#like instead of naming my story laundry

[overcastjhs]

i love writing stories on ao3 because the titles can never be normal. like it can't just be a one word title, it has to be a song or a sentence or a metaphor that was said once in a piece of media 20 years ago

[apprenticestanheight]

mentally I am just a silly little frog on a lillypad who can only make teeny tiny little mistakes (we were severely shortstaffed yesterday and I ditched a game of Yahtzee bc I haven't played it in a decade and had zero clue about how to fuckin play. The activity coordinator who organized it couldn't explain for shit, and I left with the excuse being that I would find someone else and I needed my water bottle while I was panicking internally) but physically I am a grown 19 year old who's scared to go into work friday bc I don't want my least favorite coworker to be mad at me, bc it means she may think she has the authority to yell at me and I will cry in front of her if she fucking does.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Since I already have established myself as a little pickle freak with no shame I have another extremely embarrassing story that will probably make you laugh.

When I started dating Brendan he was still living at home, but after we'd been dating a while he and his best friend Charlie decided to move in together. Another friend of theirs was looking for roommates and they decided to go for it. It was the lower level of a house.

Here's where I need to set the stage a little. Looking back on the time I spent in that space, I don't actually even know if it could have been nice under other circumstances. I feel almost pity for that house, full of young disgusting boys. Bare and wretched, it had minimal threadbare furniture, no decorations, and the guy who lived there already was hands down the most disgusting person I've ever met.

Not his character, but his habits. This boy's name was Josh. I genuinely don't know if their moving in with Josh was a handshake deal or if they saw the place beforehand. No sane person would ever have chosen to live there otherwise, I feel certain.

There was a kitchen. Sorta. But like. Was there a kitchen? Every counter, the whole sink, everything was just covered in dirty dishes. Brendan and Charlie said, "Josh, you need to do the dishes, we can't even wash anything cause it's so full of dirty dishes."

Josh's response to being asked to clean was to load all the dirty dishes onto a blanket. And then he dragged that blanket down the hall into the laundry room.

Crusted on residue, molding slimes, and horrible odors arose as he moved the blanket. After two months they said, "Josh, you can't just leave your dirty dishes on a blanket in the laundry room."

Josh's response was to drag the blanket of misery and miasmas into his room instead.

Josh didn't shower very much and he was a big guy. At one point I walked past his door when it opened. His girlfriend was crossing to the bathroom and I almost dry heaved directly in front of her. The smell of rotting foot, dried on sweat, and sex musk swirled together into the most eye watering assault my nose had ever faced.

So that's where our story takes place. A home of no hand towels, no soap by the bathroom sink, a blanket covered in months of early-twenties depression dishes.

I was meeting some of these people for the first time on the night of our story. Josh had a crew of two others guys who just hung around constantly. So it's me and five dudes hanging out, chatting, ignoring the various smell scapes to live in the moment. Josh left briefly to go pee.

Then I felt a stabbing in my guts. I shot a panicked look to Brendan and casually said I had to pee too. At that time in my life I was experiencing some of the most god awful IBS I've ever experienced. I knew I was going to make a crime scene in there. To my dismay there was no fan to turn on. But Brendan, like the champion partner he was, started telling a story at extremely high volume to cover the sound of my anus exploding under the force of my anxiety poops.

When I flushed and turned to the sink, I was dismayed. There was no soap. I looked around the bare bathroom and didn't see anything useful. No one had ever wanted to wash their hands here before. I then looked over the tub and spotted a tiny window that I wasn't tall enough to open. I wanted to let out the truly rank and terrible smell I had filled the bathroom with, but I had to give that up as impossible.

I slipped out and quietly said, "Hey, is there dish soap or something to wash my hands?"

"Oh," said one of Josh's friends, "There's a bar of soap by the window, let me grab it for you." This was not unreasonable, because again, I couldn't reach the window but I was doused in fear at the ridicule I was about to face.

He went to the door of the bathroom and literally staggered back from the unholy smell I'd left there. He had his arms up as if to protect his face from the malevolent beast my bowels had left behind. When he turned to us there was tears standing in his eyes.

In this house of awful smells and terrible hygiene, I was the stinkiest monster of all, bringing this boy to tears. I broke out in a sweat, ready to cry myself at the shame that was about to be cast upon me.

But instead. He said, "JOSH!"

"I can't believe you dude! Oh my god! That is the nastiest shit I've ever smelled!!" He waved the door frantically to dilute the awful power of my shit and then plowed through to open the window and air out the bathroom, passing me the soap. "I can't BELIEVE you had to go in there after him, oh my god, use the kitchen sink to wash your hands! It's gnarly!"

Everyone turned to rag on Josh for the newest addition to the gallery of smells in the house and he didn't look at me once. He laughed and pulled my shame onto his shoulders with grace, taking the bullet for me like a true hero. Only Brendan and I knew I was the stinky villain.

Josh never brought it up after, but I remain grateful to this day.

[venus-haze]

Playing Pretend (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Homelander’s secret identity is an ill-fated experiment in normalcy for a man who had grown up with anything but. He manages to keep his story straight until he runs into you in the hallway of your building one night, assuming the blood on his face and clothes are his and not the low-level criminals he’d just taken care of. While you’re playing nurse, Homelander’s playing John, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the facade around you.

Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. So Casual!Lander got me thinking about secret identity!Homelander again. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Some emotional manipulation, but this is on the fluffier side of things I've written.

Homelander hadn’t expected the blood on his civilian clothes to be much of a problem. It was late, he reported the incident to Vought and would be up a few points when the story hit the news in the morning. Typically, he returned to the Tower when something like this happened, but instead, he was drawn to the apartment he’d been set up with as part of his undercover identity.

A secret identity was exciting at first, a brand new challenge for him. Except he didn’t entirely get it. Wasn’t the point of everything he’d been through so that he could be Homelander? The best of the best, America’s savior? Not some guy named John living in a crappy apartment downtown. But Edgar wanted it, and so it was done.

The apartment itself didn’t feel like home. The pictures on the wall, knick-knacks on the bookshelves, they weren’t his. But the man he was pretending to be had a dizzying backstory that he found difficult to keep track of at first, and then irrationally jealous of once he got the hang of spitting out anecdotes about family barbecues and youth basketball leagues. Stuff everyone else got except for him, apparently, because they were always met with mind-numbingly boring stories of other people’s mirrored experiences that he had to “Oh?” and “Wow!” through like he actually cared.

“John!” You called out from down the hall as he approached, laundry basket in your arms.

He smiled. A real one. At least in all of this, he met you.

“Hey neighbor!” he greeted cheerfully, as if it were bright and early and not nearly midnight.

“What are you—” Your face twisted as he approached. Your heart thumped almost deafeningly. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“What?”

“John, you’re bleeding. Let me take you to the emergency room.”

“That’s not necessary. I–I don’t like doctors,” he said, the statement not feeling as much like a lie as he thought. “Most of it isn’t even mine.”

“I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. At least let me clean you up a little?”

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed.

You practically kicked open the door to your place, throwing your laundry basket aside and making a beeline for the bathroom like his life depended on it. If he were anyone else, it probably would have. He caught his warped reflection in your stainless steel refrigerator and cringed a bit. It did look pretty bad.

He inexplicably tensed upon seeing you return with the first aid kit, your brows knit together in worry. 

“Sit, please,” you urged as you laid out the contents of the kit on your kitchen table. “Oh John, what happened?”

“You know me, I always gotta get the story,” he said, his cover as a crime reporter not having failed him yet.

Your eyes watered as you looked at him. “One of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“What I’m doing helps people. It saves lives. That’s worth it to me.”

You picked up a cotton ball soaked in peroxide. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

He hesitated. That kind of thing had never been up to him. It either hurt or it didn’t, and if it didn’t hurt, they’d find out how to make it so it did. 

“Okay,” he said, tense as your hand approached his face.

Even thinking about the doctors he grew up with made an ugly pit settle heavy in his stomach. But you weren’t a doctor. You were you, and it was cute how you played nurse. Tended to his wounds like they were real, like the blood was his. Did you notice how quickly they disappeared beneath your cotton-padded touch, leaving no trace of cut or bruise behind?

“It looks a lot worse than it is, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“That’s good.”

He had plenty of practice sitting patiently while being poked and prodded, but never with the unnecessary care you used. 

He wanted to tell you. But then it’d defeat the purpose of a secret identity. Besides, just outright telling you wouldn’t be the grand, romantic gesture he pictured. 

Late at night. You. Alone in the city for god knows what reason even though you know better. He’s told you enough that you should know better. It wouldn’t matter. Because he’d be there. The Homelander swooping in to save you from some thug on the street. It’d be then that you’d see him for who he really was, who he was made to be instead of the pitiful facade you were presently tending to. So taken by the act, by him, your hero, you’d melt in his arms and let him take you away from the hovel of an apartment building you two shared and into bliss.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed, dabbing just above his eyebrow with a cotton ball. “I’m almost done.”

Sorry? Oh. You thought you hurt him. “I told you, I can take it.”

“I still feel bad,” you said. “Did you go to the police?”

“No, you know I usually don’t bother with that. Interferes with my own investigations,” he said.

You pursed your lips. You didn’t quite believe him, or were at least frustrated with his lack of personal safety. Worrying you wasn’t something he wanted to be in the habit of, but you poured out attention and care for him in such a way he could feel himself itching for more. It’d been like that since he first met you, the only kind and welcoming person in the damn building. Perhaps that was why he kept up with his secret identity for so much longer than he wanted to, his attachment to you, to this fake life he led with you in it.

But he could just as easily make a new one, a better one for the both of you once you knew the truth. 

“You made out alright, John,” you said, glancing over his face. “Really well, actually. It doesn’t even look like anything happened.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” he joked, hoping to dissipate some of your suspicion.

He heard you swallow roughly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

You reached out, caressing his cheek. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can’t help it.”

Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments, and you began to pull your hand away from his face until he caught your wrist and spoke your name softly.

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” you asked.

He hesitated a moment. I’m The Homelander. Instead, he pulled you closer, his gaze falling to your lips before kissing you.

You kissed him back softly, with an otherwise foreign tenderness that made him especially conscious of how he held you. His physical control was better, almost perfect. No more accidental bone breaking or spine snapping. He wouldn’t be The Homelander if he couldn’t control himself. 

But it was hard, with how deeply he felt for you, how much his emotions threatened to overtake years of practice and conditioning to manage his sheer strength. The Homelander didn’t have any weaknesses—save for seeing through zinc—but he was certain none of the scientists who poked and prodded him for years on end would have ever bet on you.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 16 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob wasn't expecting to find Anna touching herself and whining his name when he got home early, but when he did, he made sure to give her exactly what she wanted. He was ready to tell her he was in love, but that sentiment was going to have to take a backseat to the plan that she was formulating in her mind. Anna was going to fight for what she wanted one last time.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, unprotected sex, smut, masturbation, 18+

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Being in Bob's house was getting to be progressively more of an issue for Anna. She felt comfortable and protected here. There were books and cozy rooms and delicious food. And Bob. Everything smelled like him and reminded her of him, and even the way he lined things up on his bathroom counter made her smile.

It was hard to keep her hands off of him, and she was starting to see that the feeling was mutual. She was feeling more confident around him. Everything was unrushed and easier this time. They'd already had sex. They were sharing a bed. But all the little kisses here and there were starting to build up into something more, and she wanted all of him.

When Bob left to play Dungeons & Dragons on Saturday night, she intended to do some chores and finish grading quizzes. But when she took the rest of her clean laundry upstairs to organize it, she was enveloped in his scent as she stood in his bedroom. She moaned softly and squeezed her thighs together, always surprised by how something so simple could turn her on when it came to him. She was still holding her only nice underwear set when she checked the time and realized she could probably get herself off before he got home. And once she got started, there was no stopping her.

The lace fabric felt amazing on her skin, and she consciously replaced the memory of buying this little getup to celebrate Kevin's thirtieth birthday with this new one. She crawled across Bob's bed, buried her nose in his pillow and moaned as she thought of him. A few nights ago, she felt his erection pressed to her thigh, and now she was thinking about how he would feel and taste on her tongue.

"Oh, god," she groaned softly, easing herself down onto her stomach, inhaling deeply while she rubbed her lace covered pussy against his plush bedding. She could so easily picture Bob above and behind her, pulling her underwear to the side and fucking her down into the bed while he braced himself with his strong forearms on either side of her.

Soap and tea and something sweet. His pillow smelled intoxicating. Just like his skin. She was so warm, she could feel a sheen of sweat along her back as she wiggled her hips slowly back and forth and ground down for more pressure. She rolled onto her back, easing her right hand down her neck to her breasts, teasing herself while she thought about how good Bob made her feel. Her hand continued down her body until it was tucked in the front of her panties, and she gasped at how wet she was.

Anna guided her index and middle fingers down into her slick, coating them before swirling them around her clit. She gasped softly, imagining Bob's lips plucking her instead. His cheeks felt a little rough with stubble last time when he had his mouth on her, and her panties almost offered her a similar sensation as the lace scraped along her inner thighs. 

Her imagination ran wild, like she was reading one of Bob's more graphic poems. Red hair and freckles. She had what he liked best. She braced her feet on his bed as she thought about his firm tongue drawing perfect circles on her pussy, and she emulated the motion with her fingers. 

"Oh," she moaned, working herself up, wishing she could feel his big hands on her thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut as she started to flutter deep inside. "Fuck," she grunted. "Fuck me, Bob," she begged, remembering how his blue eyes focused on hers even as he pleasured her with his mouth. "Oh, god. I want you!"

Her back arched slightly off the bed as her orgasm washed over her, and she shoved her fingers as deep inside herself as she could. She swore she smelled him everywhere, and it felt amazing, but not quite as good as the real thing.

"Anna."

Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped as she saw him standing there in the soft, warm lamplight with his hand inside his unzipped pants. She pulled her fingers free of her soaked pussy as she watched Bob's wild eyes.

"Oh my god!" she practically shrieked, face flushing pink. "Bob! You're back early!"

He nodded, and she couldn't look away once she realized he was stroking himself at the foot of the bed. "I wanted to come back home as soon as I left," he panted. "I wanted to be with you. And now I want to fuck you."

"Oh," she sighed, getting up so she was kneeling in the middle of his bed, licking her lips. She was turned on all over again, nipples hard as she crawled toward him. His pretty cock hung out of his jeans, and she looked up at his face as she licked the bead of his precum. She swallowed him down and whispered, "That's exactly what I want you to do. As soon as I'm done here."

Bob stared down at her in a daze as she kitten licked the head of his cock, and then his hands were in her hair. "Anna," he whispered, and she could feel goosebumps breaking out on the back of her neck. She pulled him deeper into her mouth, and even his grunting sounded beautiful. His fingertips dug into her scalp as he responded to her mouth, and Anna took him deeper still. "Oh, god," he whined as her lip brushed his rough hairs, and she gagged. "Anna."

She pulled him free with a soft pop and looked up at him as she said, "I'm happy you came home early."

He scooped her up, and she squealed as he hauled her back up to the top of the bed. Once again, he was a little bit rougher than she anticipated, but he was also so sweet as she found herself propped up on his pillow with Bob on top of her. His hard cock was resting on her thigh, still damp from her mouth, and he was bracing himself with his biceps bulging. She reached up to cup his cheeks and kiss him softly as her thumbs ran along his stubble.

"You're wearing them," he muttered between soft kisses as he started rutting against her.

"Huh?" she sighed, fingers creeping back into his soft hair.

"The black lace. The bra and panties," he grunted as Anna spread her legs wider so she could feel him against her core. "I looked at them a million times in the laundry room. You look beautiful."

Before she could respond, his mouth collided with hers, and she reached down to get his shirt off. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. When she yanked it over his head, his glasses were crooked on his face so she straightened them out for him as she whispered, "I can't stop thinking about you. I think about you all day."

Then he was up off the bed, and she shivered without his warmth as she watched him kick off his shoes, sending them in opposite directions across the room before tearing off his jeans, boxer briefs and socks. He palmed his big, heavy cock, eyes wide as he knelt on the bed once more, and then her legs were thrown over his shoulders as he licked her through her underwear. 

All she could feel were stubble and lace on her sensitive skin as he soaked the fabric with his saliva before gently easing it down her legs. "All these freckles," he muttered to himself, and then his lips were on her bare pussy, and she had to grab fistfuls of the bedding. She was so wet from their combined efforts and her attraction to him, and her back arched off the bed when his lips wrapped around her clit. His hands slid up her sides to her breasts, and he yanked the bra cups down as he sucked on her. 

"Fuck," she whined, his big hands all over her breasts as he ate her out like they had been doing this for years. As if he knew exactly what she liked best. Soon Anna found herself riding his face, thighs tightening against his head. Maybe this is what he always did; treating women to his mouth before fucking them could have been his regular routine, but she was losing her mind over it for the second time now. And she wanted him to get rougher again.

"Fuck me," she begged, and his lips released her. He licked a long stripe up from her hole that made her shake in his grasp.

