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acapelladitty · 1 day

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NSFW Alphabet: Cooper Howard

Summary: A full NSFW alphabet for Cooper Howard/The Ghoul from Fallout (2024).

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pretends that he's not needing anything after sex but actually loves it when his partner wraps themselves around him like a second skin. Won't ever admit to it, but the way his arm snakes around to pull them even closer is hint enough to his real desires.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Likes his hands because they're quick and dexterous, and can justbas easily gut a gulper as they can seek out and tease a clit. Not much pride in his own appearance aside from that. He's also a tit man and the pillowy softness of them is so opposed to his own body that he only enjoys them more, usually with his mouth as much as his hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Sterile as all fuck, he can do what he wants with his cum and it makes no difference. Enjoys the taste and likes oral because of it. He does love for his partner to hold onto his cum though, either by swallowing or by pushing it back up their holes with his fingers. They earned it so they're going to keep it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has experimented with his new abilities as a Ghoul in some interesting and intense ways. Usually pushing the edge of pleasure and pain as he tests his own limits. His leathered skin is less sensitive than most so he's spent some of his more boring nights doing things to himself that would have a normal man in fucking hysterics.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows his way around a hole that's for sure. He slept with one or two folks before Barb but he was pretty monogamous after that despite the sleaze of his acting career. He and Barb did share a very healthy, vibrant sex life and he was eager to experience new things with her but nothing too outside of the 'vanilla' realm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Seated with his partner riding his lap like any good cowgirl should. The close skin-to-skin contact, plus the easy access to their chest, makes it a firm favourite as he's generous with his tongue and teeth. Plus, it lets him enjoy their facial expressions and hold some eye contact as he drinks in their pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Never 'goofy' is a daft sense but isn't above using filthy talk and double entendres while cracking a wicked smirk. Lots of word play around his status as both a cowboy and a monster and he likes to remind his partner of BOTH of those facets of his personality.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Look at the poor cunt 😭 he's a great big baldy bastard with nary a pube on him. The only hair he has are the follicles that fall off the folk he occasionally scalps.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Surprisingly romantic given how gruff and generally detached he is, but only with a romantic partner. A random fuck gets a casual pump and dump while sex with a partner has some meaning for him and he likes to feel his partner close and ensure that they have a good time with him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not at the top of his priority list in the grand scheme of things. If he's feeling horny then he'll deal with it and leave the mess splattered on the ground where it fell.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Roleplay is a kink of his and he would be at his happiest role-playing a very traditional "cowboy saves a damsel and she's looking to repay the favour" type scene. His most 'out there' kinks include a mild touch of erotic cannibalism, ropework, and dom/sub dynamics relating to discipline and cnc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Strong enough to make any vertical surface a viable spot for a fuck, there are very few areas that Cooper can't turn into a good spot for sex. His preference is for a bed though because he can be a lazy fucker when it suits him but that's an indulgence he's very rarely afforded.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Very easily motivated if he can sense his partner is down for a rough tumble in the sheets. All he needs is a WHIFF of a chance of hole and he'll be rubbing himself across you like a cat in heat. Hand straight to the groin like it was magnetic.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing his partner? Oh no. He'd fucking kill any third party before they could do anything too untoward. He's jealous as hell and volatile with it as he claims so little in the shithole that is the wastelands. Will threaten to tie his partner up and leave them for the raiders and beasts but that's just a horny threat.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

One leftover from his previous life is his love of giving oral. His wife loved it and he loved receiving it in equal measure. However, with things as they are, he'd rather get his rocks off in warm hole when the opportunity and time arose.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Normally? Fast and rough. However, in the quieter moments when the sun hangs low and he feels relaxed enough to enjoy some time with his partner, he takes great pleasure in some slow and sensual sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Due to his circumstances, quickies are often the only option for some hole so if he and his partner are frisky then it's as and when the potential arises.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think choosing to fuck someone in the wastelands automatically qualifies as a considerable risk. But, yes. He's fond of risk and it's something that he'll continue to push and push until he's satisfied.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ridiculous stamina. The kind of stamina that will have smoke pouring from your hole if he's not careful lol. As a ghoul, his skin is slightly desensitised so he can go for longer but usually only lasts one good round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really a big fan of toys (finds his cock and mouth MORE than capable thank you VERY much) but will use easy-to-access objects like his lasso and knife for some kinky play.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only teases when it's a game he's playing. Most of the time, he's looking for some quick, rough action that he and his partner can enjoy in their limited, quieter moments. In terms of vocal teasing? He's very quick to spout off with some sleazy promises and demands.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tries to be very controlled but does have a tendency to grunt and growl a lot which makes him more animalistic than vocal in terms of his speech when he's fucking someone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Cooper would like to eat a little bit of his partner if they were willing and had the bit going spare. Most of his meals are a necessity but to have a willing offering would be quite erotic and a big deal for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is the same shade as the rest of his skin but with a slightly deeper tone in his cockhead. Very average length but on the girthier side with a slight lean to the right when he's fully erect. No pubes, obviously.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Makes a lot of inappropriate comments and touches which would have you believing that he's constantly looking for some tail. That's only true because he tends to be hornier in high-stress situations which, unfortunately, is most of the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't sleep much and there's something possessive in him that makes him happier watching over his fucked-out partner as they sleep rather than sleeping himself.

#top shagger lads lmaoooo #cooper howard #fallout #fallout 2024 #fallout amazon #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #fallout ghoul #ghoul x reader #walton goggins

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 13 all chapters

-Later that evening he picks you up near your hostel in a gorgeous wooden water taxi. You’d gotten more than a few odd looks from the scruffy backpackers hanging out in the courtyard, as you’d exited in your chic new dress and heels. You wonder if you look utterly ridiculous, until you see the way John looks at you. There is a heat in his dark eyes that could burn the city down, and you flush all over, knowing the evening hasn’t even begun and you’ve already soaked through your new silk panties.

He waves away the driver, lifting you down by your waist into the boat. It surprises you, and you cling to him, though you never feel for a second that he might drop you. The strength in his arms is unyielding as an oak.

He’s changed into a black suit for the evening, and he’s so fucking handsome you could die. When you’re settled in the bench seat in the back of the boat he lifts his arm for you in invitation, and you nestle in. The night air is a little chilly once the boat gets going, but you are pressed to the long lean length of John’s side, and he keeps you warm. He drives you a little crazy, drawing slow circles with his fingertips on your bare arm.

You go to dinner, and it’s everything you’d hoped and feared. The light is low, the food is delectable, the wine is good, and Mr. Wick is the very picture of dark temptation in the candlelight. He is charming, and sweet, and he touches your fingertips lightly with his from across the table. You always knew he had a wry sense of humor, but loosened up with an aperitivo, he is downright funny, and you find yourself laughing at his comments with purest joy.

You brought that leather-bound notebook from Florence in your new little handbag. When you present it to John he cradles it in his big hands like you have gifted him with something made of pure gold, his dark eyes shining like high-polished mahogany. He looks at you with a tenderness that makes your knees weak, and you are glad you are already sitting down.

“I know it’s not much…” You feel a little sheepish suddenly, thinking about what he spent on you earlier that day.

“I love it,” he assures you adamantly, and tucks it into his inside pocket, where it will rest over his heart. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hands across the table again, and as if you weren’t gone enough already, you feel yourself steadily, inexorably, falling in love with this man.

Afterwards you go for a walk. He smiles down at you, amused when you stumble on a raised cobblestone, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“I think you are a bit drunk, Miss y/n,” he teases you.

You like wine, but you don’t drink it often. You’d had half a bottle with dinner, plus a negroni aperitivo, and a digestivo of grappa after dessert… Yes. Yes you are, and maybe it will hurt in the morning, but right now it feels wonderful.

“And whose fault is that?” you fire back with an insouciant smile, winning real laughter. The rare sound warms you to the bottom of your soul.

“Guilty.” He’d ordered the drinks, after all.

There is a mischievous sparkle in his jet-black eyes, and you think maybe he’s a bit drunk too. Or maybe it’s just this fucking country, that’s so goddamn romantic. You’re not sure why that annoys you in that moment.

You pause on a bridge, and he reaches up to lightly touch your hair, sweeping it behind your ear, tracing the curve of your neck. It’s almost like he’s petting you, and you cannot help but close your eyes.

Is this man finally going to kiss you?

A small, feral sound escapes you with the thought, and you are too tipsy to be embarrassed about it. It makes him smile knowingly, and now you think he might actually have an inkling of what he’s been doing to you.

You do not know it, but over your shoulder, John sees a suspicious shadow move in an enclave in the distance. He does not like the look of it at all.

“I should probably get you back to your hostel.”

You stick your lips out in a pout, mildly infuriated and currently lacking any healthy inhibitions.

“Are you really going to make me tell you how much I want you, Mr. Wick?” What an effective truth serum a good chianti makes. Your hands find his tie, pulling him closer towards you. He lets you, of course, until your bodies are nearly pressed in a line.

It’s almost enough, but not quite. Never quite, it seems.

He lowers his forehead to rest on the top of your head, and you sense that he is coiled tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the effort of holding himself back. You can feel it in his hands on your sides, as though he can’t decide if he should pull you closer, or push you away.

“Do you?” he asks, his voice gone low.

“As if you don’t already know,” you grouse petulantly. There is a part of you deep down that knows, as you look up at him, that you are pulling the tail of a tiger. You just don’t possess the self-control at the moment to stop.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s hard to read you,” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability, which you find utterly absurd.

“Hard to read me? Mr. Tall Dark and Broody? Mr. Hot and Cold? Mr. I’ll Take You Out On My Bike For The Ride of Your Life on Your Birthday Then Barely Speak To You?”

Again, he laughs, though this time there is an edge to it. He frames your face in his big hands, and you know he could crush you if he wanted, but you still cannot suppress a sigh. You crave the strength in those hands on you with every fibre of your being.

You’d let him pull you apart, so long as he promises to put you back together again.

“Sweet girl…my love is a curse. I don't want to hurt you—but I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

It almost sounds like a warning.

You pause at that, listening to your heartbeat pounding in your ears. There is a hint of darkness in that sentiment that would have scared you a little, had you been in your right mind. As it is…you are too far gone, and you are desperate to have it all out at last.

“Are you talking about your wife?” you dare ask, your voice hushed as though she could overhear you. Maybe she can. Maybe her spectre would have the mercy to let this man who still walks among the living go. “John…she got sick, and that is not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head slowly against you, his long fingers sliding into your hair, tightening at the base of your skull.

“You don't understand.”

He has you firmly in his grasp, and it sends the most delicious thrill down your spine, right to your loins. You can’t help but squirm against him, closing that distance at last. The line of heat between your bodies pressed is maddening, and you marvel that you can think at all.

“I'm trying to.”

“I know.” There’s something in his tone that cracks your heart in two, and you find you are afraid. You’re afraid that he still might backpedal on you after all, after all this, and you’re not sure your heart will survive it.

“Please don’t let me go?”

He tilts your head back, in full control of you. You do not fight him, too entranced by his mouth hovering over yours.

“Remember that you asked.”

You don’t get the chance to formulate a response, because at last his mouth presses to yours, and you forget everything but the feeling of his soft lips and the tantalizing intrusion of his tongue. You would have surged to meet him, but he holds you immobile in his strong hands, taking you just the way he wants you. Yet you are a greedy thing, and your fingers seek the flat planes of his chest, running over the muscled contours beneath his jacket, up the column of his neck to grab fistfuls of his soft hair, the way you’ve craved practically since the first time you laid eyes on him.

You fancy you almost hear it snap, when at last you manage to break this man’s iron-clad self-control.

Or perhaps it is you, your fragile body, that makes an audible pop when he grabs you up in those strong arms, his fingers digging into your waist as he practically lifts you from the ground in the desperation his ardor. You meet the fury of his kiss with a matching passion, with lips and teeth and tongue, so caught up in the whirlwind that you entirely forget where you are, that you’re in public, that you’re probably not alone. The focus of your world narrows to the single pinpoint that is him, and maybe it’s been that way for you for a while now.

It’s over all too soon, when he tears himself away, breathing heavily in the bend of your neck. You make a small sound of protest, needy for more of his delectable mouth, and he nips your shoulder, maybe hard enough to bruise. You jump with surprise, but you don’t exactly mind the feeling of his teeth in your skin, as though you are something sweet he wishes to devour.

In that moment you reckon you would let him eat you whole, and lick the bones clean.

You are aware of it this time, when he lifts his head to look beyond you, his hawkish gaze sweeping the shadows beyond. It seems like he’s worried about something. But you are wrapped up in his arms, tucked perfectly against his larger body like you are puzzle pieces finally found—you feel as though nothing could possibly touch you.

“I should get you back,” he says, his voice pure gravel.

“I don’t want—”

“Don't fight me, y/n.”

He uses a tone of voice you've never heard from him before. It is hard as granite, utterly forbidding, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. Feeling this change in you, he sighs and kisses your forehead in apology. “Come on.”

Slightly comforted, you let him lead you with your hand in his, though you still feel more than a little unbalanced, and not because of the height of your heels on the uneven paving stones, or the tremor in your limbs from that hurricane of a kiss.

This man…

You are not sure what unsettles you more. The whiplash of his mood, or the fact that you’re not sure you wouldn’t follow him to the depths of Hell anyway, so long as he held out his hand to you.

#here it is lovelies <3 #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #yandere john wick x you #yandere! john wick #yandere #yandere john wick

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 9 months

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Part 4 - Show me those issues

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 3

"Show me those issues, how you've been misused. Yeah girl, I'm with you." -Train Wreck by Divide the Day.

Previously on The Regent:

It wasn’t as if the Pit Madness could just be gone, right?

Right? (Jason Todd was no fool, the Madness was still there.)

(Just… sedated. Like it didn’t need to boil to the surface anymore where it concerned his murderer.)

And for the first time in a very long while, Jason felt like himself again.

Until the agony began.

In a strange synchronized motion, both Jazz and Danny twisted their bodies towards the spirits who began screeching in the air between the two, ghost speak intertwined with screams of the damned, demanding the Regent and the Prince help the Robin.

“Broken Robin, bloody bird, help, help, help. Agony, pain, corruption”

Danny didn’t hesitate for a moment to transform into Phantom, calling over his shoulder for Jazz to bring her last few pure ecto vials along as he phased out of the apartment.

Jazz sighed heavily as she unlocked the safe in her bedroom, three vials remaining within. All the supply the Regent had left for the month, until Wulf was able to deliver more.

In any other circumstance, Jazz would have refused to hand over something so vital to her health- escpecially since she was burning through her ecto-levels acting as a vigilante and a Regent, with frequent travels to the Infinite Realms to work on paperwork and attend Council meetings.

However, Jazz felt the tugging in her chest, the instinct that she had to give up her ectoplasm for the agonized Robin. And she was not one to ignore such strong instincts.

Vials tucked safely into her bra, Jazz summoned her ecto-sword with only a thought and cut into the air, opening a portal in the between to take her to where the spirits demanded she go.

Jazz stepped through after a heavy sigh, bones feeling as if they were filled with cement.

No rest for the wicked after all.

Danny had already arrived ahead of her by the time Jazz stepped through her portal, fussing over what seemed to be the local unfriendly neighborhood vigilante, Red Hood, without his signature helmet and sweating green droplets profusely.

Oh.

So that’s how she’d been sensing him. He’s got ectoplasm in him and (by the rancid scent lingering in the air) corrupted at that.

“Did he go swimming in the Realms sewer?” Jazz asked, half-seriously as she willed the portal closed behind her and leaned her sword against a wall before pulling out the vials of pure ecto.

