#then maybe MAYBE I’ll do the boys. maybe

[seumyo]

thinking about the aftermath of the final war with bakugou.

It’s more often that you and Bakugou are the only ones left in the dorms after the war. The others chose to go back to their homes when the school’s implementation of mandatory dorm living lifted, and some decided to stay a little longer.

“Taste this.”

Bakugou raised a brow but didn’t protest as you walked over, spooning some curry towards his mouth. With a slight huff, he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to take the spoon. The moment it hit his tongue, his nose scrunched slightly.

“Careful, it’s still a bit hot.”

“Mild,” he muttered after swallowing. “You could barely even taste the richness of the sauce, too.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, frowning. “Are you serious? I followed your recipe.”

“Still mild; you brought shame to my recipe.”

You gave him an unimpressed look before turning back on the pot. “Wow, then maybe you should’ve been the one cooking here. I’m gonna check what went wrong.”

“I would if I could, dipshit.”

“Just get over here and check, too.”

“Nuh-uh. You said you’d cook tonight.”

“And you’re the one who keeps on complaining that I didn’t do your recipe justice!”

“That’s a fact.”

“Starve.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he went back to his writing practice, but there was something in his expression—something almost amused.

-

Bakugou sat by his study desk, his left hand gripping a pen tightly as he tried to force his stubborn fingers into writing something readable. His handwriting had always been sharp and textbook-pristine penmanship that you could mistake it for being printed, but now, with his right hand still recovering, it looked… awful.

You sat a good distance next to him, watching with an unreadable expression.

“Oi,” Bakugou grunted, not looking up. “The hell are you staring at?”

“Your letters look like a baby bird scratched them out,” you said bluntly, not even bothering to hold back on your words.

He clicked his tongue. “Like I don’t already know that.”

You reached over, grabbing his notebook before he could protest, flipping back to his first attempts from a few weeks ago. The letters were uneven, practically illegible. Then you held it up next to his latest attempt.

“See? You’re getting better.” You turned the notebook toward him. “You can actually read this one.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached for the notebook, but you yanked it away at the last second, grinning.

“You don’t get this back until you admit I’m a good teacher.”

Bakugou glared at you, debating whether this was worth a fight. Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the chair.

“Fine. You’re not the worst teacher.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“Me? Never. That’s more of a you thing and not a me thing.”

“Like hell it’s only me.”

You laughed. “Let’s try numbers this time; I even bought a tracing book.”

“That shit’s for kids,” he scoffed.

“It says three and up,” you argued. “You’re three and up, are you not? And—who knows? Maybe after this you’ll be ambidextrous.”

“Shut up.”

-

“Run.”

That was the only warning before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and bolted.

The sound of rapid footsteps and excited squeals filled the hall behind you. A group of first-year girls was hot on your trail, giddy with the thrill of chasing UA’s most popular second-year student.

“Why the hell do they keep following me?!” Bakugou barked as you rounded a corner, his grip still firm on your wrist.

“Because you’re literally their idol,” you said between breaths, peeking to see as the girls went the opposite direction. “They see you as some kind of bad boy heartthrob ever since the Sports Festival. It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute—it’s annoying!”

You found an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Both of you stood there, panting. Outside, the sounds of giggling and footsteps faded down the hall, the first-years continuing their search elsewhere.

You let out a breath and leaned against a desk. “Could be worse. They could be chasing you with cameras like the paparazzi did.”

Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Don’t even joke about that.”

You nudged his shoulder, smiling. “You didn’t have to drag me with you, y’know? Or is this an excuse to be alone in a room with me?”

He glared at you, opening his mouth to argue—but then he caught the teasing glint in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fucking idiot. You’d get trampled over by that mob.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll tell Iida to see if he can scout the area to make sure no one’s going to jump at us when we leave.”

You laughed, and despite himself, Bakugou didn’t find it all that annoying. He actually found it... familiar and worth something he can’t put into words.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[a-very-humanyes]

oh boy, I’m doing this with all of my ocs and it’ll take a long time.

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

So that is Juice’s side. I don’t have voice claims for any one else yet. 2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

Falkor is best friends with Tasuma and Galasi. Kora Falls is best Friends with Poi Son Karp. Sukaro and Masksisi are friends. Symon Waati is best friends with Frank and Lin.

3) What song describes your OC?

Juice: November by Sparkbird

Kora Falls: Crazy = Genius by Panic! At The Disco

Falkor: Passing Through (Can’t The Future Just Wait) by Kaden McKay

Falcon: Run Rabbit Run by The Hoosiers

Tha Cat: Puppet Boy by DEVO

Joli: Mayday! by Sparkbird

Saya: Butcher Vanity by Vane Lily

Mago: Arms Tonite by Mother Mother

Kanu: Verbatim by Mother Mother

Amari Falls: Deceptacon by Le Tigre

Symon Waati: We’ll Meet Again by Vera Lynn

Greg: sans. by Toby Fox

Reg: Death By Glamour by Toby Fox

Meg: Shop by Toby Fox

Galasi: Lobby Music Glory Addition by Kahoot

Tasuma: Simmer Down (3&4) by Del Chupenebray

February: Goofy Goober Rock by SpongeBob SquarePants

Yeelen: Lovefool by The Cardigans

Simon: Weird Science by Oingo Boingo

Lucy Lapis: Stronger Then You by Steven Universe

Poi Son Karp: Creep by Radiohead (but the Book of Life Version)

Rodrick: Action Movie Hero Boy by Lemon Demon

Randy: Brutus bathe Buttress

Oliver: Nowhere To Run by Stegosaurus Rex

Antonio: DEBT COLLECTOR by Jhariah

Frank: Mama Mia by Austin Weber

Lin: Am I Dreaming by Metro Boomin (from Spiderverse)

Keg: …well better then the alternative by Will Wood

Raisin: People Eater by Sodikken

Jam: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance (emo)

Syurp: Take A Slice by Glass Animals

Icecream: Ms Jackson by Outkast

Vine: Grandpa’s Theme by Concerned Ape (stardew)

Grape: Dance Of The Moonlight Jellies by Concerned Ape (stardew)

Wine: Hotel California 2013 remaster by Eagles

Catgoo: The Roost by Masters Of Sound (acnl)

Manthan: Pier’s Battle Theme by Pokémon

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

Saya and Yeelen: I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend by Hot Freaks

Joli and Mago: I Love You So by the Walters

Kanu and Masksisi: Nasty Dog by Sir Mix-a-lot

Keg and Raisin: Bust Your Kneecaps by Pomplamoose

Syurp and Icecream: Bang Bang by K’NAAN

Simon and Oliver: Your Stupid Face by Kaden MacKay (this is not a canon ship of my ocs)

Manthan and Piers (Piers from Pokémon): Isn’t It Love

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

Manthan and Piers. Then Juice and {spoiler}

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

Falcon is a hunter in their fantasy setting, so they’d be a butcher nowadays.

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

…the music spent so long. Bleh

Juice: royal Gardener

Kora: Jester

February: Healer

Oliver: Hunter

Simon: Alchemist?

Symon: chef

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

Kora: war crimes

Juice: whatever she do

I’m not doing them all for this.

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

they all do pretty well. Except for Kora and Juice. Kora does the bare minimum to stay alive and even then she drinks battery acid by accident concerningly often. Then Juice is too clumsy to care.

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

terrible they all have trauma. Except for February and maybe Symon (I’ll get to Symon soon she won’t see what’s coming)

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

Falkor and Tha Cat : my Minecraft Skin

Kora: Falkor if she was a lab experiment and insane

Falcon: if Falkor was a member in the Life Series / a royal guard

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

Juice interacts with other people’s ocs.

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

Kora killed Oliver’s younger sister, Simon tortured and created Kora. So Oliver has a one sided rivalry with Kora. While Kora has a one sided rivalry with Simon.

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

Oliver, Kora, and Simon in a room together no one leaves alive. Then Juice and Marnie.

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

they all die young

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

Poi and Juice don’t have the best relationship with their parents. The rest are normal, Kora doesn’t have parents tho

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

Kora tries, Juice also tries. Juice does better tho

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

ugh… all of them have pronouns.

all the ocs with he/him pronouns are: Yeelen, Joli, Oliver, Simon, Greg, Reg, Syurp, IceCream, Vine, Rodrick, Randy, Antonio, Amari.

All the ocs with he/them pronouns: Kanu, Poi Son Karp, Frank.

all the ocs with she/her pronouns: February, Kora Falls, Falkor, Falcon, Tasuma, Tha Cat, Lucy Lapis, Galasi, Jam, Juice

all ocs with she/them pronouns: Meg, Mago, Sukaro

all ocs with any pronouns: Saya, Symon.

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

I don’t know. Yeelen and Saya are gay.

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

teeth or gun

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

Kora and Oliver: Choke by I DONT KNOW HOW THEY FOUND ME

Kora and Simon: The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid

Juice and Marnie: Tired of Waiting by Ulle Kamelle

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

Kora is a fight. Juice is a flight until she needs to fight. Juice and Symon are the only lovers instead of fighters.

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

no

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

Symon can play the saxophone because I find it funny

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

Juice

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

Juice and her envy of snapdragons.

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

The falkor’s are all lizards. Juice is a feral orange cat. Symon is a sweet black house cat. Joli is a bee

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

idk what this means

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

purple for Juice. Brown and Green for Falkors.

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

Yippee new friends!

im so tired i got a bit lazy.

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

[xanneeeyyyy]

"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?!"

Hey everyone! This is my first story here—hope you enjoy it! And sorry for any grammatical errors 🙏🏻 Just drop in the comments if y’all want a part 2! 💟

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ .⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Wherein Katsuki Bakugou has a girlfriend who was hopelessly terrible with directions.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ .⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

It was supposed to be a simple errand.

"Y/N," Aizawa-sensei had said after class, rubbing his temples, looking like he was already done with life. "Can you run to the store near the dorms and pick up some snacks for Eri? She ran out."

I straightened up and beamed. "Of course, Sensei! Anything for Eri!"

"It’s a five-minute walk. Be back quick."

I nodded enthusiastically. "No worries! I’ll be back before you know it!"

Famous last words.

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9:30 PM – Heights Alliance Common Room

Katsuki Bakugou was pissed. And when he was pissed, everyone felt it. His left leg bounced restlessly as he sat on the couch, gripping his phone so tight that it was a miracle it hadn’t exploded yet.

No texts. No calls. Nothing.

It was past curfew and his girlfriend was missing, and nobody had seen her all evening.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Someone tell me where the hell Y/N is. NOW." The entire common room froze. Kirishima, who had been casually scrolling on his phone, slowly looked up. "Uh… She’s not in her room?"Bakugou’s eye twitched. "OF COURSE SHE’S NOT IN HER ROOM! I CHECKED!"

"Maybe she's in the library?" Momo suggested.

"I checked!"

"Training grounds?"

"I CHECKED!"

Midoriya furrowed his brows. "She’s not answering her phone?"

"DO YOU THINK I WOULDN’T HAVE CALLED HER ALREADY, DUMBASS?!"

The whole room went silent.

And that’s when everyone started to realize—Y/N had been gone for a long time.

Todoroki blinked. "…When did you last see her?"

Iida frowned. "She left after class, I believe."

Kaminari sat up straight. "Wait, after class? That was at 4:30 PM!"

Collective horror filled the room.

"SHE’S BEEN GONE FOR FIVE HOURS?!" Kaminari screamed.

Mina shot up from the couch. "OH MY GOD, SHE'S DEAD!"

Kirishima gasped. "SHE GOT KIDNAPPED!"

"Or lost," Todoroki muttered, sipping his tea.

Bakugou’s vein popped. "OF COURSE, SHE GOT LOST! SHE’S A DAMN DIRECTIONLESS IDIOT!"

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Just then— A knock on the door. Everyone whipped their heads around. Aizawa-sensei stood there, looking slightly more awake than usual. And then he said the one thing that shattered the entire dorm.

"Where’s Y/N?"

Silence. Pure, deafening silence.

And then—

"YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE SHE IS EITHER?!"

The class erupted into chaos.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHERE IS SHE?!" Uraraka screeched.

"SHOULDN’T YOU KNOW?!" Kirishima yelled.

"SHE’S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY!" Iida pointed dramatically.

Momo clutched her chest. "Sensei, please don’t tell us you were the last person to see her—"

Aizawa blinked. "I just asked her to grab some snacks for Eri after class." Everyone stopped.

Kirishima stared. "…After class?"

Aizawa nodded. "Yeah. That was at 4:30 PM."

BOOM.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!?” Bakugou exploded. Literally. His hands sparked, and his entire body radiated fury.

Aizawa sighed, completely unfazed by his student’s nuclear-level outburst. "Why are you all yelling?"

"BECAUSE YOU SENT HER OUT FIVE HOURS AGO, AND SHE HASN’T COME BACK!" Aizawa… blinked. Then, very slowly, he checked the time.

9:30 PM.

"…Oh."

OH?!

"Sensei!" Uraraka cried. "You sent her out alone?!"

"SHE GETS LOST IN THE DORMS!" Kaminari shrieked.

"She once tried to go to the training room and ended up in the boys’ bathroom," Sero added.

"One time, I found her outside the dorms when she was just trying to find the laundry room," Momo said gravely.

Todoroki sipped his tea. "She might’ve accidentally boarded a train."

Silence.

"SHE WOULDN’T—" Bakugou stopped.

He thought about it.

…She totally would.

His face darkened.

"THAT’S IT. I’M GOING TO FIND HER."

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Meanwhile…

I was very, very lost.

What was supposed to be a five-minute errand turned into five hours of wandering. I had taken a shortcut.

I should not have taken a shortcut.

Somehow, I had ended up in an entirely different neighborhood.

I checked my phone. 3% battery.

"…Oops."

I clutched the snack bag tightly. "Well, at least I got the snacks!"

That was not the priority.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

10:00 PM – Heights Alliance

Bakugou stormed back into the dorms, looking furious and exhausted.

"NO LUCK?!" Kirishima asked.

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I FOUND HER, SHITTY HAIR?!" Bakugou roared. "I CHECKED EVERYWHERE!"

"We need to call the police," Iida declared.

"Or put up missing person posters," Kaminari added.

Todoroki sipped his tea. "Have we considered checking the store?"

Everyone stopped.

Bakugou froze.

And then—

The front door opened.

I stepped inside, smiling like nothing was wrong.

"Oh! Hey, guys!" I beamed, holding up the bag. "I got the snacks Aizawa sensei!"

Silence.

Then—

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

I blinked. "Uh… funny story—"

Before I could finish, I was tackled by Mina, Uraraka, and Momo.

"WE THOUGHT YOU DIED!"

"You were gone for six hours!"

Bakugou stomped over. His hands trembled. His jaw was clenched. His red eyes were burning.

"YOU," he growled. "YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

I gulped. "I… got lost?"

"NO. REALLY?"

"…Really."

His hands balled into fists. And then— He pulled me into a crushing hug.

I froze.

The entire class froze. "…Holy crap," Kaminari whispered.

"Did Bakugou just… hug someone?" Bakugou quickly shoved me away, face red as hell. "DON’T FUCKING SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN!"

