#and i want to go home to a place that doesn't even feel like home anymore

[syluss-littlecrow]

release

<Caleb x fem!reader>

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell. 

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him. 

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side. 

You're supposed to be back already. 

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread. 

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue. 

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you. 

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think. 

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze. 

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…” 

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched. 

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles. 

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed. 

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did. 

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.” 

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room. 

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view. 

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed. 

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit. 

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…” 

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath. 

He sighs. 

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that. 

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.” 

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?” 

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face. 

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off. 

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.” 

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare. 

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again. 

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer. 

Then he turns away. 

What the fuck? 

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head. 

“You should go back to bed. It's late.” 

He turns to open his door for you to leave. 

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.” 

He pauses in his steps. 

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door. 

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.” 

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind. 

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed. 

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?” 

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts. 

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly. 

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh. 

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin. 

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more. 

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough. 

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad. 

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed. 

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb. 

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed. 

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily. 

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs. 

“We both know you wouldn't.” 

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full. 

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted. 

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up. 

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily. 

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes. 

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed. 

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit. 

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head. 

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven. 

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name. 

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second. 

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down. 

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?” 

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him. 

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink. 

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else. 

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below. 

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him. 

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips. 

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?” 

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you. 

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out. 

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.” 

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.” 

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace. 

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens. 

What day is it now? 

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks. 

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime. 

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny. 

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again. 

Are you even awake to realise this? 

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight? 

He watches your breathing steadily. 

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning. 

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below. 

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots. 

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.” 

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder. 

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls. 

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths. 

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again. 

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom. 

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.  

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward. 

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always. 

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence. 

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you. 

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint. 

6 missed calls. 

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you. 

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Days of the Week

Monday is your grouchy and uptight coworker. He's a stickler for the rules and not someone who confesses his feelings. He'll usually push his spectacles up his nose and frown at you whenever you try and do something new, no matter how simple.

"What did I say about filling out the spreadsheets by yourself? You've confused all the figures."

He'll push both you and your chair out of the way and settle himself at your desk like one messed up spreadsheet means the death of the whole company. If you ever try and thank him, he'll glare at you like you've insulted his whole bloodline.

"Tch. Just ask me next time."

If you pay attention, you might notice the blush that tinges his cheeks whenever you smile at him. You might notice the way he straightens his already perfect tie before coming over to harangue you about company dress code and your slightly-too-short skirts. (Why is he noticing your skirt length to begin with? Perv).

Luckily for him, you're usually too irritated or harassed to pay attention. His secret crush will be staying a secret for as long as he can manage.

Tuesday is your overly sweet neighbour. He introduced himself to you the second you moved in - offering you a tupperware of homecooked food because he knew exactly how overwhelming moving in could be. He's the guy you call when you need a shelf hung up or a stubborn jar opened. He'll raise his brows when you thank him, secretly pleased that you asked for his help.

"That's what neighbours are for, right?"

He doesn't mention that the previous tenants left him a spare key to your apartment. What if you get hurt one day while you're locked inside, with no one able to reach you in time? It's safer for you both if he keeps it a secret.

And if he occasionally let's himself into your apartment while you're at work, it's just to keep an eye on the place. It's what any good neighbour would do. So stop wondering what the white stains on your panties are, okay?

Wednesday is your unassuming classmate. They're the quiet kind, apt to fade into the background without meaning to.

At first, they were envious of you. Pretty, clever, friendly - you aren't the type people can easily ignore. They watch you whenever they can, desperate to somehow copy that elusive charm that makes you so special.

It doesn't work, obviously. When they try smiling like you it looks stiff and unnatural. When they copy your outfits they feel exposed, self conscious. When they try wearing the same perfume as you they break out in hives that last all week.

They can't be you. No one can.

But they aren't going to give up so easily. Maybe your luck doesn't come from clothes or hair or makeup. Maybe it's something deep inside of you, something that can be ripped out and kept for themselves.

They're going to learn what makes you so special, even if it means following you home with duct tape and chloroform.

Thursday is your favourite professor. He's the quietly confident type, the kind of man who doesn't have to shout to keep the lecture hall's attention. He's insightful and empathetic, his brown eyes always warm.

You trust him totally and completely. You don't notice when he starts resting his hand on your lower back whenever you stand next to him. You don't notice that your papers are always graded more harshly than your classmates. You don't realise he wants you, not even when he offers you private office hours despite his packed schedule.

You're a real cock tease, always looking at him with those doe eyes and pretty lips. He's a patient man - he'll have you eventually. It doesn't matter if it takes him two weeks or two years, he'll keep dropping your grades until you beg him for help.

You trust him. You really, really shouldn't.

Friday is the star athlete that everyone admires. Handsome, confident, clever. A man like that would usually invite envy, would get dirty looks thrown at his back and nasty surprises in his locker.

Not him though. Everyone loves Friday.

Well, everyone except for you. There's something about him that frightens you. Underneath his golden boy facade, there's something rotten and selfish.

You don't realise he's noticed your dislike until he corners you after class one day. He wraps one hand around your wrist as everyone files out of the lecture hall, too eager for the weekend to notice the slightly panicked look on your face.

"Listen, I hate to think I've done something to offend you. If I have, just tell me now and we can sort it out," he tells you, blue eyes cold and distant despite his pretty boy smile.

You tug at your wrist but his grip is unbreakable. He isn't hurting you, but his strength keeps you right where he wants you.

"We barely even know each other," you say, your eyes jumping to the door and the suddenly empty corridors. "I don't have any issue with you."

"That's a lie and we both know it. I don't want to push you, but I'm not letting you go until I know what I've done."

You finally meet his eyes. "You have it too easy in life. You get everything you want. I don't hate you. But I don't like you either."

His expression is a careful blank. "I'm not going to apologise for what I have or for what I've been given."

You tug at your wrist again and he finally let's you go.

"I don't expect you to," you mutter as you swing your bag over your shoulder and hurry out the door.

He watches you leave and inside him some selfish, possessive creature lifts its head and growls. You should have known - when a man with everything he could ever want is shown something he can't have, that just makes him want it all the more.

"Gonna make her mine," he says to the empty classroom. A promise or a threat, even he can't be sure.

Saturday is a party girl. The kind of bombshell who wears a tiny metallic bikini, a cowboy hat and absolutely nothing else to a rave.

She knows every kind of cocktail and every kind of fun time pill. She's shamelessly cocky and shamelessly outgoing. When you run into her at a concert, she'll get you all the way to the stage no matter how packed the crowds are. 

You'd think a girl like that would know all about boundaries and consent and you'd be right. The thing is, she ignores it just as easily as she ignores speed limits and DUI citations.

She'll kiss you when you're too drunk to say no. She'll give you pills that she knows you can't handle just to take you home. She'll ignore you when you try and push her away, weak and intoxicated and too woozy to form a full sentence.

And the worst part? She knows you won't report her. Girls can get drunk and touchy without it ever being called a crime.

She'll run her hands up your thighs and nip your neck and tell you she loves you. But she's always long gone by morning.

She's just a girl, your honour. And she'll use that excuse as many times as she needs to.

Sunday is your local barista. He's an artist on the side, the kind of creative soul who can't express himself without the help of charcoal and acrylic.

He's too stoic to ever work the cash register or take orders, but he somehow always ends up there when you're in line.

He usually sneaks an extra sweet treat into your order. And if he has the time, he'll usually leave a little doodle on your receipt.

He hasn't spoken to you much, but he can feel the red thread of fate tugging you closer everyday. You're soulmates, lovers meant to be, fated by heaven and all its angels.

It doesn't matter how long it takes, you'll be his eventually. He can read it in the stars.

[kamospeach]

just hold on we're going home .ᐟ

plot: husband!nanami who doesn't like when his wife get's too drunk.

content warning: alcohol use, strict nanami, oral m!recieving, face fucking, lil spitting, messy messy, choking, restraint, daddy kink sorry not sorry, mating press, backshots, stomach bulging :P, breeding kink, breeding, lots and lots of dirty talk

peachy's yap: wc 3.4k.ᐟ nanami's such a gentleman you dont get in trouble until the day after LMFAO. shoko’s my lil fruity pop :D! i might have lied about posting yesterday, but sza is my fav so. birds of a feather...

if nanami asked whose idea it was he knew you'd lie. it started very calmly your girls begged to have a girl's night. nanami started taking off to spend more time with you so you had been up under him for the past month. you offered up your home for the girl's night to which nanami agreed.

but he didn't think you'd kick him out once the night came. he thought he could stay in your bed and eat what you bring him from your girlie snacks. watch murder mystery and finish some leftover work. boy was he wrong, the minute your girls walked in you pushed him out the door.

he stood at the door shock written all over his face as you stood in your pink versace robe. you smiled wide, eyes crinkling at the corner looking at your husband. he was trying to be mad at you but your big white smile swayed him.

"i thought i could stay," he said his tone tugging on your heartstrings. you frowned giving him a peck on the lips promising you’d save him a big plate. letting him know he was free to come home at 12. he was taken aback at your audacity but he knew you deserved it.

he sucked it up and made his way to gojo’s house knowing somebody was there. if not everyone. since gojo couldn’t fathom being alone for longer than 30 minutes. just as he thought geto, shoko, yuji, and now he were sitting on gojo’s couch playing games. but all nanami could think about was you.

“she really kicked you out?” shoko asked sipping on a drink. nanami just nodded not even wanting to talk about it. he was in denial that you wanted him out THAT bad.

“i’m surprised your not there shoko,” gojo said and shoko smacked her lips. she was clearly upset about getting banned from girls night.

“last time i went they said i kept kissing on my girl too much,” she said leaning back with her arms crossed. it was awkward enough that his friend’s girlfriends randomly became your friends. (he’s still trying to figure out when y’all had the time to become friends) but now when you had girl’s night the only place he could take refuge at was at the house of the person who annoyed him the most.

"pretty sure the point is to be away from their significant other anyways, i don’t know." geto shrugged clearly as distressed as nanami about being away from his girlfriend.

4 hours in they tried to get him to drink but he couldn’t even look at the bottles. too busy replaying your instagram story over and over. he had to admit, him taking off and spending more time with you made him feel like you two were newlyweds all over again.

technically he could blame these feelings on you since you asked him to take off. now he was here bored and annoyed with gojo’s loud talking and shoko’s ranting about her girlfriend who was having just as much fun as you.

another hour in his cheek rested on his palm as he watched the graphics fly across the tv screen. that was until shoko got a call that made her stand up quickly.

“nanami we gotta go,” she said and nanami looked at her bewildered.

"for what?" he asked and shoko was just rushing to grab her stuff.

"y/n drunk off her ass and my girl crying cause she miss me," she said laughing and nanami raised a brow.

"is my girl good?" geto asked and shoko nodded.

"i'll bring them here, but y/n needs to go home," shoko said looking at nanami who still had a confused look on his face. "what?"

"they didn't have any alcohol..." nanami said and all the men plus shoko looked at each other.

"so where are they?" gojo asked looking at his girl's location and his jaw dropped. "they at the club," he said and that was all nanami needed to hear before he quickly made his way out of gojo's penthouse.

shoko followed behind him with a light jog to keep up with his fast menacing steps. everyone else stayed behind while they sent the good cop and bad cop to do their dirty work.

he had never driven this recklessly in his life. he was pushing 100 on the highway swerving in and out of cars. making a park in a no parking to get to you. the line outside the club wrapped around the building but he didn't care. ready to argue with the bouncer who pushed him back.

"can you just let me in my wife's in there drunk?" he pleaded and the bouncer shook his head.

"wassup shoko." the bouncer said dapping up shoko letting her in. "aw he with you? why you ain't say that man c'mon." he said letting him in the club. nanami gave the man a sickening glare not liking how that went down.

"there they go right there!" shoko shouted over the music pointing to the group of girls. you stood on the couch singing to the music in the same robe from earlier. when you noticed nanami you squealed climbing down from the couch and running over to him.

"are you here to party with me?" you asked and he gave you a blank stare. you knew what he was there for but you rather act stupid which only fueled his anger more.

"you know what i am here for y/n," he said and you looked by at your 3 friends who were being gathered by shoko. you slowly turned back to nanami with a guilty smile. "yeah." he said grabbing your hand and you followed behind him. did you know you were in trouble? yes. did you care though? not really.

"ken wait i have on slippers." you said and he huffed picking you up. "ooo so manly." you laughed kicking your feet and accidentally hitting someone. the man turned around glaring at the both of you.

"not tonight man please." he begged the man who looked at your drunken state nodding at nanami apologetically. "then you got on the robe i got you. for your birthday, our matching ones?" he scoffed at your audacity to wear it outside.

"sorry." you laughed as he placed you in the seat. the minute the door closed that was the last nanami heard from you. you were knocked out from the time y'all hit the highway to the next morning.

your head was pounding as you sat up seeing two pills a glass of water and a note. quickly taking the pills with no hesitation, after you read the note.

take the pills. breakfast is in the microwave. you're NOT off the hook.

-K

considering the "NOT" was underlined not once not twice but three times you knew you had it coming. still, you decided to make sure what you were reading was indeed correct.

you: okay so you are mad at me?

ken💛: You read it.

you: so yes or no?

ken💛: Or.

you nodded to yourself seeing how he was going to be. although you were in the wrong you were going to drag this situation. well, you were gonna try, but honestly, you were shitting bricks all day. you cleaned the living room from the previous night and even the kitchen. you busied yourself with laundry and baking cakes and cookies. totally NOT to beg nanami to forgive you.

it didn't help after you replied with a '?' nanami left you on read. he was later than his usual 6pm that he was working nowadays. you sat on the couch watching real housewives as your leg bounced faster than your head spun. as you were just about to relax the lock clicked.

you thickly swallowed your spit as the door creaked open and nanami walked through the door. being a suck up you ran over to him helping him with his jacket and folding it over your arm as nanami loosened up his tie.

he was angry with you, yes but he couldn't deny how sexy you looked in your short gown. that only went half past your thigh the lace at the bottom enticing him.

your cocoa-buttered legs smooth from your everything shower you took two hours ago. nanami wanted to forgive right there and stuff his face in your thighs while he sloppily ate your pussy. but he couldn't do that, you were getting too comfortable and he couldn't let that happen.