Danny struggled to laugh at her attempt at humor however, chirping and warbling at Red Hood’s prone form. Jazz offered the vials to her little brother, “Will these flush out the corrupted ecto?”

He didn’t answer her, poking at Hood’s chest plate, a warble of worry-horror filling the air.

“Danny.”

Jazz reached for her proto-core (tucked behind her heart) and chirped back with concern-worry-resignation.

Which worked to get Danny’s attention and he snapped his focus to her, “Jazz, give him the pure stuff! He’s starving!”

Oh again.

In Hood’s current state, could he swallow it on his own?

No, he couldn't. He'd likely choke on it or spit it back out on reflex. One of them would have to administer it by mouth.

Jazz sighed heavily before she uncapped the first vial and tipped its contents into her mouth. The familiar battery-acid taste was heavy on her tongue as she tried not to reflexively swallow it in her hunger.

(She tried to ignore how her heart raced.)

Jazz leaned over Red Hood's prone body, gently carded one hand into his hair, and set the other onto his throat before she pressed her lips onto his own.

To stay in my shadows you must aid my Knight, Regent.

Of course, My Lady.

I speak of the one born in my streets and unburied in my soil, hidden under Red.

The Red Hood?

The Once Bright Light of Gotham, unavenged. Care for him and he will care for you.

Frostbite had been quite shocked at their sudden arrival to the Far Frozen with Red Hood in tow. Jazz’s sword made quite an entrance after all, and Danny’s choice to drop hood’s sweating and shivering body into the Yeti’s arm was enough to get him into motion.

“Great One, Regent.” The Tribal Leader greeted them as he turned on his heel with his cargo firm in his grasp.

“Hey Frosty. Gotta doozy for ya.” Danny quipped with some warmth. Being in Realms again seemed to cheer him up ever since the move to Gotham, even if it wasn’t a common occurrence anymore.

(Jazz kept him far away from the Observants since taking the crown.)

(Nosey one-eyed bastards.)

“Hi Frostbite.” Jazz offered her own greeting as they followed behind the Yeti into the tribe proper.

It had been some time since Jazz had been into the Healing tents, but Danny had always enjoyed Frostbite’s company so he easily maneuvered his way around the equipment and tables towards the sectioned off beds in the back, which were Yeti sized and easily dwarved Hood’s own six foot brick house frame.

Frostbite hummed as he examined his new patient, having heard Danny explain their treatment thus far of Hood.

“Great One, you were correct in this regard. Red Hood was dying of Corruption due to ectoplasm.”

“But?” Jazz proded.

“His proto-core has accepted the pure ecto and has begun to stabilize.”

Both siblings breathed a sigh of relief. That was good news, especially to hear of a new Liminal that could survive Gotham- means Hood was a survivor in more than one regard.

“However, there is something more concerning…” The Yeti trailed off, a soft growl left in the wake of his words.

“Frosty?”

“Pardon me, Great One. It seems that Red Hood’s proto-core isn’t ice-based, it needs warmth.”

Danny, despite the seriousness of the situation, laughed at Jazz’s resulting blush at Frostbite's words.

(Oh I can keep him warm.)

Not to mention how she they had gotten the pure Ectoplasm down his throat to begin with

“Regent?”

Jazz sighed and answered the Yeti, “I can offer him my warmth until he can be returned.”

Frostbite pondered for a moment, “Ah, yes, the Regent has a Fire-based Proto-core. That should do well.”

(Danny had laughed himself sick when it had come to light that Jazz was his opposite in core too.)

(Fire and Ice)

(Hero and Villain)

With a passive glare at her now-chuckling little brother, Jazz approached Hood’s bed and carefully climbed in alongside him.

(She did her best to block out how her body wanted to curl into him, grasp onto him and never let go.)

Turned onto her side away from him, back pressed to his form, Jazz forced her body to relax and let her natural warmth seep out from her core into the vigilante at her back.

(Little did Jazz know that she would cuddle him in her sleep.)

(And that a pesky younger sibling would coo and take a few pictures to save as blackmail.)

Jason dreamed.

He dreamed of his mother, the good days when she would read to him softly and wrap him in her arms.

He dreamed of late night patrols with his dad, tucked under his cape when he wanted to feel safe.

He dreamed of a red haired woman who kissed him softly, held him gently, and… chased the cold away.

Why had he been so cold?

Why was his heart aching?

It wasn’t supposed to ache.

He wanted his dad.

He wanted his books.

He wanted his dream woman to kiss him again and tell him her name, just so he’d have something to hold onto when he woke up.

(If he woke up.)

A/N:

Alright, part four! With a glimpse into Jason and Jazz's natural bond as, well, maybe... soulmates? Who knows. I'm a sucker for that trope.

If you want a spoiler for what's happening to Jason, check out the original prompt!

And make sure to subscribe to the master list when it's created.

#dpxdc #jazz fenton #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #jason todd #danny fenton #Regent!Jazz Au #Regent!Jazz #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason

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nanabansama · 6 months

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Twin Power

In Chapter 108, when Tsukasa tells Nene that Amane won't be able to answer her calls for help right now, Nene tells him to try by harnessing his "twin power."

Now this is silly!! Nene, don't you know twins don't actually have powers in real life? Tsukasa also not knowing what she's talking about is so precious, omg.

Buuut... what if he does have some kind of communication power linked to Hanako?

Despite Nene calling out to Hanako several times...

...he only comes when Tsukasa whispers something, presumably Amane's name! (For more on this, see this post.)

Now, this is really interesting, because Tsukasa is positive that Amane wouldn't answer his calls. And I think that is true--normally, Amane wouldn't.

Except, who was the person that stole his assistant away again...?

And this isn't me trying to disparage Amane, of course! It's obvious he cares about Tsukasa a lot (must we forget what being a yorishiro means?) but he would never just ignore Nene's calls while answering Tsukasa's.

Especially when Tsukasa indicates he's been ignoring his calls for a while now.

Now, while I'm sure that Hanako showing up to save Tsukasa right when he calls could just be for dramatic effect... what if Nene was actually onto something?

What if Tsukasa has some sort of psychic connection to Hanako, perhaps related to him being his yorishiro?

And what if Hanako has been ignoring him the whole time?

WOULD THAT BE FUCKED UP OR WHAT?!

The indication Tsukasa makes that he was stuck somewhere (maybe Hanako's boundary?) and had to free himself without Amane's help makes this all the more upsetting.

I just think that, on top of the very real fact that Hanako has been ignoring Tsukasa's cries for help, the idea that Hanako can't even tune them out is... pretty awful, don't you think?! It almost makes me hope that's not the case, for both their sakes.

...The fact that Tsukasa can stay so upbeat in spite of this makes it easier to stomach, though! What a guy. ♡

Anyway, I could just be reading too deep into things, but I personally believe AidaIro has a wicked sense of humor and that little "jokes" like this often have more meaning than we give them credit for. But let me know what you think!

#toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #yugi twins #analysis #theories #hanako kun spoilers

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thisblogisaboutabook · 5 months

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

Azriel x Reader - Fluff - One Shot

While getting over a breakup, a performer in a Velaris tavern catches the attention of a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Alcohol, Implied hook-up

The notes flowed effortlessly through my fingers onto the ivory keys of the tavern’s antique piano. I’d played the song more times than I cared to admit over the past several months yet the angst of it had yet to be lost on me.

Tonight was particularly lively as the High Lord and Lady’s inner circle made their way into the tavern. One of the nicer pleasure halls in Velaris yet not as alluring as Rita’s, which was closed this week as they install an updated dance floor and modernize the bar’s serving area.

Once word spread of the prestigious guests, a plethora of onlookers flowed in the front doors. It had been a while since the bouncer actually had a line to attend to.

Attendees made requests, many tunes of a more risqué variety in hopes of a sultry dance against THE Morrigan. Who could blame them? She was lovely. Not in a soft and gentle way - but in a powerful, warm, seductive sort of way. Those that didn’t want to be with her, wanted to be her. Males and females alike tried and failed to get close enough for a dance but she stayed close to the remainder of the inner circle on the dance floor, so lost in the music that she hadn’t even noticed the desire flowing around her.

The Shadowsinger had also come out tonight. Though he evaded the dance floor, guarding their corner table diligently. An emotionless, bordering cold stare plastered on his face as he monitored the place. Ever the watchful friend, ensuring nobody stepped out of line. Many patrons gazed from afar, whispering words of encouragement as to who could work up the nerve to approach. The more brazen guests going as far as to take a few steps closer before being put off by his intimidating presence without him even making eye contact with them.

After a recent break up - recent putting it lightly - it had been months but who was counting? I’d taken to spending my weekends in this tavern. One evening, after far too many shots of liquid courage, I began playing on the piano while singing raunchy limericks and catchy tunes I’d picked up over the years during my travels through Prythian. Despite his odious reputation, some of my favorite limericks came from the High Lord of the Spring Court whom I’d never met personally. The poems coming in slurs from drunken participants of the Great Rite many years ago, the Calanmai where I met my former lover.

We’d connected instantly - literally and figuratively - and spent several wonderful years together. Until, damn the cauldron, he found his mate earlier this year. What are years together in the face of fate? Fate having a wicked sense of humor. How lucky for me that his mate dwelled in the city that I had introduced him to, MY city. They’d come into this very tavern shortly after the breakup, kindly leaving just as abruptly they came in. A futile effort of sparing me the heartache. Truthfully, he wasn’t a cruel male. He didn’t know I played here - and I didn’t hate him. But I resented it. All of it.

Which lead me to the song I was currently belting out at this piano. The song I’d written immediately after arriving back to my apartment that night, whiskey in one hand, fountain pen in the other.

“…And you're sitting in front of me at the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right.

I, I could feel the mascara run. You told me that you met someone, glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

Help, I'm still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt, cross-legged in the dim light

They say, What a sad sight"

Despite the angsty, brooding lyrics, the tone was catchy and very easy to move along to. The more frequent patrons of the establishment had come to know this as a staple in my evening set, belting out the lyrics right along with me.

The song was my closing for the evening as I packed up, ready to head out. One of the attendees brought a glass of my favorite whiskey to me, nodding to the beautiful brooding male at the Inner Circle’s table.

Interesting.

I nodded a thank you with a brief raise of my glass to the Spymaster, as a little shadow swirled around my wrist with a gentle tug in his direction.

Who was I to turn him down? Aside from a steaming bath and smutty novel, I had nothing waiting for me to return home.

I casually strode to his table, giving a little smirk before sitting in front of him. Licking my lip before raising the glass to my mouth, lifting an eyebrow as I locked eyes with him.

“I didn’t realize Spymaster involved sussing out a lady’s drink of choice.”

A cool, bemused expression settled on his face as he took a sip from his own glass. “While my skill set is quite impressive, I asked the attendant for the bartender to send you a glass of your favorite.”

“I see. Well, thank you.” I replied, giving him time to continue the conversation or bid a farewell.

“You wrote that song.” He stated, not a question. Spymaster indeed.

For emphasis, I threw back a large swig of my liquor. “I did. Did you like it?”

He met my gaze with a contemplative glean in those hazel eyes, “Yes, no. Yes, the song was good. No, I did not like the truth behind the words. It felt too… relatable.”

I ran my fingers back through my hair letting it loosely fall back into place, and sighed. “Looks like we’ll both need another drink then.” Turning to the nearby attendee and signaling two fingers.

Two drinks turned to three, and four, by the end of the night we had laughed, one-upped eachother on who was unluckiest in love, and I was practically in his lap as we boisterously toasted a cheeky “Damn, the cauldron!” to which a nearby couple audibly gasped. We both muttered quick “apologies” turning away as we muffled our laughter into each others shoulders. He graciously sent the pair a shot with our next round of drinks.

The place started clearing out as the lights brightened and the keep yelled out a last call. Both of us hesitant to call it a night as we stepped into the brisk cold. “Walk me home, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel. Call me Azriel.” He smiled. “I actually have something better in mind. Join me for a night cap?” He extended a hand.

Holding my hand out to squeeze his reassuringly, I replied, “Y/N. I’d be delighted.”

He eagerly swept me into his arms and darted into the sky, aiming for the House of Wind. The city lights quickly fading into twinkling stars.

Our pulses fluttered with anticipation as I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. When I pulled back to meet his eyes, he gave me a mischevious grin and briskly swooped down then back up. I flicked his nose to which he laughed, tilting his head downward to plant a kiss on my forehead.

I finally left the restaurant…

And my dress on his bedroom floor.

#azriel #fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #fanfic #one shot #sarah j maas #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #taylor swift

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venbetta · 5 months

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Pyrophile! Freddy Headcanon

This was a headcanon I came up with months ago based on the fact that Freddy burned down the Pizzaplex in that one ending... no Michael Afton/Glammike stuff

Small tidbit: When the glamrocks are first manufactured, I can see them having a similar intelligence level of a five year old.

Since they're AI, the intelligence level increases the more they experience things.

During his preliminary run before the Pizzaplex was set to open, Freddy was very curious about things like the others were

When Freddy discovered that he had a lighter in his finger, that was one of the few things he fidgeted with.

It went from flicking the cap to actually igniting his finger and watching the little flame dance

He could stare at that for hours

Of course, the techs don't think anything about that. They just think it's just a little harmless program quirk he has

They would have Freddy light up candles just to test out the function, Freddy would get a kick out of it every time

He thinks fire is relatively harmless, as he's only lit up candles

He's definitely showed off his little trick to Chica, who was also very intrigued by it

All is well until Fredy gets too curious and sets fire to one of the plushes in a giftshop

He watched the fire spread and was both startled but amazed

Of course, when the entire gift shop is set ablaze, the real issue became obvious, and Freddy realized that he did an oopsie.

While no one got seriously hurt, Freddy learned that fire is pretty dangerous and shouldn't be played with

That didn't stop him from liking fire, though

The techs put a safety measure on his lighter to make the fire less imposing (and not like a mini flame thrower)

Freddy still likes lighting candles in his room and watching the wicks burn

Freddy developed a sense of humor with fire puns (they were not in his original programming)

Every time there's a mini fire in the kitchen that he ends up missing, he gets a little bummed. He has to ask how big the fire was (after making sure everyone was fine...)

He loves pyrotechnics. If there's a chance for cool fire effects during a performance, he would ask for it

He's always delighted to light up a birthday cake if no one has a lighter

Freddy has come in contact with fire fighters before and has asked them many questions about not just the job but some anecdotes.

Freddy found out that stars were essentially tiny gaseous balls of fire, which blew his mind

Freddy would stan Smokey the bear

Freddy would be a fire safety advocate

... that's the post.

Have this doodle I drew months ago...

#glamrock freddy #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb headcanon #its so silly #...hes a little pyrophile #the bot yearns for the flame.

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alwaysonthemend · 11 months

Text

A Night of Revelry | JTK

Author's Note: Here it is! My second GVF fic! This one got away from me a little bit and ended up a lot longer than I meant it to be. But oh well, Jake just has that effect on me. Again, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

Summary: The boys are finally back home on a hiatus from tour and are enjoying some much needed rest and recovery. A dinner party at the Kiszka's house leads to you and Jake admitting some long kept secrets to each other. A night of revelry, indeed.

