#Flavor House New York | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fushiguho · 3 months

Text

The Homemaker & Her Husband ☆ Nanami Kento

☆ WORD COUNT – 7.3k ☆ SYNOPSIS – You’ve been a good wife, really. Fulfilling your role as a homemaker and completing your responsibilities of cooking and cleaning for your overworked husband so that he can provide for his beloved missus. But what happens when one evening after preparing a feast for Nanami, he arrives late and now dinner is ruined… will you let him make it up to you? ☆ CONTENT WARNINGS – Nanami x fem!reader, shameless smut, married couple, traditional gender roles, creampie, impregnation, mentions of femininity, reader is a housewife

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

A sigh of contentment fell from your lips as you placed a warm pan of rolls on the table, completing the feast you’ve prepared for you and your husband. It was the final—and most crucial—piece of the divine spread you’ve spent the last three hours prepping and crafting. You closed your eyes before inhaling once, reveling in the aroma of your hard work. You could nearly drool at the heavenly combination of piquant and saccharine flavors, all beautifully arranged on a frilly, sage green tablecloth. You had it all; smothered pork chops on a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes, roasted cauliflower with tahini, homemade buttered rolls, and a New York style cheesecake with strawberry sauce dribbling down the sides.

There was no occasion. No rhyme or reason. There doesn’t need to be. Some days you just wanted to wear a smooth, satin slip dress, paired with the most beautiful diamonds and a gracious heart. Some days you just wanted to prepare a fulfilling meal for your husband to come home to after a long, tiring day at work. And some days you wish that just maybe, society would stop frowning upon the women that take pride in their love for their husband.

When did it become a crime to be comfortable in your divine femininity?

What is so god awful about wanting to be a caregiver? What if it’s divine intuition or fate? What if it’s just the way it ought to be? You aren’t sure, not really. All you know was that you enjoy taking care of the people you love, you always have. Maybe it’s the swell of your heart when he thanks you for taking care of the house while he’s away. Or the smile that mars his face when he comes home to a spotless kitchen and a carefully constructed supper as you prance to embrace him in a hug. Or it could even be the way he really thanks you when the night is said and done and he’s splitting you apart with his cock and fingers.

Soft, bossa nova jazz thrummed through the speakers of the radio that sat atop the fridge. You hummed to yourself as you swayed your hips. The window just above the sink sat open, soft linen curtains dancing in a duet with the wind. It was warm and it smelled of healthy grass and memories to be had. And oh how you missed him dearly, you could die.

You smiled to yourself as you dusted your hands on the front of your plaid apron before swiping your pager off the counter. With quick, nimble fingers, you began to message your husband, letting him know that the door is unlocked and you’ll be waiting for him at the table. He always knows when you’re making a special dinner for him because it’s he who does the grocery shopping, so it isn't ever truly a surprise. Nanami hates surprises anyway.

You undid the bow at the back of your apron before peeling it off and hanging it on its designated hook. With two hands, you smoothed the satin of your cream colored dress, the one that Nanami swore hugged your hips a little too tightly. You washed your hands before skipping upstairs with a girlish smile, the soft hum of bossa nova ebbing as you neared your shared bedroom.

Diligently, you touched up your frazzled hair and makeup. With swaying feet, you smiled in the mirror of your vanity, patting your cheeks with blush just the way he likes. Nanami loves when you doll yourself up for him. He loves the sweet, gourmand perfume you’d put directly behind your ears, the one he swears smells like raspberries and vanilla. He also loves the pretty, sheer lipgloss that adorned your lips, accentuating the dip of your cupid's bow. And oh how he loves when you’d saunter toward him in that bewitched dress with a soft smile playing your glossed lips.

You could hardly wait as you rushed back downstairs, plopping yourself into a chair at the dining table. Impatiently, you waited. With your elbows on the table and your chin resting in the palms of your hands, you eyed the food before you. You flitted your eyes between the front door and the hardwick clock on the counter. Any second now, you thought.

You could no longer hear the thrum of music, far too engrossed in the passage of time. The clock’s golden pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as time does, it went on. The pendulum continued to swing and time continued to pass and soon, seconds would turn into minutes and minutes into hours.

He’s late.

Now, you sat on the couch, your right knee bouncing restlessly as your arms sat crossed over your chest. You were upset, maybe even beyond it. Disappointed maybe. An irritated sigh fell from your lips. Slowly, you dragged your bare toes along the shag rug on the floor. It’s late and you’ve already paged Nanami four times in the last hour to no avail.

With a huff, you pushed yourself up from the couch before making your way to the kitchen. You began to clear the table of the room temperature food, angrily packing everything away into tupperwares. The sound of the front door opening then closing startled you, pausing your angered movements. The floorboards creaked with the familiar clomp of his leather penny loafers as he neared the kitchen.

“My love, I’m home. I’m so sorry I’m late.” He apologized as he emerged in the arched doorway of the kitchen while simultaneously slipping his suit jacket off his arms and hanging it from the coat rack.

You said nothing as you continued to clean the table, your shoulder cold as you ignored his presence.

Nanami sighed, “You cooked all this for me, baby?” His heart ached in his chest.

“What does it matter? It’s cold anyway.” You cut, your voice sharp and daggered.

Nanami nodded deservedly. Immediately, he sees your anger, acknowledges it, accepts it. He could almost feel the warmth of your seething rage. Warily, he stepped closer to you, his arms open in embrace, but you turned away, shuffling to the opposite end of the table to collect the remaining food.

“Baby,” He frowned, “forgive me. I stayed out late tonight to tie up some loose ends. Satoru called out and I lost track of time.” He explained.

Still, you scoffed.

“But I’m here now and this food looks delicious.” He commended, “Did you eat?”

“I paged you five fucking times. You could’ve called.” You huffed, ignoring his concern.

He dropped his head in shame. He truly was sorry and you knew it. Nanami is sincere. He’s genuine and unfeigned and candid, but he tends to throw himself at his work, muddling the line between it and home. You really can’t fault him for taking pride in what he does, but God, do you wish he’d find a healthy balance between the two.

“Baby, what can I do, hm?” He hummed, “To make it up to you?”

He followed you around the kitchen, his heavy footfalls not far behind. You could feel his warmth as he stood beside you and you could smell what’s left of the cologne he spritzed on his suit this morning. It was then that you finally looked up at him, silently registering his post-work mien. His tapered, blonde hair danced in every which way, loose strands adorning his forehead. His brows furrowed with remorse while his tired eyes pleaded for absolution, begging for your forgiveness like a sinner in church.

Slowly, he sank to his knees before you, his intense gaze never never faltering. You rolled your eyes in disbelief as you turned away. Nanami reached for your hand, pulling you back to him. Before you had the chance to pull away, Nanami dipped his head to plant a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before turning it over and kissing your palm. He continued, leaving several kisses along the expanse of your hand and wrist.

“Look baby, I’m on my knees for you.” He admitted. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do anything… you know I will.”

Nanami was releasing your hand to kiss your legs instead. He trailed sweet, fleeting kisses up and down your shins before gently bunching up the hem of your dress to expose your thighs. He kissed there too, humming and inhaling your scent as he wrapped his arms around the back of your knees, pulling you closer.

His heart ached with contrition as he begged for your pardon, so distraught by his foolishness. Frankly, Nanami yearned not only for you, but your approval as well. It was something he’d go to great lengths to obtain. What is he worthy of if not your mercy? Your validation?

“What is it you want?” He mumbled between kisses, determined to rectify his wrongdoing and put a smile on his pretty girl’s face.

You could feel the slam of your heart against your chest as you looked down at him, his pleading eyes beckoning you to relinquish your anger and find reprieve in him instead. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin—small I love yous and honeyed words of praise. And surely, all the resolve you once had was long gone, swept up and blown out the window, never to be seen again.

The poor lace of your white panties cried in your arousal as your stomach flipped with excitement. The subtle clench of your thighs wouldn’t go unnoticed. You could feel the curl of an all-knowing grin against your skin. “I know you want something.” He whispered. It’s quiet, barely audible, but God, did you hear him.

You bit your inner cheek, contemplative in silence. If you know Nanami at all, you know he never allows you to go to bed angry. It’s one thing he won’t tolerate. He’s made it his personal mission to send you to bed with a smile on that pretty face of yours every night.

“Want me to take care of you tonight?” He breathed, his eyes searching for yours, “Show you how grateful I am for all that you do? Show you just how much I need you… how much you mean to me? Will you let me show you, my love?”

You can't stay mad at him nor could you deny yourself pleasure. How could you? He’s on his knees for you, begging at your feet for forgiveness like an atheist on judgment day. He loves you dearly and he won’t rest until he rights his wrongs. So you really can’t help it when you slowly nod to him, accepting his enticing offer.

A breathy laugh of relief fell from his lips, “Yeah? You’ll let me show you?” He grinned.

You nodded again, reaching out a hand for him. The gracious smile that marred his lips was peerless, almost as if his sole purpose in life is to demonstrate his love and appreciation for you. He eventually rose to his feet, towering above you before taking your hand and silently leading you to the living room. You followed closely as you desperately fought the grin trying to kiss your lips.

Nanami situated himself on the couch, his legs spreading naturally. The striped fabric of his trousers warped with the slow adjustment of his hips, the subtle bulge of his cock resting so prettily in his lap. He looked up at you as he sat quietly, the heat of his stare turning you into a puddle of nothingness before him. How could someone say so much, yet nothing at all? You understand him completely—his intentions, his determination, his carnal desire.

He jerked his head lightly, motioning you to him or rather on him.

Like a moth to flame, you were immensely drawn to him, deeply, uncontrollably. You hardly noticed the shuffle of your feet as you neared him before leaning down to fixate yourself on his lap. A shared breath of relief fell from your lips as they hovered mere centimeters apart. You couldn't hide the small grin that crept on your face. Nanami returned the smile, his much larger and dopey, but his eyes saddened.

“You even got all dolled up for me.” He commented, taking notice of your glossed lips and rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby.” He frowned like before, as if he’s still haunted by his guilty conscience.

You shrugged, “It’s okay.” It comes out as a small whisper. You’re not even sure if you believe yourself. Nanami certainly doesn't, which is why he shook his head in disagreement.

“It’s not. I should have called,” He admitted as his hand reached for your face, cupping your warm cheek in his palm. You leaned into his touch, nodding slowly, wordlessly agreeing. “But m’gonna make it up to you.” He promised.

He was then leaning closer to push his lips onto yours, finally closing the aching distance. You kissed him back promptly, sighing against his mouth as you relaxed into his touch. He wasn’t modest as he kissed you hungrily, your nose pushing against his while you breathed into his mouth. Nanami hummed in satisfaction as he sloppily tasted your mouth. Your lips were so sweet and delicious, so perfectly shaped and carefully glossed.

Soon, you could feel the graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, silently begging for more to which you obliged, granting him access to your willing mouth. You allowed him to taste you from the inside, desperate to feel his tongue exploring your wet mouth. Even the subtle exchange of saliva had your hips stuttering as you sat on his lap.

Nanami’s hands were gripping the fat of your hips, his long fingers splayed along the flesh. The hem of your dress slowly bunched at your waist, exposing the pretty lace of your sheer panties. You couldn’t help the gape of your lips when you gasped at his cock pressing firmly against your clothed cunt. He pushed your hips against him, rocking you back and forth along his growing erection. The friction made you completely dizzy.

You couldn’t help the whiny moans that tumbled past your lips and into his mouth, your sweet voice going straight to his cock as he swallowed your saccharine whimpers. A cry left your lips at the feeling of him bucking his hips forward, further pushing himself against the lace of your underwear. And God, how you were so wet and bothered. Nanami fucking loved when you’d get like this. He swore he could feel your wetness seeping through the fabric of his trousers.

“Always been so sensitive.” He hummed.

His comment had your cheeks burning with crimson. It never took long for you to fall apart like this. He’s hardly touched you and you could already feel yourself unraveling like cheap thread. You crave him like you crave water and oxygen, as if you’d simply die from the sheer lack of him and he could tell. He could always tell.

“M’so grateful for you y’know.” He smiled drunkenly, reminding you of his gratitude, “So pretty ‘n sweet… always takin’ such good care of me.” He continued, dropping his head to kiss your neck softly.

You hummed in agreement, craning your head to the side, granting him more access to the receptive flesh. Nanami’s hands began to slide up your torso and beneath your dress. His warm grip was tight and familiar. He pulled you impossibly close, your chest pressed against his and now your dress was bunched up just below the curve of your breasts.

Nanami brought his gaze up to meet yours, silently begging to take off your dress to which you nodded. You held your arms up for him, allowing him to gather the cream fabric in his hands before pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. He smiled. Nanami loved when you’d opt for not wearing a bra, in fact, he encouraged it and wouldn't have it any other way. He loved that he could make out the shape of your breasts at any given moment. He even loved the prod of your nipples against the fabric of your blouses.

He wasted no time as he was bowing his head to slip one of your nipples into his mouth while his hands worked to push the fat of your breasts together. A trail of hot, openmouthed kisses littered your chest. He hummed in bliss as he tasted your skin. He was nothing but insatiable as he swapped back and forth between your tits, ran his tongue through the valley of your chest, and slipped both of your sweet nipples into his mouth.

Fuck, you could cum right here, just like this, and he knew it of course. The warm press of his cock against your poor pussy while his hot mouth drooled on your tits was pure torture. You were practically putty in his hands—beautiful and completely ruined by him and for him only. You lolled your head back as you bucked your hips, wanton moans falling from your parted lips.

“Grateful for this pretty little body.” He whispered as he felt you up greedily, squeezing and caressing just about any part of you he could reach.

“Na…namin,” You cried.

“I know, baby. I know.” He shushed, “I know you want more. Just wanna appreciate you is all.”

Nanami eventually willed himself away, but only to lift you off of him and set you down on the couch so that he could kneel on the rug in front of you. You sat upright with your back to the backrest of the couch, knees to your chest as they pressed together tightly. With one hand, Nanami was spreading your legs apart before tugging you closer to the edge of the cushion by your ankles.

You couldn’t bear the sight of him between your legs as he began to kiss you through the damp fabric of your panties, darting his tongue out to taste you just a little bit. It was awfully too much. You could hardly breathe as he beckoned for you to raise your hips so that he could pull your soiled panties down your legs, tossing them aside.