"i made salmon for dinner and cake and cookies for dessert." you smiled and he hummed kissing your lips. you both sat at the table eating the dinner you made.

"so," he said wiping his mouth and leaning back. he had finished his food and you looked up from your plate.

"did you want dessert i can make you a-," you said standing only to be stopped by nanami's stern voice. he didn't use that often with you so he meant business.

"sit down," he said and you gulped loudly returning back to your seat.

"i'll give you one time to lie to me." he said and you furrowed your brows not sure what he meant. "why did you guys go to a club?"

"okay, so funny story actually. we were watching tiktoks and we saw a friend group go to a club in pajamas. so we were like hey we're in our pajamas so let's just go." you explained finding that answer easy.

"so why were you drunk like that?" he asked and you sighed, nanami didn't mind you drinking. but he always lectured you about being drunk to the point you weren't worried about your surroundings. last night you were definitely drunk past being aware of your surroundings.

"they just kept bringing out shots, peer pressure i guess." it was the truth the more shots they brought the less you cared about your husband's lectures. he hummed at your answer and he leaned up resting his elbows on the table while his cheek sat on his fist.

"and whose idea was this?" when he asked this you gave him the exact reaction he expected. your eyes looked everywhere but he knew this would be your reaction. "speak up."

"mine," you said as he stood up, nodding, and walking over to you. your eyes followed his every move your eyes trained on his veiny arms as he rolled up his sleeves.

"give me one reason you shouldn't be in trouble. for not telling me where you were going, getting fucking wasted, and acting a fool," he said and you nod as he listed off the things you dad like he was reading your sentencing for a crime.

although nanami was a soft husband he really did hate being mean to you. he was controlling you were free to do whatever you wanted as long as you told him. he didn't have many rules so for you to break two reasonable rules was insane to him. the 'acting a fool' accusation didn't matter to him he just threw that in for dramatics.

"w...well for one you love me." you smiled up at nanami who licked his lips with a slow nod as he unbuckled his pants.

"on your knees," he said clearly not satisfied with your answer. you were quick to get on your knees doing whatever he wanted. nanami being himself didn't start until he checked you were okay. "it hurts?" he asked and you shook your head grabbing at his waistband.

"mm mm." you hummed pulling his pants and underwear down. he popped your hand like a kid in a cookie jar.

"no hands, if you don't listen i'll use the belt., he said and you knew he meant it. your hands went behind your back as nanami's thick cock slapped against your face. "i'm not holding back tonight so if it's too much you know what to say."

before you even had the chance to reply to him his dick was down your throat. you gagged as both his hands found their way to your hair gripping your braids tightly. he fucked your face so hard spit was bubbling around his cock. your eyes water as nanami's thrust into your mouth.

"fuck sweetheart..." he groaned under his breath as his hips kept up the pace. you pushed at his legs and he stopped his thrust. "you're doing so good so i'll give you one last chance to move your hands." he said and you complied. he knew you were okay because you'd tap him if you couldn't take it.

"mmmmm," you hummed getting turned on just by his grunts and groans as his cockhead roughly hit the back of your throat. his dick twitching in your throat as he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

"since you're being a good girl i'll... hah... let you pick where you want it," he grunted still roughly fucking your throat. he pulled out your mouth jerking himself as he looked down at your teary eyes. mascara running down your pretty brown cheeks that would be painted red if not for your melanin.

"my face," you said not needing to even think about where you wanted it.

"s'fucking nasty wanting me to cum in your face pretty girl." nanami couldn't deny how good you looked as he stroked himself over your face. his head thrown back his lip tucked into his teeth as he grunted releasing all over your face. his white hot cum painting your face.

he roughly gripped your chin wiping his cum from your lips and your cheek. he pushed his thumb into your already open mouth. you lips latch on his thumb sucking all his thick and salty cum off his finger. licking around your lips making sure you got all that you could off your face.

he leaned down and grabbed the back of your neck kissing you roughly. you grabbed his now wrinkled dress shirt pulling him on top of you. sure the ground wasn't the cleanest place but it was the dining room rug. nanami smirked down at your urgency.

"you can't be in that big of a rush to get punished sweetheart." he laughed and you gulped at his sinister smirk. usually, he held a nonchalant expression but at this moment you could read his expressions. he leaned down sloppily kissing your lips and pushing his spit into your mouth.

"i just need you," you whined and he laughed... he actually laughed at you. it wasn't a hehe-haha laugh no it was almost menacing. he pulled up your nightgown to your waist seeing your soaked panties.

"you were that turned on from just sucking me off? hm?" he asked as he pulled off your panties. you whined when the cool air hit you soaked folds you becoming more needy by the minute.

you were so wet you didn't need foreplay all it took was nanami rubbing his tip against your clit. he let a dribble of spit fall from his lips landing on his cock. he rubbed it coating his cock with your essence and his saliva. using his thumb he pushed himself in only the tip. pulling out just to put the tip back in again.

"kenn~" you couldn't take him teasing you with just the tip. he wanted you to beg him to fuck you and you knew all the things he wanted to hear. you didn't get punished often but when you did you knew exactly what he wanted. "please fuck me m'sorry for not telling you~" you whined.

"what else sweetheart, what else are you sorry for?" he said pushing a little more into you now. he grunted feeling you tighten around him your cunt begging for more.

"m'sorry for getting too drunk and for acting up," you whined your nails gripping at the rug under you. it took everything in you to not run your fingers in his hair or drag your nails down his back. "fuck me pleasepleasepleaseplease can't take it."

"such a good girl." he mewls out pushing into you all the way bottoming out in your soaking pussy. he drowned in your wetness as he began to quickly thrust into you. his hips snapped into you like there was no tomorrow. he loved the way you hugged his cock like you were made just for him.

"you're fucking me so good daddy oh my ngh." you moaned back arching off the rug as his hands rested on the back of your thigh. he pushed them against your chest as his cockhead rubbed against your g-spot. bringing you closer and closer to your climax each time.

"are you close pretty girl? i feel it... i feel you." he whispered and your body twitched under him just from the words he said. "barely even fucked you and you're already creaming on me. look at your mess." he told you and you looked down at his cream-coated cock that was covered in your cream. a wet spot now visible on his khakis that wasn't doing anything but turning him on more.

"m'cumming." you squealed as your orgasm ripped through you. nanami smiling as your hands instinctively went to his thigh pushing him. he wanted you to give him a to tie up your hands with a belt. he knew overstimulating you would do it with no problem.

"i gave you two chances didn't i?" he asked pulling off his belt and making you whine.

"m'sorry it was too much." you pleaded and he shook his head pulling out of you.

"turn around," he said as you slowly flipped over you didn't bother putting an arch in your back. he used his belt as a makeshift cuff restraining your hands behind your back. nanami gripped your hips using his thumbs to fix your arch. "there you go..." he hummed pushing himself into your pussy that was dripping onto the rug beneath you.

"shitttt..." you whined as nanami grabbed your restrained arms tightly. angling his hips up to fuck up into and menacing slow pace.

"get so close ta' cumming every time i get in your wet pussy." he grunted his mouth getting filthier and filthier as he felt your walls flutter around him. he sped up his pulling you back further bullying your pussy.

"ken!" you yelped as his cock bullied its way into your chest, or at least it felt like that. your stomach bulging from his big cock thrusting into your womb. he was a mess drowning in your wetness loving the way you moaned his name. or the way you moaned in general the sound music to his ears.

he was edging closer and closer nutting and he was trying to hold off. but it was undeniable that you both were reaching your second climax in no time. he let go of your restrained hands wrapping both of them around your neck.

he kept up the relentless pace as you yelled out. nanami wasn't used to the rough and super fast-paced fucking. pushing him further over the edge as he grunted making pointed thrusts into you.

"fuck sweetheart i’m about to cum. you'll let me breed this pussy right?" he asked as you nod and he continued roughly pounding into you. "use your words y/n."

"yes bread your pussy." you moaned not even realizing what you said.

"my pussy? hm? you wanna be a mommy? want to be pregnant with my baby?" he was just saying anything as his climax was threatening to rip through him. "shit m’cumming."

"me too," you whimpered as he thrust into you one final time until the two of you came together. he let out a guttural groan as he released in you, his seed spilling out as he still stuffed you full. nanami pulled out letting go of your neck and using his thumb to push his cum back into you.

"you're really going to give me a baby?" he asked out of breath looking you deep in your eyes as he unbuckled the belt. he lifted you up in his lap as you both pressed your foreheads together.

"you always gave me dilf vibes anyway," you whispered and he laughed at your statement.

"i heard milf pussy was the best," he said and you gasped.

"kento that's so inappropriate!" you yelped swatting at his arm. he gawked at your audacity to call him inappropriate.

"sweetheart we just had sex on the floor of our dining room." he said and you covered your ears. "okay sorry." he laughed pecking your lips three times.

and indeed 9 months later you and nanami were the hottest milf and dilf in a 50-mile radius.

[narcjsistx]

little nsfw scenario, DNI if you're a minor <3 ; words: 0.6k

Imagine, you and RIN ITOSHI in the dark corridor of the cinema of your city, with Sae in the next room who has no idea what is happening between his brother and his best friend, who doesn't know that before he came home his best friend was on his brother's lap, and that Rin was going crazy with your cunt completely pressed against his thighs :(

And that now that the three of you are at the cinema, Rin couldn't help but follow you when you said you were going to the bathroom. if you think you can leave him in this uncomfortable situation for so many hours, you are wrong!

As you are about to reach the bathroom door, you feel a familiar hand blocking you; Rin stands before you, his hand gripping your wrist, a mixture of desire and hesitation in his eyes. His breathing is slightly ragged, his body moving on its own accord as he pushed you against the wall, his face now mere inches away from yours. Taken by surprise, you feel his hands take you from under your thighs, lifting you up and placing you at another height. In an instant, his lips crash against yours, kissing you fiercely, his body pressing you even harder against the wall: his hands grip your thighs tightly, bringing you closer to him as he devours your lips, the kiss filled with a mix of passion and desperation, as if he's finally giving into the desire that's been building up within him all this time. You are surprised by the passion with which he kisses you, and for a few seconds you don't move... but when you realize, you respond to his kiss, running your hands through his hair. Rin lets out a soft groan as you respond to his kiss, his body shivering. He kisses you even harder, his tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring and tasting you with an intensity that surprises even himself

He leans in, his lips hovering just above your neck, his breath hot against your skin "You're driving me crazy..." he whispers, his hand now sliding underneath your shirt, feeling your bare skin against his touch. Rin's hand moves to your breast, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. He feels the way you gasp in response to his touch, a small smirk forming on his lips "You like that, don't you...?" he whispers, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin. His teeth graze against your skin, biting

Rin takes your moans as a response as a cue to continue, his lips and teeth roaming across your neck, leaving love bites and soft kisses as he goes. He continues to kiss and bite, his hand still moving gently on your breast, his actions now becoming more urgent, more hungry "You taste so good..." he murmurs against your skin. You are left speechless, feeling how he can make you dumb with just his touch; Rin can feel the effect his touch has on you, the way you're left at his mercy. It only serves to fuel his desire even further, his touches now becoming even more intimate and possessive. He leans in, his lips now right next to your ear, his voice low and rough "I want you... I need you..." he whispers, his hand now squeezing your boob, as his fingers focus on your needy and red nipple

He holds you, his hands still under your thighs "Wrap your legs around me..." he commands, his voice rough and needy. Rin growls appreciatively as you obey his command, his hips pressing against yours tightly as your legs wrap around his waist. He can feel the way your bodies are connected now, the heat between you only growing more intense. He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb tracing your jawline as he looks at you with desire "You're mine... all mine..."

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[cryptidbear]

YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

[yinyuedijun]

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)

[08crll]

🎨💐 246; GYEONG-SEOK HEADCANONS.

sfw & nsfw! <3

desc: 1.9k words. i NEED this man, i wish he was real. an angel loses its wings everytime this man gets written ooc 💔 so hopefully this one is in character.

sfw. gender-neutral!reader.

★ this man LOOOOVES cuddles. look at him. it doesn’t matter if you prefer being the big spoon or the Iittle spoon一he just wants to feel you close to him before he sleeps and when he wakes up.

★ he's probably a little touch starved too. but he would never say it, not because he doesn’t want to appear weak or anything, he just doesn’t want to scare you away.

★ if u were to ask him what his love language was, he’d say it was quality time or acts of service but, really, that’s only what be wants to provide that for his partner. what he really want is physical touchh:( and words of affirmation!!

★ crafty guy. he would make u cards, letters and those paper origami flowers. it doesn't even have to be on special occasions, sometimes you just come home from your work and he surprises you with a new paper craft he discovered. made out of anything he could recycle. be it a receipt, a paper bag, newspaper.

★ very touchy. but not in a bad way. always asking if you're okay with it.

★ this man probably gets all flushed and shy when you call him handsome.

call him your good looking boy and he already has that sweet smile you always loved to see. burying his face on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair.

“what’s with all your sweet words?” his voice muffled by your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“can i not call you handsome?”

“aahh.. quit it,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you down the couch and peppering your face with kisses.