Content Warnings: mentions of being drunk, fingering (f. receiving), hand jobs (f. receiving), p. in v. sex, unprotected sex (ya'll know better!) swearing, dom Jakey (yes, that's a warning) 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4544

Preview:

“Since you want to cum so bad,” Jake says with a dangerous smile gracing his lips, “you’re going to come over here and ride my thigh. And I’m going to sit here and watch as you make yourself come apart. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

But as you started to spend more time with him, you discovered that he wasn’t always that quiet. When he’s around his brothers, or Danny, or other close friends and family, Jake has a wicked sense of humor that can have the whole room clutching their sides with laughter. His dry sarcasm and witty rebuttals are unmatched – even by Josh. Not only is Jake hilarious, you soon discovered, but he loves to talk if it’s about the right subjects. He’ll talk for ages about films he likes or dislikes, or he’ll go on rants about things he reads, or podcasts he listens to. And of course he’ll talk for ages about his music. His eyes light up when he’s excited about a topic, and in those moments, you can see the same animatedness and excitement that his twin has.

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From the very first moment that you met Jake, the man had been an enigma. He was quiet – content to allow others to fill the silence for him. At first, you’d mistaken his reservedness for shyness. But as you got to know him, you found that he is by no means a shy man. He’s quiet, sure. But he’s confident in himself. Confident to dress as he wishes and to like the things he does without a care in the world. From there, you had assumed that his quietness must be a result of growing up in a household with Josh. Josh loves to talk and you had figured that Jake was simply allowing him to do so. And for a time, that was that. Jake was the moon to Josh’s sun and was simply content to let others fill the silence for him.

The first time you saw Jake play on stage, you saw yet another side of him that you had never seen before. Seeing him up on that stage changed something in you. He commanded attention. From the way he threw his head back as he played to the way he muttered under his breath to his guitar, everything about the man oozed confidence and sex appeal. You’d gone into the show with a growing crush on him, but you left completely head over heels for the man. Time passes, and you only find yourself more and more in love with him as the days go on. And as much as you want more than just friendship, you figure that it’s best to keep your burgeoning feelings to yourself. Jake is a sweetheart – always showing you kindness whenever the two of you hang out. But he’s so out of your league it’s almost funny. He’s a goddamn rockstar, for goodness sake! He could get just about any woman in the world if he really wanted to and you’re fairly confident that out of all of them, you wouldn't be the top choice.

There are times when you think that maybe, just maybe, he might have feelings for you too. He’s always so attentive to you when you spend time with him – remembering little things that you tell him and always seeming to know when you’re having a bad day. And every now and again he brushes his fingertips over yours when he hands you something or his hand will ghost over your waist when he passes. But you try not to linger on those moments too much. He’s a gentleman who always makes the people around him feel at ease and you realize that it’s just the way Jake is. He’s too kind for his own good (and your own good) so you do your best to push the feelings down.

It’s nights like this night, though, that make crushing those feelings down so difficult. Tours are on a temporary hiatus and the band members are back home for some much needed R & R. And tonight, Karen had invited all of the Kiszka siblings, Danny, and several other family members and friends over for an intimate night of stories and spending time with one another. Dinner had been loud and exciting – as all meals with the Kiszkas are, and now the guests are all intermingling amongst themselves as the sun sets into night. Some are inside, polishing off the dessert and staying out of the summer heat. Others are gathered outside around the fire, sharing stories as Jake and Sam gently strum on their guitars. Naturally, you find yourself gravitating towards where Jake is. You’d just spent a good 30 minutes talking inside with Danny about whether Kurt Cobain actually wanted to kill himself or if he was just trying to get away from Courtney Love (you favor the latter), but now you’re feeling that familiar tug in your chest that always stirs whenever you’re away from Jake for too long. There’s a part of you that’s embarrassed for how attached to Jake you’ve become. You’re independent and consider yourself to be a fairly rational individual, but there’s something about Jake that makes all that fly out the window. You want – no, you need to be close to him. He’s gone so much during the year and you miss him like a limb that’s been chopped off. His absence aches with phantom pains and you figure that you deserve the reprieve of spending time with him while he’s here.

You take a seat in one of the empty lawn chairs next to him and he gives you a small, private smile, before turning back to Ronnie as she tells a story. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol and his dark, wide brimmed hat lies discarded at his feet. You tune everyone out, and instead allow yourself to watch Jake’s fingers as he plays the guitar. No matter how many times you see and hear him play, his talent never fails to make you feel all warm inside. He loves his music, and his playing reflects that love. It’s like he’s sharing a piece of himself with you all – and you’re thankful that you get to hear it like this. He’s beautiful. That’s the only word you can think of to describe the way he looks right now.

“You alright?” He asks, noticing the absent look in your eyes.

“Hm?” Your eyes snap up from his hands to his eyes. “Oh. Ya, I’m good. Just tired, is all.” You can feel your cheeks grow hot as there’s no way he didn’t see you staring at him.

“Too much alcohol, darling?” He laughingly says in his fake British accent that he’s so fond of.

“Yeah,” you laugh in relief, thankful for the easy excuse. “Drank a little too much wine, I think.”

He smiles and immediately you feel at ease again.

“Happens to the best of us.” He says wistfully, back in his normal accent. “I myself have also partaken a little too much tonight.”

“You?” You gasp dramatically, “Jacob Kiszka drinking too much? I’m shocked.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“I know. It’s not like me at all.”

You both turn your attention back to the rest of the group as Josh stands up and dramatically tells a story about something or other, though you still are entirely too aware of Jake’s presence next to you. He puts his guitar down and helps himself to another generous glass of bourbon as the night goes on. The night bleeds from too late into too early and you feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to cloud your thoughts. You stopped drinking a while ago and your buzz from earlier in the night has all but disappeared. You stare into the fire, the warmth from the flame coupled with the voices of your friends lulling you into a relaxed trance.

“Care to join me for a smoke?” Jake asks, startling you from your reverie.

“You know I don’t smoke.” You scold him lightly.

“I know.” He says, rising from his seat and extending his hand towards you. “Join me anyways?”

You nod and take his hand, allowing him to lead you around the front of the house to a more secluded area. From here, you can just barely make out the voices of the others as you round the corner out of eyesight. Jake leans back against the house and turns his face up to the sky. He looks painfully beautiful like that. You swallow and look away.

“Thought we were coming over here so you could smoke.” You say, following his line of sight up to the sky.

“Changed my mind.” He shrugged, turning to look at you. “Come next to me.”

You pin him with a confused stare but comply. You walk over and lean your own shoulder against the house, careful to leave space between the two of you.

“I’m glad you could be here tonight. I missed you while we were gone.” He’s looking back at the sky now and you take a moment to watch him. His cheeks are still flushed and his hair is pulled back in a loose bun. You don’t respond for a moment, carefully choosing your next words.

“I’m sure you missed being home with all the craziness of being on the road.” You finally say. “I’m glad you all are back. It gets boring here without you guys to cause chaos.” You laugh, looking back up to the sky.

Jake turns to you suddenly and grabs your arm.

“No, seriously,” He says, staring at you in the moonlight. “I missed you.”

You turn to look at him and he’s pinning you with that stare that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you – seeing every single thought that runs through your mind.

“I missed you too, Jake. More than you know.”

He lets go of your arm, seemingly content that the urgentness of his words were heard.

“I hate having to leave you here when we go,” he says, “I miss you so damn much.”

You turn to look at him and he does the same, his dark eyes locking with yours, You don’t really know how to respond. Hearing him say that to you makes your heart flutter in your chest. But you’re wary, too – wary of reading into his words wrong. That little spark of hope rears its head and it’s all you can do not to lean over and kiss him right then and there.

“I hate it too, Jake.” You whisper, afraid to speak into whatever it is that's just taken place between the two of you. But before you have time to process what’s happening, Jake presses his soft lips to yours. You’re so stunned that you don’t kiss him back and he pulls back wide eyed.

“I’m sorry.. I- I don’t know why I did that without asking first. I-” His eyes are filled with embarrassment and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

“It’s okay, Jake.” You interrupt him.” I just don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret in the morning.” You take a breath to try and steady your heart rate as Jake stares at you.

“So, you didn’t kiss me back because you think I’m too drunk?” He asks slowly, seemingly trying to process your words.

You sigh. It hurt before, but hearing him say it out loud made the sting all the more painful.

“Yes, Jake. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose our friendship over a drunken mistake.” There’s a small, hopeless little part of you that wants to say ‘fuck it’ and kiss him again anyway – even if he’ll regret it in the morning. Because deep down you know that this is the last chance you’ll ever get. You shove the little voice down.

“We can just act like this never happened.” You assure him.

“And what if I hadn’t been drinking before this?” He asks. “Would you have done the same?”

You purse your lips and look away. The pain of this whole situation is settling into your bones, heavy as lead.

“It doesn’t really matter, Jake.” You say honestly. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, it isn’t real.”

Jake looks at you and his eyes carry a hurt in them that you’d never seen before. You want to look away – run away even, if it meant that you wouldn’t have to see that look in his eyes again.

“I know it’s real, y/n. I may have been drinking, but it hasn’t given me feelings that weren’t already there.” He lets out a shaky breath. “The bourbon just gave me a little more courage to do something about these feelings.”

Your mind is awash with thousands upon thousands of thoughts and feelings. Hope, excitement, disbelief, fear; they all swirl through your mind so quickly you can barely catch hold of any of them. The thought that he might have feelings for you feels absurd. He’s Jake fucking Kiszka. It’s too good to be true.

“You promise me?” You beg, practically shaking with all the emotions running through your mind. “Please, Jake. I can’t take it if this is just you getting caught up in the moment.” And it’s the truth. If this isn’t real, you doubt you’ll be able to survive it.

“Answer my question first…” He says, stepping closer to you. “If I hadn’t been drinking and I kissed you, what would you do?” Jake’s eyes are shiny in the moonlight – his expression open and hopeful.

Oh, fuck it.

“I would kiss you back.”

“Oh thank fuck.” He says, before crushing his lips to yours again. This time, you don’t hesitate to reciprocate, opening your mouth and allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. You feel dizzy with excitement and disbelief. You’re making out with the guy you thought you could never have and holy shit, it’s better than you ever dreamed it would be.

“I promise you,” he says in between kisses, “that this is real. Realer than anything I’ve ever known.”

Jake brings his palms up to cup your cheeks and you place your hands on his shoulders to draw him closer to you. The smell of bourbon and vanilla floods your nose as he presses his chest to yours. He pulls away and you let out an embarrassing whine. He stares at you – his brown eyes swirling with passion.

“Y/n,” he says quietly, “what do you want?”

You take a moment to drink in his appearance. He looks incredible with his hair pulled back. His trademark silver necklaces rest against his collarbone and his cream colored dress shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his stomach. There’s a glisten to his skin from the summer heat and you’re struck with the sudden desire to taste its saltiness.

“I want you to touch me, Jake.” You plead.

He gives you a smirk and his eyes dance with mischief and excitement.

“Come inside. My room.” He laces his fingers with yours and the two of you slip inside, completely unnoticed by the merry crowd outside. You skirt around the kitchen where everyone else still resides and you both bound up the stairs to Jake’s old room.

Stepping into Jake’s old room feels personal. You’ve been in here before, but it still feels like you’re seeing something you’re not supposed to. The walls are covered in music posters, with artists from Cream to John Lee Hooker. The room smells like Jake – if a little faint, and several old guitars sit leaned against the wall. You stand in the middle of the room, suddenly overwhelmed.

“Y/n?” Jake asks, coming to stand beside you as he places a warm hand on your shoulder.

You look at him, taking in his beautiful features in the darkness of the room. The only light source coming from the moonlight spilling through the window.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern replacing the desire that had filled his eyes just moments before.

“Yes, of course! I just-” You trail off, unsure how to put your feelings into words.

“Y/n, I swear that I’m not that drunk. I’m a little tipsy, for sure. But I know what I want. I want you.”

“I want you too, Jake. I do. This all just,” you wave your hands in a vague motion between the two of you, “this all just doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent so long thinking this was never a possibility and now I’m just a little overwhelmed to be honest.” You look down at your feet. This is all just too much to process in such a short amount of time.

Jake walks over to his bed and takes a seat, gesturing for you to do the same. You follow, sinking down heavily beside him.

“Look at me.” He says, placing his index beneath your chin to turn your face towards him. “Why can’t you believe that I want this?” He asks, a small hint of a smile ghosting his lips.

“I just never thought that someone like you would be interested in someone… like me.” You say honestly.

Jake furrows his brows at you.

“Someone like me?” He grins and you can see the spit on his lips glisten in the dark. “Is it because I’m a rockstar? Super famous? Thousands of screaming fans all across the globe?”

You scoff and nudge your shoulder into his playfully.

“Not helpful at all. But yes, I guess so.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. Your body is thrumming with nervous energy.

“I’m not sure what I can say to convince you that I want you, y/n.” He says into the dark, eyes trained on the wall opposite the two of you. “I’ve always been drawn to you. Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you talk about things that excite you…” He turns to look at you now, his expression soft. “But this last leg of the tour, y/n…It was worse than usual. I missed you so damn much. I couldn’t ignore this any longer.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” His eyes are full of truth. You see no lie in them. “Tell me if you want to stop, y/n.”

You nod and allow him to push your back into the bed. He grips your thighs and spreads your knees apart before settling between them. You reach behind him and pull the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall freely to his shoulders. He chuckles and kisses you again, much softer now than before.

“Let me show you how real this is.” He whispers.

“Please, Jake. Whatever you want.”

That seems to be all the permission he needs as he swiftly lifts your shirt above your head before sliding your skirt down your thighs. You reach out with shaky fingers and undo the few buttons that he had bothered to fasten, and you slide his shirt down and off his shoulders. Jake attaches his lips to your neck, leaving warm kisses down your throat. You moan and paw at the belt of his pants, desperate to feel more of him against you.

“Patience, love.” He laughs as he unhooks your bra and throws it to the floor. “I want to make you cum first. We’ll get to me later.”

He dips his hand into the waistband of your panties and slides them down. You kick them off as they pool around your ankles. Jake brings a calloused finger to your pussy, swiping through the wetness gathered there.

“So wet…” he purrs, “All this for me?”

“Only for you, Jake. Only for you.”

You whine as his talented fingers begin to circle your swollen clit, just the way you had always imagined him doing when you watch him play guitar. He keeps his pace slow, teasing you and drawing out your pleasure.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this, y/n?” Jake asks as he begins to pick up his pace. His fingertips are rough, but the friction is so good you can barely think straight.

“I dream about this pussy all the time – I dream about seeing you like this, all desperate and needy, and I wake up so hard it hurts.” He sinks his middle finger into you slowly, while his thumb continues in lazy circles on your clit. He crooks his finger inside you, brushing against your walls in a way that makes you arch your back in pleasure. He smiles, and slowly inserts his ring finger into you as well, pumping in and out of you slowly.

You whine and buck your hips up to meet his hand, desperate for more. The sound of his voice, gruff with lust, is sending shocks of arousal straight to your core.

“Jake, please,” you beg, as he curls his fingers inside you, “stop teasing.”

He laughs lowly but doesn’t give you anything more.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.” Your voice is shaky and comes out in practically a whine. “Stop teasing. You already know.”

“Wanna hear you say it. Wanna hear those filthy things coming out of that pretty mouth.”

He’s unrelenting in his teasing. You’re so close, but he won’t give you that last bit that you need to finally snap the coil building in your belly.

“Please, Jake.” You moan, “Need to cum so bad. Need you to make me cum.”

He grins and you think that he’s finally going to give you what you want. But he doesn’t. Instead he sits up, pulling his fingers from you, and leans back on the headboard, leaving you laying there confused.

“Jake?” You ask as you sit up, feeling the wetness of your pussy leak down between your thighs.

