#let's pretend he just folded them perfectly to be out of sight

[trustymikh]

where is my beach episode

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

When Ghost had asked if you would help him with something, you’d answered yes without a question. You didn’t ask for details, smiling and thanking him every time he opened each door that led to the base’s parking garage, giggling when he even insisted on opening the truck door for you. You’d come to grow fond of your work husband, appreciating how he never failed to make you feel special.

You sometimes wished his affections were genuine, rather than part of what you’d assumed was a strange hazing ritual in the military (which you couldn’t deny kind of worked, the two of you had grown closer hadn’t you? Was that the point of hazings?).

But you knew that line of thinking wouldn’t lead anywhere, other than potential heartbreak. He surely was only joking around, wouldn’t return your feelings. That’s why you played along with the ruse, but tried your best not to fall too hard for the man who was making that more and more impossible.

Still though, you couldn’t deny the pang in your heart when you discovered the errand he requested your help with, was to go look at engagement rings.

Did he actually have someone special in his life? Someone he hoped to propose to?

You felt guilty, thinking there might be another person out there that he loves enough to ask them to marry him, all the while you’re enjoying his attention at work, pretending he could ever actually want you as his wife.

You follow him into the shop, eyes widening at the never ending cases and displays of shiny, glittering jewelry, as far as the eye can see.

He chuckles at your expression, telling you not to worry your pretty little head over any price tags, just to pick out whichever one you liked.

You appreciated that he trusts your judgement so much that he wanted your opinion on which ring to buy his partner, and so you take your time looking through them all, even if it makes you sad to picture him slipping this ring onto another person’s finger.

Gaze scanning the displays, your eye is instantly caught by one ring and one ring only. You point to it, Ghost humming in agreement, signalling for one of the employees behind the counter to unlock the case.

The man pulls the ring out, handing it to the Lieutenant who examines it in between gloved fingers.

“Let’s see how it fits.” He murmurs, taking your left hand in his and slipping the band onto your ring finger, both of your eyes locked on the movement.

“Like a glove.” The employee says with a smile, moving to gather a selection of ring boxes he hopes to show you both, seeing that the ring has evidently found its owner and fits perfectly.

“It’s really beautiful Ghost.” You tell him, admiring the ring as he admires your expression. “Your wife’s a lucky woman.” You add, thinking of the mystery woman you’re convinced he’s buying this for, assuming you must have a similar ring size to her or something, if he’s having you try it on.

Your eyes meet his own warm gaze as his hand folds your fingers, bringing the ring up to his lips to press a kiss through the mask.

“Not as lucky as I am to be her husband.”

[webism]

★★★ Thinking about the morning after a one night stand with Toji. Waking up to the soft sounds of him getting dressed and psyching himself up to sneak out. He keeps glancing back at you, though, wanting to rejoin you in bed and take you over and over and over again. He hasn't had sex that good in months. Maybe a year.

You're still sore, your legs ache from being hiked up over his shoulders for so long, pressed against your chest as he fucked you in the most nasty mating press you've ever been folded into. Your lips hurt, from the way he's catch them between his teeth and bite down. Hard. Your head hurts, from the dizzying orgasms you had, from the way you screamed his name until the sun started peaking over the horizon line.

And still, you want more.

"It's rude to leave someone sore and sad after fucking them like that," you make it known you're awake, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets slide off your body.

Toji is met with the sight of your chest, marked up with bites and hickies and what might somehow be the indentations of his nails. Still, he scoffs and starts to look for his pants just to realise they're hanging from your ceiling fan. "I'm not a cuddler," he grabs his bottoms and starts to pull them on.

"I don't want cuddles." It's a lie, you think. Cuddles with him would be nice: he's so big and warm and you fit perfectly in his hands. You wonder what his heart sounds like when he's still and calm. You wonder if he ever is still and calm. "What? You all fucked out?"

His cock twitches at the implication. You note the look on his face, the beginnings of hunger.

"Look," Toji starts, licking his lips. You're reminded of the mess you made all over his lips just hours before, how good he said you tasted. He's about to make an excuse, say he's got work or something, but Toji is nothing if not an opportunist. "Ah, fuck it."

And he's climbing back into the warmth of your bed and pressing his lips to yours in something heated and oddly... affectionate. You could close your eyes and pretend it's a good morning kiss, but you don't mind the way his cock is already hardening and pressing against your side, or the way he drags you out of bed and grumbles about how he needs a shower and if you want him to stay and give you good dick until you're full up and senseless, you'll let him make himself at home.

And you're still sore, but at least the scalding water does something to soothe the ache in your legs as Toji picks you up and drills his cock into you against the glass shower door. How good he looks with water running over his tight muscles; losing course over each scar of his and being jostled from his body with each mean snap of his hips into yours.

And he's an asshole, but not wholly horrible, so when you cum so hard on his cock that your whole body shakes, he's quick to clean you off, wrap you in a towel and take you back to bed.

Where he makes you cum one last time on his tongue before leaving <3 dw, he'll be in touch.

[marvel-slutt]

Giggling and kicking my feet at this account. Can I request a Spider-Man 1 & 3 fic (Tom and Andrew) Where we are dating Tom's Peter Parker, yandere obsessive type Peters for both of them if possible, and when Peter 3 gets taken to the Tom universe, he sees reader who he let get away in his timeline. Anyways, 3 asks 1 if he can just have her for one night, and 1 agrees as long as they do it together. Some dub/con because reader did not know about this arrangement lol. Use of web shooters to tie up reader. Lots of praise, any positions you want just some good ole unprotected p in v, possibly mentions of forced breeding kink? Like both peters talking about how they secretly thought about it once getting powers. 🙏🙏

JUST ONE NIGHT?

tom holland!peter x andrew garfield!peter x reader

SUMMARY: when Peter 3 sees his love in another universe, what will he do to make her his if only for one night

WARNINGS: NON/DUB CON, FORCED BREEDING, BONDAGE(webs), UNPROTECTED P IN V, PETER 1 & 3 TAKING TURNS IN Y/N, PRAISE, HAIRPULLING, TINY BIT OF DACRYPHILLIA IF YOU READ BETWEEN THE LINES.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

PLOT CHANGES: we’re gonna pretend that tobey’s spiderman peacefully left so we can focus on tom and andrew’s

A/N: i aint watched spiderman in a hot minute, so this is horrendously ooc 😭 tysm for the request, hopefully i did it well enough for your liking <3

MDNI, IF YOU READ THIS THEN ITS YOUR OWN FAULT AND NOT MINE

having peter as a boyfriend was everything you could dream of. he was loyal, protective, and maybe highly a little insane. but you loved him. however when another peter got tangled in the mix, it was even worse

your peter (peter 1) was like a territorial dog, always keeping an arm on your waist or a hand on the small of your back with a murderous glare at anyone who even thought they could try it on with you. this was mainly aimed at Peter 3 who - no matter how hard he tried - couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“she’s mine y’know. you gotta back off” peter 1 growled, keeping his voice low as to avoid awakening you. his eyes were narrowed in angry possession, hands balled in fists at his sides with his nails digging into his palms to try and prevent himself from swinging

peter 3 just stared back at him, hands raised in mocking surrender “look all i’m asking is one night with her, that’s it. i lost my Y/N, surely you can understand right? spidey to spidey”

peter 1 huffed and folded his arms over his chest, his murderous gaze not letting up. “one night, and we do it together. then you leave us alone, you go back to wherever you came from.”

this conversation happened around 20 minutes ago

“love, wake up for me” peter 1 murmured gently in your ear, not pleased about having to be slightly soft around peter 3 but he was never harsh towards you.

you slowly stirred awake, eyes fluttering open as you look up to see both peters with glazed over and sleepy eyes. before you could even question what was happening, peter 1 grabbed your chin and pulled you into a kiss.

your eyes closed as you kissed him back, tongues fighting for dominance in a battle that would inevitably end in your loss. his lips perfectly wove with your own whilst one hand tangled in your hair and pulled you closer, his other hand beginning to slide your pyjama pants down your legs

meanwhile peter 3 was watching, palming his hard length to the sight of you losing yourself in the kiss. harder than rock, he roughly continued whilst letting some low groans escape from between his slightly parted lips

peter one continued to kiss you, rubbing small but fast circles on your clit through that thin barrier of cotton. he relished in how you squirmed and writhed against him, drawing your pleasure out my occasionally slowing down just to tease you.

“peter,” you croaked out to your boyfriend through moans of pleasure. “we’re not alone, wha-”

“he’s joining in” your boyfriend says firmly, cutting you off before you could finish your sentence. “we’re both having you and then he leaves” peter 1 growls, shooting a glare over to peter 3

peter 3 was now full on tugging it, viciously stroking himself with a bruising grip, whilst softly grunting. he made eye contact with peter 1 and still didn’t stop “gonna let me take my turn?” he raised an eyebrow expectantly

“her mouth. all you’re getting” peter 1 replied, sliding a hand under your waistband and continuing to rub your clit.

“her cunt and then i leave.” the other man negotiates, continuing to stroke himself to the sight of you writhing against peter 1

“fuck, fine. but make it quick. bedroom.” peter 1 huffs, carrying you fireman style towards the bedroom. your ass stuck up in the air whilst he carried you, which was a sight that peter 3 couldn’t take his eyes off no matter how hard he tried

once in the bedroom, peter 1 stepped aside and gave peter 3 a nod to signal that he can begin. not wasting any time, peter 3 shot 4 webs at you. one on each wrist and ankle. he slid a pillow under your hips and looked down at you with a grin, his dick already throbbing with excitement

“so wet already huh? you’re gonna need it” peter 3 smirks before slowly burying himself to the hilt inside of your warm cunt. he gave you a brief moment to adjust before beginning to thrust, his hips slamming against yours in a feral and possessive manner.

“take it, be a good fuckin’ girl.” peter 3 grunts, his hand reaching over and tweaking one of your nipples, allowing it to pebble under his touch whilst he toys with it

you felt his dick kissing your cervix with every thrust, feeling him pull almost out before slamming back into you. he relished in the sight of how your tits bounced when he did that, how your whole body would move if not for the web-bondage he was using. the way he nudged your g-spot with every thrust, how his fingers pinched and twisted your nipples, it was all bringing you further and further to the edge. the familiar coil was tightening in your stomach, walls clenching around his dick as if greedily pulling him in.

“atta girl, cum on my cock for me.” peter 3 cooed as he continued everything he was doing. “gonna fuck you stupid, fill you with so much cum you’ll feel it for days after. hell, might even knock ya up if you plead hard enough”

his name tumbled from your lips in desperate and needy moans, babbling incoherently for him like some sort of cheap whore. your back arched with euphoria whilst clenching around his length, letting your cum practically coat him; all while your boyfriend was watching, palming and squeezing his own hardening cock whilst waiting for peter 3 to finish.

peter 3 finished almost instantly when he saw your own release, his long-awaited cum spurting out of his dick and flooding your cunt. you felt him fill you up practically to the brim and it was one of the best feelings.

peter 3 pulled out, but before you even had a chance to recover you felt the familiar feeling of peter 1 sliding into you, instantly and brutally fucking your already abused cunt; causing you to cry and whine with pleasure.

“think i was gonna let him breed ya? no. you’re mine, remember? gonna fill you with MY seed too, let you try and work out who’s it is when you’re knocked up” peter 1 muttered lowly and possessively, his thrusting into you in the rhythm he knew you liked

“we could do this all night, princess” peter 3 said cockily as he watched you getting dominated by peter 1. “both fuck you until all you remember is our name”

and the truth was: you’d let them go all night, and oh boy would this be a long night for you

A/N: I HAD SO MANY IDEAS BUT I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO WORD IT, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT THOUGH ^^

[arxiwon]

Study Break

Pairing: Jake Sim x Reader (Enhypen)

Genre: Smut, College AU, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Dirty Talk, Slight Dumbification

Jake had always been a distraction.

It wasn’t your fault—he was just too damn charming. Every time you tried to focus on studying, he’d find a way to pull you out of it. Whether it was his stupidly attractive smile, the way he chewed on his pen while concentrating, or how his shirt always seemed to ride up, exposing that sinful sliver of skin—you were losing your mind.

And now, sitting across from him in his dorm, you were supposed to be preparing for an exam, but all you could focus on was the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

“Hey, you listening?” Jake’s voice pulled you back, and you blinked, realizing you had completely zoned out.

“Huh?”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Thought so. You’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes.”

Heat rushed to your face. “No, I wasn’t.”

Jake chuckled, tilting his head as he studied you. “Yeah? Then why are you squeezing your thighs together like that?”

Your breath hitched. He had noticed.

Jake stood, making his way around the table until he was right in front of you. He placed his hands on the armrests of your chair, trapping you in. “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and I might have to do something about it.”

Your stomach flipped at the pet name, your throat suddenly dry. “Jake…”

He grinned, leaning down so his lips were barely an inch from yours. “Say the word,” he murmured. “Tell me you want me.”

You exhaled shakily, your resolve crumbling. “I want you.”

That was all it took.

Jake’s mouth crashed onto yours, the kiss deep and desperate. His hands found your waist, lifting you out of the chair with ease before placing you onto his desk. Books and papers scattered onto the floor, but neither of you cared.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and biting as his hands pushed up your hoodie, fingertips grazing over your stomach.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” he murmured against your skin. “Sitting there, pretending to study, while all you really wanted was for me to fuck you.”

You whined as he pulled your hoodie over your head, leaving you exposed in just your bra. His hands slid up your back, unclasping it in one swift motion before tossing it aside.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes darkening as he took you in. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, his tongue flicking over it as his hand groped the other. The sensation sent a rush of heat straight between your thighs, and you instinctively rubbed your legs together, desperate for friction.

Jake noticed immediately. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked, his fingers trailing down to the waistband of your shorts. “Let’s see how wet you are for me.”

He tugged them down, along with your panties, leaving you completely bare. He groaned at the sight, his fingers sliding between your folds, collecting your slick.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured. “You’re dripping.”

Your head fell back as he rubbed slow, teasing circles on your clit, his fingers barely applying pressure. “Jake, please—”

“Please what?” He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Gotta be specific, sweetheart.”

You whined, gripping his shoulders. “Please touch me.”

He grinned. “Good girl.”

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly against your sweet spot. Your back arched, a gasp slipping from your lips as he pumped them in and out at a torturously slow pace.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, watching the way you clenched around his fingers. “Bet you’d feel even better around my cock.”

You moaned at his words, your nails digging into his skin. “Jake—”

“Shh, baby,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss you as his fingers sped up. “Let me make you feel good.”

His thumb found your clit again, rubbing fast, tight circles that had you spiraling toward the edge. Your thighs trembled, your body aching for release.

“That’s it,” Jake whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. “Come for me, baby.”

His words sent you over the edge, pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm ripped through you. Jake swallowed your moans with a kiss, his fingers working you through it before finally pulling away.

But he wasn’t done.

As you caught your breath, he pulled his sweatpants down, his cock springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight—thick, long, already leaking precum.