I laughed nervously. "Sorry?" Aizawa sighed. "Never again." He turned to me, eyes serious. "You are never running errands alone again." The class nodded aggressively. Bakugou crossed his arms. "Damn right, she’s not." I smirked. "So… I’m getting a personal escort now?" Bakugou’s face turned redder.

"SHUT UP YOU DUMBASS!"

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

© 2025 CODE:BKRX — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[eff4freddie]

Play With Me

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader

Explicit - Minors DNI

You've found some creative ways to find time for each other in the past, and now for the first night in a while you've got the house to yourself. You're going to spoil yourself.

(AU no outbreak)

Warnings: Absolutely did not expect this to turn into a three-part series but here we are, I love these two horny weirdos, phone sex, Facetime-assisted tomfoolery, bath time, oral (f receiving), fingering, P in V, little bit of relationship-y stuff, bit of fluff maybe also, praise kink, dirty talk, squirting, these two are fun

Words: 5.5k

Part 1: Play With It

Part 2: Play With Her

Weeks had gone by since what you both called the ‘Frankie thing’. You didn’t bring it up unless you wanted to get Joel hot under the collar, and your prize was to watch the red blush right up his neck to his earlobes every time. You fell back into your usual routine, your shifts at the hospital got longer, got later, the jobsite got busier, Joel came home more and more in the dark.

He’d still manage to find little ways to make you feel special, to make you ache for him. Whispering ‘did he taste as sweet as me?’ to you as he bent down to kiss you goodbye, or sliding his hand along the inside of your thigh as you bent to pick up your backpack for the day. Little notes left on your dresser, of love and of wanting and enough to tide you over ‘til your schedules aligned.

You missed him, of course you missed him. The mornings when you rolled over to find him still beside you, tucking yourself into his chest and humming happily to yourself as you felt your eyelids drift shut, those were the mornings that made it possible to bear waking up alone, his side of the bed gently cooling, the smell of his shampoo still lingering on his pillow.

You sighed. Tonight, for the first time in a while, you would have the house all to yourself. It was Friday, and Joel had gently reminded you the night before that he had a boys night planned with Tommy and a couple of the guys from the site, a way to blow off steam after the long nights dealing with shitty suppliers, with bad weather and rusting equipment. You were only disappointed for a moment, reminding him that Sarah was off for the night with a friend and that you would be all alone in that big house, baby. He’d blushed again, a dangerous thickening in his pants before he managed to set himself right again.

‘M’sorry, baby,’ he’d said, with genuine contrition on his face.

‘It’s ok, sweet man,’ you’d said, resting your hand on his cheek and gazing up at him warmly. ‘Maybe I’ll see what Frankie’s up to.’

His little bark of surprised laughter was enough to get you through your night shift, as was the sting of his palm on your bottom where he’d playfully spanked you into a giggling, entirely false, apology.

So it was you found yourself sidling your aching bones into an empty house, the quiet of it unsettling for its unfamiliarity. You waited in the doorway, hovering, almost expecting Sarah to jump out from behind a couch and surprise you, but you were met with only silence.

You decided you were going to make the most of it, even if you ached for Joel. You were going to have a bath, and you were going to order a pizza, and you were going to be needlessly, pointlessly indulgent, because you had earned it, and because there was no one around to catch you.

--

You held your glass of wine just over the waterline, your head resting on the shower tile. You had your phone on the counter beside you playing music softly, the silence still setting you on edge if you let yourself slip into it. You felt the ease of your muscles in the warmth of the water, the pizza settling heavy but welcome in your belly. You splayed your toes, playing with the bubbles on the surface of the water, and smiled to yourself when they popped against your skin. You wondered what Joel was up to, what dive bar Tommy’d dragged him to, and if he missed you, and then you reminded yourself you weren’t doing that tonight, that tonight was about what you wanted, and you thought about his cock instead.

And his arms, wrapped fast and safe around you, holding him to you. And the cords of his veins just beneath the surface of his skin, and how you could feel his pulse when you laved there with your tongue. You thought about the little high-pitched whines you could wring from him, palming your tits as you took him in your mouth. You gasped a little, the sense-memory sending a bolt of want into your cunt, and you settled yourself down into the water, your racing heart refracting in the water around you, the reverberating beat turning cavernous against the enamel of the bath.

As if you had conjured it, you heard the vibrations of your phone and you tried to flick the water from your hand before you reached for it.

He sounded tinny, an echo you couldn’t place behind his voice. ‘Hey, baby,’ he said, and you felt the tension melt from your shoulders.

‘Hi…’ you whispered, suddenly bashful, as if he could read your thoughts.

‘What you up to, Babygirl?’ he asked, and you could hear the grin. ‘Thought you were kiddin’ about getting Frankie over.’

You giggled, gently, into the warmth surrounding you. ‘Just me tonight, I promise,’ you assured.

‘Where are you, honey?’ he asked. ‘You in bed?’

‘Mmm-mmm,’ you hummed, waiting for a second to drop the bomb on him. ‘In the bath.’

You heard him moan a little, like you’d wounded him. ‘You all wet and soapy in there?’ he grunted, and you grinned before you caught yourself.

‘Where are you?’ you asked, suddenly worried Tommy could overhear.

‘Just outside the bar, was missin’ ya,’ he said, in that plainly Joel way that he could state something so simply, a want for you without any effort to mask it, enough that he could take your breath away.

‘You left your boys to talk to me?’

‘Keep thinkin’ bout you all alone in that big house.’

‘You been worrying what I might get up to?’ you teased.

‘Know exactly what you might get up to, an’ that’s the problem,’ he grumbled back, but you could hear the levity in it, could hear his dimple emerging proud on his cheek.

‘Was thinkin’ about what I might do if you were home, actually,’ you said, trying to match his matter-of-fact tone.

‘That right?’ he asked, and you smiled. You had him.

‘Mmhmm, thinking about the sounds you make when I’ve got you in my mouth.’ He groaned again, and you giggled. ‘Yeah, like that one, for example,’ you said.

‘God, it’s been too long, baby,’ he complained and you hummed in agreement. ‘You wanna…you wanna show me?’

‘Aren’t you out on the street somewhere?’ you asked.

‘I went back to my car to call ya, I’m just in a little street by the bar.’

‘Joel, people get arrested for that sorta thing.’

‘Ain’t no one around, baby, I promise,’ he said, and you could hear the whine in his voice, the neediness creeping in.

‘Is it dark enough?’ you asked, and you heard him sigh in victory.

‘Plenty dark, baby,’ he reassured. You hesitated for a moment longer, pushing your wet hair back off your face. You connected Facetime, holding the phone in front of you as you waited for him to appear.

You could see him fumbling, the phone slippery in his grip until he had it upright, trained on his face. You could just make it out, his skin pale in muted light coming in through the window, and you were surprised at just how dark it was. You couldn’t even really make out the street behind him.

You squinted. ‘You in there?’ he asked, and you saw the flash of his grin.

‘I see you, pretty lady,’ he said, and you realised the suds were covering less than you expected, the water levitating your breast just slightly, your nipples lengthening in the cool air and the heat of Joel’s gaze. You blushed a little, swishing some of the waning bubbles over yourself. You saw Joel pout in response.

‘This feels familiar,’ you said, and he grinned.

‘Know it does, but I don’t mind it,’ he said.

‘We make do,’ you agreed.

‘You wet for me, Babygirl?’ he asked, blunt again in that Joel way, and you gasped a little.

‘Well I’m in the bath…’ you teased, and he rolled his eyes.

‘Y’know what I meant,’ he responded.

‘No baby, I’m confused,’ you smiled, feigning ignorance, hoping to push him into saying something truly filth-

‘You achey and hot in that sweet little cunt’a yours?’ he asked, his voice gravel and dark as sin. You gasped, the pleasure of it shooting through to your core, your pussy suddenly pounding along with your heart.

‘Jesus,’ you uttered and you heard him chuckle.

‘Can see you blushin’ even from here,’ he said. The phone shifted a little, as if he was moving his grip, and you realised he was shuffling around to try and release himself from his pants. You leant forward, trying to see through the gloom.

‘Want to see me, baby?’ he asked, and you nodded your head, waiting as he angled the camera down. To your dismay you were met with almost total darkness.

‘I can’t…’ you started, frustration evident in your voice, and you heard him click his tongue.

‘Let me describe it for ya,’ he offered, and you nodded. ‘S’pulsin’, baby, can feel it throbbin’ in m’hand for you.’ Joel’s accent got thicker the more turned on he got. It was his tell, and you hadn’t told him you’d noticed it in fear that he would somehow rein it in.

‘Is it smooth?’ you asked. ‘Skin soft?’

‘Not as soft as that delicate skin you got on those precious l’il tits, baby,’ he said. ‘Can practically feel ‘em in m’mouth, your little nipple caught between m’teeth.’

You groaned, settling back, keeping the phone trained on your face as you let your eyes fall shut. Joel’s voice was enough to get you there, if you were honest. He could read you the shopping list and you’d come over all shaky-kneed and wanting in the middle of the grocery store.

‘Love teasing ‘em, one between m’fingers and suckin’ on the other. Love the way they swing and settle on m’cheeks when you start squirmin’ f’me.’

You could feel him, ghosts of his lips on your skin. He could play with your tits for hours, hefting them and watching them drop, rolling them in his palm, between his fingers, sucking and biting and easing the burn with his tongue. You sighed.

‘You touchin’ y’self, Babygirl?’ he asked, and you shook your head.

‘Not yet,’ you said, ‘imagining you here with me.’

‘Yeah, what you thinkin’ about exactly?’ he asked, and you could hear that he was breathless, that his voice carrying a subtle tremble.

‘When you eat my tits with your fingers inside me,’ you said, too turned on to mince your words. You heard his breath stutter, the unmistakable sound of skin sliding over skin.

‘What else, baby?’ he asked, and you closed your eyes again, letting the warmth of the bath water become his arms surrounding you, lifting you up, the wall behind you the warm, muscled planes of his chest.

‘Imagine you with one hand pinching my nipple, the other rolling my clit.’ You paused, gathering a breath. ‘Then you…you put your fingers…’ you trailed away, suddenly self-conscious, unable to see him but knowing he could see you plain as day.

‘Tell me, baby. S’ok to tell me what you want from me.’

‘You put your fingers in my cunt,’ you said, hearing his sharp breath as you slide your fingers down your belly, remembering after a moment to angle the phone to let him see. ‘Right here,’ you said, pulling your knees apart and lifting your hips a little, letting him see the pink of your folds, puffy and needy for him, leaking slick despite the water around you.

‘Oh, there she is,’ he whispered, and you whimpered, tracing your slick with your finger, turning light little glances on your clit.

‘Then you pump them,’ you went on, ‘you give me two until you stretch me out enough for a third.’

‘So tight, she’s so tight f’me,’ he agreed.

‘You stretch me out, though, make it so it’s good, so it’ll fit.’

‘Always, baby,’ he said, and you wished more than anything in that moment that you could see him, see the hunger in his eyes as his gaze settled at your core.

You whimpered, your frustration showing, and he sighed.

‘Wish I was there,’ he said, and you nodded, sullen. ‘What would I do if I was?’ he asked, needing to keep you talking, needing to hear the filth that could conjure for him, so fascinated by the contrast of your sweet, beautiful face and the true depths of your depravity. He loved every inch of it, loved what you could come up with when he had you so turned on you didn’t even know what you were saying.

‘You’d drain the bath,’ you said, and he tutted.

‘Cold, baby,’ he said, and you shook your head.

‘Mm-mm, because you’d be all over me,’ you said, as if this was obvious. ‘You’d be on your knees in front of me, and you’d hook my leg up over the edge of the bath and lift my hips up t’your mouth, and you’d eat my pussy until I squirted my come right down your throat.’

‘Sweet Baby Jesus,’ he muttered, his Southern truly showing now. ‘Drink you up, baby,’ he muttered.

‘Wanna see you,’ you groused. ‘Want you here with me.’

He swallowed, worried he was going to blow his cover. He could feel the tremor in his hands, the phone slippery in his sweaty palm.

‘What would I do t’ya after that?’ he asked, over a dry throat.

‘You’d pull me up and sling me over the counter, and you’d fuck up into me while you watched my face in the mirror,’ you said, glancing over at it as if you could conjure yourself there by sheer force of will.

He groaned, long and low. There you were, his filthy girl.

‘Baby…’ he gasped, not even sure what he was trying to tell you. You whined anyway, nodding your head at him, as you angled the phone to show him your fingers dancing fast over your clit now.

‘Come home, Joel,’ you groaned. ‘Don’t wanna come without your cock in me again.’

‘Again?’ he asked. ‘You been touchin’ y’self, baby?’

‘So much,’ you confessed, breathless. ‘So wet for you all day, can barely concentrate at work. Gotta…take care of it.’

He gasped. ‘She want it that bad?’ he asked, genuine surprise lacing his words.

‘I want you that bad,’ you replied, earnest. ‘Don’t you know, Joel?’

‘I didn’t…’ he said, feeling something swell bright and warm behind his chest. ‘I thought…I don’t know, thought you might be…after Frankie’n all, and these little phone things…’

Your hand stilled between your legs, focussing in again on what he was trying to communicate. He’d shifted his phone back to his face and you could see him examining you, like he was scanning for some kind of trick, for a lie.

‘Thought maybe I wasn’t…it wasn’t enough for ya, just when it’s…when it’s you and me.’

You let his words settle for a moment, as if you could make them make sense if you gave them enough time to marinate.

‘Baby, I love when it’s just us,’ you said, genuine confusion on your face. ‘I love the phone stuff, and the Frankie thing was…great, of course it was…but that’s just cherry on the top stuff, Baby. You’re the…the meal I want, any time, any day of the week.’

You could see him enough, just in the hint of light in the car window, that he had stopped moving too, was letting your words wash over him.

‘I worried I’d been…neglectin’ ya.’

‘You’re busy, Joel, and you have a lot of responsibilities on the jobsite. I know that, and I love that about you.’

‘Even if it takes me away from ya sometimes?’ he asked, and you could see it, then, that he was open to you in this moment, that he was somehow more your Joel than ever right now, this Joel that he only ever allowed you to see.

‘My sweet man,’ you said, wanting to reach into the screen and land a kiss on his brow. ‘I miss you, of course I do, but I ain’t mad about it when I can see it matters to you. That it makes you happy.’

He was quiet, gazing at you, like he couldn’t let himself believe it.

‘You wouldn’t want me not to work at the hospital, right?’ you prompted.

‘Course not, baby, you worked so hard f’that, and I’m prouda you.’

‘Right,’ you said. He considered this for a moment.

‘Ah, fuck,’ he said, huffing out a laugh. ‘M’a damn fool.’

You giggled, feeling the tension break.

‘My fool,’ you reminded him.

‘Stay there, Babygirl,’ he said suddenly, the phone shifting as he abruptly hung up. You blinked, double checking the phone to ensure that he definitely disconnected. You were about to call him back, thinking maybe the call dropped, before you heard the front door open and slam shut, heavy footfalls on the steps you knew instantly to be his.

‘Joel?’ you called in surprise as he pulled open the bathroom door, panting a little and his cheeks red. ‘Where…how did you…’

‘Was in the garage,’ he said, blushing slightly as he grabbed a towel and pulled you to stand.