"Yeah?" he asked, making sure he had permission. His cheeks were flushed as he looked up her body at her as she nodded enthusiastically. "Last time you let me... cum inside you."

"Oh my god, yes," she moaned at the memory as his big hands squeezed her breasts. Then he was on top of her kissing and licking his way up her body, muttering about her freckles before pulling her nipple between his lips. His cock was right at her opening, and she moaned his name as he eased his hips forward and treated her to the tip.

When she tried to roll her hips for more, his hand pinned her down while he sucked on her breasts. And when she tried again, he released her long enough to say, "Don't rush it." All she could do was lay there with her feet braced against the bed and her sweaty palms clutching his sheets while he ran his nose along her freckles and tasted her skin.

After a few minutes, her teeth were chattering as she whispered, "Please? Bob. Please." And then her body relaxed until she felt like she melted as he thrust himself deep.

--------------------------------

Of course he was going to give Anna what she wanted. He had one fist wrapped up in her hair and the other holding her thigh, keeping her spread open for him as he tried to concentrate on each thrust. But she just felt so tight, and her tits were bouncing above her lace bra. He kissed all the freckles on her neck and along her elegant cheeks, taking the time to lick the darkest one that was closer to her ear while she grabbed at his shoulders.

This wasn't what he was expecting to find when he got home tonight. He thought maybe she'd be asleep or snuggled up in his bed. Instead her fingers were knuckle deep in her pussy as she whined for him with her eyes closed. How was he supposed to do anything except fuck her until she had exactly what she wanted from him? How was he ever supposed to stop wanting her exactly like this?

He was in love, and he was ready to tell her now. He didn't give a damn about Kevin or anything else. He would wait as long as it took to label it, but he wanted to be in a relationship, and he never wanted her to stop sharing his bed. When he tugged on her hair, she looked up at him through slightly dazed eyes, and he said, "Baby, tell me I'm allowed to cum inside you."

Instead of the answer he was expecting, she giggled softly and said, "You can cum wherever you want."

"Fuck," he gasped, dipping down to kiss her neck again as he brought his fingers down to her clit. Then she got really loud for him as he stroked her and fucked her harder. The sounds of their bodies meeting and the sounds from her mouth were so indecent, Bob was already seeing stars. He was closer than he wanted to be, but he felt her start shaking as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He went deep and she tossed her head back, arching her breasts against him as he sucked harder on her neck.

As soon as she hit another orgasm, pussy pulsing around his cock, it was over. He came inside her before pulling out and decorating her belly and even her tits and that pretty bra as well before he was spent. He was still holding his cock, trying to catch his breath, when she reached for him and cleaned his tip off with her tongue. Her brown eyes were wide as she looked up at him with his cock between her lips, and he whispered, "You can't run this time. I need you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, reaching for her discarded panties. "Clean me up so we can take a shower together?"

Bob nodded without saying another word as she kissed his softening cock and handed the underwear to him, guiding his hand down to the mess he made. She smiled and bit her lip as he wiped up his cum with the black lace, running it along her pussy and making her gasp his name.

"Come here," he whispered as he stood with the sticky underwear in his hand. He scooped her up when she crawled to him, and he carried her to the bathroom while she kissed along his neck. Without setting her down, Bob turned on the shower and let the water rinse her underwear as it warmed up. "Go ahead and climb in," he said, finally letting her feet touch the floor.

Anna's hair darkened to that irresistible shade of red as soon as the water hit it. She still looked a bit dazed as she stood there in her bra for a few seconds before finally removing it. Bob hung both pieces of her lingerie over the towel bar before he set down his glasses and joined her under the warm spray, and she tucked herself naturally into his arms. That's when he saw the bruise already blooming on the side of her neck, and he touched her there as he softly asked, "Did I hurt you?"

"Hmm?"

He took her chin in his hand and turned her face carefully away from him as he said, "I bruised you. Shit. Does it hurt?"

"No," she murmured, easing herself back into his arms. "It felt exquisite when you did it, and it doesn't hurt now."

"Good." He kissed the top of her head. "I never want to hurt you." The last person he ever wanted to make her think of was Kevin who seemed to have no remorse at all about leaving bruises on her arm and screaming in her face.

"You wouldn't," she whispered, barely audible over the sound of the water around them. "You're perfect. You're Sky Writing. You're Bob."

He held her close for a few minutes, enjoying the way her hands felt on his wet skin and in his hair. He kissed her softly and said, "Baby, you stole my heart." He grinned when she looked up at him with those hazy brown eyes and a little smile of her own, but then she gasped and jolted back a few inches.

"Wait," she muttered, releasing his body even as he still held onto her hips. Her gaze drifted away from his face as she worked her lip between her teeth, and when he started talking she shushed him. "I stole it? I stole it." Her gaze snapped back to his as she said, "I fucking stole it."

"Yeah?" he asked, concern crinkling his brow, unsure what to say, but it didn't matter, because she grabbed at his biceps and laughed loudly.

"I'll steal it." She gaped up at him with eyes wide as she said, "I'm going to steal it. You're a genius."

"I'm confused," he whispered as she laughed and buried her face against his chest and screamed softly. "So confused."

"I've figured it out! I'll steal my manuscript back from Kevin! It makes so much sense now!"

"It does?" he asked as she reached for his bottle of shampoo with a bright smile. 

"Oh, yes," she confirmed, working her hair into a lather. "And I think my idea is just unhinged enough to work."

----------------------------

They finished up in the shower quicker than Bob would have hoped given that he wanted to spend an hour running his soapy hands on her body. But it was after midnight now, and Anna was working through her plan silently with the promise that she almost had it in order in her mind. And soon enough she was wearing nothing but one of his undershirts with her damp hair clipped up on top of her head as she pushed him toward his bed.

Bob dropped down onto his back with his arms folded behind his head as she straddled his naked body and settled in with her hands on her thighs and her pussy resting on his abs. She clapped her hands together in excitement as he said, "You really put this whole plan together right after we had sex, huh?"

"I did," she confirmed with a giggle.

Bob snorted. "Bradley or Jake would call that 'post nut clarity'."

"Of course they would," she said with an eye roll. "But maybe they aren't wrong. I feel better than I have in months right now."

Bob smirked, feeling a little smug at the moment. "I'm ready," he said. "Tell me the plan."

Anna leaned down to kiss him once before settling back into her upright position with a smile. "I'm going to steal his computer from Kevin's hotel room."

Bob just blinked up at her. He opened his mouth and then closed it several times, unsure what to say. "Steal it? You realize you kind of sound like Nicolas Cage? Like you're going to try to steal the Declaration of Independence?"

"He did it successfully in the movie!"

"Didn't they basically tear apart the entire city of Philadelphia? Are you going to destroy San Diego?"

"Stop it," she said with a laugh. "I'm going to do nothing of the sort! But I've been spending all week thinking that there must be some benefit to still being married to Kevin."

Bob cringed. "Baby, please don't say those words. You don't belong with him."

She shrugged a little bit and nodded. "I know," she said quietly. "But it's still the truth. I'm stuck with him right now, but this might work. Besides, I finally accepted the fact I don't need my manuscript to be happy, but I do still really want it back. He doesn't deserve it."

Bob nodded too. "You're absolutely right. You don't need it, but you deserve it. So how are we going to do this thing?"

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted softly as she shook her head. "I can't ask you to help me with this. I can do it alone."

He sat up with her in his lap and wrapped both arms around her as his forehead met hers. "I don't want you going anywhere near him alone ever again."

"Well, I have his conference schedule memorized," she whispered. "I can do it without even seeing him. I think."

Bob sighed and pulled her down with him as he lay back on his pillow once more. "I want to help you." He drew little circles along her thighs. "Let me help you."

She yawned and curled up on his chest, and he held her just like he had been doing every night. "Maybe it would be a good idea to have someone there with me," she said slowly. "And I'm going to need to borrow a cocktail dress from Jessica. And possibly some nicer shoes."

Bob listened to her thoughts on the plan as she faded off to sleep in the very early hours of Sunday morning, more determined than ever to try to keep Anna with him. 

---------------------------------

Anna spent most of Sunday in bed with Bob. They didn't leave the warm sanctuary until noon, and even then it was only because his stomach was growling aggressively loudly. He skipped his afternoon run to make two omelettes stuffed full of cheese and vegetables, and Anna kissed his worried brow a million times as she told him her plan once again for the following evening.

"If Kevin catches on to what you're doing..." Bob mused out loud as she sat perched on his lap at the table. "I don't know, Anna. It's risky."

"It'll be like an adventure novel," she insisted. "Like Dumas! Or Cervantes! Maybe even Robert Louis Stevenson!" When he still looked nowhere near convinced, she sighed and said, "This is it, okay? If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work, but I've already tried everything else. And I refuse to let my fear of Kevin dictate whether or not I'm even going to try to get it back one last time."

His blue eyes were bright behind his glasses as he said, "So, this is confident Anna. I like her, too."

She smiled, and once they finished eating their very late breakfast, she took him upstairs again, pushed him down on his bed, and straddled his hips. Twenty minutes later, Bob was babbling about confident Anna as she rode him until they both came.

It wasn't until Monday morning that the dreamy weekend gave way to something a bit more anxiety inducing. Bob definitely knew the plan, but he was quiet as he packed their lunches. When Jessica arrived, she knocked on the door and handed Anna a garment bag containing three cocktail dresses and a pair of black stilettos.

"What do you need them for?" she asked with a wink, looking past Anna to where Bob was lacing up his boots. "Are you two going out somewhere?"

Anna exchanged a look with him, and when she turned back toward Jessica, her friend looked decidedly less enthusiastic. "Not exactly. But thanks for letting me borrow them." After that, she kissed Bob goodbye and whispered, "I'll see you later tonight." Then she got in the car with Jessica and headed to work with Bob's lunchbox.

The ride was quiet at first before Jessica finally asked, "Did you have a good time on Saturday night? I think Bob was a little anxious to leave D&D to get back to you."

Her cheeks flushed pink as she buried her face in her hands. "Jessica. I'm so in love with him. Everything about Bob is effortless, and he makes me feel safe."

"So you fucked again?"

Anna laughed. "Yes, Jessica. We fucked again. And tonight, I'm going to get myself free of Kevin once and for all. One way or another."

"How?" her friend asked in excitement as she parked in the faculty lot next to the science building. But Anna was already out of the car and heading toward her own office so she could make it to her first lecture of the week on time.

"Thanks for the ride! I'll see you by the weird tree!"

There was a hopefulness inside her as she gave her Classics lecture. The fall term was winding down, and she was already looking forward to teaching again in the spring. She was ready to meet with the dean about tenure. She was ready for tonight to go smoothly so she could take full ownership of her life here.

When she approached her friends at lunchtime, Anna looked at them a little bit nervously. Asking to borrow a dress and some shoes was one thing, but she did need something else if she was going to play a convincing role later. She sat down between the two of them while they argued with each other about some law of physics that she didn't even understand, and when Jessica finally stopped long enough to take a deep breath, Anna turned toward the other woman.

"I know this is going to be a very strange request. And I'm sorry for putting you on the spot right now."

"Oh," Jessica said. "Does this have to do with Kevin?"

"Yes," Anna said, glancing at her quickly before turning back to Advanced Calculus, her sharp gaze concerned now.

"What do you need? I'll help you if I can," she told Anna with a shrug.

Anna's gaze fell to her left hand as she held the container of hummus that Bradley packed for her, and she softly asked,  "Can I borrow your engagement ring and wedding band?"

Without hesitation, she set the container down and started to twist the rings on her finger, loosening them to remove them as tears filled Anna's eyes. She never thought that moving to San Diego would change her life so much, but now she had two friends who would seemingly do anything for her without question.

"How long do you need them? Because Bradley is going to notice they are missing immediately when he picks me up later," she replied, dropping both rings into Anna's hand.

"Just for tonight," Anna promised, slipping them onto her own finger before anything could happen to them. She hadn't missed her rings one bit since she sold them off, and she already felt more protective of her friend's rings than she had of her own. "I can drop them off at your house later."

"Sounds good," her friend replied easily before biting into a carrot stick. "So according to Jess, you and Bob are fucking again? Why don't we cover that topic before lunch is over? And then you better fill us in on this Kevin business."

So with a poorly contained smile and the barest amount of details, Anna told them about her weekend and her plans for tonight and tomorrow.

-------------------------------

Fight, Anna, fight! Send Kevin back to New Jersey empty handed! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

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@fandom-princess-forevermore

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[plushish]

Resisting Temptation | Adam x Drunk!Reader

summary — In which Adam brings you home after a night out and manages not to be a complete degenerate, despite being tempted to when you start to drunkenly masturbate in front of him.

content — 1,744 words, fem reader, fem pronouns, smut, pre-established friendship (you're like best friends), masturbation, exhibitionism, some pining

a/n — my first story on here! wow!!!!! warning for drunken flirting, i guess slight dubcon? though adam is drunk too. also reader is kinda lute-coded

SMUT AHEAD !

“I had no idea you were such a fuckin’ lightweight,” Adam laughs boisterously, with you sprawled in his bed with eyes you can barely keep open, warmth burning through your every limb. The sensation wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, just overwhelming coupled with all the other shit going on with your other senses. At least you were somewhere comfortable instead of on the cold tiles of the club’s bathroom floor, which was where he’d found you after you disappeared for thirty minutes. You’d take the smell of his sweaty sheets over the stained, cold tiles any day.

You were familiar with this space, having come here many times prior to. Whether it was for a house party, a jam session, or just to crash for a bit, you’d been in this very spot on his bed too many times to not be comfortable here.

“I can’t take your shit right now, just shut up for a bit, please.“ You slur out, earning a grumpy mumble from him, something along the lines of ‘don’t tell me to fucking shut up’. You were more concerned about the unbearable temperature in your face and your core, lazily lifting your shirt up your midriff to try and remedy some of it.

“Whoa, feelin’ hot are we? Tryna show me something?”

Your intentions were certainly not to make yourself appealing to the man in the room with you. Adam was just like that. He would get excited over a woman bending over to tie her shoe. It wasn’t that you were suddenly attracted to him– but something about him misinterpreting your action coupled with the way his voice, intoxicated with a sensual undertone and a hint of his sleazy charm, flicked the switch in your brain soaked with alcohol. “Yeah, it’s too hot,” you breathe with a sudden intensity. “Need it off.”

After a night of warm bodies near yours and some appetitive dancing, you had some lasting energy pent up– and whatever sort of restraint that normally keeps you from your deepest impulses is turned off at that moment. You spread your thighs and begin to tug down your bottoms.

Adam’s face heats up slightly, but for once, he stays quiet on his side of the room. Changes into something more comfortable and just watches as you toss your pants and underwear to a miscellaneous pile of his laundry in the corner.

In Adam’s bed, you feel right at home. Though it’s not something either of you have ever brought up or discussed, there is nothing that strikes you as particularly odd about stripping down in front of him to start touching yourself.

“...Cute,” He chuckles softly, sitting in his lounge chair. Getting lost in his own drunken haze, he drops his chin in his hand to watch with half-lidded eyes as you drunkenly spread yourself open.

“ ‘m not cute… I’m sexy,” You playfully correct him, rum on your lips. Though his breath smells of alcohol too, it’s much more prevalent on you, floating in the air around you. Suddenly feeling a little hot himself, he makes his way to his en suite bathroom, where he fills a glass with some water. You were way too far gone. He was too.

Adam makes his way back to your side of the bed. “Sit up, bitch,” he instructs crudely, but you obey. Standing right next to you, he tries not to pay your ministrations any mind, but still listens to the slick sound of it with a flush in his face.

Adam brings the cup to your lips with a little bit of annoyance as you sway from side to side, making him spill some down your chin along the way with a groan, a ‘fuckin’ damnit [Name]’, and an impatient sigh. Despite this, you drink obediently, wrapping your other hand around Adam’s to hold the glass in place, which only makes its contents slosh around more thanks to your disoriented movements.

“Holy fuck, slow down dude,” He complains as you chug wildly, still clumsily going at your own cunt with your other hand.

When he pulls the glass away from your mouth, you inhale sharply and deeply as you catch your breath from your unrestrained drinking.

“Don’t wanna,” you say breathlessly, a rivulet of water dripping down the corner of your lip. He stares, takes in the shine on your moistened lips in the dimly lit room. “Feels too good.”

Your tone is uncharacteristically seductive. He’s never seen you like this before. Adam sets the glass on a nightstand and sits on the bed next to you, your backs both against the headboard, same like how he does when you come over to binge shows and rot in bed with him for hours, sometimes days at a time.

“Really can’t stop?” He asks, a little irritated by the fact you’re bringing it up, making the awkwardness of trying to veer his attention away even more challenging.

“Yeah,” you hum, eyes closed. “Needed this so bad.”

He can’t keep himself from taking a glance– your shirt furled up, showing the expanse of skin there, a hand over your drooling cunt. Inches away from him.

“Hey, [Name],” he says in a serious but equally sultry tone all of a sudden.

“Yeeeaaah?” You sing-song.