★ loves hugging you from behind, especially when you cook or you’re at the grocery store. you’d be looking at the list of things you needed to restock on while he pushed the cart not too far behind you.

was it powder or liquid detergent? you thought to yourself, pulling out the list from the back pocket of your pants. then, out of nowhere do you feel arms around your waist, warm hands settling on your hips. “where's our cart?” you murmured with a smile. gosh, you were just starting to freeze under the cold air conditioner of this damn store.

“its fine. ‘just right behind us,” gyeong-seok reassures you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. he really couldn’t care less if people stare. he wants them to see how much he loves you. “is this okay..?” he whispered, his breath tickling your jaw.

you just chuckle, not bothering to give him a verbal response. instead, you lean back into his touch. your back pressed against his chest. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, pulling his head up to place a soft kiss on that sensitive spot of your neck.

★ definitely has multiple drawings and doodles of you in his sketchpad. never shows you because he’s afraid you might think he’s being a bit much.

★ musician!reader & him? perfect pair. art recognises art! when he hears you playing your instrument in a different room, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and carefully walks to where you were to watch you do your stuff. if na-yeon is home, he’d definitely bring her with him.

★ always has his eyes on you even during times when he probably shouldn’t, like when the two of you are having a conversation with na-yeon’s teacher about how well she’s been doing in her classes. or when you were having dinner with your parents. you were explaining how you met him and he just admires you like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

★ adding onto the previous one, because of how often he just stares at you; you often mistook this as him spacing out and not listening but he actually was listening to every single word you said. your voice sounded like heaven to him, how could he not? when you ask him to recite what you just said, you were surprised to see how he got it right, word for word.

★ definitely the type to go out of his way to do something because he thinks you’d like it. during one of your library dates, he catches you picking up a book about poetry, complimenting the work inside and how beautiful people write when they’re in love. after that day, he definitely went home and wrote multiple poem drafts about you.

★ speaking of dates!! this man would be the type to apologise to you because he can’t take you to those fancy restaurants. you had to remind him multiple times that eating at fine dinings wasn’t really your thing anyway, that it made you self-conscious to be around such fancy people. he frowned, thinking you were just saying that so he’d stop apologising and you knew just how to cure that.

“you know.. i always did have a soft spot for library dates.”

his face lit up and ever since then, he never forgets to take you on your weekly library dates. it was a good place to unwind as well. killing one bird with two stones; spending quality time with you knowing that you actually enjoy being here, and being able to have some peace and quiet.

★ the protective and worried type!! always texting “are you home?” after dropping you off at your place. “are you tired? do you want to sleep?” as much as he’d love to text you up until the early morning even if it meant he had no sleep when he got to work tomorrow, he doesn’t want you to be sleep deprived.

★ i’ve seen other ppl say this and i just can’t get it out of my head; he’s probably insecure about himself whenever you introduce him to your friends and your family :(

when you invite him to attend a dinner party, telling him it was just a get together with some old friends from your hometown, he misheard you.

“you should definitely go! i know how much you miss your friends,” he beamed, giving you a thumbs up.

you furrowed your brows. “honey.. wait, no, i want you to come with me, yeah?”

he looks at you confused. you want to bring him with you? for what? he was never the type to be jealous of you attending events by yourself. maybe it was because he trusted you or maybe because he didn’t want to hold you back. he knew you to be too good for him. a single father, struggling to make ends meet and provide for his sickly daughter—it wouldn’t be much of a shock to him if you ghosted him out of nowhere or if you leave him for another person. please give this man some reassurance!!! :(

★ always wakes up before you in the morning. his fingers trailing across your face while he admires the way the sun shines behind you making it look like you were glowing. he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but my god, did he consider himself the luckiest man alive for that reason.

★ loves it when you cup his face with both your hands. he’ll have the biggest and silliest smile on his face when you do so.

nsfw! gender-neutral & fem!reader.

★ a soft dom, but would gladly be submissive if you asked.

★ as we already know, he’s a very good listener, even in bed. he’s always listening to the way you moan, the sound of your whine, the pitch. does flicking his tongue feel good? he’d ask but he had a feeling that the sound of you already gave him the answer.

★ probably would prefer to be intimate in comfortable spaces. although he would never object if you offered to give him a quickie, each time he’d remind you of how you never needed to do this. that he’d take care of it himself.

“you don’t have to. it’ll go away. i can—”

“i want to. please?”

how could he say no to those eyes?

★ prioritizes your comfort above anything else, above his own. if you were in an awkward place, but you really needed to get off—needed him—he would hold your hand firmly. “i’ll take you home, come on,” he’d say as he pulls you next to him.

★ loooves having you ride him, but he worries that it’ll tire you out too much

★ when your face gets sweaty, hair clinging to your forehead with your mouth open, he makes sure to brush your hair back with his fingers. he wants to see your flushed and fucked out face clearly, wants to see if he’s doing good

★ always preps you beforehand. he can’t stand the thought of hurting you, even IF you’ve done it countless times before.

reaching for the zipper of his jeans as he gently swats your hand away. “i need to prep you first, honey..” he cooed, pulling your pants down. he knows how eager you are, but he needs to take care of you first.

★ the only times he wouldn’t prep you would probably be when he’d be the sub. you ordering him around, telling him what to do and what not to do

★ subtle touches doesn’t get him turned on right away (he’s more mature than that. he’s not a pervert) this probably also means that he’s a little oblivious to your advances, you’d have to tell him directly what you needed or wanted of him and watch as his eyes widen, looking around to see if na-yeon heard the two of you. “honey.. are you sure?”

★ there would be times when you’d show off your skin and instead of him getting aroused, he’d just be in awe of your beauty. i mean, he probably IS aroused but he just doesn’t go insane over it.

★ breeding kink, FOR SURE, but he always asks first.

“can i come in you, baby? please?”

“i’m so close.. ‘so close..”

“pleaseee...” paired by him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

★ doesn’t like BDSM. i mean, he’s a father now. also hates the thought of hurting you purposefully. he’d also probably never say it, but he doesn’t like getting degraded as well :( just give this man some praises, he’s already sad enough as is!

★ saw ppl saying he has a daddy kink and im just like nooooo 💔💔 he has a daughter that literally calls him daddy, why would he ever want you to call him that in the bedroom?

★ his rhythm would be slow and gentle, wanting to feel all of you and be with you in the moment. you would have to beg this man to go faster

★ the type to hold your hair back during blowjobs. he’d probably accidentally pull on it when you flick your tongue over his tip, but apologies would quickly come spilling out of his lips.

“‘m sorry.. sorry, honey.. i didn’t mean to.. fuck, that felt good..”

★ always reminding you of how beautiful you are while his cock is buried deep inside you.

“you’re so beautiful like this.. taking me in so well..”

“yes, that’s it.. c’mon.. you’re so pretty..”

★ he makes sure you come before he does, and when he does come (whether it’s in you or on you) he takes a minute afterwards to take a breath while you feel his cock still half-hard inside you.

“i love you so much.”

“you did so good f’me..”

★ aftercare king 🫡🫡

a/n: there are literally no fics of him (x reader) on ao3 so i have turned to tumblr bc tumblr RARELY disappoints when it comes to content for side characters 🙏

[keollipop]

going to the fish store w/ crush!leehan ~ headcanons

crush!leehan who... is actually pretty shy about his fish-keeping hobby around you. not because he doesn't trust you, but because he doesn't want to scare you off by being "too much"

crush!leehan who... decides to invite you to the fish store because it's his favorite place. favorite place with his favorite person, y'know?

crush!leehan who... instantly smiles 10x brighter when you happily agree to go

crush!leehan who... introduces you to the owner of the store- explaining that they're long time friends due to how often he frequents his store. you think it's endearing, even if you are slightly confused at first as to why leehan is friends with a 50 year old shop owner.

crush!leehan who... waits for you to point out a fish that catches your eyes- before proceeding to infodump on the species and it's care requirements.

crush!leehan who... is always inching closer to you subconciously. tapping his head against yours as y'all peer into tanks, shuffling his feet to be closer to you when you take a few steps forward, turning his body away from any other customers and towards you.

crush!leehan who... starts holding your hand sometime between the third aisle. you think it's cute how he squeezes your hand ever so slightly when he gets excited about the swimming creatures.

crush!leehan who... ends up walking out of the store with nothing- for the first time in what feels like forever. what else could he have possibly needed when he had you?

crush!leehan who... sends you a "thanks for listening to my fish facts" text when you get back home <3

guys i learned how to do the gradient text ! ~ 🍈

we were able to write this bc i have my cheez-itz. the power of cheez-itz....not sponsored ~ 🍓

[lostinlovingrevery]

Audacious

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

A/N: I'm ovulating and this came over me. I imagined 70s! DOFP Logan, or Worst! Wolverine but you could really picture any Logan honestly. I need a cigarette after writing this

Plot: You ghosted him, and he came back to take whats his.

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, CNC/DUBCON (but like reader really enjoys the fight/chase), Logan gets a little dark and possessive, rough sex, Unprotected PiV, multiple creampies, bondage, reader passes out a couple times and Logan doesn't stop, mention of oral (f! recieving), Logan gets surprisingly soft and a lil embarrassed by himself at the end

Word Count: 3297

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your purse, sticking them into the lock of your apartment door. It’s been a long day, and you wanted nothing more but to go inside, take a hot bath, and relax for the next two days that you have off. 

The moment you stepped inside, all the hairs on your body stood up. You felt a presence looming in your apartment. It was pitch black inside, your curtains were pulled shut, and all the lights were off. This wasn’t how you left the place this morning. There was a lingering scent of cigars, something extremely familiar. A sinking feeling of anxiety floated down your stomach, as you squinted, fumbling in the dark for the closet lamp. Your hand found the string of a lamp and pulled the switch. 

“Welcome home.” 

Logan was sitting in your chair as if he made himself at home in your apartment. He leaned back, legs spread, the seams of his snug jeans pulling tight over his muscular thighs, his belt buckle gleaming from the lamp light reflecting on it. His arms resting on the arms of the chair, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a glass of whiskey in one hand, holding it lazily by the rim. 

You yelped, dropping your bag and keys and covered your mouth in surprise, stumbling back. 

“Logan!” You yelled, your hands falling to your side, fists clenched. “What are you- You can’t be coming in here without telling me!” 

“I was just dropping by.” He says, swirling his drink in the glass, before bringing it up to his lips. The way he acted so casually made you nervous, your fight or flight instinct was kicking into gear. “Haven’t heard from you in awhile.” 

You met Logan Howlett a few months ago. You immediately fell for his charms, his smart mouth, and his sinisterly good looks. You went on a few dates and thought you felt a connection. Logan on the other hand though, couldn’t seem to be farther away from connecting to you. He acted aloof and stoic, rarely would he really try to connect with you during dates and you began to question whether this would go anywhere. You always put in the effort to call, plan the dates, and make the conversations. When you brought it up, he shrugged you off and his casual and uncaring demeanor turned you off immediately.  

So you dropped him.

You stopped calling, you stopped making the effort to see him. Honestly, you believed he wouldn’t notice by the way his mind always seemed to be somewhere else. Admittedly, your feelings were a bit hurt, you did really like Logan- you thought you saw something in him, that he would open up to you; but you refused to let a 3 month fling get to you. You hadn't even had sex yet, only having done oral on each other a few times.

It’d been a month since and you’ve begun to realize you made the right choice because he never reached out. 

Until now.

“Well, you could have called.” You scoffed. “Not break into my apartment! How- How did you get in here?” 

“Not important.” He clicks his tongue, moving to set his glass on the nearby table, atop a coaster. The clink of the glass made you flinch, as your stomach turned and you wondered about Logan's intentions because surely they weren’t innocent. Especially with the way his eyes were trailing down your body, staring at you like a predator looking at prey. 

“You- You should leave Logan. I’ll- I’ll call you.” You say, forcing a smile, as you bring your shaky hands to your chest, stepping back to your door. 

He smiled, stretching across his face, his head giving a little shake. “No you won’t.” he hums, tipping his chin up. With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the chair, and for a moment you felt relief as he walked towards you. His heavy footsteps weighed against the floor, a creak with each step as he stalked over to you. You moved to open the door for him, turning the knob and pulling it- but he slammed it shut, the press of his palm against the wood. His hand slid down and he turned the lock. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes as you took a few steps back from him. 

“You look scared darling.” He states, standing over you. He reached out, brushing some hair behind your ear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You swallowed, your hands trembling, and your heart pounding. “Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see my girl.”

Your face fell, and you shook your head in confusion. “What? No, no Logan, I'm not your girl.” You state firmly. “You acted like you could be any less interested in me whenever we went out together.” 

He quirked a brow, a very faint twitch of his lips. 

“I mean, I tried to bring it up to you but you brushed me off. I stopped calling a month ago, did you only just now notice?” You asked in disbelief, crossing your arms. Your nerves began to disappear, as an angry confidence began to take root. “How could you sit and call me your girl when you wouldn’t tell me if you wanted us to date? Then you show up to my apartment like you care or something?” You scoffed. You stared at him, brows creased angrily and lips turned downwards in a frown. All your frustrations came out, as you began to realize that Logan had gotten under your skin more than you cared to admit. 

“You done?” He asks. You scowled.

“Logan. Leave. We are done.” You say, reaching to turn the lock and open the door. Before you knew it, his hand was on your neck as you were pushed into the wall, as his lips crashed onto yours in a messy and possessive kiss. You struggled against him, hands coming up to try to pull him off you, before you pushed at his chest, and twisted your head away. “Logan!”

“We’re done when I say we’re done.” He mutters against your lips, his breath fanning over your face and sending goosebumps through your body. You swallowed, your body trembling as you brought your hands up to his hand around your neck, gripping him gently to try to get him to loosen his grip.

“Lo, let- let me go.” You beg softly. 

“You think I didn’t care darling?” He asks quietly in a low voice, tilting his head so his lips brush along your cheek. “That's why you stopped calling?”

