won't let you come out! Not even to have Pampy! Not even to play with Okarun!”

The Evil Eye’s mouth drops open. “That's fucking mean!”

“You're fucking mean!” You look at him, and your gaze is so watery and pained that the Evil Eye can't help but go to you. He doesn't realise that he's wiping away your tears until his fingers are wet, and he can’t find it in himself to push you away when you press your face into his shoulder and cling to him. His arms—no, the Vessel’s arms; it must be the Vessel doing this—tighten around you.

“Why—why don't you love me?” you whine between hiccups, and the Evil Eye should call you foolish for expecting him, a spirit who intends to kill all of mankind, to ever love a human. To think that you could spend all these years around him and be so delusional about his true nature—is it that you've forgotten that he drives people to suicide? That his intent is to someday kill all of you, after killing Okarun? The spirits of the House scream at him to grab your face and force you to look at his hideous third eye, to remind you of what he is, to say you're a human you should die like the rest of them you’re as guilty as all of them, you would lock me in a cage too, you would burn me alive and bury my bones beneath a House.

Instead, he rubs your back until your breath begins to even out. And rather than grabbing you and threatening you, he clears his throat.

“I'm… a vengeful spirit,” he says lamely. “Love just isn't something that's in our nature.”

“Why not?” you sniff.

“‘cause if it were, we wouldn't be vengeful. We wouldn't even be ghosts in the first place, probably.”

“B-but,” you whimper, “we've been dating for so long. We live together and sleep together and eat together. You take care of me and I take care of you. We go on dates and hold hands. We even have sex—like, a lot of sex. You initiate it!” You sound accusatory, and the Evil Eye doesn't understand why. Of course he wants to have sex with you; it's one of the most addictive things about having this body. The part of the living world he wants most, nowadays. “If you didn't feel anything for me, why would you do any of that?”

He bristles. “Of course I feel something for you,” the Evil Eye says, oddly agitated. “Just ‘cause I can't love doesn't mean I can't feel. Resentment is what anchors ghosts to this world in the first place.”

“Then what do you feel for me, if not love?” Your fingers dig into the Vessel’s white suit. “Resentment?”

The Evil Eye stares blankly. He doesn't know how to describe it all—the longing, the greed, the envy for the Vessel. The euphoria and closeness of being inside you, a feeling so good that he didn't even know that such joys existed when he was human. The idea of living in a House filled with wedding photos, the thought of making babies with you that he might hold and touch and kiss. So many things that he never had in life. So many things that he can't help but want in death.

So many things that he can't help but want to trap you for them.

“...no, I don't resent you,” he says. “It’s more like I wanna curse you.”

He expects you to cry more—after living for such a long time among humans, he now has enough manners to understand that it is rude to curse someone who has only ever treated you with unconditional love, even if in error—but instead, you become strangely quiet.

You pull away from him so that he can see your face. It's—hopeful?

“You wanna curse me?”

“Yeah. Curse you—haunt you, possess you, control you.” He shrugs. “The usual things that ghosts do when they're so attached to something that they can't move on. You know.”

“Oh.” You wipe your eyes, and the Evil Eye has to stop himself from helping. “I'm so happy.”

“...you're what?”

“I'm so happy that you feel that way about me.”

He stares at you. “You're happy that I wanna curse you?”

“Yeah.”

The Evil Eye studies you. You never react to him in ways that make sense—you’re endeared by him when you should be afraid; you treat him sweetly when you should be callous; you even seem to enjoy his violence when everyone else always punishes it. Now you’re touched by the idea of being cursed.

“Why?” he asks flatly. “I thought you wanted to be loved. Or make love. Something like that.”

You give the Evil Eye a long, thoughtful look.

“Jashi,” you start, voice gentle now, “what do you think love is supposed to look like?”

A married couple in a House. A baby in his mama’s arms. Three children dancing in a field, giggling in the sunlight.

“Dunno.” When you stare at him, as if expecting something, he grows agitated. “I said it's not in my nature. Talk to the Vessel about that stuff, not me.”

One of your brows arches. “Why? You're my husband”—his heart kicks violently at that; he hates this fucking body sometimes—“I want to know what you think love looks like. And besides…” Your voice gets all quiet, and you look away. “It’s not like Jiji would necessarily agree with my views anyway.”

That gets his attention. “What do you mean?”

You hum. “How do I explain it… well, for example—if I found happiness with someone else and left to be with them, Jiji would be heartbroken, but he would be happy for me. Because he loves me, it's ultimately most important for him that I'm happy.”

A married couple in a House. Two corpses dangling from the rafters. A baby in his mama’s arms. A child suffocating in the darkness, crying for his parents. Three children dancing in a field, giggling in the sunlight. Starving in a cage nearby, I'm so hungry, I'm so cold. Unfair unfair I don't wanna die I wanna play with other children I want to dance in the field please please please why can't I touch you why can't I hold you why why why—

“That's fucking stupid,” the Evil Eye blurts out.

“But that's what he’s told me—and I believe him.” You smile at him. “Now, how do you think I'd react if someone took you or Jiji away from me?”

This feels like a trick question. He squints at you. “The same?” he tries.

“That would be ideal. But honestly,” you admit, “I would resent you all for the rest of my life and then think about killing myself. That's what love looks like for me.”

“Oh.” The Evil Eye nods, relaxing. “Yeah, that makes way more sense.”

You laugh, sounding genuinely amused. “Jiji doesn't think so. It really worries him that I feel this way. It would worry most people, actually.” Then you get a little quiet. “I do want to get better for him, but it doesn't come naturally to me, the way that he loves me.”

He doesn't like the tone you're using—soft, uncertain. Mournful. You feel like one of the spirits in the House right now. He thinks about the way you cradled his bones, and his hold on you tightens.

“Where are you going with this?”

“I'm saying that I don't mind that you want to haunt me, or possess me, or whatever.” Your eyes are earnest. Steadfast with the confidence you had as you unearthed his grave. “To be honest, being cursed by you isn’t nearly as frightening as being loved by Jiji.”

The Evil Eye cups your face, thumbing away your tears. Would you cry like this if you knew what it would mean, to be possessed by him? Would you regret your offer to him, the way that the Vessel regrets his? Or would you stare at his true face as you did at the altar and vow to love him anyway?

Instead of asking you any of this, he allows you to loop your arms around his neck.

“I want you to make love to me,” you murmur sweetly as you climb atop him, and that makes him pause.

Two corpses dangling from the rafters. A child suffocating in the darkness, crying for his parents. Starving in a cage nearby, I'm so hungry, I'm so cold. Unfair unfair unfair why can't I touch you why can't I hold you why why why—

“I said I don't know how to do that.”

“Fine,” you say, and then you’re pressing your lips against his, grinding your cunt against his hardening cock. “Then curse me instead.”

VI. THE DEMON

You've always known that the Evil Eye couldn't love you in a normal way.

It was obvious from the outset, simply cataloguing him for what he is: a monster born from human sacrifice; a curse that drives people to madness, to suicide; a thing that regularly exploits Jiji for his body and makes him commit violence against his will. Jiji and Okarun and the rest might be delusional about the Evil Eye nowadays—thinking that he's just like a kid, that he just wants to play, that he’s in love and wants to get married and play house—but you are not. He can't play with Okarun in normal ways, and he can't love you in normal ways. Every desire ends in blood. That's how it began for him, after all. How he was born.

Your mind has always known this, but your body only learned it the first time you had sex. The Evil Eye doesn't know how to make love to you the way that Jiji does. You’ve tried countless times now, and he's even demanded that you make him do it that way so that he knows what the Vessel gets to feel during sex with you. You've kissed him deep and slow, gently touched him until he felt desire, taken him inside you and pressed your forehead to his. Just like that, you encouraged him countless times, you're doing so good. Good boy. You're doing so well. I love you.

You always end up with your face pressed into the mattress, cheeks wet with tears and throat hoarse from screaming. Sore and bruised and fatigued and it's too fast, it's too big, I can't, please, and with any other man you'd probably hate it but when it's Jashi you always end up moaning and begging for more. You'd always thought you’d be disgusted with yourself for having this kind of sex, but with him, you feel too good to really care. All you can think about is his teeth marking your neck, the cruelty of his rough hands, how his cock fills you so well that you can hardly breathe.

He’s taken you like this countless times, but something feels different about it right now. It might be the incense, so thick in your throat and your lungs that you're dizzy with it. It might be the fragrant petals crushed beneath you, soft and strange things that you stole from your wedding altar. Flowers for the dead, the priest had said to you, given to the ancestors, or to bodies as they're lowered into the ground.

You think maybe that's happening to you, right now: you’re dying, you're being torn apart, you’ll break in Jashi’s hands. It'll leave a mark on your body for a lifetime, forever—and you don't need to be saved.

But even after being fucked so many times, even after your mind has been made so hazy and distant, you're still trying so hard not to come apart at the seams. An agonizing pressure is building in your belly, and you can't let it burst. It’s inconvenient when you get too wet; it makes Jashi switch, which is normally hilarious but would feel catastrophic right now, when you’re drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you and don't want any of this to end. But it's so hard, keeping yourself from drenching him—you can hardly think when he's fucking you like this, let alone control yourself.

“I c-can't anymore,” you whine. “Jashi, you gotta stop, I need a break, please—”

Jashi doesn't care. He takes and takes and takes, and of course he does. It's in his nature as a vengeful ghost, as an existence so empty it can't do anything but consume the life around it. It's not enough that you’ve been ruined by his cock, that you're being used like a fleshlight. It's not enough that he’s made you cum countless times—not out of consideration to you, but simply because he's addicted to the feeling of you squeezing and milking him. It's not enough that he's spilled himself inside you more times than should be possible, uncaring of the consequences. It's not enough, it's never enough—he always needs more from you; more tears, more begging, more feverish, white-hot pleasure.