He pumped himself a few times before positioning himself between your legs. “Think you can take me, baby?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

Jake groaned, gripping your thighs as he slid inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but the way he filled you was addicting.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathed, his forehead resting against yours. “So fucking tight around me.”

He gave you a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming into you, setting a deep, punishing pace. Each thrust sent shocks of pleasure through you, your body already overstimulated from your previous orgasm.

“You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he fucked into you harder. “Such a good girl for me.”

You could barely form words, only moans and broken gasps leaving your lips. Jake grinned, clearly enjoying how fucked-out you were.

“You love this, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Being fucked like a dumb little slut?”

You whimpered, your walls clenching around him at his filthy words.

Jake chuckled, biting down on your shoulder as he pounded into you. “Oh, baby, I felt that,” he teased. “You really do like it when I talk to you like this, huh?”

Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to ground you. “Jake—I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “Come all over my cock, baby.”

That was all it took. Your second orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body trembling as you clenched around him. Jake followed right after, burying himself deep inside you with a strangled groan as he filled you up.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath. Then Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“So,” he murmured with a grin. “Think we should study now?”

You laughed breathlessly, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

Jake smirked. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

[soangelbaby]

⊹ ི ͜ 𝜗 ˚˖ on cam ; jensen ackles

“ . . . foreplay in 4k . . . fuck a picture, i’m too freaky, you know me i shoot a movie . . .”

ও synopsis ; jensen wants to film you touching yourself…look at how focused he looks in that pic..yum…

“c’mon baby, you know you’ll look so good—and it’s just for me. what’s the problem?” jensen says walking over to you standing in your shared bedroom where you’re folding laundry. he’s been trying to get you to film a sex tape for him—and you wouldn’t have a problem if he’s was doing it with you. but no, he wants you to do it solo. while he films you, watching your every move, the thought alone sent shivers down your spine, and blood rushing to your heat cheeks, cheeks, you meant.

“i don’t know jens, i don’t think i can…” you started off. but you knew this protest wouldn’t last long, you always gave this man whatever he wanted. he started off with you, kissing you so passionately, his hands roaming your body, his large hand slipping into your little pink shorts. your hips instinctively bucked into him as he guided you back towards the bed knocking your fresh and perfectly folded clothes onto the floor.

his middle and pointer finger brushing against your clit before dipping into your already soaking pussy, and your head dipped into the pillows under you as you moaned loudly. jensen just smirked at you, he knew he would have his way one way or another, he wouldn’t stop until he did. his eyes flicker up to the nightstand beside your bed spotting his camcorder already set just waiting for him to click record. he looks back down at you, his hand slipping out of your shorts just to loop his fingers in the waistband and yank them off.

you gasp at the sudden movement—and even more because you know what’s coming, now there’s no way out of this. you watch as he reaches for the camera, his eyes never leaving your face. “you’re gonna look so perfect baby, stay just like that.” jensen says, slipping the camera into his hand as he brings it up to his face. he leans down to kiss you before placing a trail down your neck to your chest and you hear the camera beep. you have no words, your breathing picks up, your mind gets all fuzzy cause this is it—the moment you’ve been dreading.

“you’re already so wet for me baby girl, don’t pretend you’re not loving this just as much as i am.” he smirks, getting off the bed. he zooms in as he sinks down to his knees his hips pressing into the mattress. your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyes flutter close as you let your body relax for him. your hand glides over to your pussy and you waste no time getting to work on your clit. you let out a soft whine, your head tipping back squeezing your eyes shut because it’s easier if you pretend he isn’t there, if you just pretend you’re alone like you usually do, you say it’s only in your thoughts, there’s no camera. but jensen isn’t letting that slide.

“aht aht, baby..” he groans low, shifting against the bed, “eye contact, need you to look at me—and the camera okay?” you let out a deep sigh, lifting your head to meet his gaze locked on you. his face is so focused on you and the camera, his cheeks are flushed pink, brows furrowed, the sight of him causes your belly to twist in ways you never thought possible. you let out a shaky breath, “jensen, do i have to do this…?” you tried to protest again, but he didn’t let up, ‘you’re already halfway there’ he said, and he was already recording—and now he needs you to keep eye contact? was he trying to kill you?

he lets out a low grunt at the tiny image of you on his camcorder, all split for him, your little hand already working it’s magic, your pretty eyes trained on him—it’s enough to make him nut right there, matter fact, he could already feel the precum seeping through his pants as he rubs his hips into the bed. he knew this would be a good idea, he knew you weren’t as shy as you pretended to be, he knew you were a slut for him. “that’s it, you look so hot baby. say my name, tell the camera who you’re doing it for.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

thinking about a tied up james kelly 🤤

Author's note: that man whimpers 🔝

JAMES KELLY was wrecked. Absolutely, undeniably wrecked. Wrists strained against the silk ties binding them to the headboard, knuckles white as he clenched his fists in helplessness he had never felt. All his life he thought he was the one to keep things in control; in bed, in public life. But he did not thought about a possibility where you'd just straightforward hypnotize him, tying him up before he could even protest. Now his eyes were wide, as if frightened, looking at you as if you were his salvation..

You stood at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but a this twisted, proud of yourself smirk, savoring the vulnerable (for now) sight of him. His stormy eyes burned with frustration, flickering between your face and the soft curves of your body that he loved so much. Slowly, you climbed onto the bed, like a cat, straddling his thighs and running your fingers over his broad chest. His skin was hot under your touch, his muscles twitching.

“That mouth of yours, James,” you mused, dragging your nails down his torso until you reached the trail of hair leading to his cock. “Always running. Maybe I should’ve tied it shut too.”

He sighed a breath of turmoil inside of him, hips bucking up in a futile attempt to get some friction. “Untie me, baby,” he rasped in this begging tone. “Let me show you what this mouth can really do.”

You leaned in close, so your lips could graze over his ear. “Oh, no,” you whispered, grinding your wetness against his length, teasing him with every slow roll of your hips. “You’re not in charge here, James. I am.”

His breath hitched at the way you pronounced his name, a deep groan escaping him. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “You’re so hot right now”

“Goddamn it,” he groaned as if he was both frustrated and in pain “Stop fuckin’ teasing and take it, baby. You know you need it as bad as I do.”

You laughed softly, kissing along the line of his jaw before pulling back to look into his desperate, hungry eyes with a smirk painted across your face. Sliding back, you positioned yourself above him, letting his thick cock press against your folds yet in a way that won't give him the satisfaction of fully sinking in. His head fell back against the headboard, a string of curses falling from his lips.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider his demand, before shaking your head. “You don’t get to give orders tonight, James,” you said, dragging the slick head of his cock through your folds, making him shudder. “You’ll get what I decide to give you. When I decide to give it to you.”

“Fuck, baby,” voice breaking. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me feel you.”

You smirked, finally sinking down onto him, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt inside you. His head snapped forward, jaw clenching as he watched you take him, his cock stretching you so perfectly it had you moaning aloud.

“aghh--uhhhg” he hissed, arms pulling uselessly at the restraints till veins were visible under his skin. “You’re so damn tight. Feels like you’re trying to milk me dry already.”

You began to move, slow and deliberate, grinding your hips as his cock hit every spot that made you see stars. James was a mess beneath you, his breathing ragged, his head thrown back as he fought to keep himself from losing it.

“Look at you,” you run your hands over his chest. “Big, tough James Kelly, being a pathetic boy"

“Don’t get used to it,” he ground out, voice strained, face flushing red. “Soon as I’m free, I’m flipping you over and fucking you until you forget your own name.”

You smirked, picking up the pace, the sound of your slick arousal and his choked groans filling the room. “Big talk for a man tied up and helpless,” you teased, dragging your nails down his abs.

James glared up at you. “Untie me,” voice dropping an octave. “I dare you.”

You ignored him, rolling your hips faster, leaning back to give him a perfect view of your body. His eyes locked onto where his cock disappeared into you, breath catching, mouth opening to let another set of moans and whimpers.

“Fuck" he gasped, eyes not leaving the scene unfolding before him "..look at this greedy little cunt,” he bit out, voice a mix of awe and frustration. “Swallowing me whole..just takin' me so good, baby. Damn..”

You threw your head back, moaning as you chased your soon-to-come release, the sight of James tied up and at your mercy sending you hurtling towards the edge. He watched you, jaw slack, and suddenly, as if he came up with something smart - he bucked his hips up to meet your movements as best as he could, just to make you as desperate and helpless as he was

“That’s it,” he rasped in this gaspy way, lifting his hips faster “Come on, baby. Let me feel you come all over my cock..”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, body trembling as you came, clenching around him. James groaned loudly, his hips jerking as he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim with his release, the liquids mixing in your body.

As you came down from your high, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good boy,” you murmured, reaching up to untie his wrists.

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[amirawrah]

⭐︎ The Dad life

with IBRAHIMA KONATE

a/n: based on this ask. as i said i got carried away and made three and i hope you all like this also thank you to everyone who took some time to comment, reblog and like my fics, we may not really know each other but it means so much, love ya'll fr.

by: amirah⭐︎

first⭐︎

There’s a calm that settles over your home when the late afternoon sun filters in through the gauzy curtains—warm, golden, and slow. It's the kind of calm that only exists when the world outside feels far away and you’re wrapped up in your own private joy. The living room is scattered with tiny cups, mismatched plush toys, and the soft giggle of a toddler who’s clearly orchestrating something elaborate.

Samirah, your two-and-a-half-year-old, stands with her hands on her hips like a tiny general in a tutu. “Baba, you sit. You wear this,” she says sternly, holding up the pink tulle skirt in one hand and a sparkly crown in the other. Her curls are a halo around her face, her tiny feet padded in socks with stars on them. You stifle a laugh from the kitchen where you're half-cleaning, half-eavesdropping.

Ibou’s deep laugh echoes from the carpet where he’s already on the floor, long limbs folded and patience infinite. “Are you sure Baba can fit in that tutu?” he asks with playful skepticism, eyeing the elastic waistband like it might bite him.

Samirah nods with conviction. “You’re big but not too big. Try pleaseeee.”

He throws a glance at you—dramatic and desperate. “Help me.”

You shrug from behind the counter, biting into a strawberry. “Sorry. She’s in charge.”

With the most exaggerated sigh in human history, he bends and carefully steps into the pink fabric, pulling it up over his shorts until it sits just above his knees. It’s hilariously stretched. But it holds.

Samirah claps like he’s just performed magic. “Yay! Now crown!”

She places the glittery plastic tiara atop his hair, smoothing his hair back with the focus of a seasoned stylist. Ibou sits perfectly still, letting her adjust and re-adjust until she’s satisfied.

“You look beautiful,” she declares with a wide smile. “Now we do tea.”

Ibou straightens up, fixes his posture and nods. “Of course. Tea.”

You slide closer to the doorway with your phone discreetly raised. The sight before you is nothing short of legendary—your 6'4 husband in a tutu and tiara, legs crossed at the ankle, holding a tiny pastel teacup. He even lifts his pinky.

“To Queen Samirah,” he says solemnly, raising his cup.

“To Queen Samirah,” you echo, barely holding your laughter.

Samirah grins and pours imaginary tea into each cup with impressive seriousness. “Baba, do you want strawberry tea or mango?”

“Mango, please,” he replies without missing a beat. “Two sugars.”

She carefully stirs the air inside the cup before handing it to him. “Hot. Blow it.”

Ibou blows delicately over the empty cup, then takes a pretend sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious. Did you make this yourself?”

“Yes,” she says proudly. “I’m the chef.”

He places a hand to his chest. “You are amazing, chef and queen.”

You melt a little as you watch them. You’ve seen him do incredible things on the pitch—solid tackles, impossible headers, calm leadership under pressure—but this? This is the version of him that knocks the wind out of your chest. The version that wakes up early to braid your daughter’s hair when you’re too tired, that picks her up from daycare and still gets down on the ground like a kid. The version of Ibou who is a father, through and through, and thrives in the smallest, softest roles.

Samirah holds a plastic cookie up to his mouth. “Eat.”

He obliges with a dramatic chomp, eyes going wide. “Whoa! That’s the best cookie I’ve ever had!”

She giggles uncontrollably. “You’re silly baba!”

“No, you are,” he counters, leaning over to tickle her sides until she collapses in laughter, the tea party momentarily forgotten. He glances up at you from the floor, his eyes soft, warm, full of that same quiet joy you feel swelling in your chest.

You walk over and settle on the couch behind them, running your fingers through his curls. “You two make a good team.”

“We make a good family,” he corrects gently, his gaze flicking toward you like a vow.

Samirah crawls into his lap, unbothered by her teacups and teapots now. She yawns in that sudden way toddlers do, energy crashing all at once. Ibou lifts her effortlessly, tucking her into the crook of his arm like she’s made to rest there.

“She’s tired,” he murmurs.

You nod. “I’ll take her up—”

“No,” he says softly. “Let me.”

You watch him rise, all strength and gentleness, still wearing the tutu. The tiara falls slightly askew, and you fix it on his head without saying anything. His smile curves slow and fond as he carries your daughter upstairs to her room, whispering a made-up bedtime story along the way about a princess named Samirah and her favorite tutu-wearing dragon.

When he returns a few minutes later, tiara in hand, the tutu abandoned somewhere on the stairs, he sinks onto the couch beside you with a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder.

“You’re so gone for her,” you whisper, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

He hums, eyes closed, smile stretching wide. “She owns me. Completely.”

You snuggle into him, the two of you wrapped up in this sleepy, joyful quiet. The house still holds echoes of giggles and tea party chatter. The scent of dinner lingers in the air, and outside, the sky darkens into hues of navy and lavender.

“She got your heart,” you murmur.

“And you have the rest ma reine,” he answers without hesitation, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close until your nose is buried against his hoodie. my queen

There’s no fancy dinner. No grand romantic gesture tonight. Just quiet, soft, familiar love. Just the memory of your daughter’s joy. Just your man in a tutu. Just your family—warm and whole.

And in the middle of all of it, you realise: this is the best version of your love story yet.

second⭐︎ this is based on the early parts of parenthood.

The house was still. Not silent, not quite. Somewhere, the boiler hummed low like it always did, and the soft rustle of leaves brushed the windowpanes in the early London breeze. But in your bedroom—warm and dim with the moon casting light against the curtains—it felt like the world had finally quieted. Samirah had gone down at 9:17, not 9:00 like the books said she should, and not screaming her lungs out either, which you both counted as a win.

You lay on your side, arm under your pillow, hair still slightly damp from the quickest shower of your life. The baby monitor sat on the nightstand, its green light soft and steady, casting a faint glow beside the scented candle you never had the time to light anymore. And next to you, Ibou—bare chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm, one arm lazily thrown over your hip even in sleep.

He’d set three alarms that evening. One at midnight, one at three, and one at five, just in case. You told him he didn’t have to, that you’d wake up anyway the second Samirah so much as stirred, but he insisted. “I want to be part of this,” he had said, brushing your hair from your forehead with his warm fingers.

You didn’t expect the first whimper at 11:34 p.m.

Your eyes flew open before your body had even processed it, trained now by weeks of interrupted sleep. You groaned softly, but before you could even throw back the duvet, you felt the bed shift. Ibou was already up, bare feet quiet on the floorboards, shirtless in the low light. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured, voice deep and gravelly with sleep, a hand gently pressing your shoulder down. “I got this.”