‘You were…why?’

‘The phone thing, thought it’d be…y’know, hot like last time.’

‘I mean, it was. You were in the garage?’

‘Sshh, baby,’ he said, planting a kiss on your lips to quiet you as he wrapped you in the towel and pulled you from the bath, his hand sliding gently underneath to rest on your butt. ‘I was being’ dumb, but I’ll make it up t’ya.’

You barely had time to consider what he meant before he had you up over his shoulder, spanking you lightly as you squawked, your wet skin dampening his shirt. He carried you and dropped you heavy on the bed, his cock prominent and tenting in his pants as he gazed down at you, your towel having come loose in the commotion, your sweet little cunt peeping out from between your thighs as your legs fell open.

‘Such a sight, my beautiful girl,’ he said, allowing himself a moment to drink in the view before he got down on his knees on the carpet, ignoring the strain of the joint. ‘Been thinkin’ about this delicious pussy for days, for weeks, for m’whole life it feels like,’ he grumbled, and you gasped as he pulled your legs apart at the knees, slinging one over his shoulder and opening you up for him.

‘Drippin’ for me,’ he observed, running his nose over your slit, parting your folds with it as he puffed hot air across your gathering slick.

‘Baby,’ you whimpered, grasping for his hair with your hands. ‘Please, God, please…’

‘Sssh, I gotchya baby, I know,’ he comforted, holding you for just a moment longer in this torture, enjoying the way you were already squirming for him. You sighed as you felt his tongue finally lick a path up your folds, his nose still pressing gentle into your clit.

He lapped at you, pulsing need settling in his core as he considered himself having come home in this moment, having nestled in the warmth and sweet softness of your cunt, from which he never wished to depart. He felt the fluttering squeeze of your walls on his tongue, trying to pull him in, and he smiled, extending his tongue to fuck up inside you. Your slick overflowing from his mouth he savoured your sweet nectar, the grip of your thighs around his ears enough to tell him he was doing a good job.

You gasped as he moved, shifting to slide first one finger and then a second into your core. You felt yourself stretch even now, his thick fingers not even a fraction of the true heft of him, feeling the burn and the stretch and still the pulsing ache for his cock inside you, for him to properly split you, to mould you to him from the inside out. You keened as he suckled sweet and tight at your clit, his fingers scissoring now inside you, pushing at your walls as he hooked them towards your navel.

‘Oh, fuck…’ you muttered, clutching for him now, trying to draw him into you by the scalp. ‘Jesus, Joel, baby it’s so…’

‘Fuck,’ he mumbled, coming up for air for just a moment. ‘Those fuckin’ sounds you make, baby,’ he groaned, remembering how you moaned when Frankie slid his cock in your throat as he watched, remembering your sweet little gasps as he ate you, as Joel gripped himself and imagined it was him, imagined it was this moment, with you powerless from the pleasure he was wringing from you with his mouth, with his hands.

But you were shaking your head now, trying to push him away as he grunted, attempted to resist.

‘No, no…’ you were muttering, your head lolling from side to side.

‘Just give me this one, baby,’ he instructed.

‘Don’t wanna come yet,’ you complained, genuinely worried the pleasure would end you, grind the planet to a halt, make it fall off its axis and hurtle humanity into the tumbling dark. ‘Too good! Too good, Joel, oh God.’

Joel chuckled, only increasing the pace of his fingers inside you, preparing you for a third. ‘Just gimme this one, baby, and then y’can come on m’cock, promise,’ he swore, all earnest and feigned concern as if he wasn’t systematically taking you apart.

You could feel it, the twisting of the spring in your core, your abdomen tightening as you rolled your hips. You could feel the heat clawing up your chest, your cheeks burning, as he pushed his third finger hope. You heard yourself cry out, clawing at him, as he latched his mouth back to your clit, drawing it between his teeth and nibbling in a way that set every nerve ending ablaze.

You weren’t going to be able to stop it. He was going to make you come, and he wasn’t going to give you a choice. You felt the pleasure seize you, your body going rigid, overwrought as you felt tears slip onto your cheeks.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, one last attempt to implore him for mercy, before you felt the cord snap, the crash of your release as you fell over the edge, your eyes screwed shut as you rode his hand, your cunt caught in his beautiful, unforgiving mouth.

He watched you arc, your back rising from the bed as you rode out your pleasure, doing his best to keep his mouth on you as your hips rolled. He would never get tired of this, would work his fingers to the bone every day if it meant he could come home every night and tease these sounds from you, make you spasm for him, drink down your slick like it was the essence of life itself.

You hadn’t even really come down yet, your breath still in rapid gasps, your body still boneless beneath him, as he rolled you, pulling you by the hips onto all four and helping you lean your forehead to the mattress to steady you. Presenting your cunt to him this way, your folds blooming out from between the top of your thighs, your thighs stretched and your tits swaying beneath you. This was how he would keep you if he could, wet and gasping for him, splayed out and soon to be full of him, keep you leaking him on the bed of a daytime while he worked just to bring home sparking diamonds to lay in your upturned palms.

You were a fucking goddess like this, he thought. He wanted to show you.

You were dimly aware of his movements behind you, of his body reaching over you, his back on yours, as he slipped something cold and hard into your hand.

‘Look, baby,’ he said, as you lifted your head from the mattress to examine the phone he had given you. It was ringing. A Facetime call from him.

Without really understanding you answered, a sudden and lurid view of your cunt greeting you on the screen. You shifted, glancing down to see his phone, camera up, resting on the mattress between your knees.

‘Watch me stretch her, baby. Watch ‘er takin’ me,’ he grunted, and you shivered, eyes glued to the phone as his cock slid into frame. You jumped, a little giggle escaping you, as you felt it brush against your slit as you watched on the little screen.

‘Lookit how she’s drippin’,’ Joel praised from behind you, his hands settling on your hips as he leaned over your shoulder, watching his cock press firm against your folds. ‘Watch me slip inside ya,’ he preened, almost proud of his ingenuity and his irrevocably filthy mind.

He pushed forward, the tip slipping between your folds, the little pinch of resistance making you gasp before your pussy opened up to let him in. You watched on the screen as his cock pulsed, thrumming with the need for you, the throb of the shaft. You gasped, almost shocked by the intimacy of it.

‘Such a beautiful cock,’ you gasped, not even really hearing yourself, as Joel chuckled. He pressed forward again, easing himself in and letting you stretch. Your head flopped forward, the searing heat of him almost too much to bear, before you felt him gently grip your hair and raise your head again.

‘Uh-uh, baby, want you watchin’,’ he admonished and you whimpered, nodding your head.

‘I’ll be a…’ you groaned as your cunt clamped down on him, the fluttering waves of want temporarily stealing the words from you. ‘…be your good girl,’ you finished, and you heard Joel groan.

‘Yeah, you fuckin’ will be,’ he grit out, shoving the last few inches in to your greedy little cunt as it grasped him. ‘Be my good fuckin’ girl, watchin’ me fuck ya.’

You whimpered, nodding again, feeling his hand return to your hip as the other slipped underneath you to hold the heft of your tit in his palm, rolling the nipple between his fingertips and sending shivers of pleasure to your core.

On the screen you watched as your cunt swallowed him, your eyes widening at the realisation you had managed to take him all the way in, his balls settling heavy on your folds as he rocked his hips. You watched as he withdrew slightly, his shaft creamy with your slick and you groaned, feeling it clamp down on him, drawing him further into you, not willing to let him slide away.

Joel couldn’t look away, your puffy little cunt split open by his shaft, your slick gathering at your thighs and dripping, sliding over your skin towards the phone between your knees. He made a few experimental thrusts, testing the angle, making sure he wouldn’t move the phone out of the way, before he reared back and stuffed himself into you, feeling the power in it when you gasped, throwing your head back to stare, almost unseeing, at the ceiling above you.

‘Doin’ so good f’me,’ he grunted, leaning down to whisper into your ear, eyes still glued to the screen where he split you open. From this angle he could piston his hips and watch your butt jiggle from the front and your cunt swallow him whole from underneath. He wished he had a camera on your face, on your bouncing tits, wished he could see the fucked out look in your eyes as he fucked up into you, mercilessly chasing your high, and then his.

You were babbling, you were dimly aware, but you had lowered your head again to watch as he fucked you, to watch his rock-hard cock disappear inside you, and you couldn’t keep track of the words as they left your mouth.

‘Fuck, it’s so good,’ you whimpered.

‘So good t’me, baby,’ Joel replied, his breath coming in sharp pants as he felt the throb of his cock, the weight of it hard and throbbing, almost aching, as he sawed into you. ‘Missed this tight little pussy, missed this wet cunt.’

‘Missed…you…’ you whimpered between his harsh thrusts, gripping the phone in one hand and the sheets in the other. ‘Don’t stop, please Joel, don’t stop…’

‘I know baby, I know my sweet girl,’ he babbled, feeling his own release rushing towards him but determined you could get yours first. ‘Takin’ me so good.’

He slipped his hand from your hip and reached around, seeing his fingers appear on the screen as he made tight, fast circles on your clit. He watched as you shuddered, your hips rolling as you squeezed him, your fluttering walls gripping him tight and wet.

‘Look at that…’ he muttered to himself, transfixed by the flex of your cunt as it took his thrusts. He could see your slick, the creamy proof of your pleasure, spread over his shaft.

You cried out, overstimulated but still wanting more, afraid again that the towering wall of pleasure he was hurting towards would be too much, too intense, that it would shatter you somehow. Something was building, something essential and something different to anything you’d ever felt before, and it scared you enough to try to warn him.

‘Joel…’ you tried, words so hard to find behind the blinding frenzy he had you in.

‘You can take it, look how pretty you take it,’ he said as you cried out for him again.

‘It’s too much, I can’t…’ you pleaded.

To your utter devastation, the stroke of his cock stopped. You let out a whine, the sudden absence of his thrusts nearly enough to break you entirely. You heard him chuckle. ‘Y’sure about that, baby?’ he asked, and you shook your head ‘no’, your whole body taught and grasping.

‘No, no, no…’ you gritted out.

‘Want me to keep fuckin’ ya?’ he asked, pretending again that he wasn’t taunting you with his cock buried deep in your cunt.

‘Yes!’ you gasped, nodding your head so hard he worried you’d pull something. ‘Please, m’sorry, please….’ You cried, tears pooling again at your cheeks.

‘Ok, baby, just bein’ mean t’ya,’ he grinned. He resumed his thrusts, at the same brutal pace as before. You crashed, immediately, spasming hard around his cock as you gasped, shocked at the strength of it, the pleasure knocking every thought out of you brain as you spasmed, taking huge lung-fulls of air just to scream them out again.

‘Oh fuck, baby, oh my God…’ Joel gasped behind you, but you were too far gone to really hear him, to respond to him, as your hips rolled, as the heat of your cunt exploded around you, as the pleasure ricocheted up your nervous system and into your addled, overcome brain.

You gathered yourself just enough to raise your head, watching on the screen as Joel’s shaft throbbed, pumping wave after wave of come inside you, watching as it spilt from around his cock and out of your dripping cunt. Listened to his gasps, his throaty moans as his thrusts lost all rhythm, as he pumped you full of his spend, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he shot his load into your waiting cunt.

--

For a long moment, neither of you were able to move. Panting above you, his legs suddenly jelly, Joel only had the presence of mind enough to end the call before he took you by the hips and eased you down, gently to the mattress.

You hovered somewhere between wakefulness and unconsciousness, the gentle throb of your cunt receding as you caught your breath. You felt the bed shift underneath you as Joel moved but you couldn’t lift your head, barely flinching when you felt a warm washcloth dabbed gently at your entrance. You realised you were feeling cold, and you opened your eyes long enough to see the large wet patch underneath you.

‘Baby, did I…?’ you asked but he shushed you, his arms coming presently to pull you into his body as he lifted you up the bed, tucking you under the blankets and sliding in beside you.

You burrowed yourself into him, finding your place beneath his chin as he nestled you in beside him. You drifted, warm in his arms.

‘I like the phone thing,’ you said, the thought coming into your head and leaving your mouth almost simultaneously.

‘Mmm,’ Joel agreed, sleep pulling insistently at his sleeves.

‘Don’t need it, though,’ you affirmed, and you felt Joel nod his head above you. After the last hour he couldn’t remember why he thought you had.

‘Just need you,’ he mumbled, the warmth of your body against him making his muscles go slack.

You both drifted in the weightlessness before sleep.  

‘S’fun though,’ he muttered, to which you could only agree.

[ohlookitsakiralupin]

….I love this. I love it. “Were I not a girl I would have been a soldier!”

I don’t know why but I love this. Sure I don’t want to be a soldier but as a afab (assigned female at birth) I’ve always, idk, wondered if I could be a boy or something. It’s weird. I just love that, ‘yes I’m a girl but maybe I’ll do this fuck the rest of y’all’

I’m ranting. Anyways I love this.

My latest comic for The Nib was written by my friend Mike Thompson- it’s his first published comics work! 

The Nib has been a steady source of income and a huge support to me and many other indie cartoonists for years. They publish amazing work, but will be cut loose by their financial backer in July. You can read the official post about it from editor Matt Bors here.  They are still running their kickstarter-funded print magazine, but have to put digital publishing on hiatus until they figure out their next steps. If you’ve been thinking about supporting their membership program, now would be a good time. They have levels from $2 to $40 per month. I really don’t want this to be my last Nib piece! 

instagram / patreon / portfolio / the nib / etsy

[meo-eiru]

(don’t mind me as I write another fanfic in your asks 😗)

Elias x ghost reader (gender neutral)

tw: suicide, slight nsfw, ghostly activities, swearing.

————————————————————————————————

Ever since you’ve died 500 years ago, at the time you expected there to be no afterlife since you didn’t believe in the supernatural.. until your death happened and you became a ghost.

You’ve always been a bit of a prankster during the time you were alive and that habit didn’t really change once you’ve died in fact it only increased when you realized that no one could see or hear you, terrorizing villagers, possessing random objects or people, etc.

It always got a chuckle out of you when you would hover over churches as the priests chanted about how demons were among them when it was really just you, plus it was all you could do since the afterlife is kinda boring when your a ghost.

Fast forward to modern times and you roaming through the night bored out of your mind having nothing to do, people aren’t as horrified of ghosts as they used to be.

As you Roam the town you see a pretty girl walking down the street in a jacket and jeans, finally a good scare to cure your boredom, you slowly approach the girl or well.. float over to her then as you get closer and closer..

Wait. Is she looking at you? No no that’s impossible maybe it’s just a coincidence.. though you hover around her just in case she does and her gaze follows you the whole time, ok she definitely sees you but can she hear you?

you: “can you hear me?”

???: yea..

You: “What the fuck???.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………

THATS A MAN???

You had no idea that a guy could be that feminine I mean sure you saw some pretty men before but this is on a whole other level, You didn’t even notice that he was looking at you mesmerized as well.

You snap out of amazement as you realize that.. this dude hasn’t blinked one time and it kinda looks like his eyes about to fall out if he keeps staring at you like that, you looked down at him curiously since the living has never been able to see you and yet here this guy is looking up at you as if your some goddess when in your personal opinion your ok looking at best.

You: “soooo what’s your name beautiful?