You shouldn't be surprised when you feel his hips start to stutter again, his cock twitching inside you. Some distant part of you is alarmed anyway, even as your cunt tightens around him, eager to be filled. You've never let anyone fuck you raw before tonight, never had anyone fill your womb up like this—not him and not Jiji; you've always been too afraid of pregnancy—but with each passing moment, it is harder to remember why. Not when it feels so good to be pumped full by him, your body flooded with a strange warmth each time. Unnatural, you keep thinking, this feels weird, he's doing something to me, he's cursing me, he's claiming me. But all you do is wrap your legs around his waist when he cums again, greedy for more, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of it.

He has to stop after this. He has to be sated. He pulls out, his cock throbbing against your swollen pussy, painting it a creamy white—and then he throws your legs over his shoulders and sinks back into you.

“Nooo,” you moan, squirming, thrashing, knowing you'll burst if he fucks you again. “I can't, I can't—I can't hold it in anymore, I can't—”

“Then don't,” he grunts. He looks straight down at you, his weight heavy on you, oppressive, unnatural. You hold your breath as you look at his face—dark and vicious, the vibrant eye on his forehead enrapturing. For the first time in your life, you feel a madness creeping in as it stares at you, fraying at your control. You can't move, can't resist him, can't think, and when he starts thrusting again, your body floods with a euphoria so hot that all you know how to do is cry.

You’re going to break from the ecstasy.

“W-what,” you gasp, “what are you doing to—”

Something hits your sweet spot, and your voice clips off into a desperate whimper. His cockhead starts grinding against it, and you try so hard to squirm, to stop, to control yourself—but whatever he's done to you has made you weak, pliant, and you feel yourself start to pulse. Pinned beneath his gaze, you can neither get away nor fight it. You can only surrender. The pressure is too much, your womb is too hot, and suddenly your back is arching and you feel like you're dying as you gush all over him.

You're in hysterics as you come down, panting and gasping for breath. “No more, no more,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, clinging to him. You sob into the crook of his neck, and finally—finally—he relents.

He’s gentle as he pulls out, careful as he sets you down on the bed. Kisses pepper your cheeks, your eyelids, your lips. Then, finally—his forehead pressed against yours, lashes fluttering against your skin.

“You're alright,” Jiji murmurs. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

VIII. THE CURSE

The Evil Eye has cursed you.

Jiji saw it on your body: a sunburst of strange characters on your stomach, an eye in the centre. The Taoist priest had broken into a pale sweat at the sight, its implications: if anyone else tries to touch you, whether with the intent to do harm or pleasure, then the untold carnage will be wrought upon them. Should you ever try to leave the Evil Eye, he will drag you back with such violence that it will shatter you. That so long as that vengeful ghost is bound to this earth, then so too shall be you.

Jiji is less worried than he probably should be. He doubts that the Evil Eye would truly ever hurt you, and also doubts that you’re physically capable of leaving him anyway. Ever since being marked, you haven't been able to go a day without having either of them inside you—brutally if it is with the Evil Eye; gently if with Jiji. Either way, you’ve been desperate for their touch, plagued by an all-consuming lust if you can't have them. It puts a wrench into all the plans for your respective careers and for the long distance arrangement. Auntie Seiko plans to train you to suppress the curse, but it isn't sustainable.

Privately, though, there's a part of Jiji that doesn't mind the excuse to see you all the time. It’s not that he wants to deny you your freedom, quite the opposite, but—you're his beautiful wife. And he's ridiculously in love with you. He can't help but miss you every day you're apart, and he also can't bring himself to complain about this particular aspect of the curse.

He also understands the Evil Eye for doing this to you. Sure, cursing you wasn't Jiji’s first act as a newlywed—but he also kinda gets it.

Jiji shares dreams with the Evil Eye, sometimes. He sees within them everything that the Evil Eye has experienced—not just as a demon, but as a spirit, a child, a waif. Sometimes he hears the thoughts that he once had, the ones that made him turn vengeful: unfair, this is unfair let me go it hurts it hurts please stop please stop help me help me help me I don't want to die.

Doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?

After all that? Of course the Evil Eye doesn't experience desire the way that a human would. Of course playing with someone is the same thing as killing them. Of course loving someone is the same thing as cursing them. And the Evil Eye loves you—that much is obvious, would be obvious to Jiji even if they didn't share a body—so of course his instinct was to carve you open and mark you with his spell.

Jiji feels poorly about it sometimes, guilty and selfish and like he should have ended things after all. Then you'd be free to love whoever you want, without the threat of certain death looming over you. But then you smile at him in bed, so tender and pretty and glowing beneath him. “I'm glad I get to be with you both,” you sigh, and then he can't really complain. After all, you're his beautiful wife. Jiji is ridiculously in love with you. Of course he wants you to be happy.

If it really ever comes down to it, if you really ever wanted to leave—Jiji knows he'd have himself exorcised. He'd rather die than hurt you. But the possibility seems so distant right now, with how you're studying the stone monument before you. You seem peaceful, tranquil, a calm figure cut against a placid, blue sky. Jiji guesses that's appropriate: cemeteries are meant to be resting places.

This plot of gravesoil belongs to the Enjoji family, and there is a spot carved out for you, right next to the space reserved for him. You bear his surname now, so when the two of you pass, you’ll be allowed to rest side-by-side. He already knows what the Evil Eye would say to that: you'll live in a House together and make babies together and eventually die together and be buried together. And if Jiji could talk to him, if he could for once directly speak with the monster inhabiting him, he'd beam at him and say yeah, we sure are.

But the Evil Eye would miss one thing, and it's that he'd also be buried with you. He'd be buried with both of you.

In your hands is an urn, plain but dignified. It carries the ashes of a waif hundreds of years old, the remnants of a brutal sacrifice. The last step of a ghost marriage is to bury the bones of the bride with the remains of the groom, but you're an Enjoji now, and Jiji’s family does cremations, not burials. When the time comes, you'll be burned, and your ashes will be mixed with those belonging to Jashi. He’ll go before either of you: by the end of the day, his remains will be in the crypt, though Jiji doubts his spirit is going anywhere.

“We’ll be interred with each other, someday,” you say to the ashes, tender. “But first we’ll spend a lifetime together.”

Then you turn to Jiji, your smile sunlit. It's shy, because you're always shy around Jiji—even though he's now your husband and you’ve married him in front of five hundred people and he's made love to you every which way on every piece of furniture in the house since then—and you add, “And we’ll spend a lifetime together too.”

Jiji laughs. “I guess you're stuck with me,” he says, and a frown briefly overtakes your face.

“We’re all stuck with each other,” you correct him. “You're cursed as much as I am.”

“I guess.” He scratches his cheek, sheepish. “Sorry you ended up with a husband who’s possessed by a ghost.”

“I wasn’t talking about Jashi,” you say, and you seem a little uncertain, but Jiji can't help but smile. Partly because he appreciates it when you're earnest with him, but mostly just because he loves you.

“You're so beautiful,” he says, “did you know that?”

You huff at him, turning around. “You’re too much,” you chide, but he hears the fondness in your tone. Jiji grins, and—in the privacy of the cemetery—takes the opportunity to loop his arms around you. You giggle when he squeezes you, and then your voice goes quiet.

“I love you,” you say, “did you know that?”

“Uh huh.” He spins you around so he can waggle his brows and give you his most reassuring look. You snort violently at his expression. “It’s super obvious. You can't resist my charms.”

When your laughter passes, you look down at the ashes in your arms—the child that you carried out of the House.

“Do you think,” you ask, voice odd, “he knows that?”

Jiji’s eyes soften. Because he shares dreams with the Evil Eye, and sometimes he shares thoughts with him too—like the pain in his chest that's been aching ever since he found his parents hanging side-by-side from the second floor, the one that grew every time he found the body of a spirit medium, the one that choked him when his relatives called him cursed and slammed the door in his face. He slept on the ground in front of their house after that—he didn't want to go back to the place where his parents nearly died—and called Auntie Seiko the next day, when he realised that they truly didn't want him around.

Sometimes he shares dreams with the ghost haunting him, and when he screams in his sleep he can't tell if the voice in his throat is truly his or if it actually belongs to the Evil Eye. But no matter its origin, it goes quiet when you hold him in bed and kiss his forehead. Just like how it went quiet when you carried that skeleton out of the House.

Doesn't anyone love me enough to save me?

“Yeah,” Jiji says. “Yeah, he does.”

END

some general notes:

this was a weird fic to write. ordinarily I would write the evil eye as having a childish and immature narrative voice; however, I (1) had to balance it with an aged up characterization, and (2) did not want to get cancelled, so I instead ended up with something in-between that feels a little awkward

there is jiji-focused companion fic that is like 50% done about him fucking you nasty after he switches places with the evil on your wedding night. I will probably finish it and post it when s2 comes out LOL

i know this is not my best writing rip please forgive me

some cultural notes:

taoism has real-life sex magic practices and places a lot of significance on, err, certain bodily fluids in terms of spiritual energy. none of these beliefs have anything to do with getting cursed via freaky ghost marital sex, but they served as the general inspiration for the curse in the fic (alongside dandadan canon, which coincidentally also places a lot of spiritual significance in sex and sexual organs lol)

the vows recited by the reader are a modification of standard japanese wedding vows (found on Google, take with a grain of salt). incidentally, western-style weddings are apparently quite popular in Japan, hence the decision for the bridal dress.

a lot of the wedding details are inspired by chinese funerary practices in addition to actual taoist ghost marriages. I took a lot of creative liberties with the wedding scene in general; real-life ghost marriages are quite different (from my understanding; I have never attended one)

#srb

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jjscrybaby · 21 hours ago

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could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader | fluff | (sweetheart!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #obx #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #sweetheart!reader

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lowkeyremi · 3 days ago

Text

BLOCKED ! (part 5) (smau series)

Summary: As a student of class 1-B, the first time you really saw Bakugo Katsuki was at the sports festival. That’s when you decided you would pursue him. It’s not easy though, because he absolutely hates you. Content: crack smau, just teens being teens, angst, miscommunication between bkg and reader, Bakugo is bad at feelings, reader might be a little ooc(?) she’s scared of confrontation (like me), stuff will clear up in the next part :3 Masterlist

(Written from Katsuki’s point of view for the explanation)

Ever since his little falling out with you, the both of you have made it your jobs to avoid one another. He doesn’t like it one bit, not after you confidently stepped into his life.