“You’re really sexy.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you’re such a little doll. Fuckin’ cute,” He praises uncharacteristically, now stroking your hair with a gentleness you had scarcely ever seen from him before. Definitely the alcohol. He watches the way your lips form a lazy drunken smile, blissed out from your own touching. You watch his droopy eyes stare at you with some sort of intensity that you can’t quite read through your inebriated lens, but in your mind, you equate it with the same douchebag look you’ve seen in most other shitty men when they want sex.

“We have to fuck,” you suddenly blurt out.

His eyes widen into saucers.

Why now?

“Do we?” Adam asks casually, a little flippantly, as if he wasn’t completely stoked on the idea. Grinning slyly as if he hasn’t already suggested that a hundred times before, acting coy as if you hadn’t ignored his sexual advances for as long as he’s known you.

You nod very seriously while hopelessly trying to achieve more stimulation through your disoriented touching, your lower half raising off the mattress for a moment.

“Gonna have to turn that one down, babe,” he replies cooly, and in his mind, he pats himself on the back for actually turning down sex with you. “I’ll keep you in mind for next time though, ‘kay?”

You groan at his arrogance. “You’re unreal,” you spit, “so fucking annoying…” slurring and mumbling to yourself about something incoherent, and he snorts as he hears you ramble on, something under your breath about ‘blue balls’.

He’d be lying if he said his dick wasn’t achingly hard in his pants, but he won’t take advantage of you. This isn’t how he hoped it would happen, as loath as he is to admit to himself something as emotionally vulnerable as that. Maybe a little selfish.

He was definitely storing mental pictures and notes away for his own personal use later, but for now, he’s fine with just petting your head while you fuck yourself on your fingers.

“You’re just afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle me.” You say suddenly.

God. Fuck. He’s used to this type of behaviour from you, but not within a context like this. This is a real trial. It takes almost everything in him not to verbally challenge you back, so many possible sleazy responses he could give you. He’s no stranger to setting a mood. So many ways to provoke or tease you.

But he doesn’t, instead opting to ignore you with a grumbled and nonchalant “Yeah, okay, whatever” as he reaches for the remote to flick on the TV. Actions speak louder than words or whatever. Part of him hopes you’ll remember this later.

You scoff, too drunk and too enveloped in your own stimulation to care. You had other things to tend to.

He manages to veer his attention after that, his head turned to where his screen displays a rerun of some 4 AM cartoon. He tries to focus on the bouncing characters rather than what’s tempting him on the other edge of the bed.

A dull sight compared to you, naked from the waist down and still rubbing your cunt, a little slower now, distracted by the TV. Just next to him, fingers pressed against where your blood is swollen and sensitive. You spread yourself and feel how wet you are. Adam can hear the drooling sound of it so clearly, somehow tasteful to him, like light rainfall over a pond or a bathing suit dripping into a tub; sleepy summer sounds.

“Can you just rub your dick against my clit a little?” You ask, moving your fingers as if to give illustration of the idea, so swollen.

“Show me how you like to do it,” Adam proposes instead. “what gets you off best.”

You lean into him, letting out a pleased hum. In his own drunken haze though, he can’t help himself from it when he presses sloppy wet kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your swollen lips that taste so strongly of alcohol. You accept the kisses plainly while your fingers slot against your clit, pinching lightly. You moan breathily, hot against his lips.

God, you’re too fucking precious. He wants to be inside you so badly. He fuckin’ would be, if he were just a little bit worse of a person, if he happened to not give a fuck about you, if you weren’t already gasping and cumming, leaking onto the sheets of his bed.

“Good girl. Bet your pussy feels better now, huh?”

“Yeah...” You say with a yawn, the aftertaste of your orgasm already beckoning your body to rest.

“Get to sleep. You’ll need rest when I make you regret putting all this shit on me tomorrow.”

“Hey, Adam…”

“‘Sup?” He asks with that signature douchey indifference.

You scoot forward, tucking your head under his jaw. Lean into his neck and breathe against the pulse there.

Are you going to say it…?

“I’ve gotta piss,” you slur out. “and puke a little, probably.”

Adam deflates with disappointment.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” He sighs in defeat, before tossing the blankets back off of you and slipping a hand under your legs to carry you.

i didnt proofread this cuz ive read it a thousand times already but anyway let me know if u see any spelling mistakes at all, before someone else gets the chance to see them cuz that would be embarrassing and i'd have to boil myself alive

[asdfghjklmals]

BLAME GAME✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. daddy joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi makes a small appearance.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend tries to play a prank on satoru, but he slips up and gets himself in trouble instead... AUTHOR'S NOTE: lol i saw a funny reel of this girl pranking her boyfriend and i got inspired. also used something from the jjk short stories. 😉 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“satoru gojo!” you bellowed from the bedroom.

you heard his feet promptly shuffling to your room as your white-haired boyfriend peaked his head through the bedroom door. you repeated his name again.

“satoru gojo!”

“uh? yeah? that's me...” he stared at you, concerned and confused, walking slowly to the foot of your king sized bed.

“come here.” you said with no emotion in your face, using your index finger to lure him towards you. it took all of you to not burst out laughing in his face. it was amusing to see the soft and bewildered look on his face. he was really such an attentive boyfriend who loved you silly and he was truly worried.

“why are you calling me by my—wait, you never use my government name. we go by babe, baby, sweet cheeks, honey, and sometimes daddy in this household!” he stomped his feet jokingly, trying not to laugh because he couldn’t tell if this was a dangerous situation and if he needed to tread lightly. your lips twitched as you also tried not to laugh either or your cover would be blown.

“satoru, honey.” you said more calmly, but with a hint of danger in your tone. god, you deserved an emmy award for your acting.

satoru was going through all the events that happened today in his head, trying to figure out what he did wrong along the way. “we went shopping today, i made you your morning coffee perfectly may i add, i took out the trash, megumi did the laundry, and i didn't leave my socks around the apartment… so why are you using my government name like that?!”

“what do you think it is?” you questioned him.

“i literally have no clue. you should be having a good sunday so far and i was enjoying my day until you used my full name instead of baby. i haven’t even done anything yet!” satoru defended himself, scratching the back of his head. he was out of back up plans, it was time to resort to an emergency measure. kisses. lots of kisses.

he swiftly made his way over to your side of the bed and sat down next to your side, he grinned at you and tried to sneak a kiss on your cheek but you stopped him just shy of your face. his lips hit your palm instead. “you know what you did.”

“babe, what did i do? just tell me and i promise i’ll make everything right again,” he whispered as he kissed your ear. you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise as you shuddered. he stared at you with piercing azure eyes, his sunglasses sliding down his nose bridge.

“why are you whispering?” you started giggling.

satoru gojo was a smart and calculated man (most days), but today, he was really at a loss. “why are you laughing?” he demanded to know.

“i saw the funniest video of a girl doing this exact thing to her boyfriend and you had the same reaction as him.” you kept giggling after explaining. your bright smile made your green eyes disappear, crows feet wrinkle, and your pearly whites glisten.

as much as satoru could melt by watching you laugh, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “i really thought you were upset with me! you never use my full name unless i’m in trouble with you. i thought my ass was going to be sleeping on the couch tonight for sure. my neck already started to hurt thinking about it.” he dramatized as he massaged the back of his neck, but it wouldn’t be satoru gojo without the theatrics.

“i had to go through all the things in my head that would’ve upset you like not taking out the garbage, leaving my socks around the house, fighting with megumi, not putting down the toilet seat after peeing cause of that one time you fell in, not separating the white and dark laundry colors, or even when the kids and i were at the maid cafe last wee—”

and that’s when satoru gojo saw his life flash before his eyes. he covered his mouth quickly with his free hand, his eyes wide open in terror. you glared into his panicked blue eyes.

“satoru gojo! you went where?! and you took megumi too?!” this time, there was no acting in your tone.

EXTRA:

“come on, megumi, pick up the damn phone. don’t forget that i pay for your phone bill.” satoru gritted through his teeth. he had just received a 20 minute lecture on how megumi and yuji didn’t need to be in a maid cafe and that he didn’t have any business being there either. it was actually an honest accident that they ended up there. the kids followed him into the maid cafe where he was scoping out an abandoned building where some curses were lingering across the street. he wanted to use the building as his afternoon lesson with his students.

“what do you want?” the younger fushiguro picked up, annoyance in his tone of voice.

“well, that’s not a polite way of answering the phone that your guardian pays the cell phone bill for.” satoru quipped.

“it’s always something with you, gojo-sensei,” megumi sighed. 10 years of putting up with satoru gojo did that to people. megumi wondered how you dealt with him. you deserved a nobel peace prize in his eyes.

“well, (y/n) found out about the maid cafe,”

“and you’re in trouble with the boss. cool, i’ll see you at home la—”

“no, no. not just me, we are in trouble.”

“it was your stupid idea to go there! who the hell scopes out an abandoned building at a freakin’ maid cafe?” megumi couldn’t believe that he was being dragged into a punishment too. last time he got in trouble, you took away his kindle that you and satoru had gotten him for christmas last year.

the white haired sorcerer pulled a picture out from his wallet. it was a picture of megumi and yuji from the maid cafe. satoru cunningly suggested a scapegoat, “how do we somehow put the blame on yuji?”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[anniebeemine]

It's Better To Ask For Forgiveness Than For Permission- s.r. x fem!reader

Spencer gets your daughters ears pierced without your permission

The house was unusually quiet when Spencer and Josie came home from their afternoon at the mall. You glanced at the clock—barely past five, which meant they should’ve been bursting through the door with laughter and stories to tell. But instead, all you heard was the soft shuffling of shoes as Josie quietly made her way upstairs. Suspicious. Both Spencer and Josie were two of the loudest people you knew, always buzzing with excitement after spending time together.

You were in the laundry room, scrubbing furiously at a wine-stained tablecloth from the dinner party the night before, when Spencer slipped in. He kissed your temple without a word. “How was shopping?” you asked, pausing for a second to gauge his expression.

“Fine,” he replied simply, far too nonchalantly. He left for the living room before you could question him further. Something was definitely up.

When it came time for bed, Josie didn’t want you to brush her hair, which was odd. At seven years old, she loved the nightly routine of sitting on the bathroom counter while you gently detangled her wild curls before tucking them into a loose bun. But tonight, she insisted, “I can do it myself, Mom.”

You blinked at her in confusion but gave her space. “Alright, if you’re sure,” you said, stepping out of the bathroom. She promptly shut the door behind you, leaving you standing in the hallway with an uneasy feeling in your gut.

A little while later, you heard her small footsteps padding downstairs. “Dad?” Josie poked at Spencer’s arm as he sat on the couch, a picture of calm with his nose in a book.

He hummed softly before giving Josie his full attention. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Can you help me?”

The exchange felt off. Spencer got up, following her back upstairs without a word. That sinking feeling in your chest deepened, and despite telling yourself it was probably nothing, curiosity—and worry—got the better of you. You crept quietly up the stairs and lingered by the hallway bathroom, peeking through the small crack in the door.

There they were—your daughter, holding her hair up as Spencer carefully tended to her ears, which were now adorned with tiny, sparkling studs.

“Josephine Penelope Reid,” you said, using her full name in that ‘Mom means business’ tone, your voice low and disbelieving. “And Spencer Walter Reid.”

Josie groaned, her shoulders slumping as she whined, “Mom, chill! It’s not a big deal!”

“Not a big deal?” You crossed your arms, stepping fully into the doorway. “You went and got your ears pierced without asking me.”

Spencer turned to you, sheepish but trying to hide a smile. “It’s just… we were at the mall, and she asked, and I thought—”

“You thought it’d be fine to do this behind my back?” you interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him.

The room fell into an awkward silence, thick with the tension between all three of you. Spencer's shoulders tensed slightly as he turned back to your daughter, who had shifted uncomfortably in her seat on the bathroom counter. Her brows furrowed, a mirror of Spencer’s own expression when he was anxious, the resemblance between them striking in moments like this.

Spencer glanced at you, his lips parting as if to say something but quickly shutting again. His fingers, usually so steady, fidgeted with a cotton swab, and the sparkle of Josie’s new earrings caught the light as she bit her lip.

Josie’s eyes widened as she looked between the two of you. “Dad said it was okay! And I’m seven now, Mom, I can totally handle it.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “That’s not the point, Josie. It’s about letting me know first.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Josie said, quieter now, her bravado waning.

Spencer took a deep breath, stepping in. “I should’ve asked you. I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal in the moment.” He gently tugged on one of Josie’s curls, making her giggle despite the situation.

You sighed internally before the frustration set in. Josie had been begging for months to get her ears pierced. You had denied her time and time again. She had been hopeful, hanging onto your hand when walking past the jewelry store. Shee brought it up at family dinners, would drop hints while you were watching TV, even left sticky notes with doodles of earrings around the house. She was relentless, as stubborn as Spencer when he got fixated on an idea. You’d catch her practicing in front of the mirror, holding up earrings she’d made out of paperclips and beads, and though it was endearing, you weren’t quite ready to say yes.

You gave him a long, hard look, the annoyance fading into something more affectionate. “Both of you... you’re lucky I love you.”

Josie beamed, rushing forward to hug you, careful not to bump her newly adorned ears. “We love you too, Mom.”

Spencer smiled as you pulled Josie into your arms. "Next time," you warned, "we make decisions like this together."

"Deal," Spencer agreed, leaning in to kiss you softly. "Though in my defense, she can be very persuasive. She gave me the puppy dog eyes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Clearly."

[mamaestapa]

Bedtime Stories|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•prompt #71: “and that’s how daddy got mommy to marry him” (this is from my wattpad NFL imagines)

•summary: Your daughter wants a bedtime story before she goes to bed, so Joe decides to tell her the story of how he proposed to you

•warnings: Children, pregnancy, so much fluff🤍 dad joe is my absolute favorite

"Alright Josie Lee, time for bed." You said to your four year old daughter, who was currently coloring a picture of a tiger.

"But mommy," she looked up at you, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout, "can I please finish this picture for daddy?"

You sighed, brushing your fingers through your daughters dark blonde hair. “Be quick." you said, smiling at her.

She squealed, "Yay! Thanks mommy, you the best."

She went back to coloring the tiger, careful not to color outside the lines. You smiled as you watched her. You decided to fold some laundry before you had to put Josie to bed. As you were folding bath towels you heard a squeal come from the kitchen.

"Daddy!" Josie squealed. Joe started to tickle her little sides, making the little girl giggle uncontrollably. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face as you listened to your little girls giggle. You put down the towel you just folded and walked back into the kitchen. The sight in front of you made your heart swell with love.

"I love your tiger baby girl, she is very cute."

"It's not a she daddy, it's a boy!"

Joe put his hands up in defense, "Oh! Sorry, sorry, forgive me."

She giggled, "I forgive you daddy. Look!" She held up the paper showing him the drawing. "He's wearing your jersey."

Joe gushed, "Oh my goodness, look at that! He’s wearing a number nine jersey like daddy.”

"His name is Joey."

Joe kissed her forehead, "I love it, Josie girl."

She smiled, reaching out to hug Joe, "Thanks daddy. I love you."

"Oh I love you more."

You walked over to both of them, wrapping an arm around Joe and an arm around Josie. "And mommy loves you two the most."

Joe leaned down and kissed your temple, squeezing you softly.

"What about baby sister?" Josie asked, her mouth gaped open, “don't you love her too!?

You placed your hands on your belly, rubbing your bump. You and Joe were expecting another baby girl in the early fall. In just a few short months your little family of three, would soon become four. Joe was meant to be a girl dad, and adding another little girl into his life made him so happy. "Of course I love baby sister." You said, a slight frown on your face as you ran a hand through Josie’s hair. Josie smiled and put her small hands on your bump, rubbing it, softly, “I love her too."

"Me three." Joe said, placing his veiny hand on the center of your belly. You smiled, putting yours on top of his. "Are you ready for bed now Josie?"

She frowned, "Can I make a picture for Uncle Sammy? I think he'd want a Joey tiger, but with his number instead."

Joe smiled, "I think he would too. But," he picked her up from the barstool, making her giggle, "you can make him one tomorrow, okay? It's getting late sweetheart."

She nodded, her little ocean blue eyes lighting up as she looked at her father, "Otay daddy." Joe smiled at his daughter as he set her down on the ground, "You lead the way princess."

Josie ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. Joe held his hand out to you, "Come on Mama, let's go put the princess to bed so you, me, and the little one can watch another episode of Yellowstone."

You chuckled, taking his hand, "Sounds good to me. Lead the way, daddy."

Joe wiggled his eyebrows, "Oh, maybe we should save Yellowstone for another night."

You shook your head, "No, no. I love you, but I can't, I'm too huge." You said as you gestured to your six month protruding baby bump. Joe wrapped his arm around your waist, supporting your belly as both of you walked up the stairs. "You're not huge baby, you look sexy. Even more sexier now that you're carrying my baby, again."

You couldn't help but blush at his comment. You shook your head at your husband and continued to walk up the stairs. Once both of you were upstairs, you went into your daughters room. She was laying in bed, patiently waiting for you and Joe to tuck her in. "Alright peanut," Joe sighed as he sat on the edge of her bed. Josie smiled and laid down in her pink sheets. Joe pulled the soft pink cover over her little body. She snuggled further under the blankets, smiling up at her daddy. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, "I love you Josie."