Elias: “Elias..”

You: “cool! So uh why are you walking out so late at night?”

Elias doesn’t answer you that time since he just continues to look up at you like your a goddess which is kinda making you feel awkward at this point since you haven’t really interacted with someone in centuries that isn’t either possession, jump scares or prank or what you consider a prank.

You snap your fingers in front of him to make sure he’s still in the right headspace, he hasn’t blinked in 5 minutes and it’s kinda hard to look at but after you nudge him a little he finally snaps out of his trance which makes you sigh in relief.

You: “so now will you answer me and tell me what your doing out so late tall, pale and beautiful?”

Elias: “o-oh Yea right, I was just strolling around the neighborhood for a breath of fresh air.

You: “at three am?”

Elias: “yea?”

You: “uh ok.. I’ll just go now.”

Elias: “WAIT!!”

You: oh god.. what?

Elias: “wanna come with me.”

You: “uhh ok?”

Elias: wait really?

you: “well yea I don’t do much anyways, the afterlife is kinda boring so lead the way pretty boy.”

Elias is kinda surprised that you agreed so quickly leads the way to his home and as you reach there, man his place is really nice yet he doesn’t seem to react to it much, Elias unlocks the door to him while you just float in.

You explore his apartment loft apartment admiring all the antiques, paintings, his bedroom, bathrooms, etc. but you do notice that his apartment doesn’t really have any personality in it other then the fact that it looks nice.

You float back to Elias who is sitting on his couch while watching tv and doesn’t seem to notice your there yet so you take this as an opportunity to give him a little scare, you slowly hover behind then jump out in front of him.

Elias doesn’t really seem to flinch all that much as he kinda just stares you, you lower your hands in disappointment as you hover over him

You: “oh come on your not even a little scared?

Elias: “No? Would you like for me to act scared darling?

you: “well ye- hold up did you just call me darling?”

Elias: yea? What’s wrong?

You: “woahhh let’s slow the fuck down and calm it with the pet names alright?”

Elias looks at you confused as he then tries to touch you but his hand just goes through your body, You kinda just look at him awkwardly as he looks at his hand then back at you.

You: “Ok so how about we start off slow and then I’ll get with you, sound good?”

Elias:…fine.

Elias pouts as he leans on the couch but doesn’t really stop staring at you, you two will have to work on his staring problem in the future.

Months go by and Elias becomes more clingy while you don’t really mind, it’s not like your really gonna be leaving any time soon, well you could leave at any time and there is no way that Elias could stop you from doing so which Elias knows and makes him kinda paranoid.

However you two have started dating a little while ago, Elias was ecstatic when you said yes to dating him, now you must be wondering how you and Elias’s sex life is going. Well it’s surprisingly going fine at least for you, since you can’t really touch each other physically you can still use toys on him which is great but..

Elias wants to actually touch you and feel you but he knows he can’t, he would sometimes go into meltdowns when you decided to leave the apartment, thinking that you were with someone and when you come home to seeing him have those meltdowns, you would awkwardly comfort and reassure him that your not cheating which somehow worked each time.

Since you haven’t exactly interacted with anyone else directly for centuries so your comfort skills aren’t exactly the best plus your too emotionally detached to fully care for when he has said meltdowns, though the main reason you comfort him is because you don’t want the possibility of being with him for eternity if he were to turn into a ghost when he dies.

You love him but only to an extent of which someone would love their pet, you find him entertaining, love him and spoil him with affection but at the end of the day they are just a pet and they are replaceable or at least that is how it is in your mindset.

One day you come back to the apartment but Elias seems nowhere to be seen, you explore the apartment from head to toe but still can’t find him for some reason, not even in his usual spots until you find a note that seems to be by Elias that says to meet him by the beach at night.

You wait until it gets dark then you float over to the beach just to see Elias and him holding a gun to his head with his hair a mess and clear tear stains from him crying, you slowly hover over to him trying to get him to drop the gun.

Elias slightly moves his finger over the trigger of the gun which for the first time in decades makes you panic a little, you love him but not enough to want to possibly spend eternity together.

Your voice starts getting a little shaky as you continue to try to provoke him to not shoot himself in the head and for a little while it seems to be working as Elias slowly begins to weaken his finger on the trigger.

You begin to calm down a bit but what shocks you next is that he pulls the trigger while.. smiling, you watch in shock as his body hits the ground while he bleeds out on the white sand.

You begin to frantically look around to seen any sign or trace of Elias’s figure anywhere but after a few minutes you sigh in relief, you look down at Elias’s dead body then float away.

As hours turn in to days, as days into weeks, as weeks into months, as months turn into years, you assume that Elias is fully gone, that he is in whatever paradise or purgatory that exists out there as you wander the world.

One day as your watching a solar eclipse with the living, you admire how spectacular it is and relish in its cosmic beauty, you feel a hand touch your shoulder which makes you confused but your assuming it’s nothing but then.. you hear HIS voice…

“Darlinnng~ did you miss me?”

You slowly turn around just to see Elias.. he’s gorgeous, ghastly, lavenders surrounding him, no pupils, his hair is long and lilac, wearing a silk dress. He practically looked like an mythological figure.

You finally look at him in a new way one that you would’ve never that you would ever feeling for someone..

Fear and respect.

(This took way longer than I expected 💀. But I hope you like it)

"Fanfic" YOU SENT A WHOLE BOOK MY WAY

This concept is sooo fun, as the ghost you're technically the one with the most control over the relationship. You can come anytime you want and you can go anytime you want.

But a human loving you to the point of ending his own life just to be able to touch and feel you... You no longer have an escape, he has obtained the power to go after you anytime anywhere, even if it costed him his own life.

And the said human is ELIAS, spending an eternity with him would completely break both of you it's horrifying

[prettyangellllll]

Drunk call

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader x Barry

Warnings: Mild swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk Rafe being the sweetest, lots of fluff, Barry third-wheeling, FaceTime romance, slight clinginess from Rafe.

Summary: Rafe is having a boys’ night with Barry, drinking and messing around like usual. But after a few drinks, he starts missing his girlfriend way too much. Drunk and hopelessly in love, he calls her in the middle of the night just to see her face, much to Barry’s amusement. What starts as a simple video call turns into Rafe begging her to come over, showering her in sweet, slurred compliments, and proving that even in his drunken haze, she’s the only thing on his mind.

also barry is being the cutest eveeer

------

It was almost 2 AM when your phone buzzed against the nightstand, the sound making you stir from your half-asleep state. You groaned softly, blinking against the dim glow of your bedroom, before reaching for it. The screen lit up with a familiar name.

Rafe Cameron.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you picked up the call. The second the video connected, you were met with Rafe’s face, slightly flushed, hair messy, and a dopey grin stretching across his lips. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, but the second he saw you, they lit up like fireworks.

“There she is,” he slurred happily, holding the phone too close to his face before pulling it back. “Hi, baby.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “Rafe, are you drunk?”

Barry’s voice rang out in the background before Rafe could answer. “Oh, he’s wasted.”

Rafe ignored him, his entire focus locked on you. “M’not wasted. Just a little… buzzed.” His head swayed slightly, and you could tell he was lying.

“Rafe.”

“Okay, maybe a lot buzzed,” he admitted with a laugh, tilting his head dramatically. “But, babe, listen. I miss you so much.”

Your heart melted instantly. “You do?”

“Duh,” he scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m tryin’ to have fun, but I keep thinking about you. You should be here. Should be cuddlin’ me.”

Barry snorted in the background. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the past hour.”

Rafe shot him a glare. “Shut up, Barry.” Then, he turned back to you, pouting. “Baby, you left me all alone.”

You giggled. “You’re literally with Barry.”

“But it’s not the same,” he whined, flopping back against the couch. “Barry doesn’t smell as good as you. Barry doesn’t give me kisses. Barry doesn’t—”

“Okay, we get it, bro,” Barry interrupted, shaking his head. “I ain’t your girl, and I ain’t tryna be.”

Rafe rolled his eyes dramatically, then focused back on you, lower lip jutting out. “Come over,” he pleaded.

You shook your head. “You’re drunk, Rafe.”

“So?” He blinked. “I still love you when I’m drunk.” His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. “Love you even more, actually.”

Your stomach flipped, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m always cute,” he corrected, grinning lazily. “But you’re the cutest. Prettiest. Sweetest. The bestest girlfriend in the whole world.”

Barry made a gagging noise in the background. “Christ, I need another drink.”

Rafe ignored him, too busy staring at you through the screen like you were the only thing that mattered. “Baby, please come over,” he whispered, eyes practically begging. “Wanna hold you.”

You bit your lip, debating. It was late, but Rafe wasn’t going to let this go. And honestly? You missed him too.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased.

Rafe gasped dramatically. “No, don’t think. Just do.”

Barry laughed. “This is the neediest I’ve ever seen you, man.”

Rafe huffed. “You wouldn’t get it, Barry. You’ve never been in love.”

Barry raised a brow. “And you have?”

Rafe didn’t even hesitate. His gaze softened as he looked at you. “Yeah. I have.”

Your breath hitched. He was drunk, but you knew it was the truth. The raw honesty in his voice made your heart flutter.

“Fine,” you sighed, rolling out of bed. “I’ll come over.”

Rafe cheered like a little kid, grinning ear to ear. “Yes! Best girlfriend ever!”

Barry just shook his head. “Y’all are disgusting.”

But you didn’t care. Because even through the screen, you could see the way Rafe looked at you—like you were the only person in the world.

[6atals]

[제이크] 𝜗𝜚 ┈ your pussy so good, jake might throw up a set . . .

𝓌𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝘆!𝒿𝗮𝗸𝗲 ˖ 𝒻𝗲𝗺!𝓇𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 g. smut , nsfw , manhandling , skinship , established relationship , daddy kink , oral (f. rec) pwnp. 622WC ─── ℛ𝙀𝘼𝘿𝒾𝗡𝗚 𝓈𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 (coming soon ??) . 𓋜 . intimacy , pussy drunk ⟡ ⋆ not requested! not proofread! — reblog to become apart of the taglist ❤︎︎ my inbox is always open!

ℳ𝗶𝗿𝗮’𝘀 𝓃𝗼𝘁𝗲! 🗯️ . . . based off that one bruno mars song, i can’t get it out my head..

fat, juicy, and wet.

were the only three words jake needed to describe your tasty cunt. maybe, his stress reliever, his motivation to get through the day, nope. fat, juicy, and wet.

you knew jake was a madman when you two got into the bedroom, but something about today was different with jake.

“mm.. jakey..” you gripped onto his hair and looked down at him.

his tongue latched onto the nub of your clit hungrily, one hand keeping you pinned to the couch and the other one going higher to massage your breasts. you moaned out at the feeling of so many different feelings at a time. “goddamn mama.. this pussy is gonna be the death of me. could eat this pussy all day.” he moaned into your clit, closing his eyes as he embraced your cunt as if it were some prize he had worked for all week.

your legs clamped around his head, trying to get more friction. by now, he’s memorized all the parts that make you squirm whenever his tongue brushes across it. “had such a bad fucking— day today. fuck.. stupid fucking workers don’t know what they’re doing.. mmngh..missed this sweet pussy angel..”

jake groans into your sopping cunt about how, "can’t believe i had to wait all day for this little pussy.. fuck," pausing, simply to pull back and shoot at messy dime of spit right in between your folds. “was thinking about this fucking pussy all day. my fucking pussy.”

“daddy—please..”

the name falls right onto your lips, “daddy’s here baby. tell daddy what you want and he’ll give you it. you know daddy doesn’t like when you don’t speak.” he groaned softly into your sensitive bud, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs before sticking his tongue inside you. your back arches off the bed as you felt his tongue swirl specifically around your clit. “come on. answer me baby or i’ll stop.”

“o-oh fu—ck! wan you to eat me out until i.. cry..” you moaned out, your hands frantically trying to find something to grab as jake continued the abuse on your cunny.

"feels so fuckin- fuck, need more," you squeal as you deepen the arch of your back to get closer, your head naturally falling backwards. you were a blabbering mess.

the second you peer down and meet his gaze, he slips an obnoxiously long finger inside you, curling upwards to instantly find your sweet spot. over and over and over again, just to get that satisfying feeling of hearing you moan. all because of him. his lips never detaching from where he always insists they always belong. “such a greedy fucking girl. need more baby? need more of daddy’s tongue? beg for it, angel.”

“pl—ease daddy.. gonna.. gonna be so good for you.” you begged. the tip of his tongue hits that mushy spot that has your toes curling immediately— which doesn’t go unnoticed by jake, gaining a low chuckle from him.

he’s putting his lips back onto your swollen clit, slushing and slobbering his tongue against it as he pistons his digit deep inside you. “ff-fuuuckkk.. right there jakey! m’gonna- ah!”

“cum for me angel. you deserve it.” you moaned out before releasing all over his face. his chin covered in all your juices, his face remained with a proud “i did that” look as he pulled his digits out of you.

you sighed, closing your eyes shut. such an eager boy.

do not copy, repost or steal my works.

©6atals est. 2025

[sc0tters]

Comforts and Kisses | Will Smith & Macklin Celebrini

summary: when the sharks lose another game there is only one person Macklin and Will want to see, you.

request: yes/no

warnings: throuple, minor to minimal swearing

word count: 1.09k

authors note: hello loves! this is our first attempt at a throuple that had nothing to do with a threesome and I have to say that I actually really enjoyed this little piece, so if you saw my post I am tempted to turn this into a drabble series so let me know if it is something you guys want because it would be driven by what you guys want to see. this is apart of the one shot wonder event which still has space for requests if you are interested!

The boys were feeling rough after the loss. 

You already knew they were coming straight to yours after the game after you couldn’t make it, needing to get course work done. They always felt like they didn’t do as well when you weren’t in the crowd. Nevertheless, they understood that your studies took priority “baby?” Macklin called out as he opened the door to your apartment “living room!” You got up, not entirely sure where your boys wanted to go. Sometimes they’d arrive, desperate for a shower, sometimes it was dinner, and other times it was just wanting to hold you. 

Their footsteps were heavy against your floorboards “shouldn’t have left your door unlocked.” Will clicked his tongue, seeing you in one of his hoodies “didn’t know if you guys had your keys.” You explained that Macklin was notorious for forgetting his key at yours. 

But whatever potential argument was about to start, was cut off when you saw how the younger boy’s cheeks were tear-stained “sweet boy.” You sighed, opening your arms for Macklin to walk straight into them. 

He instantly melted into your touch “we played like shit today.” His words made you frown when your fingers ran through his hair “you tried.” You shook your head “you both did.” Will didn’t often need to be comforted by you but that didn’t mean that he didn’t like to be acknowledged. 

Your way with words often made Macklin feel better “yeah maybe you should tell your dad about that.” Your dad was the coach of the team so Will sometimes took his anger out on you “yeah I’ll make sure to bring it up during family dinner and I’ll even tell him that I’m fucking two of his players.” You scoffed, hating how the blonde would let his feelings about your dad choose how he reacted to you sometimes. 

Will felt his lips push into a thin line “please don’t fight.” Macklin pleaded, running his fingers along you the waistband of your shoulders “not tonight.” His words were soft while he kissed your collarbone. 