“Grateful for this sweet little pussy.” He breathed as he licked a long, ponderous strip, collecting your seeping arousal on the tip of his tongue.

You shuddered as he began to mouth your cunt. He kissed and drooled all over it, moaning and panting against it as if you were an oasis amidst a barren desert. As if he were a predator and you his prey. As if he’d simply die if didn’t devour you right here and now, whole, saving absolutely nothing for anybody.

As he sat on his knees between your legs, his hands gripped your inner thighs, keeping you spread nice and wide for him. You could hardly move, but that’s what he wanted. He wanted the entirety of your pussy on display for him. He needed you to be open and accessible and all for him.

He was still dressed in his business attire as he fucked you with his tongue. The first couple buttons of his blue dress shirt were undone and his spotted tie hung low from his neck. He even wore his loafers and his harness but none of that mattered to him. Maybe he liked the idea of you being completely bare and vulnerable and his only purpose is to be a vessel for your pleasure. Or it could just be the juxtaposition of it all.

“Fuuuck…” You drawled, “feels s’good.”

The swell of his cock was unbearable and you did nothing but push him further. Nanami wouldn't miss the subtle roll of your hips against his face, or the saccharine whimpers that tumbled from your mouth. He sure as hell wouldn’t miss the way you begged him to stuff you with his fingers. God, he could cream his fucking trousers.

He groaned as he slowly sunk his two middle fingers inside of you, “Oh, God, look at that.”

With hooded eyes and a lazy smirk, he watched as your greedy pussy sucked him in, kissing and coating his fingers in your essence. He couldn’t help but to shove those very fingers into his mouth, tasting you from the inside, only to return his fingers back to your pussy without missing a beat. He then dropped his head to wrap his lips around your clit. You whined as his fingers prodded your leaking hole while his tongue beckoned you to an inevitable release.

The obscene squelch of his fingers as he stuffed your drooling hole was sickening. You could only drape an arm over your eyes, shielding your face in embarrassment as he began to curl his fingers forward, pressing against your fluttering walls. With an open mouth you panted, and gasped, and moaned, and babbled, pleading for anything and everything.

And you’re just the sweetest thing ever to him. So pretty and delicious, he thought. Nanami couldn’t get enough of you. He lapped up everything you gave him, tonguing and sucking and slurping you up like a man starved. His groans and hums of pleasure as he ran his tongue through you were nothing but kindle to the ever-growing flame in the pit of your stomach.

His hands found purchase on your waist, gripping you tightly to pull you firmly onto his mouth. He let his jaw fall slack while lolling out his tongue, fully mouthing your cunt. Quite literally he stuffed his face with you, devouring you utterly and completely. He was obnoxious as he groaned and panted, deeply huffing and inhaling as if he were on the brink of death and you were his final breath, nursing him back to life.

How could someone be so pussywhipped? So drunk? So blinded by their own unceasing need to please? So much so that he doesn't even think twice when you cry for him to go lower, begging him to taste and appreciate you everywhere. He silently obliged, sharing a breath with you as he gathered your seeping arousal on the tips of his fingers so that he could drag them between the slit of your ass.

With both hands, he spread you further apart, warm palms on the fat of your ass, and his balls painfully swollen at the lewd sight of your holes throbbing and pulsing around nothing. Nanami gathered saliva in his mouth before puckering his lips and lolling out his tongue, messily drooling onto your pussy and asshole. He watched with a half-lidded stare as his saliva landed with a plap, slowly dripping from your cunt, to the space inbetween, until finally spilling onto your puckered hole.

Nanami dipped his head, quickly darting out his tongue to chase his spit so that he could push it into your ass. You gasped as his tongue probed and licked and tasted you. Fuck, you could cum just like that. You felt it—that deep, gnawing urge to release yourself with a buck of your hips and cry of his sweet name. God, you could fucking feel it.

“Yeeeah—my baby needs me everywhere, hmm?” He slurred drunkenly between drags of his tongue, “Needs me to appreciate her everywhere… even her pretty little asshole.”

You nodded dumbly with your pupils dilated and glazed over, your wet lips parted, and your eyebrows knitted. You could hardly recall how you ended up here… thighs pressed to your chest with your husband’s tongue and fingers delving in and out of your sloppy holes like some insatiable whore.

Is that what you are? Some insatiable whore whose only purpose in life is to be a slutty little housewife? It must be true though, right? It’s you who's getting your pussy and asshole slobbered on. You who’s feeling yourself up as you get devoured, groping and squeezing your breasts like a pornstar. And you who’s nodding off and choking over your words, begging to cum like your life depends on it. But maybe you end up like this in every life. Is it fate? Destiny? Is it just how it ought to be? Does it even matter?

You weren’t sure or maybe you just didn't care. How could you? Not with the way his thumb was slowly sinking into your asshole while his tongue licked through your sweet folds. Not with the way he was beginning to press his other thumb to your clit, beckoning you to cum in his mouth like the good girl he knows you are. And definitely not with the way your stomach was starting to tighten and coil with that all too familiar feeling.

“Nami!” You choked, your chest heaving as you panted and bucked.

You couldn’t fight your frown as he pulled away to smile up at you, the corners of his lips tugging into an all-knowing grin and his pussy drunk eyes boring holes into yours. You dripped down his face—the tip of his nose, his swollen lips and chin glistening in your arousal and his own saliva. It was debauched and lewd and entirely shameless but none of that mattered. It never mattered when he had you like this—so vulnerable, so helpless, so willing and meek. Maybe that’s the exact reason he craves you when he's away. Because he loses all sense of himself when he’s between your thighs. So lost in the objective of pleasuring you, in his need to satisfy.

“Want you to cum on my tongue so I can fuck all of my appreciation into you.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your cunt, “You want that?”

You nodded hastily, humming and gasping in approval as you pushed your hips forward, chasing his hovering lips. Of course you want that and he knows it. He knows you’re unraveling at the seams, holding onto the fleeting semblance of sanity you grasp as you spiral toward an inevitable orgasm. He just knows it’ll tear you apart, sending you so far gone that he’s sure it’ll have tears threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. If Nanami knows anything at all, he knows you—in and out like the back of his hand. He knows what your body needs, how much you can take, how deep he can go, and even how hard you’ll cum for him.

And it’s not just you. He too feels himself on the brink of orgasm, his poor cock threatening to spill into his Calvin Klein briefs, but not yet, not now. It was torture, his swollen balls pressed to the fat of his thigh and his heavy cock weeping precum all while being compressed by the restricting fabric of his trousers. God, it was absolute torture, but he would wait forever if it meant having his tongue and fingers inside of you.

“Nami, m’cumming… oh, God.” You cried.

It happened all too fast. Your poor brain couldn't register the orgasm that worked through your entire being. The feeling of your abdomen tightening and the flutter of your soft walls as his tongue helped you through it rendered you breathless. Your mind fell blank as he guided you through your orgasm, cooing words of praise and gratitude, leaving you a whimpering, stuttering mess.

Nanami moaned and panted as he drank you up, swallowing and enjoying everything you gave him. It’s almost animalistic the way he nearly unhinges his jaw to taste more of you if it were even possible. He’s a primal animal in his habitat, devouring his prey like it’s the last meal he’d ever have. It’s almost too good that it pains you, it’s too much.

You can’t stop your legs from closing around his head. “I can’t, baby...” You whine as you push him away with a little more force than intended.

Nanami drunkenly stumbles backwards onto the floor with a thud, his hands falling back to catch him and still, he smiles lazily. Well, it’s more of a crooked smirk. His usual ironed dress shirt now wore wrinkles and his normally manicured hair danced in a frenzy along his nape and forehead, blonde strands falling down to frame his face. He sat with his knees bent and his hands resting behind him to stabilize himself. His cheeks burned with crimson and his chest heaved.

“You really are so beautiful, my love,” He admired, “and I’m so grateful for you, your love, your compassion, your emotional complexity. I really am.” He breathed.

He’s babbling and you smile, heart swelling at his sentiment and vulnerability. His love is evident. It’s in your face, it’s overbearing, it’s real. “I love you more than you know.” You smile sweetly, holding your arms out for him to come to you.

Nanami pushed himself up from the floor to fall into your arms. “I love you with all that I am.” He admitted in a whisper, baring his soul.

His lips catch yours, pulling you into a tender kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “I want to make love to you.” He breathed. You nod to him, sealing your answering with another sloppy kiss. You hardly notice Nanami gently pulling you off the couch to carry you upstairs, nearly tripping as he attempts to slip his loafers off in the process.

Blindly, he stumbled through the doorway of your shared bedroom. He laid you on the perfectly done up bed and cursed to himself at the salacious side of you—your bare body on display for him, swollen cunt exposed between your legs, silently begging for more, your fucked-out face and tousled hair. Nanami fought the urge to cum as he undressed himself before you, finally ridding himself of his clothes.

As you waited, you couldn’t help the hand that snaked between your legs so that you could touch yourself. Your other hand found its way to your mouth, your fingers pushed past your lips and you sucked sweetly as you watched Nanami unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt.

As he undid the clasp of his brown leather belt, he shook his head and laughed to himself. It’s more of a breathy chuckle as he grins in disbelief. “You just might be the death of me.” He jested as he pushed his briefs down his thighs, baring his swollen cock. It jumped free, bouncing to kiss his navel.

Your stomach swirled in excitement as he neared the bed, kneeling onto the edge of the mattress. You crawled toward him, reaching for his cock so that you could pump him in your hand. It’s warm, heavy, desperate. It hurts. Nanami hissed at the contact, eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t hide the throaty moans that tumbled past his lips nor did he want to. He needs you to know exactly how he feels.

“Can… can you spit on it? Fuuuck,” He gasped, his stomach caving as you immediately gathered saliva in your mouth, lolling out your tongue so that you could drool onto the swollen head of his cock. “God, I love you.” He gaped as a hand came up to cup your cheek.

You smiled up at him, your cheeks glowing as you stroked him sweetly. “I need you to fuck me, Nami.” You whispered. It’s quiet, benign, and sincere and you meant it so deeply.

Nanami nodded, watching like a hawk as you laid back for him, spreading your legs and showing him exactly how you wanted him. It didn’t take long for him to situate himself between your thighs, tucking your legs on either side of his hips. With his cock in his palm, he dragged the leaking tip along the expanse of your cunt, spreading and collecting your arousal. You writhed beneath him as you rolled your hips, searching for the relief you so desperately craved.

You shook your head, “Unh unh, just fuck me.” You blurted impatiently.

He smiled down at you, cocking his head to the right just a bit, laughing lightly before nodding in accordance. You braced yourself as he began to push the head of his cock inside of you with his thumb. The two of you sharing a gasp, your mouths agape as you both watched him slowly sink inside of you. Already, it was too much, and you weren’t even fully stuffed.

The moans that fell from your lips were nothing but needy, sultry whines and little gasps of air. Nanami groaned in response to your pretty little sounds, his voice low and guttural. There was nothing he loved more than your sweet voice, especially when you’d get all needy and whiny like this. He almost couldn’t help himself as he pushed his cock further inside of you, his hands reaching for the curve of your waist to pull you onto him, tucking himself as deep as he possibly could.

“Nanamin…” You breathed, your eyebrows knitting as your lips parted.

“I know,” He cooed, “but you can take it, yeah? You always do.”

He smiled sweetly as he drew his hips back, reveling in the way your arousal kissed him in a sheen layer. He held his breath as he pushed his hips forward like before, stuffing you to the brim. He gauged your expression, watching as your face contorted in pleasure, searching for your silent needs so that he can fuck you just how you like.

Slowly, he subconsciously nodded to himself as he pulled out of you. He nodded as if this was the answer to everything he’s ever questioned in life. “Yes, baby… fuck.” He stifled as he lolled his head back, “My sweet girl, always takin’ me so well.”

You are his sweet girl. His sweet girl that likes to get her pussy licked and fucked. His sweet girl that begs for all of her slutty holes to be stuffed and fingered. His sweet girl who pretends to be upset so that he’ll have to fuck her to put a smile on her face. And his sweet girl who is never satisfied, no matter how many times she cums.

“More.” You whispered.

He let you reach for his face and pull him close. You panted as you slotted lips against his, hooking your feet together behind him, encouraging him to fuck you like he’s meant to. You kissed him sloppily, your tongue lapping and sliding against his, licking and tasting him from the inside, remnants of your cum still lingering on his tongue.

Nanami pulled away, a gossamer of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours, that same idle smirk playing his wet lips. “God, you need it don’t you?” He exhaled in a single breath, his eyes searching for yours in the dimly lit room.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your head to chase his fleeting lips. He kissed you back like before except this time, he was unhooking your legs to grip the back of your thighs, pinning them to the duvet and spreading you completely open for him. You want to get fucked? He’ll do just that. You deserve it after all.

The warm stretch of his cock as he split you open made your head spin. You sucked him in greedily, your wet walls kissing him so sweetly. He filled you so well, almost too perfectly, like he was hand tailored for you and you only. You could hardly breathe as he leaned forward, angling his hips slightly downward to lick at your neck. You whined as he licked a long, ponderous strip from your collar bone, to the shell of your ear, sealing it with a kiss, his thrusts still heavy and sharp, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix.

Each time his hips collided with yours, the sound of skin against skin was all that could be heard along with your choked whimpers and huffs of his breath against your neck, his thrusts heavy and deep. Nanami was losing himself as he fucked you, heavy balls slapping the thick of your ass, fat cock bullying its way deeper and deeper inside of you. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to stuff his cum inside of you, tainting you with his seed, claiming you all for himself for eternity.

“My sweet girl needed me to fuck her like this, huh?” He cooed, his hand sliding up your stomach to grip your cheeks gingerly, forcing your lips into a pout. “Needed me to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness like some kind of slut,” He kissed you sweetly, “I love it… makes me so hard… it hurts, baby. But I love it so much.” He babbled, kissing you sloppily between breaths.

It was a mess, all of it. Your cunt glistened in a sinful mixture of arousal while Nanami kissed you messily with his tongue lolled out, even the subtle exchange of saliva had you so aroused that you could cry, only adding to the wet mess the two of you created. You curled your toes as your eyes welled with tears, his thumb pressing against your clit, lips slotted against yours. It was all too much, your poor head was so empty and sore.