She leaned up and kissed Joe on the tip of his nose, "I love you daddy. Can you tell me a story?" she pouted her little pink lips, "I'm not sleepy yet."

Joe glanced over at you before turning back to Josie, "A story huh?"

You smiled, climbing into bed next to Joe's mini me. You wrapped your arm around Josie and she immediately snuggled into you. She placed her small hand on your belly, hoping to feel her little sisters kicks. "Yeah daddy, tell us a story." you said, your smile widening as you saw Josie's excitement when she felt a kick to her little hand. Joe smiled and got off the bed. He grabbed Josie's unicorn beanbag that sat in the corner of her room, and placed it down next to her bed, plopping himself into it.

"Get comfy ladies, this could be a long one."

Josie looked up at you and smiled. You squeezed her gently and scrunched your nose. Both of you turned your attention back to Joe as he began telling a story.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young woman named Y/n."

Josie gasped, "Like mommy?!"

Joe couldn't help but chuckle, "Yes, like mommy." He continued his story, "So Y/n, this beautiful woman, was dating a man named Joe."

She gasped again, "Like daddy?!"

You laughed, "Yes, like daddy."

Joe just smiled at you before continuing, "Joe and Y/n had been dating for four years."

"That's as old as me!" Josie whispered in shock. You and Joe chuckled at your daughters reaction. She was going to have a comment to make about every part of the story, and you and Joe loved it. "Now, Joe knew as soon as he met Y/n that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But Y/n was too good for little ol' Joe." Josie giggled, making a smile grace Joe's features. His baby girls laugh never failed to put a smile on his face. "But Joe got the courage to ask out the pretty lady, and to his surprise she said, 'why of course i'll go out with you!' That made Joe very happy."

You laughed lightly as Joe told a dramatic story of how the two of you met years ago during your time at LSU. If anything, you were the one that thought Joe was too good for you. But boy did he prove you wrong. And you definitely didn't say "why of course i'll go out with you".

"So Joe and Y/n went out on a date. He took her to his favorite places in Baton Rouge, the city they met, and they had their first kiss right in front of the ice cream shop. The first date turned into a second date, and the second date turned into a third, until eventually Joe asked Y/n to be his girlfriend."

"What did she say?" Josie asked, her small voice full of curiosity as she sat up in your embrace. "She said yes, of course!" Joe exclaimed, making you giggle softly. Josie smiled and nodded, "Good." She laid back in bed once again and listened to her father continue his bedtime story.

"And as the years went on, the two of them were so in love with each other. Joe picked out a ring, but not just any ring, an engagement ring. With a gold band and three small diamonds. It was beautiful, just like his Y/n." Joe looked up at you with a smile as he spoke, his blue eyes full of love, "He wanted to ask her to marry him, but he didn't know how. He knew it had to be special because Y/n deserved the best proposal ever. So, Joe asked some of this good friends from his old school, Nick and Sam-."

Before Joe could finish, Josie gasped, "Like Uncle Nick and Uncle Sam!?"

Joe nodded, laughing softly as he spoke, "Yup. Now, Nick and Sam had some ideas for Joe. Nick told Joe he should take her out to the same places they went to on their first date. Joe liked the idea, but it didn't stand out to him. Sam suggested he take Y/n on a trip somewhere with a beach, like Hawaii, and propose to her on the beach—which was one of her favorite places." It's true, the beach has always been one of your favorite places. "But that idea didn't stick out to him either. So Joe waited. He waited weeks, which turned into months, until the perfect moment came to propose to Y/n. Joe had just gotten the best news of his life, he was going to be a daddy. A daddy to the most beautiful little girl in the whole world."

Josie smiled up at you widely, making you squeeze her gently. She giggled and leaned in closer to you as she listened to her daddy finish the story.

"When Y/n told Joe they were having a baby, he was so excited! He couldn't wait to have a baby with the woman he loved so much. It was when Joe was hugging Y/n, with his hand placed gently on her belly just like this," he moved so he could place his hand on your baby bump. You placed your hand over his and smiled warmly at him. "That he knew he was going to propose to her, right there. And that's what he did. He got down on one knee and asked Y/n if she would marry him. Y/n started crying, which made Joe cry too."

"Why were they crying?" Josie asked, sadness lacing her small voice.

"Because they were happy. They were so, so happy. Y/n said 'yes' and Joe swore his heart grew ten times bigger that day. He was going to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, and soon he was going to be a daddy to the most beautiful girl in the world. His Josie Lee."

Josie sat up abruptly, her jaw dropping open, "Josie!? That's me!"

You laughed, rubbing your daughters back, "You're right Josie, that is you." Joe smiled as he stood up from the bean bag. "And that, that was the story of how daddy got mommy to marry him."

"I knew it!" Josie smiled, pointing her small index finger at Joe. The three of you laughed, happily. "That was a good story daddy."

"It was, wasn't it?" Joe asked, reaching out to grab your hand as you both smiled. The story of yours and Sams relationship never gets old.

You sighed, "It's one of mommy's favorites. But it's getting late peanut," you tucked a strand of Josies dark blonde hair behind her ear, "you need to go to bed so you can draw a tiger for Uncle Sam in the morning." Josie squealed, "Yes! Can you tuck me in now so it can be morning soon?" she asked in her sweet little voice.

Joe chuckled, "I like the way you think." You rolled out of the bed and walked, well more like waddled, over to the other side of Josie's bed. Joe pulled the covers over her body, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I love you Josie. Sleep tight, peanut."

She smiled, grabbing her tiger stuffed animal and snuggling it close to her. "I love you daddy." Joe stepped away so you could say goodnight to your daughter. "Goodnight my love." You kissed her forehead. She leaned over and kissed your belly. "Goodnight mommy. Goodnight baby sister. I love you." You smiled warmly. "I love you more peanut."

Josie laid back down and closed her eyes. You turned her bedroom light off and walked out of her room, closing the door behind you and Joe. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently. "You still up for some Yellowstone?" You nodded, "As long as you'll rub my feet and feed me ice cream?" Joe chuckled and placed a chaste kiss to your lips. "Of course, anything for my girls."

You were the luckiest woman in the world. Joe Burrow was truly the best husband (and daddy) ever.

hey loves!!

in honor of father’s day here’s a dad joe imagine i’ve had sitting in my drafts for weeks lol

hope you all liked it! dad joe is my favorite to write, it’s so so sweet🤍

that’s all i have for now! ;)

[unholybacon355]

Everything stays in the family: Part Five

Park Jihyo x G!P Huh Yunjin

Word Count: 3.7K

TW: Incest.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

DISCLAIMER: I'm adding this disclaimer because I think it's necessary.

This story have some taboo themes like incesto to name one. I need to say that obviously some of the things I wrote here aren't good and by any means I'm trying to make it look like good and normal things. Read at your own discretion.

Everything you see here is fiction and many things in this story are not really good. This is for fun and only for that. Also, all the characters you see here are adults and Jihyo is older, but I'm not specifying how old she is.

Another thing to say is that I have no clue about how human bodies actually work, so you can't expect me to be very accurate about some things. I'm not saying what because I want you to figure it out as you read.

Summary: Things in Yunjin's life really turn upside down when someone unexpected returns from her past. After that everything becomes chaos in her life.

CHAPTER FIVE

Yunjin's blood ran cold instantly. All the embracing heat she had been feeling until then left her body in a rush, giving way to an icy cold that threatened to turn her into an ice statue. She had been so immersed in her own fantasies and the pleasure she was feeling, that she was not able to hear Jihyo's footsteps approaching the laundry room.

“Yunjin, I asked you a question.” Forcing her arm to move, Yunjin moved the worn thong away from her face, but kept her grip on the garment covering her cock. “Are you not planning to respond?”

“Jihyo, I…” She didn't know what to say, even without looking at her mother the redhead couldn't find the right words to respond. But frankly those words might not have existed. Because what can you say to your mother when she catches you masturbating with her used panties? There was no way to articulate a coherent sentence to answer that question.

“Huh Yunjin. I swear if I have to ask you one more time I'm going to be really angry.” The truth was that could not be heard any anger in Jihyo's voice. Maybe upset, yes, but not angry. Which was strange because the normal thing would have been for her to get very angry right away. After all, no matter how much Jihyo asked, the truth was that Yunjin still had the older woman's thong tightly wrapped around her penis. Not only that, but said garment was covered in Yunjin's thick semen.

The redhead turned around slowly, as slowly as she had moved the black panties away from her face, trying to bend over in a pathetic attempt to hide her crotch. But the truth was that nothing could separate her from Jihyo's inquisitive gaze. Because although she didn't sound angry, she was frowning and was drilling her daughter with her gaze.

It was clear that Jihyo had gone to the laundry room to leave more dirty clothes because at her feet there was a small pile of clothes, which she had presumably dropped when she found Yunjin in that embarrassing situation. The woman was wearing a two-piece light blue silk pajama, shorts and a tank top, so it was also clear that she had planned to go to bed early that day. Sadly for Yunjin that had not happened and instead Jihyo had decided to finish leaving the dirty clothes where they belonged.

“Jihyo, sorry.” The words barely left Yunjin's lips, her mouth had gone dry and a lump had formed in her throat. Plus the redhead didn't dare look the older woman in the eyes, she didn't want to be judged by that severe look. “Please don't think anything strange about me, I…”

“You still don't answer my question.” Jihyo cut her off.

“Yes, it is what it seems, but please…”

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you were doing.”

“I…I…” Yunjin couldn't fathom the idea of saying out loud what he had been doing, much less saying it in front of her mother. But she knew that if she didn't she would be stuck here forever, it was better to do it once and for all. “I was masturbating with your underwear.” Yunjin could feel the blood rushing to her face again,dyeing it red.

But instead of starting to scold her, Jihyo stretched out her hand towards Yunjin. “Give them to me.” She stayed for a few seconds with her hand open waiting for Yunjin to act. “Yunjin hand me my panties right now.” The tone with which she spoke was firm.

The redhead didn't want to take her hand off her crotch, partly to avoid revealing her member and partly because she didn't want to give the dirty garment to her mother. But she knew that it was better not to disobey Park Jihyo when she had given you an order, and this was not going to be the time that she did not listen to the woman. So, full of shame, Yunjin put the underwear in her mother's hand.

Jihyo took the garment and held it up to examine it better. She stretched it out and saw how it was soaked with her daughter's semen, it was so much that it stuck to her hand and a few drops fell to the floor. She then tightened the garment causing more semen to leak out and smear all over her hand and threw the garment onto the pile of dirty clothes at her feet.

“What were you doing with the other pair?”

Yunjin was too embarrassed to admit that she had been sniffing the worn garment, but at least it wasn't covered in her fluids. “I was smelling them.” She said finally looking at the floor from the weight of shame.

“Little pervert, do you like the smell of my vagina?” The question threw Yunjin a little because it wasn't at all what she had been expecting.

"Yeah." That brief statement did not at all reflect how much Yunjin had enjoyed smelling Jihyo's panties. She had the urge to tell her that she thought it was the most wonderful scent in the world and that she would give anything to smell it again, but she managed to do it and hold back. If she said any of those things right now it would only make her situation worse.

“On your knees, right now.” Yunjin thought for a second if she heard correctly, because she didn't understand why Jihyo wanted her to kneel, but she prepared to beg for forgiveness like that. In the midst of her confusion she forgot to put her penis back inside her pants, plus one of her knees ended up on the panties full of semen that Jihyo had dropped a few moments ago. “If you wanted to smell so bad, you should have asked.”

Even more confused than before, Yunjin watched as her mother put her hands on the hem of her shorts and began to lower it, sliding the garment over her toned thighs. She then folded the shorts and left them on the floor a little away from the pile of dirty clothes. What came next confused the redhead even more because now Jihyo was taking off her panties. In the same way as she did before, she folded the garment and left it on top of the shorts before standing in front of her daughter.

Right now Yunjin was kneeling on the floor looking up at Jihyo who was wearing nothing but a pajama top, which showed a lot of her tits and abdomen. But what really caught the redhead's attention was her mother's crotch. In front of her she could see the vagina she had been fantasizing about all day. Yunjin was perfectly able to see the delicate but thick lips of Jihyo's vulva, the small bud that hid her clitoris, and the perfectly manicured patch of hair on her mons pubic. In Yunjin's opinion it was the most perfect vagina she had ever seen in her life, but that wasn't something she was going to say right now.

Yunjin didn't understand what was going on or what Jihyo wanted, but she was sure she could spend hours staring at the older woman's private parts. Such a perfect creation should be admired and adored, and the redhead was precisely in a position to do that. It was as if she was kneeling worshiping an omnipotent goddess, and thanking her for letting her exist on the same material plane as her. Except for the small detail that she was actually staring hungrily at her mother's crotch.

“Aren't you going to sniff? Isn't that what you wanted?” Jihyo's questions brought the redhead out of her reverie and made her swallow, laboriously because she still felt a lump in her throat. Did the older woman really want Yunjin to sniff her vagina? This had to be some kind of joke because there was no chance in the entire world that instead of getting a reprimand she would be receiving an reward like this. Although there was also the possibility that Jihyo was playing with her and just wanted to make her look like an even bigger pervert, so she could later accuse her to her father.

All kinds of terrible thoughts crossed Yunjin's mind at that moment, each one worse than the last. She imagined herself being kicked out of the house, having to drop out of college, and even having to turn to her biological mother after everything that had happened. But fortunately for the redhead, none of that would ever happen, although she didn't know it yet.

“Be a good girl and obey your mother.” The sudden mention of the word “Mother” caused an unexpected effect on Yunjin. The girl knew that what she was doing right now was wrong and totally prohibited under normal circumstances, but it had already become clear that these were not normal circumstances. So hearing Jihyo refer to herself as her mother only made her want this even more.

Allowing herself to be carried away by the moment, and obeying her mother, Yunjin closed her eyes and brought her face closer to Jihyo's crotch. Without touching her, she inhaled strongly, instantly feeling how her nostrils were filled with the aroma of the woman's vagina. Sniffing from the very source of that wonderful aroma was even better than doing it from used panties, there was no possible comparison. Now Yunjin could feel every delicate note in the woman's scent, as if she were sniffing an expensive wine before tasting it. And that was exactly what she wanted to do, Yunjin wanted to test if the taste of that perfect vagina was also much better from the source.

The mere thought of being able to lick Jihyo's fluids directly from the woman was causing her mouth to water. She was so close that it would be a sin, even greater than what she was already doing, not to get to taste her mother's sweet nectar. If after all she had already gotten into trouble. What mattered one more? That's how, feeling that she had nothing more to lose, Yunjin stuck out her tongue and gave Jihyo's vagina a slow and surprising lick.

The redhead slid her tongue along her mother's slit, causing the latter to jump in surprise, but she remained standing firmly in front of her daughter. “You couldn't just stay with the aroma, you also had to taste, right?” Then Jihyo stroked Yunjin's hair with the same hand that was still stained with cum, causing the white fluid to stick to her daughter's hair, and gently pressed the redhead's head closer to her crotch.

Yunjin understood this action as an invitation to continue testing, so new licks invaded the woman's slit. Jihyo's glorious nectar quickly began to gush out and invade the redhead's senses. Now the flavor and aroma were more intense than before, Yunjin felt the fluids slide over her tongue as she continued licking again and again. Slowly but steadily,sorting out her mother's petals with each new movement of her warm muscle.

Soon this was not enough for Yunjin, and noticing that Jihyo continued stroking her hair and pressing her head, the redhead sealed her lips in a chaste kiss on her mother's vulva. She then opened her mouth and prepared to eat Jihyo's vagina. Her lips danced along with Jihyo's petals in a perverted kiss that strayed from all conventional ways of relating between a mother and her daughter. But that was what made it so precious to Yunjin, the fact that this act was highly prohibited gave the redhead more pleasure. It was as if knowing that the act she was carrying out will add an extra flavor to Jihyo's fluids, as if that whole twisted situation did nothing but make Yunjin more and more addicted to a nectar that should be totally forbidden to her.

But yet here it was. In the cold laundry room, kneeling over a pair of panties soaked in her own cum, and with her face buried in her mother's crotch while she practically devoured her vagina. And although Yunjin couldn't see it, Jihyo had her eyes closed and her mouth open in a moan that never came out of her, showing that she was also enjoying that twisted situation. Of course, that was more than evident if you took into account how much she had gotten wet, since she was practically soaked because of her daughter. At this point the woman's sweet and delicate nectar was dripping down Yunjin's chin, combined with the young woman's own saliva.

Because when you devour like Yunjin was doing right now, you don't get to worry about manners. There's no concern for decor or niceties, Yunjin was simply doing her best to satisfy this newfound hunger for her mother's fluids. That's how she slid her hands down the woman's powerful thighs, until she brought them to her plump ass. Where she held on to both buttocks as if her life depended on it, as if she felt that Jihyo was going to slip away at any moment, thus putting an end to this twisted situation. But the truth was that the woman was frankly not thinking about that right now.