He really didn’t mean to avoid you after inviting you to his dorm. It just turned out that way, because he sucks at talking about anything that has to do with emotions. He definitely felt something too, when you were sitting on his bed making little jokes while eating with him. He felt warm inside and that scared him a little bit. So, he did what he does best and just ignored it, blocked it out.

Obviously that wasn’t the best route to go down, because you’re not talking to him at all now. Katsuki will never admit it, but he misses your annoying little texts, and honestly he’s not sure how to get you talking to him again…

The boy can only hope that you’ll give him an opening, an olive branch. He hopes you’ll be brave enough to make the first move because he’s too scared to.

You invited Kendo over to watch your favorite series. She was a little mad, because you watched a few episodes without her, so now you’re going to get her caught up.

“Thank you for coming over, Itsu.” She smiles and waves her hand.

“No problem, you know I’m always there for you.” You move in to hug her and it feels good to be in her embrace. Those same hands she uses to hit Monoma, bring you great comfort as she rubs them up and down your back.

“I forgot the snacks in the kitchen, so I’ll go grab those real quick.” You say, letting go first from the hug. She nods, her ginger ponytail swinging as she does.

A giggle escapes your lips, “Hey, what’s so funny?”

“it’s just, your ponytail is like an extension of you, I rarely ever see your hair down.” Kendo’s arms cross and she fake pouts.

“I like my ponytail, so what?” She questions playfully.

“No shade I promise, I just think it’s cute.”

She smiles. “Okay okay, you can go get our snacks. I’m ready to start."

You nod your head in agreement, walking out of your dorm to go down and grab your snacks.

Kendo waits a little bit until she thinks you’re downstairs. She quickly grabs your phone and sends a message to Bakugo. As soon as he replies she deletes all the messages from your view and from your phone. Perfect.

Taglist (Taglist is closed! Sorry loves)

@katsukota @nemisimp @herefor-tojis-tits

@haechansbbg @rcveriees @hearts4heidi

@kodzubaby @kiritokunuwu @xerophyides

@wisecatmentality @1ndee @call-me-prodigy

@harryzcherry @defnotriri @kxllanxtdoor

@sukunaspillow @djlance-rock @mouthymha

@ita606 @chemiru @msjaeger @katthekat1234

@ssrcsm @ilovemushroomss @sadgenderfluidmaniac

@cielito--lindo @dreamybabbyy @mrssiida

@cheriiepies @luvvvarmy @spooky-cupid

@marsilis @ndgshsns @welpydonut

@thoughtswithbbg @tenthmilo @aikojwhpa

@dqni31a @peachesvault @justforyou-18

@holobean

sorry to those who couldn’t be tagged!

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

#©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #bnha fluff #bnha angst #mha fluff #mha angst

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theyluvpeach · 1 day ago

Text

chasing you.

you avoid him. he catches you. dealer!reader x client!chris blurb <3

He's starting to think he's the problem. Those are words Chris never thought would form in his brain—But here he is, trying to figure out why hasn't seen you all week.

It doesn't make any sense. You're always around campus, yet when he's actively looking for you, you're nowhere to be seen. Chris doesn't even want to talk to you. He just wants to give you your shit back so Matt will stop bothering him about it.

Even though he's your friend—And he was the one to even invite you to the party in the first place—He has to return your heels cause apparently, Matt has better shit to do then chase you around all day.

He's been all around campus looking for you. If you're not at the campus cafe, he's gonna launch your heels at Matt's head.

Matt is so lucky you're here.

You're in the corner at a booth with tons of books and your computer in front of you. You're not your usual neon colored self. There's no star clips in your hair. You don't have on an overly tight top. No flared jeans. You're unrecognizable.

He can see the fear settle in your eyes as he walks up to you. So, you were avoiding him.

"Chris." The tension in your voice is quite frankly, insane. That night, after leaving you in his room, all he did was talk to Matt about what to do with you and then passed out on the couch after the party was over. What could he have done in that time?

"Kid, I know you were shitfaced last week, but I can't believe you forgot all about your stuff." You blink at him multiple times. "What?"

He shoves your heels and tights that are stuffed in them to you, "Y'know? All this?"

You slowly take them, your face lighting up. "Oh... Oh!"

"Huh?" He's confused. You were all gloomy just a second ago, and now you look like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Mh....I thought we fucked, if I'm being completely honest." He watches you tuck your heels away into your bag. "This reminded me we didn't, thanks."

Chris, for once in his life, is speechless. You were avoiding him because you thought you guys fucked. Honestly, he'll take this over you being all over Aiden. He wonders if you remember that... he's not gonna bring it up.

Huh. This is probably how the girls he sleeps with feel after they wake up alone in the morning.

"Nah, I don' fuck my brothers friends." You tilt your head at him, annoyingly, and raise your eyebrow. "Michelle."

"Doesn't count."

"Brittany."

"Also doesn't count."

"Vivi—"

"You friends with all the girls I fuck or somethin'?" You laugh, loudly. Bringing attention to yourself, but you don't care. You're definitely back to your usual self. "Some of them. They're wondering why I'm hanging around Mr. Community Dick."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Matt deserves that title."

"Eh, you guys are tied." You smile at him. And he gets that feeling in his chest again. The one that makes him feel like he's dying. When you start looking at him like he's crazy makes him remember that you guys are having a conversation and process that's he's staring at you.

He awkwardly coughs. "Whatcha' got all these books for anyway?" You groan, resting your forehead on the table. "Ecology."

He blinks.

"Plants." You sit up, resting your head in your hands, "Its the study of how living organisms interact with their physical environment—"

"We get it. You're smart. Trust."

"Well—" You flush at the compliment. Maybe not pissing you off gets him places. "That's just the definition!"

He eyes the stacks of books at your table. "You got a test, or are you just a nerd?"

You scoff. "I'm not a nerd. We have a test, and since my teacher writes questions like she hasn't talked to a human being in years, I'm doing some light reading."

"Light reading?" He teases. "Whatever." He checks his phone as you roll your eyes, well shit.

He spent way more time talking to you than he thought he would. He's gonna be late to the class he promised Nate he'd go to for the first time in forever.

"Gotta go," He says, beginning to walk backward towards the exit, "Don't drink so much next time, alright, kid? Not tryna chase you around again."

"I would've remembered eventually!"

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife

#theyluvpeach★#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sub chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sub matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo

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lesmiix · 2 days ago

Note

hii!! could you write hcs/oneshot of hyun-ju finding out reader has a daughter? like how she would react and bond with her?

have a lovely day/night!! ❤️

Hyun-ju finding out you have a daughter!

Hyun-ju x Fem!reader

Summary: You started dating Hyun-ju not so long ago, but she still doesn't know you have a daughter.

a/n: OMG THIS IS SOOOO CUTE Thank you so much for this request!!!

Hyun-ju requests are OPEN

You would have told Hyun-ju about your daughter not too long after you two have started dating, maybe 3-4 weeks later.

Wether you told her accidentally or directly.

"So, uhh... Hyun-ju, there's something I really need to tell you." You said nervously, playing with your hands, you really didn't want to take too long on telling her that little secret, so you decided to tell her right after having dinner in a really nice restaurant.

"Sure, what is it?" She asked, seeing the nervoursness in your face.

"I... uh... I had a boyfriend some years ago, it was not the best relationship but we were too immature to realize what we were doing so... I ended up getting pregnant and..." You chuckled a bit. "When I told him about it, we had a really bad fight and then he just dissapeared. I didn't have the guts to abort her, so... well... I understand if you want us to stop having all of these little dates." You couldn't stare at her in the eyes, fearing to see any disgust or dissapointment look on her face.

After some seconds of silence, you heard a soft giggle.

"That's okay, pretty girl, I don't have any problem with that so, can you tell me more about her?" She said after letting a small peak on your soft lips.

She would be the best mother ever, as a result of her childhood traumas, she wouldn't want your daughter to go through the same tough stuff as her did, so she would always make sure that the little girl knew she could trust her 2 mommies.

She'd help you preparing her food, and if she was still a baby and you were not at home, she'd be the most delicate while preparing the milk, always being really carefull with the temperature. If you decided to breastfeed her, she would silently watch you both with a cute smirk on her face, resting her head on your shoulder, wondering what has she done to deserve such a beautiful family.

Hyun-ju doesn't really like to stay at home all day everyday, so she would make plans for the three of you, like going to an aquarium, amusment parks, small trips on close cities or simply going shopping to the mall.

She truly loved spending time watching movies or playing hide and seek with your daughter, even though sometimes you and your girlfriend needed some privacity and hired a babysitter for the night.

Before you moved in together, if you had to work until very late, you'd call her to ask if she could babysit your daughter for a while until you got home.

"Hey, my love, I'm going to stay a little longer at work tonight, is it okay if I asked you to babysit Sheila? I'll try to finish as soon as I can, I won't take too long, maybe three hours more, I guess... I just have a ton of paperwork to fi-" You couldn't even finish your sentence as she cut you off.

"Baby, it's okay, take the time you need, I'm on my way"

As Hyun-ju doesn't have contact with her parents anymore, you would spend christmas with your family.

She would be this kind of "respectful parenting" mom, like, she would NEVER raise her voice or her hand at her, but NEVER NEVER NEVER, doesn't matter how bad your daughter screwed up. They would have a long chat if she did something bad, but Hyun-ju would speak to her very softly.

Overall, she would be the greatest mother your daughter could have ever had.

a/n: AWW I loved how this turned out!! 😭

#cho hyun ju #cho hyunju x reader #hyun ju squid game #hyun ju x reader #hyunju #player 120 #player 120 x reader #squid game #squidgame x reader

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spidybaby · 1 day ago

Text

Makeup Voice-over

Madrid Boys x Influencer!Reader

Summary: You ask your boyfriend for help to record the voice-over of your makeup routine.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: Hi guys! Many of you asked me to do a version of Barca Boys but with Madrid guys. I took the most mentioned in the requests, hope you like it, love you 🙂‍↔️❤️

Jude

"So, I just have to do say what you are doin'?" He asks, confused while you place the airpods on his ears.