A quiver of your lips, as you felt your eyes water, and you nodded. He let out a soft breath, almost like he was disappointed and he tuts. 

“I care sweetheart.” He says softly. “I’m gonna show you that I really care.” 

His lips pressed to yours, and you kissed him back- only for a moment. His hand loosened around your neck, moving to cup your jaw instead. The feeling of his lips against yours, desperate, romantic, needy. He licked your bottom lip, and you allowed him in. He licked into your mouth, against the back of your teeth, moving to press himself closer to you. 

You took the chance and kneed him in the crotch. 

“Shit!” He groaned falling back from you, you took the chance to shove him away, moving to run further into your apartment. You didn’t get far, Logan's recovery time from getting kneeled in the dick seemed remarkably fast. He grabbed your arm, pulling you against him. “That was cruel.” He says his tone was a bit more lighthearted, with a bit of humor behind it.

“You are a bastard!” You struggled to pull away from him, but he only chuckled. He moved down, kissing you again despite you fighting against him. It was pathetic, considering the man was much bigger, and much, much, stronger than you. You were merely a rabbit in the mouth of a wolf. 

“Stop struggling.” He murmurs against your lips, capturing them once more in a heated kiss. For a moment, you fell into him, feeling your mind go fuzzy at the way his hands gripped your arms, keeping you close. His beard scratched at your face, and his scent was overwhelming you. The smell of men's cologne and his natural musk mixed together. “You can’t get away from me, pretty girl. Try as you might” He moans against your mouth. 

His words spurred you on to fight again, as you struggled and shoved him away. 

“No! No Logan!” You pant. “I don’t want this, and I don’t want you.” 

The arousal that was soaking your panties said otherwise. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your veins were thrumming with adrenaline. You loved this, even if you acted otherwise. You wanted him to chase you, and you wanted him to take you, make you his girl. A few months of him not paying you much mind, of you chasing him. If he wants you, he’ll get you; but he has to work for it first. You wanted him to fuck you, and see how far he’ll go to claim you. 

He sniffed, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes turned dark as he stalked towards you. “I don’t think that’s true sweetheart.” He says in a low voice. You swallowed, stepping back into the hallway that led to your bedroom. He was inches away from you. “You’re gonna play hard to get? That’s fine. We can play.” He says a small shrug. 

His hands reached out to your blouse and a quick movement ripped it open. You gasped, your hands coming to cover your chest. “I always win though, and I’ll take what I want.” 

You turned to run into the bedroom, but he was faster, grabbing you around the waist and slamming you onto the bed, the mattress creaking as you bounced on it a few times from the force. He stood over you, his hands reaching down and ripping your bra apart in one swift motion.

“Logan!” You gasped before his hands came and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. His mouth came down, taking a nipple between his lips, his tongue running over the bud, stimulating you. You felt heat rush through your body, another coat of arousal. His thigh pushed between your legs, as he grinded it against your core. 

You whined, squirming and fighting underneath him as he attempted to work you over. He nipped at your peak bud, before growling in frustration at your constant squirming. He stood up, letting go of you and flipping you over onto your belly. You attempted to crawl away, but he kneeled on the bed, sitting his weight on you and keeping you pinned. 

“Since you won’t stop squirming…” He mutters. You heard the clink of his belt. Your arms were pulled back behind you, and you felt the leather binding your elbows together. Once secure, he stood from the bed and flipped you back over onto your back. 

He pushed your skirt roughly up your thighs, exposing your panties. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing over the fabric that covered your cunt. “Fuck. Acting like you don’t want this like you don’t want me.” He shook his head. “You’re fucking soaked pretty girl.” 

He ripped your panties off, sticking himself between your legs, pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his hard cock popping out, tapping against his belly a few times. 

“Normally I’d take my time but since you gotta act like a brat….” He mutters, hooking his arms around your legs, pulling you closer, “We’ll just have to skip to the good part.” 

He aimed himself against your wet pussy, and in one quick thrust pushed himself inside you. You yelped from the intrusion, arching your back. He felt so damn good. His hard cock stretches you open perfectly. He let out a guttural groan, tipping his head back. “Fuuuck yeah-” He grinned sinfully, eyes shut as he let out a hard pant.

“You’re so fucking wet-” He moaned. His hands grabbed your hips, and he began pounding into your pussy, abusing it with each thrust. You turned your head to the side, gasping and panting as he continued to fill you to the brim over and over. The bed shook violently as he thrust into you, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling you down onto him. 

You were powerless against him, forced to take what he was giving you. “You’re mine baby.” He grunted. “Ain’t no argument about it now.” 

He leaned down over you, his throbbing cock deep inside you, his chest pushed into the back of your thighs as your legs came up to your chest. You turned your head away from him, and he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He squeezed your cheeks, making your lips pucker as he leaned forward, kissing you, his tongue shoving into your mouth roughly. Your pussy tightened around him, causing him to chuckle warmly into your mouth. “Acting like you don’t fucking like this-” He grunted, thrusting harshly into you, eliciting a pained gasp from your lips. “Your pussy does, she’s fucking squeezing me tight. You love this, don’t you? Me taking what I want from you.”

You let out a moan, tipping your head back. You finally nodded and didn’t have to look at him to see that cocky grin on his face. 

“Damn fucking straight.” He growls. “You’re gonna fucking take it all.” His thrusts became more frantic, rougher. He leaned down, biting your neck, as he slammed into you with a ferocity you never felt before. It was so much, he was too much, as you felt an explosive finish approaching quickly. “Fucking stupid, acting like I didn’t care about you. I’ve been fucking obsessed with you since day 1.” He groaned into your neck. 

The admission made you snap. Your eyes rolled back as you let out a cry of his name. Your body shook, as your pussy squeezed and spasmed around him, so tight he could barely pull out.  He grunted, slamming into you one more time, before moaning so loud you’re pretty sure the neighbors could hear, and you felt his cum fill you up. 

A moment passed, and he sat up, pulling out of you. He flipped you over, onto your belly, pushing you further up the bed. He let you lay there, trembling with his cum leaking out of you, while he shed the rest of his clothes off, and then pulled off your skirt, leaving you in just your torn bra and blouse. 

He kneeled back onto the bed clambering over you and grabbed your hips, bringing your ass into the air.

“You look good like this sweetheart.” He mumbled, his thumb brushing over your puffy pussy, before capturing the cum that was leaking inside you, pushing it back in. You whined, squirming under him, too sensitive to his touch. 

“Logan…” You gasped.

“I’m not done with ya.” He says, adjusting the both of you, and you feel his tip slide back inside you, an embarrassing squelching noise in the room as he fills you up again. 

“Ah!” You whimpered. How was he hard again already? “Lo-” 

“I don’t think you get it darling. You’re mine. I’m gonna fuck that nonsense of me not caring out of you.”

“I believe you!” You gasped, as he harshly slammed into you, the bed slamming into the wall. You didn’t know if you could take him more. He felt so good, yet your nerves felt it was on fire. You didn’t want him to stop. 

He chuckled, “You want me to stop?”

The silence was deafening. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip as you prepared yourself. 

“Good girl.” He purred. His hand grabbed your hair, tugging it back as he began pounding into you again. A chorus of whines escaped you as he fucked you with renewed vigor. His stamina was insane. Your pussy was on fire, the way he stretched you out, his hips slamming into your ass, and you were sure you would end up with bruises everywhere. 

The rest of the night ended up a blur. Logan used you like a fucktoy, and you were fairly sure you passed out multiple times. The first time, you woke up on top of him, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he fucked up into you. The second time, you woke to him eating you out, his tongue swirling over your swollen clit, sending shocks through your body. The third time, your wrists were tied together above your head to the frame of your bed. Your legs spread with Logan on top of you, hands on either side of your hips, as he thrusts into you slowly, almost romantically. He leaned down to pull a soft kiss from you. 

Your body felt numb, yet the pleasure still enveloped you, as you felt the honey-sweet feeling pooling in your belly again.

“C'mon baby. One more for me.” He moaned, resting his body over yours, pressing soft kisses over your face. “I know you can do it.”

He brought his fingers between your sweat-soaked bodies. There were countless bite marks and hickeys that covered your body. His fingers found your clit and began rubbing it, his thrusts still slow and soft. 

Within seconds, your legs were trembling, as your pussy tightened around him again, and he tipped his head back, his pace picking up as he felt you tighten and pulse around him. He fucked you through your orgasm once more, before finally finishing inside, a loud curse and moan of your name, as he panted, eyes shut tight as the last bit of his energy finally drained inside you. He collapsed on your chest, his arms still somewhat bracing himself up, keeping his full body weight off you. 

He sighed, pushing himself out, and you heard a snikt!, as you watched in amazement and exhaustion as sharp metal claw-like appendages came out, and he carefully cut the cloth around your wrists, your arms falling limply above your head. He climbed off you, rolling to your side, and pulling you against him, your cheek against his chest. You didn’t bother to ask about the sharp knife-like pieces that just came out of his fists and then disappeared.

“You alright?” He asks softly, his hand massaging up and down your back. “Too much?” 

“Mmm.” You barely mumbled, as your eyes grew heavy again. You were too tired for pillow talk now. 

A small chuckle. “Y’know. I really do care about you. I just…Some things are going on in my life, things I’m a part of, that I haven’t told you about. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring you into that part of my life yet. I uh…Thought you’d be safer.” 

You opened your eyes at his admission. His voice was soft, in a tone you hadn’t heard from him before. 

“I honestly was relieved when you stopped calling. Cause I was constantly wondering if I was selfish being with you. I thought it’d be easier that you broke it off because I couldn’t bring myself to do it but then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Missed you a lot and I guess I got a little…Possessive.”

“You think?”

Another scoff escaped him, and his hand came around your arm, his fingertips softly tracing up and down your arm. “Yeah well…When you recover, we should talk about some things.”

“Like the claws?” You asked. 

“Yeah, like the claws...”

“We should talk about you breaking into my apartment too.”

“Uh…Yeah…” He says, a tone of embarrassment. “I’ll...Explain everything tomorrow.”

[ressjeon]

for the drabble event i wanted to ask if you could

jjk

eros + pragma

row 3+seat 1

chips + bottled water + slushie

i’m so excited and i can’t wait to see how you’ll write it,, i’ve never requested something before and youre one of my favorite authors <3

pairing: roommate!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

summary: the normal way of trapping your adorable roommate in your allure has been leading to nowhere, prompting you to approach him in subtle ways until you become irresistible in his eyes.

genre/au: angst, smut, roommate!au, college!au

warnings/content: explicit sexual content, jealousy, free use?fingering, doggy, backshots, angry sex? humiliation cuz kookie's mean :(

a/n: it's been 3 years since you've requested this anon and for that i apologize. i hope you'll still manage to see/read this now though and thank you for requesting! i'm honoured to be one of your favourite authors <3

☞ part of @btsgoldnetwork’s two hearts, one love valentine’s day event in 2022 🎞💓

🍿 bangtan theatre presents: irresistible 🍿 purchases for movie tickets and snacks are now closed!

Jungkook’s confused when he gets a whiff of another sweet scent coming from across his room. For about two weeks now, he noticed his roommate lighting up scented candles and placing them around their shared apartment.

Which is pretty random because you never do things like this. 

He’s wondering what brought you to start using scented candles when you didn't have the slightest interest in it before. Jungkook tried giving you one as a welcome gift when you first became roommates but you never even touched it until these days.

“where did you buy this one?”

You're startled with your roommate's question. It’s the first conversation you have with him regarding your current obsession. He's never acknowledged it verbally although you remember him scrunching his nose when you wore your bold perfume once before going on a date.

“i’m not sure to be honest, it’s a gift”

It is; only one of the many that you received from your long string of admirers. They were hoping that you'll see them more often through these gifts after you expressed your “love” of scented candles.

When in fact, it’s for your gorgeous roommate. 

You’re aware of Jungkook’s fondness for smells and after the direct flirting on him didn't work, you resorted to this. Using those boys for your agenda didn't really impose any guilt within you. They're exactly the same type as you but thankfully, they're pussy whipped that it was so easy to weave them into your plans on getting your roommates attention.

After you realize your fondness and interest are turning into serious feelings for Jungkook, you've expressed your feelings to him as clearly as you could. However, you didn't know how to approach him after his subtle rejections on your usual method.

Your feelings for Jungkook genuinely bloomed that you've stopped bringing guys over even when he's not home. It's a basic rule to respect each other's boundaries; the both of you having an agreement where only one can bring someone over when the other is not home.

Sometimes, Jungkook catches the boys coming out from your room, nodding at them in greeting but then ignores you afterwards. You tried whisking it as him being awkward seeing some people knew knows. Many times, you've contemplated on breaching the subject but he's barely home anyway. When he does, you flirt with him to see if he still gets flustered. He does and when he's in a pleasant mood though, he greets you and you relish them because it's rare.

Just like his smiles.

Jungkook wants to ask who gave those gifts but he already knows. He didn’t need to see the fancy paper bags on the counter to guess where those candles came from. It's given by those boys you’ve been seeing lately, if it's from the same person or multiple people, he's not sure and he doesn't want to find out.

What he's sure of is your reputation. He's aware of you because your popularity even reaches to other universities nearby. You've built your reputation since the start of freshman year so he was a bit hesitant in accepting you as a roommate before.

Another thing he's aware of is that you never take boys seriously hence he’s been wary each time you flirt with him. It seems so natural to you while he gets flustered. You find his reactions amusing though, as if you can’t tell that you do have an effect on him more than you think you do.

"you look great today kookie"

"we should do a movie night!"