“Since you want to cum so bad,” he says with a dangerous smile gracing his lips, “you’re going to come over here and ride my thigh. And I’m going to sit here and watch as you make yourself come apart. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod, breathless. You crawl your way over to him and swing one leg obediently over his thigh. You can see his cock straining in his pants and your mouth waters at the sight. Next time, you know that you want to taste it. You slowly ease your aching pussy down onto his leg and roll your hips experimentally, dragging your clit against the fabric of his pants.

“There you go, sweet girl.” Jake praises. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingers hard into your flesh. He’s looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You roll your hips again and start up a steady pace, the friction exactly what you needed. Jake slides one hand up to your breasts, circling and pinching at your raised nipples. His other hand stays where it is, solidly gripping your ass and keeping you grounded as you ride his thigh into oblivion. You quicken your pace as he mutters encouragement under his breath and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, and you moan his name loudly as you ride your way through the pleasure. You slip off from him and collapse onto your back next to him.

“Jesus Christ, you look gorgeous like that.” He says as he rises from his seated position. “Such a needy, desperate little girl, aren’t you?” He says as he unbuckles his belt and slips out of his pants. He leans over you and brushes a strand of your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear – the softness of the gesture a stark contrast to his dominant words from before.

“Kiss me.” You say, not at all embarrassed by the neediness of your request.

“I’ll kiss you a thousand times if it’ll make you believe me when I say that you’re the only woman I could ever want. I want you, y/n. More than anything else in my entire life.”

“I want you too, Jake. Since I met you, I’ve wanted this. Just never thought I could have it.”

“Well, you have it.” He says, brushing his lips over yours. “You have me. And now I’m going to fuck you just to prove it even more.” He pulls his boxers down his hips, allowing his hard cock to spring free. You gulp. He’s big – bigger than anyone else you’d ever seen.

“On your hands and knees, sweet girl.” Jake says as he pumps his cock a few times. You comply and groan loudly as he sinks his length into you slowly. He bottoms out and pauses, allowing you time to adjust. The coldness of his necklaces on your back feel good against your heated skin.

“Move, Jakey. Need you to move. Now.” You say as you press your face into the pillow.

Jake grasps your hips firmly and begins a brutal pace, pistoning his hips into yours. You moan loudly as he groans into your ear.

“God, you’re so fucking tight, y/n.” His thrusts are fast and hard, rocking your entire body forward with each one. He feels so good you can hardly even think straight. All your thoughts are entirely consumed with Jake, Jake, Jake.

“Don’t stop, J. ‘m so close.” You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching and you start to rock your hips back to meet Jake’s thrusts. He wraps one arm around your belly, pulling you tighter to him as he picks up his pace even more. Your face is buried in his pillow, desperately trying to muffle your cries from the other occupants of the house.

“Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?” Jake asks, as he drops his hand to circle your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Jacob!” You wail as you finally cum, legs shaking as it tears through you. Your eyes are watering and your vision whites out from the sheer pleasure. Jake’s thrusts are erratic, desperate.

“Say it again, y/n. Gonna cum in your tight, little pussy.”

“Jacob- please.” You moan at the overstimulation and that’s all he needs.

“Oh fuuuuck.” He groans as he spills inside you, breathing ragged in your ear.

He pulls out of you, and you collapse to your stomach, utterly spent.

“Stay there, sweetheart.” He mutters as he rises to get a wet washcloth. He returns quickly and you roll onto your back. He cleans you up softly, careful on your abused clit and pussy. He hangs the washcloth on his nightstand and crawls into the bed next to you. Placing a kiss to your forehead, he pulls the blankets up and over the both of you.

“That was… incredible.” You sigh, exhaustion hitting you like a brick wall. You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

“You’re incredible.” He says quietly, voice so soft compared to before. “I meant what I said, you know?”

You glance up to look at him. He’s got that look in his chocolate brown eyes again – the one that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you.

“There isn’t anyone else that I would rather be with than you, y/n. It’s not just about sex, as incredible as that was. I want you. As much of you as you’re willing to give me.”

You press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“I believe you. I want it all with you, Jake.”

He huffs out a small laugh and kisses you again.

“Thank fuck.”

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes and nuzzling into him. “My rockstar.”

You miss the adoring smile Jake gives as you fall asleep.

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x you #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #dee's writing

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shintin · 6 months

Text

The Wacky Widow's Woes

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Comedy one-shot

Summary: In a twist of fate, the most obnoxious person on Earth, Gojo Satoru, appeared by your hospital bed. Clearly, the universe had a wicked sense of humor.

Word count: 5k.

Genre: comedy, fluff, yapping (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: humor, no angst, whipped Satoru Gojo, bitchy reader, a lot of jokes about chapter 236 of the JJK manga (my personal healing process), mention of Kitkat, prepare for Gojo's nauseating love for his wife, who's probably sick of him.

Notes: I hope you laugh your ass off while reading this.

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

On a very, very, very dull autumn afternoon, we find ourselves in a hospital room where its fancy ass curtains are just letting in enough sunlight to cast a gloomy, eerie glow.

There, on the bed, lies a woman who seems to have become one with the medical equipment—or, better to say, a high-tech octopus. Wires and tubes sprout from her body like overgrown vines, connecting her to an orchestra of beeping machines. It's like a twisted version of a modern art installation, where chaos and order collide in a symphony of medical mayhem.

The woman, blissfully oblivious to the cacophony surrounding her, snores away, blissfully lost in dreamland. It's almost comical how she manages to find solace amidst the tangled wires and the chorus of beeps. One might wonder if she's dreaming of a magical place where the cables turn into candy canes and the machines play cheerful tunes instead of somber heartbeats.

The lighting in the room sucks, perhaps to match the mood or new architectural ambiance design. For fuck's sake, who knows! Shadows dance across the walls, conspiring with the flickering fluorescent lights to create an atmosphere that's equal parts unsettling and strangely fascinating.

As if to bring a touch of irony to the scene, a sad excuse for a vase sits on a nearby table, barely holding onto life. Its wilted flowers, once vibrant and alive, now resemble a bouquet of autumn hues gone horribly wrong. It's a symbolic reminder that beauty is fleeting, just like the woman's health, and that even in the darkness, there's a twisted kind of beauty to be found.

The room carries the unmistakable scent of sterile cleanliness, mingled with a hint of despair. It's the kind of smell that makes you want to open a window and let in some fresh air (read jump out), but alas, in this hospital room, fresh air seems like a distant memory.

Well, hold on to your hospital gown because here's a plot twist for you! Picture this: you've been envisioning this serene hospital room, reading it in all its autumnal glory, and guess what? The woman lying on that bed, surrounded by beeping machines and tubes, is none other than... drumroll... you!

Yep, you're the star of the show, ready to wake up and face your second stroke. But hey, don't worry, it's not going to be as boring as your room décor. No, no, life has decided to throw you a curveball and add a dash of excitement to your hospital stay. Who needs a peaceful recovery when you can have a stroke sequel, right?

So get ready to jolt awake and embrace the chaos! Remember, even in between unexpected events, a good sense of humor can be the best medicine. Laughter might not cure your condition, but it can certainly make the hospital experience a little more bearable. So, chin up, brave stroke survivor! Your story is about to take an exciting turn!

Well, well, well.

As you wake up from your beauty sleep, feeling as if you've been smooching a cactus all night, the machines around you decide to unleash their inner DJs with a symphony of beeps. How thoughtful of them to create an auditory masterpiece that grates on your nerves like a tone-deaf choir. Ah, music to your ears, right?

But fear not, the brave warrior of hydration! You are on a noble quest to conquer the desert that has taken residence in your mouth. Summoning every ounce of strength (and probably some residual grumpiness), you muster the strength to ascend from your pillow fortress. With your hand gracefully reaching out for that tempting glass of water, victory feels within reach.

Your hand hovers mid-air as if suspended by an invisible force, frozen in a moment of pure disbelief. Just when you think the universe couldn't possibly play a more mischievous trick on you, there he was—sitting on the couch like he owns the place—the one person you would rather avoid more than a clown with a pie in hand. Seriously, is this some cosmic prank show?

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but let out a little groan. It's like the universe is trying to test your resilience, throwing you into this hilariously uncomfortable situation. Oh, the irony!

You: Hell no! What the fuck are you doing here?

Right in front of your very eyes sits the epitome of style and charm—a man sporting a white shirt and black pants combo that would weaken fashion gurus at the knees. No sunglasses dare cross the path of this confident fellow, for his piercing ocean-blue eyes need no protection from the sun's feeble attempts to outshine them.

But wait, there's more! Let's not forget about his head adorned with fluffy white hair that could rival the fluffiest clouds. Ugh!

Satoru: Hello to you too, love!

He strikes a pose that screams, "I'm the king of this couch!" With one leg casually crossed over the other and his arms spread wide on the back of the couch, he's claiming his throne in the most nonchalant and hilarious way possible.

Satoru: Is this how you greet your beloved husband?

You: Fuck off!

With the speed of a ninja on a caffeine high, you swiftly pull the blanket up to your chest, fully aware that the hospital gowns offer about as much coverage as a single sheet of tissue paper. Yes, those flimsy garments are the Victoria's Secret of the medical world—barely there and leaving little to the imagination! And just when you thought the situation couldn't get any more entertaining, you catch a glimpse of his famous smile. Asshole! Is he peeping on you?

Satoru: Aha! The feisty spirit lives on! Missed your sassy attitude.

He grins like a mischievous little rascal who just stumbled upon a secret stash of dad jokes, except it's a porn website!

Satoru: And, of course, your perked-up nipples!

Summoning your inner grumpy penguin, you dramatically cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a glare that could make a grizzly bear retreat in fear.

You: well, Mr. White-Haired Head with a stinky smirk and eyes bluer than a bottle of Windex, I didn't miss you AT ALL!

Satoru: Why, oh why, did you dye your hair white if you claim not to miss me, baby? Is it some secret signal to the hair gods that you're ready to experience the adventure of life without my captivating presence? Or perhaps it's your way of channeling the wisdom of Gandalf and Dumbledore, hoping that your newly snowy locks will grant you magical powers to forget all about me?

You: Hold your horses, chatterbox! My hair has turned snowy white without any meddling from me. No, I didn't secretly sprinkle it with magic hair dye while cackling like a mischievous sorcerer, you idiot!

Satoru: Whoopsie daisy! You've got a point there. Did I accidentally step on your delicate feelings, wise and experienced grandma?

In a grand display of determination, you muster every ounce of strength to grab the pillow behind your back, preparing to launch it at him. Alas, it seems the strength of a thousand paperclips has possessed your hands, rendering them feeble and incapable of fulfilling your pillow-throwing dreams. The valiant effort leaves you gasping for air as if you have just completed a marathon of pillow-tossing.

Satoru: Yowai mo!

He erupts into laughter, showcasing his undeniable talent as a professional tease.

You: Cut the crapola! Spill the beans! What on earth has brought you to this neck of the woods?

With your firm tone that could rival a drill sergeant's, the machine begins beeping faster than a sugar-rushed hummingbird on roller skates. It's as if the beeps are making their best impression of a hyperactive jazz band, matching the frantic tempo of your skyrocketing heart rates.

Satoru: I'll be rolling on the floor in laughter if you drop dead from the sheer intensity of your anger, Granny. Let's be real; finding inner peace is way more beneficial for you in the long run. Just saying!

You: Satoru!

Satoru: Yep, that's me. Breaking hearts and taking names. Can't a poor soul like me simply pay a visit to my dear wife on her deathbed?

You: Hell to the no! You can't just waltz in our life whenever you please! Sorry, but you lost that VIP visiting privilege when you—

Satoru: Oh, and on that note, could that charming chick who graced you with her presence earlier be our beloved daughter?

You sigh, exasperated, and gently rub your forehead as if trying to coax that headache into submission. Ah, the joys of a headache that seems set on conquering you before any actual sickness does. With a dramatic sweep of your hand across your face, you channel your inner drama queen and then grab your neck.

You: Oh, please, for the love of all that is awkward, just tell me that you didn't try to work your "smooth moves" on her.

Satoru: I was this close to making a move, you know? She's like a spitting image of when I was head over heels for you! It's like you've managed to clone yourself or something. Should I be worried? Did you secretly stash away all my precious genes and hoard them for your own amusement? Well, I guess I can't blame you for wanting to keep all those sperms to yourself! But seriously, she doesn't look like me at all. I am hurt!

He pouts like a baby, forever stuck in his eternal state of immaturity, but you aren't about to let that deter you. With an air of defiance, you casually lean against the hospital bed board, gazing intently at the serum making its grand entrance into your veins. Oh, and that obnoxious machine chiming away? You can't help but wish it could just shut up.

You: It's actually better for her, you know. At least she doesn't have anything that serves as a constant reminder of her absent father, who couldn't even be bothered to be present during her birth!

Your words are like a sarcasm waterfall, cascading with vicious wit. You've mastered the art of tongue-in-cheek remarks, and while you're fully aware of their potency, you couldn't care less. It's like you've got a license to sass, and you're not afraid to use it, even if it makes the world say, "Well, ain't you a delightful ray of sunshine!"

Satoru: Let's not paint the picture as if I had some glamorous options! Nope, I was bestowed with the honor of being the designated problem-solver, the one expected to handle it all while gracefully tiptoeing through—

You: Oh, pretty please! If it's not too much trouble, continue your reign as the honored one through heaven and earth, while sparing me from any additional bouts of annoyance. I must say, it's quite the talent you possess—being both honored and a master of irritation. Quite the balancing act, I must admit!

As you clench the blanket in desperation, that rebellious needle gleefully plunges itself into your hand. Fuck unexpected pain! And there, decorating your arm like a chilling masterpiece, are the bruises—trophy marks from your encounters with the needle army. Who knew injections could become an avant-garde art form? With tears welling up and the air growing thinner, it feels like the room is leaving you gasping for breath just to have a twisted sort of fun. Bravo, universe, for your fucked up sense of humor! A standing ovation for this macabre spectacle.

Satoru: Love?

You: …

Satoru: Baby?

You: …

Satoru: My Wondrous Whipped Cream Warrior, the Caramel Crusader, the Sprinkle Spritzer, the Marshmallow Maestro, the Treat Tornado, the Sugar Rush Superstar, the Jelly-filled Joy Bringer, and the Sweetness Sorceress who turns my world into a Never-ending Dessert Buffet! The Honeyed Pussy of—

You: WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT, SATORU?

You are wheezing like a chain-smoking asthmatic, desperately gasping for air, and his attitude is about as helpful as a wet matchstick. You and the mysteries of poor life choices! What possessed you, in that twisted moment of madness, to willingly plunge into the depths of infatuation with him? It's a dark, twisted enigma that not even the Grim Reaper could decipher.

Satoru: Are you still mad?

As you tilt your head, there he is, looking at you with those big, blue eyes, like a lost poppy desperately trying to win the "Most Heart-Melting Flower" award. What a sneaky trickster! He knows exactly what he is doing, employing his secret weapon of irresistible gazes, and darn it; it works like a charm! You can't resist the powers of those eyes, and you reluctantly surrender, cursing his effective tactics while secretly admiring his diabolical brilliance. Well played, Mr. Blue-Eyed Mother Fucker, well played.

You: I never stopped being mad at you!

Satoru: Fair, but you have to know that—

You: Spare me the creative excuses, please! You pulled off the greatest magic trick of all—knocking me up—and then poof! You disappeared into thin air, leaving me with a growing belly and a bewildered expression. Good job, Houdini!