"Yes, baby." You smile at him.

"What if I don't know the name of the product?" He asks, worried. "Or the name of the tool?"

"Jude, just do it your way, call it whatever."

"Alright, boss." He smiles.

You left the room, leaving him to do it alone. You walk with a laundry basket to the laundry room. Wanting to be surprised with the video once it's done.

Jude does what you told him, play the video, and start to say what you are applying with a lot of detail.

"Hello' mates, I'm Y/n, your favorite one. Today, I'm doing a tutorial so you can look as amazing as I do."

He chuckles as he stops the video. You recorded in parts so he could pause and do the voice over slowly.

"I'm applying this green gel, I think that's for hair." He says, confused. "Oh, on my face, okay." He doesn't understand why you would apply that to your face. "Now I'm grabbing this and putting drops of it on my face. As you can see, it's the same color as my skin." He explains.

He takes a pause to drink some water.

"With a sponge, I know that cause my amazing boyfriend who I adore gave it to me!" He says proudly. "I spread it all over my face, then you grab another product with the same color and put it under your eye, in your chin, in your forehead."

He tries to understand what you are doing but he doesn't really know much about makeup and he doesn't really know much about the names.

"Okay, so now you need to use powder, place it all over the stuff you just spread." He confusingly says. "Now I know this one, you need to blush your face just like when my perfect boyfriend gives me a compliment. Love you, darling." He chuckles.

He feels happy that he knows what you are doing, he might be dumb but he wasn't dumb to blush.

"Now apply brown powder cause why not." He explains. "Also, now with a brush, you grab this other brown powder and apply it to the eye, close it before, we don't want to become blind."

He praised himself for the knowledge.

"Now that your eyes are powdered with brown, you grab an even darker brown and do it to only a part of your eye." He says, obviously thinking he is correct. "Now you take this shiny powder and apply it to the other part of your eye, yes."

He pauses again, taking a other sip of his drink.

"Okay, mates, and you grab this mascara. Yes, that's the name. Write it down. You apply it to the lashes twice, apparently."

You are downstairs finishing with loading the washing machine, not thinking that it was going to be as funny as it was being.

"Now we apply lipstick, but if I'm being honest let's skip it, fuck!" He says, very confident. "Oh, shit. Not this glossy thing. Okay, apply a glossy thing to your lips but don't kiss your man because that will end up on his lips."

He hates gloss, everybody knows that now.

"And then you spray your face, why? I don't know." He chuckles. "Thank you guys, now go buy a real madrid jersey with the number 5, bye."

Kylian

"Bonjour à tous, je suis Y/n."

"Kyks, in English, please!" You say from the kitchen. He was recording the voice-over on the couch.

"Anyways, today I'm doing my skin care and makeup. Let's start." He says in a very sweet tone. "First wash your face if you don't disgusting."

You can't help but laugh at him.

"Shhh, I'm working here." He says, trying not to laugh. "You now need to pass this cotton thing with this mmm, water?" He questions.

You shake your head, he tries to praise that he knows everything but clearly don't.

"Pass it around and let it dry." He nods at himself. "Then you need to apply this silicony gel, make sure it's spead correctly because if not you will root and die."

"Kylian!" You warn him. "You can't say that to people."

"I know what I'm doing, mademoiselle." He tells you. "Now that you did, apply foundation on this plate and add some of your skin care. Why? Don't know, but do it just like I do."

He pauses the video to talk to you.

"What is the plate?" He asks.

"It's a mixing pallette." You explain. "You use it to mix products."

He nods, understanding. "Now you pick it up with a brush, applying it to your face. Blend it up calmly because if not, you might break an arm." He chuckles. "Then you move to your small foundation, I think that's not what is called but Google it. It's Dior as you can see."

He makes sure to say it because when you did a video asking him to guess the price he was impressed that Dior had makeup.

"Once that's done, you grab this brown cream. Grab the brush and take some product, apply to the forehead and the cheeks." He explains. "And grab this blush, one dot on each cheek, blend it."

You smile at how he looks like he is enjoying doing it.

"Grab the powder and powder yourself, make sure to be very powder, or you'll be all wet with the other products, and you will be the clown of the party."

You cover your mouth, can't believe how extra he was being.

"Then you'll grab another brown product, applying it again, same with the blush, do it again. Don't worry if it seems wasteful. Make your boyfriend get you another one."

He chuckles, knowing that he was being a hit.

"Now you need to move to the eyes. You are going to grab a pallette and apply a color to the eyes. You then gran your marker and draw a line, make it sharp, it needs to be able to cut the enemies."

You shake your head no, laughing at him being so extra.

"Once you do that, you need to apply more lashes, bigger ones." He explains. "They glue to the eyelid, and once it's done, grab a mascara, apply it."

You move from the kitchen to where he is. "Almost done? The food is ready."

He nods. "You are going to grab a color pencil. Paint your lips with it because you'll need it for the lipstick. When you are done, you need to apply a spray."

He tries to remember the name of that spray but he can't.

"And done, now I leave to go to a Real Madrid game to see my boyfriend, love you Kylian, the best, vote for him on La Liga player of the month, bye."

Arda

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" He asks, very shyly.

"Yes, love." You smile, caressing his face. "It's just a voice-over of my makeup tutorial."

"But I'll mess up things."

"No, you won't." You smile. "Just name things as you think they are, okay?"

"Okay."

He walks over to your studio, you let him alone to do it because he asked you to.

"Okay, shit." He takes a deep breath. "Hello everyone, my girlfriend is doing a makeup tutorial. First, she's applying this skin color cream with an eggy looking sponge."

He's confuse at the sponge but won't pay mind to it.

"Then you need to grab another skin color cream. This one is, I think, a little bit more bright, or maybe it's the light." He says, very confused. "You need to hit your face with the sponge and move the cream around. Then you are going to grab a big brush, she's using one I gave her for her birthday, don't ask me, my mom helped me." He chuckles

He didn't lie. He got you a lot of makeup things for your birthday. Thanks to his mom, he got everything right because he was lost.

"Now, with another brush, she's grabbing this thing to make her face have shape or something like that. You need to apply it to the jawline, the cheek, your nose, everywhere basically."

He's confuse about why is it everywhere, but he won't question you.

"Okay, now a different brush. This has been in her collection for a long time, I know cause I once almost broke it, and she told me that." He chuckles. "You grab this pinky powder, apply it to the cheeks and I don't know why she's also applying it on the top of her nose and on her eyelids."

He's confused at why you are doing that but won't complain. He isn't a woman, he can't argue with you about it.

"Okay, now she's using this eye makeup. She likes orange, and she will use it on her eyes. This makeup was when we played with the orange jersey. Love that jersey. Also, the white one is cool, but this one has its own thing."

He's rambling, but you don't mind about it. It was supposed to be something fun for you and him. So you told him to be himself and to ramble if he wants.

"After the eyes, she usually grabs this lash comb, makes her eyelashes grow, they look amazing." He admires the image of you. "She doesn't like gloss or lipstick, so she's using this belly thing on her lips, tapping it with her fingers to make it seem natural."

He was almost done. He knows it because when you do this, you then apply a spray and say you are done.

"To finish you grab this spray, it makes your makeup last. Why? I'm not sure, but I just trust the process, apparently." He says, trying not to chuckle. "Now we are done, and as you can see, she looks amazing. Thank you for watching."

Brahim

"Bueno gente, let's start this." Brahim says. "You'll need to be pretty cause if you are not as pretty as me, sad." He says.

You shake your head no, trying not to let the big laugh you are holding out.

"You need to use some foundation, I use this one from Rihanna." He mentions, not sura about brands but dealing with it. "You grab the sponge, hit your face with it, hard please so you can stamp that makeup on."

You lost it, letting the laugh out.

"Shhh, amor venga!" He says. "Okay, move on, you grab your concealer. In this case, I couldn't sleep because I like to watch my boyfriend who is very handsome, guapo el chico!"

You laugh again.

"You then grab this powder, also grab this triangle, press the powder, and then place it under the eyes, the forehead, the cheeks." He explains, feeling like a pro. "You then grab that cocoa powder lookalike. Then please grab a brush and a blush, I love the kiko one, muy bueno, mucho pimiento!"

"Pigmento!" You laugh

"Exactly," He says. "Now I don't like to add much eye shadow, I place this light brown, como café corto de leche, then I add highlight."

"Coffee with light milk?" You ask.

"Shhh, guapa." He says, waving his hand. "To finish, I apply my favorite mascara. It's named better than sex, even tho it is not because my boyfriend joder!"

You almost pee yourself from how hard you are laughing at his silliness.

"Now, apply a lip oil and go around your day." He says sassy. "Also, don't forget to go and see my boyfriend, The Brahim Diaz, highlights on La Liga Instagram. Adiós, kiss kiss." He finishes with a kiss sound.

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h0efor2ho · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, how are you?

May I request something about reader being best friends with The8 and secretly fucking/seeing Hoshi (his roommate) The8 catches reader riding him in their living room and instead of walking away The8 jerks off to them having sex

If you decide to write thank you and even if you don’t thank you for your work 💕

I'm so happy someone other then me is enjoying my work lol so thank you<3

2) I can not tell you how excited I got thinking about this!!

I started writing it at work in a email to myself I couldn't wait lol

I hope you enjoy!!

WC : 1.6K

TW : Voyeurism, Secret Boyfriend! Hoshi, Best Friend! Minghao, Jerking off, Unprotected sex ( wrap it up everybody ) Cream pie.

"We only have a hour" Hoshi moans into your mouth as he pulls you down onto his lap. You straddle him, your pretty sundress bunching up around your thighs as you settle again the bulge straining against his sweat pants. "He left 15 minutes ago" He says pulling back to pull off his shirt exposing his chiseled body to you.