“I love when you turn me into this,” He confessed, his infatuation for you so ardently evident, “even think about you at work too y’know… get me so fuckin’ worked up… m’always so hard when I think about you. You make me crazy, I swear.” He inhaled a tight breath as he fought the gnawing urge to cum.

You gasped as he slipped out of you to lay down on the bed, pulling you with him. He put you on your side and tucked himself behind you, gripping the back of your thigh and hiking your leg to slip his cock back inside of you with a groan. Desperately, he fucked himself into you from the behind, his warm breaths lost in your neck, cock slipping in and out of you, wet balls kissing your ass with an obscene schlop.

“Think about you too, Nami.” You whispered, turning your head to meet his face, “M-missed you so much—fuck…”

Nanami grinned lazily, his nose brushing yours, “Yeah? You missed me baby? Do you touch yourself when I’m away? Thinkin’ ‘bout me fucking you just like this while you play with that pretty pussy?” His voice honeyed and sweet, thick with genuine curiosity and lust.

You hummed in agreement, huffing out short breaths in sync with the thrust of his hips. You could feel yourself slipping into a place of no return, a place so far gone, so depraved, that you were afraid you’d lose yourself and cream all over him, ruining the freshly washed sheets. Your walls squeezed the length of his cock, begging him to spill inside of you and Nanami was feral as he fucked you stupid, cresent-shaped nails digging into your thighs, his breath hitching with each inhale.

“Want your c-cum,” You slurred, your pretty face contouring in your own need to release, “want you to cum inside of me… show me how much you really love ‘n appreciate me with your babies. Need your babies, Nami… please?”

His cock twitched, “F-fuck, is that what you need? Will that make you happy, sweetheart?”

You mouthed a silent plea, nodding to him with parted lips. He gripped your face softly, bringing you close to taste your swollen lips for the umpteenth time tonight. There was nothing you needed more. Absolutely nothing on earth would satisfy you more than taking all of his cum like a good girl should. You dreamt of getting knocked up by Nanami, your stomach so cute and round as you waddled around the house with a gracious smile.

“Say it, baby, please, will you?” He begged softly, his hips stuttering as his thrusts grew sloppier, “Say you want me to breed you and make you a mommy… please, baby, fuck.” He gasped as his impending orgasm coiled in his abdomen, threatening to tear him apart.

“Need you to make me a mommy, Nanami… been such a good girl for you. I deserve it, please.” You brainlessly babbled.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—okay, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” He moaned, “Gonna give my good girl all of my cum, such a pretty fuckin’ girl… deserves all my cum—oh my God.”

He whined shamelessly, his erratic breaths soon turned into broken ones, each of them interrupted with a whimper or hiss. His chest heaved as his lower stomach began to tighten, his wet cock throbbing inside of you, the head weeping against your cervix. Eventually, that winding coil in the pit of his stomach snapped, releasing itself in several spurts of thick, milky cum, coating your walls in his viscous seed. Still, he bucked his hips into you, his cock accidently slipping out a few times and pushing against you clit from the force of his thrusts only for your greedy hand to reach down to tuck him back inside, allowing him to fuck his cum as deep as he could, none of it going to waste.

“You gonna cum for me, hm? Make a mess after you’ve just cleaned the house?” He cooed, reaching a hand down your body to play with your clit, tracing small, tight circles around the sensitive bud, encouraging your looming orgasm.

You squeaked a small yes in response, eyes falling shut as you felt your orgasm swelling. His voice only pushed you further, his encouraging words and sweet nothings coaxing you. He was sending you so far, stringing you along so thin, beckoning you to cum all over him and make a mess. His cum seeped from your pussy, dribbling onto the satin sheets in a sinful puddle beneath you and you could only whine as your soft walls fluttered around him.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, kissing you sweetly, “Cum for me, my pretty baby, c’mon.” He encouraged, “Cum for me like I know you need to—yessss, baby, yes cum just like that… all over my cock, fuck.”

After ensuring you were thouroughly fucked through your orgasm, his thrusts slowed and eventually, his hips stilled completely. He slipped out of you, nearly cumming again as he watched your pulsing cunt push out his seed, his cock too dripping in a sweet layer of cum and arousal. He almost couldn’t help the hand that slipped between your legs, fingers finding your pussy to gather his cum on the tips, pummeling it deeper inside of you.

It was too much, too sensitive. You shook your head as you whined in overwhelming pleasure, pushing your thighs together and forcing his hand away. Nanami hushed you with a kiss, explaining that he would prefer his cum not to go to waste. He just wanted to make sure his seed was planted, make sure that you’d get pregnant and there was no doubt you’d end up plump and full with his baby. He turned you to face him, shuffling close so his nose could touch yours.

“You’d make the most beautiful mother.” He smiled gently, peeling the disheveled hair off of your face, baring your blushed cheeks and sweat-ridden forehead.

His heart swelled when you beamed in return, your eyes fluttering sheepishly as sleep loomed. Nanami thought you looked prettiest like this, so raw and exposed in your post-orgasmic state. He could see right through you like a glass house in broad daylight. There was almost an internal glow within you, a radiating brightness that consumed everything in its wake and he adored that about you. Possibly the reason he fell so hard all those years ago.

“You really are so beautiful to me.” He breathed as if coming to the realization all over again, “I love you and it hurts my heart when I disappoint you.” He frowned.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Nami. Just don’t let it happen again, hm?” You partly joked as you squinted, shooting him playful daggers.

He kissed your nose too, “It won’t happen again.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

Hey, you! Did you like this? Click here for more!

#nanami kento #jjk smut #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen smut

1K notes · View notes

brodieland · 4 months

Note

Heyyyy, so idk if you do this or notttt but could you write a nonevil!Luke AU where he moves in with Y/N after he gets too old for camp and after a few months they “adopt” Annabeth (she just stays w them during the school year) if not that’s ok! 🩵🩵

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 New York New Home !! ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader Synopsis: moving in with Luke, with a little Annabeth by your sides!! Tag(s): BLURB, cursing, nun to much Word Count: 842 A/N: ugh why are they such cutiesss

You sighed as you plopped your self onto the cold island in your brand new kitchen. When you and your boyfriend Luke turned 20, you both thought it was finally time to leave camp, make a life for yourself and move in together. It was the end of summer, beginning of August to be exact, but the heat still ripped through the apartment as if it were June.

"Yeah yeah, just sit there and look pretty," Luke grunted as he placed another box in the living room. "No need to help!"

You smiled and rolled over to your stomach, this kitchen was huge!! You rested your head on your hands as your feet swung in the air as you admired your sweaty boyfriend. The way his muscles were flexing as he lifted something heavy and his shirt sticking to him from his sweat made him look so yummy!!!

Luke just laughed as he walked over to you and leaned over you on the counter, "Pictures last longer y'know."

"Why take a picture when I can have the real thing," you gloated. He leaned down and slowly kissed you. He had one hand on your cheek while your cherry flavored chapstick drove him crazy.

"Yuck," Annabeth fake gagged as she walked through the door, with her book bag slung on her shoulders and duffel in hand. The two of you decided it would be best to take Annabeth with you and give her a home during the school year. You and Luke pulled away and looked toward the 13 year old girl who was sending disgusted looks towards the two of you. "Do I have to stay here, is this what I'm in for?"

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Luke chuckled as he ruffled her hair.

"Yeah Annie, we want you here," you said as you hopped off the counter, pulling down your lifted shirt. "You can even go to school now, you know how much you have to learn to be an architect?"

She sighed and smiled as she agreed, "guess your right."

"Ooh! Let's show you your room," you clapped as you held her hand and dragged her to an empty room. "Ta-Da!!"

You held out your hands as you showed off Annabeth's new room. You pointed toward the big window that looked over Times Square. Being a model with a boyfriend who can be a really good klepto whenever he wants can really rack up the cash. Luke just stayed back, leaning on the door way while the both of you geeked over the view.

Annabeth pulled her small digital camera from her bag and handed it to you, "Here, here, take my picture." She smiled and posed with a proud face as if she herself were the one who built the buildings.

"Perfect," you handed back the camera. "Sending it to someone?"

"Oh yeah, I wanted to show Percy the new house, especially the view."

"I'm pretty sure he knows little more about Time Square than you do," Luke joked, causing her to just roll her eyes, and grunt out a whatever. What a teenager in the making.

"You should invite him over and hang out before school starts. And you know we got you a trundle bed, if you wanted to have a sleepover or something."

"You'd let Percy sleepover?"

"We were thinking more like Thalia, now that she's back on her feet," Luke said.

"Yeah, your right," she chuckled.

"We'll let you get settled in," you smiled as you walked out with Luke trailing in behind you. You stared out into the empty living room, smiling while thinking about how you and Luke live together. He walked up behind you, hugging you by the waist. "We should really get some furniture."

"Why, I mean I don't mind sleeping on the floor. Childhood memories," he joked. You softly smacked his arm.

"Not funny."

"Your smiling."

"C'mere," you grabbed his hand, this time going to your room across the apartment. "This one's ours."

Your room was just as empty, but had the same view as Annabeth, just about an apartment length to the left. You walked back up to the window, place your hands on the glass. "So many people down there, we definitely need some curtains. Can't let someone catch me changing."

Luke came from behind you again, placing his hands next to yours, caging you in. "I don't know, don't you think they'd enjoy the free show?"

"You're such an ass," you smiled, turning around and placing your hands on his face. You pulled him down, and kissed him once more. Luke moved his hands from the glass down to your hips, pressing you on the glass behind you.

"Guys do you know how - AGAIN," Annabeth groaned at the sight of you two for the second time today. She just turned around and slammed the two shut while you and Luke exchanged looks. The two of you bursted out in laughter while Annabeth slowly creeped the door open again, "I still need help with something."

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #Luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #annabeth chase #annabeth pjo #annabeth chase pjo

475 notes · View notes

lovecla · 9 days

Text

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter eight:

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 3.6k

➴ author’s note: don’t you guys love when people kiss and make up?

sophiamontenegro

liked by taylorzakharperez, zendaya, billboard and 2,692,102 others.

sophiamontenegro thanks for having me, new york 🎅🏻

View all 20,672 comments

mtv JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

trevorzegras you should’ve come to anaheim

sophiamontenegro @.trevorzegras and u should fuck off

ilovhockey77 @sophiamontenegro @.trevorzegras I wanna know the beef between them so bad someone put me in soph’s close friends list

saraunyn @ilovhockey77 im pretty sure its just Trevor who doesn’t know how to take a hint…

arianagrande i love you

morgan.grace you’re so fucking hot Sophia the hell

lovssoph PROUD TO SAY THAT I WAS IN THAT CROWD

— ♡

DECEMBER always brought more work than you’d like to have but for the first time since you started working as a singer, you were grateful for it.

You had so many appearances, so many fans to see, so many concerts to do. You were grateful singing was your favorite thing to do because time passed and you didn’t even notice it.

But, now some of the fuss calmed down and you were able to spend time doing things that weren’t related to your career, like;

“Sophia, come on, you’re gonna be late!” Grace shouted from the living room and you laughed, pouring the butter flavored popcorn into a bowl. “Sophia!”

“Jesus, Grace, calm down,” you shouted back, looking for napkins. “It’s not like we have to be there or whatever.”

Today the Devils were playing against the Blackhawks and Grace asked you if you both could watch it at your house.

“We don’t have to if you think it will make you sad, but i really wanted to watch Nico tonight.” Grace smiled, not even trying to hide how she was head over heels for him.

“It’s okay, Grace, I swear. I want to see Nico too,” you smiled, trying to hide the fact that you’d secretly been watching all of their games, desperate to catch a glimpse of Jack’s blue eyes. “We can do a girls night.”

“But you’re losing all the good shit,” she whined. “The Blackhawks players are fine, too. That Bedard kid is a cute, little honeybun.”

You chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and sitting on the couch beside her, putting the bowl on the table.

“He has a girlfriend, y’know. He dates his teammate’s sister, Ellie I think.”

“Oh, I think I saw a picture of them together at a party last month,” she tapped her chin with her index finger. “They do look cute together.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, watching as the commentator introduced the players. “Who do you think is going to win?”

“Girl, I don’t like to tell anyone my predictions because what if I jinx it?” She stared at you, like you were crazy just for asking.

You rolled your eyes. “Ever since you and Nico started fucking you became awfully surpersticious.”

“Sophia Montenegro!” She raised her arms, kicking you with her feet. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your sister.”

“Which gives me permission to say that you and Nico are fucking. Who cares?” You kicked her back, starting a kicking fight.

You both just stopped when you were both out of breath and the game was starting. The first period was going surprisingly smooth for the Blackhawks, which made you— secretly— worry.

Jack has probably seen better days. You would always say that he’s the number one player in the team because for you he absolutely is, but even someone who didn’t know anything about Hockey could tell that he was lacking.

You bit your lips and squeezed your thighs because, even after everything, Jack looked so fucking good. Especially with the black Devils uniform. He looked handsome and you knew that he was all of that, and he’d always be.

Sometimes you’d think about how good the sex between the two of you was, and you’d wonder if you’d find anything like that ever again.

At the end of the first period, the scoreboard read 2-1, the Blackhawks winning. You and Grace were in the middle of a discussion about how her ex looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo when the commentator started showing the celebrities who showed up to the game.

“Who even cares about the celebrities who showed up?” You threw popcorn at the screen. “Or even better, since when do they show celebrities? Aren’t they supposed to be interviewing the players or whatever?”

“You know a lot for someone who doesn’t watch the games,” Grace teased you, and you just pushed a handful of popcorn inside your mouth. “And sorry to say this, sweetie, but if people didn’t care about celebrities, you and I wouldn’t have a job.”

You rolled your eyes, paying attention to the TV again.

“So, tell me, Nat, I’ve heard that we have some pretty famous people here today.” The announcer talked to the reporter who was standing in some kind of expensive room Sophia didn’t know the name of.

The black woman just smiled, nodding her head and bringing the microphone closer to her face.

“That’s right, Shaan. Some well known people blessed us with their presence here today…”

“I hope it's Ariana Grande or some shit like that.” Grace muttered beside you.