You blinked. “The alarm—”

“It’s not midnight, I know,” he mumbled, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants he must’ve left by the side of the bed. “But she needs her Baba. And you need your rest. Just sleep, okay?” His lips brushed your temple, warm and soft, and then he was gone—down the hall before you could protest.

You smiled into the pillow, that aching, tender kind of smile that happens only when someone loves you deeply and shows it in the smallest, most consistent ways.

Through the baby monitor, you heard the soft hush of his voice. “Hey, my star, it’s okay, it’s baba,” he whispered, in the kind of tone only meant for your daughter. The rustling of the crib. The creak of the rocking chair. A sleepy lullaby hummed with a slight accent, slow and gentle, as she gurgled, settled, and melted right into his arms.

You don’t know when you fell asleep again, only that the next time you stirred, Ibou was crawling back into bed, arms sliding around you. His body radiated heat, and he smelled faintly of Samirah’s baby lotion. “She's good?” you whispered, half asleep, nose nuzzling into his throat.

“She’s perfect,” he mumbled. “Just like her mama.”

The next night, you were the one who got up first. It was 2:17 a.m., and the cries were soft but insistent. You reached for your robe—but he stirred beside you, eyes barely open.

“I got it,” he murmured, voice like gravel and honey, stretching.

“You sure?”

He was already halfway out of bed. “Always,” he said, not even waiting for the monitor to confirm. “She needs her baba.”

You followed him down the hall this time. He was too focused, too sleepy, too gentle as he picked her up and rocked her in slow, quiet motions.

“I think she’s teething,” he said softly.

“She probably is.”

“She bit me a little.” He grinned at you.

“Welcome to fatherhood.”

He chuckled, forehead pressed to hers, whispering, “No biting, ya habibti. That’s only allowed when you’re older and I’ve had a talk with whoever you’re dating.”

“She’s three months.”

“I’m preparing.”

You laughed quietly as he handed her to you, and she immediately nestled into your chest, soothed now. “Come back to bed,” he said, wrapping his arms around both of you. “We’ll sleep when she lets us.”

You all curled into the bed together, Ibou snoring before you even finished settling. Samirah let out one last sigh and went limp against your chest, and for a moment, everything was perfect again.

Because love, in its truest form, looked exactly like this—sleepless nights, warm baby breath, soft kisses at midnight, and a man who set alarms to help but never needed them.

He was already halfway there. Every time.

third ....and last ⭐︎

The sun had only just risen when the three of you stepped onto the tarmac, the gentle heat of the Mediterranean already warming your skin. Your first family holiday. You and Ibou had planned it on a whim—after months of adjusting to parenthood, sleepless nights, night feedings, and bouncing between your schedules, a beach escape felt like the balm your little family needed.

Ibou insisted on carrying everything. And when you say everything, you mean everything.

"You sure you got all that?" you asked, watching him with an amused smile as he adjusted the strap of the baby bag on one shoulder, slung your oversized beach tote on the other, held Samirah’s flamingo floatie under one arm, balanced a milk bottle in his fingers, and—somehow—still cradled your daughter effortlessly against his chest.

She blinked sleepily in her sunhat, her little hand clutching his chain.

He grinned back at you over his shoulder, "I’ve got it. You just enjoy the view."

And you did. Every bit of it.

The hotel was dreamy—white walls, billowing curtains, private access to the beach. Samirah squealed the moment she saw the pool, her fat legs kicking in excitement from her carrier.

"We are not going in there yet," you laughed, lifting her out. "At least eat first."

Ibou leaned over your shoulder, brushing a kiss to your temple. "We’ll take turns. You relax first."

That first day blurred into golden sun and salty air. Ibou built Samirah a little shade tent out of towels and her sun canopy. You watched him carefully adjust it, making sure no rays would touch her soft skin, his brow furrowed like it was the most important thing in the world.

You snapped a photo of him mid-build. “Engineer daddy,” you teased.

"I take this very serious"

You fed Samirah on a lounge chair while Ibou lay beside you, sunglasses on, one hand resting on your thigh. Even in moments of rest, he never let go of you. Not really.

That night, after a long shower and Samirah’s bedtime routine, the villa grew still.

The baby monitor on the bedside table glowed quietly. Samirah was out cold, swaddled in her soft blanket, the ocean waves beyond the window a natural lullaby.

You stood by the mirror, rubbing lotion into your skin, your silk robe barely tied at your waist. The moonlight flooded in, making your skin glow, and you didn’t even hear your husband walk in until his arms wrapped around your waist from behind lips grazing your neck.

You leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut. "She’s asleep. For real this time."

He hummed low, like that information lit something in him. "I have you to myself."

He turned you gently, kissing you slow and deep, hands roaming your sides like he was relearning the shape of you. Parenthood had been beautiful, but hard. You hadn’t had many moments like this—just the two of you, in silence, in love.

You led him to the bed, silk robe slipping off your shoulders as he kissed down your collarbone.

It was soft. Intentional. The kind of intimacy born from knowing every side of someone—watching them fall asleep with the baby curled between you, hearing their voice crack at the sound of her first laugh.

"I missed this," he murmured, forehead pressed to yours.

The night stretched slow and sweet. No rush. Just hands tangled, breath shared, his voice saying your name.

The next morning, you woke to Samirah babbling softly in her crib beside the bed. Ibou was already sitting up, shirtless, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

He turned to you with a lazy grin. "Morning, wife."

You smiled back, voice still thick with sleep. "Morning, husband."

He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then stood and padded over to scoop Samirah up.

"Did you sleep well, my princess?" he asked her, cradling her in his big arms.

She gurgled in response, reaching for his nose.

You watched them, heart full to the brim.

This was your little heaven on earth.

And it had everything to do with the way he carried three bags, a floatie, a bottle, and the baby—without ever complaining—just so you could walk behind him, smiling like your life was perfect.

Because, in that moment, it was.

[bright-side20]

A little scene inspired by one of my headcanons 🫶

The dining hall brimmed with Valahan’s opulence, golden chandeliers, silver platters piled high with delicacies, and a soft symphony humming in the background. Frosted windows lined the walls, framing the snow dusted landscape beyond, a reminder of the biting cold outside.

Azriel had no business being at this dinner, not really. His role was simple: ensure Elain’s safety while she worked her magic among Valahan’s royal family. Keep her in sight. Keep her safe. Keep his distance.

But keeping his distance was becoming a losing battle.

His shadows swirled at the edge of his vision as he watched the prince lean closer to Elain with a dazzling smile . The prince’s gaze drifted to her far too often, trailing over the tailored folds of her gown. The dress, a Valahan piece chosen to reflect their culture,was a masterpiece of icy blue and silver embroidery, clinging to her form and shimmering under the hall’s golden light.

He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t let his attention on the way her delicate hand rested on the edge of the table, just out of reach of the prince’s.

Azriel’s jaw tightened as the prince laughed at something Elain said. He hated how the bastard’s smile seemed wider every time she spoke, hated the way his gaze drifted to her lips as if he had any right to look at her that way.

“You wear our style beautifully,” the prince said, his blue eyes sweeping over her. “The dress suits you perfectly.”

Elain dipped her head, her smile polite. “Thank you, Your Highness. The dress is exquisite.”

The prince inclined his head as though she’d complimented him, his blue eyes gleaming.

“Elain,” he said after a moment, tilting his head toward her, “have you had the chance to see the palace gardens yet? They’re spectacular, truly".

Elain smiled. “Not yet, but I’ve heard they’re beautiful.”

“They are,” the prince replied. “They’re enclosed beneath a great glass dome to shield them from the snow and ice. The gardens remain lush and green all year round. Perhaps after dinner, I could give you a private tour? They’re magical under the moon.”

Azriel’s grip on his glass tightened, his shadows stilling as tension coiled in his chest.

“That’s very kind of you,” Elain said, her voice light, measured.

“I would be honored,” the prince pressed, his smile widening as he reached out, his hand hovering just shy of hers.

“Her safety isn’t up for negotiation,” Azriel said, his voice cutting through the room.

The table fell silent, every head turning toward him. He didn’t care.

Elain turned her head , glaring at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring down the prince.

The prince blinked, his smile faltering for a moment before he recovered.

“Surely, Shadowsinger, there is no safer place than my palace. Or is it that you doubt my intentions?”

Azriel didn’t flinch. His shadows swirled around his shoulders like snakes ready to strike. “It’s not your intentions I’m worried about.”

The prince’s lips quirked in an almost smile as he smoothed his blond hair with his hand, but there was no humor in his voice, “How fortunate she has such a devoted guardian,” he said.

Elain exhaled softly, her expression composed as she glanced toward Azriel, her foot nudging his under the table. The touch was light. A silent reminder of the purpose of being here.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to her. Her foot didn’t move. Neither did his.

She placed her hands in her lap and leaned forward slightly. “Your Highness,” she said softly, her voice like a balm, “I deeply appreciate your generosity. But perhaps it would be so kind as to arrange a daytime tour tomorrow. After all, I wouldn’t want to miss the gardens’ beauty in full sunlight.”

The prince inclined his head. “As you wish.”

Azriel kept his eyes on his plate, his jaw tight, his mind a mess of thoughts. It was jealousy, pure and simple,eating away at his control. So he said nothing. Pretended not to notice the pressure of her foot against his. Pretended he was only doing his job. He was good at pretending after all.

....

After everyone slept Azriel headed towards Elain’s room, the corridor stretched before him, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every step. He shouldn’t have spoken out at dinner. He knew it. Every logical part of him screamed at how reckless, how stupid it had been to risk the treaty over a petty reaction.

She wasn’t his.

But gods, he wanted her to be.

And he hated himself for it. Hated the jealousy that coiled hot in his gut. Because she wasn’t his, and yet he couldn’t stop imagining it,her smile, her touch, her love, all meant for him.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to still. He had to apologize, smooth this over . Gathering what remained of his composure, he knocked lightly on her door.

“Come in,” came her soft voice from within, as if she knew he would come.

Azriel stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Elain stood by the window, bathed in moonlight, her arms crossed over her chest. She was now wearing her pink gown, and he let himself drink in the sight of her before closing his eyes for a moment, inhaling her jasmine and honey scent that wrapped around him.

“We need to talk,” he said finally, stepping further into the room.

She turned to face him fully. “You jeopardized the treaty,” she said, her voice firm. “Do you realize that? If the king and queen had been at dinner, your outburst could have unraveled everything.”

“I was doing my job,” Azriel replied, his tone colder than he intended. “Protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” she repeated, shaking her head. “The prince was being polite. Nothing more.”

His jaw tightened. Polite. The word grated on him. “Polite?” His voice was sharp. “Inviting you to a private, moonlit tour isn’t polite, Elain. It’s...” He stopped himself.

“It’s what?” she pressed.

He tried to maintain his composure. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you,” he said, his voice low.

Elain blinked. “And how did he look at me? Like he wanted to court me? Like he thought I was beautiful? Is that so terrible?"

Yes. Yes, it is. But He shoved the words down. He stared at her, trying to find the right response, something logical. But he couldn’t.

Because as much as he wanted to deny it, to convince himself it was about duty and nothing else, the truth shone too brightly, it wasn’t about her safety. It was about her.

His eyes locked onto hers, and he hated how easily she seemed to see through him.

“The prince wasn’t a threat. He didn’t deserve that reaction from you.” she continued.

Maybe a prince is what she deserves. Someone whole, untainted. He should apologize, he reminded himself. He nodded, “You’re right." "I apologize ".

“Then why did you react that way?” she asked, stepping closer, her voice almost a whisper now,her big brown eyes scanning his face .

She stood there, her cheeks flushed, her gaze locked on his, and he wanted to break. To close the remaining space between them and tell her everything he’d been holding back.

The thought slammed into him, and he had to lock his knees to keep from taking a step closer. His gaze flicked to her lips before he could stop himself. Some dark, possessive part of him wanted her to understand. Wanted to make her see that she wasn’t meant for anyone else,not the prince, not her mate not anyone's.

Some part of him wanted to punish her for making him feel this way...wanted to thread his fingers into her hair ,pull her close and kiss her until she understood. Until she felt the hunger that consumed him whenever she was near.

Elain’s breath hitched, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, the lovely pink flush spreading down her neck and over her chest.

But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Because if he did if he gave in, even for a second...there’d be no turning back.

“As I said, I was doing my job,” He finally answered.

Her eyes broke away from his for a moment, then looked back at him. “I don’t need you to protect me, I can handle myself.” “You’re the spymaster,” she said. “I expect you to know more about diplomacy than I do.”

He nodded once, sharply. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” she said, though her tone lacked satisfaction. “The prince has arranged for the tour. During the day tomorrow, like I suggested.”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles whitening, but this time it was his turn to say, “Good.”

She turned her back to him, her voice quieter. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, taking a deep breath as he turned and walked toward the door, shutting it quietly behind him. He rested against the wood for a second, his eyes closing as he tried to shake off the rush of emotions. But, as usual, he pushed it down and stepped into the shadows...

[austinbutlerslovers]

Another Load

Label Mature 18+

Summary Seeing Hank doing a domesticated task of washing the laundry makes you eagerly give him a reward, but unable to keep his hands to himself as promised, he gives you two more loads instead.  ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Edging•dirty talk• BJ• cum eating •Rough P in V• pinning •clit play•orgasms•creampie 🔗Master List

Inspo that top right pic w his hands up 🤤 dedicated to @aust-een @umika @austinbutlerfly @feralgodmothers

-Tysm the way I delayed posting it bc it’s so 🦋

Another Load

Hank pushes the apartment door open, the burgundy laundry bag slung over one broad shoulder. The fabric is stretched to capacity, filled with neatly folded clothing, and he sets it down by the door with a quiet grunt.

He’s wearing his long-sleeved orange shirt, rolled up just past his forearms, revealing the veins on his hands as they flex against the strain of the load. His cargo pants are low on his hips, pockets weighed down as if he’s carried half the world in them.

You glance up from the couch, where you’ve been pretending not to wait for him, and can’t help but smile. He’s out of breath from hauling the bag from the laundromat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. There’s something about him in this moment—his ruggedness on full display, entirely and unmistakably Hank.

The simple task of doing laundry only amplifies his appeal, the sight of him, momentarily tamed by something so domestic, makes him look even hotter.

“You actually folded it all?” you ask, rising from your spot, a surprised tone in your voice.

He smirks, shrugging one shoulder. “Didn’t want to get yelled at for stuffing it in the bag like last time.”

His tone is light, but the way his eyes hold yours is anything but. There’s a warmth in his gaze, something deeper that lingers, and it pulls you in like it always does.

Kneeling by the bag, you loosen the drawstring and pull out a sweater you’d been worried about. Relief washes over you as you realize the fabric didn’t shrink and it’s perfectly intact. “You didn’t put this in the dryer?” you ask glancing up at him.

“I listen,” he replies simply leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. There’s an ease to his posture, but his gaze is sharp, lingering on you in a way that feels anything but casual.