You both felt bad looking at the younger boy “you’re right.” You ran your fingers along his cheek before pulled him into a kiss. Macklin felt your tongue run along his lower lip before you pulled away. 

His cheeks were red, making you smile “I am sorry.” You apologised to Will, watching him rake his fingers through his hair “me too.” He motioned to you to come closer to him. 

Will couldn’t help but sigh “it has been a rough week.” The boys had lost three games on the bounce so they were looking forward to a few days off “how can I help you?” Will loved how caring you always were and he made that known as he kissed your forehead. 

A smile formed in Macklin’s face seeing you two okay again “I honestly just want to forget about the last few days.” Will’s confession came as you pressed a peck against his lips, assuming that he meant sex “you wanna pick a movie for us Mack?” The offer made his teammate’s eyes light up. 

Will squeezed your hand “maybe later for that, Mack has been talking about a cuddle all day.” Your cheeks turned red feeling the older boy kiss your earlobe as he whispered his words to you. 

Macklin sat on the couch with the remote in his hand as he stared at the screen “don’t go sitting anywhere that isn’t right here baby.” He patted the side of the couch next to him as it was your usual spot “you coming with us?” It was a two-seater couch but they often found themselves sat resting against you as you’d play with their hair. 

Will nodded, sending you a smile when he sat down before he pulled you into his lap “fast and furious baby?” You asked watching Macklin press play “you okay with that?” He never wanted to disappoint you so he was constantly double-checking. 

You softly smiled tapping your chest “c’mere.” Macklin didn’t need to be told twice as he rested his head on your shoulder “thank you.” He kissed your neck, not entirely sure how else to please you in that moment. 

Will mimicked his teammates actions as he too begun to nip at your neck “fuck.” You caught your lower lip between your teeth as you arched your back against the couch “you good?” Will reached, watching Macklin lean up to your lips. 

The younger boy teased you, letting his lips dance over yours “thought I was meant to be making you both feel better?” You breathed wanting to pull Macklin closer to you. 

And the younger boy wasn’t going to stop you from that as his lips grazed yours “you being here makes us feel better sweet girl.” Will cooed seeing how his words made you smile “shush it’s getting to a good part!” Macklin grumbled, shooting the both of you a glare before he rested his head back on your shoulder. 

The boy brought your hand into his hair, emphasising what he wanted from you “bossy.” Will mouthed making you smile as you kissed the younger boys head. The blonde ran his fingers over your thigh, he knew he should have been watching the movie but still feeling a little irritated, he loved how you looked in his hoodie. 

His eyes staring at you made your thighs press together “such a pretty girl.” The blonde boy mumbled resting his head on your other shoulder, opting to behave for the night as his hand sat on your stomach. Softly, he pushed your hoodie up to reveal your skin. He knew your stomach was sensitive and he played into that when he looked up at you. 

Macklin was just watching the movie, occasionally turning his head to kiss you “stop it.” You warned Will after he had been the one to turn you down earlier “I just wanna feel what my hoodie has got to feel all day.” Will whispered into your ear with a smirk. 

His calloused fingers were rough against your soft skin “don’t remember telling you to take it.” It had been in his own closet, so you took it when you were over having out with them “looks so much better on me, though, don’t it?” You winked blowing him a kiss before Macklin sucked at his teeth. 

The brunette reached up to grab your jaw with two of his fingers “watch it doll.” He ordered wanting you both to shut up because at least then you focus on playing with his hair. 

[orleans-jester]

Pierre would take that as a promise. After all, why would Piper want to bring him back from the dead if they weren’t going to be spending any time together? This was just going straight to his ego - Piper cared about him so much that she was bending the very natural law to bring him back from the dead, and as a person with a brain - or rather as much of a brain as a Pierre could have. Brought him into this other world where he was safer.

He’d have to catch up later on what this Pierre was like. What about him had been so important that these people wanted him back. Welcomed him back.

“Thanks beautiful,” Pierre would wink at the fate, no matter which one of them had been the one to bring him the blanket, and he wrapped it around his shoulders, letting it dangle just long enough to cover his netherregions.

Of course Zero was going to volunteer. His own Zero had been exactly like this one. It made him feel all at home, all warm and cozy again. “Knew it would be you, pup.”

He was a little disappointed that ‘breaking it in’ wasn’t going to include Seven, but he could accept that. He gave Seven a huge thumbs up. “You’re such a mama’s boy,” He teased his friend. “Enjoy life, man, and I’ll see you later.”

He had one arm around Zero, and the other was reaching for Piper’s. This Pierre had slightly different hands. The fingers were a bit more calloused, for this Pierre took music a bit more seriously than the other. Hey, serenading was always a good way to get the ladies. Bitches loved broody musician types and he could play into the stereotype. But he also gripped onto Piper’s hand, her being his literal ifeline here. The reason he was breathing in this forest air.

Bouncing around made his stomach feel a little bit queasy though.

He wasn’t used to that.

“Beautiful color scheme,” He smirked, looking around. Some things never changed. Piper’s colors didn’t. He was looking at those comfortable pillows like he wanted to just sink into them for a little while. Let his stomach settle. Let everything settle. Come to terms with what had just happened.

“I don’t need a stylist,” He said with a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. The tips were still slightly wet from the bathtub that they had been in. They clung to his neck. “But thanks, I preash. Especially for the green.”

He was going to be needing that alright. And the laptop was a good idea. He wasn’t necessarily the smartest man but he knew enough to do a little bit of research into this world, see what was different. He didn’t even know about the zombies yet. About what happened in Feral. What had happened to New Orleans. He knew the forest, and then the inn, and now this place, wherever it was that they were.

He pulled Piper into him, chest to chest for a second, his dark brown eyes looking into her purple ones. He licked his lips, then the corner of his mouth went up in a smile.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

He opened his mouth to answer that relaxing was exactly what he wanted to do, and maybe another bath, but Zero was on top of that, making him chuckle and rub the back of his neck.

“Start up the water,” Pierre said, pointing towards Zero. “And Piper, if you could kindly provide us with some groove, I think we’re going to have a beautiful night together.”

Promise him?

Piper wasn't ready for that. Would it be a lie if she promised?

She smiled, nodded, and sealed it with a kiss.

Close enough.

That one might get to her conscious later. Depends how deep she thinks about it. She was told Pierre is Pierre is Pierre in the grand scheme of things. Somehow they're all Pierre. So that was that and she was going to try and stick to it.

After the blaze in the forest a Fate was kind enough to wrap him in a blanket not having thought to bring him clothes. The plan was to take him back home straight away and deal with such things. His reaction however was just so... Pierre.

Zero jumped right up to volunteer. "Oh. Me! Me-me-me." He quickly grabbed up Pierre's hand like it was the most normal thing to do ready to head off anywhere.

Seven had his finger up in the air like he was raising his hand in a classroom when his mother, Lachesis stepped in between them.

"We're all very glad you're back, my dear and I'm sure you're very excited to break that body in as you say."

Clotho interrupted with a little shake of her hips.

"A little horizontal mambo never hurt anybody."

"BUT-" Lachesis glared daggers at Clotho, "-my son's been dead and a momma gets first dibs."

Seven's eyes went to Pierre with a little laugh. "I'll meet up with you a little later. Promise. Enjoy the pup. I will always be good to my momma. Allow me to break you in later."

Clotho kept shaking her hips as all three, Lachesis and Atropos started to head in formation in the same direction back home. Seven was still chuckling about breaking Pierre's body in. He wanted to break his own in too. At this point he had no idea it was a different timeline's Pierre. It looked Pierre to him. No one told him a thing. All Seven knew was he, himself felt good as new like he never died. He felt the same age as when he left. There weren't a lot of differences he could tell straight away. He felt like himself in the body he stole. He was feeling on top of the world and felt high on life, literally.

Lastly, there was Piper. She moved in towards Pierre. It was her responsibility to get Pierre stable and settled in this world, so she wasn't going to go anywhere. She understood the Fates wanting a moment with their lost son after she sprung that one on them out of the blue. It was probably extremely emotional for their family.

"Here." Piper put out her hand too. "Hotel time."

Piper was the only person with the ability to leave the fae circle. She'd pop Pierre and Zero to the inn, but that was just for a starting point. She had her special room there. Then she bounced them out. They left Feral. This Pierre was going to be given choices and freedom, a real life. Piper had it all planned. She had it all charted for him for later.

First, the room. It was already purchased and ready in hopes he said yes and she actually pulled this off.

She did.

So, as it would end up Pierre, Piper, and Zero were in the temporary room. Seven would be ported in later when he finished with his family.

This was Piper so the room was nothing short of luxury. She also stocked it with food for him.

"And there's a laptop. I already got it hooked up to the internet. I put a special charge card number in the drawer of the desk to use to start shopping. I didn't want to do it for you. I only bought a few essentials. Swim trunks in case you want to go down to the pool. Styling products, a little green, hair dryer, um, a couple shirts, pants, but I wanted to leave it to you. Most people like to dress themselves. If you really need a stylist to get started just let me know. Just whatever you need, use that card. Food. Whatever. I'll take care of it until we get you up and running in this life. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that. I'm just glad you're here."

"You get to stay here until you decide where you want to be. We can discuss all that whenever you're ready. Your choices. I figured you might just want to relax tonight."

"OH MY GOD. PIERRE! There's a whirlpool tub in this bathroom. It's as big as a swimming pool! Right here in the room!"

Zero looked between Piper and Pierre. "Sorry was I interrupting something? Seriously, you gotta see this."

[melancholyfool]

Haircut

Pairing: Henry Winter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You give Henry a haircut

a/n: sweet boy henry is my favourite henry

MasterList

Henry is sitting shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, his broad shoulders relaxed as he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. He looks impossibly calm, despite the fact that you’re about to cut his hair for the first time.

“You sure you want me to do this?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you gently lift a lock of his dark hair between your fingers.

Henry glances over his shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror. His eyes are warm. “I trust you.”

You smile at that, the flutter in your chest impossible to ignore. “I don’t think I’ve ever cut hair before,” you admit, moving to comb through his hair with your fingers.

He chuckles softly, his gaze drifting back down to the floor. “If it turns out horribly, I’ll just wear a hat.”

You laugh, but there’s a soft, sincere quality to the way he says it that makes your heart skip. You straighten up, positioning yourself behind him, the scissors in your hand steadying as you prepare to make your first cut.

“Okay, here we go,” you murmur, focusing on his hair, carefully snipping away the first section.

Henry doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even move, as if trusting you completely with every snip. The first cut feels like a small victory. You take your time, working slowly, trying your best to not to give Henry a bad haircut. Every now and then you’ll glance at his reflection in the mirror, catching his eyes watching you, his lips curling into a small smile.

“You’re doing great, love,” he says, low and soothing.

You can feel the weight of his words settling on you, the way his praise lifts something inside. “I’m glad you think so,” you murmur, trying to focus on the task at hand.

You carefully work around his head, fingers threading through his hair, trimming the edges, evening things out, making sure every cut is precise. Henry shifts slightly, and you can feel his body relax even further as you continue.

“I think I’m starting to like the idea of you cutting my hair,” Henry admits quietly, his voice taking on a teasing edge. “Maybe I’ll ask you to do it more often.”

You laugh softly, finishing up a small section before running your fingers through his hair again. “You’d let me cut it all the time?”

Henry turns his head to look at you, his expression suddenly serious, though his lips are still quirked with that playful glint. “If you wanted to.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide your smile as you continue cutting. “I don’t know if I’ll always be this precise,” you admit. “I might accidentally butcher it one day.”

“I’d let you try,” he says with a small shrug, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way you love. “You can do anything you want.”

Your heart swells. You finish the last of the cut, stepping back to examine your work.

“Well, how do you like it? I kept it a bit longer in the front for you,” you say, as you watch his reaction carefully.

Henry turns his head from side to side, then meets your eyes in the mirror. “I like it,” he says. “You’re the only one I’d trust with it.”

You feel your face flush, the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. “You’re a charmer, Henry.”

“I mean it.” He stands, finally turning to face you, his hands reaching for your waist, pulling you close. “I like everything you do.”

You blush harder, but there’s no hiding the smile that’s spreading across your face now. “I’m glad you do.”

Henry brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “You’re perfect.”

“You say that too much,” you tease.

“Not enough.”

Henry cradles your face and rubs his nose against yours then pinches your cheeks fondly, his touch light but filled with so much affection.

“You’re a little bit magical, you know?” he murmurs.

You giggle, "How about you cut my hair next time?"

Henry raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure? It might turn out terribly."

You smirk. "I'll wear a hat," you echo Henry's earlier words.

Henry just smiles and ruffles your hair. "Alright, just tell me when."

“Deal.”

[holylulusworld]

Plants & Babies

Summary: Lloyd is Lloyd, but he’s a good dad.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, naughty Lloyd, daddy Lloyd, fun, implied smut, no daddy kink

Catch up here: A very Lloyd Christmas

Plant apocalypse masterlist

“You’re always hungry, like your daddy,” you softly coo as your daughter latches onto your nipple. She greedily suckles at your tit, eyes focused on your face. “He loves them too.”

“Did someone say my name?”

Lloyd casually strolls into the bedroom, his eyes immediately drifting toward your exposed chest. He licks his lips and hums while cupping his crotch. Adjusting his pants, he tries not to think of getting naughty with his daughter around.

You chuckle because you saw him tug at his pants. Since you had his baby, Lloyd is obsessed with getting you pregnant again. Not that he wasn’t a horny dog before.

“I heard you ladies need daddy.” You snort at his words. “What?” He asks, his brow furrowed. “I’m here to save the day. What can I do for you today, Cupcake? I want to help.”

“You can make me tea and breakfast.” You grin at Lloyd. “Your daughter is sucking all the energy out of my body. And I need to put her to bed. It will take me some time to get her to sleep.”

“Consider it done, Cupcake.” Lloyd is gone before you can blink. He whistles a tune, already planning on getting you round again.

Lloyd is a man possessed. He cannot think of anything but having you on any surface of the house. Of course, he won’t tell you so. He’s obsessed with his newborn daughter too and doesn’t want you to strangle him before he gets the chance to watch her grow up.

“Your daddy is a dirty man,” you whisper before kissing your daughter’s head. “He tries to hide it but fails every time. You need to be careful, baby girl. He’s going to keep all the boys away from you. Your daddy loved to get naughty but wouldn’t have anyone near you.”

“Damn right,” Lloyd huffs as he walks back inside the bedroom, a tray filled with all the things having your mouth water. “No one is getting near my girls.” He smirks as you slowly rock your daughter in your arms. She burps loudly, making you chuckle as Lloyd snorts.

“She’s her father’s daughter.” Proudly puffing his chest, Lloyd steps in front of the bed to put the tray down. “Let me handle her, baby. I’ll put her to bed, and you can have breakfast and rest a little longer.”

When he carefully takes your daughter out of your arms, you smile. Lloyd is not only a horny dog but also a determined father too. “Now, pretty lady, I’m going to take you to bed.” He chuckles as he looks at you, not your daughter. “But first, I’ll help our sweet daughter sleep.”

“Naughty, Mr. Hansen,” you grab a croissant from the tray. “Maybe I got some sugar for you later.” You wink at Lloyd.