Satoru: You're welcome, baby. But you've got to cut me some slack here! My job description practically has "Accident Enthusiast" written all over it. It's not like I wake up in the morning, rubbing my hands together, thinking, "Oh boy, I can't wait for another mishap!" So, let's blame it on my occupational hazard, shall we?

You: Oh, well, then, thank you so much for gracing us with your presence again! You chose to go down that path because, of course, you believed you were the one and only capable being in the universe. And oh, how lucky we are that you decided to leave me and our daughter behind. It's truly heartwarming to see you saunter back into our lives after years like it's just another casual stroll in the park. I mean, who needs a father figure during precious moments like birth, first words, and first steps, right? Clearly, you had more important things to attend to. Our daughter has grown up and gone through school, and I've had the pleasure of explaining why her dad couldn't be bothered to pick her up like those "normal" dads. Graduation, dating, first job—she did it all without you, and we couldn't be more grateful for your consistent absence. Now you have the audacity to—

You start coughing, and each painful gasp feels like your lungs are being ruthlessly ripped apart, leaving behind crimson stains on your once immaculate sheets and hands. And there he stands, towering tall, as handsome as the day he first stole your heart. It's just not fair that he still looks so good while sickness has mercilessly drained the life from your weary soul. He approaches you, the lingering scent of vanilla clinging to him, a bittersweet reminder of what you once cherished but now resentfully long for.

Satoru: Take a sip of water. Do you want me to help you?

Oh, he's all worried now, isn't he? But honestly, after enduring all that post-him misery, you're not about to let him off the hook just because he's offering a glass of water. Come on, you might be a little dumb, but you're not "drink-water-and-forget-all-the-pain" dumb! Nice try, buddy, but you'll need more than H2O to wash away the mess you left behind.

You: I DON'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP! How about you kindly take a flying leap back to wherever you've been hiding all this time? I'm sure you've perfected your disappearing act by now. And don't forget to leave behind a trail of glittering resentment as you go, just to keep things spicy. Ta-ta, farewell, and may you step on a thousand Lego bricks on your way out!

Satoru: Listen up, partner in crime! I've had enough of leaving you to your own devices. It's been tough for me, too, and I sincerely apologize for piling on the hardship. But I learned my lesson! Starting right this very moment, I'm making a solemn vow never to ditch you again. Consider me your loyal sidekick, ready to tackle life's challenges together, even if it means enduring endless reruns of your favorite TV show or subjecting myself to your cooking experiments. We're in this for the long haul, love!

You use the sleeve of your flimsy, ridiculous gown to clumsily wipe away the blood from your mouth, all the while shooting him a perplexed look. Seriously, how on earth does he still manage to gaze at you with those doe eyes, all lovey-dovey, when you're rocking the vampire-on-a-sunlit-day aesthetic?

You: So, you decided to grace me with your presence just because I'm sick?

Satoru: Yes.

You: I see how it is! You're not here because you missed me, huh?

Satoru: Uh-oh, am I about to witness another round of your infamous anger? But hey, before you explode like a volcano, let me enlighten you that I didn't write the rulebook on how things work. Nope, not my area of expertise. Turns out, the universe didn't consult me when setting up the whole system. It seems they left me out of the committee meeting where they decided the rules of life. Classic!

You: Does it hurt?

Satoru: It hurt me badly because I snapped in half like a Kit-Kat bar. And no, there wasn't a delicious wafer filling in between, just pure pain and emotional wreckage.

You: Come on, Satoru! This is not the time for your quirky sense of humor. I mean, seriously, I saw your guts out in the open, and to top it off, ants decided to take a leisurely hike on them.

Satoru: TV producers really went all out with the graphic details, huh? Sure, I appreciate high-definition viewing, but did they need a close-up of my stuff? Talk about taking reality TV to a whole new level! I hope they provided a warning. Note to self: avoid snacking while watching shows that involve anatomical explorations!

You: SATORU!

Satoru: Alright, alright, no need to get serious! Can't a man crack a joke about his own death around here? Fine, I'll hold your hand during the whole thing. You know, I once spouted that cliché line about dying alone, but let's face it, that was a load of nonsense. Nobody goes down that final road solo. It's like a grand exit party!

You: Oh, really? So, you had some company, huh? Well, you know what they say: ignorance is bliss. I don't need the details, and my imagination can take a wild ride all on its own

Satoru: Jealousy looks good on you, love.

As he bends closer, his breath tickles your lips, making you wonder if he had onions for lunch. With a dramatic flourish, he grabs your chin as if auditioning for a cheesy romance movie. And then, like a vacuum cleaner on turbo mode, he plants a kiss that sucks the air right out of your lungs. It's like indulging in a dessert buffet filled with marshmallows, caramel, and insulin shots. Who needs a thrill ride at an amusement park when you can experience a sugar rush of epic proportions? You may be risking diabetes, but hey, at least you'll be leaving this world with a sweet tooth satisfied and an unforgettable, albeit comical, memory of that last smooch.

Unfortunately, after what feels like a fleeting eternity, he decides to break the kiss. As your eyes meet, you can't help but sneak a glance downwards, wondering if his pants harbored any surprises. Alas, it appears that either he's a master of disguise or ghosts have taught him their spectacular talent for concealment. Sneaky whores!

Satoru: Are you ready to go?

Oh, snap! Once the horniness fades away, reality hits you like a ton of bricks. Holy shit! How did you manage to forget about your daughter? Leaving her behind is definitely not the best parenting move. Time to snap back into responsible mode and give that little one the attention she deserves. Parenthood: where forgetfulness meets a reality check!

You: Will she be okay?

Satoru: She's our little munchkin. She'll be alright.

You: I want to see her for the last time.

Satoru: You can see her whenever you want.

You: WHAT?

He scratches his head, messing up his undercut, desperately trying to dodge eye contact like a game of social hide-and-seek.

Satoru: Ops! Did I just spill the beans on one of the perks of the afterlife? My bad! My master plan was to witness that priceless guilty expression on your face when we reached the pearly gates. Imagine your shock when you realized you blamed me for no reason, only to discover I had a front-row seat to all your shenanigans during all those years! Oh, the things I've seen! I know how many times you've touched yourself thinking about me! No judging, though! And yes, I know you secretly fumed when our little bundle of joy uttered "Dada" before "Mama." Don't worry, I won't tell a soul... except, you know, all the other souls up there. It's the ultimate celestial gossip!

You: WHAT? YOU KNOW EVERYTHING? THEN WHY THE FUCK YOU ASKED IF SHE'S OUR DAUGHTER?

Satoru: First, just to tickle your pickle. Second, as I cunningly planned.

You: You're still a brat!

Satoru: And you're still as beautiful as the day I lost you.

You: Smooth words, my friend, but let's not kid ourselves. I won't buy into any deceit. I'm old, wrinkled, and sick. Time and disease are killing me, just as you hated. Meanwhile, you continue to flaunt that glorious chiseled chest and those rock-hard butt cheeks.

Satoru: Thank you, ma'am, for keeping my ass in your thoughts. Speaking of which, I must confess I've made some boneheaded decisions along the way. Opting for death in the name of someone else can seem like a breeze compared to the complexity of choosing to live for them. So, kudos to you for being the badass who faced life's challenges to honor my memory.

You: I hope this is not just a dream.

Satoru: We can give it a try and see for ourselves.

As Satoru reaches out his hand, something extraordinary unfolds—the machine starts beeping. You look at the device, noticing that the time between beeps gradually increases. But then, your gaze shifts to your cherished spouse, the man whose absence has left an indelible void within you. The man with whom you would have fearlessly confronted doomsday on that fateful December 24th in 2018, had it not been for the fact that you were carrying his last trace of existence, a precious legacy nestled within your very being.

You: You feel so warm.

Satoru: Some things never change.

His hand gracefully slides towards your waist, triggering a chain reaction of chaos. Those pesky wires and tubes that were so dutifully attached to you? Well, they decide it's time for a break and go on a wild unplugging spree. It's like a rebellious dance party of freedom for those little connectors! And just when you thought things couldn't get any more exciting, your feet are about to touch the chilly floor, ready to embark on an unplanned adventure.

You: Hold up! Fetch my wheelchair for me!

Satoru: You don't need it anymore.

As you place your feet on the floor, you can't help but chuckle at the fact that your knees manage to hold up, allowing you to stand upright. The machines emit a continuous beeping sound, indicating a flat line on the monitor. Suddenly, the door swings open, and a troupe of nurses storm into the room. They swiftly gather around your motionless body lying on the bed. One nurse examines your vital signs, another administers an injection into your vein, and a third retrieves a machine to deliver cardiac shocks in an attempt to revive you. Witnessing these intense moments, you hold Satoru's hand tighter.

You: I don't want to come back.

Satoru: Are you sure?

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks as you gaze at him.

You: Yeah. I've spent more time living with your memory than I've had the opportunity to live alongside you.

Satoru's grip on your hand intensifies like he's determined to etch his touch into your very being. He lifts your hand delicately, planting a tender kiss upon it. Drawing you closer to him, he envelopes you in an embrace, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. With gentle affection, he presses a kiss upon the crown of your head, leaning his head upon yours.

As teardrops trickle onto your head, you find yourself clinging to him desperately, as if trying to hold onto the fragments of a shattered existence. In that agonizing moment, the harsh reality of his unfulfilled roles crashes down upon you like a relentless wave. He has endured the torment of being a husband bereft of a wife, a father denied a child, and a sensei forsaken his students.

Satoru: I will never let go of you anymore.

You: Is this just another one of those "oops, my bad" promises? You know, like when you swore to be to hold me for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?

Satoru: Heyyy! I held you till death do us part. I even remember, the night before my, um, grand finale, I held you so good that you had spread your legs, moaning my name and begging me to hold you harder.

Just as you are ready to break free from his grasp and deliver a well-deserved bonk on his clueless head, the scene takes an unexpected turn. Your doctor rushes into the room and towards your bed, barking orders left and right, and proceeds to administer yet another mysterious injection into your poor, defenseless vein.

Deciding to redirect your attention, you avert your gaze and catch sight of your reflection in the nearby window. To your astonishment, your hair has magically reverted to its former glory, defying the clutches of time. Wrinkles? Vanished as if a skilled magician performed a grand disappearing act. You're suddenly transported back to the good ol' days of youthfulness. Bewildered, you inspect your once-bruised hands, only to find them as flawless as a newborn's.

You: Satoru? What's—

Satoru: I know, right? It turns out one of the unexpected bonuses of kicking the bucket is that you get to rock your sexiest form once again. So, brace yourself because I won't behave when you sashay around in that gorgeous drop-dead gown. I can't keep it in my pants till we arrive and I start making cream pies and babies with you!

You: Oh, my goodness! Does it actually work in the afterlife as well?

Satoru: You're referring to my... um, dick? Let me tell you, it still has the same old magic, if not a little extra pizzazz! It's like a fine wine, aging gracefully and delivering peak performance in the afterlife. Who knew there would be such perks beyond the grave?

You: No, idiot! I mean babies!

Satoru: How should I know? I made sure to wear a condom during my frisky encounters with angels.

You can't help but release an exasperated breath, causing your ears to turn as red as a tomato in a sauna. The thought of giving him a good old-fashioned strangling and sending him off to the after-afterlife has you chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Satoru: Would it tickle your funny bone if I threw caution to the wind and played a game of "heavenly roulette" with unprotected encounters, potentially earning myself some out-of-this-world STD souvenirs?

With a masterful brow raise and a world-class eye roll, you are all set to deliver the ultimate "exit stage left" move. But he pulls off the ultimate surprise maneuver and hits you with the "Hold up, wait a minute" move. He has a secret superpower to freeze you in your snarky tracks! Goddammit! Those puppy eyes again.

Satoru: I was joking, okay? I just jerked off while watching your showering or self-exploration activities. I mean, fingering yourself while calling my name. That's it! Okay? Also, we should have a talk about that dildo you named Hollow Purple!

You: So, it seems you shamelessly watched everything, hm?

Satoru: Yes. Absolutely! I had a lot of spare time to slay, and, hey, let's not divert our attention from the Hollow Purple subject, you dirty little mouse!

You: God! Kill me already!

Satoru: Why? You're just itching to infiltrate the kingdom of my pants, aren't you?

You: You know what? I've had a change of heart. I'd rather try my chances with cosmic sickness than spend an eternity with your delightful company!

Satoru: Goodness gracious! You and your fiery temper! How on earth did you manage to cast a spell on me, making me fall for you?

You: It's common knowledge among our friends that everybody should bow down to your shameless expertise in the art of begging!

Satoru: Is that so?

He displays a smug smirk, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Satoru: Well, we can ask when we see them.

Your eyes go from their regular setting to full-on "wide-angle lens" mode, capturing the world in all its wide-eyed wonder. It is as if someone presses the "zoom" button on your peepers, revealing a comical level of astonishment.

You: They are there, too?

Satoru: Oh boy, buckle up for Nanamin's epic rage when he discovers our fashionably late entrance!

You: Well, chop-chop! Time to hit the road! We wouldn't want to unleash the wrath of the entire afterlife just because your chatty ass decided to go on such a long monologue!

He leans in and gently kisses your forehead, intertwining his fingers with yours as he guides you towards the door. As you both stand at the doorway, you cast a lingering gaze upon the nurses and doctor, who seem to have thrown in the towel on their attempts to revive you.

Satoru: I can't wait to spook everyone alongside you. You'll forever be my always.

Author's Note: I had an absolute blast writing this.

@enchantedforest-network 🤍

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sgiandubh · 11 months

Text

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

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atsadi-shenanigans · 3 months

Text

Valentine's Day Special

I did it! I got it finished! As a thank you to everyone who has given kudos and comments, and because Valentine's Day is coming up, here's a smuterific one-shot featuring: pegging, butt stuff, Astarion having feelings, Eleanor has dom tendencies she didn't know about, and Astarion getting nice things!

Rated a very, very E for smut.

Roses are red, violets are blue, blah blah I’d like to fuck you.

Or: Astarion bought a toy. Eleanor wants to give him a night he won’t forget.

“Legs up,” he says. “Pull your knees up. Better leverage.” You do. He leans back, bracing his hands on your knees. Moving himself so you hit his sweet spot ruthlessly. Another peek at you, pleasure painted over every line of his body. “Fuck me, Eleanor.”

The inn is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Two stories, shutters closed against the torrent, lantern light turning puddles and muddy streets golden.

You’re going to cry. Not that anyone will be able to tell in this storm. Poor Karlach has been hidden in a cloud of steam since the downpour began.

“Gods, I’m not taking another step unless it’s towards the front door of that inn,” Astarion says, voice pitched firmly into bitchy. “I am not slogging through one more minute of this filth.”

Filth being the inches-deep trough of mud the road has turned into. Y’all are coated up to the knees.

“A warm bed and a warmer bath would be nice,” Wyll says. And if Mr. Of-the-Frontiers “I’m used to sleeping on rocks” is saying that, you know everyone is thinking it.

“Fuck,” you say. Eloquent as ever. “We got gold, right?”

“Plenty,” Gale says. His hair keeps sliding over his face in rivulets of water. He looks like a sad, wet cat.

“Hope they got rooms.”

They have, in fact, got a packed-ass seating area, a handful of alcove bunks in a common area upstairs, and a single, small room with a modest bed (other travelers had the same idea when the storm hit).

Y’all’ve had a helluva day. Chasing down leads to some sort of bullshit or another. Half of y’all ain’t even here (Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Halsin, and y’all’s new friends had split off to go hunt down something else).