“Oh remind me to call her later, I need to visit her next time I’m in LA,” you replied mindlessly, still watching the sports channel.

“…And among all of these people, we have the one and only, Harris Dickinson and his girlfriend, Chloe McGill!”

“What?!” You heard Grace yelling beside you, which confirmed that what you were seeing wasn’t just your head trying to play games with you.

There he stood, in all his glory, with the cocky smirk that once gave you butterflies and was now making you sick, with his arm wrapped around a girl’s waist.

“Am I tripping or that girl looks awfully like you?”

You looked at the scene in front of you, where the reporter was now interviewing Harris with an enthusiastic smile. The girl beside him, Chloe you think, indeed looked a lot like you.

“She… she looks just like how I did when I started dating him,” you concluded, feeling sick all over again. “Even the fucking bangs, Grace.”

She put her hand on your left arm, caressing you. “I’m so sorry, bubba. Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No, ‘course not,” you reassured her, trying to smile. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Grace whispered. “Okay.”

“…I’m just happy to be here, y’know?” Harris stated, still showing his pearly white teeth. “I’m a huge Devils fan, just like my girl here.”

“That’s the biggest lie he’s ever said,” you laughed, feeling sorry for how pathetic he is. “He deadass couldn’t even stand the thought of Hockey, or any sport for that matter. What the hell is he even saying?”

“Well, apparently that little girlfriend of his, is the daughter of one of the Devils’ coaches,” Grace promptly replied, and you looked at her, ready to ask how the hell she knew that, but seeing the phone in her hand. “They’re like, rich as fuck.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Harris’ type to me.” You mumbled, praying that the second period would come faster.

And maybe God did hear your prayers because not even five minutes later, the Devils and the Blackhawks were back on the ice. The game was nerve wracking, your nails and eardrums long gone from how much you’d bitten them and how loud Grace screamed during the game.

Jack was smooth on ice, the best you’ve seen him playing all season, even before you and him fought. It was satisfying to watch him doing what he loved and you were happy that he was finally getting back on track.

Two hours later, the game ended; the Devils won. Grace cheered and jumped around while you laughed at her, happy to see her happy. Even if you didn’t understand much of hockey and even if you didn’t care about it, you were also thrilled, because you knew Jack would be happy.

You kinda hated your mind for always thinking about him but you couldn’t help it. Not when you saw how handsome he looked and not when you still loved him. A lot.

The same reporter from before, Nat, continued to talk, interviewing some of the players from the team. Grace whined about being hungry and you rolled your eyes, getting up to cook for her.

“What do you want?” You asked, opening your cabinets. “I can make pasta for us.”

“Ugh, yes, please,” she fake-moaned and you laughed. “If I’m going to fuck Nico tonight, Imma need all the carbs in the world,”

“You’re disgusting. I hope you know that,” you answered back, putting the water to boil.

“For Nico Hischier? Hell yes I am!”

You cut the onions and garlic, before putting olive oil on a separate pan and adding them. Grace continued to yap about the game, pointing out all the best players and who she liked best, while you just nodded and cooked.

“Ooh, they’re having a fancy celebrating party tonight!” She yelled from the living room, even if you could still see her and the TV because you had an open kitchen, grabbing your attention. “Is it a gala? I hope it is, Hockey players look so fucking good in suits.”

“And they say I’m the horny one…” you mumbled, putting the tomato sauce inside the pan.

“Can this woman give us some information we actually want to hear? I don’t care if they have points or not, I just want to see them in suits!”

“She’s just doing her job, Grace, stop being a whore.”

Moving around the kitchen, you finished Grace’s dinner, and grabbed a plate for her, not after filling up a glass of cold water and grating some cheese.

You went back to the living room, placing everything in front of her, while she hugged you from behind, giving you neck kisses.

“I am going to wife you up, baby!”

You giggled. “Shut up and eat, weirdo,”

She just let you go and sat on the floor, swallowing the pasta like it was her last meal.

You both watched as they showed the party, all of the players there, people laughing and smiling for pictures. Jack wasn’t interacting with the reporters, and you thought it was weird, even if you knew he low-key hated them.

“…so, yeah, I’m definitely happy we won tonight but we still have to work hard—” Mercer suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence, leaving the woman— Nat— beside him confused. He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “Is that Jack fighting someone? That’s sick! Film that, baldy!” He asked the cameraman.

You and Grace stopped talking and stared at each other. The camera suddenly changed angles and showed a body you knew way too well on top of another body you, unfortunately, also knew well.

“Jesus, Jack is punching Harris in the face!” Grace announced, like you weren’t watching it yourself.

The angles weren’t good because you’d bet money the cameraman wasn’t expecting to record a fight tonight, but it was still pretty damn clear that Jack was punching Harris’ face repeatedly, while his girlfriend screamed and cried and the other players tried to get him off Harris’ face.

Harris fought back, but even though he tried, he wasn’t used to fighting. Unlike Jack, who threw every punch with force and precision.

“It seems like our number eighty-six, Jack Hughes, is having a fist fight with the actor Harris Dickinson!”

“Stop trying to state the obvious, bitch, film the fucking fight!” Grace yelled.

“Grace, calm down.” you whispered, watching as the camera focused on Jack again, this time him being dragged by Nico and Nathan while he shouted at them to let him go.

This was bad. Like, bad, truly bad. They focused on Harris’ face for just a second, and it was enough— his face was all bloody and he was probably going to have a black eye for a week, with how swollen his eye was. Jack had most likely broken his nose and shit wasn’t looking good.

“Oh my God, why did he do this!” You got up from the couch, pacing around the room. “Fuck, does he know what this is going to do to him? Harris is dating the Coach’s daughter, what the hell!”

Grace was also too stunned to speak, something that did not happen often. You could tell she was just as distressed as you.

“Harris Dickinson is going to the hospital with his girlfriend Chloe and his father-in-law, Coach Ryan McGill.”

“What the fuck, this is bad,” you put your hands on your head, trying to figure out what to do. “I need to do something.”

Grace sighed, loudly. “I should be the brain in our friendship but… yeah. I mean, I know you guys are out of contact right now but this… he definitely did this for you…”

“Yeah, Grace, make me feel worse, go ahead.” You hissed.

“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, baby, you know why he did that!” She raised her arms. “You should talk to him. This obviously isn’t working for any of you.”

“Grace—”

“No, you will hear me now!” She talked on top of you, also getting up. “I’ve watched you put on a fake smile and pretend you’re fine and I didn’t say anything because I knew you had to figure it out yourself, but I can’t do this anymore. You’re drowning yourself in work, you spend half of your time at your studio and the other half at John’s studio. You don’t go out, you don’t live.”

“Grace.” You tried again.

“And usually I’d say something like: ‘get over that fucking asshole’ or ‘he isn’t worth it’!” She walked back and forth. “But the worst part is that Nico told me Jack is just like you!”

That made you stop. “What?”

“He’s not at parties, he’s not hanging out with the team, he’s not goofing around. All he does is sleep, eat and go to practice. And, fuck, Nico doesn’t know what to do because Jack never acted like this before.”

“Grace, what…” you breathed, almost yanking your hoodie with how much force you were holding it. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s so fucking obvious you both love each other yet you won’t do anything!” She lamented, staring at your eyes. “I can’t watch you fall apart like this. You have to tell him that you want to be with him.”

“Grace, I can’t— I can’t do that.” You stuttered, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Sophia,” she whispered, grabbing your hands. “That man loves you. He just punched your ex-boyfriend on national television, with everyone watching. I stand with what I said back at that dreadful Halloween party, I’ve seen how he looks at you. And he loves you. Jack Hughes loves you, Sophia.”

You let her words sink in, nodding once. Grace was bossy, delusional and a bit insane too but she was right. You needed to do something.

“Okay,” you agreed, holding her against your body. “What do I do?”

“Shit, I didn’t think you’d agree with what I was saying… I don’t know?”

“You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” you laughed and she pinched your butt. “I think… I think I’m going to his house.”

“That’s a bald ass move and so right. Want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m good. I don’t even know if he’ll hear me out but I’ll try?” You stepped back, grabbing your car keys and purse.

“Call me if anything goes wrong,” she blinked, going back to the couch. “If you don’t, I’ll call you and risk interrupting your fuck.”

“Like I’d ever pick up,” you joked, leaving the house.

Jack lived thirty minutes away from you, and alongside with that, it was a Friday night in Newark— of course the streets were filled with cars. It took you an hour to get there but even so, Jack’s car wasn’t parked in front of his garage like it used to.

You turned your car off, and waited. You could wait outside but with how cold it was, it was safer for you to wait inside. You couldn’t risk getting sick.

Seconds turned into minutes and when the one hour mark came, you sighed.

“Maybe he isn’t coming home tonight,” you said to no one, tired of waiting. You knew you could call him, but you weren't entirely sure he’d pick up. “Maybe it’s just traffic.”

You decided to wait a little bit more, half an hour. If Jack wasn’t there by the end of it, you’d just come back tomorrow. Fortunately, shortly after that, Jack’s car was parked outside of his house.

You watched as he got out of it, opened the back door and grabbed his duffel bag. Taking a deep breath, you left your car and closed the door silently.

Walking to his porch with fast steps, you called him. “Jack!”

He stopped immediately, turning around to face you. He had a bandage on his eyebrow and one on his cheek. Your heart tugged on your chest.

“Soph?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

You stepped closer, smiling awkwardly.

“Hi,” you said, softly, putting your hands inside your pockets. “Can we… hum… talk?”

He stared at you for a second, before nodding and turning around again, opening his door and letting you inside the house first. You thanked him and stepped inside, taking in the sight you missed so much, his home.

You both stayed quiet for a while; he put his things away and you stood there, weirdly. You didn’t know how to start the conversation, so you just stared at him. He looked tired, dark circles adorning his face, hair messy and face a bit swollen. Even if he looked hurt, he looked ten thousand times better than Harris, who was probably in the emergency room at the local hospital.

“Jack,” you started, noticing how his body went stiff and he stopped moving. “Why did you do it?”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply, stepping closer and putting your hand on his face, feeling the hotness of it, and realizing you missed him more than you knew.

“Jesus, Jack, do you even realize what you did?” You whispered, moving your thumb up and down. “He’s dating your coach’s daughter. He’s a powerful man, baby.” The pet name slipped out of your tongue, but you didn’t want to take it back.

“Fuck,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist and kissing it. “Say it again, Soph.”

Maybe someone else would need him to clarify it better, explain further. But not you. Not when the love you felt for him ran deep inside your soul.

“Baby,” you whispered again, watching as he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Sophia, fuck, what did you do to me?” His voice sounded so tender, you could feel your body wanting nothing more than to melt inside his arms. “I can’t— Fuck.”

“Jack, you need to understand that what you did, baby, it could cost you a lot—”

“I know. Soph, I know that. And I still would break his asshole’s nose again and again.”

“Why did you do it?”

He stepped away, and you immediately wanted him to come back. “Why did I do it? Isn’t it obvious?” He laughed, humorlessly. “Sophia, I am in love with you. I love you.”

You felt your cheeks getting wet, and only then did you realize you were crying.

“I didn’t understand it sooner because, hell, I have never loved a woman before that wasn’t my mom, and even then, it’s not even close to what I feel towards you,” he ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think being in a relationship was for me, I didn’t even want it. But now I look at you and—” he looked at you, blue eyes brighter than you’d ever seen. “I look at you and I realize you’re all I want.”

You were fully crying now, the tears running down your face like models on a runway. Your hands were shaking, and you wanted to scream at him.

“You’re it for me, baby,” he stepped closer, gently putting his hands on your waist, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I know that you’re upset, and I know this isn’t easy for you. We all got bags full of shit that we don’t want, but I will unpack them for you, baby. Just… just let me.”

“Jack,” you sniffled, trying to stop crying. “I need you to know that I love you, too. But,” you pressed your lips together, organising your thoughts. “You need to know that sometimes it’s going to be hard for me. I don’t trust so easily anymore and I’m sorry for it but that’s just who I am.”

You could swear you could feel his smile, while he held you tighter. “It’s okay, Soph. When I tell you that I want you, I don’t mean only the good parts. I want you whole. I want the bad, the good and the in-between,”

“What if,” you hold him impossibly closer. “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

“Tired of you?” He chuckled. “I want to marry you.”

You stepped away from his like he was on fire. Frowning, you raised your finger.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Hughes. Besides that, you’re literally twenty-two.”

“I don’t mind you being my old sugar mommy,” he shrugged, smiling.

“Call me old again, Jack Hughes, and I promise you will never hear from me again.” You smiled too, and for the first time in probably two months, it felt real.

“Yes, ma’am,” he stopped smiling, stepping closer to you again. Holding your wrists to his mouth, he kissed the right first before moving onto the next. After he was done, he placed them on his neck, grabbing your waist.

You stood on your toes, trying to stay face to face with him.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You smiled. “I guess you can.”

“You guess?” He bickered back, plastering his white teeth for you. “Can I kiss you, baby?” He whispered, kissing your cheeks. Then your nose, then your forehead. Always gentle and steady. “Soph, sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you just glued your lips together, moaning because you had missed this so much. His lips felt like the sweetest thing in the world and when he touched your tongue with his, you were sure you had turned into butter and was now melting.

Maybe your forever wasn’t so distant at all.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader

170 notes · View notes

mosscreektarot · 13 days

Text

New PAC!

Where You Belong/Where You Should Move

Thank you for the request, anon!

Pile 1: Ease

Down a long dirt road, within a day's drive of your current area. Open your eyes and look around. You want to be close to your family, but *not too close*, ya know? You may want to be out in the sticks somewhere at a remote job where you never see another human being and take hikes in your backyard. You'll get there.

Pile 2: Energetic Clearing

With friends or roomies. You need the energy of others and it will help you reach your financial goals as well as save some much needed money! You may not need to move to a different city, but merely re-think the people who surround you and find more like minded individuals to connect with.

Pile 3: Flow

Near Water. You have to be by a body of water, whether it's by lake, river or (preferably) ocean, you thrive when there is a body of water nearby to decompress in. This ideally would be in a foreign country with more equitable laws than your own. Time to prepare for change and make it so you can move forward.