"jungkook you're so adorable"

All your attempts at luring him went into dust and you can't figure out why. He can tell from your face each time he doesn't respond to you and does feel bad but he had to. Like a typical scenario, Jungkook did develop feelings for you no matter how much he tried avoiding so. He went as far as focusing on things that hurt him to reduce whatever he feels for you but to no avail and it scared him. He didn’t want to be one of those guys that you drop after sleeping with them.

However, he’s been getting better than before, reaching as far as rejecting you directly.

"you really think i'd believe that you out of all people, like me" he points to himself exaggeratedly but that's not what concerns you.

It's his eyes that are full of loathing after hearing your confession. He just arrived from one of his late lectures to find you preparing dinner for the two of you with a big smile on your face. He didn't read too much into it because you could just be hungry. Although, he should've because your full confession was something that he didn't anticipate.

“what do you mean? come on kookie, why don’t you believe me?” your voice came out a bit whiny when you realized that he's dead serious.

"what? you think i'll give in quickly?"

Maybe it's his ego talking but seeing the uncertainty in your face boosts his confidence a bit. Jungkook doubts other guys were able to make you react this way. He's the first and he'll hold out as long as he can. You've been making it pretty difficult lately but he still can't trust you.

"that was never my intention. i genuinely like you, kook"

"no? didn't you wanna sleep with me? be honest" he barks, crossing his muscular arms across his chiseled chest, challenging you to deny it.

"i-i do but—" you admit, shying your eyes away from his intense gaze.

This confrontation was last on your bingo card for this month. You just wanted to try again, confessing your feelings like a normal person even though it's not something that you're used to. But here Jungkook is, breaking your heart into pieces like none of those ever mattered to him.

"let's just get this over with" he suddenly says after a few minutes of silence and you didn't even get to process what he's saying cause he's suddenly on you.

Jungkook closes in as he focuses on your lips. Your lips that he wanted to kiss since that morning he found you adorably tip-toeing in the hallways to not wake him up. He had back to back football practice back then along with deadlines that he was extra tired every night because of the lack of sleep.

You welcomed his lips with fervour, closing your eyes and clutching his wrist when he grabbed your jaw to tilt it, deepening the kiss. Believe it or not, you used to dream of this, going as far as imagining that it's Jungkook when you're kissing other guys.

His kisses are harsh, with lots of teeth clashing and he's biting your lower lip for you to grant him entrance in which you did. Jungkook just wants his mind to shut off, to drown in you for once without second guessing his moves and yours.

For all he knows, you could only be playing with him but Jungkook doesn't care about that now. It's funny because it was you who initially pursued him and this time it's him. Jungkook will be damned if he doesn't make sure that he'll be the best you'd ever had. Never mind that you've fucked many guys before; he doesn't even wanna think if you will still fuck other guys after he's done with you.

You've basically given Jungkook free reign, looking at him with glossy eyes as you kneel by the couch after he releases you. Looking at you now, you look behaved while waiting for him. Jungkook could walk away right now to end this, to get back at you real bad but it's too late.

He's held back for too long and he feels like he's going to explode. All his mind can think of is how he's finally got you where you wanted to be. Letting himself go just for tonight would solve something, he's hoping.

Whatever the consequences are after this.

Jungkook doesn't make a move as he undresses, his piercing gaze eyeing you while you're finishing up discarding your clothes. You gauge what he's thinking, only that his pupils have dilated as he scans your bare body.

"why kookie what's wrong? you don't want me to suck you off? come here" you call him invitingly, batting your lashes at him but unlike other boys, Jungkook remains unaffected.

Or maybe not.

"no, you don't deserve it. why would you be?" he goads you and you're left speechless as you stand back up, climbing on the couch in all fours to entice him. "because i like you?" your voice came out quietly, full of desperation, looking back to hopefully catch his eyes.

Jungkook only scoffs as a response, the heel of his large palm pressing the top of your ass to push your body down until you're fully lying on the couch.

"like me? ah yes. but you like many guys y/n, like them enough to fuck them right?" he replies with a menacing tone and once again, you're left trying to process what he means by his questions but that flutters away when the tips of fingers runs along your drenching slit.

He's teasing you of course, he already said you didn't deserve to suck his cock earlier so maybe he'll only give you his fingers. It doesn't matter; it's the furthest you've ever had with Jungkook intimately so you'll just accept whatever he gives you.

Jungkook's waiting until he hears any complaint from you but it's been more than a minute and you've remained except for the heavy breaths you let out the longer he keeps his ministrations on you. He enters one finger to test your tight walls but also to see what you're playing at.

Another finger after a while and you're getting impatient no matter how much you coach yourself that Jungkook's just taking his time with you. When he pushes in the third one, that's when your body jerks, pushing back against his hand.

"there you go. thought i'd have to wait longer" he snickers, increasing the speed of his fingers. "kook—" you whine, unable to hold back your moans anymore.

Then Jungkook stops you by removing his fingers all together.

"up" he instructs and despite your frustrations, you did raise your body, going back on your knees. You didn't want to turn back now just in case you annoy him, wiggling your ass to give him a sign that you're more than ready for his cock.

Jungkook planned to fuck you in the previous position but it's too intimate. Even when he can't see your face, you'd still be so close to his body and it'll crack his barriers. He'd love to fuck you while seeing your face but that would allow you to see how vulnerable he is around you.

"jungkook..please move" you immediately cry out once he pushed in because he stayed still. You're tempted to grind back, your sensitive walls have been clamping around his dick, adjusting to his size that made him grip on your hips tightly.

"who says you can demand anything from me? you're lucky i'm giving you what you want." he spits but he begins moving his hips, ruthless unlike you've imagined before.

Jungkook's wrong. Everything is the opposite of what you wanted. He's barely even touching you, hands never moving from your waist just to hold you steady. Your brain's clouded with the pleasure that he's giving so you focus on that instead; relishing the tightness of his hold depending on his mood.

"kookie—fuck" you scream out when he finally angles his hip, hitting that soft spot inside you that you couldn't help but reach back to grasp his hand. He swats it away and you whine out, he's clearly displeased but maybe this is a way for him to believe you.

Jungkook doesn't want any ounce of affection from you. He's supposed to be mad, well he is, fully enraged with his insecurity that he's never been good enough for you. Plus, he'd be lying to himself that he was never jealous with all those guys you brought over. It's the reason he never stays home long, to avoid seeing them with you but he still did.

He's liked you for months already, showing his affections by cooking you breakfast and doing most of the chores when you're out with your friends or at parties. He never complained even when you started flirting with him, dodging you as much as he could because you're doing it to toy with him.

"just take it will you? acting like you've never had cocks in you before..." he drawls as he speeds up, leaving you mewling with tears welling in your eyes at the wave of humiliation that crashes on you.

You're back to gripping the leather couch when his fingertips brushes your swollen clit, flicking the bud after and you almost came.

But you didn't. Jungkook made sure of that.

All night he repeats teasing and fucking you endlessly until your body convulses, only stopping and doing it again. For a moment, you almost forgot who you're fucking with the amount of stamina that he has. Although you did fuck many athletes before, Jungkook still surprised you with his self control.

"no more.." your voice is hoarse with all the nonstop screaming and thankfully Jungkook stops his ministrations. "n-no, no i wanna cum, please kookie~"

"mhmm..shit..okay"

He's not faring well either but you could barely tell when all you can hear are his deep guttural moans and the skin slapping echoing around. You're both very sweaty but Jungkook's large hands miraculously maintained their grip on your body. Eventually, you both reach your climaxes, having Jungkook pull out and finish on your back to your dismay.

"wanted..inside.." you mumble, nuzzling the couch's arm. You only hear a tsk from him before you feel a piece of clothing rubbing along your sweaty skin. You've closed your eyes at the comfort but tried opening them when he turned your body around.

Then the combination of the mind blowing orgasm and exhaustion knocked you off to sleep. 

You've woken up sore everywhere but it doesn't compare to the ache in your heart when you couldn't see Jungkook anywhere in the living room. You don't even wanna try to get up or call his name in case he's inside his bedroom. He's not but you'd like to hope because of last night.

He took care of you, providing you with your own blanket and pillows after cleaning you up. Thankfully, you had no early lectures today; you were pretty much spent so the energy for attending classes is at total zero.

Not going is a more tempting option for you though, the chance to see Jungkook is high with how involved he is on campus. He's quite popular as well but not on the same type as you which was how he possibly found out this much about your history. You've met other girls who've hooked up with him before, telling you how he's actually more on the subby side which further increases your interest on your roommate.

You blink, realizing you're smiling at the memory.

Reminiscing those memories before you fucked him won't help you at this point. Jungkook for sure hates you now because you proved him right, using your tactics on him so he'll sleep with you. Both you and him did make the decision yes but he probably agreed in order to stop you from pestering him further.

The wise move for you is to forget this ever happened and move out but you won't. You'll prove to Jungkook how serious you are on him no matter how long that may take. You can still fix this you believe; you're never gonna give up on him unless you hear that direct rejection from his pretty lips.

e/n: i haven't really written the loml for almost 2 years now so if it sounds or feels different then that's why 😂 i've been missing him a lot tho so here we are :D

[ronearoundblindly]

This Busy Building

Steve Rogers x agent!Reader, teammates-to-lovers

follow-up to This Lonely Place

Summary: After being rescued from an op-gone-wrong, you and Steve address the elephant in the room.

It's perhaps not as poetic as the last one, but a bit. Keep in mind I have purposefully messed with words, sentences, and structure. Warnings for implied smut, sneaking 'orbs' into this, thirsty thoughts, weirdly Christmas-themed because I took too long to write it YIKES! (There's word-mirroring from the original in this which might not strictly make sense if you didn't read that, fyi, but it's not a huge deal.)

Visions of him dance in your head...

The jingling soundtrack of holiday cheer repeats in the common room while you read. Everyone dances around, tucking away the last of work before going home. A fire place blazing needlessly, too close you, closer than Steve in the huge armchair opposite yours.

Opposites interact. Searing ice and neutral air. Insufferable silence trapped in the open forest then a pounding, humming reverb in the packed medivac. Him and...not you.

Not anymore.

Treated separately. Treated differently. Steve nearly fine. You nearly dead. At first two medics between you, then ten agents, then hundreds of employees; separate even when you two return to rooms together.

Always others--two or tens or hundreds--and zero words since. No direct connection of touch or tone, only a sad and withering glance here and there.

You're fine.

The same-old will be fine. You've warmed to the idea. Your hope for more has cooled.

Without the threat of danger, Steve has no reason to get close, certainly not as close as before, not as close as begging you not to claw at your clothing while hypothermia sets in, not as close as pinning you harshly with both legs and both arms and a forehead pressed to yours.

Please. Please. Please hang on.

You still want to. Fine. That's the truth.

You want to hang on his every word. You want to feel every texture of his suit and his skin, his beard and his breath, grounding and grinding you into the snow.

Please.

You would have begged, too, if your teeth would quit chattering, if your lungs could stop spasming, bleeding your precious heat in billowing wisps of steam past his handsome face. His terrified face...

He looks serene these days. Normal. Still handsome. Not terrified. And he doesn't look at you. He seems to never look directly at you.

Too cold. Too close.

Now too far...and too hot.

Just as suddenly as that mission went south, a pile of cookies set on the table between you tilts eyes north, his hand reaching at the same time as yours.

There's that withering glance again.

There's that sad, blue gaze.

Opposites interact when the amber flames dance on unwavering orbs. He won't look away, he won't move closer, but he won't slink into the distance either. Steve is stuck on you, in this moment, in the din and the dust, without touching you at all.

His fingers twitch above a snowman, and you want them to be itching to grasp something else. Perhaps your thigh or your waist. Perhaps your face.

The vision of him in the heat...it sustains you while the hundreds become ten, ten becomes two, and finally you're alone with the jingles.

Baby, it's cold outside.

He's sat back, opened his arms, spread his legs, and pulsed an anxious grip into the upholstery, all while attached by nothing but searing air and a neutral room.

The fire has died but the heat crackles on.

Still no words.

You lean forward, pick up the fat, buttery snowman, and slowly close your lips around him. Steve stares. His nostrils flare, resolve chipped away, and you are ready to sink in the depths.

A shiver.

A shiver of sweet hitting your teeth and need hitting your core.

You'll take satisfaction over words. You'll take him over air right now.

Neither of you knows how to get to the other. No one is in danger. No one has been ordered to cross. He's not selfish. You're not bold. There is no excuse.

Wanting him doesn't feel like enough. Wanting him is all you have until--

"Bring me a cookie."

A mission, and you oblige, fast, hard, hot. Everything you've imagined. Everything you've fought. His hands everywhere. Your breath together again.

Sweating. Moaning. Screaming to come.

You won't waste this moment, but you'll be lucky if you survive his passion.

Is it...is it something? Idek anymore.

[thefairywithboots]

Sweet Rest (Loki x fem!Reader)

As requested by @stilleobjection, I present to you Sweet Rest.

Summary: Loki helps you relax after a stressful day at work.

Ratings: General audiences

Warnings: Just pure fluff. Lots of cuddles.

Word count: 1.4K

This is my first non-smutty Loki fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Tag list in comments

It was well after midnight when you finally got home from work and unlocked the door to your apartment, wanting nothing more than to sink into your bed and just forget the day.

Your boss had insisted that you stay overtime and finish the extra paperwork that was left behind by your coworker, causing you to leave five hours later than you normally would.

When you finally got back to your apartment, your head was pounding against your skull. You went into the kitchen and filled the teapot with water to brew some tea. You left the pot on the stove to boil before going into the living room.

When you switched the light on, your heart gave a jolt when you saw a familiar figure sitting in your armchair.

"Christ, Loki- couldn't you give me some kind of heads up that you were coming over?" you breathed out, placing a hand over your heart. You had given him a key to your apartment but had not expected him to come over while you were gone, and just wait in your living room with the lights out.