You can't help your hands from roaming over the plains of his defined muscles. "I hate sneaking around and lying to him" you say meeting Hoshi's eyes as you grip the bottom of your dress and pull it up over your head. "I know babe" He says with softness in his eyes. "But you know how he is. I don't know how he'll take it when we tell him we're dating. God look at you didn't even put panties on" "There could be worse things" you say lifting up on your knees allowing Hoshi to slide his pants down around his ankles. "Yea there could be" He says gripping your hips "Like you not sitting your pretty pussy on my cock right now" He tugs you down gently. You grab his cock and guide him to your wet entrance. Coating his tip in your juices before slowly sliding down onto him till your completely full of him.

"F-Fuck" Hoshi moans out as you adjust to his length. It's not long before your bouncing up and down on his dick. The room filled with the wet sounds of your body meeting, your moans and his grunts. Your so lost in the moment you don't hear the front door open and close. You don't hear the sound of keys hitting the entry table, or the foot steps coming down the hall.

"So this is the stuff you had to do that you couldn't come to the gym with me?"

Your blood runs cold. You hault your movements, eyes going wide as you look at Hoshi, Who is already wrapping his arms around your back pulling you to his chest to shield you from view. You tilt your head and look over your shoulder and there stands your secret boyfriends roommate, your best friend Minghao. His eyes dark and his brows drawn together.

"Geez man you scared me" Hoshi says looking over your shoulder. "I forgot my airpods and well I'm not the one fucking my best friend, who i told you was off limits I might add, in the middle of our living room" "Hao'" you softly say, his eyes looking at you "Don't Y/N. I told both of you that friends were off limits as fuck buddies. It gets messy and I don't want to have to chose" "but it's not like that" you say looking at Hoshi. "How is it not, your stuffed full of his cock right now I literally see it with my own eyes" Hoshi gives you a devilish smile. "It's different because we're actually dating" He says, looking past you to Minghao. You wish you could see the look on his face as he just gives you a "huh" you peel yourself from Hoshis chest, turning to face Minghao more. "It's true Hao. We've been together for 3 months now. I'm sorry we didn't know how to tell you"

You expect him to get mad, to yell at you guys for lying. What you don't expect is for him to walk over and sit on the couch next to you and Hoshi. "Well don't stop on my account." he says. "what?" you as, eyes going bit wide. They both look up at you. You feel both sets of eyes racking over your exposed body. Minghao looks at Hoshi than back to you. "Hao' here, well he likes to watch, as you can see" Hoshi says, you follow his gaze down to your best friends lap where his basketball shorts are currently being tented by his hard cock. Your eyes shoot back up to the wall behind the couch. "Ohhh" your boyfriend says "Don't you like that babe?" His hand coming up to grip your chin tilting it down to look at him.

"She most definitely clenched around my cock" he gives Minghao a sideways glance before looking back at you "You like that idea? Minghao watching as I fuck you?" Your walls again involuntary squeeze Hoshis dick. You can't deny the idea pools heat in your stomach. "Yea she does" before you know it he's pulling you down into a needy kiss. His hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them as he gently starts to rock you back and forth. Hoshi pulls away slightly. "What do you say pretty. Can Hao' watch as I make you cum? I know you like the idea of being watched. I can feel how wet you're getting" You glance down at your best friend, who is now trying to subtly rub his cock through his shorts. You cant hold back any more "Yes" you moan out, rocking your hips in rhythm with Hoshi's hands.

Before you know it Hoshi was you spun around, your back pressed to his chest and he rams his cock up into you. Across from you Minghao has his cock in his hand. You cant help but look at his hand pumping up and down his long cock. Pre cum oozing from the pretty pink tip. He's moving his hand in time with Hoshi's thrust's up into you. You watch as his slender fingers grip his shaft on the down ward tug. How he's trying not to thrust his hips up into his hand. How he's biting his bottom lip to keep from moaning to. You watch as his pumps pick up speed, becoming a bit erratic. Just at that moment Hoshi's hand snacks across your stomach to dip and find your clit. Rubbing tight circles on your nerve. "Come on and show Hao' what it looks like when you cum baby" he says into your shoulder.

Your hips start to meet his thrusts, just as Minghao's reserve breaks and he starts to thrust up into his hand. His head falling back as he lets out a groan. "Fuck" he says. His eyes coming back to look at where you and Hoshi's body meets. "You take his cock so well" The coil in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter as you watch your best friend jerk off to you and your boyfrind fucking. Your walls begin to tighten, Hoshi knows you're close, angling his thrusts he hits the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. "fu-fuck" you cry out as you tighten around his cock.

Your thrust over the edge, your release running down his cock as he begins to slam into you. His thrusts determined. You watch as Minghaos eyes are glued to your cunt. "Shit" he moans right before his abs tighten and streams of hot cum shoot from the tip of his cock coating his hand and abs. Hoshi slams into you one more time before he still. "Fuck fuck!" he shouts as his cock twitches inside you, coating your walls in hot sticky cum. You close your eyes, trying to regulate your breathing. Hoshi's arms wrapped around you, his face nuzzled into your neck. When you open your eyes, Minghao is gone.

You start to panic for a moment, afraid you just ruined your friend ship between not only you and him, but him and Hoshi as well. A moment later you hear his footsteps as he rounds the corner. A warm wet rag in his hand. He makes his way over handing it to Hoshi, who slowly pulls out of you and onto his lap. Using the rag he helps clean you up. Minghao takes a seat back on the couch, looking at the both of you. A smile warms his lips. Silence settles over the room, heavy but not uncomfortable. The air still hums with the remnants of what just happened, an unspoken understanding hanging between the three of you. Hoshi presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder before moving to clean himself off, while Minghao watches, his smile lingering but unreadable.

"Well," Minghao says again, tilting his head as if processing the moment. His gaze flickers between you and Hoshi before he leans back into the couch, one leg crossing over the other. "That was... unexpected." You swallow hard, still catching your breath. Your mind races with a thousand thoughts—Was he upset? Was this a mistake? Had you just ruined something you didn’t even realize needed protecting? Hoshi, still warm against you, chuckles softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "You’re acting like you didn’t enjoy it." Minghao huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t say that." He pauses, his gaze settling on you. "Are you okay?"

The sincerity in his voice sends a strange warmth through your chest. You nod slowly, adjusting your position against Hoshi, who holds you a little closer. "Yeah," you murmur. "I’m okay." Minghao studies you for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly satisfied with your answer. Then, he shifts, stretching his arms above his head before letting out a breath. "Well, now that we’ve crossed that line… what happens next?" The question hangs between the three of you, heavy with meaning. You glance at Hoshi, who meets your eyes with a knowing look, before turning your gaze back to Minghao. "I guess that depends," you say softly.

Minghao smirks, the sharpness of it softened by the warmth in his expression. "Depends on what?" You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "On what we want this to be." The room falls into silence again, but this time, it's not uncertainty that lingers, it's anticipation.

** If you enjoyed, please reblog **

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 3 days ago

Text

Private Dances 7

Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info • series masterlist

Summary: Blue comes to find you when he's in a bad mood.

A/N: A huge thank you to the epic @lonelyisamyw-0love for tipping my ko-fi, this series is especially for them💚

Warnings: Smacking (in the face - Blue receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, oral sex (f!receiving) Blue crying, reader says Blue's crying turns them on, small argument - but like it's a scene, overuse of italics, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a dancer (but like Blue is so lovesick), not beta read, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

There are 5 main ‘stars’ in the club: Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal. Crystal is usually the favourite but is currently in Blue’s bad books for reasons unknown to the reader. Reader is a backup dancer that Blue has nicknamed Lion.

Word Count: 3100

Blue’s in a foul mood. Worse than foul.

The tension in the air is heavy, spiked with electricity like the moment before a lightning strike.

You’re helping Penny and Swan with the A Quarter stock check when you hear it: Blue’s yell. It’s harsh and sharp, cutting through the air like shattered glass despite how low the sound is. Anger radiates through the walls, his tone clear and precise even though the words and their meaning are muffled and lost.

Penny and Swan jump at the first shout, poor Swan nearly dropping the items in her hands. Her fingers shake as he tries to compose herself. She’s fairly new and has never been under Blue’s direct warpath, but she’s heard enough stories to develop a healthy apprehension.

Penny gives you a nervous glance, “That sounds bad.”

You nod.

“You…” Penny swallows, her eyes downcast.

You know what she wants to ask. Can sense it. It’s almost like her words are echoing in your head, running along your synapses. It’s the same thing nearly everyone wants to ask, though no one has dared to yet.

“Blue…” Penny tries again, breathing in as she searches for the right words.

“You’re one of his favourites, right?” Swan blurts out. It’s funny almost, the bluntness of her words. But her eyes are wide and honest, and there’s a shine of fear in them that robs you of all humour.

Penny tuts before you can answer, swatting Swan on her forearm. “You don’t just say that.”

But why? You want to ask. Why is there this unspokenness to some things? No one had ever told you not to question, but it was ingrained anyway.

“It’s alright.” You say and give them both a small smile. “It’s fine.”

Swan rubs her arm and Penny looks relieved.

“I know some of the… others,” Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal, “aren’t too… they don’t like being asked.”

But that wasn’t quite right; some of them didn’t mind either, some of them freely gave information when it wasn’t too much to talk about. Crystal was the only one where asking a question was like a flip of a coin. You never knew if you were going to get an answer, a vicious comment, or your eyes clawed out.

Some twisted hierarchy.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.” You repeat.

“What’s he like?” Swan asks, a morbid curiosity in her voice.

All you can think about is the scars on his skin, how soft his eyes look when you press against his windpipe, the quiet, wanton moans that pass his lips when you squeeze.

You shrug, trying to find substantial words. “He’s…”

“A fucking monster.” Penny shakes her head at Swan. “Why are you asking Lion stuff like that? You know what he’s like.”

Swan frowns, “Hey, I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Penny folds her arms. “It’s-”

The door flies open, smacking into the wall with a crack.

Penny jumps while Swan lets out a little cry of surprise.

You turn instinctively, your mind racing.

Blue storms into the room, a deep scowl etched into his face like a scar. His gaze first falls on Swan and she takes a sharp, shaky step backwards her eyes downcast.