You rise, placing the sweater on the bag as you approach him. “Maybe you deserve a reward,” you say, your voice soft but laced with playful intent.

His brow arches, a smirk tugging at his lips. “A reward? For doing laundry?”

“For doing it right,” you compliment stepping closer. Your fingers brushing the hem of his shirt, making his breath hitch just slightly. “But there’s a catch.”

“Of course there is,” he mutters, with a teasing grin.

You smile, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “If you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll make it worth your while.” You say letting your fingers trace a slow line down his chest. “Think you can manage that Hank?” you ask, your tone teasing.

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. “Maybe,” he replies, as he lifts his arms, his waistline peeking out from beneath his shirt. The faintest glimpse of his toned waist draws your attention as he interlocks his fingers behind his head.

Hank has never been able to keep his hands to himself when you’re intimate, and the way his gaze darkens as you move closer tells you this time will be no different.

With a grin you take in the sight of him, arms raised above his head, fingers gripping the back of his neck.

You reach up and gently adjust his arms, ensuring his hands stay firmly clasped behind his neck.

You let your fingers trail over his forearms, tracing the veins that stand out under his skin, then over his firm biceps testing his resolve

“Stay just like this…” you whisper, your finger tips trailing down his orange shirt to the waist band of his cargos.

His chest rises and falls with anticipation, his sandy blonde hair falling forward as he looks down at you, framing his face just right.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you trail your hands down his thighs, fingers grazing over the fabric of his cargos, barely concealing his hard cock.

He pushes his hips forward as he smirks and you tsk at him already breaking the rule you set.

“What did I say about moving?” You ask and he grins barely containing himself as he answers “You told me to stay just like this” emphasizing the last word with a cocky tilt of his hips toward your face.

“Hank be good” you warn, looking up at him with a grin “Or you won’t get to enjoy your reward,” you add, running your finger down the length of his cock through the fabric of his cargos.

He flinches, but keeps his fingers interlaced, his jaw tightening as he fights the urge to move. “You’re so cruel,” he says with a grin, though there’s no real complaint in his tone.

You can feel the tension in his heavy cock as you begin to edge him, your palm pressing and rubbing his shaft slowly without giving him more. He’s straining almost painfully, his cock hard like a brick as he watches your every move, with dark hungry eyes.

“You’re doing so well, Hank,” you praise, your fingers rubbing the tip with deliberate slowness. “I didn’t think you could last this long.” you admit, your voice soft and teasing.

He lets out a shaky breath as you reach up to his waist, finally lowering his zipper.

You slide his cargos and boxers down together, the fabric gliding over his hips as his heavy cock sways free. His powerful thighs flex as he shifts his weight, stepping out of the clothing at his feet, leaving his lower half completely exposed before you.

Your eyes take in the sheer size of his cock as he steadies himself. His shaft is thick and long, flushed a deep shade of pink, as the veins pulse leading to the perfectly rounded tip.

His breath catches as you hover your lips above his cock, and instead of giving him what he wants, you wrap your hand around the shaft instead, slowly pulling your fist in firm teasing strokes enjoying the way his hips slightly jerk in response.

You lower your head and flick your tongue lightly against his tip, the delicate touch drawing a sharp intake of breath from him as you continue to edge him even more.

The way he groans, his head tipping back as he fights to keep his hands clasped behind his head is deeply satisfying, and you can’t help but smile as you savor the effect you have on him.

“Impatient already?” you ask, your voice soft and teasing, watching his eyes darken as he stares down at you, barely able to retrain himself.

“You —want me to lose control, don’t you?” he pants his tone thick with need.

You grin as your thumb swipes the forming bead of precum at the slit, smearing it in a slow circle that bring him right to the edge.

A deep, guttural groan escapes him, as he struggles, his breaths quick and uneven betraying just how tightly he’s holding back.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you whisper, your tone dangerously taunting. “I’ll give you everything you want ….when I’m ready.”

You give him a daring look as you let your tongue flick over the tip again, savoring the salty taste as he groans. His hips jerk as he fights to keep control, every muscle in his body wound tight.

Then, with agonizing slowness, you finally let him slide into your mouth, inch by inch. The low, guttural sound he makes is one of pure surrender and as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, his breath hitches sharply as he fights every instinct not to thrust.

But then, in an instant, all his control shatters.

His hands drop from behind his neck immediately tangling in your hair as he forces your eager mouth back and forth on his cock.

“You teased me too long, baby,” he rasps, his voice low and rough. “You wanted to play, didn’t you? Now you’re gonna take it—just like this.”

He tightens his grip in your hair as he thrusts in your mouth, the sudden force making you moan on his cock, the sound vibrating against his length, drawing a deep, shuddering groan from his lips.

“Don’t stop. Take all of it—show me you can handle what you’ve been teasing me with,” he instructs, his breathing growing heavier, his voice rough and commanding.

You whimper around him, the sound vibrating against his cock as you revel in the fact that he’s like this because of you. The wet, lewd squishing sounds fill the room with every thrust as your lips glide on his length, your saliva making each stroke slick and effortless as he gazes down at you.

“Taking this cock so good. You know how much I love that mouth, don’t you?” He praises his voice rough and breathless.

You moan from his words your tongue flicking along his shaft as your cheeks hollow making it impossible for him to hold back.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he grunts, his words spilling out between ragged breaths. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last. You feel too good, baby.”

The tension in his body builds as hips stutter, his head tilting back for a moment before his eyes return to you, dark and wild. “Don’t stop,” he groans, his voice breaking as he watches you “Take everything I give you.”

He comes hard in the back of your throat, his release hot and thick holding your head against him making you take every drop.

You moan reveling in the way he loses himself, sloppily thrusting into your mouth until he shudders and pulls out.

But he’s still hard, holding the base of his cock as he tosses throw pillows off the couch.

He pushes you back to lay down on it as he pulls his long-sleeve orange shirt up and over his head with one hand, tossing it aside carelessly.

The muscles of his chest and abs are on full display now, his skin flushed from exertion. His eyes rake over your body as you settle beneath him, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly promise as he effortlessly tugs your panties off, tossing them aside.

He kneels between your legs, gripping himself at the base as he slides the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick entrance separating your inner lips just enough to feel the size of him.

“I’ve got one more for you,” he says, slowly inserting the head of his cock into you, stretching your outer lips and pushing into you inch by inch, until he’s as deep as you can take.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he praises, his voice rough and strained as you moan softly, beneath him.

He waits a moment savoring the way your body clenches around him, then he slowly withdraws, letting you feel the drag of every inch leaving your body. He stops just at the tip, making you ache for more, before thrusting back inside, deep and firm, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Fuck,” he curses, his jaw tightening as he watches your body take his cock. “You love this, don’t you? The way I fill you up making you take every inch?”

“Y-yes” you moan your voice trembling with desperation and he pulls out even slower this time, the length of his shaft glistening as it’s revealed inch by inch. “Look at it,” he taunts, his gaze flicking between you and his cock. “You’re soaked, baby, dripping all over me. You want me to give it to you harder, don’t you?”

Before you can answer, he plunges back in, the sudden force drawing a cry from your lips as he picks up the pace. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist to slow him down, but he smirks and easily pushes them aside, pinning them down with his hands as he drives into you harder, deeper.

“Nice try baby,” he breathes, his voice ragged as the couch creaks beneath you with each thrust. “You’re not gonna take me slow—Not when I know you love it just like this—hard and fast. You want me to ruin you, don’t you? Say it. Let me hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you moan, your voice trembling as your nails dig into his shoulders. “I love it—Hank—Please, don’t stop!”

The words spill out in a desperate rush, your body arching beneath him as the ecstasy consumes you.

He watches you intensely, knowing you’re well beyond your limits as moans spill uncontrollably from your lips with every thrust.

“Such a good girl taking me like this “ he says with an eager tone his rhythm growing relentless, his hips slamming against your body jolting you with every powerful thrust. You begin to make soft, desperate cries beneath him, completely overwhelmed.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, his voice strained with hunger. “Take it. Take every last inch. I’m not stopping until you can’t even think straight.”

He thrusts evenly, his cock head hitting your g-spot with perfect precision every time and his hand quickly slides between your legs. His thumb presses firmly against your clit, massaging it in time with his thrusts until the rhythm is maddening, every stroke driving you higher as the tension coils tighter inside you.

Then he pinches your clit between his fingers, sending a white-hot surge of pleasure shooting through you. Your body trembles, and his name spills from your lips in a breathless, desperate cry.

Your orgasm hits you hard, your body writhing beneath him as you come, your voice broken and trembling with bliss. He watches you, his eyes dark and fixed on your every move, his pace relentless as he rides you through the overwhelming ecstasy.

“F-fuck—just like that,” he groans, his voice rough and desperate, his thrusts growing sloppier as your walls flutter against him. “You feel so good, baby—so fucking perfect, squeezing me like this.” He praises.

His breaths quicken and his movements become erratic as he chases his own release.

“Gonna come baby,” he pants, his tone low and possessive. “Gonna give you every last drop. You want it, don’t you? Tell me you want it.”

“Y-yes,” you cry out, your voice trembling, and a guttural moan spills from his lips as his body tenses. You feel him push his deepest inside you, his cock pulsing as he loses himself completely.

“Take it all,” he groans, his voice rough and unrestrained. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he says as he comes and his hips press flush against you. His cock is throbbing with each powerful surge of release, his hands holding you firmly in place as he empties every last drop.

“You take me so fucking good,” he says softly his breaths spilling from exertion as he waits until the high the subsides.

You both remain in position on the couch as you catch your breaths, the room now warmer, filled with the scent of fresh detergent.

“Guess I’ll be doing the laundry more often,” he grins, his tone teasing as he affectionately strokes your jaw. “Didn’t think folding clothes could get me this kind of reward.” he admits.

You smile, your cheeks still flushed. “You should see what I’ll do if you iron for me” you say playfully.

He grins wickedly, his thumb brushing your neck as he murmurs, “Baby, I will press starch your clothing if it gets me this again.”

🧢 END 🧢

🔗 Master List

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @umika @aust-een @feralgodmothers @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @psycheetamore @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @megangovier @ifuckindontknow @jjubilee-fluff

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of March. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Coursing Through My Veins | Not Rated | 1,549 words

Louis had a goal, he was so close, so very close to achieving it but somehow he'd fail miserably every single time. But this time, he wasn't failing, he wouldn't allow it. This time, he would call a professional to do the dirty work. Harry Styles was the man for the job at hand. Tall, charming, cold and reserved but one of the most notorious hitman in New York City. But what would happen if upon meeting the man who was supposed to kill him, Louis feels this impossible pull towards him. Would Louis still feel those urges? Would he let Harry in? in the process having to break free from this self-destructive loop. And would Harry still proceed with the plan? despite falling for the empty blue ocean blue eyes with no will to live.

2) Smells Like Heaven, Feels Like Luxury | General Audiences | 1,738 words

And that’s when Harry froze. So did Louis. The nest was obvious—there was no way to pretend it was anything else. Piles of soft fabric arranged just so, the careful layering of scents, the sheer amount of Harry’s clothes mixed in with Louis’s own. The way it had been perfectly nestled in the corner of the room, near the balcony door where he could smoke from the comfort of his delicately crafted nest. He was aware that Harry wasn’t dumb- Harry most definitely knew he was looking at a nest, and one that smelt of him too. Oh, Louis is so fucked.

3) Looking After Lou | Not Rated | 2,035 words

Louis is tired and sore, so Harry runs him a nice hot bath, hoping that it’ll soothe Louis’s aching bones as he’s carrying their child.

4) Surprisingly Hairy: A Cautionary Tale in Five Unfortunate Flashbacks | Explicit | 3,469 words

Harry and Louis have been together for years. They’re also completely incapable of keeping it in their pants. Over the years, every member of One Direction has accidentally walked in on something they can never unsee—and today, Niall’s about to become the final casualty. What starts with a green room incident ends in group-wide trauma, five flashbacks, and the sudden revelation that one of them might be surprisingly hairy.

5) Delta-8 Eclairs And French Homework | Explicit| 3,494 words

“Take those off, I want to try something.” He tells him. Louis moves a bit to take his bottoms off. He wasn’t sure if he wanted him completely naked but the high is setting in and he feels too good. Harry walked off to the kitchen. When he came back, the sight he walked in on nearly sent him to see God. Spread out, wet and needy, lay his beautiful boyfriend. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted slightly. He has one hand on his cunt dragging a slow middle finger through the folds and over the slick-dripping- pink hole. He drags his finger up and over the tip of his swollen and twitchy clit. He slowly rubs a circle over the tip and pulls away. Harry practically drools when he sees the shiny string of his crystal clear arousal fall from his finger. His other hand is sliding up and down his body causing goosebumps to litter his skin and his nipples to poke out as they get harder. “Ohhh fuck…baby boy your gonna kill me.”

6) Taste On Your Tongue | Explicit | 5,346 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users. 

“You didn’t get a taste when you walked in,” Louis said, seductively and reached out his hand to the guy. His green eyes stared at the hand in front of him, while the other nine guys gasped. That taste was one everyone wanted and the new one would get to have it. Or the one where Louis works in a club where forks comes to taste cakes and Harry gets to taste him.

7) His Attention - Larry Version | Explicit | 5,411 words

Note: This fic has TL mentions. Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

His buttons are loosened and it’s a really hot night. Harry turns his radio off and swipes his sweating forehead with a shaky hand. Harry works in a rough neighborhood that is common for sex workers and night clubs. Tonight the streets are busy with people making out and even giving blowjobs in the park, but Harry’s siren is off because he’s off duty. He really couldn’t care less about the crazy happenings right now. It’s not until he sees him, walking out of a club joint in hand, hanging on the waist of yet another bloke that Harry begins to fume. He may not be working, but he’s not going to let Louis get away with this.

8) Cops and Robbers | Mature | 7,684 words

Harry just got a promotion. His co-workers take home out drinking to celebrate, and bring the party to their lake house, not wanting the night to end. When they decide to order some strippers, Harry finds himself attracted to the sexy cop. The stripper notices Harry’s curiosity, and invites him to meet him in the bathroom. Will Harry allow Louis to help him tap into a part of himself that he didn’t know existed? Is Louis expecting anything in return?

9) The Devil in Disguise | Explicit | 8,276 words

There he was again. Their eyes met. Harry stiffened, mid-sip, as he caught the gaze lingering on him. A slow, sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The man in the navy mask wasn’t just looking at him—he was studying him, analyzing him, the way you do when something doesn’t quite make sense.

10) Look At Me | Explicit | 9,331 words

But Harry only laughed. A low, easy chuckle that made her toes curl. “I’m not creeped out by it, Lou. I really don’t mind at all.” Her mind instantly flashed back to the look in his eyes when he’d walked in. The way he had stared. The heat in his gaze. The way the sight of him watching had only made her orgasm more intense. Testing the waters, she feigned nonchalance, casually leaning against the kitchen table. “So… if it happened again, you wouldn’t mind?” Or, the one where Louis is in love with her roommate, Harry, but he’s gay. But when Harry walks in on her touching herself, she can’t help but get off on the idea of him watching her. Little does she know Harry might be not as gay as she thought.