Pile 4: Grief

You need out of your current situation/surroundings and it will happen by spring. There has been/will be an end to a relationship or housing arrangement, but things will change for you. Don’t get tunnel vision when searching for a new arrangement. Recognize you are building the blocks to a stronger foundation despite the challenges you face.

Pile 5:

"A weird city". New York, Austin, Paris, Tokyo, New Orleans, Bangkok...places of flavor, flair, and individuality. You may think it's a pipe dream to get to your dream location, but you'll never get there if you don't have a plan to enact. Start forming a plan and taking steps to move to your dream location; it's not impossible, you just need to work for it.

#pick a card #tarot reading #free reading #free tarot reading #free pick a card #tarot #tarot readers of tumblr #tumblr tarot #witches of tumblr #witchcraft #PAC #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pac reading

201 notes · View notes

adrienneleclerc · 6 months

Text

Little Bit of Food

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N sees a TikTok video of couple where the women serves her partner more food on his plate than on hers. For research purposes, she just wants to see how he would react.

Warning: no translated Spanish, spelling and grammar errors, SHORT

A/N: since I am Mexican and Peruvian, the foods mentioned are typical foods that I grew up eating, I LOVE these foods so much, if any other Latine readers have suggestions of what dishes should be mentioned, comment below and I’ll tag you when I use them in another one shot. Also, sorry if it’s short, I don’t think I can build off a lot of “story material” over a TikTok trend, you know?

Y/N was watching TikTok and she saw a video that was interesting to her.

It was of a couple and a woman served her husband more food on his plate than on her own. The husband insisted that his wife should have more food and that he could eat something later.

Y/N knew that Henry was going to busy at the gym for a few hours so that gave her plenty of time to make one of Henry’s favorite meals that Y/N introduced him to, and that’s bistec a lo pobre. She bought sliced New York steaks from the Mexican grocery store (there’s always a butcher there), also some tortillas and 2 avocados to make guacamole or a sandwich later. When she went back to Henry’s house, she started cutting up tomatoes and onions so it would give the steak flavor. She put the onions and tomatoes aside in a bowl and got out the white rice in the pantry to wash the rice.

Half an hour later, Henry was came through the door sweaty and with a happy Kal.

“Ay hola, Kal, como te fue con tu papi, hm?” Y/N asked, kneeling to pet Kal.

“You call me papi?” Henry asked, drinking water from his sports bottle.

“When I’m talking about you to Kal, yes. Ain’t no way I’m calling you that though, it’s weird because I call my actual dad, papi. So don’t even think about it.” Y/N warned Henry as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

“Too late, I’m already thinking about, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her cheek as he hugged her from behind.

“Stop it. I’m making your favorite so please take a quick shower and then I’ll call you when it’s ready. Do you want one or two eggs?” Y/N asked.

“Two please, thanks love.” Henry said, kissing her lips before heading upstairs for his shower.

Y/N began sautéing the onions and tomatoes in the pan before adding in two pieces of steak for Henry, we’ll, one and a half, she cut a half piece for her plate. She got a plate out of the pantry to serve two ‘scoops’ of rice, adding the cooked steaks with tomatoes and onions on top of it, and preceded to fry two eggs on a different pan.

“Toro, food!” Y/N shouted and Kal calming running. “I said ‘toro’, not ‘oso’, you need to practice your Spanish, Kal.” Y/N said and placed Henry’s plate on his side of the table. Henry came running downstairs with his hair wet but he’s dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt.

“Thanks love, it looks amazing.” Henry said, kissing her.

“That’s good, now eat up, you’ve had a long workout.” Y/N said and that’s when she got a smaller plate, served herself a half scoop of rice, her half steak with 3 pieces of tomatoes and onions, and no eggs. When she sat down and said “let’s eat”, Henry looked at Y/N’s plate, then at his own.

“Darling, were you snacking while you were cooking again?” Henry asked, trying to find a reasonable explanation for the lack of food on his girlfriend’s plate.

“No, no, I didn’t snack at all. Eat before the eggs become cold.” Y/N pointed at him with her fork.

“Are you sick? You didn’t have to cook if you weren’t feeling well, love.” Henry said in a concerned voice.

“I’m fine Henry, I went to Fernando’s market today but the steak was too expensive so I only bought 2.” Y/N lied, she buys like half a pound of steak, there’s still 3 or 4 pieces in the fridge. Henry got up and grabbed his keys. “Where are you going?”

“To the market to buy more steak, what cut do you order a again? Med-ee-ya Libra de what?” Henry asked, opening the door,

“No no no, Henry, there’s no need for that, I can survive without bistec, please sit down and eat.” Y/N said, Henry closed the door, put down his keys, and sat back down.

“What about the eggs or the rice? I’m sure you could fill up on that, you told me you ate that when you were younger when there was nothing to eat.” Henry said.

“The last eggs were used on you, Toro. Now please eat before your food gets cold. You want something to drink? I got chicha (It’s a purple corn drink) if you don’t want soda.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, that’s fine, darling.” Henry said, when Y/N walked into the kitchen, Henry switched his plate for Y/N’s. When Y/N came back with chicha for Henry and soda for her, she saw what Henry did.

“Toro! You weren’t supposed to do that. You had a big workout, you’re bigger than me, you need all the protein you can get from this.” Y/N said, trying to switch the plates back but Henry refused.

“Nope, you cooked all this, you deserve to eat your delicious food. I could find something later.” Henry said,

“But you must be hungry, just eat it, I can make myself some potato quesadillas later.” Y/N said, attempting to get the plate back from Henry but he swatted her hand. “Toro!”

“I’m sorry love, but it’s for your good.” Henry said.

“I Don’t want you to be starving,” Y/N said,

“I won’t starve, my love. Watching you enjoy your food is filling enough for me.” Henry said and Y/N’s heart melted. She got out of her seat to sit on Henry’s lag, placing her hands on his neck to hug him.

“Amor, it’s a prank. There’s more steak in the fridge that I can fry up, there’s a lot of rice on the stove and plenty of eggs. Now please eat while I go serve myself more food.” Y/N said getting off him and grabbing her plate to do exactly that.

“You scared me, love. I was about to head over to the market…where is it by the way?” Henry asked,

“Haha, i can’t even tell you, I just know how to get there.” Y/N said, placing her steak in the pan and she watched Henry eat his meal.

“Delicious! This might even be better than your bistec empanado, did I pronounce that right?” Henry asked,

“Yes you did, Toro, but bistec empanado with sopita aguada is comfort food, along with quesadilla de papas, which I will be making tomorrow, I’ve been craving it,” Y/N said.

“That sounds so good, I have to make sure I work out even more. When I made you my girlfriend, I had no idea you would try to fatten me up.” Henry said and Y/N gasped, flipping the steak.

“I would never, how dare you accuse me. I’m gonna make flan for my friend’s birthday on Saturday so I’m gonna make another one just for us.” Y/N said and that made Henry laugh.

“I love your flan, darling. Your cooking skills put mine to shame.” Henry said. Y/N placed her steak on her place, serving more rice, and began frying an egg.

“I was born with that sazón, Toro.” Y/N said teasingly. She finished frying the egg, served it on her plate, and went to sit down. “Better?” Y/n asked, showing Henry her plate.

“Much better, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her. Kal barked. “Yes bear, you can have some steak too.” Henry said,

The End

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction

396 notes · View notes

mccoyquialisms · 5 months

Text

More bits from the 1st night of the London D20 live show that brought me joy:

The little “ooooohhhhHHHH” bit everyone in the atrium did as they were rolling the bingo cages for their characters

How NUTS everyone went when Lou got Fabian and everyone started chanting “hoot growl”

A second, just as loud cheer when Siobhan got Adaine and her and Lou ran around the stage together

Siobhan, unprompted: “GIVE ADAINE A GUN!”

Emily has apparently named a stray cat after Plug <3

Sydney straight up eating the ground (it’s ice cream, she’s fine. Sort of.)

“It’s a smell so counter to everything human life needs, in a way that almost kills you, but also, only in a way someone from New York can understand, makes you proud.”

The party refusing to call the candy wyverns anything other than “bugs”

Zac interrupting the ongoing banter to announce Skip is already boarded and sucking on the saddle of the wyvern

“I throw a flash grenade.” “I turn into a giant pigeon.” “I cast unseen servant to untie him.” “I shoot a guard.” “Okay, so everyone decides to do something SUPER SUBTLE.”

I mentioned it before but it’s SO good: “the DC is 500. Only a Nat 20 will do it.” Beardsley: [rolls a Nat 20 first try] [pandemonium in the arena]

“Have you seen Succession?”

The gabagool 🤌

“Adaine, we have saved the world multiple times. These are the scariest people we have ever met.”

Lou losing it at Sydney’s grenade having 1 point of poison damage in addition to all the bludgeoning damage

Skip gives Fabian a laser gun. He does not know what it is until he shoots Calroy with it

“Adaine, this gun thing you’re on? I get it.”

Cocaine Bear

“I YEETED YOU!”

Pete and Skip instant besties. Pete and Fabian instant enemies.

“You named him Anus and now I just have to do it the rest of the show!”

“I absolutely hate to add insult to injury…” “THEN DON’T!”

Adaine passing her wisdom save by 1 point to prevent Kugrash’s polymorph spell from turning her into a rat

The absolute ROAR that went up when Skip transformed into Lapin

“Anus?” “Not today.” “Not today WHAT?”

“I thought I was just on another planet starting a revolution I don’t intend to stick around for.” “America!”

Ally confidentially declaring Lapin and Aguefort have swinger vibes

“Do you want to just take him?” “Do you mean in the biblical sense?” “Another exciting use….”

[croaky voice] butterfly in the skyyyy

Pete opening 6 different flavors of seltzer while the rest of the party does kublacaine

Elaine Lee in the house!!!

Kugrash the greatest chaperone who ever lived

Lapin and Aguefort…and they were roommates…..Lapin’s “how do I look?” before they go into the egg fortress lmao

Syd’s perfume missile dealing 68 points of damage to Fabian and instantly knocking him unconscious. “Are you rolling D20s for damage???”

“I’m going to use my tides of chaos to reroll….worse.”

Tina the butterfly familiar that everyone totally remembers

“Well shit, any house where we kill the people in it becomes our house.”

Pete dissing Fabian so hard he feels the toxic masculinity coming back

Lapin requesting an exam extension for Adaine and Fabian from Arthur via dating app

The collective psychic damage everyone took from the “yar har har” scene

“Pete just starts dancing with a scarf in a way no one else has seen before.” “That’s my fucking thing!!!”

Sydney just enabling every pvp encounter alsdkghsdg. Giving Fabian unlimited capacity to his gun as he’s shooting Pete, with Fabian hitting twice and criting once.

“I can pleasure you or throw grenades, you gotta pick one.” “The first one, obviously!” “Okay!”

Lapin, Adaine and Kugrash chain smoking in the corner suffering through the pain of existence while the rest of party goes nuts around them

Murph incorporating the words “come/coming” as much as possible into Kugrash’s farewell speech while Brennan mimes Gilear’s enormous dick behind him. Not even Fabian’s battle sheet is enough to conceal that hog

“That’s right, I’m the king. And then I jump into the dumpster.”

GILEAR…MY…..OLD FRIEND………Aguefort and Gilear fwb real

“Not another person with their penis frozen to the walk in!”

#dimension 20 live #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 live #dropout #my musings #time quangle

162 notes · View notes

solomon-revisited · 2 months

Text

my copy has finally arrived... sixteen old songs from my earnest friends

THE CORONER'S GAMBIT LINER NOTES

TRANSCRIPT:

HE was a guy from California who'd fallen in love with a woman from Iowa. She was working at a water testing lab. They lived in a very small house whose pipes froze every winter. The landlord would come by and put space heaters under the sink. Years later, they retained the memory of the water coming back on - the sudden sound of the shower, the rush from the sink. They slept on a foam mattress in the bedroom in the summer, and on the couch in the living room in the winter, since the house did not have central heating, rendering the bedroom essentially uninhabitable from December through March.

They were not really the kind of people to plan things: they had fun when and where they could on an austere budget. The ice skates they bought used from Play It Again Sports made for fun Christmas mornings on West Indian Creek in Nevada, one town over from where they lived. He learned to cook, and to bake: they didn't go out to eat, because there really wasn't any place to go out and eat, though on occasion they would get a pizza from Casey's, because their town had a Casey's. Under the right circumstances a gas station pizza can be just the thing, and they sometimes found themselves in those circumstances.

He made music which was slowly reaching a wider audience. If he played in New York or Chicago as many as a hundred people might show up. He was idly entertaining the idea of becoming ambitious about it: as a child, he'd been pretty pretentious, and although he was working hard to shake most of that off, a little pretension isn't a bad thing in an artist. Just as a seasoning, as a little extra flavor here or there.

One summer he took a job as a harvest help at the Farmers Cooperative Exchange down the street from the very small house where the pipes froze in winter: getting the corn and soybeans into the grain elevator and into a big Morton building where the beans formed giant mountains, which he sometimes had to climb to knock down the peaks. If you don't knock down the peaks the beans get too hot and might rot. The job didn't pay much, and he wasn't good at it, but during slow stretches he would write song lyrics on scraps of paper or in a small notebook, and when he got home from work and washed off the crop dust, he'd set the lyrics to music. "Elijah" was written like this. So was "The Alphonse Mambo."

He took a Greyhound bus to Omaha to record some of the songs, so that the album would have a nice varied feel to it, but he got very sick, which is not an uncommon thing to have happen after a Greyhound ride, and only a few songs came out the way he wanted. He kept those, and then they got married and moved to Ames because the City of Colo had purchased their home from that landlord and intended to knock it down, which they did do, he affirmed years later: and in Ames he put the album together, and then later they moved to North Carolina and a whole lot of other things happened, too, but the main thing is that this album is a document of a time when two young people in love hadn't yet located the spot on the current that would carry them to their destination, twenty-five years later, parents of two beautiful children, worlds away from Colo, the place where, for better or worse, as the saying goes, all this really began.

Dedicated to my wife, Lalitree, and to the City of Colo, Iowa.

This is the original text of the paper bag that housed the first edition of this album. I am leaving it intact rather than revising it. Stage Bidet's moment comes ever closer: let the people tremble in fear.