Without thinking, you take a step forward and Blue turns at the sound. His glare softens when he sees you, but barely. He doesn’t steak, just grabs your bicep and pulls you from the room. You stumble, his firm grip keeping you upright as he practically marches you to his office.

The door is barely open before he drags you inside and spins you around to face him.

You stay quiet, but fix him with a hard stare.

He breathes heavily, his shoulders relaxing. He’s the one that blinks first, his eyelashes fluttering and then looking down as his grip on your arm relaxes.

“What?” You ask simply, your voice firm but quiet.

He shakes his head.

You place your hand on his cheek and tilt his head upwards. “Blue?”

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his blinking heavily. “I… I should have…”

You let him stumble over his words.

“I… that was impolite… of me.”

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head again, but this time the action is not dismissive. You can see the cogs wiring in his mind as he tries to regulate his emotions.

Softly, you rub your thumb against his cheek and he leans into the soothing motion. His breathing slows, his jaw loosens as he closes his eyes.

“The conversation with Gerald,” one of Blue’s lawyers, “about regulations… building permits.”

Ah. This was to do with Blue’s planned expansion of the club.

“It didn’t,” he breathes deeply as he leans further into your touch. “I became… upset. I wanted…” He pauses again, opening his eyes to stare intently at you. “I needed to see you.”

“There are better ways of getting my attention, aren’t there?”

His nose wrinkles in displeasure. “Why were you even out there anyway?”

You go to drop your hand from his face but he grabs your wrist, squeezing slightly as he keeps you firmly against him.

Rage sparks under your skin. “You want me to stay locked up in your rooms all day and night?” You hiss.

Your conversation with him the night before echoed in your ears. ‘You don’t have to do anything Lion, just stay here.’ Even though he hadn’t intended it to sound like a prison sentence, the idea still chilled you. Isolated from everyone but him. What happened if he just woke up one day and decided to throw you away? What happened when he did?

“Is that such a curse?” He growls, his eyes dark.

Something in you snaps, the smallest thread of self-control splinters in your temple. You twist your hand, moving so that your fingers dig into one cheek, while your thumb presses against the other. You squeeze, tilting his head back. Feeling the indent of his teeth under your fingertips.

Blue lets out a little gasp of surprise, his head falling back under the force of your grip.

“Lion,” he lets out, broken and weak.

You step closer. “What kind of fucking behaviour is this?” You whisper, letting your anger burn along your words. “I know we spoke about your reputation.” You sneer. “How it’s best for you to be perceived by others. But don’t you dare take that tone with me-”

“I’m sorry!” He sobs, his voice thick, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

You shake him slightly, a jolt that has him whimpering.

“Never interrupt me.”

His shoulders shake as he tries to fight down the wave of sobs that threaten to wreck his very core.

You watch him with hard eyes.

“Lion?” He whines. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“I thought we were past this.”

He breathes in shakily, tears spilling out and over his cheeks. “I didn’t mean, I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have been rude to you, I shouldn’t-” He bursts into full-blown tears, practical hysterics. Something that you haven’t seen from him before.

You loosen your grip, wrapping your arms around him quickly and pulling him closer. “Shhh,” you rub his back, cradling his head as you soothe him. “Shhh, it’s alright.”

“I didn’t,” he hiccups, trying to get air into his lungs and failing, “I didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to upset you. Disappoint you, I, I, I-”

You kiss his temple, gently leading him to the sofa, which is easier said than done while still holding him and his face pressed into your neck.

As you sit down you take his cheeks in your hands, stroking his skin with your thumbs and smearing his tears. You kiss his nose and he smiles weakly while still crying.

“Usually when I grab your face like that you get a boner.” You give him a soft look.

He laughs once and nods, trying to calm himself down.

“And we end up with your face between my thighs.” You keep your voice gentle and he swallows, nodding again. “Blue…”

He looks up at you, his eyes red. “I’m so sorry, Lion.”

You shake your head, about to tell him not to be when he puts his hands on your wrists. The touch is light this time as he lightly strokes your skin. “I was… I thought that was going to happen.” He says quietly. “I intended it to… To be our usual game.” He looks up at you a little nervously when he says ‘game’ and relaxes when you give him a warm smile.

“Don’t be sorry.” You soothe.

“I just… suddenly it felt…” He absentmindedly touches under his left collarbone, rubbing the thick, deep scar that you knew resided there.

“It’s alright.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

Still cradling his cheeks, you kiss his temple, and then under his eyes, tasting the salt of his shed tears.

He nuzzles into you, kissing your neck and chest over your clothes. You let him, kissing the top of his head and stroking his back.

He moves lower slowly, pressing his lips to your thigh.

“Blue,” you say softly, coaxing his face up so you can see him fully. “You don’t have to.” You don’t want him to think he has to perform, has to be constantly… oh.

He gazes at you with heavily lidded eyes, his erection straining against his trousers. So much so you were sure he was going to pop a button.

Lightly you trace along the edge of it with your fingernail and he groans, his eyelashes fluttering and still wet with tears as he smiles.

“I’d like you too…” He swallows, already starting to feel like he’s floating. “I’d like you to ride me and…” he bites his lip, shivering. “I’d like you to smack me.”

“Smack you?” You say, thinking back to when you had him across your lap.

“Hmm,” he sighs dreamily, “here.” He touches his cheek.

You’re not sure if this is such a good idea, especially after his sudden tears. “Blue-”

“Please Lion,” he bats his eyes and bites his lip. “Just sit on me, you don’t even have to move. Just keep,” he inches closer, almost swaying, like a predator about to pounce, “hitting me and let me come and I’ll clean up all my mess afterwards.” He rubs his nose against yours, slipping his tongue past your lips and kissing you desperately, drinking down your moan like a glutton.

You wish it wasn’t so easy for him to coax you out of your clothes, for him to strip you bare while you were so distracted with his kiss. But there was a reason Blue was so used to getting his own way: he was undeniably persuasive.

He has his suit jacket off, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone and his tie loosened when he pulls you into his lap. He keeps kissing you, keeps running his hands up and down your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Blue groans into your mouth as he squeezes the outside of your thighs before he hastily unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly. He pulls his aching cock out in a hurry, almost rough with himself, a vast difference to how slowly and reverently he had undressed you.

He squeezes the thick base with one hand, pulling his lips away from yours long enough to groan, “Hmm, Lion, please, can you- ah!” His gasp is sweet and pools heat in your belly as you take him in hand and guide him between your folds.

He lets you take control immediately, gasping as you glide his leaking tip through the wetness between your legs before you press him to your clit.

He moans deeply, his eyes blown wide. “Lion,” He swallows, his throat bobbing, “God, you’re so wet, does seeing me cry turn you on?” There’s the smallest grin on his lips, and even though you know it is just a tease, you can’t help yourself.

You squeeze the base of his cock a little hard and his eyes roll back. He lets out a harsh groan as he squirms. You know, for most, the action would be painful.

“God Lion, please, you’ll make me come before I’m even inside.” He whimpers, his voice strained. He presses his head back against the sofa, trying to gain some control over himself, and grabs hold of your hips, squeezing his fingers into your sides.

You chuckle and slowly press his fat tip to your entrance. There’s the smallest resistance before he breaches.

Blue swears, his eyes rolling back. His neck taut and exposed to you as he leans back.

You spread your knees a little wider as you ease yourself down onto him. “It does, by the way.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at you with hazy eyes, already drunk on the feel of you.

“Seeing you cry turns me on.”

“Fuck.” He tenses, the base of his cock pulsing. It takes all his will in the world to not come there and then.

You smile, stroking his hair as you sink further down. “That desperate for me?”

He nods rapidly. “Yes, Lion, yes, so desperate.” He moans loudly as your thighs meet his, finally swallowing him to the hilt. “Thank you, thank you.” He whispers, blinking hard.

“Are you sure you want me to hit you here?” You trace a heart over his left cheek with the tip of your finger and he nods.

“Please.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I will, I promise.” He looks up at you, staring like you were the one who placed the stars into the sky. “I trust you, Lion.”

You kiss him softly before you sit up fully. Blue hisses at the change of angle, his cock twitching as it rubbed against your walls.

“Ready?”

He manages to nod once before your palm collides with his cheek. The sound is sharp. It echoes like a bell ringing loudly in your ears. Blue’s face snaps to the side at impact, your hand tingles with the force.

But his deep gasp and moan quickly alleviates any worry you had.

He turns back to face you, his cheek already growing red. “Again.”

You smack him. Harder this time.

He turns quickly. “Again.”

Smack.

“Again.”

Smack.

“Agai-”

Smack.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Blue wimpers, his body singing as the pain mixes dizzyingly in his veins. He can taste iron in his mouth. But it doesn’t stop him from turning back to face you.

Smack.

He gasps, groaning as his hips buck once, his back arching. Pleasure rushes over him, pulling him deliciously high before dragging him down, down, down into dark, sweet depths. He spurts inside you, warm and copious, filling you to the brim and trickling down his balls.

He squeezes you as he comes, shuddering and shivering until he blinks heavily.

You’re holding him close and tight, and he’s never been safer than this moment. Never been more protected than in your arms.

He moves slowly and you loosen your grip so he can look up at you, dazed and happy.

He doesn’t like how your eyes widen when you look at him.

“Blue,” you swallow. There’s red in his teeth. You go to touch his lip and stop yourself.

“Oh,” he runs his tongue over his incisors, and chuckles. “Just a small cut.” He pokes out his bottom lip to show you, he’s right. It is a small thing. “I think that was from the third hit.”

“Blue-”

“It was so good, Lion. Please,” he strokes your cheek. “Don’t worry. I would have stopped you if it wasn’t, I promised didn’t I?”

You nod, still a little uncertain. Your worry distracts you momentarily, and Blue leans up quickly to kiss you. He licks into your mouth, groaning as his blood hits your tongue.

You take a sharp intake of breath, but you don’t pull away. You kiss him back harshly, lightly nipping at his lip and squeezing his shoulders when he moans.