As had already become clear, Jihyo was also enjoying it and right now she had her fingers intertwined with Yunjin's hair while holding the redhead's head firmly. She also didn't want her daughter to go anywhere, she wanted her to stay right there and continue doing as good a job as she had been doing. She also knew that this wasn't right, that she was taking their relationship into territory where it was never supposed to be, but it felt so good that pleasure was clouding her mind right now. The fact that Yunjin showed a hunger for her that not even her husband had had pushed her out of her mind.

At first Jihyo had only thought about giving Yunjin a reprimand. It's true that she made her kneel and smell her crotch, but that was to give the perverted young woman a lesson. Maybe she had gone too far with the punishment, since Jihyo was no one to admonish the young girl for doing perverted things. Even more so when that same afternoon she had practically given her permission to masturbate anywhere in the house. Although Yunjin was no longer a teenager, she was still at that age where it was easy to get carried away by hormones, so it was normal for her to have those impulses. Added to all that, just that same morning the redhead had found Jihyo fucking herself with a vibrator, being so lost in her pleasure that she didn't hear her arrive. It was curious how the situation had reversed hours later.

For all that, Jihyo didn't believe that Yunjin had to be punished severely. So letting her directly smell her vagina just once, and then banning her from doing so for life was torture enough in the woman's eyes. The problem was that Jihyo's libido was through the roof due to the pregnancy and the stress caused by work, so she was in need of a real touch. And it was precisely that need that made her bow before Yunjin's tongue. Jihyo was so needy that masturbating no longer fully satisfied her, so the gentle touch of Yunjin's tongue sent her tumbling off a cliff she had never expected to be on.

Right now her daughter's skillful tongue was exploring the deepest confines of Jihyo's vagina, in a way that had not been explored for longer than she wanted. The muscle gathered as much nectar as possible and then brought it to Yunjin's mouth to feed the needy young woman, only causing her appetite to increase with each new lick.

The aroma, the taste, the way Jihyo's pubic hair caressed her face, and the way her firm buttocks melted in the young woman's hands were driving Yunjin crazy. Making her devour her mother's vulva with fervent hunger. It was perhaps the most passionate and needy kiss that she had given in her life, and also by far the most perverted and exciting. Yunjin's cock was throbbing with pain because it wasn't being attended to, but right now the redhead's hands were glued to her mother's glorious ass and she had no intention of getting her out of there.

That is until abandoning to her lowest instincts, Yunjin accidentally grazed the woman's delicate clitoris with her teeth. Which caused Jihyo to pull her away from her crotch and look directly at her. Yunjin looked back at her with pleading eyes because she thought that everything had come to this point, that her mother had reconsidered and had come to her senses. But again she was wrong.

"Dear. “I know you are desperate, but you have to be gentle with your mother.” Jihyo caressed her face lovingly before holding her head again. “If you promise to behave, I will let you continue eating.”

“I'm sorry mother, it won't happen again.” Yunjin didn't understand why she had called her mother in a situation like this, but that seemed to intensify the strange relationship they were having right now.

"Good girl. Now keep eating. I'm very near." Jihyo pressed Yunjin's face against her crotch again, but this time instead of just keeping her close to her, the woman decided it was time to go for more, so she started moving her hips, practically fucking her daughter's face.

Jihyo rubbed her crotch, putting special emphasis on letting Yunjin continue using that tongue that had turned out to be so skillful. From the noises the woman had occasionally heard coming from her daughter's room, Yunjin had had quite a bit of practice with Chaewon. Which right now Jihyo thanked greatly for all the pleasure she was receiving.

The older woman had her toes curled in anticipation of the orgasm that was getting closer and closer. She was so close to finally climaxing that she felt almost like she was rising. Earlier that day Yunjin had ruined her orgasm by barging into her room, and she hadn't been able to masturbate anymore after that, so she had been in a weird mood all day. She had been rubbing her thighs together to get some friction, and had even sneakily rubbed her vagina in a pathetic attempt to receive some pleasure. Which had made her wet the panties that Yunjin had been smelling, so it seemed fair that now it was precisely her daughter who led her to the much-precious orgasm. A climax that didn't take long to arrive.

Yunjin had put so much effort into practically devouring her that all her work quickly paid off, pushing Jihyo into the release she had long awaited. Jihyo stood still as she came, releasing a thick stream of his fluids onto Yunjin's face, who received the liquid with her mouth open, trying to swallow as much of that precious nectar as possible.

"Good girl." Jihyo said between small gasps, while the electric sensations still ran through her body, the product of that precious sexual climax. She stood there for a moment, stroking her daughter's hair and scratching the back of her neck as a sign of gratitude. As if more than a good girl, it was an obedient puppy.

Right now the only evidence that Jihyo had had an orgasm seconds ago was her somewhat labored breathing, and that she had to move back to find support because her legs were shaking. The woman leaned her weight against the wall trying to regain her composure, while her mind was still somewhat clouded by pleasure. Yunjin, meanwhile, remained on her knees, still savoring the feast she had just devoured, not really understanding if she had permission to stand up or not.

The only thing certain right now was that both women were avoiding eye contact. Furthermore, a strange silence had taken over the room, which until a few moments ago had been filled with the wet sounds that Yunjin made when performing oral sex on her mother. Neither of them knew what to say, or if it was wise to say anything in that situation. They were both regaining their common sense from the clutches of lust, so they were beginning to understand what they had just done. Yunjin had performed oral sex on her stepmother, her father's wife, the woman she now called her mother.

Both of their cheeks were red with embarrassment, no longer from arousal, and a sense of guilt was spreading through them like a wildfire. Jihyo had cheated on her husband with her own daughter, someone much younger than her and whom she was supposed to take care of. Not letting her perform oral sex to the point of filling her face with her fluids.

But despite all the negative implications, they both knew deep down that they had enjoyed it. How else they could explain Jihyo's orgasm, or why Yunjin's penis was still hard? Oh, the pleasure they had felt had been very real, and they both knew it had been the best sexual encounter they had had in weeks.

Jihyo was the first to decide to act, mostly driven by the fact that she was the responsible adult here. So she cleared her throat before bending down to pick up her underwear and pajama shorts, but she made no attempt to put them on, it was unnecessary to try to cover herself. Yunjin had seen her private parts twice that day, and one of them had been from very, very, close.

“Yunjin… Don't forget to finish putting the clothes in the washing machine and turn it on.” Apparently Jihyo had decided for now to pretend that nothing had happened, which unnerved Yunjin a little. But before she could reply the woman spoke again. “You should take a shower, your face and hair are stained.” And before Yunjin could answer that the woman turned and walked away, leaving the redhead alone in the laundry room. Still on her knees over the panties she had soiled with her own semen. Still with her penis out in an erection that was slowly declining, and with her head and heart very confused.

[hangmanbrainrot]

more than this

a/n: HI. Me again! After talking with @rosiahills22, I simply HAD to give this idea a whirl. I hope y’all enjoy! Reader’s callsign is Van Gogh (to be explained) and I don’t use Y/N. :) special thanks to @bradshawsbitch​ for the encouragement. :’)

warnings: so much mutual pining, dash of angst toward the end. Generally, all my posts are 18+ because I don’t want minors interacting with my page! Probably naval inaccuracies.

word count: 3975

summary: You and Jake have been best friends for years now… Why mess with a good thing?

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader — callsign: Van Gogh

“Vee, you aren’t seriously wearing that to Family Day.”

You glanced down at your striped sleep pants and faded Navy t-shirt, then whirled around to look up at the oh so familiar source of the question. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, in the flesh. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and black leather-banded watch on his wrist. His signature toothpick was missing from its usual post between his lips. 

“You clean up nice,” you retorted, ignoring his initial remark. “And I thought we agreed, no call signs today.”

You ‘tsk’ed at him and turned back toward your laundry basket, then bending to pick it up and hold it at your hip. 

“You have one of the coolest callsigns, besides mine, of course. What’s wrong with Van Gogh?”

“I got it because I dropped my books and everyone saw all the doodles in the margins of my notes. And it doesn’t even make sense, because Van Gogh was a painter. At least yours has a cool story, I mean—”

He said your name, low and sweet, to cut you off. The two of you weren’t about to rehash that story again. 

“Better.” This earned you a smile. “I told you, I’m not going this year. I’m just gonna hang out here, take advantage of the empty lounge, and chill.” 

“And I told you, my mother demanded to see you. In fact, I’d dare say she’s more excited to see you than she is to see me.”

“Can you blame Mrs. Seresin for having taste?” you replied easily, the teasing lilt to your voice unmistakable as you flashed Jake a megawatt smile. 

“I’m absolutely telling on you, when I see her. ‘Mrs. Seresin’ instead of Sandy, as requested.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you shot back, mock horror covering your features.

“Can, could, and would. Get dressed, Vee. Families will be here before you know it!”

The way that Jake departed after speaking let you know it wasn’t up for debate.

———————————————————————————————————

You heard Jamie and Courtney before you saw them, their familiar, slightly shrill voices carrying over the crowd of people all waiting for their own aviator to make an appearance. Jake’s older and younger sisters had always treated you like the additional sibling they’d never had, but on a day like today, it made your heart ache. You knew, of course, not everyone was lucky enough to find a kind family to adopt them the way the Seresins had adopted you. Even Robert Seresin himself — gruff as he was, he had a you-sized soft spot, much like his son. Though good luck getting either of the Seresin men to admit it. 

You smiled as you spun on your heel, ready to retreat. Content to revel in the knowledge that you were loved, but too heavy-hearted to witness it today. You’d beat Jake here, somehow, so maybe you could slip out without his notice, either. Come up with some feeble story about suddenly coming down with a migraine, and nurse your ache alone, with your mounds of freshly laundered clothing, once you were sure he and his family had departed for the day.

But instead of proceeding forward, you collided with navy cotton and ginger and leather and… Jake. Had he always smelled this good?

“Hi, I was just,” you pushed out, before being interrupted. Why were you so nervous, all of a sudden? It was just Jake. 

“Trying to ditch me. Darlin’, my feelings are hurt.” The tips of your ears burned red with embarrassment, even as your stomach did backflips over the way his accent thickened on the word ‘darlin’.’ 

“Sorry, Jake.” You didn’t even have the wherewithal to hide the giggle leaking into your words. But you were smart enough to play it off. “I was just going to get a jacket.”

“Vee, it’s July.”

“Yes, I do have a calendar and I can read!” Your eye roll was practically involuntary. “I just get cold sometimes in the AC.”

A lopsided grin slid onto his features while he aimed a pointer finger at himself. “Human furnace. Let’s go!”

Before you could protest, he was slinging an arm around your shoulders and all but crushing you into his side. “I think this outfit is much more appropriate for a trip off base.” It sounded like he was testing the compliment. And, truthfully, you liked this particular combination of white cap-sleeve blouse and jeans quite a bit yourself, too. But it was nice of him to notice. Then again, you couldn’t recall a time when Jake hadn’t noticed you, not since the beginning of your friendship. He was just always so checked in with you. Always so present. If you squinted, you could call it attentiveness. 

“Jacob Michael Seresin, it is rude to keep your mother waiting! And where is — there she is, there’s my girl.” 

Before either of you could inhale, a head of blond hair identical to Jake’s came bounding toward you, Sandra Seresin bundling you up in her arms like she hadn’t seen you in years, rather than the months it had been since the last time she had seen you via FaceTime.

You hugged Sandy a little tighter, as if you were afraid you would disappear if you let go. If it weren't for this woman and her family, holding onto you — in more ways than one — you often feared no one would remember you at all. No one to be on the receiving end of a phone call or a folded flag, if you didn't make it home one day. You would just… cease to exist. Quietly. Perhaps that was fitting, considering that was exactly how you lived your life.

You were your parents' only child, and they were gone. Well, your father was, anyway. Your mother never recovered after his sudden death, and had taken to self-medicating to ease the pain of his loss. Which, sure, you got, once you were old enough, but you were still small and new to the world, when the light that was your father went out. No one is ready to lose a parent they're close to, but certainly not when they're five. And it felt like you'd lost her, too, by the time you were 10. Moved out by the time you were 16. So, she wasn't gone, but there was no relationship to be had. You knew, of course, that if something did happen to you, they'd find her. But who would she be mourning? You had lived a whole life she knew nothing about; you had become an entirely new person. Someone she knew nothing about, but that the Seresins knew like the backs of their hands. Courtney was filling your hands with your favorite candy on the walk to the parking lot, and Jamie's kids were telling you about how they were doing in school. 

Maybe someone, maybe a few someones would remember you. And fondly, you hoped.

At the height of the day, the sun was relentless, but as you walked beside Jake in the parking lot, you couldn't help noticing it made his hair the perfect shade of blond, and rendered his eyes the color of sea-glass.

"You know they just missed you," he chirped, misreading your expression and mistaking your melancholy for annoyance.

"No, no," you said softly. "It's nice to be missed. I just.."

"Today is hard," he finished your sentence matter-of-factly, and without any sort of air of pity. You heard, in its place, respect. He had no idea how you felt, but he'd always left space in your friendship for you to feel it. And, in true Jake fashion, he'd tried to fix it, by introducing you to his family, all those years ago, now. You'd only known each other a few months, then. But he didn't want you to be alone. And, the truth was, you hadn't been. Not since the moment you met him. All you ever felt when you were with Jake was ease. Comfort. 

Your hand found Jake’s without thinking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, Jake. And I will not hesitate to kick your ass if you tell anyone how soft I got.”

You glanced over at Jake just in time to watch an unreadable emotion cloud his expression. Before you had time to think it over, he was squeezing your hand. “I’ll always keep all your secrets, Vee. Including that you prefer green Jolly Ranchers, even though blue are clearly superior.” 

—————

The Seresins took you and Jake to a small diner off base, and it was today that you learned it was Jake’s favorite. You all sat in a booth toward the back, bunched up together in the cushioned semi-circle bench. Jake’s warm thigh brushed against yours, and you’d be lying if you didn’t notice the jolt that went through you, every time those thick cords of muscle pressed against you when he laughed, or when he reached forward to grasp one of the menus wedged between the matching salt and pepper shakers on the table. 

With an arm lazily draped on the booth behind you, fingers loosely grazing your shoulder every so soften, Jake opened a menu for you to share. 

“Well, what do you think, darlin’?”

“How did I not know this was your favorite place?” You asked, ignoring the question he was obviously asking you.

But he indulged you. “This was the first year I actually convinced you to come with us.”

“Convinced? I felt slightly bullied, Seresin.” You grinned, in spite of yourself. 

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a little time with you, darlin’.” He sounded almost coy. You glanced up at him, at the same time he looked over at you, and found that ‘butterflies’ were an understatement for what that look was currently doing to your insides. It felt like a cross between adoration and desire, but what was even wilder was that Jake’s expression seemed to mirror your own — which was absurd because it was Jake. Jake, who always made sure you never got left behind; Jake, who sometimes pulled his punches with you when he was ragging on you over the comms. Yeah, that Jake, your Jake was looking at you like… that?

But then you heard Jake’s dad clear his throat from across the table and you and Jake glanced up like you’d been caught doing something far less innocuous. Your mind worked overtime trying to decipher what just happened here but the moment flickered and burnt out before you, and the conversation moved on like a film unpaused.

Despite the fact that his entire family was here, it felt like Jake couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you for a moment, not that you were complaining. And it was something his mother noticed, too.

“So, between the two of you, who do you think is the better pilot?” Courtney teased, a mischievous glint visible in the hazel of her irises. 

But then Jake said your name at the same time you said his, causing you both to turn to each other in surprise, mouths agape. 

“Stop being modest,” he accused, almost immediately. Part of you wanted to make special note of this moment, record it somehow. So that the next time Jake decided to have a pissing contest with some other pilot, you could chime in and remind him it didn’t matter, since he thought you were the best anyway. You went to shove at his chest, but your hand — and your heart — stuttered with you made contact. He was so solid. Just firm muscle and warm skin. When your gaze dared drift upward, he was blushing. Your comment, voicing the observation, would die on your lips, as your server returned to the table with a tray full of milkshakes. Leave it to Jamie to secure dessert when you weren’t looking.

—————

When the meal had run its course and everyone was preparing for the trip back to base, you couldn’t help but hang back a little bit, just to take it all in. Jake was indulging Courtney in one of those rare, long bear hugs, while Jamie and his mother ran off to the bathroom, and his dad made small talk with another patron seated at the diner’s counter. In spite of your resistance, this family had yanked you, kicking and screaming, into their lives. Whether you’d found them or they’d found you didn’t matter, what mattered was the moment unfolding before you. You wished you could wrap it around you and let it warm you from the inside out. 

You weren’t sure when Jake had released Courtney to return to your side, or when the rest of his family had filtered out the diner’s front doors, so you jumped when you heard his voice from beside you. 