Which meant when y’all triggered a bunch of undead critters in the shitpile of some tomb, y’all had to do a lot more work to clean up. Astarion took the brunt of it after the two of you (again) got separated from the others.

He stands there, hair plastered to his skull, not an ounce of pink in his complexion (and looking grayer than usual). That’s when the idea comes to you.

“Y’all mind if me and Astarion take the room?” you say.

Ain’t no way to be subtle about it. They all know what you two are about. Especially since that goddamn newspaper came out (it wasn’t neither of y’all’s fault the fucking graveyard grounds keeper was a nosy sunuvabitch who both took his job way too seriously, and took off sprinting to the Faerun equivalent of a tabloid newspaper after catching a glimpse of you.) (You’d finished by then, which was probably the only reason Astarion hadn’t run him down and shut him up.)

They’ve known you two were a couple for a long while. They’d assumed you two had been physical for longer than you actually had been.

“Really?” Karlach says, still steaming. “After all this?”

Astarion says nothing, though his eyebrows quirk in mild interest. The bags under his eyes are more prominent, the color almost bruise purple. His eyes are duller. He looks more corpserific than he has in a while.

You started it, he seems to say. So you finish it.

“I just wanna take a bath and lay in bed, and all my clothes gotta dry,” you say. “We both’ve seen each other naked.”

Clever mischief glints in Wyll’s eye. He’s the most solid out of all of you’uns. The one with the most rigorous sense of morality. Usually plays the straight-laced folk hero.

But the man’s damned charming, and his genial good will hides a wicked sense of humor.

“All the bunks have privacy screens,” he says. “We’ll all be drying out our belongings.”

Gale says nothing. Just stares into the middle distance as he hikes up a section of robe to wring about a liter of water out.

Wyll makes a show out of checking out the common room and y’all’s fellow travelers. “In fact, I see other couples doing just that.”

“I’m not saying we’re gonna fuck, but if we do, you really wanna sleep right next to that?”

Wyll snorts and waves a hand, smiling. “On second thought, I think I’ll pass.”

Karlach pulls a face. “In public?”

“Y’all said they got privacy screens. And you didn’t have no problem walking around tits out during that heatwave.”

“Which beds did we get?” Gale cuts in. He used up even his much-improved magic capacity trying to get you and Astarion out of that fucking trap sinkhole. He can’t even do his presto-tation cleaning spell to dry himself off.

So you end up taking the key and heading upstairs, Astarion trailing after you.

Bath water is something you gotta pay for, in Faerun. The tub’s in the room, and you’re free to haul up however many buckets from the well outside yourself. But that’s a lot of buckets to drag up a flight of stairs, and the inn keep don’t let customers heat it up over the fire themselves.

So a good hour after you and Astarion settle in, you finally got a bath drawn and steaming.

“You go first,” you say.

Astarion sits on the bed in nothing but his drawers, wrapped in a blanket. He don’t get hypothermia—undead and all—but he does get real achy in the cold.

He gives you a small, tired smile, and lets the blanket (and his drawers) slide down.

You still ain’t super used to seeing a cock all bare. Not more than what your occasional forays into porn showed—so mostly just the part not currently buried in somebody. It hangs more forward than you thought it would. Also smaller than you thought it’d be (again, porn and both unrealistic standards, and flaccid ones are smaller).

You make yourself look away. But not before Astarion—ever alert and enough of a bastard to make that your problem—notices.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Where once that line would have been pure, silken debauchery, his voice is calmer when he’s alone with you, now. Still carries a flirty lilt (he always does with everyone), but with less performance woven through it.

“Just curious,” you say. “And I like watching you—not creepily, I mean. Anyway, if you want a bath and then the bed—for sleeping only—I’m down for that.”

“Mmm,” he says. Steps into the water and hisses. He eases himself down slow. Finally sits and all but melts against the wedge of the wooden tub, eyes closed and head tilted back. “Yet you requested this little love nest for us. And that cunning mind of yours always has at least three ideas fluttering around.

Said with a wiggle of his fingers around his temple.

He’s got a long neck. Stretched out like that, his adam’s apple stands out. As do his bite scars.

“We really can just sleep,” you say.

Now he cracks one, red eye open. Tilts his head to better peer over at you. Swirls his hand in the water as he waits for an answer.

He’s being patient with you. Says you’re patient with him, but you can count on three fingers all the people you ever actually wanted to bed, and none of them ever got that far. It’s not an ordeal for you to wait. You don’t have any expectations for him in that department (which you suspect had been a huge relief for him, and one of the reasons y’all’ve worked out).

He does so much for you. He’s helped you work through hangups you didn’t even know you had. He’s saved your ass more times than you can count, directly and not.

“If you wanted,” you start slow. “And you can say no at any point. But, if you wanted, I thought we could take a night and I could learn, um. We could learn what you like better. Just you. Or, well, me focusing on you.”

His idle finger twirling stops. He stills, both eyes open now and fixed on you. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Doesn’t even breathe.

Then his lips part. His words stutter and he frowns. Then, “You want to give me pleasure.”

Every word slow and enunciated. Not…trepidation, exactly. And not quite disbelieving. He trusts you, he’d said. He’s just verifying for the sake of both’ve you.

“I’m curious,” you repeat, so deliberate and nonchalant it’s borderline teasing.

“Pleasure me how?” Astarion says. Once again, flicking at the bathwater.

Aaand the rest on AO3 so tumblr doesn't slap me.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #feeding alligators fic #tavstarion #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #astarion smut #plus size tav #demisexual tav #slow burn #yes even the smut is slow burn #happy valentine's day #these two shitheads #two dumbasses #they're in love your honor

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angel-of-the-moons · 2 months

Note

I'm back again since it's been about a month since I last requested. I hope you don't mind me asking another story. So I was thinking of another Hobie one. There is honestly not enough stories about him and I love the way you write him. I was thinking of a more fluff type thing or possibly head cannons. You decide. Regardless about living with Hobie or just spending some downtime with him. Just a chill little thing I wanted to put out there. Thank you. I love your works and appreciate you 😘

Ilysm!!! I am sorry these asks have been rotting in my inbox! I'm finally working on them!!!

Ice Cream

Hobie Brown x Reader

TW/CW: Marijuana usage

Hobie is obviously aged-up in this

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

�� When Hobie isn't rocking out with his band at pubs, or fighting the regime™ or working to save the multiverse with the Old Man, he's at home with you.

• He often slips into the window because he refuses to use the front door like a normal person (even if you live on the fifth floor)

• Hobie would find you wherever you were, on the couch, in the kitchen, in bed or in the bathroom; and would immediately wrap his lanky arms around you and breathe deep and relax every muscle in his body

• "Where've you been?" You tease, easing his spiked vest off his stiffened shoulders.

• "Dealin' with the Old Man and his nonstop bitchin'." Hobie said, clicking his tongue, leaning over to rest his chin on the top of your head, holding you against him once more as you carefully ease the rest of his punk paraphernalia off of his person.

• You lead him to the bed, and pull him down on top of you, using your remote to turn on the sound system, playing some of his favorite music tracks on a low volume for background noise

• "You're a goddamn angel, y'know that, luv?" Hobie sighed, closing his eyes as he listens to the soft patter of your heartbeat

• "Mmh, I try." You chuckle, your fingers idly fluffing his wicks and toying with them as you feel his breathing even out

• And in no time, he's out like a light, sprawled out over you like a lanky starfish

• Forget moving this man, despite his thin physique he somehow finds the magic in him to weigh as much as his old, beat-up van

• You're stuck in bed, so the only thing left to do is give in and join him for a nap

• When you two wake up, you work on your usual routine.

• Hobie helps cook, making homemade chips while you batter and bake some fresh chicken

• Once your lunch/dinner is finished, you both cuddle on the sofa and watch some shitty movie on your telly

• He 100% has gutter humor, as well as a perverted sense of one

• Is also very big into physical humor. I'm talking shoving tissues into his nose and pretending to be a walrus kind of physical humor. Whatever it takes to hear you laugh

• Totally plays his guitar for you, singing punk versions of almost any kind of song (except American country. That shite is a travesty upon the music industry!)

• Will often split his pot with you, either rolling joints or using a bong, he'll always offer you a hit if you need or want it

• If you can't handle it, he'll FaceTime you while he smokes on the roof. That way, you're still together and he isn't negatively affecting your health/personal preferences with his smoking

• If you're sick, Hobie will full on hit the breaks to whatever he's doing to take care of you (provided it's a possibility that he can do that)

• This includes sending a selfie with a middle finger to Miguel telling him to not bug him til you're better

• 100% a master at making simple comfort foods when you're sick. Cheese toasties, chicken noodle soup, vegetable soup, even homemade ice cream. He does it all for you

• Runs you a nice hot bath with some eucalyptus and Epsom salts to help your sore muscles and clear sinuses

• If you're nauseous, he'll put peppermint oil in the water with you and run to the market for some ginger pop to ease your stomach, maybe some ginger root tea while he's at it

• Will also buy you some of your favorite digestives just to make sure you get something solid in your tummy

• Will totally fake threaten you about blabbing to anyone about his "secret soft side" and "ruining his image"

• Everyone already knows, he's just blind as hell and doesn't notice lmao

• This man is 100% loyal. If any gal/pal/guy flirts with him, he will flat out shoot em down

• "Nah, mate. I already got the best partner in crime a guy like me could ever ask for. Nobody c'n compare to that!"

• Always makes sure he never worries you (or at least tries to)

• If Hobie is sick or hurt, positions are reversed and you become his personal nurse

• Totally doesn't pretend to be sick sometimes just so you'll spoil him

• You know he's full of shit when he does though, but you just humor him because he's cute about it

• Yeah, you both put up with each other's shit, but you'd never have it any other way

• However... Hobie definitely knows when he's in trouble.

• "Hobart Brown!" You'd shout.

• Yeah, Hobie could easily feel his blood chill when you use his government name

#🌙 answered #hobie brown #hoboe brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie x you #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you

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oklotea · 7 months

Text

MY FAVORITE TINTIN SIDE CHARACTERS

ARRGRGWHDHEH I'M VERY VERY PROUD OF THIS I'M NGL!!!!!!! I LOVE THE WAY I COLORED THE CHARACTERS, I LOVE THE POSES I DREW THEM IN, I MADE SOME DECENT COMPOSITION IN THIS ONE!!!! HATE THE EDITING I DID I FUCKING SUCK AT EDITING

Anyway, I'm going to ramble about these guys and you can't leave until I'm done ok? Ok.

First of all, MY BOY MY SON MY PERSONAL LITTLE DEMON, ABDULLAH!!!!!!! he is very endearing to me!!! But I really do wish we could've seen more of him!!!! He looks mischievous enough to sneak on adventures along with the marlinspike crew himself for shits and giggles!!!!! HIM AND HIS DAD'S DYNAMIC IN LAND OF BLACK GOLD IS MY FAVORITE IT MAKES ME SO GIDDY AND HAPPY. like no matter how obnoxious and annoying Abdullah's pranks can become, his dad will forever love him unconditionally. MY FAVORITE DYNAMIC. I MISS THEM SO MUCH.

A little note, even though a lot of poc representation in tintin is pretty influenced by the stereotypes of the time, and a bit of orientalism, tintin and the land of black gold is also the first time in my childhood where the words "assalamualaikum" Was muttered in any piece of animated media. It definitely wasn't perfect, but that was important to me as a Muslim child. Maybe that's why Abdullah and his dad hold a special place in my heart!

Next up we've got ARREGEHFHFHHGHJ!!!!!!! CHANG!!!!!!! MY FRIEND FROM SCHOOL WHO HELPED END A CRIME RING IN SHANGHAI!!!!!!! I adore him and his personality so much!!!! HE WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS AS A KID AND HE STILL IS TODAY WHEN I REWATCH BLUE LOTUS!!!!!!!! The way that the moment he was saved by Tintin in that flood he pledged his undying loyalty to Tintin will never not be sweet to me. HE IS SO TALENTED AND CUNNING, HE SAVED TINTIN FROM CERTAIN DOOM MULTIPLE TIMES IN THE LITTLE TIME THEY'VE SPENT TOGETHER, AND IN TINTIN IN TIBET, TINTIN SAVES HIM ONCE AGAIN (Tintin in tibet is also a very memorable and special episode for me) AND JUST-- ARGEHDBEHF I CAN CONTINUE ON AND ON ABOUT HOW CHANG SHOULDVE BEEN INCLUDED IN MORE ADVENTURES!!!!! actually Tintin has TONS OF CHARACTERS who should have been given more important roles in a lot of different stories!!!! Idk maybe that's just a wish that will never be fulfilled.... Still I can dream!

And last but DEFINITELY not least... THE MILANESE NIGHTINGALE HERSELF, BIANCA CASTAFIORE!!!!!!!!!!!! AGHHDHEHFHJDHV MY GORGEOUS MY BEAUTIFUL MY LOVE MY EVERYTHING I MISS HER SO MUCH

SHE WAS A HIGHLIGHT FOR ME!!!!!! AND SHE IS VERY UNDERRATED!!!! I love seeing how much she treasures her friends, how she's so dramatic about everything, how she has such an unapologetically loud and large presence and personality everywhere she goes, how she is genuinely passionate about her singing and her art, how she clearly knows her worth and won't settle for less from anyone.

Every time she was on screen she always made me feel very happy and warm inside, also I really like her voice!!!!!

AND HER DESIGN!!!!! ARRRGHWHFHH HER DESIGN!!!

I'm ngl, she was the hardest for me to draw. But at the end I'm quite satisfied with the results!!!!

She would be such an amazing friend. SHE'S ALWAYS BRINGING GIFTS AND BEING CONSIDERATE WITH HER FRIENDS, AND SHE WOULD NEVER HIDE JUST HOW MUCH PEOPLE MEAN TO HER

PLEEEEASEEEE CASTAFIORE I MISS YOU SO MUCH GIRLFRIEND COME BACK TO ME-

Anyway, the last picture is how I'd imagine Chang and Castafiore's first meeting would go. She as always, acts as sweet and polite and extra af as she always does, let's Chang know that Tintin's talked a lot about him! And then she would bring out some biscuits and pastries she bought as a gift for everyone, and then she and Chang would sit together while eating, and they get along really well, CHANG HAS A WICKED SENSE OF HUMOR THAT CASTAFIORE CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF, (haddock would be completely dumbfounded with how good at talking to Castafiore Chang is, and how anyone could talk to her for so long) but little did haddock know, in their conversations, Castafiore does a whole lot more listening than speaking, especially when Chang starts to tell his back story, and all the things that have happened to him and Tintin. After Chang ends his story, he looks up at her after a while of being lost in his story, and mascara is dripping down her face silently, her mouth is agape, and for a few moments couldn't say anything.

Suddenly she burst out loud, pulled Chang into a hug, and sobs after listening to the horrors this sweet kid has gone through.

In over a few hours she seems to have grown a strong attachment to this kid, she'll probably send a package filled with gifts a few months later, along with a long letter talking about what she's been up to and her wishes that Chang will succeed with anything he's currently busy with, and that he shall take care of himself well.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the small character appreciation I was able to share for some obscure/underrated characters! And that they will occupy your mind just for a little while. I love these three so much, tintin shaped me as a person, tintin made my childhood, I hope you have a great day.

Click for better quality!!!!!!

#bianca castafiore #chang chong chen #tchang tchong tchen #chang #abdullah #prince abdullah #the adventures of tintin #adventures of tintin #tea art 🎨#oklo makes a post

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factual-fantasy · 4 months

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25 asks :}} MERRY CHISTMAS! 🎄🎄🎄

Jevil and Seams world still exists, its just so horrible that they don't ever want to go back to it..