Loki was sitting there, his arms on either armrest. His long black hair which was usually slicked back hung loose past his shoulders. Even through your stress-induced headache, you could not help but notice how gorgeous he looked right now.

"Well, you weren't answering your phone," he said while standing up from the chair. His tall frame took up a large portion of your living room. You had to crane your neck back to look up at him. "And you're usually not gone for this long, so I thought I would come and see what was wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," you said while rubbing your hand over your forehead to try and ease the pain in your head. "My boss was just making me work enough for both me and my coworker since she left work early today."

Loki's gaze softened as he tilted his head to the side, humming softly. "That doesn't really seem fair to you, does it?"

You shrugged. "I'm getting paid more by the end of the week, so I suppose it's worth it."

The sound of the teapot whistling in the kitchen caught your attention, and you ran back in there to take it off the stove.

While you were tending to the tea, Loki followed you into the kitchen, his tall frame towering over you as he leaned over your shoulder, and placed his hands on your arms. "I think I have a good idea as to how to help you relax." His voice had a way of slithering into your mind as if he were using his magic on you when it was just his voice alone. He kissed down your jawline and to your neck, pulling you against his chest.

Any other night, you would have melted into him and dragged him off to your bedroom to get lost in him completely. But now you felt like all you wanted to do was have your tea and go to sleep.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips against your skin for a moment. You would have let him kiss you all over all night if you thought he would stop there, but he was already massaging your breasts through your blouse.

You shook your head slightly, pulling away slightly. “Not tonight, Loki… I have a headache and it’s been a long day.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not in the mood? You’re always in the mood… are you ill?” He dramatically put a hand to your forehead as if to check your temperature.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s just been a long day, and I’m really tired.” You leaned against his hard chest, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’d like it if we just sat and cuddled for a while.”

Loki’s arms wrapped around you, his chin resting against the top of your head. “Of course, darling… I just want you to feel relaxed.”

Loki told you to go and make yourself comfortable on the sofa and he would bring you the tea. You dimmed the lights, the slightest light making your brain want to jump from your skull.

He brought the tea into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you before pouring you a cup.

“Here you are, darling…” he said while handing you the cup and saucer. You took a sip, the familiar warmth of chamomile relaxing you slightly.

“I really hate my boss…” you muttered.

“Oh? And why is that?” he asked while walking around to the back of the sofa. For a moment, you thought he was going to grab a blanket until you felt his strong hands on your shoulders.

He began to knead the sore muscles in your shoulders, and you resisted the urge to moan out loud. His touch was deliberate and skilful, loosening the strain that had been building up in you all day.

“It just… feels like he expects me to cover up for my coworker when she takes off early… and… she never has to make up for any—“ You cut off, letting out a sigh as he massaged your shoulders more rhythmically. “Loki, that feels so good…”

He hummed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your head towards him at the last moment, causing him to kiss your lips instead.

Heat rose in your cheeks once the kiss broke, and you knew it didn’t have anything to do with the tea. His lips trailed across your cheek and to your neck as his hands continued to work your shoulders. The feeling of his lips made you want to melt into him and forget the rest of the world.

Once your muscles were loose and relaxed, Loki finally came around to sit beside you as you were finishing off your cup of tea. He pulled you into his arms, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. You sighed, snuggling into his hard chest as you settled between his legs, allowing him to envelop you in his warmth.

You could have laid there in his embrace all night, feeling so safe and secure with him wrapped around you. The sound of his heart beating could be heard gently as you rested your head over where his heart was.

“I’m sorry for startling you when you first came in…” he said gently while twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You hummed softly, inhaling his scent; a warm, earthy aroma that had floral undertones. “I’m glad you’re here…”

One of Loki’s arms reached behind him as he took one of the books that was lying on the table next to the lamp. He turned the lamp on the dimmest setting so as not to disturb your eyes as his eyes scanned the cover.

“Jane Austen, huh?” he mused while flipping through the giant tome. It had four novels in one volume.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling as you saw his blue eyes scanning over the pages.

“Loki?”

“Hm?”

“Can you read to me?”

The feel of his lips against the top of your head felt soothing. “I thought you had a headache.”

“I like the sound of your voice… it’s soothing.”

A small smirk came across his handsome face, as his hand began to idly massage your scalp. “Very well. Which of these would you like for me to read to you?”

You hummed. “Whichever one you want. I’ve already read them all.” You buried your head into his chest.

You felt as if you could feel him smirk as he flipped through the book, trying to decide which one appeared the most interesting to him. Every move he made was soft and delicate as if he were afraid of disturbing you. Even the sound of the pages turning was soft and quiet.

Loki began reading to you in a low, gentle tone, and you recognized it as the beginning of Sense And Sensibility. The sound of his voice made his chest rumble against your ear, and you could already feel yourself begin to doze off in his arms.

You must have fallen asleep before he could finish the first chapter, because the next thing you knew, he was pulling a blanket over your shoulders before wrapping both arms around you, holding you close. After pressing a kiss to your forehead, he whispered “I love you.”

He clearly thought you must have still been asleep. He had never told you that before, your relationship having been casual up to this point. But the moment of vulnerability made your heart swell. You kept your eyes closed and your head on his chest as his breathing slowed, and he fell into a quiet doze himself, before allowing the welcoming tendrils of sleep to pull you back under.

[fake-mouthstatic]

moving in together

@bucktommyfluffebruary, day 9. rated G.

💕

"Okay, yeah. Thanks for letting me know."

Buck ends the call, staring blankly at his phone as he tries to figure out how he feels about the news that his apartment is habitable again.

He knows he should be happy.

And yet.

Buck hears the shower shut off and Tommy enters the room a few moments later, a towel wrapped low around his hips as his damp skin steams gently in the cool morning air.

"You okay?" he asks, frowning gently as he moves closer.

"My super just called," Buck says, finally tearing his gaze away from his phone. "My kitchen is done being repaired."

Buck doesn't miss the way Tommy's face goes carefully blank.

read the rest under the cut or on ao3 // other days here

"That's great," he says, turning away from Buck and towards the dresser.

"Yeah," Buck says evenly, flipping his phone nervously over and over in his hands.

The thing is, as unexpected as it was, he's loved living with Tommy the past three weeks.

Even before temporarily moving in, Buck had spent enough time at Tommy's place that it already felt like home, and that was before the fact that he loved coming home to Tommy, loved sleeping beside him every night and waking up beside him every morning, mismatched shifts notwithstanding.

He loved the silly things too, like seeing their shoes side by side in the hall. Brushing his teeth as Tommy showered. Arguing good-naturedly over how to load the dishwasher.

All the little, domestic things that Buck had worried it might be too soon for that had turned out to be his favourite things about living with Tommy.

Well, almost his favourite; the extremely frequent sex was a tough one to beat in that department.

He'd thought that Tommy felt the same about him being here but his carefully blank expression suddenly has Buck a little worried.

"So uh, I guess I can be out of your hair tomorrow," Buck says, thoughts gently spiralling; of course Tommy didn't want him here. "Once I finish work I can-"

"Or," Tommy interrupts, frowning as he turns around with a pair of socks in one hand and underwear in the other, "you could not."

It's Buck's turn to frown then.

"Not what, go to work?"

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches as if he's holding back a smile.

"Not get out of my hair."

Buck doesn't reply, too busy trying not to let himself get too excited.

"Maybe I don't want you out of my hair," Tommy continues, waving his socks around. "In fact, maybe I kinda like having you in my hair."

Buck's heart flips a somersault in his chest as Tommy steps closer.

"Maybe I'd really like it if you didn't go back to your apartment and moved in here instead. Permanently," he adds, as if to make sure there's no confusion.

He looks adorably nervous, as if Buck would ever say anything but yes to such a suggestion.

"Yes," Buck says, a wide grin splitting his face. "Absolutely yes, I'll move in with you."

[hyuny-bunny]

seasons // series

part vii

summary: Minho is determined to be the one to win your heart.

warnings: sweat (?), panic attack symptoms (hyperventilating)

part vi • masterlist

"Hey, look at me," Jisung says as he grabs your face. You were beginning to hyperventilate after seeing the look on Minho's face.

"Jisung I-"

"Stop, just breathe, okay, close your eyes," He held your face as you focused on every breath count.

Why did the idea of these two crossing paths make you so anxious and uncomfortable? Minho had been around your ex's before, even going as far as trying to befriend them for your sake. So, why was this any different? After your heart rate began to level, Jisung pulled you into a hug rubbing your back soothingly as he called someone. It was only a few moments after, you picked up you head to see the puppy faced boy who was the 2nd person closest to you.

Seungmin took the seat on your on the side of you before ruffling your hair.

"What's wrong?" He asked sympathetically. Even his voice was enough to ground you in something.

You gave him the run down of saturday morning's argument with Minho, then going out and meeting Hyunjin, going home with Hyunjin, to now sitting outside the dance studio where the two have crossed paths.

Seungmin doesn't shame you or even scold you but he does lightly bump his fist to your head making you let out a strained laugh.

"Why are you so worried about this? Is Hyunjin a bad guy?"

"No... he's actually a really sweet guy, even for an alpha.."

"Okay, and how is this situation any different then when you were dating someone else?"

You stop for a moment thinking with pursed lips.

"I guess it's... not? I just... you didn't see the look on Minho's face, he looked like I had just murdered his cat."

"That's a bit extreme," Seungmin says with a chuckle as he fixes a strand of hair from your face. "Either way, who you sleep with or don't sleep, whether he knows or doesn't, is your choice and only you for you to judge. If you say he's a good guy, then trust yourself."

He was right. Why should you be so afraid of what Minho thought? As much as you valued his opinion as a friend, it was just as much you're right to sleep with whoever and whenever as you were single, not tied down to anyone. You lay your head on Seungmins shoulder for a moment.

"I should've told you everything yesterday but I knew you were busy with-"

"I am never too busy for you, okay? Call, text, send Jisung to my door with a message from you- actually don't do that I don't want him at my place," Seungmin says as his face scrunches in disgust at Jisung who sits next to you about to protest.

The two banter back and forth for a moment making you laugh, feeling lighter about everything. They keep you company until the others emerge from their dance class.

-

Jeongin yapped Hyunjin's ear off in those 10 minutes they had for a break as Felix shielded his face in hands. He could feel Minhos eyes throwing daggers at Hyunjin's head.

Hyunjin had learned in those 10 minutes that Minho and you had been friends since childhood, with Minho having had a crush on you long before you presented as an omega and him as an alpha. He couldn't help but wonder why the two of you didn't ever get together. As far as he could tell, the two of you seemed a likely match. While he did know Minho well enough to pass judgement, it was clear the Alpha had an affinity for taking care of the people around him, even if it was as simple as helping someone get a dance move down correctly or making sure no one was too worn down.

Even the bite in the way he joked was so similar to you, it was playful and harmless but could be taken very different if aimed at the right person. There was no denying how good looking he was either. From his build and stature despite not being very tall, there was an energy about him that asserted that dominance intentional or not.

Hyunjin had decided it was best to not let Minho on any further information about the nature of your relationship. If Minho wanted to know anything then he would have to ask you.

The class continued on for another hour, if Minho went back to his cool and collect facade for the remainder of class. Felix watched every movement for Minho waiting for the moment he snapped but he never did. Once the class was over, students trickled out slowly until it was just Jeongin, Hyunjin, Minho and Felix.

As much as it hurt Minho to do this, he couldn't deny the talent that Hyunjin had. The two exchanged numbers so they could work on a possible separate choreography to film. Hyunjin kept his cool so long as Minho did. As the four of them began to make their way to the door, Minho's stomach turned at the idea of facing you.

When he saw you sitting on that bench beside Jisung and Seungmin, it seemed to all melt away. You held out an electrolyte bottle to Minho who gleefully took it. Hyunjin trotted behind him with a smile on his face.

"I'd hug you but I'm soaked in sweat," Hyunjin said as he stood in front of you.

"Oh it's fine don't worry about it! So, uh, I'm guessing I don't have to introduce you two to each other?" You ask looking between Minho and Hyunjin.

"We're pretty well acquainted now," Minho says a bit stiff but Hyunjin just laughs. You attempt to change the topic.

"How come you didn't tell me you were a dance major?" You asked nervously looking between Minho and him.

"You never asked," Hyunjin shrugs as he drinks his water, "I'm not a dance major though."

Minho, Felix and Jeongin cock their head in confusion. He laughs at their reactions before speaking again, "I'm an illustratrative art major, painting is more my forte but dancing is my outlet."

Felix chimes in, "Was that tattoo your design then?"

"What tattoo?" You ask confused but Hyunjin just lets out a soft laugh as he nods to answer Felix's question.

Hyunjin puts his bag down to peel his shirt up revealing the rose tattoo the starts between his shoulder blades and trails down further beneath the fabric in vines and thorns. Unconsciously you reach out to touch it which makes Hyunjin shiver and takes everything in Minho to not rip your hand away.

"I didn't see this before," You murmur in awe of the space it takes up on his back.

"Kinda hard to with when you were preoccupied with other things," Hyunjin says with a wolfish grin as he pulls his shirt back on as he watches the flush creep onto your cheeks and watching you awkwardly laugh.

Minho clears his throat grabbing your wrist abruptly, "We should get going, have somewhere to be in a few but we'll see you guys on wednesday."

"Minho, we don't have anything-"

"Yes, we do, remember." He says through clenched teeth before continuing to drag you away from the group.

"Still on for Friday?" Hyunjin's calls out as he watches the Alphas drag you away.

"Yes!" You shout from over your shoulder as Minho throws his arm around your shoulder to keep you from looking back.

Hyunjin watches feeling satisfied by successfully getting under Minho's skin. He bids his goodbye to the others but before he does Felix runs up to him asking to exchange numbers, you know, incase co-captain things come up. Hyunjin is more than happy to exchange numbers with the pretty blonde omega as he bids goodbye for the last time.