“I’ll keep you up on that promise, Cupcake…”

Watching Lloyd sneak back inside the bedroom, the baby phone in his hand, you smirk. “She’s asleep. Our little angel looks so sweet when asleep. Just like her mommy.”

“Hmm…” you purr his name and kneel on the bed. “Say something sexy to me, baby.”

“I love how your tits fight the nightgown,” Lloyd groans, eyes glued to your tits. “You look ready to get eaten, Cupcake.”

“No, say something really sexy,” you crawl toward the edge of the bed, tugging at his pants. “Come on, say what I want to hear.”

“Baby.” Lloyd cups your face, thumb brushing over your lower lips. You mewl when he says, “I’m going to take you plant shopping…”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Top Shelf Love: Chapter 3

A/N: Happy Four Nations Championship!!!! Do you like how I timed this perfectly with puck drop? 😉 I've been absolutely loving watching this tournament and watching Team USA win for Johnny! And it has reinvigorated my motivation to write our beloved, Hockey Cassian. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! It was both fun and challenging writing a hockey game from Nesta's perspective when she doesn't know the game lol. See the end chapter notes on AO3 for some fun hockey facts

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian

Cassian smiles down at the yellow fabric in his hands, the strokes and loops of silver sharpie in the one and nine, the dark blue lettering declaring Velasquez. It’s perfect, exactly what he needs, and already, he starts to imagine the reaction it will garner. A thanks, of course. Maybe a smile or a laugh. Hopefully, another dinner.

But perhaps that’s getting ahead of himself.

With a decided nod, he tosses the jersey over his arm, finally slipping out of his truck. He’s never been more thankful to have the vehicle back in his possession. As nice as the rental car the team had provided him with once he arrived had been, there’s something comforting about sitting in this particular cab again. About the soft worn leather seats. About the distinct smell of hockey that never quite leaves the carpet of the truck floor. Hell, even the deep red stain from when Mor decided to open and then subsequently spilt wine is a comfort.

He still remembers when he first purchased the truck. It was his first major purchase after signing his first NHL contract. It had all been so surreal back then, being drafted, being signed, being on a proper NHL sheet of ice for the first time, and even now, Cassian can’t help but think back to when he was just a boy, and what that boy would think if he saw what they grew up and became.

Shaking his head of those thoughts, Cassian continues along the sidewalk until he reaches the storefront of Grumpy & Sunshine Books. When he peers through the front window, he spies Nesta standing just behind the counter. Much like the previous time he stepped inside the bookstore, Nesta has a book opened in front of her.

He's beginning to think it's a regular pose for her.

For a moment, all he can do is stare at her, at the way the lights of the bookstore dance off the golden brown strands of her hair, the soft sweater she’s wearing that’s just oversized enough that the wide collar exposes a sliver of collarbone and shoulder. She has her jaw cradled in the palm of her hand, clearly relaxed and at peace within the quiet of the bookstore. Unguarded in a way he's never seen. Even with the distance between them, Cassian can see the pretty pink that starts to spill across her cheeks, and he has to bite down a smirk as he finally strides inside.

“Did you get to the smutty part?” Cassian asks as he approaches the counter.

Nesta slams her book closed, raising her head to glare at him. “Is this going to become a regular occurrence with you?”

Cassian merely smiles in the face of her ire, holding up the jersey so that Nesta can see the back of it. “One jersey, signed by the entire Preds team. As promised.”

Nesta blinks a few times, but after a moment, she reaches forward, taking the jersey from his hands. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to pass this along to Gwyn.”

“And I also have these,” Cassian continues, reaching into his back pocket. “Three tickets to the Kraken’s home opener.”

Nesta doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move to take the tickets from his hand. Instead, she merely continues to watch him, eyes narrowing slightly. The reaction, the way those blue eyes flare, just has Cassian’s grin growing. It’s certainly a look he’s growing familiar with, one he’ll be adding to his ever growing mental catalog. He waves the tickets, hoping the gesture is enticing, but when that doesn’t work, he merely sets them down on the counter, sliding them over to her.

“You want me to go to a hockey game?” The way she drawls the question practically has Cassian's blood singing.

“How can I be expected to play my best if you’re not there to cheer me on?” Cassian offers, earning an eye roll and a scoff, exactly as he intended.

“Are you going to ask me to wear your away jersey and everything?” Nesta fires back, a smirk tugging up the corner of her lips.

The sight has Cassian’s heart kicking up with excitement, and he chuckles softly. “Been reading a lot of hockey romance novels recently, sweetheart?”

“You wish.”

Despite her words, the pink color that spills across her cheeks betrays her, gives her away. Gods, Cassian would give anything to draw out that pretty color elsewhere. Would give anything to trace that color with his fingers, his lips. Would give anything to see if the pale freckles brought out by that blush are echoed anywhere else across her skin.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you can’t wear my away jersey even if you want to.”

That gets her attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I don’t have my away jersey. In fact, I don’t have any of my equipment. It’s the team that makes sure the jerseys get washed, that makes sure all the gear stays cleaned, that our preferred sticks are ordered and stocked up. There’s a whole equipment team that’s hired and paid just to do that.”

“So, what?” Nesta asks dryly, crossing her arms. “All you do is just show up?”

“Pretty much. Show up, look pretty, play great hockey.”

Nesta snorts softly, barely more than a low, breathy sound, but Cassian still delights in it all the same. It’s so close to a laugh. Gods, he'd do unholy things to get a laugh out of her, a real laugh. Would it be light and melodic? Would it be low and refreshing? Would it start loud and taper off into little more than breathy giggles? Would her nose scrunch? Would crinkles pop beside her eyes? Would those eyes flare with the joy, the surprise at a laugh tearing out of her? Would the easy serenity remain on her expression when the laugh finally subsided, a soft smile and pink cheeks the footprints in the sand following the warm, gentle wave?

“Cassian.”

“What?” Cassian blinks, realizing belatedly that Nesta was speaking and he most definitely was not listening.

Nesta shakes her head and rolls her eyes again. “You’ve taken too many pucks to the head.”

“And you can watch me take some more to the head on Tuesday.”

“Switching tactics?”

At Cassian’s wide, winning grin, Nesta sighs softly, finally picking up the tickets. She reads them over, and for a moment, Cassian is entranced watching a little dip form between her eyebrows, watching her lips tug down in the barest hint of a frown. Would she ever let him slide his thumb against her skin, to smooth away those lines and those worries?

“If you’re worried about the seats not being together,” Cassian jumps in to assure her. “The team only gives each guy two tickets, so had to ask one of the other guys for the third, but Donny promised me the families have the whole row and they’re not really sticklers on who sits in which seat.”

“In row… S?” Nesta asks, holding up the tickets so Cassian can see the seat listed. “You want me to go to a game, but aren’t even going to get us first row?”

Cassian laughs easily at that. “I’m not a miracle worker, sweetheart. Do you have any idea how expensive seats along the glass are? It’s how the team gets a huge chunk of revenue each game.” Nesta hums at that, but doesn't say anything else.

At her continued silence, Cassian tries to keep his easy smile in place, refuses to let it slip or let his nerves truly show. "So, you'll be there?"

"We'll see," Nesta tells him, but she tucks the tickets away in between the pages of her books.

It feels like a win to Cassian, the same high as watching the puck sink into the netting, and he doesn't bother biting back the way his grin widens in response. But before he can say anything else, his phone starts to vibrate in his back pocket, the reminder he set for himself so he wouldn't be late. He quickly digs his phone out, silencing the alarm, and clears his throat, offering Nesta an apologetic wince.

"I have to get going, but… I'll see you around?"

Nesta merely waves her hand, opening back up her book and settling her cheek on her fist again as she returns to whatever whirlwind romance sweeps her away between the parchment and ink. Cassian knows a dismissal when he sees one. Even if he still desperately wants to know what's happening in her book, what has her so enraptured and desperate to return to the characters and story. He's quite confident he could listen for hours if she wanted to retell him the entire plot. He's quite confident that he'd give anything to know what her favorite romances are, what her favorite moments are, just so he can recreate them.

"Bye," Nesta snaps, her voice dry and annoyed.

Cassian clears his throat awkwardly again, realizing that he was definitely staring like an idiot. Again. With a nod, he finally moves toward the door of the bookshop, knowing that Coach will kill him if he's late for practice.

~ * * * ~

Cassian rolls his shoulders and neck, making his way down the hall and toward the training room. His hair is still wet from his shower, water droplets dripping from the strands and dampening the shoulders of his shirt, and he's definitely feeling the way he pushed himself during practice. But despite it all, there's still a lightness bubbling in his chest, and not just from his interaction with Nesta this morning. He feels like he's starting to mesh with the coaching staff, feels like he's really buying into the system they play here, feels like he can feel chemistry starting to build with the boys.

It's going to be a great season, a great year, he just knows it.

Awbrey is already sitting on one of the massage tables in the training room when Cassian steps inside, getting his shoulder wrapped in kinesiology tape, and Cassian offers him a nod as he walks past. He drops his bag in the corner and grabs a pair of compression boots, settling on one of the open massage tables. He gets to work sliding his feet in and securing the straps nice and tight.

"Need any help with that?" Cresseida asks, stepping over to Cassian with a raised eyebrow. She truly might be his favorite member of the training staff.

"I'm good," Cassian assures her, setting the boots to his desired level. He lets out a relieved sigh when the massage starts, already working through the knots and helping with the soreness. "Although, you could grab my phone from my bag for me. So I don't get bored."

"Exactly what I get paid for: doing menial tasks for hockey players."

"Aw, come on, Cress." Cassian puts on his best pout, gesturing with his arm to the now empty training room. "There's no one else here that needs attention."

Cresseida settles him with an unimpressed look that would definitely send him skittering away if he weren't currently pinned down by the compression boots. She narrows her eyes, the bright blue of them practically icing over, and Cassian offers her his most charming smile. It seems to do the trick, even as she sighs and rolls her eyes, but she steps over to where he dropped his bag.

He waits for her to grab his phone, already thinking about if it would be too much to text Nesta. He could keep it simple, casual, simply ask how her day is going. But a surprised laugh draws his attention, and when he snaps his head in the direction of the sound, Cresseida is holding up the book he'd purchased the first time he visited Nesta's bookstore, the one he simply shoved in the bag and then forgot about.

Viking Bride

"This is certainly not what I was expecting for your reading taste," Cresseida teases, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"What? Because I'm a professional athlete, I can't enjoy romance?"

"Where did you even get a book like this? No way they sell this at a mainstream bookstore."

"This bookstore called Grump & Sunshine Books actually. It's the best romance bookstore in the whole city."

Cresseida hums, flipping through the book. "And what do you think so far? How far have you read?"

"Oh, I don't…"

Cassian lets his words trail off, swallowing back down the admission that he had no intention of ever reading the book, that he only purchased it in an attempt to impress Nesta, a desperate plea to get her to talk to him. Because it gives him an idea, the perfect opening that he's been looking for.

"I haven't finished it yet," Cassian says instead, his grin growing. "But I'll let you know what I think."

~ * * * ~

Nesta

"Who knew there would be so many people," Nesta comments, keeping her eyes on the strands of copper hair leading the way in front of her through the sea of blue all around them.

"It is the home opener," Emerie reminds her, making a face when someone rushes past and knocks against her shoulder.

"This many people care about hockey?"

The dry remark earns Nesta a number of looks from the people around them, even more so when they take in her attire. At least her friends laugh easily, Gwyn turning back and looping her arm through Nesta's with a bright smile as they continue to walk.

"I told you, Nesta Archeron," Gwyn says. "You're going to have more fun than you think."

The benefit of having Gwyn is that she clearly knows where she's going and what she's doing. She leads Nesta and Emerie to the arena entrance and through security. Their tickets are scanned and then they're stepping fully inside. Nesta has to admit, it's impressive. It feels a bit larger than life, certainly spacious and modern. She takes in the large digital screen displays on the wall, the different food and drink options, what appears to be a team store called The Lair.

"Come on," Gwyn exclaims, leading the charge forward. "They let you go down to ice level for warmups."

There's already a number of fans and certainly plenty of children lining the first few rows of the arena, many with signs. Nesta even spots one little girl with a Kraken bobble hat and a sign declaring, Will trade a puck for a box of cookies!, in large looping letters. But despite all the people already there, Gwyn is able to weave and find a place for them right along the glass.

They have to wait longer than Nesta anticipated, especially when they haven't even gotten drinks yet, but eventually both teams skate onto the ice. It's like watching organized chaos, the way some of the players skate laps around their half of the ice, others taking shots at their own goalie, and others still doing what looks like tricks in their own little bubble, spinning around and moving their sticks back and forth quickly.

It's easy enough to spot Cassian. He's one of the few players not wearing a helmet, and Cassian's hair is unmistakable, hanging in loose curls down to his shoulders and the dark blue of his jersey. His smile is wide and bright, and Nesta watches as he skates a lap before throwing his body against his teammate's, shoving the teammate against the glass, with an easy laugh.

Cassian skates away from the teammate, skates right toward where Nesta and her friends are standing, and she wonders if he somehow spotted them, but instead he drops down to his knees against the ice. He does it with surprising ease, like the motion is nothing for him. Nesta can't look away as he leans forward, practically on all fours with his stick against the ice and his knees spread wide. It gives her a perfect view of his ass, even if it's covered in hockey gear.

Cassian slides his knees wider, spreading himself open wider still, and then he starts to move his hips. Forward and back. In small circles. His hips move, and Nesta's mouth goes dry. It's almost sensual, the way he works them, and it's definitely obscene. Cassian straightens back up onto his knees, stretching his arms and his stick behind his back, but the image of his moving hips is already seared in Nesta's mind, a teasing brand of what could be.

A cheer echoes from Nesta's left, jolting her back to the present, and when she looks over, she sees that little girl from earlier jumping up and down excitedly. A quick glance toward the ice reveals one of the Kraken players skating toward the bench, the bright green box of cookies cradled in his glove.

"Cute," Emerie murmurs, clearly noticing the same exchange.

Nesta decides to keep her focus firmly on any player other than Cassian after that as they continue to stand along the glass, watching as slowly but surely, the number of players begin to dwindle. Soon, a horn blares through the whole arena, the players still remaining on the ice heading off and the various fans around them starting to make their way back up the steps toward the concourse. Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn head up the stairs as well, deciding to find food and drinks before they find their seats.

Nesta has a can of beer in one hand and a pretzel in the other as she follows Emerie to the row of their seats. There's already a group of women and a few small children in their allotted row and the one behind. A pretty blonde woman sitting at the end jumps up with a smile, quickly turning to chastise the little boy beside her before turning her attention to Emerie.

"You must be Nesta. I'm Corra. Fionn told me to be on the look out for you."

"Oh, I'm not…" Emerie trails off, turning enough that she can point in Nesta's direction. "That's Nesta. I'm Emerie and this is Gwyn."

Nesta clocks the exact moment the woman notices what she's wearing, but she has to give Corra credit. Her smile only drops a centimeter before stretching wide again.

"Well, I've already asked Clare to switch seats, so you'll have three together."

They all murmur their thanks as they shuffle to the three open seats. Gwyn ends up beside a little girl—the sister to the little boy and Corra's other child it seems—and she wastes no time striking up a conversation with her. Nesta turns her own attention to the arena around them, the ice stretched out below them, even as she can feel the eyes of those around her practically burning a brand between her shoulder blades.