Grillby and River persons AU were both destroyed/de-stabilized..?? Their worlds don't exist anymore.. they cant go back.

Goner Kid's AU still exists, but another version of her already exists in it. Its like a duplicate..? Of her was created when she fell into the void. When she tried to re-enter her AU, it was hurting the other Goner Kid. In order for her to go back, someone would have to kill that other Goner kid. But that Kid has a family, real memories, emotions.. she's a person too... no one had the heart to kill her. She cant go back..

Spamton's AU still exists, but he doesn't want to go back. There was nothing for him there. He had no friends, no family, he hated his life. And being in his own world for some reason causes his pain to be more extreme/less tolerable. So staying away from his AU brings him some relief..

Asgore's AU still exists, but he cant go back. Or else he will continue turning into dust and eventually fully die.. staying out of his AU is the only thing keeping him "alive"..

@abaroo

I don't know if their boss status really played much of a role.. mostly their friendship started with Jevil helping Spamton, and then sparked into something more by them having a similar sense of humor. :00

As for the phone person? I haven't decided if my Spamton had that phone guy or not.. but if he did, I might make it so they're different people. Or maybe the same person but from different aus..?? 👀👀

The group might not keep in touch consistently. But I can see them occasionally returning to this AU to seek shelter, knowing that they're safe here.

Like imagine they got in a wicked fight and some of their toughest members are all beat up. They retreat to this AU and hide out in the forest to rest. Some of the Queens guards find the group and bring them to her. She's surprised to hear that they've been living in the woods.

"Why did you not return to my castle?"

"We didn't want to intrude or overstay our welcome..."

"Nonsense! You are always welcome here."

Now as for Seams relationship with her? I imagine its complicated.. Of course he thinks she is wonderful and very gracious. Having freed him from his chains and continuing to welcome them into her castle..

But Seam can't help but be afraid of her. She is the same species as the Spade King. He cant help but be reminded of the king when he looks at her and feel uncomfortable or intimidated..

Seam is probably stressed and uncomfortable being in her castle, despite how kind the Queen is.. Everything just reminds him of the King and all the horrible things associated with him.. its just.. man, its complicated.

@tanileaf

WAAHAHRHHDHF THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING!! 😭😭💖💖💖

@mishishiwritings

Aw its ok! <XD Don't worry, it really is mostly a design choice now. But to go over the story again..

When I was designing my sona I wanted something to be on my hands. Gloves? Different skin color? I didn't really know.. Now at the time my fingers/knuckles were covered in band-aids due to dry skin and cat scratches.

So I thought hey! I can give my sona edgy bloody bandages! And I can call them my weathered artists hands! XD And so I added them.

Although my hands still aren't in the best shape today, I'm pretty hard on them- the bloodied hands don't have any darker or concerning origin. Just cat scratches and dry skin. I appreciate the concern though! 🥺💖💖💖

Also thank you! Happy holiday and a happy new year to you too! :}}

@taizarack

Yeah, my sona is kind'a all over the place <XD for funsies I made this little chart that might help explain the strange forms I take XDD

Basically, the drippy-ness and blood is when I want to emphasize my exhaustion and/or emotions is some way..?

And the "stable" version is usually seen at the start of comics before I've consumed any energy. Or in posts with 1-2 drawings that don't take much time/energy to make. Also being a drama queen is fun. Does that make sense..? <:D

@purplelordscp035j

THNAK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD

I'm assuming you're talking about the ruin mask? If so, that would be very bizarre.. they wouldn't know what to make of it. How is this thing even possible?? <XDD

@lizard-queen-things

Wow, 2020? That feels like forever ago-

And well I just kind'a lost interest in tfp. <XD I never even finished the show due to lost interest- such is life :/

@citrusfruitman

XD You're the first person to ever send me that I believe. Season's Greason's indeed :}

Nooo, <:/ I had already planned out my AU before the Ruin DLC came out. No room/reason to add prototype Freddy.

@starrypaint09

Fank u! :}}}

Here's a link to my FNAF master post! (Its also in my pinned post <XD)

I got an ask about this recently, :0 I'm sad to say that I'm actually unfamiliar with this game.. sorry! <XD

Part of me thinks it would be very foreign to their (probably cruddy) Fazbear brand pizza. <XD Chica would love it though!

This is a really good question! :0 I had to think about it for a sec XDD

For Freddy and Glamrock Foxy I imagined their vice would be the same, hoarding. They would try to latch onto things and objects that make them feel better. At first it would start with collecting certain posters of event that they had a good time at. Or if someone gave them a plush they would hide it from employees so that they could keep it. But then it would quickly spiral into something worse..

They would both start stealing from the other animatronics. Taking things that they see as valuable and worry the others might throw away. Or if they had a nice time at a kids birthday party they would try to collect souvenirs. Like the present wrapping and bows. Trash and plates with food still on them.

Freddy would collect all this trash and stuff and hoard it in his room. The food would get moldy and make his room a hazard. But Freddy would become very protective of his room and his collection. The employees would try to clean if but Freddy just wouldn't have it. They would have to clean out the worst of it little by little so Freddy wouldn't notice..

Foxy would be the same except once his room got too full, he would extend his collection to Pirates cove. Parents would complain about Pirates cove being dirty and about there being trash all over the floor. But just like Freddy, Foxy would be very protective of his collection and it would be a hassle to clean..

For Glamrock Bonnie however, his is harder to describe.. but I imagine he is completely opposed to change. Maybe OCD you could call it..?

I can see Bonnie being hurt by all the change in his life. When Freddy and Chica died that was a huge change. When the glamrock era began and they threw out everything familiar to him.. it hurt. It was a big change.

I can see Bonnie hating change. For 5 seconds, he wants everything to just, stay the same. This might manifest in Bonnie not allowing any employees in his room. Becuase he doesn't want them moving anything around. He wants to come back to his room after a stressful day and have his room be exactly the way he left it. This would mean Bonnie's room gets very dirty/dusty but he wont allow anyone to clean it.

Not sure how this could spiral to something that effects other people.. Maybe he doesn't like the new songs that they are told to sing. He just wants to sing the same familiar songs he already knows. This could cause problems for the other animatronics because Bonnie wont cooperate? Things like that. :0

I suppose anyone who doesn't have a river person in their AU would be spooked yeah <XD Poor river person :(

XDD Yeah "Mommy look! A Kangaroo!"

Bonnie:

Yes, Seam is absolutely devastated with guilt. Not a day goes by where he doesn't feel horrible for what he did to Jevil.. And despite your point, Jevil holds nothing against him. Not anymore, and here's why.

Jevil was there when the king threatened Seam. When the king commanded him to lock Jevil away. It was very clear from the situation that the King would hurt or even kill Seam if he did not obey. Seam was torn, tears streaming down his face. He was shaking.. He had no choice. It was lock Jevil up, or face the Kings wrath. He had to.. if he didn't, both of them would probably have been slaughtered..

He doesn't resent Seam for locking him up. He knows he had to. But after years of being down there.. Jevil did develop a bit of resentment over Seam never visiting him. He always expected Seam to sneak down to the dungeon to see him.. but he never did.. that he resented a bit.

But as soon as he escaped, and found out why Seam never visited.. that resentment all vanished.

Seam tried to visit Jevil. But he was caught. And what was his punishment? His eye was gouged out, his mouth stitched shut, and heavy shackles clasped around his neck and wrists. He was told of he ever tried to visit Jevil again. The king would kill them both.

How could Jevil hold any resentment after that? There was nothing else Seam could have done..

I think it was the opposite. Jevil saw the danger of the situation. It was clear that if Seam didn't lock Jevil up, the King would likely kill them both.

Seam was extremely hesitant. He was crying, he didn't want to lock him up..

Instead of begging the king for mercy, knowing the king would not listen. Jevil probably just tried to comfort Seam..

"Seam.. i-its ok... j-just.. just do it... just do what he says.."

I don't think I ever gave them claws.. I suppose if the situation calls for it they'll magically have them XD Not sure about scratching post though, they'd more likely just want to use a nail file :0

I sat on this ask and thought about it for a while.. and every time I think about it I picture the same scenario..

Asgore comforting a neutral route Undyne..

@beryl-shade

I'd like to think that Bibi can because he's very cat-like. but Cici? Mayyybe not? <XD She's more mouse-like to me.

@britneyt

WOAH HANG ON!- I cant make THAT many arms! XDD

Also thank you! Good night/day to you as well! :}}}

Oh yeah, it likely happens a lot. :( And you know Jevil is either gonna deny it, or curl up under a blanket and refuse to let anyone touch him in an attempt to not spread it..

#my response #undertale #deltarune #seam and jevil #seam deltarune #jevil #tw descriptions of gore #fnaf security breach #factual fam

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dingochef · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking, light bondage, blindfolds, shitty parents, nightmares, arguing

Summary: You and Jake work through the details that make marriage work and deal with a few bumps in the road. News from your Dad doesn't help.

Word Count: 5.0k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

A Rose By Any Other Name

You're walking home, (and still in constant awe and adoration of your engagement ring) from the ferry terminal towards your house. When your phone rings, the display showing "Dad". You keep walking and answer the call.

"Elsa, Congratulations on your engagement," your dad practically shouts on the phone.

"Thank you, Dad," you reply cautiously, "Is Mom there?"

"No, she isn't."

You're not sure how to continue the conversation, so you go with the 'running away' tactic.

"Well, I'm almost home, so anything else you want to talk about?" you ask, hoping he says no. The awkwardness palpable even from 2,000 miles away.

Your Dad takes a deep breath,

"Yeah, Elsa, I have a few things to talk about with you, if you want to."

You reach the front porch of your house and sit down on it.

"Umm, yeah, I'm listening."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about what happened at Christmas. I heard everything; I apologize for being a coward and staying in the kitchen."

You give a small hum of assurance that you're listening. He continues,

"I'm so sorry that I failed you for so long. I know now I should have done more to balance out your mom. It's not an excuse, it's a regret."

He pauses and takes another breath, "I was checked out, should have been there more."

"Dad, what's done is done. This is feeling a little like Cat's in the Cradle," you answer, finally having something to say.

He laughs,

"There's that wicked sense of humor," he pauses, "I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you and what you've become."

"It's good to hear you say it, Dad, but all our family dysfunction isn't going to be solved in one day."

"I get that, Elsa, I really do. But it's a starting point."

"There's something else I need to tell you, your mother and I are separating."

You croak out a very surprised, "What?"

"Christmas was a wake up call, that I haven't been happy in our relationship for a long time, but I stayed because it was comfortable and familiar."

Jake pokes his head out just as you say,

"It seems like a drastic step to separate, did you guys try couples therapy?"

Jake looks at you and mouths

"Who is that?" to you.

"My dad," you cover the phone and whisper back. Jake's eyes narrow and his brows furrow together. He goes to say something, but heads back into the house.

Your dad has taken his time in responding, he sighs,

"I invited her to go with me, I've been going on my own since Christmas, or find a new one, but she didn't want to go, or try."

Your dad's voice cracks on the word try. He is starting to cry and for the first time in a long time you wish you were in Michigan to give him a hug, this is the most vulnerable moment you've ever experienced with him.

Jake has reappeared and hands you a gin and tonic and squeezes your shoulder as he gives you space to talk.

Your dad draws in a deep breath to settle him and starts to talk again.

"My time left on earth is a diminishing resource,"

you interrupt him, "That's a little grim." He huffs out a soft laugh.

"I had the epiphany that I want to spend it with the people that make me happy, not just out of habit. A big part of it is how she never let go of the argument from Christmas. I won't be with someone who is driving away our children chasing the past. You kind of inspired this, by the way."

"That kind of sounds like I caused your separation when you say it that way," you try to joke.

He laughs on the other end, the tight band around your heart loosens a little.

"That's not what I mean exactly, just you've built this world of people who love you for just being you. Every time you've faced something that would decimate most people, you jumped back up and kept going to do what made you happy. Like you know that the love you share with Jake is worth fighting for, even if it means a fucked up relationship with your mother. I need to do what makes me happy and loved, and right now that's not being with her."

You laugh a bit darkly, trying to keep the tears at bay that threaten to spill,

"Dad, don't know if you didn't notice, my relationship with Mom has always been a bit fucked up."

"Yet another thing I ignored, I've missed so much, Elsa, I'm so sorry for that."

"It's okay Dad, you're at least self aware now, plus it's another thing you can add to your therapy list, you know in case you run out of stuff to talk about. Want to use every minute of that hour, get your money's worth."

"Did you just make a cheap dad joke about therapy?"

He's laughing and you can feel him lightening even over the phone.

"Yes, I did. You're the only person I've ever known to cut open the toothpaste tube to get that last little bit."

"Hey, it works. There's at least two more tooth brushings in there," he's at least joking a bit.

"Well, I'll let you go Elsa, you probably want to eat dinner with your fiance and not talk about an old man's laments. I want you to know how proud and amazed I am at what you've done with your life. I think Jake loves you deeply and he's good for you."

"It's really good to hear that," you pause,

"You might want to consider a trip out here, alone, actually get that visit in. I love you, Dad."

"I love you so much, Elsa."

"Bye."

You hang up the phone and hold the cold drink to your forehead as though the coolness could soothe your inner turmoil. When you go inside Jake is sitting on the couch, pretending to read a magazine. He chose his spot on the couch because he could keep watch over you outside on the porch. A wave of warmth rolls over you to know how protective and loving he is. He starts to get up and you motion for him to stay. Putting your drink on the coffee table, you flop down on the couch next to him. He waits patiently for you to talk and pulls you into his arms.

You break the silence,

"I didn't think I'd have to add 'Parents Getting Separated Likely Divorced' to my Matthews Family Dysfunction bingo card, but here we are."

Jake is visibly surprised,

"That's out of left field, you were talking to your Dad, right?"

"Yeah, he called to congratulate us on getting engaged and decided to let me know about them separating at the same time. You know for efficiency reasons, couldn't have those be two different phone calls," you snort thinking of the range of emotions in one phone call.

"So, they're separated. Any particular reason why?"

Jake is cautiously wading into the emotional quagmire.

"He said he's been doing a lot of thinking and therapy since Christmas, and realized he wasn't happy in their relationship and hadn't been for a long time."

"Wow, you'd think that he'd just run the last mile of the marathon and stay with her and not start over so late in life."

You laugh,

"I got the impression it was more of a 'I'll be damned if I'm going to run my last mile with you.'"

Jake at least rewards you with a light smirk.

"Part of it was my mom's insistence on holding onto the past, he said he wouldn't be with someone who would drive his kids away for something that could have been."

"So, how do you feel about this?"

He pulls you closer for a hug as he kisses the top of your head.

"Surprised and not at the same time, my parents have always been together but I don't know that I ever saw them in love with each other. I remember Dad as a little kid being really bright, laughing, and funny. Always smiling, that started to fade over time, I don't know if that was the toll of a strained relationship or if it was him kind of checking out trying to cope with it."

"I'm glad he's going to therapy, that's pretty smart of him," Jake offers.

"He said he has regrets from my childhood and how he let my mom dominate my life, so he's at least aware of that. He also said he is really happy for us and thinks you love me deeply and am good for me, which I'd have to agree."

You lean over to give him a peck on the cheek. Jake can tell you're still processing the conversation and will likely talk to him again about it.

"You ready for some dinner? I made a stir fry," he asks quietly.

"That sounds lovely," you stand up and wrap your arms around Jake's torso.

"I love you so much, Jake Seresin."