-

"This is the urgent business you were talking about?" You ask sarcastically as you sit in the quiet boba shop booth with Minho across from you.

It was your normal hangout spot but it was also ritual for the two of you to come here every 1st day back of the new semester. It was a cat themed boba shop and it was truthfully one of Minho's favorite places to be, especially with you.

"Yes, they close at 8pm, I didn't want us to miss our chance... how were your classes today?" He asks looking up at you attempting to change the topic from his insistent ways of getting you as far away from Hyunjin as possible.

"Good, my professors are pretty nice. I'm writing my first novel this semester too."

"Will you read it to me when you're ready?" He asks.

"Of course, who else will I read it to?" He internally responds with a scowl at the thoughts of you reading it to Hyunjin.

The two of sit in a comfortable silence listening to the sounds of the people chattering around you.

"What are you doing with Hyunjin on Friday?" Minho is the first to speak up. Likely plotting how to disrupt those plans.

"Not too sure yet... How did you like him?" diverting the question back to Minho.

"Seems nice." He says shortly, unable to meet your gaze. He wouldn't admit that despite his flirty advances towards you, he liked him enough to consider him someone worth getting to know. You hum in acknowledgment. "The lunch you made me was good, thank you."

"You're welcome, nothing compares to your cooking but I try," You say as you stretch up in your seat feeling the exhaustion of the day wearing on you. Minho takes the signal and grabs both your belongings ready to head out.

The warm feeling that spread through your chest as you can't help feeling thankful how easy Minho picks up on your body language, almost better than you can. The drive to your apartment is quiet as the two of you talk about the coming day of other classes tomorrow.

"Oh that reminds me, Saturday night, are you free?" You perk up in your seat.

"I should be, something you want to do?"

"I promised Seungmin that we'd go to his nerdy film marathon, please come with me?" You ask jutting out your bottom lip, while giving him your best puppy eyes.

"Mmmmm what's in it for me?" Minho would say yes regardless but he wanted to see what you would say.

"I'll make your favorite cookies but... i'll make them into little cats." You say with a straight face.

"Deal." He mimics your face until he sees that smile on your face making his heart do a flip.

"Perfect, I'll see you tomorrow," You say quickly climb out of his car before he got a chance to say anything else.

He watches as walk off into your building waving back at him, meeting Hyunjin was like setting a fire under him. He was more determined than ever to get you to see him as someone who could be there for, love you, to be your mate. He would stop at nothing now to be the one that puts that smile on your face.

[ilguna]

☼ safer with you pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick doesn't want you to join his alliance, forcing you to face the jungle alone, unaware of just how dangerous it can be. it doesn't help the careers are following you, and you can hear them.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, hallucinations, erm urine talk (you'll see what I mean), talk of killing, death mention (cannons)

wc; 4.8k

notes; so in part 1 i say that it's the second day of the games, but re-reading it, it made no sense so. i have decided that pt1 took place in day one of the arena and this fic will take place in day two because that makes the most sense lol. sorry for the inconsistencies.

part one

--

When you got reaped for the Quarter Quell about a week ago, you knew it would be hard coming back into the arena. You knew that memories you’ve spent years trying to drown would come flooding back, since there would be nothing to hold them at bay anymore. You knew you’d have to do things that would take forever to scrub from your consciousness again, if you even could this time. 

The only slightly comforting thought that came with it was the fact that you weren’t going to be alone. Not only would the victors around you be experiencing the same thing, but you would have at least one ally that you could count on to get you through the Games.

Well, it turns out that wasn’t the case at all.

You never thought you’d actually end up coming in alone, especially when it seemed like you had multiple possible alliances. The Careers wouldn’t have been so bad, if Brutus didn’t hate your guts so much. As soon as he got reaped, you had a feeling there would be an issue trying to ally yourself with them, which is why you made a couple low effort attempts to join them. 

Each time you were met with excuses on why they didn’t want you. First, it was because you were friends with Finnick. And when you told them that Finnick had barely talked to you the entire trip, it turned into the fact that you weren’t strong enough. After you scored a ten, you tried again and got met with the fact that they had already decided that they didn’t want any children with them.

Which was only frustrating because you’re not that much younger than Gloss and Cashmere, but you let it go for the sake of keeping the peace while you could. In the meantime, you kept trying to chip away at Finnick, hoping he’d eventually change his mind, too. 

He made it impossible, too. 

The only real conversation you had with him about an alliance was before the Tribute Parade, where you tried to suggest the two of you take over the arena, dominating it so you could make it home alive. He was extremely disinterested in that idea, flat out refusing to entertain it.

All bets were off after that. He wouldn’t talk to you about alliances. Every time you tried, he shut you down within the first couple of minutes, reminding you that his mind had been made up. If he wanted to be your ally, then he would’ve made a move already.

The final conversation you had about it was the night of the interviews. Right before you were going to be brought on stage, he pulled you aside to tell you that he was not going to back down from what he said. You were not invited into his alliance, and you never crossed their minds for a minute. You needed to let it go.

You hoped he was bluffing, which is why you spent so much time trying to find him in the arena yesterday, but he held his ground and made you leave.

You thought that at the very least, if you couldn’t have the Careers, or even Finnick, you’d be able to make friends out of the District Six morphlings, or Cecelia and Woof, or even Beetee and Wiress. But even they had their reasons why they couldn’t.

At every corner you turned, you were met with another wall closing in. No one wanted anything to do with you. Either because they couldn’t trust you due to your natural alliance to the Careers—a load of shit—or because they had their own thing going on that they couldn’t include you in because there were already too many people.

It’s left you on your own.

Which doesn’t bother you completely, you spent your last Games traveling the desert by yourself, searching for shelter that didn’t exist besides the Cornucopia. You know you can survive on your own, it’s the fact that you have to. That despite the many friendships you’ve tried to forge, not one of them wanted you. 

It’s a very lonely feeling that you have to battle alongside the paranoia. In all honesty, it made for a long and difficult night. Since there’s no one to watch over you, you couldn’t sleep because of the creeping feeling that someone could be nearby. And each time that feeling subsided, you were woken up by the arena in some way.

The lightning storm in the middle of the night was the first time you were jolted awake. You thought it wouldn’t last long, but when you realized that it wasn’t stopping, you were on edge. Not being able to hear the rustling of the jungle around you was off-putting. Anyone could sneak up on you if they wanted to.

You thought you were in the clear when the lightning finally stopped. The drowsiness began to win over, and then there was a cannon. And there would continue to be a cannon about every hour, every time you were about to sleep. After the third one, you gave up trying.

You’ve been up for a few hours now, sitting in the jungle, watching the moon sink into the trees on one side, while the sun rises on the other. It’s pretty early in the day, you’d say it can’t be any later than nine, judging by where the sun is. 

It’s slowly starting to get warmer in the arena as the morning goes on. It didn’t feel like the heat let off any last night, but it must’ve. If it’s going to be as hot as it was yesterday, you should probably get a move on. If you’re not dehydrated already, you will be by noon.

You’ve been sweating buckets, skin sticking to skin because of the humidity.

If it weren’t for the noises in the trees, you would’ve been traveling through the jungle an hour ago. You can barely hear it now, but before it was a low growling sound, as if there was an animal protecting its kill from another predator. 

For a while, you were afraid that you were the one being warned to back off, but every time you went to take a look around, you couldn’t find anything camouflaged in the greenery. Whatever it is, you figure it’s gone away now, to a safer place to eat what it’s caught.

A quiet sigh leaves you, you really don’t want to leave the shade, but you don’t have much of a choice. You pick your sword out of the grass and prop it up against the tree you were trying to sleep behind, before pulling yourself to your feet. 

You grab your sword, and then begin to wander down through the jungle toward the beach. Yesterday, when you were in the Cornucopia for the bloodbath, you weren’t able to grab anything besides a sword. You were hoping you’d be able to dig around in the boxes for a minute, but more districts know how to swim than you originally thought. 

No one’s going to be there now, since the center island is on display for everyone to see. The Careers usually like to use it as their homebase, but with twelve different ways to get in and out, it’d be too difficult to defend. All it would take is a decently-sized alliance to rush in from separate spokes, and the Careers would be gone in the blink of an eye.

So, they’ve got to be in the jungle somewhere, hunting down tributes. You’ll even bet that’s what they were doing last night, stumbling across sleepy victors and eliminating them without an ounce of hesitation. Three of your own, gone in the span of a few hours. You wonder if they even feel guilt. 

You don’t think you’ll actually be able to bring yourself to kill anyone in here, not even if they were threatening your life. All you’d be able to think about is the amount of memories you’ve made with the people in here, good or bad. Regardless if they’ve treated you terribly in recent years, or given you the best times of your life.

If any of them—Cashmere, Gloss or Brutus—end up winning, you don’t know how they’ll be able to live with themselves. Yes, they could come out with more fame and fortune than they’d ever need, but they’d never be able to escape the haunting feeling that they made a mistake killing all those people they once knew. 

And you know that you were thinking about dominating the arena with Finnick literally less than a week ago, but killing those around you never crossed your mind. You were more interested in the idea of resource guarding, especially the water source that the Gamemakers were going to provide.

Although, since traversing through the jungle, you’ve come to the conclusion that there is no main water source here. Well, besides the center lake, which doesn’t really count because it’s saltwater. And turning saltwater into drinking water is a long and tiring process that you have very little experience doing. 

That’s why you’re going to the Cornucopia. They have to have a sealed bottle of water or some sort of agent for making water drinkable hidden in one of those boxes. If you do find something like iodine, then it means there’s a pond or stream you just have to find. If not, then the Gamemakers have made the same grave mistake they made the last time you were in the arena.

You were in a desert, loose orange sand swirling the air occasionally due to a weak breeze. A blazing white sun beating down on you, no shade available as far as the eye could see. Besides the Cornucopia, of course, which had been taken over by the Careers, and they were refusing to step out of it.

You wandered for two and a half days through the sand, around the prickly cacti with the pretty pink flowers in bloom. You went as far as your legs could carry you, sweat soaking your shirt, your scalp wet to the touch. Your lips were dry and cracked, coated in tiny sand particles. 

You were delirious, dizzy, walking yourself in circles, mumbling nonsense. You eventually stopped to pee behind a cactus, not worried about decency because you knew the Capitol would cut away to give you some privacy, when you remembered what you were told by the experts in the Training Center.

In a lesson on purifying water and what to do if you couldn’t find any, it was strongly advised for you to avoid drinking your own urine in a desperate situation. Something about salt and how it could make the situation worse, but you really couldn’t wait any longer. You needed something to drink to wet your mouth and to get the tough feeling out of your throat.

As soon as that yellow bottle touched your lips, you were met with your first ever sponsor gift. Which was, of course, a giant jug of clean water. It was cold, condensation had begun to run down the side of the plastic as soon as it touched the ground. You knew you had to make it last, but you couldn’t help the first few gulps.

The main thing you’re grateful for is the fact that you never actually had to drink your own urine. The Gamemakers had come to their senses just in time to save you from doing that on live television. Either way, don’t be fooled, it’s not something you’re proud of almost doing.

It wasn’t until later, during your final interview in the Capitol with Caesar Flickerman, were you told that the original plan for the desert was to withhold water. It was an experiment to see how the tributes would react when they found out and how long it would take them to die. 

When the Gamemakers saw you on that screen, about to drink liquid that came out of your body, they cracked. They couldn’t let the Capitol citizens see it happen because it was too gross for them. Not the fact that it was inhumane and it shouldn’t have been the plan in the first place.

The only real good thing that came out of that whole situation was the fact that the Gamemakers made sure a water source was in every arena moving forward. The distance to travel to it didn’t really matter to them, as long as the tributes would have someplace to fill up their canteens, or whatever.

This is why you’re hopeful they have a stream of water somewhere, and it isn’t just the center lake.

Fortunately, it’s relatively easy to travel back down the slope of the jungle, then it is to hike it up. All you have to do is keep an eye on the ground and watch for any deceiving roots that appear like they’re not sticking out. Which is far and few between.

You like that it’s fairly quiet out here, it’s usually hard to find any sort of peace when you’re in an arena. The chirping of the birds and insects are so familiar and calming, that it would be impossible to miss the sound of the branch that just snapped behind you.

You hesitate on your next step, torn between coming to a complete stop to peer over your shoulder or running for your life. It could just be an animal in the jungle, so running would be a gross overreaction. On the same hand, it could be someone, anyone.

You raise your sword in front of you, tilting it to the side to use the reflection to see what it is that made the noise. This is a move you learned recently from a tribute who comes from one of the outskirt districts. You believe it was a boy from Nine, and instead of a sword, he had a scythe, or something along those lines. All you know is that it had a bigger blade.

Your heart leaps in your chest at the sight of Gloss attempting to creep up on you, entirely way too close for comfort. In a moment of fight or flight, your instincts choose the former, swinging the sword with a wide arc, gaining momentum to hit Gloss hard. He catches your weapon with his own, the sound of metal on metal clanging together fills the air.

That’s all it takes for the birds and insects in the trees to go silent.

You flip your blade flat against his, allowing you to place your free hand on your sword so you can shove him back to get him off of you. You try to be quick, slicing downward at his shins, but he’s prepared for this, blocking you.

If Gloss is going to predict every move you make, then you’re going to be in trouble trying to fight him off. Especially since you’ve never had the opportunity to watch him fight someone else without being interrupted. In the Training Center, he’d get sidetracked by Cashmere, or you’d get pulled away by one of the many training experts to polish off your experience.

It would be wiser to run than to engage in a fight. The problem that comes with this is he’s going to follow you, there’s no question about it. You could try to lose him in the jungle and escape to the beach, but he’ll find your tracks eventually. And this doesn’t even take Cashmere and Brutus into consideration. 