"Is it just me, or does it feel like high school?" Emerie murmurs from Nesta's other side. "Wish someone told us there's apparently a dress code."

Nesta hums her agreement, but she's saved from saying anything else when the lights in the arena go down. Cheers echo through the arena, melding with the music that starts to blare through the sound system. It's quite the display and entrance: the music, the light show displayed across the ice, the mini-movie spliced with hockey clips played on the large screens, even the tentacle lowered down onto the ice. But it feels like a bit much when they take the time to introduce every single player on the team, and Nesta doesn't bother holding back her eye roll when it's Cassian's turn.

But finally, after all the fanfare, the game starts, and Nesta tries her best to keep up. It's all so fast paced, the back and forth across the ice. She doesn't quite understand all the rules, but at one point, Gwyn starts screaming about something that happened, other fans seemingly just as upset.

It doesn't take long for the Kraken to score a goal, leaving the whole arena erupting in excitement, but it seems to take even less time for the other team to score too. By the time the horn is blaring to signal the end of the period, it's tied one to one.

Although there are no goals in the second period, the fast-pace continues. At one point, Cassian skates at one of the players of the other team, throwing his body against him and slamming the other player right into the boards. The two shove and grab at each other in the aftermath, and somewhere in the scuffle, Cassian loses his helmet. He tosses his head back when they separate, getting his hair out of his face, and Nesta wants to curse the Mother with how unfair it all is. How unfair such a display, such aggression, could somehow be so attractive.

By the third period, the energy in the arena has only built even higher. There's six minutes remaining on the clock when something happens, the whistle blowing and play stopping. Whatever it is, everyone around Nesta seems happy about it, cheering as one of the opposing team players skates toward the little hockey player time-out bench.

As play resumes, Cassian jumps over the boards and onto the ice. Nesta watches as one of his teammates passes him the puck, watches as he skates along the blue line painted across the ice with ease, feet criss-crossing over each other. She watches the way players seem to gather and shove in front of the net, watches the way Cassian pulls his stick back just to swing it back forward.

She can't believe he dared to take a shot through so many bodies.

She can't believe the horn sounds to indicate it's a goal.

Almost the entire arena jumps to their feet to cheer, Cassian and his teammates coming together on the ice to celebrate. They skate toward their bench, fist-bumping the teammates there, and then it's just a waiting game. Waiting for the final few minutes to tick down. Waiting for the final horn to sound, signaling the end of the game. Waiting for the team and all of the fans to celebrate the Kraken's victory.

The arena empties out surprisingly quickly once the game is over. Nesta herself is looking forward to getting out of the cold and back home to her warm bed, but it seems that Gwyn has completely enamored the little girl beside her, the little girl holding Gwyn's hand while she chatters away. The younger brother is fast asleep in his mother's lap, and Corra watches on with an expression that is both fond but unsurprised at her other child.

"Alright, don't tell anyone I'm doing this," Corra begins, standing up and adjusting the boy against her hip. "But come on."

Corra leads the way up the stairs and through the concourse toward an elevator. Nesta doesn't hear what she says to security, but they all clamber inside and are taken all the way down to the basement level. Down a hall and through a door finds them inside a large room. The walls are painted the dark blue of the team's colors, three televisions taking up space on two of them. There's sofas and armchairs along with tables and chairs arranged around most of the space, but what looks like a bar stretches across the back wall, and there appear to be children toys tucked away in the corner.

Nesta recognizes many of the women in the room from the seats around them during the game, all chatting and waiting around. It feels like they're standing around forever before the door opens again and the first Kraken player steps into the room. At least, it's like a domino effect after that, and one by one it seems various men step through the door to greet their other half. With each man that steps inside, Gwyn leans over to whisper who it is, and in some cases, statistics or facts about the player, much to Emerie's barely concealed entertainment.

"Nes!"

Nesta turns just in time to watch Cassian step inside the room. The black dress pants he's wearing are form fitting and practically hug the thick lines of muscle of his thighs. The matching jacket for his suit is slung casually over his arm, leaving him in just his black button down, and, of course, he has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, has the first few buttons undone. It gives Nesta the perfect tease of the dark lines of ink hiding beneath the fabric, gives her the perfect view of the veins in his forearms.

His hair is wet and slightly tangled, but somehow the messy look only seems to work for him. A pinkness seems to cling beneath the brown of his cheeks, but whether it's from his post-game shower or the exertion on the ice, Nesta isn't sure. With his wide, easy smile and his bright hazel eyes as he walks directly toward her, he's everything that Nesta wants to hate.

At least she gets to watch in real time as Cassian's smile falters and slips away. Small consolations.

"Are you… are you wearing a Flames jersey? Where'd you even get one of those?"

"What?" Nesta drawls, crossing her arms across her chest and raising a daring eyebrow. "You don't like my hockey jersey?"

The left side of Cassian's lips tug up in a smirk. "I just think you'd look a lot better in blue."

Nesta rolls her eyes at that, but she's spared from saying anything else when Emerie loudly clears her throat, drawing Cassian's attention.

"Emerie. Good to see you again. And you must be Gwyn. Nice to finally meet you."

"Thanks for the tickets, and the jersey," Gwyn tells him. "It was a good game. That was a nice shot at the end."

Cassian shrugs. "I got lucky with Jordy getting the tip."

Gwyn and Cassian continue to talk about hockey and the game, and Nesta is more than happy to just stand there and listen. It gives her a reprieve to remind her traitorous heart to stop being so affected by that stupid smirk of his, by the way he seems intent on looking at her. It gives her a chance to remind herself that no matter how attractive he might look on the ice or after a hockey game, it doesn't change the fact that he'll never actually care about her.

—

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[sincere1ystar]

Cursed From the Start

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

The odds were never in your favor with you and Coriolanus. Not in the beginning when he was a mere peacekeeper working his way up the ranks and not now that he’s to be engaged with someone else.

What if your legs carried you to the woods instead of the market that day? You wouldn’t have been pricked by one of Coriolanus’s roses, if you never met him maybe you would still be whole.

You were younger back then, bright-eyed with dreams that were only personified within the stars despite being from the districts. Fashion had been your form of self-expression for as long as you could remember, your dresses were your art. You had dreams of making it as a fashion designer, the first step you took towards that was setting up a stall in the market where you would sell your dresses at. The long hours were gruelling, but you would do anything to get your name out there.

One night business went on for longer than usual and when you finally wrapped it up with your last customer, the sun was long replaced by the moon. It would be fine, you just had to get home quickly. Quickly, quickly, before the shapes in the dark started to morph into your fears.

You’re broken out of your spell by the sight of a peacekeeper with buzzed blonde hair. “It’s quite late, isn’t it miss?”, the boy asks.

You quickly nod in return, clutching your belongings close to your chest. “The marketplace never sleeps.

He smiles at your wittiness. “I’m guessing you’re heading home now?”, which earns a nod of approval from you. “I’ll escort you back, walking alone at night is not exactly the safest thing to do”.

You accept the request. He introduces himself as Snow. Coriolanus Snow. It rolled off nicely from your tongue, as if the structure of your mouth was created to only chant his name. It was easy to converse with him, and you couldn’t deny his charm either.

Oh if only you knew the nervous wreck Coriolanus was on the inside. He was enamored, meeting someone who was just as driven as he was. You held your head high, just as motivated to move up the ranks as he was.

“Well this is my place!!”, you call out as the two of you approach your modest cottage. You didn’t need much space anyway, being the only one left alive in your family.

You thought that encounter would be the first and last sight you would catch of him. Unfortunate. You were hungry for more.

Little did you know, Coriolanus seemed to mirror your starvation. He would be damned if he let your story start and end with a simple walk home. He stops by your little section at the market during his time off. It was unusual to see a peacekeeper at a dress booth out of all places, but his heart never felt more at home.

You should have been cautious of him, he’s a peacekeeper after all. His character should have left a bitter taste in his mouth, but instead it filled your senses with sweetness. You couldn’t help but indulge in his little conversations.

“Do you know your constellations?”, you ask him one night when the two of you lied together under the stars.

“Not as well as I should”, he admitted, “Astrology was never my strong suit”.

You giggle at his confession before pointing to two of the more viable constellations. “That one’s called Perseus and the one right there is Andromeda”.

“An old legend?”, he asks looking over to you.

“It’s Greek mythology”, you correct, “A love story between Andromeda and Perseus forever immortalized by the stars”.

“A love story”, he acknowledges. He wanted to share a great love like that with you, one that would be forever written in the stars.

Your late night talks with him turned into something more. You would have never guessed that your friendly encounters would blossom into love, after all you had more important things to worry about, like your future career. You had dreams of runaways filled with your designs and your dresses being shown in public displays, companionship that ran as deep as the one you had with Coriolanus would be a distraction from reaching your goals. You weren’t going to let Coriolanus just have you, he would have to work for his chances.

Coriolanus had a feeling that you thought your deep driven motive to succeed in the fashion world, but your ambition didn’t scare him away. He had goals too, it wasn’t like he was going to stay a peacekeeper forever, he longed to be one of the country’s elite.

You couldn’t help yourself, you were falling for him. Every instinct in your body told you to stop, but you just couldn’t help yourself. His words swayed you down a different path, with him love didn’t feel like weakness.

He gave into the attraction first, the two of you were taking a stroll in the forest like you always did. You were collecting berries from the bushes, carefully placing each one into your basket. You looked up at him to make some sort of witty comment like you always did, but this time all be focused on was your parted lips, and before you knew it be was kissing you senseless in the woods.

You thought it was a spontaneous act of love, little did you know that on Coriolanus’s part it was all calculated. He would kiss you in the woods because there would be no eyes to catch the act. Maybe that should have been the first sign.

You had been with men before, but never like this. They were merely used as distractions from the stress of your attempts to get your name out there in the fashion world. But with Coriolanus, you felt something. You weren’t sure what it exactly was yet, but the feeling had made a home within your heart.

For a few months you thought Coriolanus would be the closest you would ever get to heaven. You raptured the small things: the little kisses he would give you, the way he would cling onto your waist during the early mornings, the way his touch would linger when the two of you would go on late night swims.

The two of you wanted to get married. You would often spend the last hours of the day lying on his chest while the two of you conversed about rings and cribs. Maybe to others it seemed like the two of you were moving too fast, but marriage was more than just a piece of paper and a ring to you. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, and marriage would allow you to do that. It was a far fetched dream, you couldn’t even publicly declare him as yours because of his role as a peacekeeper. If holding hands with Coriolanus was seen as a crime, then marriage would be treated as a sin.

The night came when you rested your head onto Coriolanus’s chest. This was the only time of day you were allowed to love him freely. “I met with my commander today”.

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”, you ask hopefully.

“He gave me an opportunity to move up the ranks…”, he swallows nervously. His heart broke at the hopeful look on your face.

You squeal in excitement at his words. “Does this mean we no longer have to love in secret anymore?” You were ecstatic at the mere thought of just being able to hold his hand publically.

He doesn’t answer, instead he looks away to avoid meeting your gaze. “Why’re you so quiet.. if this is about the possibility of you moving to a different district”-

“I would be sent back to the Capitol”, he quickly interrupts. You’re quiet for a moment before you slowly sit up as Coriolanus notices the distraught look on your face.

“Hey, hey it’s nothing to worry about”, he desperately added as his hands started to cup your face. “I’ll meet you there”.

All you can do is shudder out a breath as you attempt to prevent tears from leaking out of your eyes. “How?”

“You’ll make it as a stylist, do you not think people Capitol will want to see your designs? We’ll reunite there”, he says in between peppering little kisses onto the top of your head.

“You really think so?…”

“I know so.. I’ll wait for you daring”.

When Coriolanus left back to the Capitol he took your heart with him. The only thing you had to celebrate his memory was the ring he made for you out of a string of rope. It was supposed to be a makeshift for an actual diamond ring he planned to get you one day.

Your heartbreak fueled your work even more, dressmaking was your escape in order to avoid your feelings. It was better this way, it’s not like you lost him forever and the thread of rope around your finger reminded you of that. It only took a year for your dresses to be noticed by Capitol society.

As you were welcomed to the Capitol as a new and upcoming designer, Coriolanus was moving up the ranks as well. You would see his name in every paper and the words “Panem’s Next and Upcoming Politician!” under every picture posted of him. Reading his interviews that were published to the public showed you that his words had became stale and flavorless, you were sure it was just formality and the boy you knew was just hidden away.

You made your Capitol debut by attending the flashiest gala of the season, wearing a dress you intricately designed yourself of course. You knew Coriolanus would be there, anyone who meant anything important would be there.

You were nervous, but your excitement overcame your anxiety. You made your rounds around the Gala and made your way to reside in the garden outside the ballroom. Your hope was dimming inside you as you walked around the rose bushes, it had been hours with no sight of Coriolanus.

You were ready to drown in a sea of embarrassment, maybe you were wrong after all. Tears of shame blurred your vision and you hadn’t even noticed that you’d accidently bumped into someone on your way out.

You shakingly turn around to offer your apologies, but your flow of tears suddenly stopped when you realized who it was. “Coryo?”

He’s stunned by the sight of you before he smiles and pulls you in for a kiss. You hadn’t missed the way his eyes darted around anxiously before he leaned in, but you chose to focus on the emotions of reunion.

“I missed you..”, you mutter with your forehead against his. His buzzcut had grown out

Taking a clear look at him, you noticed that there was a lot about Coriolanus that had changed. You weren’t too surprised, it had been a year since your eyes last took him in. He no longer dressed in simple clothing. His buzzcut had grown out. And his ring-

His ring made out of torn up rope that he used to symbolize his promises to you was gone and replaced with a shiny silver wedding band. Coriolanus must have followed where your eyes were looking, and he sheepishly hid his hand behind his back.

“I’m sorry-”, he starts with his voice filled with remorse before your anger gushed away any sort of chance to offer an apology.

“You’re engaged”, you stated. If you questioned it he would have just offered you his side of the story and you were just too hurt to hear that now. What happened to waiting?

“I had to do it”, he says too calmly for your taste, “To be respected, I needed a wife to soften my image. You of all people should understand”.

You couldn’t fathom the words spewing out of his mouth. This wasn’t your Coryo. Your Coryo would have said that no amount of wealth or status could make up for your presence and that he didn’t even want to make it to the top if you weren’t going to be by his side.

He gave you reassurances as he kissed your forehead, muttering things about how the two of you could still be lovers but in secret. He slipped off his engagement ring as he cupped your face, but all you felt was disgust. This wasn’t the man that promised to be eternally yours.

You were praised by all sorts of prestigious fashion magazines: “From Rags to Riches!!”. All your wishes had finally come true hadn’t they?

Almost all your wishes. You flip the page of the magazine to find various pictures of a wedding dress, the one designed for Coriolanus’s wife-to-be.

[newmoonlover009]

Alone Time - Charlie Swan

“It’s torture not being able to touch you.”

Charlie Swan x Fem!Reader

Summary - Since Bella’s return to Forks, you and Charlie haven’t had much time to yourselves. However, Bella’s found herself tangled with Edward Cullen, granting both of you some alone time.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+, sexual content, neck kissing, quickie, dry humping, kissing, fast-paced, and that’s all folks!