“You okay, sugar?” He was close enough that you could smell the tang of his cologne — softer than before, but still present — and feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. You practically ached with the desire to move, to be touching him in some way, and the ferocious way this feeling roared to life within you startled you. Instead of giving in to that yearning to touch, you spun around and put some distance between you, eyes trained on him. You were desperate to find out what had changed, but when you gazed into Jake’s eyes. You just saw him, you just felt him. Nothing else had changed. But maybe nothing had needed to. High stakes situations meant you were constantly filtering out your emotions: keep, alter, discard; keep, alter, discard. You rifled through feelings often before you took a breath. It felt silly to question whether or not you’d simply overlooked or ignored your feelings for your best friend all along, but what else could be true? It wasn’t the way you felt about him that was new; no, it was the sudden impulse to do something about it that felt like an unscratchable itch.

You took a nearly imperceptible step closer, and Jake mirrored your actions. He said your name softly, cautiously. 

But then, from behind: “Hey, is everybody else outside?” 

Jamie’s voice was like cold water to the face. Still, you nodded, regaining the distance between yourself and Jake. You blinked a few times, as if you were hitting some sort of invisible reset button in your mind.

Keep, alter, discard.

You were silent, the entire ride back to base. You went through the motions of ‘see-you-next-time’’s and ‘take-care’’s, and stood in the parking lot until Robert’s truck was completely out of view.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled, without looking up at Jake, then spinning on your heels to head back inside.  There was still enough of the day that you could get your laundry done if you headed straight in and got to work, you just had to —

Jake’s hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your skin was tingling where his fingers were wrapped around you. Jaw set, you clenched, mouth forming a straight line. You were back on base now; you were back to being naval aviators. There wasn’t any room for these silly little schoolgirl feelings Jake inspired in you. You didn’t get to twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes and fall head over heels for your best friend. Instead, you got to linger somewhere painfully between ‘duty bound’ and ‘already in over your head.’

“What is it, Jake?” You hadn’t yet turned to face him, and that was an offense he didn’t take lightly to; though instead of waiting for you to rectify the situation, he does so himself. It was so very like him. 

“Look at me, please.” The raw edge to his voice startled you into compliance. 

You turned and regretted it immediately.

“What did I do?” His eyes were so soft, so entirely unguarded. A fear you didn’t recognize was plain on his face. “How can I fix it?”

“It’s nothing, Jake.”

But he was not convinced by your sighed syllables. “That’s bullshit.” Even the way he spoke was gentle, like he was afraid you’d evaporate from the sheer force of his words if he spoke too loudly.

“Something changed, after lunch, something… Something happened,” he continued. “Did Jamie say something to you? Court?” 

A short burst of laughter punched out of you, but it sounded colder than you imagined, and Jake stepped back like you’d slapped him. Fear was replaced by irritation. You recognized that particular crease in his brow, but you resolved that this was good. Maybe he needed to hate you a little, so you could get over whatever was most definitely not happening here.

“What?” You laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced than before. “Did you expect me to go all weak-kneed because you saved me, Jake? Showed me what a real family was like? Would you like me to grovel with gratitude now, or can I save that for later?”

And you regretted the words the moment you said them, instantly spiraling. It was vicious and careless, but a low enough blow that it would end things — it would fix things, once and for all. But then that feeling from earlier returned, that burning at the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. You understood now that what you were feeling was loss; you were preparing for the loss of your best friend. Prematurely, perhaps, but if you knew Jake at all, you knew it wasn’t that premature. He let the others think he was a jerk and a blowhard but, to you, he admitted to the real softness of his heart. The purity of it. It was you he sat beside, shaking with worry after Phoenix and Bob went down after a bird strike. You, he called when his niece got a case of the flu so bad she was hospitalized and he couldn’t see her. You, he pleaded with for help when he’d mouthed off too much in class and was pretty sure everyone hated him now. You knew everything he did was so startlingly fucking earnest. To question how genuine he was, to question his integrity, was the kind of wound that could only be delivered intimately. And you had done it so very well. A real stab and twist.

You mumbled an apology, just desperate to escape Jake and that angry, but somehow still pleading look in his eyes. It was when your back was turned that Jake finally spoke.

“God, I have to be so fucking stupid.” 

“Jake, don’t,” you said, stilled but not turning back around. Your pride wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“No, I must be. I must be a complete fucking idiot to have misread all the signs that you… That we want the same thing.”

You didn’t dare speak at first; you couldn’t. And then, when you did, the ragged nature of your breathing startled even you. “And what is it that you think we both want?”

“More than this, Vee!” He sounded exasperated, and you didn’t need to face him to know that Jake had run a frustrated hand through his hair. “More than tiptoeing around each other and how we feel about each other, and trying to pretend like, like…” 

“Trying to pretend like what?” The words ripped out of you like a sob and you couldn’t will yourself to be still anymore. Your body angled toward his like you were fucking magnetized. 

“Trying to pretend like I am not in love with you.” 

The words landed like lead around you, and you had to bite back a sob. When that wasn’t enough to muffle the sound, you slapped a palm to your mouth. 

He had done it. He had taken that big thing, wrestled it into submission, and then laid it bare in front of you. But, more than that, he’d laid himself bare in front of you. He was more naked now than he’d ever been in any locker room. This was Jake at his most honest.

And you could feel yourself teetering so dangerously on the edge of giving in. Your breaths heaved in and out of you with great effort. 

What if you ruined this? What if he left you? What if, what if, what if…

God, but what if you didn’t? What if, for once, something just fucking worked out, and someone just stayed? If there was anyone in your life who was capable of staying, wouldn’t it be Jake? Who else could it be? 

Your resolve was so thin, so fragile; when you finally spoke, it was: “Jake, I’m scared.” 

He took a step toward you. He could’ve closed the gap between your bodies in a singular stride, but he was giving you an out. One last chance to walk away. You remained anchored to your spot on the pavement. When he took the final step toward you, he had a palm raised to frame your face — he was shaking, but he rested his forehead against yours, too. And that was Jake, in a nutshell. Scared, but pushing forward. It was one of the things you admired, one of the things you loved most about him. 

“Don’t be scared, Vee.” The plea was soft, softer than a prayer. “Don’t be scared. Whatever there is to figure out, we’ll figure it out together. We can make this work.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out together, too.” 

Even as your every survival instinct was telling you not to, even as all you wanted to do was run, you leaned in. The kiss was a little clumsy — he hadn’t been ready, you were too nervous. But then your hand found purchase against his chest, and one of his at your hip. And then you were practically tugging each other closer; your lips fitting together more seamlessly. How had you held out this long? How had you deprived yourself of this? 

Jake retracted, eyes wild and bright when he looked at you. As his lips sloped into a grin, you knew something was coming. 

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you heard me, but…”

“Oh, you mean your little love confession?” you reveled in the flush that crept up his neck and the laugh that fled your now kiss-swollen lips as a result.

Though realization seemed to darken his expression, and his eyes left yours. The loss was one you felt immediately. 

“What?”

Jake must have felt the tension begin to seep into your body, because his thumb began to press slow, soothing circles against your hip. 

“Vee, I know you don’t need me to save you. You have never needed to be saved by anyone.” His brow furrowed a moment, and the hand still cradling your face dropped to meet the other at your hips. “But if you want to be… If you want someone else to help you carry all that weight on your shoulders. Well, that would be okay, too, alright?”

You weren’t certain, but when Jake met your gaze once again, you were almost positive there were tears welling in his eyes. The sight of his vulnerability rendered you speechless, so you nodded mutely, then managed a small ‘okay.’ It was instinctive for you to rest your forehead against Jake’s chest and allow his arms to envelope you in his embrace. More so than ever before.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing there when you finally spoke up again. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Instead, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his arms around you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought… this wouldn’t be so bad. Whether it was 20 minutes or 20 years, you wanted as much of Jake as he was willing and able to give. 

Keep, alter, discard? You were definitely keeping this feeling.

[harry-on-broadway]

My Valentine

Word Count: 4.6K || Rating: M

A/N: This is technically a continuation of My Rock Star but you don’t have to have read that to enjoy this one. I’m hoping this has something for everyone in it. Would love to hear your feedback! 

*** Being with Harry came with a laundry list of perks.

Access to an incredible closet, the chance to travel the world whenever you wanted, sex with an unbelievably attractive man.

But there were also some downsides.

Like being his caretaker when he celebrated a little too hard.

As usual, you’d taken your time getting ready, knowing you wouldn’t see him until the after party, and you could already tell he’d be in rare form based on the antics you’d seen on the telecast. You were pretty confident he’d already had a drink or two by the time he walked up to the stage to receive his first award, just by how loose he was. You knew the alcohol hadn’t stopped flowing when he started throwing himself at anyone who was near. And you were surprised he was still standing when Tom had to gently guide him across the stage after the last award of the evening.

When you arrived at the restaurant that was hosting the first after party, you had prepared yourself to be attacked by Harry, but were surprised to come across Gemma instead.

“Do you have eyes on him?” you asked.

“Yeah, he’s over there.” She gestured to a table in the back where Harry had one arm around Jeffrey and was using his other hand to gesture animatedly as he told a story. “I thought he had sobered up a little while he was doing interviews after but that apparently isn’t the case,” she added as Harry wobbled, nearly losing his footing until Jeffrey caught him. “Looks like I got the easy shift tonight. I don’t envy your evening.”

“Oh dear,” you said under your breath. “None for me,” you said, to the waiter who asked for your drink order. One of you had to have a level head.

“There’s my girlfriend,” Harry yelled, causing Jeff to cover his ears.

“Here I am!” You walked over to him and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“He’s all yours,” Jeff laughed, patting you on the back as Harry clung onto you, whispering in your ear.

“...and then he gave me the award and we hugged again and then – “

“H, baby, why don’t we sit down,” you suggested, unsure of your ability to support his entire body weight for much longer.

“Oh, yeah.” He righted himself and found a seat at the table, walking on unsteady legs with you close behind.

The booth you found yourselves sitting in was cozy, especially as Tyler, Tom, and Jenny, slid in next to you. Harry, not wantign to be left out, all but laid on top of you trying to not only steal a cuddle, but insert himself into the conversation that was happening to your right. You exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Gemma as you gently pushed Harry back to his seat. She laughed over the rim of her glass and rolled her eyes, quite familiar with her brother’s antics.

“Maybe we can sneak away and have another round of celebrations like we did last week?” Harry whispered to you, his breath hot against your ear as the waiter deposited entrees in front of everyone. “Make you scream my name.”

“As enticing as that offer sounds, I’m going to pass,” you said quietly, twirling pasta around your fork.

Harry pouted. “Why not?”

“Eat,” you told Harry, pointing at the plate of fettucini in front of him. “You need to get something in your stomach. Drink some water too,” you prodded, pushing his glass closer to him. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“I feel fiiiiinnnneee,” Harry retorted, stretching out the last word.

“I’ve got to be honest with you, those do not sound like the words of someone who is fine.”

“What does that mean?” He stared at you blankly.

“Babe, just eat.”

Harry finally relented, tucking into his meal, though he kept his arm around you the entire time. As annoying and petulant as he could be when he was drunk, you had to admit his clinginess was endearing, even if meant many promises he couldn’t deliver on.

The pasta sobered him up enough to rally for the next stop on the party tour, and you dutifully followed him into the back seat of the car waiting outside. He was chatty and exuberant, laughing with Tom and Jenny who were sharing the vehicle with you, ice cubes clinking in his glass of neat tequila. At the club, he made his way around the room, altenrating between dancing with some friends and chatting with others.

You kept to the outskirts of the room, introducing yourself to the few unfamiliar faces you spotted while reconnecting with members of Harry’s team you hadn’t seen recently. All the while you kept your eyes on him, ready to intervene when he’d finally had enough. The afterparties were fun, no question about it, but standing there, sipping your own non-alcoholic beverage, you felt a nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t place, and as Harry found his way back to you, pulling you to the dance floor, you did your best to push it out of your mind.

By 4am, most people had started to head out and you set off in search of Harry, finding him zoned out on a couch, leaning against Jeff, who looked equally out of it.

“H, I think it’s time to head out,” you said, reaching for his hands.

He grinned lazily. “Yeah it is.” He turned to Jeff. “We’re going to –”

“OK, I don’t think we need to talk about that,” you said, heading off any embarrassing comment he was about to make. “The car’s out front babe.” You tried to pull him up, but he was dead weight, far to heavy for you to drag. “I need you to stand up, baby.” After a little more prompting, Harry stood, swaying with each step he took. Seeing how unsteady he was, you felt less confident in your ability to get him home without incident.

“Would you like some help?” A member of Harry’s security team was in front of you, looking from you to the drunken man at your side.

“That would actually be great,” you said, sighing in relief.

“Make sure the car’s out front and I’ll get him there.”

You nodded and ran off, and ten minutes later you and Harry were alone in the backseat, making your way home.

“Could make you feel really good right now,” Harry slurred.

“I’m know you could, but we just need to get you in bed.”

Harry smirked, clearly misunderstanding the meaning of your words. “I seeeeeee,” he giggled.

When you arrived home, you nudged him up the stairs, keeping him upright and facing forward as he slowly planted one foot in front of the other, swaying back and forth as he climbed higher.

“I think I’m ready for bed,” he announced, pulling off his jacket and dropping it in the all. He stared at it, an intense look of concentration on his face as if he couldn’t figure out how it gotten there. “Is that my jacket?”

“It is. We’re getting ready for bed and we’re going to go in here,” you said, steering him towards the bedroom. “Right in here.”

You darted back into the hall to pick up his discarded jacket and when you returned, you found him face down on the bed. “Fuck,” you said under your breath. He couldn’t make this easy for you. You rolled him over, unbucking his pants and pulling them down his leg. You untangled his necklaces, placing them on his bedside table before dragging him up the bed and tucking him under the covers.

After making sure he was asleep, you got yourself ready for bed, changing into your pajamas, before brushing your teeth and washing your face and climbing into bed next to him.

Lying in bed beside him, watching his chest rise and fall slowly, you felt a wave of affection wash over you. He was yours. This silly, drunk, annoying man was yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way. A snore escaped from his mouth and you smiled. You were going to miss him over the next couple of months. You reached up to brush his hair off his forehead, wrapping his curl around your finger as that bittersweet feeling returned. .

You’d gotten lucky through the summer and fall, with your remote job affording you the opportunity to travel with him, but you’d be needed in office when he was in Australia and Asia. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit worried about the distance, something you’d discussed with Harry, and the two of you had planned to spend these last couple of days focused on each other. But with the Grammys and now the Brits, time for just you two had been scarce. And tomorrow – or rather today – would be a waste  with Harry sure to have the hangover of the century. But you’d take moments like this as long as they were with him.

You wiggled down under the comforter, momentarily freezing as Harry stirred. Once he’d settled, sleeping on his other side, you slid closer to him, hooking your leg over his, wrapping your arm around his chest, and holding him as close as you could.

***

You woke up much sooner than you would have liked, but your empty stomach was more powerful than your need to sleep. Harry was still out cold next to you, and after watching him sleep for a couple more moments, you slid out from under the covers and padded down to the kitchen.

You put on some coffee for yourself, confident that Harry wouldn’t be up for several hours, and found the ingredients for an omelet in the fridge. When you’d finished eating and cleaning up, you sat at the table, coffee in hand, plotting your next move. You definitely had things to do. You needed to do laundry and start packing for your flight in a couple of days, and you should probably figure out what you all were going to do for dinner, but you knew deep down that the only thing you wanted to do right now was be with Harry – even if he was still passed out, completely unaware of your presence. So you poured yourself a second cup of coffee, grabbed your laptop and a book, and made your way back upstairs.

You gingerly peeled back the covers on your side of the bed, careful not to disturb him, and got comfortable. You popped your AirPods in and waited for them to connect before pressing play on an episode of Real Housewives on your laptop.

After 4 episodes and 50 pages in your book, you heard an extremely loud snore come from Harry, a snore so loud that he jolted himself awake. He squinted up at you, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” you said, moving your laptop off of your legs.

“Stop shaking the bed,” he mumbled.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Someone’s in a good mood this afternoon,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s not my fault my head is killing me.” Harry rolled onto his back, flinching as he moved the bed again. “Fuck.”

“Here, take these.” You handed him a couple of Tylenol and a bottle of water watching as he slowly sat up and took the pills, nearly downing the entire bottle of water in one gulp. “Do you want some more?”

“No.” He stared down at the comforter, still adjusting to the afternoon light drifting in from the curtains. “What time is it?”

You looked at your phone. “A little after three.”

“Shit. What time did we leave last night?”

“A little after four.”

“Fuck.”

“I know. So much for just one drink.” He attempted to roll his eyes, but thought twice, cringing at the movement. “You okay?” you asked. As much as you’d love to continue teasing him you could tell he was hurting.

“Yeah, I just need to take it slow.”

“You should probably eat something. What do you want?”

“No clue.”

You sighed, knowing that hungover Harry was going to be worse than drunk Harry. “Why don’t you think about it and I’ll get you some more water.”

He grunted affirmatively and you eased off the bed. In the kitchen, you set about filling up his water bottle and making him some tea. You grabbed a banana as well, before scooping up the beverages, balancing them precariously as you made your way back upstairs.

The lights had been turned on in your absence, albeit on the dimmest setting, and he’d turned on the TV as well, some sports game playing at a low volume. Harry was leaning against the headboard, wrapped in a hoodie. He perked up when he saw you in the doorway.