Gently, he coaxes you around so that he can lay you back against the sofa, with the armrest behind your head.

He hisses as he pulls out, part of him already lamenting being away from you, but the sight of his spend dripping out of you makes him groan.

“Oh, yes Lion,” he presses at your thighs, spreading you wider. “A feast.”

You gasp as he dives to your core, dragging his warm tongue slowly through your folds in one long lick. He watches you intently as he runs over your clit, ending with a flick before he starts the whole process over again.

You jump, squirm, thrusting closer to his mouth and groaning when he uses one hand to press against your soft stomach, keeping you in place as he continues his languid torture.

He refuses to go faster, to even sink his tongue in deeper, no matter how much you beg and pull at his hair. Always keeping up that same firm pressure and drawn out pace that is starting to make you lose your grip on reality.

“Blue,” you plead, wriggle, your clit throbbing as he makes another slow trek through your pussy before his tongue can soothe the ache in your bundle of nerves.

But even as he reaches that part you need his touch so desperately, it isn’t nearly long enough. You buck, trying to get just a little tiny bit more of that pressure, but it’s fruitless.

“Blue,” you moan again, your tights shaking. Your stomach is pulled so tight you think you might explode, that heavy throb is painful. Maddening.

He starts up again, groaning as he licks and, “Fuck,” you shiver, shake as he just drags over your clit, even slower than before, pushing firmer and, and-

You scream, your muscles tensing and spasming as pleasure explodes along your nerves, runs along your veins and overtakes your very being.

You shiver in his arms as he swirls his tongue over your bundle of nerves again and again, watching you with lust blown eyes as he prolongs your pleasure for as long as he can.

You sob, shaking with aftershocks as, finally, you start to recover.

Blue places a light kiss to your core, then belly, before he moves up and settles back between your legs. He’s smiling as he strokes your cheek, looking the most content you’ve ever seen him.

Lightly you trace his moustache, it’s soaking with his spit and your come.

Sweat cools on your skin, and you notice the state of his shirt. “You’re going to need to change.” You tease and he laughs.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @steven-grants-world @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine

@angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin

@reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr

@spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23

@sub-aro @killerdollz @maplemind @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist

@dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious @homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop

@oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012

@pigeonmama @marcsb1tch @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan

@faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#blue jones #sucker punch #blue jones x reader #x reader #blue jones x you #x you #blue jones x female reader #x female reader #blue jones x f!reader #x f!reader #blue jones x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #afab! Reader x blue jones #afab!reader

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cowgirlvi · 2 days ago

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ask from 🎃 anon that tumblr wouldn’t let me publish:

Not sure if you like longer asks like this bc I fr just be writing blurbs in your inbox because I refuse to make my own blog for this stuff, but um. Having thoughts about Vi and I need to put them somewhere.

Vi x virgin!reader, except more specifically Vi x virgin!reader who's probably a bit autistic and problem solving is their specialty and they have no idea what they're doing but they have every intention of *figuring it out.* So the first time they touch her, they go slow, real slow; taking mental notes of her reactions. And for a while Vi just assumes they're...bad. Or maybe teasing her? Fingertips catching her clit, and she gasps, maybe even makes a show to try and communicate to stay there, pay attention to that, damn it, and reader who just doesn't. They move on. And this happens over and over, and Vi's getting frustrated, but never seems to get turned off (because she's being very carefully kept aroused), and virgin! reader who is just trying out different paces, techniques, spots, and takes note of every little reaction, but never fucking does anything about it. It has to be on purpose, no way it's not on purpose.

And Vi’ just about to call it quits and put her pants back on. And then reader who decides, they've done enough research now, time to put it into practise. And when they *finally do* commit, it's careful, but confident, and, frankly, much too perfect. Vi wasn't expecting to feel it in her tummy, for her head to spin. But she *does,* because now they're touching her properly, and they're curling their fingers just right (got her to clench the hardest, out of all the techniques they tried), and they're touching her clit exactly how she likes it (made her head roll back and eyes go all fuzzy), and the pace is perfect, and the pressure is perfect, this woman was a virgin, she said? Are we sure?

Vi x virgin!reader who treats her body like a research project and royally pisses her off and then turns around and makes her nut in about two minutes.

IS THIS ANYTHING CHAT IS THIS ANYTHING. Sincerest apologies for writing fanfic in your inbox I just wanna hear your thoughts okay…..it will almost definitely happen again, sorry. Unless you'd prefer I didn't in which case that's cool I won't obviously.

i love this so much!! thank you for the food 🍱 i might add this to my writing list if you don’t mind :D and i’ll link this post of course

#🎃 anon ｡⋆༄#vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x reader smut #headcanons ★ . . !?

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kythed · 10 hours ago

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loser

tags: friends to more-than(?), virgin!megumi x reader, 18+!, sexual tension, megumi tries his best, stoner reader, cute awkward cunnilingus, heavy on the cunnilingus

megumi watched as you hit your pen, exhaling sweet-smelling clouds into the air.

"you're stinking up my dorm," he said. you just laughed, eyes red and glassy, hair tousled from the hour spent laying on his bed watching television. he lay next to you, a scant inch of space separating your bodies.

"wanna hit?" you said, dangling the pen over his face.

he swatted it away. "hell no. you're killing yourself with that shit."

"it's weed, 'gumi. not crack."

"still killing your brain cells," he huffed. "and you didn't have too many to spare in the first place."

megumi stared at his ceiling, watching the fan spin. he imagined it carrying the scent away, restoring the room to its usual vanilla bean scent—the febreze plug-in he'd bought in september. god, he wished you wouldn't smoke in here.

"ouch," you said, not sounding hurt in the slightest. you giggled, rolling over onto your side to face him. "fine, i'll put it away. let's talk instead."

megumi rolled over onto his side to face you. you were wearing a t-shirt of his you'd stolen and basketball shorts you'd "borrowed", both covered in crumbs, the last remnants of a now-empty chip bag on his nightstand. this close of a friendship certainly had its material downsides.

"okay. what do you want to talk about?" megumi humored you.

"hmm... catch the hockey game on thursday?"

"uh, no. we were drinking at yuuji's."

"oh, right," you said, slapping your forehead. "thanks for holding my hair back, by the way."

"sure. didn't stop you from getting vomit all down your front, though." megumi smiled a little, remembering how—pre-vomit—you’d drunkenly spun across the room and landed in his arms, attempting a bastardized cha-cha slide. he'd had enough tito's to nearly cha-cha back.

"we could talk politics," you drawled, "or maybe art. art history? we just learned about schiele in class. total freaker. or we could debrief kimiko's weird mesh outfit from last weekend again. i feel like we didn't talk about that enough."

"nope, we have most definitely talked about that enough," megumi deadpanned.

"then i don't know what else there is," you complained. you yawned and stretched, extorting your body dramatically, throwing your left leg over his right and leaving it there. megumi would never say it, but he liked that you were more generous with physical contact when high. light touches, the occasional hug that he returned stiffly. in a platonic way, of course. he was just touch starved. probably.

"this may be a sign that we spend too much time together," he said, stroking the edge of the comforter absentmindedly. he did not think that. you'd been his closest friend—one of his only good friends—since freshman year for a reason. there was something about you that was just comfortable. not overly reactive or over-enthusiastic, just... easy. witty. familiar. it was nice.

"hmm..." you wiggled your toes, expression serene. a long silence stretched between you. megumi flicked a crumb off your shoulder and watched it land on the carpet. he'd have to borrow his roommate's vacuum later.

"have you ever had sex?"

megumi nearly choked on his own saliva. "what?"

"you know, how when a man loves a woman they—"

"i know what sex is," he cut you off. "but why are you asking? you wanna know my size for a purity ring, too?"

"i'm just curious," you said, fiddling with the hem of your (his) t-shirt. your expression seemed purposefully casual. megumi stared at you until you looked up and met his eyes. "i have. but only once. he was thirty-five."

"the fuck?" megumi said. "that's quite the age gap."

"i had a tinder phase freshman year. i'd messed around with some guys in high school, oral and stuff, y'know. but i was tired of still being a virgin, and i thought an older guy would know what he was doing."

"oh." he didn’t know what else to say. he felt like this wasn’t a conversation you two should be having. "i mean... did he?"

"i didn't cum," you said easily. megumi wasn't sure how he felt about hearing you say the word 'cum.' his face grew warm. "it was quick, clean... it was, like, fine, i guess."

"just that once?" he said. the question slipped out, and megumi was surprised to find he was actually curious.

"yeah. i figured that was about as good as it was gonna get," you joked. "so... have you? had sex?"

"um..." megumi looked away. "maybe we should go back to talking about kimiko's mesh thing or whatever."

"come on, 'gumi, just tell me," you said, scrunching up your face. "i told you!"

"yeah, but that was completely unsolicited!" he protested. "i'm a more private person than you are!"

"i'm not gonna ask about your fetishes or anything," you said. "like, i know you're probably into some pretty fucked up stuff, 'gumi, like choking, or weird roleplay—"

"stop it, you're so fucking invasive—"

"or maybe latex—yeah, actually, you really do seem like a latex guy! the whole bodysuit situation, you know? with eyeholes and a mouth hole for—"

"no, i haven't had sex, okay?" megumi nearly raised his voice. you stopped. "i'm a loser, virgin, whatever. i'm 21 and i've never seen a girl naked. can we just... stop talking about this, please? i'm wildly uncomfortable. and you're high."

"i'm not that high," you said quietly. you sat up, jostling him as you crossed your legs and turned to look at him. your usually expressive face was still oddly devoid of much emotion. "do you like...? y'know. touch yourself?"

"yes, i masturbate," he said, exasperated. the boundary of propriety had been broken. megumi figured he might as well just answer honestly and try to get you to let go of the topic.

"porn?"

"not really."

"erotic literature?"

"jesus," he said. you just stared at him. he blushed. "i just... use my imagination."

"yeah?" something in your voice shifted. softer. curious.

"uh, yeah."

"what do you imagine?"

"um. like, sex."

"with who?"