(Let me know if I missed any.)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won't be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.

a/n - this is an extremely fast-paced one shot—I was originally going to write a blurb, but here we are. This is for my dry humping lovers 🤞🫶 Enjoy!! <3

Charlie’s arm drapes lazily around your shoulders, your side pressing against his as you’re cuddled on the couch. The muffled sound of Bella moving around upstairs grabs your attention, your eyes shifting from the glowing television screen to the ceiling. 

“Is she going somewhere?” You ask, a little hopeful. Guilt follows soon after—you don’t want her out of the house, but it’s been hard… adjusting. 

Bella’s only been home for a short time, and while you’ve welcomed her back with open arms, you hadn’t realized how difficult the transition would be. The previous countless nights alone with Charlie became near nonexistent. In no way do you blame Bella–or Charlie–but man, you miss him. 

“I’m not sure.” Charlie’s gravelly voice is uncertain.

As soon as Bella’s footsteps stumble down the stairs, Charlie sits up and you lean away from him, peering over to watch Bella’s entrance. She looks a little more done-up than usual, a subtle pink hue cascading across the hills of her cheeks. You fight the smirk that threatens to spread across your lips. You know that look very well. 

“Hey, guys.” Bella greets the two of you while entering the living room, rounding the couch to stand in front of you both. She rocks on the heels of her feet and tucks her hands into her back pockets, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. “I’m going to head out. I’ll see you guys later?” 

She tries turning away with little explanation, but you can feel the questions beginning to radiate off Charlie. He removes his arm from around you, resting his forearms against his knees, and looks up at Bella. 

“Where are you going?” He questions. His tone isn’t interrogating, but rather genuinely curious. 

Charlie hasn’t quite read Bella’s demeanor as well as you have. Usually, she’d come clean about what she’s doing—always warning you and Charlie that she’ll be out late, who she’s going with, what she’s doing—but none of that has surfaced at this moment. She’s not exactly hiding anything, but you were a teenage girl once—Bella’s anxious. Maybe even scared. 

“Oh, um.” She hesitates, her eyes flicking up to the ceiling, then to you, and back to Charlie. “I’m going out with Edward,” her words come out slowly, before adding, “Cullen—Edward Cullen.” 

Your smirk is proving hard to fight as your eyes glance over to Charlie, who’s completely stiff and at a loss for words. You can tell he’s trying to keep an open mind, and not jump to conclusions. 

“Edward Cullen…” He repeats to himself quietly, “Dr. Cullen’s son?” 

Bella nods.

“That’s great!” You reply cheerfully. The Cullens have been a great addition to Forks. Sure, they’ve only lived here for two years, but you still find them to be a nice bunch. You’ve only interacted with Carlisle Cullen at the hospital, and occasionally with his lovely wife, Esme. 

Charlie’s not exactly fond of your response, his eyes darting to you and back to Bella. 

“Isn’t he a little old for you?” Charlie says through clenched teeth. 

“Oh, my god.” You whisper, gently smacking the side of Charlie’s thigh. “She’s seventeen, Charlie, not twelve.” 

Bella silently thanks you through her wide brown eyes, already having a hard time admitting to her dad that she’s seeing a boy. She and her dad are very alike—they keep to themselves, avoid talking about feelings, and are easily embarrassed. 

“Yeah, Dad, we’re the same age. Besides, I thought you liked the Cullens?” She finally speaks, having gained confidence from your support. 

Charlie fights the urge to roll his eyes. It’s like watching someone argue with a mirror. 

“He does.” You butt in, resting a hand on his forearm. “Have a good time, Bella.” You smile, receiving a smaller one from her. 

“Thanks.” She slowly walks over to the front door, eyeing Charlie until he’s out of her view. 

“What time will you be home?” Charlie calls over his shoulder. 

“I might be out late. I’m hanging out with his family.” She yells back, shoving her arms into a thick winter coat in front of the door. “Don’t wait up!” 

With that, she’s out of sight, the gentle slam of the door following her exit. Charlie stays frozen in his hunched-over position, eyes blindly watching the TV. He’s deep in thought, clearly coping with the fact that his daughter is officially dating. You can’t help but chuckle, moving your hand from his forearm to his back, absently rubbing wide circles between his shoulder blades. 

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You admit, smiling apologetically when his head hangs. 

“I guess you’re right.” He groans, rubbing his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb, and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure this is just the first of many relationships she’ll have.” You reason, unable to contain your laugh when Charlie glares at you. He’s never had to deal with anything like this—having not been present for the majority of Bella’s life. Not that he didn’t want to, but he wasn’t able to. 

Charlie’s focused breathing lifts his shoulders steadily, his mind computing. Your brows gently furrow when you notice a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Now he’s really lost it, you think to yourself. 

“Talk to me,” you urge, trailing your hand from his back to his dark brown hair, gently scratching his scalp, “What are you thinking about—” However, words are lost on you when Charlie moves swiftly, turning and reaching over, repositioning you to lay on the couch. “Charlie, what are you— oh.” His lips are on your exposed neck within seconds, his knees moving skillfully to spread your legs, allowing his hips to rest snugly against yours. Your legs wrap around him, your arms snaking around his back and gripping the cotton fabric of his flannel. 

His lips move hastily against your heated flesh, the rough hair of his mustache scratching against your skin in its wake. As your breathing grows heavy, your body squirms against him, adjusting to his sudden affection. His hips are planted on yours, your breath hitching when you feel his bulge pressing against your clothed cunt.

“Don’t want to think about it.” His words mumble against your sensitive skin.

Fine by me. A soft moan releases with your shallow breaths, your legs pulling him closer, pushing his bulge snugly into you. A small noise of recognition catches in his throat when he notices your efforts, a smug smirk plastering itself on your neck. He moves his hips on his own, grinding deeply and creating consistent friction. 

The thin fabric of your leggings allows the rough material of his jeans to rub deliciously against your spread cunt. His erection grows firmer with every passing of his hips, his own grunts proving to be hard to mask with heavy breaths. 

“Charlie, I need you.” You whine, your hands finding their way into his dark loose waves and tugging his head back to look at you. 

His blown pupils signify that he needs you as much as you need him—his deep red lips shining from his assault on your neck. His hands grip the armrest of the couch where your head lays, his hips still absently moving against you. 

“It’s torture not being able to touch you.” He confesses with a strained expression, his head dipping to place his lips onto yours. 

All the times you’ve attempted to be intimate with Charlie since Bella’s return have proved to be unsuccessful. For starters, you’re uncomfortable with the idea of doing anything with her in the house—which is all the time. Except for now, of course, and you’re entirely prepared to make use of how much—or little—time you have alone with him. It’s clear that Charlie had the same intention as soon as Bella’s truck peeled out of the driveway.  

You moan into his touch, your lips moving fluidly with his as your senses are consumed by him. He continues his hip movements, slowly building pressure deep within your core. If he keeps this up, you’re surely going to finish just like this—like a couple of touch-starved college students. Although, you can’t find it in yourself to stop. His entirety surrounds you—his touch, his warmth, his smell, his taste. You’re lost in him, your rational thoughts distant.

The strength of your legs around him tightens, that familiar sensation sending rushes of arousal to your core. For every moan that crawls through your throat, Charlie’s eager lips swallow them. When he feels your desperate grasp in his hair, his tongue swipes along your lower lip, eliciting a groan from you when he floods your tastebuds. 

His movements grow faster, the couch groaning in response to the added pressure. The kiss breaks, both of your foreheads resting against each other while you breathe heavily—you because you’re nearing climax, and him because of his efforts, and likely the unbearable feeling of his erection rubbing against his boxers. 

With the change of speed, his bulge repeatedly massages against your aching clit, sending shock waves to your tightening core. The desire to want him inside you becomes intolerable, your moans growing more desperate and drawn. 

“Want you inside me, Charlie.” You beg, catching his eyes in a pleading gaze. His brows scrunch, eyes taking in your flushed appearance—plump lips slightly parted, brows furrowed, and cheeks pink. The rich browns of his eyes are nearly gone, his dark pupils dominating them, making his eyes appear black with hunger. “Please, Charlie, I’m so close. I can’t—” Can’t finish like this. 

You certainly can, but you’re unsure of when you’ll get another chance like this. Your mind is clouded with the mental image of finishing around his cock, gasping his name, and sinking your nails into his bare back—it only heightens your climax more. 

“C’mon, baby. Let go.” He whispers, dipping his head into your neck, gently sucking on the spot he knows you love. In addition, one of his hands comes down to the bottom hem of your shirt, the tips of his fingers trailing your stomach as he reaches beneath the fabric. His rugged hands gently grope your breast, his thumb rubbing over your hardened nipple. 

The mixed sensation of his lips on your neck, his hand caressing your nipple, and his erection grinding into your clit sends you into overdrive. The ability to form a thought is long gone, your mind clouded by the pure arousal that washes over you.

Your orgasm crashes into you, a surprised moan leaving your throat raw as you writhe against him. Your thighs tighten around him as your hands tug him firmly at the roots of his hair. He continues his multitasking, simultaneously giving attention to three different points of contact. 

The rush of your release dampens your underwear, surely soaking through the thin material of your leggings. The walls of your cunt uncontrollably pulse around nothing, the pattern meant to grasp at whatever, or whoever, was inside. Whispered curses push past your lips, your breath heaving as you struggle to catch it. Given the lack of skin-to-skin contact, you hadn’t expected your orgasm to hit so hard.

Once he’s sure you’ve ridden out your climax, his movements slow to a halt—his lips disconnecting from your neck leaving gentle pecks behind, his hand retreating from your shirt while tracing your soft skin, and his hips stilling, but pushing hard against you. 

When his eyes finally meet yours, you both giggle breathlessly, the matter of the situation dawning on you both. You silently blame the heat of the moment, both of you blushing from just how ridiculous your actions were. 

“Couldn’t have waited till we got upstairs?” You laugh, releasing your grip on his hair and resting your hands on his waist. 

“We can do that too.” He grins, leaning back and staring down at you. 

“But what if Bella—”

“I’m not done with you yet.” He cuts you off. 

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want, as it would be greatly appreciated, let me know if you prefer shorter one-shots or longer ones?

Tags:

[whenhypen]

if you're not living like a fish, are you even living?

leehan x gn!reader, 974 words now playing- waiting by woodz content warnings: undefined relationship (could be read romantically or platonically). mention of wearing a tux. heaving mentions or eating, snacks, and food.

(masterlist)

author’s note: I know the leehan fish trope is kinda overdone but I think this is cute :(

The kitchen, as always, was a mess. The walls were lined with mismatched mugs and a mess of dishes, a testament to six young boys sharing the apartment. It wasn’t anything special—just a cozy space where meals were quickly prepared between dance practices and late-night video game sessions. But tucked away in the kitchen was a quiet little oasis: a fish tank.

It was a simple setup, nestled on a crowded counter, but it had a way of drawing your attention whenever you passed by. The soft bubble of the filter, the flickering of the fluorescent light above, and the rhythmic movement of the corydora fish, as they swam in sync, made it feel like a world of its own. The tank became a small, peaceful getaway for anyone who cared to stop and watch.

Today, though, it wasn’t just the fish you were watching. 

Leehan was perched on a stool beside the tank, looking more relaxed than usual. His fingers hovered above the water, ready to drop in the flakes of fish food. The corydoras, as if anticipating him, crowded to the surface almost immediately.

"I swear, they act like they’ve never been fed," you said, leaning against the counter next to him, watching the fish bounce around excitedly.

Leehan glanced at you, barely containing a grin. "They’re just….passionate about their snacks. Can you blame them?"

You smirked. "If I had that kind of enthusiasm for food, I’d probably be doing better in life."

"Honestly, same," Leehan replied, shaking his head. "If I could live like them—eat, swim, repeat—I’d be a lot less stressed." He dropped the food into the tank, and the fish immediately rushed toward it in a flurry of fins and bubbles.

You watched the chaos for a moment, amused. "I wish I could live like that too. Just, you know, eat snacks all day and not worry about anything else."

Leehan turned to you, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "You could. You know, just embrace the corydora lifestyle. Find your calm in the chaos. Forget all the overthinking and just... snack."

"Yeah, but what if the snacks aren’t good enough?" you teased, tapping your chin contemplatingly. "What if the snacks are disappointing? What then?"

Leehan leaned in, pretending to be deeply philosophical. "That’s when you just... keep eating until you find the right snack. You don’t give up. You go for it, full force."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You’ve got a weirdly optimistic way of looking at life."

"It’s the corydora mindset," Leehan said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything. He sat back, watching the fish fight for the food like it was their one chance for a meal.

You thought for a moment, leaning back against the counter. "You know, I bet they have zero concept of what it means to save food. They don’t ration. They just eat."

Leehan nodded in agreement. "Exactly. No regrets. They’re not overthinking it. They see food, they go for it. That's the dream."

"Just like that," you said, holding up a chip from your own snack stash. "No regrets, right?"

Leehan smiled, looking at the chip in your hand like it might be the secret to unlocking eternal happiness. "Exactly. If you’re not living like the fish, are you even living?"

"That’s some deep stuff," you said, acting impressed. "You should put that on a shirt. Maybe with a fish and the words, 'Snack like you mean it.'"

Leehan smiled, eyes bright with excitement. "I’m so down. I’ll design it. I already have the font in mind."

You leaned closer to the tank, eyes narrowing as you watched the fish fight for the food. "I still can’t get over how hungry they always are. They’re like, the definition of excessive when it comes to snacks."

"They’re just really devoted to their food," Leehan replied, dropping more flakes in. "Maybe we could learn something from them. Like, how to truly appreciate the snack moments."

You smirked. "Yeah, but I think I’d pass on the whole ‘swarm everything in sight’ part. I like to eat my snacks with a little dignity."

Leehan raised an eyebrow, seemingly offended. "Dignity? When’s the last time you ate a snack with dignity? I’ve seen you scarf down pizza like you’re in a race."

You gave him a playful shove. "Okay, rude," you said, laughing. "But I do have standards. I’ll eat my snacks with dignity, just like I’d eat a meal at a fancy restaurant. The only difference is, I’m probably in sweatpants instead of a tux."

Leehan chuckled. "Honestly, though? That’s the real move. No need for tuxes or fine dining when you’ve got snacks. Just a comfy outfit, your favorite chips, and a good time."

You stared at him for a moment, suddenly realizing how seriously he was taking the whole "snack philosophy" thing. "I think you’ve cracked the code. This is the way."

Leehan looked at you with a smug grin. "I told you. Live like a corydora. Snack without fear. Eat without regret."

"Alright, Leehan, I see you," you said, impressed. "I might just have to take a page out of your book. I’m about to go full corydora on my next snack."

"That’s what I’m talking about," Leehan said, giving you a thumbs up. "And if you ever need a motivational speech, just hit me up. I’ve got the fish wisdom to take you to the next level."

You both laughed, and for a moment, the world outside the kitchen seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you, the corydoras, and the endless possibility of snacks.

And maybe, just maybe, Leehan had a point. Life was a little easier when you weren’t overthinking it. Just grab your snacks, enjoy the moment, and let everything else float by like the bubbles in the fish tank.