11) The Scent of Destiny | Not Rated | 16,834 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users. 

At the age of 23, Louis is suddenly presented as an Omega 10 years too late. He has no idea why, but the doctor tells him that it can happen because of intimacy with an Alpha. He doesn't hear the rest of the explanation because he's furious. He just shared a stupid drunken kiss with his bandmate Harry. This is all his fault!

12) Zero Days | Explicit | 36,343 words

“We should have a counter,” Harry joked as he got up. “We can write it on the fridge. It’s zero days for me.” Harry took a pen, writing it on a whiteboard he had fastened on the fridge. “It’s zero here too,” Louis said, while he filled the kettle. Harry turned to look at him. “Just because you don’t feel it against your ass in the morning, doesn’t mean I don’t have it.” Or, Louis gets thrown out, Harry offers him a place, and Zayn is not happy…

13) He’s The Alpha | Explicit | 37,490 words

She’s the Man AU where Louis is an omega who pretends to be his alpha brother to prove omegas belong on the soccer field just as much as anyone else but his hot alpha roommate threatens to compromise everything.

14) Unravelled, Unbroken | Explicit | 48,677 words

Five years ago, Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles shattered expectations, defied the odds, and proved that a fated mate bond didn’t have to define them—it could be theirs to shape. Now, with their bond stronger than ever and a future they built together, life should be simple. But nothing about being bonded, in love, and in the public eye has ever been simple. When a scandal threatens everything they’ve worked for, Louis and Harry are forced to navigate a world that still doesn’t know how to handle an Omega who won’t back down and an Alpha who refuses to play by the rules. With their relationship under scrutiny and their future on uncertain ground, they must decide—how far will they go to protect what they’ve built? But just as the world tries to break them apart, fate delivers an unexpected twist—one that changes everything. A story of loyalty, defiance, and the undeniable pull of fate.

15) These Healing Hands of Mine | Explicit | 59,269 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has a unique talent. He can heal people's injuries. But it comes with a price. He takes on the pain that the person he is healing is feeling. Most don't realise that though. Because of his gift Louis feels obligated to help as many people as he can often disregarding his own pain. The only person he can't heal is himself. His life is miserable. Until Harry comes and somehow makes his life much more tolerable.

16) Your Love Is Rain, My Heart The Flower | Explicit | 68,184 words

It had been six years. Six years since Harry had left a heavily pregnant Louis and never looked back. Six years of thinking he would never have to face the consequences of that decision. His best friend’s wedding was the last place he expected to be reunited with his ex and their pup.

17) Keep It Sweet In Your Memory (My Sunflower) | Not Rated | 105,402 words

Louis hasn’t been home in two years. Not since the night everything fell apart. Not since their break up. Not since he left Harry behind. But now, Anne is getting married, and there’s no avoiding it. No ignoring the way his chest tightens at the thought of seeing him again. Harry, with his green eyes that always knew too much. Harry, who never chased after him when he packed his bags. Harry, who once swore they’d have forever.

18) I Believe In Magic | Explicit | 115,265 words

Harry is the Crown Prince and the future king of Camelot. His sworn duty is to protect his kingdom from outside threats, especially from the dangers of magic. Louis is his best friend and, technically, his servant. And he has a secret.

19) High School Love | Mature | 135,381 words

Louis, the newest transfer student, hopes for a fresh start after facing bullying at his previous schools. On his first day, he's seated with Harry and his two best friends, Zayn and Liam. Louis and Harry quickly become close friends and start spending a lot of time together. Could feelings blossom between them? After all he's endured, Louis remains hesitant. Louis, a shy teen recently outed, finds love and appreciation in Harry, who is also navigating his own sexuality.

20) The Exceptionals | Explicit | 140,806 words

It's 1984. First impressions may be misleading, but that doesn’t stop Louis from wanting to know about the notorious boy with absent eyes and a mocking smile who is purposefully trying to ruin his life.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[gor3-hound]

lipstick

ada wong x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, cheating, oral(f!recieving), fingering

a/n: just a short drabble couldn't get ada out of my mind so here lmaooo.. not great tbh it's just word vomit!! but hope you like it regardless :)

Ada isn't sure how she got here - her face buried deep between Leon's girlfriend's thighs. She had only come to the Gala for the purpose of gathering information, and she hardly expected to see Leon there.

He's checking her out as soon as his eyes find her. She's not surprised in the slightest. Her and Leon have always been a little complicated, to say the least. He flirts with her a little, and she pretends not to notice.

Her nonchalant demeanour crumbles when you approach, sweet as anything. Her eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as you hook an arm around Leon's and give him these bright doe eyes, peering up at him through those fake lashes of yours.

He doesn't deserve you. Not when he'd been ogling Ada all night. You're not even jealous to see them talking. No, you're instantly complimenting Ada on her outfit, gushing over meeting one of Leon's ‘friends’.

Yeah, you definitely deserve better than him. What an asshole. She can't believe he'd even entertain the thought of hooking up with her when he had you on his arm. Not that she'd agree, but with you? That was a different story.

She waits until she can get you alone. Even watches closely to make sure Leon is fully out of sight and out of mind before she's dragging you off to one of the secluded rooms in this oversized mansion.

She tells you what happens, comforts you as you come to terms with the news, and somehow… ends up pushing you back against the table and eating you out like she'd been starving. You make the prettiest sounds, your perfectly manicured nails carving marks into the wood as you dig your fingers into the surface, chipping your nail polish.

She shifts back to admire her handiwork for a moment. Your pretty thighs are marked up with her lipstick, and she can't help but smirk at the sight. It's not long before her head dips down again, black hair cascading around her as she dives back into your pussy.

Her tongue flicks against your clit eagerly, teasing the swollen bud. You can't help but moan, your hips bucking up into her face. She draws back slightly with a chuckle, pushing your hips back down onto the table.

“Don't be so impatient, baby.” She tuts, kissing her way up your thigh again. “I'll give you what you need.”

She holds you down on the table now, her tongue dipping between your wet folds. She laps up your juices, tongue pushing in and out of your tight hole before she slides it up, flicking the wet muscle against your clit once more.

She flattens her tongue against it before she wraps her lips around the sensitive bud and sucks it into her mouth. You feel her hand sliding up your thigh, two fingers teasingly circling your dripping hole before pushing in. She curls them once they're sheathed inside, finding your sweet spot with ease. You feel her grin against your pussy as you whimper and arch your back, knowing she's got you.

She continues to massage your spongy walls with the tips of her fingers, thrusting them in and out as she suckles greedily on your clit. The more you moan, the more you encourage her. It's not long before you're mewling her name, rocking your hips between her face and her fingers.

“O-oh… Ada! I'm gonna… fuck-” You manage to whine, back arching as you cum all over her face. She keeps going until you're twitching with oversensitivity, pulling her fingers out of you and sucking them clean.

“There we go. Forget about that loser.” She says with a grin, wiping your juices off of her chin with the back of her hand. She looks down at the pinkish red marks, letting out a sigh of mock-exasperation. 

“Baby. You messed up my lipstick.”

[bearyzdiary]

Sleepy lover

Simon X Reader

This diary entry contains… Reader is sleepy | sleepy mornings with Simon | mentions of depression | pretty short and simple | established relationship |

It was a cold morning as you had decided to have a sleepover at Simon’s house.you spent the night cleaning up his room and helping him with certain chores.

You spent most of the night cuddled up in the darkness of his room as you two talked of random things.School,life and random thoughts.Despite you always being sleepy or being fast asleep you knew how to squeeze Simon into your life perfectly.

You were always awkake at the right times and sometimes the two of you would fall asleep at random places.One time you two had went to a library to study but ended up falling asleep on the beanbags.

The sun was barely up as you shifted around Simon’s bed.It wasn’t too dark in his room as you could make out his sleeping figure.his back was facing you as he let out small snores here and there.

You sat up slightly as you yawned and turned over so your back was facing Simon’s back.You knew Simon had a horrible sleep schedule which is why you would come over and just nap with him.

His depression made it hard for him to do anything which is why you offered to do things with him such as shower,cook,clean anything he needed to do you would help with.It made you smile knowing you were helping Simon in the best way you could.

As his girlfriend you didn’t overstep any boundaries.If Simon didn’t want you to help him you wouldn’t force yourself you would just give him a couple of words of encouragement before doing your own thing.

You felt Simon stir around behind you before you felt a cold arm sling around your waist.you smile before closing your eyes,Pretending to sleep.To your surprise Simon was still sleep meaning you didn’t really have to pretend but you still did anyway.

You ended up falling right back to sleep in the middle of your pretend sleep play and was woken up to a much more brighter sky and the sun shining into your eyes.you hissed slightly as you turned over and rubbed your eyes.

Once you opened them you smiled at the sight of your boyfriend who was sitting on the floor doing something.”whatcha doing down there?”You ask while giggling at Simon slightly jumping at the sound of your voice.

He smiled before looking down at pile of folded clothes.”I was folding the laundry you helped me do last night.Thank you again for helping me with it.I thought it would have never gotten done” Simon says,His voice slightly deeper and raspier.He got up and put the clothes away in the proper drawers before he turned back to you and smiled softly.

“Got anything planned for today?”you ask while sitting up slightly.Simon shook his head no which was great for you and your plans.”perfect! We can spend the whole day in bed and do absolutely nothing”You say while laying back down and pulling the covers over your body.

You could hear Simon chuckle as you felt the bed dip as he climbed in and laid down next to you.it was silent for a while with the occasional bird chirp or dog barking.sitting in silence was something the two of you would a lot as you found sleeping near Simon made you feel better knowing he was safe.

Simon loved his sleepy lover.He loved watching you sleep anywhere in his house from his bed,To the couch to one time the kitchen floor because of how hot it was outside and how cold the floor was.He was glad to have you because you truly did care for him.

[strayrockette]

Echos of an Empty Chair

Summary: Reader makes Benny’s favorite

Warning: Angst (I made myself cry), grief, loss,

A/N: I wrote a quick angst one shot because I couldn’t stop thinking about this scene. I don’t think I’m going to recover from this one 😭😭😭I broke my own dang heart 😭😭💔💔💔

Masterlist

The room felt hollow, the kind of empty that echoed, amplifying the silence that followed each of my words. I stood in the dim kitchen, where the soft, warm light barely pushed back the shadows creeping in from the corners. The clock ticked rhythmically, each second a cruel reminder of the time that passed without him. I stared at the perfectly set dinner table, two plates arranged just as he liked—one for me, one for him. It was a ritual I couldn’t seem to break, even though I knew he wouldn’t be coming through the door.

“I made your favorite, roasted steak, mashed potatoes, and baked veggies,” I said, my voice wavering in the quiet. My hand instinctively moved to my growing belly, cradling it like I was trying to comfort myself more than the life growing inside. The tightness in my chest grew, but I forced a small smile, the kind I used to give him when he’d tease me about my cooking. “I could barely eat without this,” I tapped my belly lightly, “little one fighting me every step of the way.”

My gaze drifted to the window, drawn by the sight of his bike sitting neatly in the driveway. Its familiar shape was a jarring contradiction, looking pristine and ready to roar back to life, like nothing had changed. Johnny and the boys had worked tirelessly to fix it, each screw and bolt a labor of love and grief, their way of honoring him. I had watched them from the porch, pretending not to notice the tears they thought they hid behind greasy hands and tired smiles. “Johnny and the boys worked together to fix your bike,” I murmured, the sight of it wrenching something inside me. “I didn’t think they’d ever manage to put it back together.”

My mind wandered to that night, the one that shattered everything. I could hear the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and the deafening silence that followed. The phone call, the one that made my knees buckle, replayed in my head over and over like a broken record. I had been folding laundry, something so mundane, when the world caved in. The officer’s voice on the other end was stiff and rehearsed, like he’d given this kind of news a hundred times before. But it was the words that echoed: “There’s been an accident. Benny didn’t make it.”

I stared at the empty chair across from me, the one he used to occupy, where he’d lean back with that lazy grin, teasing me about overcooking the steak or forgetting the salt in the potatoes. I could almost see him there now, legs crossed, fingers drumming on the table, waiting for me to sit down and share a meal, to share a moment. It was like his presence lingered in every corner of this house, in the faint scent of his cologne that still clung to his leather jacket by the door, in the scattered tools he always forgot to put away, in the faint hum of his favorite song that haunted the back of my mind.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. I had cried enough, and yet it never felt like enough. Every day without him was a fresh wound, reopening at the slightest trigger—a song on the radio, the rumble of a bike passing by, the sight of his old baseball cap still hanging on the hook by the door. I reached out, fingers brushing the edge of his plate as if touching it would somehow bridge the impossible distance between us.

“I… miss you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. The words were too small for the vast emptiness inside me, too weak to capture the weight of what I’d lost. It wasn’t just Benny I missed; it was the future we’d planned, the family we were building, the little moments of everyday life that were now just memories tainted with pain. I missed his laugh, his ridiculous jokes, the way he’d hold me close when the world felt too heavy.

I looked down at my belly again, the only piece of him left that I could still hold onto. This little life, growing and kicking, was my only anchor, my reason to keep moving forward. But every kick felt bittersweet, a reminder of the love we’d shared and the life we’d never get to have together. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing, hoping, praying that somehow, somewhere, Benny could hear me, that he knew how much I still loved him, how much I needed him, how his absence was a wound that would never fully heal.

I closed my eyes, letting the silence wrap around me like a suffocating blanket. The food on the table grew cold, untouched, just like every other night since he’d been gone. The house, once filled with laughter and love, now felt like a tomb, holding the echoes of a life that had been ripped away too soon. I stayed there, lost in the memories, clutching the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, he was still here with me in some small, intangible way.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 3, Day 18, Day 20

Stalking | “I can handle it.” | Scrape | “I’m fine.”

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: angst, fatigue, stalking mention but in jest, mention of being arrested

WC: 620

Light yet glowing in the sky

“I don’t know how else to explain this to you,” said the governor’s son, “but you need to let this go. We’re leaving in the morning, and my father will kill me if I don’t bring you back.”

“What? You’re not going to miss me?”

The food taster barely registered his own joke. It had been a long day, and a disheartening one, which had yielded no answers as to the identity or the location of the mysterious girl whose charm he still had in his possession. Sluggish waves of exhaustion dragged at his limbs, and the stinging sparks of a headache burst sporadically in his temple—yet his mind couldn’t rest.

Who was she, that girl, and why did he care so much? What gain was there to be found in seeking her out? It was beyond futile, reaching the point of absurdity, as his friend, who had not been reticent about sharing his opinion, continually reminded him.

And who was not done, apparently.

“No, and I especially won’t miss you if you bring shame and scandal to my doorstep by getting dragged off by the palace guards. You’re obsessed. You spent all day looking for her already, and you found nothing, so what else is there to do? Forget her. You’ll get into trouble, some sort of scrape you won’t be able to get yourself out of, and I am not paying to bail you out of prison if you’re arrested for stalking that poor girl. Get yourself packed, and move on.”