“Feeling better?” you asked, placing the beverages and fruit on his nightstand.

He nodded. “A little.”

“That’s good.” You kissed his hair. He still smelled like the club from last night. “Maybe you should rinse off later?”

He laughed lightly. “Trying to tell me something.”

“It might make you feel better.”

“No, you just think I stink,” he said, taking a bite of the banana.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I was thinking I could fix us some pasta in a little bit. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“Pasta sounds good.” You pressed another kiss to his head and climbed into bed next to him.  He threw his arm around your shoulders, a practiced and comfortable gesture, and you curled up against his side. “How bad was I last night?” he asked.

“How much do you remember?”

“Not a lot after the restaurant.”

“Well, you had a couple of drinks…”

“Feels like more than a couple…” he groaned

“I rounded down. You did some dancing, introduced yourself to everyone – and I mean everyone – in the room, gave a lot of hugs…”

“Did I kiss anyone else?”

“You tried to plant a couple on Jeff.”

“Just showing him how much I love him.”

“You also extended the romantic offer of a quickie in the bathroom to me,” you said dryly. “Several times.”  

“Hey! The last time I won something we fucked in the–”

“I remember, but I highly doubt you would have been able to manage that last night Mr. Only-The-One drink.”

Harry pinched your side and you squirmed in his arms. “You can’t judge me for wanting to spend time with my favorite person,” he said.

You threw your arm over his stomach and hugged him tight, closing your eyes, trying to remember everything about this moment. The feel of his hoodie against your fingers, the sound of his heartbeat, the weight of his arm on your shoulders. You wished there was some way to preserve this.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, interrupting your reverie.

“I had breakfast and a snack.”

“Would you want to do the pasta soon? I can rinse off and meet you in the kitchen.”

“Yeah.”

Harry stretched before climbing out of bed and shedding his briefs and hoodie, making a half-hearted attempt to toss them into the hamper. When you heard the water turn on, you headed to the kitchen for the third time that day, pulling pasta, tomatoes, spices, and cheese from various cabinets, waiting for Harry to come down.

You’d started boiling the water when you felt him come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, swaying back and forth. “Smells good,” he said against your hair.

“It’s just pasta,” you said, laughing. “I haven’t even started the good stuff yet.”

“Wasn’t talking about the food. I was talking about you.” He inhaled again. “Need to bottle this up so I can take you with me.” You bit your lip, willing yourself to hold back your emotions and not let them ruin this moment. “Alright.” Harry released you from his grasp. “What can I help with?”

“I was thinking of doing a pink sauce so if you want to start with that.”

“On it.” Harry rolled up his sleeves and got to work chopping onions and grating fresh parmesan, and the kitchen was filled with a savory aroma as he threw them into the pot. With the sauce simmering, Harry opened a bottle of wine, pouring both of you a glass. You raised an eyebrow at the large portion given his current state. “What?” he asked. “Hair of the dog, right?”

When dinner was ready, you all sat at the table, properly recapping the events of the previous night. You laughed at Harry’s recollection of the ceremony which was hazy at best, but seeing the award show through his lens was somehow even better than being there. You cleaned up together and migrated upstairs soon after, brushing teeth and collapsing into bed under the pretense of getting caught up on Love Island. Harry sidled up behind you, his body conforming to yours as you pressed play, and it was just ten minutes later when you heard his snores in your ear. You smiled, reaching for the remote, careful not to disturb him, turning off the TV shortly before sleep overtook you as well.

***

You had a weird feeling in your stomach when you woke up on the morning of the 14th, something you attributed to the fact that you’d be leaving Harry in less than 24 hours. Trying to stave off the anxiety that was quickly brewing, you decided a walk through the city and running errands was the cure. So, with Harry still in bed, you set out on your adventure.

You arrived back at the house later in the afternoon, letting yourself in and heading straight for your bedroom. If you packed everything up now, that would leave the rest of the evening free to spend with Harry without the looming knowledge of more chores on your to-do list.

When you got to the bedroom, you stopped short, unsure of what you were walking into. Candles were placed on every surface within sight, giving the room a romantic glow. Fresh flowers – roses from the looks of them – were placed around the room, which smelled of…vanilla?

“Welcome home,” Harry said. “And Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I thought we said no gifts!” was the first thing you could think to blurt out.

“It’s not a gift. It’s…ambiance,” Harry said. He studied your face, trying to get a read on what you were feeling. “Do you not like it?” he asked, flustered.

“No, I love it. I just feel bad that I didn’t do anything for you.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.” He stepped forward and grabbed your hands, giving them a squeeze. “The last 14 months have been about me. Touring, working on the album, premieres, award shows. And you’ve been beside me every step of the way. Supporting me, loving me. And I did this because, for once, I wanted to do something for you.”

You were speechless. No words could describe what this gesture meant to you. You supported Harry because you loved him, not because you needed grand declarations of love from him. But his insistence on treating you with an equal amount of respect and adoration only reiterated that you’d made the right decision when you first agreed to date him.

“Kiss me,” you managed to get out and Harry happily obliged, scooping you into his arms and kissing you squarely on your lips. His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and quickly found yours. You panted heavily against his mouth, overwhelmed by the onslaught. You felt the kiss throughout your entire body from your lips to the tips of your toes. It was a like a current was running through you, a current that grew stronger as Harry’s arms moved down your body, grabbing your ass and pressing you against his stiff cock. You moaned at the sensation, all to aware of how empty you felt and how badly you wanted him.

“Can we?” you glanced at the bed and Harry nodded. You pushed him backwards until his legs hit the frame and he laid back, taking you with him. He kept kissing you as you settled on top of his thigh, rolling your hips desperately searching for the friction you needed. You felt Harry fumbling with the hem of your shirt and lifted your arms to aid him in pulling it off of you. Your bra was next, then Harry’s shirt, then you were skin to skin.

“You feel so soft,” Harry said, dazedly as he traced your spine. He kissed his way down your collarbone to your sternum before peppering kisses across your cleavage until his lips locked around your nipple. You were still grinding on his thigh and the combination of sensations was almost too much. Harry pulled his lips away with a satisfying pop, and when you felt his teeth scaping against the soft underside of your breast, sucking a kiss that you knew would leave a mark, you cried out as your orgasm overtook you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, hovering over his thigh as you tried to recover. Harry soothed you, stroking your back and hair, and when your breathing returned to normal, you locked eyes with him. “I need you,” you whispered.

Harry nodded, almost as if in a trance, and started to wiggle around underneath of you, pulling down his briefs and shorts and kicking them to the ground as you pulled off your own bottoms. Completely naked, with nothing between you, Harry eased back on the bed, resting his hands on your hips as you lined yourself up with him. Without hesitation, you sank down on his cock. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Your body fit with his in a way you’d never before experienced. It was like he was made for you. You could tell he was already close to spilling over based on the way his jaw was set, and when you gave an experimental bounce to feel how intensely he stretched you, he clenched his jaw even harder.

“I’m ready,” you whispered, and Harry moved his hips, rocking up into you. You threw your head back in satisfaction as he grazed that spot deep inside of you. His grip on your hips tightened, his nails marking you further as you matched his rhythm. After a few thrusts he stopped, hands squeezing you as a signal for you to do the same. Confused, you looked down at him.  

“It’s okay,” he murmumed. “Just wanted to be a little closer. He leaned forward so he was sitting upright, embracing you in his lap, all while driving his cock deeper inside of you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said as he continued to rock into you. “So beautiful, doing so good for me. So good to me all the time. Just want to make you feel good.” He was babbling, so painfully close to his own release but still putting your pleasure before his.

“It fee-feels incredible,” you managed to get out. You were almost there for the second time that night. On this next thrust, you took his face in your hands, kissing him as your orgasm washed over you. Seconds later, you felt him hot and wet inside you. Your fingers were tangled in the damp curls at the base of his neck, and you pulled his head back to look at you.

“Happy Valentine’s, baby,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m yours.”

***

The morning after was the most bittersweet you’d ever experienced. After spending the night wrapped around him, you didn’t want to let him go, but you reluctantly let him get ready for his flight.

“You should probably get ready too,” he said, eyes unwilling to meet yours, as if acknowledging you would accelerate your goodbye.

You pulled on leggings and a hoodie and sat on the edge of the bed. Watching him toss last minute items into his suitcase before zipping it up. “I just don’t want you to go,” you said, voice breaking. You covered your eyes, trying to hide your tears.

He was by your side in an instant. “I don’t want to leave either but it’s going to be over so soon. You’re going to kick ass on this project and I’ll play a couple of shows and things will be back to normal before we know it. And you’ll be coming with me this summer. It’s only a few weeks.” He squeezed your hand definitively. “We’ve got this.”

“I know.” You sniffled. “I just miss you already.”

“And I miss you too.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, I was going to do this later but…” He stood up and walked to his night stand, rifling through the drawer. He pulled out a small, wrapped, box and tossed it to you. You looked at him curiously.

“What’s this?” you asked, shaking the box.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you open it and see?”

You peeled back the corner of the paper, freeing the box. You turned it upright and opened it. Inside was a delicate sliver necklace with a chain so thin you’d have to squint to see it. It was a perfect match to the one Harry had started sporting over the holidays. Tears immediately filled your eyes.

“Just to make sure you don’t forget me.”

“I thought is was only a few weeks,” you chuckled.

“Can’t take any chances.” He sat beside you again, the mattress dipping under his weight. “But I’m serious. I know how hard being with me can be sometimes and I mean it when I say I’ll never take you for granted. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said. “And I’m already counting down the days until I can see you again.”

***

talk to me! 

[berylcups]

La Squadra X Reader: Love Languages HCs

CW: Sex mention, death mention, self esteem issues, masculine provider mentality

Notes: Hey, this one was a doozy! Hopefully my ramblings is understandable! I based this one off of the 7 love languages. the 7 love languages discussed are:

❤️Activity

❤️Appreciation

❤️Emotional

❤️Financial

❤️Intellectual

❤️Physical

❤️Practical

Either way I hope you enjoy! 💜Beryl

source: https://imbetween.org/episode161/

Risotto-🖤

What’s their Love language?: Activity & Practical 

How do they show it?:

Risotto doesn’t get much time to relax but when he does he wants to spend it with you. He’d show you by making an authentic Sicilian dish that you haven’t had before and watch some scary movies afterwards. If you get frightened you can always cling on to him and he’ll wrap his big arms around you to keep you safe!  He’d also be interested in what you’re into. Especially if its something relaxing like painting or sculpting…Maybe even something physical like swimming.  He’d probably be indifferent to videogames. He enjoys watching you play them rather than playing them himself. He prefers story over gameplay, and watching you get frustrated and curse at the tv every time you make a mistake makes him chuckle so he's definitely enjoying himself.

He also likes to show his love through actions. He prefers to take care of the more challenging tasks like doing the oil change on your car, changing your tires, changing the light bulbs from the places you can’t reach, and fixing that leaky pipe. He’ll also take care of some other tasks, instead of you cooking he’ll bring home take out, and make a nice bubble bath for you both to relax in afterwards. If you’re forgetful or have ADHD he’ll remind you to take your medication and write down your daily tasks so you don’t forget anything. He’ll be sure to help you sort out your medication for each day in your pillbox too to help you remember. He has a perfect memory so you’ll never have to worry if you do forget something. He’s always here for you. 🖤

What love language do they like to receive the most?: Practical & Physical 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

He’s always busy with something…what’s a better way to show your love than to take care of him? Make him dinner, run him a bath, do laundry , clean the house, do his paperwork, break up fights between the other guys, and maybe murder on his behalf? Do whatever this exhausted man needs. Just do it. Do it for him. Whatever you take off of his plate he’ll greatly appreciate it! Also you can be assured that every act will be rewarded. He’s very grateful to have you and he's not afraid to express that.

This poor man has never been shown much love so you can bet he’s pretty touch starved. But he’s too aloof to go out of his way to ask for affection so its up to you to give him all the loving he needs. He doesn’t really care if the guys see very small bits of PDA like a quick kiss on the cheek or maybe a pet name or two. He really prefers his affection in private the most though. Take off his hat and brush your fingers through his silver hair and give his head a good scratch, he loves that. Rub his chest and give him lots of kisses, he can’t fight off his blush when you do that! He loves bedtime the most when you’re laying on top of him and he can feel your entire weight on him. It helps soothe him to sleep and puts him at peace even if for a moment in his chaotic life.🖤 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?: 

emotional - Risotto is not a cold hearted person, he just has a hard time processing emotions. When Sorbet and Gelato died he swallowed his grief and tried to move on as if they didn’t exist. He doesn’t have an answer to how he’s feeling right now and how to handle it. He wants to be there for you and to soothe your pain when it comes but he just doesn’t know the best way to comfort you...verbally that is. What he does know though is that he loves you with all his heart 🖤   

Formaggio-🧡

What’s their Love language?: Physical & Appreciation 

How do they show it?:

He��s very handsy when it comes to showing love. It goes beyond hugs and kisses. He loves pinching your cheeks, smacking your ass, squeezing your thighs, and he’s a big groper. 😳 He makes grabby hands and chases you with them laughing like a fucking nutjob. 🙌  

He doesn't care who sees. He lives for the PDA, he loves grossing everyone out and making them jealous that he snagged you and they didn’t. 🤭 

He’s big on the praise and compliments. He won’t give you one minute to doubt yourself because that’s how much he praises you. Did you dye your hair? Get a new piercing? You look hot!  You look a little taller…did you get some new shoes? You look badass! Is that a new drawing you doin’? You’re a good draw-er! He’s always has something nice to say! And don’t forget the pet names he throws on you-. If you didn’t know any better you could almost think he forgot what your name was…but he knows you so well you know that’s not the truth! 🧡

What love language do they like to receive the most?: physical & appreciation 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Give this man some sugar! Hug him, caress him, kiss him, make out with him, spank him, fuc—you know what he wants! 😳 He don’t care if it’s in public or private, he wants your lovin’. He loves it when you lay your head on his lap while you two watch tv. If you fall asleep on him he’s gonna die from the cuteness. He loves the fact you feel safe enough around him enough to fall asleep near him. 🧡 he likes it too when you put your hands under his mesh shirt and scratch his chest, that will make him purr like a cat, and might make him start acting unwise 😘 so give him scritches at your own risk

Illuso being the shithead he is, loves to make Maggio feel self conscious about his abilities and his stand so be sure to give him lots of encouraging words. Be his cheerleader! (Figuratively or literally he doesn’t mind either way 😅) Let him know how smart he is when he makes a connection during a mission. Let him know how creative and strong his stand abilities are! Let him know how jealous and in awe you are of his skills. Seriously, where does he come up with some of these wild ideas??? Don’t forget to praise him when he does any chores. He’s no slob but he loves flinging his laundry around the place. 😅 Seeing him sort out the dirty clothes and put them in the washer is enough to make your heart melt. He’s thoughtful and helpful so remember to praise and thank him for it. 🧡 His biggest contribution at home is cooking and dishwashing so him doing extra work deserves extra kisses! 💋 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Intellectual - Formaggio respects your opinions on things but he’s not someone interested in big philosophical discussion or debates. Don’t let his carefree nature fool you! He’s a very smart man but he just doesn’t like to take life so seriously. He’ll ask for your opinion if he isn’t sure about something but big conversations like the meaning of life or the study of _____ just isn’t in his interests. He much rather enjoy the moment of you two being together and enjoying activities with one another! 

Illuso-❤️

What’s their Love language?: Financial & Appreciation 

How do they show it?:

It’s unknown whether he stole it or actually bought it…but isn’t it just the thought that counts? He always brings you things like jewels, perfume, makeup, jewelry…small things that remind him of you. He’s actually very thoughtful ❤️ he got you a shirt that reminded him of your favorite aesthetic the last time. He somehow knows the right size for you every time. He says he knows your body better than you do~ 😘 flirty dork. 

He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to give out compliments that aren’t backhanded, but with you they are very much genuine. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. Did you get a haircut? Change up your makeup? You look gorgeous!-but you always look great regardless.❤️ Did you make dinner? If instagram existed in the early 2000s he’d be taking pictures of the food you made and be asking for seconds! 😋 Did you clean the house? You’re getting a BIG thanks for that- he HATES washing the windows! 