Elijah, Baboon, Horseradish Road, Onions, and the Alphonse Mambo recorded in Omaha with Simon Joyner, Chris Deden, Lonnie Methe, Brad Smith, John Kotchen, Steve Micek, and Pat Oakes. All of them are owed money and are to be treated with deference and respect. Five of the remaining songs were recorded at Main St. in Colo, which is a small town in Iowa, and the rest were recorded two blocks north of Emma McCarthy Lee Park in Ames, which is a considerably larger town half and hour west of Colo. Though happy circumstances currently have the Mountain Goats claiming Ames, we continue to straight up represent Colo and will put the slap down on anyone who disrespects it. Transfer and levels by Bob Durkee at FBE in Pomona, California, with Joel Huschle attending. As a result of some regrettable but inevitable conversations that took place during the transfer, Bob, Joel, and the Mountain Goats have formed a new, super-powerful punk rock machine called Stage Bidet, and we urge you to watch for us and clear us a wide berth whenever we're in your town. Instead of thanking all the people I always thank to whom I say, collectively and with no less sincerity: thanks. I am just going to spend the time left us here addressing an absent friend. Rozz: I wish you hadn't've gone and killed yourself. Though I hadn't seen or spoken with you in eight years since that night when, as far as I can tell from the reports I was later able to piece together, you tried, not without reason, to strangle the life out of me out there on the landing of Damien's apartment and I probably never would have ever seen you again anyway, it was still hard to hear that you were gone. All your friends had been predicting your death since the early eighties, and no-one could bear the thought of you growing old, but none of that did anything to soften the blow when I heard. I don't really believe that the dead see or hear what we do out here in the realm of corruptible things and I don't imagine that the anyone reads the scribblings on the backs of album jackets to them, either, so I am really only addressing a memory. To that memory I say: I thought of you now and then when I was writing these songs. I don't suppose they'd do much for you, but I thought of you all the same. All your friends miss you in some way, a little or a lot. The rumors about your final hours are dismal and tawdry: I am sure they would please you immensely. For your sake, I hope that the Christians were wrong and that you were right about whether the faithless are destined for eternal torment. In the event that you are a ghost and are wandering the earth moaning and rattling chains, I moved to Iowa from California four or five years ago, stop by any time. Have a seat on the couch until I get home from work. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator, or to the whiskey and sake on top of it. Make yourself right at home.

Album cover design by Tom Hart

#described #transcribed #tmg #the mountain goats #someone has probably already made this post. but i found it therapeutic to write out.

102 notes · View notes

satoshi-mochida · 10 months

Text

Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling coming west in 2024

Gematsu Source

Idea Factory International will release otome visual novel Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling for Switch in 2024 in the west, the publisher announced.

Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling will launch first in Japan on November 30.

Here is an overview of the game, via Idea Factory International:

About

While working for a major marriage agency named Cupid Corporation, Cupid the goddess of love herself, strived to become the top bridal advisor. She was assigned five hopeless clients known as the Parasite 5! Even after guiding them through mock dates, matchmaking seminars, and the reality show “Parasite House,” all five abruptly canceled their memberships! Yet their departures brought all their personal challenges to the surface. As she confronted these issues with them, they overcame many unexpected obstacles… And she fell in love with “him.” This is the continued love story of the goddess of love, Cupid, experiencing love firsthand. It’s the tale of when she becomes a goddess “only” for him. Marriage wasn’t the end goal, but the start of a new chapter. Whether they began dating or got married, the only thing awaiting them is a series of unexpected challenges! A mysterious new creature has appeared in Los York! Could it be a divine message or evidence of an unknown civilization? A love story so sweet, it’ll make your heart melt! The whirlwind of feelings taking the world by storm is far from over! An endearing, joyful, and chaotic tale that’s richer and more exhilarating than ever! This romance featuring a former goddess is so sweet and spicy, it’ll make your teeth ache and set your soul ablaze! And in Merenice Levin’s route, her days as Cupid are far from over! A romantic and comedic story in the world of matchmaking is set to unfold!

Key Features

Sweeter and Spicier! – Return to Los York with the original cast of Cupid Parasite, plus an all new-character Merenice Levin. Rendezvous with seven of the sweetest and spiciest bachelors in up to three game modes and unlock over 80 CGs, including some that may be too hot to handle!

All Different Flavors to Choose From – Pick from three different modes that can satiate anyone with a sweet tooth. Select “After Drama” mode to follow-up with the original Parasite 6 and pick up from where you last left off. Go with “New Parasite” mode for a chance to experience Merenice Levin’s perspective of the events that take place after the common route of Cupid Parasite. You can also explore routes you unlocked in “Bonus Episode” mode for six bonus episodes with their own unlockable CGs!

In Sweetness and In Spiciness?! – You must choose the flavor of the next course. Will you go with the sweet? Or will you go with the spicy? When prompted with the choice during gameplay, select between sweet or spicy to impact the ending of your selected route. Manage to balance the flavors for a chance at something really appetizing.

Rich, Decadent Visuals and Savory Scenarios – The original scenario writer and illustrator of Cupid Parasite return! Ririka Yoshimura (scenario writer) and Yuuya (illustrator) join forces once again to bring fans a delectable addition to the Cupid Parasite universe.

Watch a teaser trailer below. View a set of screenshots at the gallery. Visit the official website here.

Teaser Trailer

youtube

#Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling #Cupid Parasite #Idea Factory #Idea Factory International #otome game #visual novel #Gematsu #Youtube

234 notes · View notes

ereardon · 11 months

Text

Snowed In || Saturday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.2K

Masterlist here; Part one aka Friday here

You had spent seven years trying to reinvent yourself after college. Almost exactly three thousand miles between you and Stanford, and yet the ghost of who you had been haunted you.

The funny best friend. The sidekick. The mousy girl in class. The overachiever. The one who wasn’t invited to parties.

You had moved to New York after graduation and taken a job with a small newspaper, working your way up. Along the way you had gotten a haircut, figured out how to apply makeup with a wet beauty blender, how to dress for your small frame. You had traveled at every opportunity, made friends with people across the city, dated a hedge fund analyst and a bee farmer and a NYU professor. You had done everything you had wanted to do and more.

But when you laid down to sleep at night, or first thing in the morning, all of that change escaped you. And your mind immediately flitted to the version of yourself that you had once been but no longer were.

The girl Jake Seresin had known and loathed.

***

The day was bright. Blinding. You groaned, rolling over, taking the covers with you, trying to shield your papery eyelids from the light streaming through the blinds.

It was no use. You groaned, eyes flying open.

Jake.

For a split second you had forgotten that not ten feet away, Jake Seresin was hypothetically asleep on your couch.

Slowly, you sat up, peering over the edge of the couch. But it was empty. The pillow and comforter that you had laid out the night before folded neatly and set in the corner. You frowned. And then the sound of the tap in the bathroom caught your attention. A moment later it stopped and Jake emerged from the bathroom into the hallway, wearing a pair of joggers and a fresh shirt, hair damp. He smiled. “Hey Finn.”

That was it. Like he had forgotten how the two of you had left it the night before.

“I made coffee. Hope that’s OK. But you don’t really have much else,” he said, sitting down on the ottoman.

“Ugh, yeah, I meant to go to the store, but I never did.”

Jake shrugged. “I think that’s our only option at this point.”

You stood up, the pant legs of your silky pajamas pooling onto the cold hardwood floor as you crossed the room and placed one hand on the window. It was frosty. Blinding white from all the snow swirling in every direction. It made the air practically opaque. “Not it,” you replied, turning around with one finger pressed to the tip of your nose.

Jake laughed. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go.”

You grinned. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be all bad. “You can go later if you want. I’m not a big breakfast person, anyway.”

“Later is good.” Jake sat on the edge of the couch. “Listen, Finn. About last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted and Jake’s eyes widened.

He laughed. A surprised chortle. “Jesus. Never thought I’d hear Ella Finnley apologize.”

“People change, Seresin.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softer. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

You looked him up and down. You had rarely thought of Jake Seresin in the almost ten years since the two of you graduated from Stanford. But when he did pop into your mind, it was almost always at the most random of times, triggered by a memory. The smell of a particular flavor of vodka that you remembered drinking at his fraternity house, or if someone on the street passed with a distinct Texas accent. The years had dulled your impression of him, coated him in a sepia film in your memory that automatically paired Jake Seresin with dickwad.

Maybe, just maybe, you had been wrong. Or perhaps he had done what you had tried to do.

Had he actually, fundamentally, changed for the better?

“I’m going to shower,” you said, hooking one finger over your shoulder.

“I’ll be here,” Jake said, looking around the studio apartment. The warm water helped wake you up, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the way Jake had looked when he said he had changed from your mind. There was something there that he had never embodied before. At least, not the Jake you had known.

You turned off the tap, wrapping up in a white towel and sitting down on the edge of the tub, grabbing your phone and dialing a phone number you hadn’t touched in ages.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Suze,” you said, smiling.

On the other end of the line, Suzannah whopped. “Ellie! Oh my God, it’s been forever! How are you?”

“I’m good,” you whispered, trying not to be too loud. “Listen, I have a question for you.”

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I, um, Jake Seresin called me.”

There was a pause. Then, “Why?”

You sighed. “He, um, he asked to stay with me. Guess he was stuck at the airport with the storm that’s coming in.”

Suzannah wasn’t one to stay quiet for long. She had an opinion about everything, from the color of your nails to the best way to load a dishwasher to why Santorini is only for tourists. So silence from Suzannah was telling.

“Suze?” you asked softly.

“I’m here,” she said after a moment. “What did you tell him?”

“He’s in my living room.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“The bathroom. Hiding.”

She laughed. “You fucking idiot.”

“Tell me why you guys broke up again.”

“Ellie,” she sighed. “You of all people know.”

You did. Jake had slept with not one but two of Suzannah’s sorority sisters while the two of them were on a break. But break in the Ross and Rachel definition of break. As in the two of them had parted ways for no more than three days before Jake had fucked the other girls.

“Why’d you call, Finn?” she asked. “You already made the decision to let him in, obviously. So what are you looking for me to answer?”

“Do you think people can change?” you asked.

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “By people do you mean Jake?”

“Maybe.”

Suzannah sighed. “You’re smart, Finn. Always have been. But you don’t trust people and that’s your fatal flaw. To answer your question, yes, I think Jake always had the ability to change. I don’t date losers, babe, you know that. Even back then.”

I laughed lightly. “God, I miss you Suze.”

“Call more,” she said. “And not just because you’re hiding in your bathroom from my ex-boyfriend.”

“I feel like I’m twenty two again,” you replied. “Afraid to come out of the bathroom because you and Jake were fucking on the couch.”

“Sorry about that.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “You need to go or else he’s going to think you have IBS or something.” Another pause. “Tell me something Finn, and don’t lie to me.”

You sucked in a breath. With Suzannah, you never knew where the conversation was going to go. “OK?”

“Is he still hot?”

You let out a snort. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“That’s what I thought. Damn men for just getting better with age while I look like a sickly Victorian child at the ripe age of twenty nine. Anyways, I love you, call me when you’re no longer a fugitive in your own home.”

“Love you too, Suze.” You ended the call, shivering in the thin towel. When you realized you had left a change of clothes in the main part of the apartment instead of bringing something to the bathroom, you groaned.

Whipping open the door, you scampered down the long wooden hallway, shivering in the cold, rounding the corner on your tiptoes. Something hard hit you as your eyes were turned downward toward the floor. A solid mass smashed against your front and before you realized, you were falling to the ground, a small shriek echoing through the walls of your apartment as you and Jake tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs, his fingers grasping for purchase on whatever he could.

Which just happened to be on your bare ass where your towel rode up.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as the two of you smacked against the floor, your heads thankfully bouncing lightly against the cream colored rug to your left.

Your eyes flew open as something heavy rolled over you, your knee pressing up into Jake’s crotch instinctively as his fingers touched your bare ass.

“Oh my God!” Jake groaned, rolling over you as quickly as he had rolled on top, curling into a ball, hands cradling his crotch.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you shrieked, kneeling next to him, gripping the towel around you with one hand, the other hovering over his pained body. “Did I get you?”

Jake moaned, nodding his head. “Yeah, Finn, you got me.”

You sat back on your heels. “Well you touched my ass so I think we’re even.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling onto his side. “Not even close, babe.”

“Don’t babe me,” you said, standing up, making sure to keep your legs closed under the short towel. “You’re fine.”

Jake grunted, pushing himself to sit as you rifled through the dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a tight henley bodysuit. You brushed past him on your way back to the bathroom to change and Jake’s hand reached out, fingers circling your ankle. You gasped, looking down at him. He smirked. “It’s a nice ass.”

“Oh fuck off, Seresin,” you muttered, tugging your ankle from his grip as he chuckled. “Your balls aren’t even sore are they?” you called down the hall.

“Oh, they are!”

“Dick,” you whispered to yourself, shutting the door.

***

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I turn the TV on?”

You scowled. “What happened to independent reading time, Seresin?”

After towelgate, you had emerged into the living room with a plan. To make time go faster, you and Jake would divide the day like elementary school. Breakfast coffee followed by gym class, per Jake’s suggestion, independent reading and a late lunch.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do for gym class when there’s a blizzard outside?” you asked.

Jake shrugged. “Yoga?”

The two of you had struggled through a yoga video that you screencast on your TV, and after Jake had obviously been staring at your ass in downward facing dog you smacked him on the arm.

But an hour into reading and Jake was already calling it quits.

He put his book, a worn copy of Wuthering Heights from your bookshelf, off to the side, kicking up his feet onto the coffee table. “Let’s play a game.”

“Game time isn’t for an hour,” you replied, never taking your eyes off of your book, a new thriller by Ruth Ware. “God, are you sure you have a job? How do you focus on any work?”

“I bounce around a lot,” he said.

“Bounce around jobs a lot?”

“Bounce around projects,” Jake clarified.

You looked up, eyebrows raised. “What are you, a drug dealer?”

“Finn.”

“What?” you asked, eyes flicking back to your book. “You never were great in school.”

“Hey,” Jake cried. “I wasn’t great at Sawyer’s fiction seminar. Doesn’t mean I flunked out of any other class.”