The food taster glanced sullenly at his half-filled trunk. “You’re the one who told me to give the charm back.”

“Well, that was before she ceased to exist, as she evidently has. Just . . . think about something else. You’ve done all you can.”

After a long pause wherein he considered his friend’s words, weighing them against the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, the food taster sighed. “You’re right.”

His friend crossed his arms, eyes alight with triumph. “Of course I am. You may have the extraordinary magical taste buds, but I’ve got the brains.”

The food taster rolled his eyes, then added with a frown, “I’m wounded by your lack of faith in me. You think I couldn’t handle a spot of trouble on my own?”

“Correction. I know you couldn’t.”

“I could. In fact, I think I’d be perfectly fine.”

“We’ll agree to disagree.”

Half-heartedly, not concealing the sulky look on his face, the food taster resumed throwing his clothing haphazardly into his trunk.

“Good man,” said his friend, clapping him on the shoulder. “I knew you’d see sense. No point in looking for trouble where there is none.”

Concealed in the food taster’s pocket, the gold charm seemed to burn hot as embers. “I suppose so.”

“You suppose?” His friend shook his head. “I give up with you. You’re hopeless, you know. How about I do all the thinking from now on, hmm?”

Hopeless, indeed.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” said the governor’s son, heading for the door.

The moment he was out of sight, the food taster dropped the tunic he’d been pretending to fold.

He left the door ajar when he stepped outside, so as not to alert anyone to his flight.

Pointless. Ridiculous. A lost cause.

Perhaps it was so.

But…

He glanced at the setting sun, watching radiant streaks of red as they arrayed across the sky. Soon it would be dark. Soon it would be tomorrow. Soon it would be too late.

But there was light yet glowing in the sky, and determination yet blazing in his heart.

And he’d be damned if he didn’t give it one last try before he let the flame burn out.

June of Doom Masterlist

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All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[red-the-dragon-writes]

Fishing Habits

Summary:

“I know what you’re doing,” Dan said without preamble. “Huh?” Jay said. “Oh, right. I know you work for the school, but I didn’t think you’d be that much of a hardass.” “What?” Dan said. Jay paused, looking Dan over for a moment. “Actually, what are you talking about? I don’t think we’re on the same page.” “With the fish,” Dan clarified. Jay raised the odd ridges of flesh over his eyes that functioned as eyebrows. “I’m mer, you asshole. I can talk to them. They told me what fucked-up shit you’ve been pulling. What’s your problem?” “Sometimes I get hungry,” Jay said. “Can I see your notes now?”

Dan is an ordinary merman-pretending-to-be-a-human. Jay is... something else entirely. He seems like a really pleasant guy, except for how freaked out all the fish are. And Dan's college has just opened a new aquarium...

On Ao3 here.

There was an understanding, which had been in place as long as Dan could remember, that meant that one must not reveal the existence of The Supernatural to human society, and if one did the people they made the reveal to needed to be dealt with in some way—sworn to secrecy, brought into the fold of the Oceanic, or even, at absolutely worst, killed. Dan didn’t want to deal with it. There was a lot of paperwork involved in fucking up the order of things, and it was a huge hassle, and also there was a lot of risk involved. It wasn’t like Dan had any real need to reveal he’d grown up under the Pacific rather than in it, anyway. And his parents were living off the coast of Oregon now anyway, so he didn’t even have to do that much lying about it. It was easy and he kept it well under wraps.

He did five years of field work before they told him they were going to require him to come back to the university and teach at a handful of classes before he’d be allowed back out into the field or he’d lose his position, which also meant losing most of his source of funding and the grant he was working with. They offered to let him teach it remotely, of course—the department chair apologizing profusely the entire time—but Dan was doing altogether too much of the work from six hundred feet below the surface of the Atlantic and that just wouldn’t work out. No way to maintain The Secret. Instead he resigned himself to another few years living on land and away from the fishes, rented an apartment, and returned to Spokane to teach two sessions of classes about saltwater ecology in the Pacific to incoming students and one class on field work to older biology majors. Oh well. At least he could visit home on the weekends.

Since his own research was put on pause and the college did promise to pay for his tuition, Dan opted to take a handful of classes, too. What else was he going to do? He was still in touch with the rest of the field crew, and when they finally started writing, sure, he’d refocus onto that, but at the moment he wasn’t going to be of any help. And in one of the classes was a gray man.

You weren’t allowed to do that, but he was doing it. Dan was perfectly certain that there were laws against being out in the open with visibly-discolored flesh across all the major out-of-sight jurisdictions, and he was also pretty sure the Sideways Court was still offering free glamours for anyone who desperately needed into human society and also could prove beyond a reasonable doubt that they couldn’t just change their colors themselves, though Dan had also heard that the paperwork to prove either was a nightmare and the Sideways Court sounded just kind of awful to boot.  The Oceanic North-Pacific Authority was a lot better in a lot of ways. God knew applying for his visa was a nightmare of bureaucracy. But the point was: the gray man was openly flouting the rules. And worse than just being gray alone, he also had horns. His fingernails were blue, his teeth were sharp and needle-shaped, and his eyes had no pupils, just scleras and black centers that looked like hollow glass marbles. He had ripples crisscrossing his skin like vines growing just beneath the surface, and though Dan couldn’t be sure, he thought his body was a weird consistency, too, that he bent further than Dan expected when he bumped into things or wore a heavy bag over his shoulders. There was no way his appearance was legal. Dan felt for him, because it had to be difficult doing all that, but it wasn’t allowed. He’d probably get in trouble for just being around it, if someone came and found out and reported the guy and Dan hadn’t said anything.

Still. Dan had to respect it. And it was interesting to see how fast the other students got used to Jay and his gray skin and his horns and his eerie pupil-less eyes. Honestly, Dan was kind of disappointed in himself. His initial anxiety was unfair, wasn’t it? It was the laws that were unfair. Human society clearly wasn’t the problem it was cracked up to be.

Eventually Dan worked up the courage to tell Jay that he was mer. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Jay had just nodded, shrugged, and said, “Cool.” That was it. And, honestly, as far as Dan was concerned, that was plenty. He didn’t need to be friends with a twenty-something nonconformist—or however old Jay was; he hadn’t asked, really—and just because they were both in the same class didn’t mean anything, really. They knew each other’s names, and Jay occasionally asked Dan for notes. That was plenty.

-

Dan wasn’t much of a partier and he wasn’t much of a night owl, and he didn’t’ spend a lot of time out of the house. What he did was usually at a river somewhere. Spokane was gorgeous and full of lively fish, and by virtue of his heritage Dan could chat. Fish didn’t usually have a lot to talk about, but something had them in a tizzy when Dan finally made it out to his favorite spot, and they were particularly anxious to tip him off.

At first, he couldn’t make heads or tails of why it mattered to him that someone had developed new lures (aside from how his job was kind of to keep an eye on what people were doing with his rivers and all). But it came together eventually. Jay had something weird about him. He’d started coming to the water just like Dan had—here and elsewhere—and chatting, just like Dan had. And Dan had lured them into a sense of security. They should’ve been secure, talking! Even when Dan was hungry he didn’t eat the fish he talked to! But to talk to Jay was dangerous. Fish that talked to Jay too long vanished. And he had strange lures, luminescent sweet blue worms that made fish dizzy and sick if they bit them off and which moved even when torn apart until they were eaten. The fish insisted, almost en masse, that this strange gray man who chatted up their waters was bad news, and on the whole they badly wanted Dan to find him and make him cut it out.

Dan didn’t even know what to make of it at first. He asked question after question, trying to understand what they meant first and then after to try to ensure they weren’t actually talking about his classmate. The fish were convinced he was unfathomably ancient, even though he was taking first-year classes. But it became too clear that they were the same person after not long at all. A handful even had his name to relay, and even though they pronounced it a little differently, there was no question that he was the same person with the same name. Brazen.

The fish generally knew what predation was and it—well, it bothered them, sure, but it was an understood way of life, and they knew Dan himself ate fish and was part of human society where fishing was done. They’d never come to ask him to put an end to regular fishing before. The first and last time any of them had banded together like this, it was six fish, and they wanted him to handle a chemical mess that he’d been almost completely useless about. The fact that he had nearly forty fish across a whole host of species asking him to put a stop to Jay’s hunting meant that something about that guy was very, very off.

At least, when it came to the fish.

Still, Dan didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Maybe he was just a weirdo. But he had access to most of the college labs, and there were fishtanks in several buildings, and so—nervously and feeling like he certainly looked a bit out of his mind—he went around, talking to the fish there. He didn’t like what he found. All the fish knew Jay. There was no doubt he could and did talk to them, often at odd hours when the fish said that they were typically bored, which meant he was on campus late at night and early in the morning sneaking in to talk with them. Several tanks were apparently head-over-heels charmed. Others, these fewer and further between and, Dan noted after a short while poking around, more likely to have deaths in the fish population waved off than more carefully-managed tanks, told Dan nervously that Jay wasn’t what he seemed. That he had been charming and pleasant and had these magnificent worm lures that they’d never seen before, and then without warning he’d coaxed one of them into his hands and ate them, just like that.

These were domestic fishes, indoor fish. Pets, practically. It was alien to them that a person would do that, and it scared them. But it didn’t seem Jay would willingly strike too many times in the same place, rotating tanks out at random. And what for? Sometimes, they said, he’d come back, and chat like nothing had happened even though they all saw him kill one of their number without a thought. There was something wrong with him. Dan, if Dan knew him, should be cautious.

These fish didn’t seem to understand that there was a world of difference between eating a human (or a mer, really) and eating a goldfish, but Dan promised to take the warning under advisement anyway.  

-

Upon the day that Dan decided to confront Jay about his weird, creepy fish-eating behavior, several interesting things happened.

The first was simple. A colleague from the Environmental Sciences branch had invited him to downtown Spokane for no clear reason just before when Dan typically took his lunch. Alicia had been a close friend when Dan was doing his dissertation and she was currently working on her own postdoc research a little ways outside Spokane, just far enough from where Dan lived that they only got together so often. She told him that it was a surprise, and ot to look anything up about the location, so he obligingly didn’t.

It turned out to be an aquarium. More than that, it was an aquarium owned and run jointly by the college and a handful of others, and while it was still in the final stages before opening, Dan—by virtue of his employment with the school and his own degree focus in fish care and fish wellness—was welcome back whenever, provided he told them what he was doing and didn’t meddle unexpectedly. They wanted him to give his thoughts on a couple of tanks. And the tanks were fascinating. For some reason, whoever had done the design of the building had had a vision and they’d executed it; the tanks looked like classrooms-turned-reefs, replicas of desks and tables cast in plaster and then given coral to grow over them, furnished with lighting that looked like fluorescent strip lights in classrooms and even sometimes sporting false windows out to the street. And all the while, inside, sharks and huge groupers and small brightly-colored reef fish and schooling fish and others besides serenely went about their business. It was inspired, it really was. His parents would’ve gotten such a kick out of it.

Alicia had shown him around, and then they’d gotten food.  It was a very nice afternoon, all things told.

The second was less pleasant. Just as he and Alicia were going their separate ways, Dan got an email from the school about a missing student, a request for more information if anyone had any. They had last been seen about a week before, and their car had just turned up abandoned at Lake Wenatchee, a state park a little ways outside Spokane. Dan hadn’t seen that happen before. Unfortunate, but not anyone he knew. He filed it away mentally and had pretty much stopped thinking about it by the time he got back to his apartment.

The third, and most objectively inconsequential, was that his first afternoon class had been canceled. His professor had come down with the flu.  

And, finally, though they didn’t have class together today, Jay had called Dan and asked to meet with him. Evidently Jay had missed a lecture, or maybe several, and wanted to see Dan’s notes. The timing was just right.

“I know what you’re doing,” Dan said without preamble.

“Huh?” Jay said.  “Oh, right. I know you work for the school, but I didn’t think you’d be that much of a hardass.”

“What?” Dan said.

Jay paused, looking Dan over for a moment. “Actually, what are you talking about? I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

“With the fish,” Dan clarified. Jay raised the odd ridges of flesh over his eyes that functioned as eyebrows. “I’m mer, you asshole. I can talk to them. They told me what fucked-up shit you’ve been pulling. What’s your problem?”

“Sometimes I get hungry,” Jay said. “Can I see your notes now?”

“Sometimes you get hungry?” Dan echoed. It took him a moment to remember how to form sentences properly. “Go to the—fucking—there are vending machines all over campus, there’s a cafeteria, you’re an underclassmen, don’t you have a meal plan—you get hungry? Hungry?”

Jay looked at Dan as though he were completely unimpressed and completely unmoved. “Okay. Can I see your notes now?”

Dan took a deep breath. “Jay, I’m here on behalf of the fish to ask you to cut the shit.”

“Huh,” Jay said. “Are you, like, going to let me see your notes, or was this just, you know, pretext to yell at me?”

Dan sighed, pulling his knapsack around to see if he could find his notebook. “No. As much as I think the way that you’ve started going after these fish is creepy as all fuck, I don’t really want your grades to suffer. Stop eating the fish.”

Jay shrugged. “I guess I can go out of campus and—”

“No,” Dan said, cutting him off. “Not the campus fish, all the local fish. I first heard about this from the fish in the Spokane. Everyone at Riverside Park is sick of your shit. It’s creepy, Jay. What’s the point of getting all buddy-buddy with fish you’re planning on eating?”

Jay’s eyes narrowed. “What, should I kill without a thought, then? What if I catch a fish with obligations?”

“That’s not why you’re doing it.”

“You’re right,” Jay said. “It’s not. But it is a consideration, among many. I don’t think it’s as bad as you think. And, no, I won’t be stopping any time soon.”

Dan shook his head and threw the notebook at the table. “Give it back to me when we have class again. And after that, I don’t want to hear from you.”

“What’s the big problem?” Jay said, suddenly sounding much more concerned. “Acanthis, they’re just fish.”

“They’re not just fish to me,” Dan snapped. “I’m mer, you asshole. It’s not the same. And—the way you do it is creepy. I don’t like it. Just because I know fish aren’t people to you doesn’t mean they don’t matter to me.”

“Oh,” Jay said. “The issue is that I eat fish?”

“I eat fish!” Dan said. “Are you being—are you being willfully stupid now? The problem is that you’re making friends with the fish you eat!”

“Ah,” Jay said. “Yeah, no, sorry, there’s nothing you can do about that. It’s been good knowing you, Acanthis. Thanks for the notes.”

“Fuck yourself,” Dan said, rather charitably, as far as he was concerned, and stormed back out of the library.

-

Jay did not stop preying on the fish. He did stop asking Dan for notes. He did also return Dan’s notebook, in about the same condition as he’d taken it, but there was an odd blue stain on one page.

 And life continued as it normally did. The class continued. Dan got familiar with the professor, a lovely older woman called Dr. Bernadotte Maragou, who was very sweet and worked in the Health Sciences department but was still nonetheless teaching an ecology course because the school was lacking a professor to teach it and she had the necessary bioinformatics background. Unfortunately, Jay did, too. He was—to everyone else, at least—charming, or at least something like it. To hear Bernie speak, he was sweet and helpful and wouldn’t hurt a fly.  But if she could hear the fish, she’d think he was the devil. All everyone else’s adoration served to do was make Dan like him even less.