"this is getting really weird," he said, scooting slightly away from you on the bed. "let's just turn the tv back on—"

"have you ever imagined me?"

his breath caught. "what the fuck?"

you laughed. "come on, it's not embarrassing if you have. we do spend a ton of time together, and i've been told i'm pretty cute!"

megumi opened his mouth, ready to deny it outright. but then he remembered. once. twice. a few times. after too many drinks. he always tried to forget afterward, washing away the guilt with kleenex and hand soap. washing away the images of you, your hot, bare skin, chest heaving. the sound of your soft, girly sighs. your tightness. fuck.

your smile told him you already knew. "oh."

"no, it's not—"

"it’s okay, ‘gumi," you said, your expression unreadable. you even laughed, and he flushed, partially with anger, and partially with the embarrassing beginnings of arousal. "really."

"sure, (name). i have most definitely thought about you naked while masturbating," he said, trying to play it off with convincing sarcasm. "because that's what i find sexy."

you were quiet, obviously unconvinced. megumi clenched his fist in the comforter. fuck. this was not good.

"do you wanna see in real life?"

"what?"

"see me naked, i mean."

yes, he did. of course he did. but not enough to sacrifice your friendship. "no, i don't—"

"it won't fuck things up if you just look." you brushed his hand with your fingertips, and he didn't move away.

"just... look?"

"yeah," you said. warmly. kindly. with a thumb under your waistband already. you were so generous. "just look."

the room already smells like sex, he thought suddenly, and scolded himself for thinking it. no. you're just gonna look. just look.

"okay," he heard himself saying. "maybe i'll just look, then."

"yeah?" you slipped the shorts down low enough to show a cute undie waistband, white, dotted with pale yellow hearts. it was very you. megumi didn't even know how he knew that—he'd never seen you in any underwear. but he realized he liked how you looked in that pretty, almost childish pair of panties, swimming in his big t-shirt and rolled up shorts. then you pushed them down enough to expose a smooth hip bone, an expanse of soft skin across your pelvis, and he felt a real heat somewhere down there. you stared at him expectantly.

"please show me, (name)," he said quietly. finally. against his better judgement.

so you did.

megumi held his breath as you wriggled out of the shorts, as you reached under your t-shirt, unfastened your bra (black, with lace, totally mismatched in a way he found somewhat endearing), and unceremoniously dropped it on the floor. you leaned back on his pillows, and he forced himself to stay put. it was so embarrassing, the way his eyes were tracking your every movement—you were just friends, after all, and friends didn't do this shit. but he wasn't going to tell you to stop. not now.

"you ready, 'gumi?" you said. you smiled as cheerily as if you were asking if he was ready to start a game of checkers.

"you're doing this on purpose," he said, eyes tracing the outline of your mound underneath the thin fabric. it all felt so dirty. he hadn't known you could be like that. "irritating me. as always."

"i don't know what you're talking about," you said softly. your t-shirt rode up as you settled back further into the pillows, exposing a faint trail of hair beneath your belly button. (cute.) you hooked your finger on your panties.

"just fucking take them off if you're going to," megumi said. he knew he sounded fucking horny. he didn't really care, 'cause he was. it was probably too late to pretend he wasn't. you could definitely see it through his sweatpants, anyway.

"okay," you breathed, and finally, finally, you slid your panties off and spread your legs, taking your fingers and gently spreading the lips of your pussy so he could see every soft, wet fold. it was prettier than he had ever imagined because it was realer than he had ever imagined, and yeah, fuck—he had imagined it.

so sue me, he thought, feeling himself lean closer to get a better look as you gently pulled the hood of your clit back so he could see. it was a little nub, somewhat of an odd looking body part, he thought, but he shivered when he saw you clench on air as you brushed across it with your fingertip.

"does it feel good when you do that?" megumi asked, trying to keep his voice to a clinical monotone. you looked right him and smiled with half-lidded eyes, rubbing little circles in your clit.

"mm... yeah, it does," you sighed. your voice went straight to his cock. he looked down and noticed a small wet spot on his sweatpants. fuck, he was leaking already. you'd noticed, too. "you wanna take a closer look, 'gumi?"

"um. yeah. yes," he said. you gestured for him to come over, so he did, on his hands and knees; he knew it was undignified and desperate, but he couldn't help it. he dropped onto his belly so he could be eye-level with your pussy. he could smell it from here, hot, a little sweet and sweaty. different than anything he'd smelled before.

"you wanna give her a little kiss, maybe?" you said. it almost sounded like a joke, but he knew it wasn't. megumi hadn't thought you'd be the kind of girl to call your pussy a 'her.' he liked it.

"i thought you said only looking," he said, not taking his eyes off you. you clenched again, throbbing painfully.

"i thought you knew me well enough to know i don't really believe in rules," you said, and that was all megumi needed to hear. if the friendship was going to end up ruined, you'd probably already passed that point. might as well enjoy the fall now.

megumi swiftly took your waist and pulled you towards him; you yelped and giggled, but your laugh was turned into a gasp when he licked a long stripe up your vulva, landing square on your clit. he licked that again, then kissed the little nub like he'd seen in raunchy adult videos. he sucked, hard, and you cried out.

"hey, no! gentle," you chided, and megumi blushed.

"i'm sorry," he said, panting a little. "i... i don't really know what i'm doing."

"do it like this," you said. you took his hand and gave the crease between your index and middle finger several quick kitten licks in succession. then you gave his palm a soft kiss, staring down at him with those sharp but kind eyes. god, he loved your eyes.

"okay," he said. he could follow directions. he returned to the task at hand and gave you a hesitant little lick on the clit, and when you sighed in assent, he did it again, and again.

"fuck, yes," you sighed, sliding a hand into his hair as he gave your clit a gentler suckle before returning to the little licks you seemed to like so much. he moaned into you, feeling your tug his hair harder when he did. you pushed his face into your pussy, and he groaned, unable to resist rutting into the mattress. fuck, the friction felt good. you seemed to like it when he did that, too, because you moaned when he did, tummy taut and trembling.

megumi let a pool of his saliva collect and spit it onto your clit, using his index finger to rub circles on it like he'd seen you do earlier. "feel good?"

"so good," you said, grabbing his other hand and interlacing your fingers with his. his chest tightened. that felt intimate. "ah, 'gumi, please, faster."

"fuck, (name). you're fucking hot," he said, hating the way the vulgar words felt on his tongue but loving how they sounded, how they made you wriggle on the bed, rut your pussy up into his hand.

"put a finger in," you said breathily.

"what?"

"i said finger fuck me, 'gumi. now," you said, and for a second you were back to your normal opinionated self. his friend. his best friend. then you pulled your shirt up to expose your tits, and pulled his other hand to your pussy, and everything was new again.

megumi growled deep in the back of his throat before leaning forward to kiss your tits. he licked your peaked nipples, alternating between them, and at the same time, slipped his index finger into your hot, wet pussy. he moaned despite himself. you were fucking tight. you were basically a virgin too, he reasoned. sex once. 'messing around' at other times, whatever that meant. he found he didn't like that other boys had touched you like this.

fuck, he was so hard. he humped the mattress again—it wasn't nearly enough.

"oh, fuck," you moaned, crying out as megumi slipped another finger in, curling them in you, feeling around your walls. he finger-fucked you aggressively until you sobbed once, and grabbed his wrist. he liked the way your face contorted when it hurt a little, and that scared him.

"please, 'gumi, gentle," you said, cupping his face with you hand. he leaned into it, apologetic. "too much, seriously. just... kiss me now, okay?"

"okay," he breathed, a little embarrassed at his ineptitude. and then he leaned down and kissed you, soft, sweet, long. how funny, he thought, that your first kiss together happened only after he'd already started eating you out. he wondered if you could taste yourself as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, as he bit your bottom lip, as he held the back of your neck firmly. when you finally broke away, you were both panting.

"now get down there and make me cum," you said with an ironic little smile. megumi didn't have to be told twice. he gave you one last slow, longing kiss, then descended again to your pussy. he spread your legs wide, propped them on his shoulders, and then used his fingers to pull the hood of your clit back. he grinned at you from below, and you stared at him, helpless and eager. whining, you bucked up into his face, and he took the hint, beginning to lick, suck, and kiss your clit. when you moaned or whined he kept doing whatever he was doing, relishing the way you grabbed at him, arching your back. he ate you wildly, feeling your wetness mix with his saliva and spread all across his cheeks and nose. frankly, he didn't give a fuck. you tasted a little sweet, a little salty. and he loved it.

"fuck, nngh," you gasped, wriggling in megumi's grasp. he kept eating you as you did. "i'm gonna cum, 'gumi, i can feel it. i can fucking feel it, oh god, you're so fucking good, baby, oh fuck, i—"

at the last second, megumi slipped a finger in as he licked, just so he could feel your pussy throb and clench when you came. he let you ride the orgasm out on his tongue, feeling like a damn god when you did, pushing his face into your pussy, letting it leak on him.

megumi wasn't quite sure what happened in the minutes immediately after you finished. he could vaguely recall you wiping his face on your t-shirt and giggling. giving him a soft kiss, which he returned more than willingly. it was as if he was in a trance and suddenly came to with you curled up by his side in just his shirt.

"hey." you gazed up at him, glassy-eyed and flushed as you traced the hard bulge in his pants, and he shuddered, staring down at you, watching you palm him through the fabric.

"hey," he breathed, peering into your face, searching for a change in that comfortable homeostasis of the friendship. he couldn't tell. maybe nothing had shifted. maybe everything had.

"let's take care of you next," you said, leaning over the side of the bed to grab something. "got any condoms?"

"um, no," said megumi, hastily adding, "but i can definitely run to the corner store really quick or someth—hey! i thought we agreed you'd stop hitting the pen in here!"

you exhaled, grinned, and he wrinkled his nose. at least one thing had stayed the same.

"i'll get dressed and we can go together. got any sweats i can borrow?"

"yeah."

well, megumi reasoned, as he rummaged through his drawers for you. you were always going to do what you wanted, and he was always going to let you. and maybe that was just natural.

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #part 2 forthcoming? if people want it?

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