“What’s wrong?” Gloss asks, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips. “Haven’t had to fight anyone just yet?”

“Nope.” You tell him, slowly backing away, being careful as to where you place your foot. “I’m sure you have, though.” 

He makes a face, tilting his head while shrugging his shoulders. As if that’s a given and didn’t need to be spoken aloud. “You know how it is.”

You shake your head at him, lips pursed. “I don’t. I don’t feel the need to seek out friends and kill them.”

“What about if they come at you with a weapon?” Gloss asks. “It’s self defense.”

“You’re the one following me.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Only recently. We saw you coming down the hill and thought you might be able to lead us to Katniss.” 

“You’re shit out of luck. I’m not in an alliance with them.”

Gloss gives you a tight lipped smile. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth.” You take another step back.

Gloss raises his sword, you make a stab at him, forcing him to jerk back. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Cashmere’s platinum blonde hair in the sun. She’s coming out from behind a tree, moving to join Gloss.

Where’s Brutus?

A creeping feeling spreads through your body. You spin around, paranoid he’s behind you, and find that your intuition is right. He’s less than five feet away, another minute and you’d be dead.

You can’t fight all three of them.

You don’t bother turning around to give a final jab to Gloss. Instead, you start running toward Brutus, sword raised in the air to bring down at him. He’s forced to decide whether or not he can take the hit, and just before you swing, he jerks out of the way.

The sword lowers to your side as you barrel down the jungle slope, heading for the beach. If you’re going to fight them, it’s going to be on a level playing field where the sand slows all four of you down. Otherwise, you might as well just lay down and let them kill you. 

The jungle seems to change as you go. It’s not really noticeable at first, since the trees and ferns turn into a blurry mess of brown and green. But then there’s mixes of dark grey and white that make your pace slow.

You turn to look over your shoulder, finding your Career friends are still coming your way, carelessly trampling through the spongy dirt. You watch as Gloss’s foot gets caught in a root, and in return, a flurry of arrows come raining down on them.

You watch as they duck in different directions, getting stuck with several arrows in their arms, legs and backs. As they take a moment to pull them out of their bodies, you eye the trees above, curious on where they had come from. They’re going to think it was Katniss, but there’s no way she can shoot twenty arrows at the same time.

You turn around, going back to running, trying to lose them while you can. You keep a careful eye on the ground, afraid of what other possibilities the jungle holds. All he did was trip over a root from one of the many trees, could it really have triggered an attack like that?

You don’t want to find out. 

It seems like Gloss, Cashmere and Brutus don’t want to either. They’re much more cautious now, but they’re still moving quicker than you are. Your efforts pay off, though, because you spot several areas of the ground where it’s too flat and looks a little too jungle-y. 

Which sounds insane in your head, but when you stab at the area as you pass, the ground falls in to reveal pointed wood spikes at the bottom of a ten foot hole. You can feel your stomach drop, feet slowing even more. 

You don’t remember all of this last night. It was a regular jungle when you were heading to the top. You tripped over several roots last night and never received a reaction like Gloss did. And there was nothing wrong with the ground, either.

The beach can’t be that much further, all you have to do is make it to the sand and then everything will be fine again. Well, that is until you get attacked by the Careers, but you can’t afford to worry about them until then. You need to keep heading forward.

As you continue, you try to take light steps, tiptoeing around the roots, stabbing at the ground, keeping an eye on the trees. It helps that they trigger several of the traps behind you, slowing them down, giving you more time to plan out your steps.

But all it takes is one misstep on your part for you to fall victim to the hidden terrors of this part of the jungle. You stomp on a rock, thinking nothing of it, until you feel a sharp pain on the back of your left arm. You stumble a step or two, instantly feeling lightheaded.

You reach over, hand securing around the foreign object, pulling it out of your body. You hold it in front of you, staring down at your hand that seems to elongate and shrink, making it hard for you to see what it is that punctured you. You squint, rolling it over in your hand, watching it multiply.

Something is wrong here.

You bring it closer to your face, accidentally bumping it into your nose. Reality seems to straighten after that, allowing you enough time to see that it’s a dart, and the needle is coated in a dark purple substance. You wipe it with your finger, raising it to your nose to smell.

It hits your nose with a sting, your face puckers as you jerk your head back. You know that smell. It’s tracker jacker venom. It’s so potent and sour. It’s one of those smells you can’t forget about, like the smell of a rotting body.

You look up, the jungle’s color has become more vibrant—alive. You shoot a look over your shoulder to find that Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus are still running at you, their bodies changing shapes, the ground moving as if there’s water beneath. The sight makes you nauseous, you swallow back the vomit and throw the dart in their direction.

When you go back to running for your life, it’s near impossible to keep alert. Either you watch the ground and avoid the traps, or you observe the jungle and find animals peeking out behind trees, snarling at you. 

You’re not sure how long this goes on for, where you trigger traps and narrowly avoid the consequence or end up getting stabbed by an arrow. All you know is that at some point, Cashmere gets caught in a net and she gets strung up in the air. It forces Gloss and Brutus to quit chasing after you to help her down.

You go as far as your legs will carry you, before the venom in your system becomes too much to bear. You lay down in a small patch of dirt that you come across, perfect hidden behind a tree and covered by long fern leaves. You tuck your sword beneath the plants, but keep it in arms reach in case you need to use it.

The word has begun to spin, the scenery around you changing into one more familiar, like the desert you escaped a couple years ago. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut, hoping that the venom will exit your system quickly.

When you wake, the jungle looks just the same as it did before you slipped into the hallucinations. The skin on your cheeks feel sensitive and raw, and your mouth is drier than it had been this morning. You sit up, taking a moment to gather yourself before you get to your feet.

Your legs feel like jelly, you use a tree to hold yourself upright. When they feel more solidified, you shuffle your way out from behind the tree, and find yourself just a couple of steps away from the beach.

You let out a sigh of relief, more than ready to leave the jungle for the time being, even if that means you’ll be put out in the open. You stop in the sand, squinting through the brightness of the sun to see where you are and figure out what time it is.

It looks like you’re on the left side of the Cornucopia, somewhat behind it. You can’t see the mouth from where you are, so if you still want to go there, you’d need to travel through the treeline of the jungle to get there. Or you could take the gamble and wander up. 

At this point, you don’t really care if anyone’s there. 

It’s late afternoon, you can tell by the sun in the sky. If you’re taking bets, you’d say that no one would be stupid enough to be at the Cornucopia right now. Maybe at night, but not in broad daylight, unless there’s a group there.

Which should leave you worried about the Careers, but it’s been hours since you saw them in the jungle. You’re not sure if they made it out alive, and you honestly don’t really care, either. You do know that they were injured because of the traps, so you’d say they won’t make another big move for a while unless it’s urgent.

You step out of the jungle fully, heading for the nearest spoke that’ll lead straight to the center island where the Cornucopia is. You’ll take your chances, just this once. You need water, and if you’re not going to get sponsored, then you need to find it yourself.

You’re not even halfway there when a face appears around the side of the Cornucopia, just briefly surveying the area. You come to a stop where you are on the rock, watching as the person decides to come out to see who you are. 

You can tell who it is almost immediately. How could you miss him? His sun kissed skin, the bronze hair, the silver trident in his hand. It’s Finnick, of course. And because of the conversation you had yesterday, you already know that he’s going to turn you away.

“I need water.” You tell him, not waiting for him to speak first. “If you have a problem with that, then you can leave.”

“There’s no water here.” He tells you, shaking his head. “We’ve been through the boxes.”

“I would like to look for myself.” You continue forward.

“You can’t come over here, (Y/n).”

“I can. If that makes you and your allies uncomfortable, then there’s eleven different directions for you all to go.” Your eyes are locked with his. “I need supplies. You’ve had your time here, now it’s my turn.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care to find out anymore.” You stop in front of him. “You can’t turn me away, I won’t let it happen. So, you need to figure your shit out quickly.”

Finnick has his lips pressed together, looking over your face. “What happened to you?”

“Exactly what I told you, yesterday.” You say slowly. “They found me, Finnick. And if it weren’t for a net in the jungle, I’d be dead.”

“Who found you?”

“Who do you think?” You snap. 

The two of you stand in a tense silence for a minute, thinking about the different ways you can handle this. Finnick must not think you’re worth the fight, though, because he backs away.

“Just keep quiet and follow my lead.” Finnick looks at the Cornucopia. “Like I said, the alliance is—”

“I don’t want to be part of your playdate.” You cut him off. “I’m over it. I’ll take care of myself.”

He doesn’t like that response, you can tell by the way he sighs. “You’re going to change your mind when you get around the corner.”

“We’ll see.” You wave him off.

Finnick leads the way, “No need to panic, it’s just (Y/n).” He warns.

You step around the Cornucopia, eyes searching the group that he’s managed to gather. Your face twists at the sight of the odd combination of Katniss, Peeta, Beetee and Johanna.

Johanna makes a retching sound, “What is she doing here?”

“Water.” You tell her plainly.

“Well, you’re not going to find any.” She says, head bobbing.

“We’ll see.”

There’s a moment of silence as you walk into the Cornucopia, flipping lids open, digging through boxes. You find one protein bar at the bottom of a box, and rip the wrapper open with your teeth, eating it as you continue.

“What’s that welt on the back of your arm?” Finnick asks.

“Dart.” You murmur. “Tracker jacker venom.”

A couple more minutes pass before someone clears their throat. “I can get you water.” You turn to see who it is, and it’s Katniss. She holds up a metal object that’s tied to her belt with a vine. “It’s a spile.”

You stand up. “How?”

“The trees. We just have to find a good one that’ll give us a steady stream.”

You look over at Finnick, he’s nodding his head.

“What do you want in return?” You ask.

Katniss lets the spile fall. “Nothing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

[angelsdean]

Mary is 28. The year is 2016. Her whole life has been stolen from her. Some cosmic being plucked her from Heaven, took her away from her home, her husband, her babies, and placed her in this strange new world.

Her babies are gone, replaced with strangers a foot taller than her and nearly a decade older. They call her mom in gruff voices. They are hunters, something she never wanted for them. She has to hold back tears just looking at them. She sees glimmers of herself in Dean. His hair has darkened since he was a little boy, but she sees herself in other parts. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, his smile. She sees herself in Sam too, though he feels stranger. She can't quite match her pudgy little baby to this man.

At night, she moves through the bunker like a ghost. Nothing feels quite real. She takes scissors to her hair, thinks a drastic change will make this all feel more real. Throws herself into hunting. The adrenaline helps. Her racing heart reminding her she's alive, alive, alive. This isn't a dream.

This isn't a dream.

She sobs into her pillow, as the reality of it hits once more. She will never see her babies again.

These strange men look at her like she's a wonder. She understands what they lost. Understands they never had a mother. She imagines she'd look at her babies the same way, if she could see them again.

But she doesn't know how interact with this Sam and this Dean. All she knows is rocking babies to sleep to the tune of "Hey, Jude" and cutting the crusts off PB&J's and warming up store-bought pies for her sweet little toddler. She feels like she's failing at something she never really felt she succeeded at in the first place. So she focuses on the one thing she was ever good at: hunting.

When the British Men of Letters approach her, she goes in with good intentions. She's doing this for her boys. It's the one thing she can do right, she thinks.

Except things go wrong. They always go wrong.

"Cas almost died," Dean says, a hard edge to his voice and his eyes swimming with emotion.

She feels terrible, tries to explain. "I'm doing this for you. I'm playing three decades of catch up here." She wants to say, I'm trying to fix things. If I can rid the world of monsters, if I can make it safe then you won't have to fight anymore. You can have normal lives. You can be free. But she doesn't know how to talk to them.

Mary watches Dean's expression cloud with his own grief. "And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? We're your sons, and you've been gone. Our whole lives, you've been gone," he says. And she understands. She's been gone. And her babies are gone. And it's all so unfair.

"You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space," Dean continues, and she can feel herself losing him. Them. Sam won't even look at her. "So we gave you your space. But you didn't need just space. No, you needed space from us."

He's not wrong. She told them when she left, how hard it was to be around them.

"That's not true," she lies. "Dean, I'm trying –"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" Dean cuts in, hurt, angry.

And it hits her harder than she expected. Because she wishes, wishes she could be a mom again. To her babies. But that's never going to happen. And if she's stuck here, then she needs to figure out some other way to be.

"I am your mother," she says, sternly, "but I am not 'just a mom.' And you are not a child." It's not fair. Part of her knows that's not what Dean was asking. Not how he meant it. She's the one wishing he were a child. Wishing she could be "just" a mom. But she can't be a mother to them. Not this Dean. Not this Sam.

Dean looks her in the eyes, his expression vacant, haunted, and says, "I never was." His lip trembles for just a moment before he regains his composure.

She was a hunter's kid once. She knows what it's like. There's little room for childhood innocence. But she also doesn't know. She had a stable home. She had two parents. She had no siblings to look after.

"So between us and them –" Dean continues, the question hanging in the chasm that has opened up between them.

"It's not like that." Can't you see I'm choosing you. This is the only way I know how to keep you safe.

"Yeah, Mary, it is." She hates how it doesn't exactly break her heart, hearing her name come from his mouth instead of "mom." It feels more normal. Because these are not her children. "You made your choice. So there's the door."

Dean walks out of the room without a second look. Sam rises from the table, averting his eyes. She understands this too. Struggling to look. To see.

But this isn't how she wanted things to go. She didn't mean to upset them. And she doesn't want to lose them completely. She just--needs more time. "Sam," she tries. Maybe it would be easier to get through to him. He never really knew her, has no memories of her.

But he tells her to go too.

And maybe part of her is glad for the easy out. This will give her more time. She just needs to focus on hunting. Save the world. Put her babies to rest. Then she can come back and they can...be a family. However that might look for them.