Still, the end of the semester approached apace, and Dan kept his focus on himself and his friends as much as he was able. Most of the fish that Dan was familiar with knew better than to trust Jay by now, and he heard that Jay was venturing further and causing trouble in different places instead, but he left it alone. Realistically, what was he going to do? It was the only reasonable thing. He stopped by the aquarium on occasion, which was a delight in and of itself, and he got his work done, and he kept in touch with his colleagues in the Atlantic and they kept him posted on what they were seeing with the shark populations they were monitoring. There were some instances of bad news—the missing student never showed up, and another one or two, Dan wasn’t sure, joined them in vanishing off the face of the earth, but it was a city and these things happened and it didn’t happen to anyone Dan knew. At the end of the day, all was as well as it could really be.

Until it wasn’t.  

One week before the end of classes, Bernadotte announced to the class as a whole that the university was going to launch the aquarium publicly, explaining briefly what it was and much more rapidly turning to something worse: that, as a pre-opening event, the Environmental Sciences college was hosting an event and anyone enrolled in an CoES class was welcome, for free and everything. Dan watched Jay perk up, visibly interested. Absolutely not.

It was one thing to be eating goldfish from the tank and wild fish out of the river. It was something else entirely to start eating out of an aquarium. Dan couldn’t help but feel protective over a project he’d helped with, too, even if it hadn’t been that much help. He knew a lot of those fish. He was absolutely not letting this rule-flaunting, skeevy asshole fuck it all up.

He accosted Jay outside class. “You are not going to that aquarium.”

“The one with the art installations?” Jay said. “Yes I am. Do you want something, Acanthis?”

“Would you quit calling me by my last name? Stay out of those fucking fish tanks.”

“No,” Jay said. “I have another class to be at, Acanthis, would you get out of my face?”

“The second anything goes wrong at that aquarium, I’m pointing the finger at you,” Dan said. “Don’t even fucking think about it. I’ll know if even a single fish is fucking hurt. If you even speak to them.”

“Acanthis. I have places to be,” Jay said. “Move, or I’m pushing you.”

“This is the only warning I’m fucking giving you,” Dan growled. “Take it. Stay out of the fucking aquarium.”

Jay scoffed and shouldered past Dan. Dan made no effort not to be pushed out of the way, but called after Jay, “I mean it!”

Jay shook his head, like he was rolling his eyes where Dan couldn’t see them, and kept walking.  So the aquarium was screwed, basically.

-

Dan knew he was being a little unreasonable. He wasn’t going to let that stop him, though.

Asking around turned up that Jay likely didn’t have a car, so Dan figured that he was going to try to catch a ride with someone else to the aquarium. It was hardly walking distance, from campus to the center of downtown Spokane. Trying to stop Jay from getting a carpool was going to be hard, but not impossible, of course. He’d figure something out. If he could even figure out who was bringing Jay…

…which turned out to be easier than Dan had expected. Two days after the announcement in class, Bernie had announced that she’d gotten some students who were struggling to make it to the aquarium location, and she would be organizing carpools. That just meant that Dan needed to see who got Jay’s name and somehow convince them not to bring Jay. These were students. He could probably bribe them, or ply them with cookies and alcohol, or something. Wouldn’t be too hard.

It wasn’t to be. Bernie ended up with three kids on overflow, and Jay was one of them. Bernie was a really lovely lady, and sweet as they came. And there was absolutely no way Dan was going to be able to tell her what the issue was without having to answer difficult questions about himself, and besides, she’d probably insist that he was being too hard on Jay and there was a good reason to eat goldfish after telling them you thought they were the best individual fish on the planet or something. So just telling Jay’s transportation to leave him behind unexpectedly was out of the plan.

Eventually, in a fit of desperation, Dan asked Bernie if he could catch a ride with her along with the other three students. She said that he could, and that it’d be a little cramped but there would still be room for everyone.

The night before the event, Dan started asking around again, trying to find Jay to warn him off a second time. This time he didn’t succeed. Everyone knew who he was, of course, but no one could quite find him. One girl even asked Dan if he thought Jay was ”next”—baffling Dan, and when he asked what she meant, she started carrying on about mysterious disappearances and serial killers like she thought they were living in a movie of some sort. No one else Dan spoke to was any more helpful. Jay had to be off-campus somewhere, or maybe he’d vanished into thin air. Dan wasn’t optimistic enough to trust in the latter, but he crossed his fingers anyway. That would be one disappearance Dan wouldn’t mind, that was for sure.

The inexorable march of time went on, as it always did. Tomorrow rolled around. Dan woke up on the morning of the aquarium event and knew that this was it. He was out of time. He just had to find some way to make it happen.

This time, he succeeded in waylaying Jay. It was by chance, even—he caught sight of Jay’s stupid gray horns just barely peeking out over the sea of faces at the front doors to the library and zeroed in on Jay as fast as he could. He grabbed Jay by the arm and couldn’t suppress a second of distaste at the texture of Jay’s flesh—strangely squishy and stiff all at once, like a very full water balloon instead of flesh with bones in it—and then Jay whirled around. “Acanthis?”

Dan opted not to call him on the name thing this time. “This is the last time I’m going to say it. Stay away from the aquarium.”

“Didn’t you say last time was going to be the only warning?” Jay said.

“I am so serious,” Dan said. “You do not want to test me on this. Stay away from the aquarium! Do I make myself clear?”

“Uh-huh. Enjoy the rest of your day, Acanthis.” Jay started to pull away from Dan, and Dan grabbed his arm tighter. His odd glassy eyes narrowed. “You’re going to want to let go of me right now.”

“Tell me you’ll stay away from the aquarium.”

Jay wrenched his arm away from Dan’s grip, much harder than Dan expected. His knuckles ached at the sudden force; he could swear he heard one of his joints crack. “I told you to let go of me, didn’t I? I don’t know how to say this politely, Acanthis—stop telling me to stay away from the aquarium. I’m allowed to be curious about it just like everyone else is. Just because you have a problem with me doesn’t make it my concern. I’m tolerating this, because you work here and I’m probably leaving after another semester. But if you push me, I’m going to start pushing back. Do I make myself clear?”

“I don’t have a problem with you, I have a problem with you eating—” Dan realized abruptly that they were in public and lowered his voice. “Eating the fucking fish! I think that should be fucking understandable.”

“No, you also have a problem with me,” Jay said flatly. “You are not the only one, and I do not care very much. But you will never be able to dictate what I do and don’t do. You had better get that through your head right the fuck now.”

Dan, disbelieving, shook his head. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Great,” Jay said, shoving past Dan. He hit Dan in the chest with his shoulder, clearly intentionally. “See you at the aquarium, Acanthis.”

“No you fucking won’t!” Dan called after him, but he vanished seamlessly into the crowd before he was even done speaking.

Fucker.

-

Finally, out of ideas, Dan called up a local friend who did some contract work with the Sideways Court and asked them to temporarily hex Bernie’s car. He felt bad about it, but it wouldn’t be any real harm done, and it’d just keep the car from starting for a while. It would stop the other two students from getting to the aquarium either, but Dan was willing to call that an acceptable loss. He turned up at the parking lot next to the cafeteria at the appointed meeting-time even though he knew it wasn’t going to get him anywhere; it seemed only fair to miss it, and besides, that let him keep an eye on Jay.

Jay gave Dan a very dubious look when he arrived. “You’d better not be waiting here for me, Acanthis.”

“Nope,” Dan said. “Carpooling.”

Jay gave him a long, hard look, and then shrugged and pulled out his phone. “I assume you’ll be dogging my steps all night?”

“You’d best believe it.”

“I don’t mean to insult you, Acanthis,” Jay said, “but this strikes me as a phenomenally stupid plan.”

“I keep telling you, my name is Dan,” Dam said. “And my plan is fine.”

“I’m sure it is,” Jay said, not looking up from his phone. “Look, for all anyone knows, you’re the concern here. Everyone at the library saw you getting handsy and aggressive with me. You have fuck-all in the way of evidence. And I’m—”

A car pulled up along the cement, and Jay cut off, picking his head up. “Ah, there’s Doctor Maragou,” he said, in exactly the same casual tone.

That was weird, and eerie. “Hey, Bernie,” Dan called, trying to keep any sort of distrust out of his tone of voice. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, hi, Dan,” Bernie said. “Hi Jay! It’s great to see you both. Have you seen Sophia and Luke?”

“Not yet, but there’s still plenty of time,” Jay said, smiling warmly. “Dan, I know you’re closest with Doctor Maragou. Do you want to sit up front?”

“Generous of you,” Dan said, “yeah. Bernie, should we get in now?”

“Yeah, why not?” Bernie asked. “I think I see Sophia coming over now, anyway. It shouldn’t be too long.”

True enough, Sophia was cresting the small hill between the walking path and the parking lot. As Dan watched, Luke, the fourth student, walked over as well. So that was the whole crowd.

Dan didn’t need to jostle around, not in the front seat, but in the back Sophia, Luke, and Jay had to work out seating arrangements; Jay had volunteered to sit in the middle, but there was a little bit of difficulty with the seatbelts, and it took a few minutes of shuffling about before Luke finally announced to Bernie that they  could start driving. Bernie nodded, smiling, and made to pull out of the parking lot. And then her car made a terrible backfiring noise.

“What the hell was that?” Luke blurted. “I mean, um, sorry Professor.”

“What the hell was that?” Bernie muttered, stepping on the gas again. Nothing happened.

“That’s… weird,” Sophia said. “Professor M., has that ever happened before?”

“Nope,” Bernie said. “I’ve never had any car do that before.”

“I can take a look at it,” Sophia said, already opening the door. “I’m good with cars.”

“Hang on a minute,” Bernie said, turning her key in the ignition. Nothing happened. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yup,” Sophia said.

“How sure?” said Bernie, pressing on the gas again.

“Very sure,” Sophia said. “I like cars. Pressing on the gas isn’t going to do anything good if it‘s not igniting, so maybe stop doing that.”

Bernie stopped pressing on the gas very quickly. “Okay. You can look under the hood, if you want. Let me come out and look at it with you.”

The two of them stood outside the car looking at the hood for a good ten or eleven minutes. Jay made dubious eye contact with Dan through the rearview mirror. Dan pretended not to notice.

“Um,” Luke, the other classmate, said awkwardly after about two minutes of sustained silence. “So, uh, you’re Professor Acanthis, right?”

“You can call me Dan,” Dan said.

“Yeah, but you teach the fieldwork for nonmajors class, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “Why?”

“Is it particularly hard?” Luke asked. “I mean, work-intensive. I’m setting up my schedule for next semester.”

Dan paused, trying to think about that. “I just started teaching it this semester. I think it’s pretty light, but you’re better off asking one of my students.”

“He means it’s very easy,” Jay said tonelessly. “Acanthis, tell him your late work policy.”

“It’s Dan,” Dan said. “As long as it’s in before the end of the semester, I don’t take points off late work.”

“They meet once a week, there’s a lab report due but you can work on it in the class, and it’s for nonmajors,” Jay added. “Very easy class. If you want an easy A you should take it.”

“Huh,” Luke said. “Thanks… Jaaaaaames?”

“Jay,” Jay said, but now that Dan was listening he pronounced it a little oddly, sort of more like ‘Joy’ than ‘Jay’. “Luke, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke said. “Are you planning on taking it next semester? I thought you and Professor Acanthis had… um.”

“Drama?” Jay asked, and laughed under his breath. “No, it’s nothing serious, but I’m on the pre-med track. Have to take macrobio field instead. I’m only in class with Doc Maragou because it qualified as an elective.”

“What’s the deal, actually?” Luke said. “Like, if you don’t mind me asking, because I heard you guys were really, uh… but you seem chill now.”

“Like I said,” Jay said, “it’s nothing serious. Me and Acanthis have a couple disagreements over… I don’t know, I don’t want to get into it. And a friend of a friend was talking shit about me that he believed, but I think we’re over that. Mostly it’s personality clash.”

“It’s not personality clash,” Dan said. “He’s fucked over a few friends of mine and won’t stop doing it.”

Jay raised his eyebrows at Luke, who smiled rather tightly back. “It is really not that serious. He doesn’t like that I don’t do what he tells me. I get it. I don’t like to be told what to do. It’s a personality clash. We’re working it out. This time next year, I imagine you won’t even hear that me and Acanthis were arguing.”

“Huh,” Luke said. “Right.”

Dan willed himself not to argue, even though that was blatantly untrue. He didn’t need to hash the whole thing out in front of a human audience. Fortunately, about that point Bernie came back around. “We can’t figure the problem out,” she said through the driver’s-side door, “so you three might as well come out. I’m not sure what we’re going to do here.”

“Damn,” Luke said.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Jay said, “and it’ll get us there a little late, but we could take the Six over to Riverside.”

Dan turned to look at him, uncomprehending. He could see the other three do the same.

“The bus,” Jay said. “Don’t any of you go anywhere?”

“I only take the campus shuttle,” Luke said. “Sorry.”

“Huh,” Jay said. “Anyway, if that’s the plan, we should probably get moving. If we miss the bus we’re going to be waiting for a good hour for the next one.”

“I think the event ends at eight,” Bernie said.

“And it’s, what, six now?” Jay said. “So we’ll basically miss it. I don’t particularly want to do that,” he said, making eye contact with Dan with a weird little sedate smile on his face, “so unless anyone has objections, let’s get moving.”

“How far of a walk is it?” Bernie asked.

Jay shrugged. “Maybe a few miles? It’s at the transit center. Do you know where I mean?”

“Oh!” Bernie said. “Okay, I think I can do that.”

“Fan-ta-stic,” Jay said. “Luke, Sophia, you two on board?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sophia said.

“You didn’t ask Dan,” Luke said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jay said. “He’s going to follow me no matter what I ask him.”

“Oo-kay,” Luke said. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

Jay smiled, waving a hand and starting to walk rather briskly. “Alright. We have half an hour. Let’s move.”

Dan had never walked between the campus and the transit center like this before. This part of Spokane—of Washington, really—was gorgeous. Jay kept them hurrying along the side of the road, but Dan and Sophia kept slowing down to look at the trees or the rock faces or the rivers and falling behind. Dan wished he could say it was intentional, but it really was just that beautiful. And because they kept stopping at the same things, he and Sophia had started talking, aimlessly commenting on the trees and the water.

Then the road they were walking along turned into a bridge, high over a wide waterfall. All of them stopped, even Jay.

“This reminds me of where I grew up,” Sophia said to Dan. “I was walking distance from Wairere as a kid.”

Jay turned as though that had caught his attention. “Wairere Falls?”

“You’ve been there?” Sophia asked, looking a bit surprised. “Yeah.”

“They were more impressive than this, I think,” Jay said. “I don’t know, the last time I was in New Zealand was nearly thirty years ago.”

“Aotearoa,” Sophia said.

“Couldn’t have been,” Luke said, at about the same time. “How old are you?”

Jay laughed. “You think someone with a face as plastic as mine looks my age? I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’m pushing forty.”