“You flunked out of Sawyer’s fiction?” You laughed. “God, that’s bad.”

“It’s been nine years,” Jake said. “Can’t you let little things go?”

“Nope,” you said, putting your book down. Outside, the snow had slowed so you could finally see through the opaque wall of flurries. “Fine, since you can’t sit still, why don’t you go to the bodega.”

Jake frowned. “What do you need there?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Jake looked around before turning back to face you, eyebrows raised. “A hammer?”

“What the fuck would I need a hammer for?”

“Why are you sending me to the hardware store during a snowstorm?”

You bent in half laughing. “Wait, are you telling me you think a bodega is a hardware store?”

“Well isn’t it?”

“No,” you said, wiping under one eye. “It’s a fucking corner store. Bread, soda, beer. Chopped cheese. Midnight cigarettes.”

“You don’t still smoke, do you?” he asked.

“No, not anymore.”

“Me neither.”

You shook your head, standing up and grabbing your purse, pulling out a card. “Here, take this.”

“No way.” Jake stood, pushing the gold Amex away from him. “I got this.”

“Fine,” you said, sliding the card back into your wallet. “I don’t know, get us stuff to last another two days. Some pasta, maybe. Fruit so we don’t get scurvy.”

“Scurvy in two days,” Jake muttered to himself, shrugging on a jacket, “that’s new information.”

“Vodka,” you said. “And limes. I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with another day of being with you.”

Jake turned toward the door, shaking his head. “Aren’t you a delight, Finn.”

You tried to read while Jake was gone but every little sound in the hallway would make you look up. Finally, after five or so times of that happening, you gave up, setting the book down and sitting on the windowsill overlooking Fifth Ave.

He was gone for a suspiciously long time. So long that at one point you almost pulled out your phone to call him, convinced he had gotten lost, when the doorbell rang. A minute later, you tugged open the door.

Jake was covered in melted snow, huffing and puffing. He had two bags in each hand, and a bouquet of flowers under one arm. You frowned. “Flowers?”

He stepped inside, tracking muddy water into the foyer of the apartment and you grimaced. “For you,” he said and your heart skipped a beat. Jake set down the bags, holding out the bouquet of white roses. “For letting me stay.”

“Jake,” you whispered.

He smiled. “Just take them, Finn,” he said softly. “For once in your life, let me do something for you.”

“Fine,” you replied, taking the flowers and pressing them to your nose. They smelled clean and soft and you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had bought you flowers. You headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “Shoes off, Seresin. Stop tracking mud everywhere.”

“I know,” Jake said and he was close, so close behind you that you could feel his breath on your exposed shoulder. “I’m getting something to wipe it up.”

He reached around your body, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser on the counter to your right, his chest brushing against your back before he pulled away. When he did, a rush of cold air hugged you tightly, reinforcing the fact that Jake was gone.

Once all of the groceries were unpacked, you and Jake were settled at the dining room table eating two bodega sandwiches.

“You’re like a kid who was left alone for the weekend, do you know that?”

Jake looped up from his bacon egg and cheese. “What makes you say that?”

“The groceries, Jake,” you replied. “Ice cream, cookie dough, Doritos, mac n cheese boxes? Seriously?”

“I got fruit like you asked,” he said, taking the last bite of his sandwich and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Besides, it’s a snowstorm. Don’t we get a free pass?”

“Free pass for what?”

Jake stood, clearing his plate and your empty one. He smirked. “A free pass to do whatever we want, Ella. Whatever you wouldn’t normally do. Nothing is off the table.”

“I can think of a few things that are.”

***

Jake was better behaved with a full stomach. The two of you wrapped up reading time, and even played a game of Monopoly that you had found buried in your closet. Before long, it started to get dark, the sun sliding below the buildings until the sky was just a dark blanket peppered by the continuous snow.

You flicked the news on. “More snow is expected to fall across parts of Manhattan and the wider Tristate tonight,” the newscaster said. “We could see up to another six inches overnight.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, turning it off as Jake returned with two glasses. He handed one to you. “What is this?”

“Vodka tonic,” he replied and you took a sip. “Since I know you’re trying to get me liquored up so I’ll have to sleep with you.”

You sputtered, vodka spraying out of your mouth as Jake cackled, settling down onto the couch next to you.

“Easy there,” he said, patting your knee, squeezing gently as you wiped at your mouth.

“I think of the two of us, you’re the one that’s easy to get into bed, Seresin,” you murmured. His hand was still resting on your thigh.

“Maybe so,” Jake said, his eyes never leaving yours. “The couch isn’t too comfortable, you were right.”

“You’re not sleeping on the bed with me.”

“What if I beg?”

“Is that your kink? You want to have to beg for sex?”

Jake leaned back, taking a sip of his drink, his hand still hot on your leg. “Sweetheart. I’ve never had to beg a day in my life.”

You crossed your legs, letting his hand slip off. “Never say never, Seresin.”

***

Somewhere between the third and fourth vodka soda was when things started to blur. Jake had brought the bottle out into the living room, along with a pack of tonic waters and a lime on a cutting board. At some point, you kicked off your slippers, tucking your feet up beneath you and Jake did the same, scooting closer on the couch, one arm stretched out over the tufted back.

You leaned forward, reaching for more vodka, sliding a little and Jake’s arm shot out, catching you around the middle, suspending you in midair so you didn’t fall.

Your faces were close together. He was basked in warm light from the candles on the mantle and the soft yellow lamp in the corner. He smelled good and cozy and for a second, you could almost forget that he was Jake Seresin. He was just a really attractive guy in your apartment looking at you like he never wanted to tear his eyes away.

“How on earth are you single, Finn?” Jake asked, his fingers tightening around my side. His green eyes were clear and wide.

You grabbed the vodka bottle, dumping some into my glass, and Jake finally released me. But his knee was pressed against my leg still, warm and inviting. “I don’t like dating,” you said. “Every guy is the same. He’s Midtown East and he has three cell phones or he lives in Fidi and he works twenty hours a day or God forbid he’s from Brooklyn and he wants me to take the L on the weekends. He’s an Upper West side dick whose mother will never approve of me. He’s an Upper East Side prick who would never look my way because I didn’t go to prep school. Or maybe he’s another Stanford alum, but even then I probably won't be good enough for him somehow.”

“How could you not be good enough?” Jake whispered.

“You overestimate me, Jake,” you replied. “And you overestimate the New York dating scene.”

“You’re smart,” he said. “Beautiful. Charming in a really dickish, sarcastic way.” You laughed, head tossed back and Jake’s fingers on the back of the couch tickled your neck. “The whole package, El. Always have been.”

“You didn’t like me in college, Seresin,” you replied. “What made you change your mind?”

“Who said I didn’t like you in college?”

“You did! The way you always gave me shit and how you always avoided me if we were waiting for Suzannah at the same time.”

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t hate you. I’ve never disliked you a day in my life, Ella.”

“Then what?” you asked. “Why were you always so weird?”

Jake paused. You watched his jaw tense. He set his cup down on a coaster on the table and stood up abruptly. “We need more liquor.”

You frowned. “What? No, we still have vodka left.”

“Then we need gin.”

“I have gin.”

“OK, tequila.”

“Jake, what are you doing?” But he was already down the hall, pulling on his jacket, sliding into his boots. You scrambled off the couch. “Jake, wait!” But he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stood in shock. What had just happened? After a few minutes, you tugged on a coat and a pair of boots, slipping your keys into your pocket. The hallway was dark and empty, no sign of Jake.

Five floors later, you emerged in the lobby. “Ella!” Gerry the doorman looked up from behind the desk. “How are you sweetheart?”

“Hi Gerry,” you said. “Did, um, did a guy rush out of here a few minutes ago?”

He nodded. “Tall, blond, looks like a total player?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“He took a left, toward the park,” Gerry said. “Be safe, sweetheart. He looks like he’d break your heart.”

“He’s just a friend.”

Gerry nodded knowingly. “Friend. OK, doll. You be safe out there, it’s cold as all hell.”

You smiled, bursting through the double glass doors, getting smacked in the face by a gust of air. It burrowed into your skin, freezing you whole and despite the heavy coat your teeth chattered as you took a hard left down Fifth. Washington Square Park was five blocks away, but no way Jake had already made it that far, right?

No one else was out. Who would be so stupid as to go outside at nearly midnight in the middle of the worst blizzard in two decades?

Apparently you. And Jake Seresin.

You scampered across the intersection, crossing tenth street, hurrying as the wind gusted from one side, threatening to toss you into the nonexistent traffic on the avenue going downtown toward the park.

Up ahead, you spotted the familiar Washington Arch that stood at the northern part of the park. Snowflakes dotted your eyelashes and you blinked, pressing them away into liquid, before opening your eyes wide, spotting a familiar head bobbing down the sidewalk. “Jake!” you called out, your voice getting picked up and carried away in the wind. “Jake!”

Beneath your body, your feet scrambled along, pushing you closer.

“Jake!”

The man in the distance stopped and turned. The lights illuminating the arch highlighted him from behind. His jacket was too thin and as you approached you could see it was damp from snow, his hair sticking to his drawn face.

“Seresin,” you said, stepping closer until the two of you were only a few feet apart. “What the fuck? You’re like a shit baby daddy, going out for diapers and never coming back.”

“Get it all out,” he said. “Whatever you think of me, Ella. It’s time to air the dirty laundry.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand what’s happening. One second we’re drunk and laughing and the next second you’re fucking running away and forcing me to chase you through a goddamn blizzard.”

“You didn’t have to chase me.”

“You left,” you said quietly. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Let me leave,” Jake said. “If you think I’m such a bad person, what do you care if I stay or not?”

“The real question is why did you hate me so much,” you whispered. “Back in the apartment. I asked why you hated me so much back then. And instead of answering, you made up some bullshit excuse about needing tequila. So answer, Jake. Or I’ll let you turn into an ice sculpture and I’ll sell you to 230 Fifth and their stupid fucking igloo bar as decoration.”

“I don’t hate you, Ella,” Jake said, stepping closer. Even drenched in snow he was warm. A furnace. “I never hated you.”

“So what was it then?” you demanded. “A Mr. Darcy thing? You ignored me and shut me out and gave me shit because you loved me?”

“Maybe.”

“What?” Stunned silence surrounded the two of you. If it was even possible, the snowflakes fell slower. As if they were suspended in the air. It was just you and Jake in the middle of Fifth Avenue in a snowglobe. You looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Did you ever think, Ella, that maybe I called you for a reason?” Jake asked quietly. “That maybe, just maybe, I spent eight years wondering about what had happened to the one girl who had seen me for who I really was and never let me get away with it? That maybe, just maybe, I took your feedback to heart and tried to change. And now I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“For this,” Jake said, closing the distance between the two of you and sliding one hand around your neck, tipping your head back, bending down to press his lips to yours.

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @buckysteveloki-me @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 @seresinslady @hookslove1592 @shotclock24seconds @fanficfandomlove @ryebecca @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @t8r-tots

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake seresin au #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #hangman series #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

315 notes · View notes

blkdaddie · 2 months

Text

Buns in the Oven

The kitchen was a symphony of sizzling sounds and vibrant colors, each station brimming with an array of exotic ingredients and gleaming utensils. The contestants, an eclectic mix of expectant men from all walks of life, stood ready, their hands poised to create culinary magic. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and camaraderie, their shared journey creating an unspoken bond.

"Welcome to another thrilling episode of 'Buns in the Oven!' I'm your host, Jeremy, and today, our talented dads-to-be will be whipping up some extraordinary dishes to satisfy those unique pregnancy cravings!" Jeremy's voice echoed through the studio, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Let’s get cooking, gentlemen!" Jeremy announced, signaling the start of the competition.

At Station One, Alex, a software engineer from Seattle, was busy chopping a selection of exotic fruits. "I’m going for a spicy mango-avocado tart with a hint of chili and lime. It’s got that sweet and savory kick," he explained, exchanging a confident smile with Carlos, the contestant at the next station.

Carlos, a dance instructor from Miami, grinned back. "Sounds amazing, Alex. I’m working on a sweet plantain and black bean empanada with a guava glaze. A little taste of home for me."

Station Three housed Ravi, a chef from New York City, meticulously arranging ingredients for his dish. "I’m making a curry-infused chocolate mousse with candied ginger. It’s a fusion of my Indian heritage and classic French technique," he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

The judges, seated at a long table, watched intently. "These combinations are wild! I can’t wait to taste them," said Chef Maria, a renowned culinary expert.

"Remember, guys, presentation is key. We eat with our eyes first," added Chef Luis, a pastry chef known for his avant-garde creations.

As the clock ticked down, the kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. The smell of freshly baked goods and exotic spices filled the air. The men worked with a blend of precision and passion, their bellies round and their smiles wide.

"Five minutes left!" Jeremy called out, pacing the kitchen and peeking over shoulders.

At Station Four, Malik, a jazz musician from New Orleans, was putting the finishing touches on his dish. "I’ve got a beignet with a spicy crawfish filling and a sweet bourbon glaze. It’s got a little bit of everything," he said, his voice smooth and melodic.

The camaraderie was palpable. "Malik, that smells divine," Ravi called out, plating his mousse with a flourish.

"Time's up! Step away from your stations, gentlemen," Jeremy announced. The contestants exchanged high-fives and knowing winks, the energy in the room electric.

The judges made their rounds, sampling each dish with thoughtful expressions. "Alex, your tart has a wonderful balance of flavors. The heat from the chili is perfect," Chef Maria praised.

"Carlos, your empanada is incredible. The guava glaze is a fantastic touch," Chef Luis commented, nodding appreciatively.

"Ravi, your mousse is sublime. The curry and chocolate work beautifully together," said Chef Maria, clearly impressed.

"And Malik, your beignet is a revelation. The spice and sweetness are in perfect harmony," Chef Luis added.

Jeremy took the stage once more, microphone in hand. "And the winner of today’s 'Buns in the Oven' is… Malik with his spicy crawfish beignet! Congratulations, Malik!" The room erupted in cheers and applause.

"Thanks, everyone. This was such an amazing experience," Malik said, his voice full of emotion as he accepted his prize—a basket filled with goodies for both him and his soon-to-arrive baby.