He replies,

"I love you very much, Elsa Matthews, soon to be Seresin."

You know you have to talk about some of the details of married life like keeping your last name, but you're emotionally spent for the day.

–

It turns out that conversation happens very soon on the next sunny Saturday afternoon. You and Jake have convened at the dining table to discuss “Life Stuff” as you called it. A file folder of your financial stuff, your laptop open to your financial tracking software, and Jake's tablet are laid out on the table. He keeps all his financial info electronic so that he can access it from anywhere the Navy sent him.

You start,

"So, I want to get married sooner than later, I don't want a really long engagement because we're trying to plan the 'perfect wedding.'"

"I agree, we'll have to see what's available for locations and work from there," Jake nods.

"Okay, that's good, that's probably a whole nother day of effort, but I thought we'd tackle the hard things first before picking wedding colors, you know the things that actually make marriages work."

Jake is smiling his panty dropper smile,

"God, I love it when you get all engineer on me, planning stuff, solving problems. It's kind of hot."

He smirks as he slides his hand up your thighs under your dress.

"Jake," you stop his hand and pull it off your leg,

"This is important stuff and you doing that is highly distracting and you're not going to get me all wet and bothered to discuss whether we do a prenup or combine bank accounts."

"Okay, I'll behave for now," he raises one eyebrow and gives you that smirk again.

"So, I came up with these things to discuss from my research. Not that this is the only time we'll talk about it."

You look down at your list,

"First, what debt do you have? I'll start, I have," you scroll through your accounts on the laptop,

"$367 on a credit card that is paid automatically each month from my checking account. You?"

He scrolls,

"Credit card only, $582. Also paid automatically each month."

"Okay, that was stupidly simple, by some stroke of luck, we have no student loans, car loans, mortgage, or a crippling gambling problem."

Jake laughs,

"You know this might be easier if we just swap the laptop and tablet with each other."

"Okay," you shuffle the tech around and scroll through Jake's accounts. Checking, savings, credit card, investment account, and what looks like a retirement account. All of which are healthy and reasonable.

You look over to Jake and he looks shocked,

"El, I didn't realize how loaded you are, maybe I should have made you pay for dinner more often."

You laugh,

"Most of my net worth is in this house, I've been maxing out my 401k and Roth IRAs since I started working. That's a lot of it, but also I don't really live an extravagant lifestyle as you've noticed. I drive an 8 year old Honda, probably the second most expensive thing I've bought in the last few years has been my bike. I've been putting the equivalent of a monthly payment for a house, since I don't have one, into a money market account since I bought this place. That's all because I really do earn good money at my job, six figures."

Jake has been nodding the whole time,

"So, level with me, what was your gross salary last year?" he asks.

"$150,000," you answer, waiting for Jake's response.

He has a pleased look on his face, none of the insecurity or jealousy you've seen from guys before,

"Nice, beats my $85k a year."

"It doesn't matter who makes more money, because I think it's our money when we get married which leads me to the next question. How do you want to manage money? Combine accounts or keep separate accounts?"

Jake answers,

"I think that combining is the way to go, it seems complicated and kind of petty to have to balance out every transaction to make things even. If it's one account, it's our money that we use for our lives. You?"

"I'm in favor of the combined account, pretty much for the same reasons. I see you're a member of a military credit union, so that might be the place to have our accounts. We can compare that stuff and choose the best one."

"Sounds good, what's the next question?"

"What purchases can we make individually and what ones do we need to consult each other on?"

"Obviously the big ones, houses, cars, anything that you might consider taking out a loan for. I'm not sure if there's a dollar amount that would trigger it, because spending $500 on a couch is different than spending $500 on shoes. Not that you're the type to do that," he looks at the ratty Chaco flip flops you're wearing.

"Hey, they still work. I'll get a new pair when they break. It's just my Midwestern soul and the ingrained thriftiness. I think it's context dependent too. I'm going to go with the 'when in doubt ask' policy."

"Agreed, what's next? This feels like a job interview almost."

"We should discuss if we want a prenup."

Jake starts,

"I think it would be wise to protect your assets, Elsa."

You scoff,

"It feels really cynical. Like we're expecting this not to work. The big thing is the house, it's in my name obviously, I was considering adding you to it, so you'd get if anything happened to me, or we can set up a trust that automatically transfers it to you. A trust might not be a bad idea if we plan on having kids. Hah, that's the next question."

You look at Jake and he seems a little overwhelmed,

"Are you okay over there?"

"Who knew getting married would be so complicated. El, I don't want the appearance of me marrying for your money. Your mother has already made me paranoid about not being enough."

"Jake, if you wanted a sugar momma, you could have reached way higher. There's plenty of rich old ladies on Coronado Beach looking for a young buck like you."

He relaxes and laughs a little,

"Who says I'm not playing the long game for when you'll be a rich old lady?"

It's your turn to laugh now,

"Jake, this is our house, I need to set up a will anyway and we can discuss options with a lawyer if you want."

Jake looks satisfied with that answer. He looks at the list of questions,

"So, kids, yes or no, and how many?" he asks.

"I do want a family, not giant, but at least two kids. All the only children I know are kind of weird. Seeing you with Ellie and Gigi made something click on in my uterus, because I was definitely filled with the urge to give you babies."

"I'm sure I could help you with that primal urge," he jokes,

"I'd like a family, but as I said before you get to make the ultimate decisions on all of that because it's your body and you'll bear the brunt of it."

"Fair, would we both work if we had kids? I don't really think I'd like to be a stay-at-home mom, I'd like to keep building my career."

"While in an ideal world you or I could take a multi year sabbatical and raise some kids, I'd expect that we'd both want to work, and I'm okay with hiring a nanny or daycare, are you?"

"Yeah, I am. I was a daycare kid as my mom was a teacher. I went during the school year and I think there's some good to it, the socialization. It just depends on finding the solution that feels right."

"Alright, hit me, what's next?" Jake asks, rolling his shoulders.

“How do you feel about me keeping my last name? You've casually mentioned me changing my name."

Jake thinks for a moment,

"I just assumed you would, you know tradition and what not, why wouldn't you?"

"My whole professional life is under Matthews, my patents, licenses, and journal articles. All under Matthews, keeping that consistent is important to my professional reputation. Plus, it always felt a little patronizing and demeaning to me. It feels like a relic from the past when women were just traded around by fathers to husbands like property."

Jake's face twists into a disagreeable expression, his mouth pulled tight.

"I guess, I've always thought of it being a unifying thing, like 'Team Seresin'. Not you submitting to me like property."

He looks worried as he continues to speak,

"Do you not want to be Mrs. Lieutenant Seresin? Were you going to change it for Liam?"

"No, I wasn't and that's not what I'm saying, it's just arbitrary that it has to be the woman who changes her name, do you want to be Mr. Dr. Matthews?"

He shakes his head,

"Why would I change my name? It's not what people do."

"Jake, just because it's been done that way for a long time, doesn't mean we have to do it. We can be committed to each other without the same last name."

You sigh a little louder than you should.

"I just thought that it would be something that brings us together, being the Seresins, a family unit. What if we have kids, what is their last name going to be?" he asks and clenches his jaw waiting for the answer.

"I'm more than fine with them having Seresin as a last name. I wouldn't want to burden a kid with a hyphenated last name."

"You could hyphenate, what about being Elsa Seresin-Matthews?"

Jake raises his eyebrows like he's found the magic solution.

"That's a giant pain in the ass and you know it." you huff, feeling your cheeks heat up. Jake's eyebrows drop and furrow together as he considers what he's going to say next.

"Elsa," you're surprised he's using your full name and not just El,

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to change your name, but it just feels like you're bucking tradition just to do it."

"That's what you got from this discussion? I'm just being contrary for the fun of it? Please stop saying it's tradition, because sometimes tradition is a word for the stupid way we've always done things."

You wince internally at the last part, momentarily forgetting how much of Jake's life is ruled by tradition and the Navy.

Jake's mouth stretches into a thin flat line, his anger telegraphing across the room.

You and Jake are now staring each other down, obviously both angry. You're about ready to leap in for another round like the hot headed idiot you can be when Jake holds up his hands in a surrender motion.

"Let's hold up a second. You've said your piece and I've said mine. I think we need to cool off and separate for a bit before we make this nasty. I know how I can be a righteous asshole when I'm pissed off and I don't want to go there."

You take a deep breath,

"Fine, I'm going to go for a bike ride, might as well use this energy for something."

Jake nods curtly, acknowledging you.

You change into your workout gear and head out on your bicycle. As you round the corner of the block, your phone dings with a message from Jake,

"Went for a run."

You snort that he's also expending angry energy in a physical way. Your conversation plays over and over in your head. Changing your name, beyond the professional reasons, just always felt off. Like you know intrinsically that you're Elsa S. Matthews, PE, PhD. The way Jake didn't really get the professional reasons why keeping your name the same was probably what hurt the most. He knows how important your career is to you. Changing names and not having that continuous professional history could undermine your career. Just another piece of bullshit female professionals have to deal with. Another mile and your white hot rage dims and your brain fixates on the rhythm of "Elsa S. Matthews". The syllables syncing up over and over in time with your legs pushing down the pedals as you try to burn this frantic electric energy.

You stop to look out over the bay and it occurs to you that there is a compromise here, the S standing for Samantha, a name you don't care about. You weren't named for anyone, your mom said she read it in a novel when she was pregnant and liked it. How easy would it be to change your middle name to Seresin? Elsa Seresin Matthews. You can keep your professional name the same, Elsa S. Matthews. That feels right to you, like the joining of names not obliterating one for the other or tacking on a clunky name at the end of a full name.

Your ride home is quick and you fall into the same rhythm as before except to Elsa Seresin Matthews. Desperate to find Jake and resolve this, you pick up your pace.

Arriving home and you put your bike away as fast as you can, desperate to see Jake. You walk in through the back door just as Jake walks in through the front door shirtless, sweaty, and wearing rather skimpy running shorts. His golden treasure trail just peeking out of the waistband. Your brain automatically wants you to wrap your legs around his waist and fuck him as soon as possible, but you know you and Jake need to talk.

You meet in the middle of the living room and start talking at the same time,

"El, I didn't–

"Jake, I was being–"

He cock his head when you laugh.

"This feels like a rom com where the characters fight over something to add a conflict to the plot. Like we both just enter the house at the same time and start talking over each other."

He cracks a smile and starts to talk, "El, I didn't think through all the professional implications of changing your name. I can see how that would upset you, given how hard you've worked and how much your career means to you. I was wrong to diminish that."

You swear you see a light bulb go on above Jake's head. Like he unlocked the Rosetta Stone, and figured out what bothered you most.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a smart one?" you tell him. He smiles and shakes his head.

"You're right that's why I got upset. I don't fault you for assuming that I'd change my name, a lot of women do. I also can see how it looks like I'm rejecting your name and in a way you."

Jake looks away for a second.

"It stung, and I fixated on us having the same last name as something critical to being married, when it's not."

He takes your hands in his,

"Us being married and committed to each other whatever our names are is the important part."

"I have a proposition," he raises his eyebrow and takes a step toward you. You laugh at him as you stop him with your hands on his chest, his hands landing on your wrists,

"Not that kind of one, yet. Keeping my name as Elsa S. Matthews is important for me, but the S stands for Samantha. A name I have no affinity for, my mom got it from a trashy romance novel. I want to change my middle name to Seresin. A name that means a lot to me and to you. What do you think?"

The panty dropper smile blooms wide and open on his face,

"You're calling me smart, but you are the smart one. I would be very touched if you took my name as your middle name. I was at peace, okay, a grumbly peace," he slightly rolls his eyes, "With you keeping your name, but I really like this idea. Elsa Seresin Matthews, sounds good."

You lean up to kiss him,

"I'm glad. And we just had an honest to goodness fight, didn't we? I think we came through it all right, good communication skills, go us."

You wave a tiny pretend flag with your hand in celebration.

Jake pulls you close to him, and whispers in your ear, his voice low,

"Know what the best part of a fight is?"

A shiver rolls along your spine as Jake drops a light kiss just under your ear. His hands sliding down your back to grab your ass and pull you close to him.

You stutter a little as you answer,

"N-no, what's the best part?"

He smirks into your neck, stopping his efforts to give you a hickey he replies,

"The make-up sex."

A wave of arousal flushes down your body as you gaze into Jake's eyes, the green blown out by his pupils wide with desire. His hands slide from your ass to under your thighs. He lifts you up with ease and your legs finally wrap around his waist. You kiss him like you're both running out of oxygen and you're trying to steal it from each other's lungs. He backs you up to the nearest wall and pins you up against the wall, his legs supporting you and your hands around his neck. You are grinding at each other desperate for some friction. You whine because you're wearing padded bike shorts, and you can't feel Jake like you need to.

"Need more,” you pant against his lips,

“Need you,” he also pants against your neck, where his head had slipped down.

He unzips your bike jersey to get more of your skin against his, and he huffs,

"Stupid sports bra.”

"Put me down for a second."

He lets you down gently and you peel your clothing off as fast as you can. Jake has the same idea and pulls his running shorts and underwear off in one smooth motion. As soon as he can he pulls you back up to him, moaning at the contact of skin on skin. He steadies you against the wall again, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

"I didn't think you'd be able to rip through my bike shorts like you did my underwear," you gasp out as Jake enters you. Jake's only answer is a string of curse words and sex babble, "Fuck, god you feel so good, El. Love you so much."

“Love you so much, Jake.”

He starts a fast rhythm, your mutual need to be close and chase your highs spurring him on. The feeling of being completely surrounded by Jake and his hard wall of muscle, his scent, and the feeling of your sweat mixing as you slide against each other is amazingly overwhelming. Your brain is reduced to one thought as he pounds into you,

“Jake. Jake. Jake.”

Jake lifts you a little higher, grips your thighs a bit harder, and you are seeing stars as his cock hits the deepest spots in you.

"Love you, oh fuck, right there, so good. Don't stop," you plead with him.

The pleasure is overwhelming with each thrust, the room is filled with only your heavy breathing, moans, and the obscene sound of fucking and skin slapping on skin for the next few minutes.

"Touch yourself, El, make yourself come, so beautiful when you come on my cock,” Jake grits out as he grips your thighs and ass harder. You comply, and snake your hand down and start rubbing your clit frantically, trying to match the pace. You look Jake in the eyes and start talking,

"I wanted to wrap my legs around you the second I saw you come through the door, half naked, sweaty, and my god, your chest. Want to fuck you all the time."

Jake's reaction is to pound harder and faster, erasing your ability to form coherent sentences.

“Fuck, El. I want you all the fucking time. I can't believe this pussy is all mine.”

"Fuck, I'm so close, Jake, so close. Come with me, please."

Your climax slams through you like a car hitting a brick wall. Your eyes close involuntarily, and you can see stars dance across your eyelids.

“Fuck, El. Milking me so good, so fucking tight,” Jake grits out as comes, right on the heels of your orgasm. His hot come filling you up as you spasm around him on each wave of residual pleasure. Somehow Jake holds you up through the aftershocks, his head on your shoulder as you catch your breath. He kisses you sweetly on the lips, and says,

"I'm going to put you down now, you good to stand?"

You just nod and hum as he pulls out and sets you down. You wrap your arms around his torso to lay your head on his chest, only to realize how sweaty it is. I pull my face back and suggest,

"I think it's time for a shower, we both are sweaty and reek of sex."

"Excellent idea." He responds, and you can see from the look on Jake's face that he has more thoughts for later.

Chapter 20

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@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

#top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #top gun smut

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