Was that his cover? That he’d just undergone a bunch of surgeries?

“Oh, wow,” Bernie said. “What did you do before you decided to go into medicine?”

Jay glanced sidelong at Dan. “Professional fishing. Do you still need a moment to ogle?”

“Not hassling us to get moving again already?” Dan asked.

“We’ve got a little time,” Jay said.

“You were on us the whole way here,” Sophia said, still staring at the falls.

“Yeah, because I knew you were all going to stare here. It’s a nice waterfall. Take your time. I’ll tell you when we really have to get a move on.”

Dan turned that one over in his head for a moment. Was Jay expecting him to have delayed more intensely? Was that what that actually was? Or was this actually a moment of… what, generosity in disguise? Jay was such a strange person.

It was a nice waterfall, though, and the water below it looked deep and clear. Dan walked to the part of the railing Jay was leaning on, trying to look subtle, and leaned over. “Between the two of us, we’re the only ones who can breathe under water.”

“I can’t, actually,” Jay said. “I don’t breathe at all.”

Dan stopped, looking at him properly. Jay shrugged. “No lungs. Don’t breathe.”

“But you can  live under water, right?” Dan did his best to clarify.

“Yeah, that I can,” Jay said. “What about it?”

“Have you ever gone over a waterfall like that? If you’re here, and you were in New Zealand around waterfalls.”

Now it was Jay’s turn to look at Dan oddly. “I have, actually. Not often, but I have. Are you about to ask me for advice?”

“I just… wonder, I guess,” Dan said. “Does this one look like it’d be good to jump off of?”

Jay was quiet for a moment, studying the water. “Well, depends what you mean by good. You’ll probably get spun really hard. Impacting the water will probably hurt, but you don’t want to dive or anything here, or you’ll risk hitting the bottom, I think, it doesn’t look that deep to me.”

“You could’ve just said no,” Dan said.

“Those are the only problems. If you don’t like being disoriented, that’s on you,” Jay said. “The water is clean and clear and there’s no rocky outcroppings to hit yourself into. It’s pretty damn good, as far as these things go.”

“Sounds kind of unpleasant.”

“It’s  one of those things,” Jay said, turning toward the other three. “If you liked it, you’d probably already know that by now, and if you don’t, you’ve never thought about it. I’m not sure what kind of thrill-seeking mer adolescents get up to, though.”

“Me either, really. I lived most of my life on land after I turned twelve.”

“Huh,” Jay said. “That’s why you’re like this.”

“Like what?” Dan started, but Jay was already walking toward the other three. “Jay!”

“We’re going to get moving again, guys,” Jay said, waving. Bernie, Luke and Sophia reluctantly fell into step behind Jay again. Dan, for his part, hurried up to stand next to him so he could ask what the fuck Jay was talking about.

“What do you mean, that’s why I’m ‘like that?’”

“Do you want them hearing? I thought your being here meant you had to be super hush-hush.”

“Honestly, I’ve been wondering this whole time. Why don’t you?”

Jay gave him a disbelieving look. “Obviously I’m supposed to.”

“Well—you’re not, and no one’s tried to arrest you yet.”

“You’d be surprised at how low-profile I can be. Plastic surgery,” he said, tapping the ridges of flesh around his eyes, “tattoos, nail polish, and sometimes I can pass the horns off as a headband. Sometimes, if I’m really worried,” he glanced back at the other three, “they’re not looking. Watch this.”

Dan turned toward him, not sure what he was about to do, and was completely unprepared for his horns to just—sink back into the top of his forehead seemingly of their own volition. “What—?”

“It’s uncomfortable, though,” Jay said, replacing them with a gesture that looked more like spitting something out than horns protruding through his face. They were now streaked with some sort of bluish, viscous fluid, like dish soap. Jay ran his hands over them, and then rubbed his hands together, and when he went back to talking neither the horns nor his hands were wet.

“Neat trick,” Dan said, totally astonished.

“Handy, yeah,” Jay said. “Look, not that I’m not appreciating the conversation not suddenly being you yelling in my face and all, but can I ask what prompted the change of heart?”

“No hearts have been changed. I don’t want you to eat my fish,” Dan said. “But I can’t see a way to stop you getting to the aquarium, so I guess I’ll just have to tag around all night like you said I was going to. Might as well make it a little fun, right?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Jay said slowly, not looking as though he understood at all.

-

The bus was miserable, but the aquarium was fantastic, so it balanced out. Dan did tail Jay the whole time, though Jay obligingly let Dan pick over the remnants of the sushi bar before they went around to the exhibits instead of trying to lose Dan so he could go start snatching schooling fish or something. Dan asked him if he wanted anything, concerned as he was for the live fish in the exhibits; Jay demurred. Something about a food allergy, or something; Dan wasn’t sure exactly what he meant but he sure made it sound like there wasn’t anything at the table that wouldn’t somehow make him sick.

Jay was fascinated by the first-floor exhibits that looked like classrooms. Eventually they made it to the second floor, after Jay had done a long loop around the expansive ground level and spent a lot of time in the touch-tank mumbling to a nervous epaulette shark until he could coax it up toward him. Dan didn’t like it then, but it hadn’t been sinister after all, and he was trying to relax. But just after they made it to the second floor, Jay slipped off into the shadows, and Dan just barely caught up to him before Jay—with Dan’s keys—slipped behind the Employees Only door and beckoned for Dan to follow.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Dan hissed, as soon as he was inside. “They’ll kick you out if you’re back here.”

“Not if I’m with you,” Jay said, which wasn’t true.

“Yes, they will. And they’ll revoke my clearance.”

“Come on. I want to talk to the nursery sharks.”

“Absofuckinglutely not,” Dan said. “I’ll tell on both of us.”

“What the fuck is the big idea?” Jay said. “Look, you can hear both sides of the conversation. And they’re nursery sharks, and I’m not even hungry. I’m curious about living in those drowned fake rooms. Do you know which tank we should be looking for?”

“We’re not doing this,” Dan said.

“Alright, I’ll find out without you,” Jay shrugged, and started walking. Dan reached out to grab Jay’s arm, and—

Well. Dan didn’t actually know what happened, only that his hand closed on solid-ish flesh, and then it was suddenly not solid under his hand at all, and Jay had sort of just pulled away around his fingers. Weird.

“You can come with me or you can stay there, but you’re not grabbing me in private,” Jay said. “I’m not interested in being yanked around, I don’t give a damn how worried you are about the fish. I’m not even going to put my face near the water.”

With deep misgivings, Dan hurried up and followed behind Jay. “It’s, um, door seven. The exhibit you want.”

“Thank you,” Jay said, sounding legitimately a little bit surprised. “Appreciate it.”

“Don’t expect a repeat,” Dan said. “And I will be warning them about you later.”

Jay hummed, pushing through the door slowly. Beyond, they could hear the pump and the water splashing.

Jay bent down by the side of the tank, reaching out with one hand. “This is going to look strange.”

“Everything you do looks strange,” Dan started, but he was right—it did look real fucking strange. The palm of his hand… uncoiled? Rippled and widened? And from the inside came slightly luminescent blue tendrils, about a half-inch wide each and visibly very soft, and slick with some sort of fluid with the consistency of honey, or maybe laundry detergent. He stuck these into the water without a worry, and then said, not too loudly, “Hey. Up here.”

Abruptly Dan remembered the lures. “You have those inside you? You feed them to the fish!”

“Sometimes they’re hungry,” Jay said.

“What are they, worms?” Dan asked. “Some sort of… fungus?”

Jay looked up from the water to squint at him. “Are you trying to fuck with me? Like, is that a joke?”

“What?”

Jay reached over with his normal hand and grabbed one tendril firmly, and then pulled. Hard, actually, hard enough that Dan thought it looked like it had to hurt, and then with a quiet squelching sound a small octagonal segment of his gray skin pulled free from the side of his hand and so did the tendril, still moving freely. “It’s me. I feel like that should be obvious, if the fish were reporting on me to you. That one bass got a good mouthful of my leg a few months ago.”

“What are those?” someone else said, and Jay and Dan both jumped and turned to see that there was a small nursery shark staring up at the both of them. Dan wasn’t terribly familiar with her, but he thought her name started with an s sound, or maybe an m. “Can I eat them?”

“Sure,” Jay said.

“They make fish sick,” Dan said quickly. “Better not.”

“They make fish sick?” Jay repeated. “They shouldn’t. Just drowsy, maybe.”

“Dizzy and sick, is what they told me.”

Jay looked down at his own hand curiously. “So, I’m Jay.” He said it oddly again. Maybe Dan was mispronouncing it. “My friend here is Dan.”

“Danistei,” Dan said, because he gave his real name to the fishes, thank you, and then registered that Jay had said his actual name.

“What’s your name?” Jay continued, as though nothing had happened.

“Svisa,” said the nursery shark.

“Nice to meet you, Svisa,” Dan started.

“We’re delighted you’ll speak to us,” Jay continued, coming very close to cutting Dan off. “I have a couple questions about the environment.”

“Oh, like he’s always asking,” Svisa said.

“Probably,” Jay said. “Do you know what your environment is a replica of?”

“It’s a replica?” Svisa said.

“It’s a replica of a human classroom,” Jay said, rapid-fire. “Thank you, Svisa. What do you think of the lighting on the side of the wall?”

“Oh, he really is always asking that one. It’s fine.”

“You come here from anywhere interesting?”

“Not really,” Svisa said.

“Captive-bred,” Dan cut in. “Svisa, are you bored?”

“A little bit,” Svisa said. “Nothing left in here to catch, and I know all the hiding places. When it’s light out, I can watch the other tank, but they’re dimming everything now.”

“They’re dimming everything,” Jay repeated. “Okay, Dan, up, let’s get out of here before we get caught.”

“Caught,” Svisa repeated.

“We’re not technically supposed to be back here right now,” Dan explained hastily, getting up. “Thank you so much for chatting, Svsia. Jay, was that what you wanted to know?”

“One last question,” Jay said. “How dark are the hiding places?”

“Dark enough,” Svisa said, delicately closing her jaws on a big chunk of Jay’s exposed tendrils. They sheared off cleanly, and started to leak thinner, less viscous blue fluid into the water; Jay rapidly curled them back up without even a hiss. “You’re leaving, I’ll see you some other time.”

“Me, maybe,” Dan muttered. “Jay, if she gets sick, I’m holding you to account for it.”

“She should be fine. It’s like weed,” Jay said. “Bye, Svisa, thanks for talking. Might see you again, might not. I’m curious about the way it feels down there. Dan, hitting the road?”

Dan sighed and followed behind Jay, and the two of them stepped out of the tank room and then into the Employees Only hall and then back into the rest of the museum. It was dim. “What time is it?”

“You have a phone, don’t you?” Jay said, but he was pulling his own out as he said it. “Eight ten.”

“They closed up fast,” Dan noted, a little surprised. “I wasn’t expecting them to kick everyone out and turn the lights off ten minutes after the event ended.”

Jay shrugged. “Maybe they’re just efficient. Let’s make sure they didn’t lock us in.”

They hadn’t, so the two of them walked out the doors and tried not to look suspicious. Or at least Dan tried; Jay looked casual as anything, sauntering out confidently.

“Stop looking over your shoulder,” Jay murmured out of the corner of his mouth, and Dan straightened up. “No, that’s worse, you look even more like you’re sneaking into the pantry to steal cookies or something. Do you just not do this sort of thing?”

“No, I don’t,” Dan said.

Jay paused. “Why were you messing with me so much, then? Starting out strong for your first few bits of mischief?”

“I,” Dan said, trying to wrap his head around that. “It was about the fish. It has always been about the fish.”

“But you had to know I wasn’t going to go after the fish in a new aquarium,” Jay said, sounding almost stupefied. “Right?”

What? “What? No.”

“If I’m going to an aquarium, there’s going to be close monitoring, people around,” Jay said. “And it’s not like they’re filling, anyway. Obviously I’d just go pick someone off in an alley beforehand, if it was that big a deal.”

“I told you, I don’t like you eating the wild fish either,” Dan said. “But I guess—”

“Fish?” Jay repeated. “No, I mean—” And then he stopped, and turned to gesture Dan toward an alley. “Come take a detour with me.”

“What do you mean, not fish?” Dan said, following easily.

Jay looked Dan up and down, still walking. The alley was longer than Dan expected. “I know you said something, at some point, about the ‘patterns,’” and here he made air-quotes with his fingers, “of the way that I ate the fish being ‘creepy.’”

“Yeah, because they are,” Dan said. “I mean, I might’ve been judging you wrong, but it still seems real fucking creepy to me. I don’t really get—”

Jay raised a hand and cut Dan off. “And I read into that, I think. I thought you meant the patterns I ate everything with were creepy.”

“I mean,” Dan started. “I don’t know.”

Jay smiled oddly, waving for Dan to walk a little faster. “And I thought to myself that that was fair, because you were right. And I didn’t know how much you’d told anyone, or how much trouble I’d be in if you had.”

“Jay. What are you getting at.”

“Fish are very unsatisfying, you know.” Jay sighed. “They don’t have much to talk about. Their secrets are inconsequential and not very interesting. And, now, I have a problem, the kind you’re not likely to have heard of. “

“Where are you leading me?”

“You’ll see,” Jay said. The alleyway had gotten so dark that it was difficult to make out anything except for the points of light reflecting off his eyes from the distant billboards on the street. “I need a secret—given freely—before I can eat my fill. Makes it had to order off the dinner menu. Told myself, hey, hospice care, that’s got to be the gig for me. But it doesn’t leave me a lot of time to hunt. So I’ve been scavenging the fishtanks. But do you know what one of the first things you told me was?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dan stopped walking.

“This explains why threatening you didn’t seem to do anything,” Jay said. “Did you even know I was threatening you?”

“When the hell were you threatening me?”

“That’s what I mean,” Jay said. “I’m full, now, I’m not eating anything. Or anyone. But you know what I’m getting at, don’t you?”

Dan shook his head. “You eat fish, and you’re implying you’ll eat me.”

“About the gist of it, yeah,” Jay said. “Keep walking, we’re going to get to the bus stop a few blocks early. I didn’t want to take you through here if you already knew I was likely to maybe eat you. Didn’t need that kind of thing getting me in trouble, you understand. You cannot do anything about me, but if you decided to start running and screaming it would’ve made my life inconvenient.”

“Are you,” Dan said, trying to find the polite term for it. “Are you a… person with a vamparasitic affliction?”

“Am I a what?” Jay said. “Vamparasitic affliction? Can you not say vampire now?”

“I think it’s offensive,” Dan said.

“If I were a vampire I wouldn’t be offended,” Jay said. “But no. I’m an obligate carnivore under a curse, but it’s a different one. You’ve seen me walk in the sunlight.”

“Can you eat garlic?”

“I can’t eat any plants.”

Dan could start to see the lights at the end of the walkway now. “Why do you eat people, if you can just eat fish?”

Jay looked at Dan for a moment, and despite the low light Dan thought he could see Jay’s needle-sharp teeth glinting in a very sharp smile. “Why does anyone prefer to eat anything? Just tastes better.”