As the credits rolled, Jeremy’s voiceover captured the essence of the show. "Join us next week for more mouthwatering creations and heartwarming stories on 'Buns in the Oven.' Where every dish is a labor of love."

#mpreg story #pregnant man #mpreg #mpreg kink #mpreg belly

59 notes · View notes

thecurlyginger · 3 months

Note

I like the way you talk about/describe food. What kind of modern day cocktails do you think Gale would enjoy?

Now you're speakin' my language!

We know that Gale likes wine and Waterdhavian whiskey, so a low-hanging fruit would be a New York Sour which is akin to a whiskey sour (whiskey, citrus, sugar) with a wine float.

I'm also going to take his Yawning Portal story and the offering of "Shadowdark Ale for everyone" to infer Gale likes beer, and at the Quaffing Quaggoth tavern in Waterdeep's Dock Ward where many believe his tower to be, they serve a stout with a shot of "house secret" liquor. All of which to say, while not necessarily a cocktail, I think Gale would LOVE an Imperial Stout, aged in whiskey barrels. They often carry notes of vanilla, cacao, and/or coffee, and he would love to discover each flavor on his palate.

Okay, okay, back to the cocktails. Now, I'm going to sidestep whiskey for a moment and delve into rum - the base of many interesting cocktails. Dark, aged rums have a molasses taste, pair well with citrus, and add a very complex flavor to cocktails. I think a Dark and Stormy, combining dark rum, lime, and a spicy ginger beer (never ginger ale according to Gale), would be a standard, especially if he's (I mean, we're saying modern) at a bar or staying in and playing some moody music.

But maybe it's a classy kinda drink day. You know - Sunday brunch with Morena, Tara, and Tav. Crepes on the griddle, hot coffee, lively discussions. Or even a romantic summer evening where Gale doesn't want to just woo Tav, he wants to wow them. No simple well cocktail will do, nor will any old bottle from his reserve. He's breaking out the gin, juicing some lemons, shaking with simple syrup, and then he's topping it all with some champagne for the most crisp and refreshing French 75. And you can bet he's garnishing with that lemon twist

Phew, is anyone else thirsty?

#bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 headcanons #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #the chokehold this wizard has on me #can someone draw him with a cocktail shaker? PLEASE

69 notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 year

Text

Break Me Down - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: A huge THANK YOU to everyone who's following and commenting/giving me feedback on this story so far! It's so encouraging for me and I really do appreciate you all. 💖

Word Count: 2,500 Warnings: Angst, violence.

Part 3: Somewhere Down Below

“Hey, Tony,” you nicknamed your kidnapper. You knew he was the one who attacked you, as you now saw the reason for one of his boots being larger than the other.

He really did have a broken foot from when you all but stabbed it with your heel a couple of weeks ago.

“How’s the foot?” you teased.

“Shut up,” he hissed.

Aw, where’s that charming smile? you thought in grim amusement.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy snapped at him. “Focus. Did I order this?”

“Sir…” Tony said, shifting on his feet.

“What were my words?” Soldier Boy asked, enunciating each and every syllable. Tony looked nervous, though of course he tried not to show it. Soldier Boy was dressed like a wealthy dad on vacation—in a buttoned-down blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, and beige slacks.

But there was no mistaking the strength in his build, or the threat in his crossed arms and stern expression.

“To…make sure you weren’t followed,” Tony said. “And to take care of Butcher’s team.”

“Did you do that?”

“My guys found their hotel, yes…but Butcher managed to slip away.”

You smiled at that. Soldier Boy noticed, and he was not pleased.

“Just him?” he asked.

“With his team,” Tony admitted. “Except for this one. I thought we could question her.”

Soldier Boy looked at you then. “Okay. Let’s start with that.”

He leaned forward into your space, resting an elbow on his knee. You regarded him with a tilt of your head, trying to hide your wariness.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked. You wanted to say that, first of all, you weren’t his sweetheart. But you decided that question was simple enough. You gave him your first name.

Soldier Boy considered it, and he nodded.

“Do you know where your friends went?”

“Well, considering I was taken from my room with a musty bag over my head—which smelled like a Frenchman’s asshole, by the way—I’d have to say no,” you replied.

And you’d spent the past four months helping M.M. clean up after Frenchie and Butcher, so you knew exactly what flavor of grunge that was.

Soldier Boy’s lips twitched upwards.

“See, that’s what I thought,” he said. He glanced back at Tony with a certain look. One that actually made you nervous for your kidnapper. He was a criminal, and a handsy dick, but you didn’t want to see anyone die in front of you.

Soldier Boy stood, and Tony tensed up.

“They’re working with the CIA. They’ll have safe houses lined up,” said another groupie in the Soldier Boy club. You recognized him as well. This was the crew-cut Hispanic man who’d escorted you up to Soldier Boy’s room at the gentleman’s club.

Soldier Boy looked over at him and considered this with a nod. He stepped back while Tony approached you. You took a breath to try and steady yourself.

It begins. If you were going to take a hit, you preferred it be from Tony’s pansy ass.

Don’t let him in. Don’t let him see that you’re afraid.

“How about it, doll?” Soldier Boy asked. “Who’s your controller at the CIA?”

“Grace Mallory,” you revealed, with only a small twinge of guilt. Grace could take care of herself, and you were a P.I., not a fucking spy. “I believe you’ve met before.”

It took a moment for Soldier Boy to remember the name, but you watched the realization alight in his eyes.

“Ah, the lesbo. Damn, she must be an old fucking bag by now,” Soldier Boy mused with a grin. “She give you a list of safe houses here?”

“No. We’d check in after crossing a location off our list, and she’d send us the itinerary,” you said. And that was the truth. He looked into your eyes, and eventually he nodded. He seemed to believe you.

“Okay, let’s try this. If you had to guess, where would Butcher and his merry band of assholes go to regroup?” he asked.

“I honestly don’t know … but what does it matter? They don’t know where you are,” you replied. “Most of them are just human, like me.”

You watched Soldier Boy’s reaction carefully. He didn’t seem to outwardly react, other than a fractional tightening of his jaw.

“After what you did in New York, blowing up that building. Taking out your whole damn team. Killing Homelander. I thought you’d be swatting us like flies,” you said with a breathy laugh.

Because really, you didn’t expect to live much longer than the next few minutes. Maybe talking could extend your life just a bit longer…

Tears welled up in your eyes when you thought of your family though. Your mom. Your sister, Luisa. They’d probably never know exactly what happened to you. But you counted that as a small blessing.

“But then again, Butcher and his guys almost put you back under,” you added.

Soldier Boy had been almost amused by your audacity, but now his expression tightened. His arms crossed as he rose a brow.

“And you ran away. You’re still running away,” you said. “Why? Are we just not worth your time? Or are you actually worried we might just outsmart you?”

The hit actually took you by surprise, because it didn’t come from Soldier Boy. It was Tony who backhanded you roughly. He wore a gaudy ring that bit into your cheek, opening a bloody nick in your skin. The blow itself was hard enough to make stars burst behind your eyes.

Stronger than he looks, you could admit, just to yourself.

“You’re a fucking mouthy one, aren’t you?” Soldier Boy mused.

You licked your dry, lipstick-smudged lips and caught your breath. Your wrists were burning from the zip tie holding them behind the chair, making your shoulders ache as well. Your cheek was throbbing.

But you looked up, ignoring Tony, and stared directly into the green in Soldier Boy’s eyes. It was a challenge that he met.

“You really believe you fuckers can win, don’t you?” he asked. Your lips quirked, even as a tear rolled its way down your bloody cheek.

Right now, you weren’t sure of anything. But you believed in your friends—in Annie and Hughie, M.M., Frenchie, Kimiko, and yes, even Butcher. They’d almost done it before. They could get it right the next time, even if it was without you.

“Yeah, I really fucking do,” you replied. Then you aimed a wry glance at Tony. “By the look of your little backup dancers here, I’d say it’s a matter of time before they put you back in the box.”

Tony’s ring bit into your cheek again, this time in a closed fist. You tumbled over with a pained cry, still tied to your chair, but one of the old wooden legs broke. It was an antique, after all.

When your head smacked against the tile floor, the lights above you got hazy for a moment. You tried to blink them back into focus as you stared up at the ceiling.

The truth was, you were exhausted. If you were going to die…you’d really just like to get it over with.

So as you struggled for breath, your gaze wandered and met Soldier Boy’s again.

You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking, but you were sure that your end was coming when his arms uncrossed, his posture tightening. Unlike his friends, he didn’t have any guns on him at the moment. You knew very well that he didn’t need weapons.

But he held a hand against Tony, and he called to the Crew-Cut guy.

“Frank, get her a room,” he said. “Watch her though. She’s a wily one.”

You blinked in confusion as Frank nodded. He and Tony pulled you up from the ground and untied you from the chair’s remains, but soon their meaty man hands wrapped around your arms.

Soldier Boy started to walk away from you. You knew you should just leave it be, but you couldn’t help it.

“I’m staying?” you asked. Soldier Boy paused. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re staying.” He nodded, with a smirk you decided you didn’t like very much. “For now.”

You were led to a room with a queen-sized bed and the basics in furnishings: a desk, a TV, a closet, one nightstand, and a small two-seat table. Tony pushed you in, and the door slammed shut behind you.

Rude. But you supposed it could be worse. You looked yourself over in the mirror, and you were pretty ragged. Bruised and bleeding, your hair a virtual rat’s nest, your eye makeup dark and running, your lipstick smudged, your dress in tatters, with the split in the skirt still revealing your entire left thigh and dirty bare feet.

Heaving a deep sigh, you returned to the door and weren’t surprised to find it locked. But you knew someone must be there on the other side to make sure you didn’t try anything.

“Hey, geniuses,” you called. “Got any sweatpants out there? A hairbrush? A toothbrush? Some bread or something? If you’re gonna have a fucking hostage, might as well make sure I stay alive.”

For a while, there was silence. But eventually the door opened, revealing Frank. He was tall and stoic, and like you remembered, with cropped dark hair and a thick beard and mustache. He handed you a plate with two slices of dry bread, and nothing else. You raised a brow at him.

All he said was, “Check the dresser.”

Then the door shut in your face again. You looked down at the sorry plate.

Could’ve at least slapped some butter on it. Goddamn.

You ate it anyway though; now that you weren’t about to die, you were starving. But you did as Frank instructed and indeed checked the dresser. There were some men’s clothes in one of the drawers, but not much. This had to be a guest room of some kind.

You opened the rest of the drawers and managed to find women’s lingerie, of all things.

Definitely a party mansion, you decided. The vacation home of one of Soldier Boy’s old connections, you guessed.

One culprit could be the Legend. He was Vought’s former Senior Vice President of Hero Management, before Madelyn Stillwell. Butcher had mentioned that he’d stowed Soldier Boy in one of the Legend’s penthouses before.

In the drawers you finally managed to find some women’s jeans, a few tops, panties, and quite a few skanky dresses. They looked old though, like they hadn’t been washed in years. And likely from the 80s, if the gaudy frills and funky patterns were any indication.

Who knew how long ago these drawers had been stocked and left untouched. And God knew if they were even your size, but you supposed you’d find out.

In the bathroom, you also discovered a first aid kit and a spare towel, along with soap, shampoo, conditioner, and host of other toiletries. This is like a damn hotel, actually.

Except for the whole being a prisoner thing. Again, you supposed it was better than the alternative.

After you’d showered and dressed in a shirt and the only pair of shorts you found (the clothes were too tight, probably meant for some supermodel, but you’d manage), patched yourself up the best you could, and tamed your wild hair, you at least felt like a human again.

You didn’t know what time it was, as your room didn’t have a window. But you did have a bed, and it was calling you. You slipped under the covers and let out a long breath.

So many scenes from earlier today played and replayed through your mind. All the “what ifs.” If you’d been more successful with Soldier Boy back at the club.

If you’d stayed more alert in your hotel room. If you’d managed to call out to Annie or M.M. or Butcher or any one of your team, could they have stopped you from being kidnapped? All of them had been attacked as well.

But clearly, if you were the only one captured, then you were the least of all of them.

That thought made you shudder, your eyes burning with tears. You had also given up today. When you’d continued mouthing off to Soldier Boy, you’d succumbed to your seemingly inevitable fate, already given up on your life.

You felt guilty about that when you thought about your sister. If there was one thing the two of you had learned from your fucked childhoods, it was that giving up wasn’t an option.

You had spent most of your life fighting. Fighting so she could have a good future.

“I wish you’d start protecting yourself,” she’d told you. One of the last things she’d ever told you.

So…you decided that from this moment onward, you were going to fight.

For your life, and for your freedom, no matter what Soldier Boy wanted with you.

“He’s in the wind,” said Butcher. “Might be time to regroup.”

He leaned on a chair, like it was getting hard for him to stand, and coughed into his arm. Hughie watched him in both curiosity and concern. Was he getting sick or something?

“We’re not just leaving her out there,” Annie snapped. “We’re finding her now.”

Hughie knew that look on his girlfriend’s face. No matter what Butcher said, you were a priority. You had become her friend, and she was not leaving you with a sick fuck like Soldier Boy.

“I hate to tell you this,” Butcher said dryly, “but it ain’t likely that she’s still breathing.”

That fell between the entire team with a heavy silence.

Until Hughie spoke, calm but determined.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We don’t just leave our friends without trying.”

And by now, he could call you a friend. Annie certainly agreed.

After sharing a look with Kimiko, who smiled and nodded, and then M.M., Frenchie grinned. “I agree with Petit Hughie.”

He slapped the younger man on the back, though Hughie shot him a wan look.

“Can you stop calling me that?”

Butcher looked to M.M., who crossed his arms and nodded back.

“Can’t leave a man behind. Besides, if we find her, we probably find Soldier Boy.”

After a moment, Butcher shrugged.

“All right. Let’s hunt down the old fuck. Again.”

AN: "Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely place, such a lovely face." 😅

Next time, she tests her limitations:

It was Soldier Boy, of course. He was looking down at you, not sure if he should be stern or amused.

“What a naughty little girl,” he drawled. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t mind your fucking manners.”

Keep Reading: PART 4

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @waters-2567 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow @buckybarnes-1917 @secretdreamlandmentality @asgardprincess97

556 notes · View notes