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Appreciation & Physical 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

He doesn’t look like it but once you get to know him he clearly has a weak self esteem. That’s why he puts others down to make himself feel better. ❤️‍🩹 But that isn’t working so show him some love by complimenting and praising him often. Tell him how gorgeous he is, take notice of how much effort he puts into his appearance! Let him know how helpful and strong his stand is. He’s secretly sensitive about MITM being physically weak. Praise him for whenever he decides to help you around the house. He may be smug and get pompous at times but he really loves your appreciation. He may not say it verbally but he will thank you for your sweet words. 😘

Show him your love! He loves seeing the others get jealous seeing you give him a peck on the cheek or if you’re tall enough on top of the head. 🥰 He doesn’t mind some light PDA in front of others but in private please ham it up. Kiss him a lot, snuggle him, smack his butt, whistle at him, be flirty! 🤭 he really loves cuddling on the couch while watching trash reality tv. Cuddle on the couch with a big fluffy blanket while you’re braiding his hair is his favorite thing to do with you. He LIVES for that. 🤩

What’s their least favorite form of affection?: 

activity - it’s not that he doesn’t have interest in your hobbies but he thinks there should be some hobbies that should be spent alone. He thinks time  alone makes the heart grow fonder. And…he thinks you wouldn’t be very interested in his hobby of people watching… 👀  you of all people know how nosey he is! He has a very niche type of hobbies…usually with him hiding in the mirror realm watching unsuspecting people doing embarrassing things. But he’s more than willing to watch trash reality TV with you. 🤭

Pesci-💚

What’s their Love language?: Emotional & Practical

How do they show it?: 

He’s a big empath who’s intune with your emotions. If anything is amiss he can feel it. If you’re nervous or sad he’s here for you. If you’re happy he’s happy! He’ll do anything to make you feel secure. He gives the biggest, warmest hugs. 

He likes to show love through his actions. He does all the household chores: he does the dishes, cleans the floors, dusts, cooks for you, make the bed, do the laundry, and anything else that comes to his mind. He doesn’t want you to worry about a single thing when you come home after a day of hard work. Be sure to show him plenty of gratitude!

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Emotional & Appreciation 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Show him your support whenever he feels anxious or overwhelmed! The poor boy is always pushed to his limit under Prosciutto’s mentoring. Listen carefully to him if he needs to talk out his frustrations and validate his feelings. Let him know you’re here for him no matter what. 💚 Give him a big hug and wipe away his tears when he’s feeling extra vulnerable. He’s not a mammoni . He’s a strong big man 🥺

Another way to show him love is by showing appreciation often. Compliment him a lot and praise him for nearly everything he does. He has self confidence issues so it’s up to you to uplift him! Tell him how strong he is, how good he looks today, how smart he is, and how helpful he is. 🥰  praise him all the time! Be genuine with it and give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek with it. It will really cheer him up. 💚

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Practical - this sweet boy appreciates your efforts but he doesn’t want you to overwork yourself! Let him take care of you. It makes him fret when he sees you exhausted and trying to wash the dishes. He worries about you overworking yourself and you end up becoming depressed, anxious, or coming down with a cold. If you’re overworked your immune system is at risk and he doesn’t want you risking your health!

Prosciutto-💛

What’s their Love language?: Financial & Emotional 

How do they show it?:

There’s nothing too expensive when it comes to you. Clothes, jewelry, food, and a house? He buys it all! He won’t let you know how much it costs, he doesn't care how little the boss pays him. He has faith in himself and his teammates that they’ll take down the boss and get all that good money. You haven’t seen how bad he’s going to spoil you once that happens ! He doesn’t want you feeling guilty for a single second for whatever he buys you. He believes it’s his duty to care for you. 

He doesn't look like it but he’s your biggest cheerleader. When you’re feeling down he’ll be there to give you one million reasons why you shouldn’t feel bad and that your mental illness is lying to you, and that he’s always here to put you back together when you break down. 🥺 He’s always sincere when he’s trying to uplift you. He does that sweet little forehead press and makes eye contact with you and caresses your cheek while giving you the biggest pep talk of your life. He’ll pep talk from all things small like psyching you up to make that phone call to make that drs appointment, encouraging you to show off your artwork and creative writing online, to training you up for a dangerous mission. He’s your rock and you can lean on him at any time! 💛

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Practical & Physical 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Helping him around the house is a way to make him feel a deep sense of love. Having a home cooked meal, a clean suit, or freshly sweeped floors gives him peace. He doesn’t expect you to be a house spouse but having one of his chores taken care of after he comes home from a rough mission will give you one of his rare smiles. He’ll be mindful of your hard work by eating every single bite off his plate and help clean it off, take his dirty shoes off at the door so he doesn’t make the floor dirty, and take his dirty clothes to the hamper. He’ll always recognize your hard work and thank you for it!

Another easy way to make him happy is to give him a hug and kiss every time he comes and goes. He prefers to not partake in PDA for the most part unless you two are on a date of course but he gladly accepts physical affection. Sit in his lap while he’s having a drink in his favorite chair and give him a big kiss. That will rile him up 😘 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Financial - He’s YOUR provider, you're NOT his provider. He wants to make that very clear. He understands the intention of your gesture and he appreciates the thoughtfulness but he’s here to take care of you! He doesn’t want you to worry about a single thing. Not money, not resources, nothing. He’s very “old fashioned” that he feels the need to be the provider as the Dominant partner. He’s not worried about gender roles, he was just raised to believe that the greatest way for a dominant partner to show their love is to provide. And he loves you very deeply 💛

Melone-💜

What’s their Love language?: Physical & Intellectual 

How do they show it?:

He’s very affectionate and drapes himself over you often like a needy lap cat. He’s always wrapping his arms around you, he’s even learned to type with one hand so he can communicate with BabyFace and still hold you. 😅 he never wants to let go! He even clings to you when you’re in the kitchen cooking not caring one bit that he might get burnt. He’s generous with the kisses too but he tries to be mindful of how much PDA you can tolerate. 😘 

He’s not as big of an info dumper as his icy teammate, but he loves to tell you about his progress with his stand BabyFace. Genetics are his biggest passion so he’s going to tell you a lot about how BabyFace is doing when he’s using them and educates you on each step. He will insist on you sitting right up next to him so you can see the screen and he can point around and show you everything! He gets so excited when he finds a bad match, making for a more lethal Junior. He’ll also talk about astrology and how blood types influence love compatibility. He’s so excited knowing that the 2 of you have compatible signs, it reaffirms his belief that you 2 were made for each other. 💜

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Physical & Activity 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Hugs and kisses of course! He’s pretty easy to read. He loves the skin to skin contact when it comes to cuddling after love making. Just simply brushing his hair out of his face while he’s working just melts his heart! He’ll want you to come over and give him some more love but you gotta remind him not to get greedy~. And because you don’t want to gross out the other teammates…unless that’s what you enjoy doing of course. 🤭 

He wants to know everything about you, your date of birth, blood type, astrological sign, your culture, talents, and hobbies. And he wants you to know the same about him! Try to find as much things you two have in common and bond over it! He would enjoy playing video games, watching documentaries, electronics, and probably sci-fi shows. But don’t forget to show him you’re favorite things as well, even if they aren’t his cup of tea he’ll still appreciate them because they are a part of you. 💜 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Financial - He loves the thoughtfulness of you trying to care for him but he rather have you save your money! The boss already gives out such little money you deserve to spend it on yourself! That’s what he believes. He feels guilty enough that he can’t afford to give you everything you want so he doesn’t want you wasting your money on him. He does hope one day once the boss's identity is found out and is eliminated he will be able to spoil you rotten. 💜

Ghiaccio-🩵

What’s their Love language?:  Intellectual & Activity 

How do they show it?:

He’s the king of info dumping. Hope you have your listening ears on! Whenever something makes him excited in a positive way or something that he disagrees with he MUST TELL you about it! That’s a huge sign of affection right there! And it’s something he can do in public so he doesn’t feel embarrassment when he does it. It’s a win win! You’ll know the difference between an info dump and a rant easily by the lack of yelling, and he talks a lot faster. 

Another way he shows affection is by showing interest in your hobbies! Depending on the activity he might want to try it. He’ll play video games with you, watch your favorite tv shows and be mindful of any spoilers, he’ll try jigsaw puzzles, try some physical activities he doesn’t usually do like swimming and tennis. He has appreciation for art and your artwork. He may not do it himself because he’s just so impatient but he likes to watch you do your work or do his own work along with you. 🩵

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Emotional & Intellectual 

What’s a good way to show them love?:  

Be there for him emotionally! This guy doesn’t want to admit it but he clearly wears his heart on his sleeve! (But don’t tell him that or else he’s gonna rant about that idiom 😰) most of the time his emotions are masked by anger but he feels his emotions very strongly. If he’s having an outburst, listen and talk to him and let him know it’s okay. Validate his feelings but let him know that everything is okay. Explain why things are the way things are or the meaning of an idiom if something has him fuming. If he knows he probably will calm down and even if the explanation isn’t enough ,  having someone to listen to you is soothing. Let him know often that you love him because he fears his anger might make you drift off from him. 🩵 

Another wonderful way to show him love is to do as he does-info dump! Tell him about your hobbies, favorite shows, video games, or your favorite animal. He’ll stop right in his tracks and listen to you enthusiastically info dump. He might not understand everything you’re saying but seeing you excited makes his heart melt. He’ll ask plenty of questions about your passion if he isn’t familiar so he can get to know more about you. He will see it as an opportunity to get closer and to have better future engaging conversations about your favorite topics 🩵

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Physical- Ghiaccio is a touched starved man but a little touch goes a long way. Too much touch is overstimulating and makes him overwhelmed. There’s a time and place for a loving embrace- like intimate time and sleep time. If you’re feeling down and need a hug or kiss just ask and he’ll give it! He’s mostly just uncomfortable with the unexpected touches. Ask permission and 9 times out of 10 he’ll say yes…in private of course. But he’s no hypocrite, he asks for your permission too. Especially when it comes to intimacy. 🩵

[anonymous-dentist]

Roier-centric eldritch psychological thriller-slasher starring his wonderful husband, his two lovely kids, and the man in the mirror:

- red in eye? Not sleeping, go figure

- he’s had Cellbit back for just a few days after rescuing him from purgatory. No Doied or reset, yeah

- castle is built on top of paranormal rooms. Magic bleeds

- Roier is clingy, because duh? His husband is back from seemingly the dead? And they can finally chill for a bit before they go kill everyone in the Feds <3 #couple things

- knife is missing from the kitchen, sounds right tbh

- Cellbit is sad and tired and just wants to rest. He doesn’t care about killing anymore, he’s tired

- …which is fine! Roier isn’t picky tbh, he’s just happy Cellbit is back

- Roier is tired tho. He’s been sleeping, but he always wakes up so tired

- and Cellbit notices, and he starts trying Roier on some fancy sleepy teas and stuff because he may be traumatized, but he’s also worried

- Roier is paranoid tho. Cucurucho keeps watching him when he’s out on the island, he swears! There are eyes on him, what?

- okay, maybe he’s sure, because he goes to do laundry and! His red hoodie is gone! He swears he put it in the washer wtf. Cucurucho must have stolen it

- he suggests as much to Cellbit, who seems properly upset for two moments before storming off to the fear room to think

- …but it’s fine! He’s allowed his own space!

- Roier notices dark circles under his eyes in the mirror. Sigh, so much for beauty sleep :(

- at least Cellbit is doing better. He still doesn’t wanna kill atm, but he does seem to be planning something, so there’s that!

- Bad comes by to talk to Cellbit. Roier HATES him, hand on his sword even in his own home, but it’s FINE! Cellbit says as much, and Roier trusts him with his own boundaries

- Richas wants a bedtime story. Roier tells him all about the adventures of a little boy named Sally who goes to live on the moon. Pepito is entranced

- in bed, Roier likes to snuggle Cellbit. These days, he wants to be snuggled. He wants to know Cellbit is holding him, that he’s real.

- “I missed you.” “…Really?” “Yes, really, god, you’re stupid. Mwah.”

- Roier goes to shower and finds the drain has been clogged by white fur. Cucurucho…! >:(

- (is he being watched?)

- Cellbit is CONCERNED about this, my god. He doesn’t want the kids in the murder room, so they go to stay in the Order instead. Because that’s safe

- no mirrors in the Order. Thank god, but this just means Roier can’t do his makeup :( How else is he supposed to cover his dark circles and stuff?

- and Roier… sleeps better! It’s quiet and nice and cold in the Order. That must be it, the castle just needs a ceiling fan going

- after a bit of investigation, they go back to the castle

- the next morning, they wake up to frantic messages from bad and Phil anout the Order being completely WRECKED. It’s all ruined, parts of it are blown up

- Cellbit is destroyed. Right in the center of the room over the logo is a bright red smiley face, :)

- but Pepito seems.. off. A little worried, he keeps holding onto Roier’s hand with his thumb in his mouth. Rip

- to try and cheer people, including Cellbit, up, Roier says he should start doing paranormal room tours again, and it cheers Cellbit right up because he LOVES spooky shit

- blood room. The lava seems to flow brighter, but it’s probably the light. It’s cozy, at least, snork mimimi

- Roier shaves in the morning in front of the mirror every other day or so. He blinks, and he opens his eyes to see himself crying

- …so maybe Cellbit’s disappearance got to him harder than he’s been letting on. It’s fine!!

- the Order is being rebuilt. Cellbit is there ALL THE TIME, making it a bit more of a community center than a secret society considering his whole ‘retirement’ thing. But Roier misses him :( But he doesn’t wanna be too clingy, he’s a grown-ass man, and so is his husband

- until tnt goes off one night while Cellbit is working in the order and Roier is asleep. He barely gets out alive, though it’s not like it would’ve mattered with respawns

- Richas is Deeply Upset about this. He wants to beat up Cucurucho, but like. What can he do??

- (Cellbit goes to get some sand from his chests in the fear room to make glass and realizes it’s gone. Upon inspection, so is a lot of his gunpowder)

- Roier is quietly taken off the allowlist. He doesn’t even know

- Pepito wants to hear another story about Sally and the moon. So Roier tells him, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until Pepito starts crying, too

- “It’s a sad story, don’t worry. I’m fine.” “It doesn’t sound sad to me. Sally is happy, right?” “Oh, probably. The moon is awesome.”

- more hair in the drain. A weird smell in the bathroom when Roier goes to shave and shower. Bleach?

- he wipes the fog from the mirror and swears his reflection is smiling at him until the mirror fogs again. Upon wiping the fog again. Normal him

- he’s starting to get a little freaked out, so he goes to talk to and hang out with his dad, who mentions that Roier looks a little paler than usual. Maybe he’s just sick and hallucinating!

- so foolish, doctor, does a check-up. The reflective mirror on his headband stares into Roier’s soul, and his eyes look so red it looks like he’s been crying

- foolish sends him home with a packet of kelp cocaine. Roier doesn’t take it, but he appreciates the thought

-Cellbit isn’t home, so Roier goes to hang out in the blood room and pet the demon dogs

- and he falls asleep

- and he wakes up in bed. In his pajamas. The next day

- but Cellbit doesn’t seem to know that he like? Napped at all the previous day? He was awake when Cellbit got home with the kids. He made dinner. Asked about the murder room, pouted when Cellbit brushed it off, cuddled in bed

- but when Roier looks absolutely confused and almost terrified, Cellbit goes quiet

- “what is it?” He asks

- Roier swallows and can’t even manage a smile.

- “nothing,” he lies.

- he’s used to this, right? The blacking out? But it’s never lasted this long, and it just feels different. Right?

- when Cellbit goes to make coffee, Roier storms into the bathroom and tells the mirror to knock it off. Whatever it’s doing, it can do to bad boy halo instead

- but then Pepito screams and Richarlyson cackles and Roier goes downstairs to get a photo only to see them standing in front of the fridge and staring at a decapitated polar bear head, Cellbit looking very :/ behind them

- Roier’s reflection in the microwave winks, and he fights the urge to cry

- Roier starts trying to get every reflective surface out of the castle he can find. When Cellbit asks why, Roier lies and says it’s spring cleaning. In January.

- but then Cellbit looks him in the eyes, and Roier sees his own terrified reflection in them, and he knows he’s doomed

- unless…

- no!!!

- it’s the thought of potentially hurting his husband that makes Roier give in and start explaining all the weird shit that’s been going on for weeks now, and Cellbit is quiet through it all

- they hold each other on the balcony, and then:

- “Guapito, I think you’ve been possessed by a Blood Spirit. Kind of like a leech. A ghost wandering in search of strong emotions to feed off of.”

- “what the fuck”

- “don’t worry!! I think we can get rid of it!!”

- so they try. Cellbit gets to researching, and Roier sits and stares at a very dark room with all reflective things in the house Gone

- and then they do an exorcism

- and it works!! It all seems fine for a few days!!

- the mirrors are put back up

- Roier goes to shave

- and his reflection is staring right at him with a smile when he raises his razor to his cheek

- Roier’s hand shakes.

- he looks at the razor

- he looks at his reflection

- he hears Cellbit in the other room

- he swallows

- he raises his razor to his eyes

- and-

The End

[writingquestionsanswered]

When I write I find myself simply narrating things that are happening, i.e. this person said this, they went there, they did this, with descriptions of places sprinkled in.. exactly like a movie. How do I stop doing this and narrate a story for a book and not a movie? What is the difference between writing down everything that happens in a movie (that plays in your head) vs. writing a novel?

Thank you

"Laundry List Narration" vs Exposition

First, I want to say the ability to see a story play like a movie in your mind can be a helpful one, but I do think it can also be a pitfall for what is sometimes called "laundry list narration," where instead of a balance of exposition, action, and dialogue, the story becomes a long list of items (aka a "laundry list") of what people are doing, thinking, and saying. I'm going to take the first paragraph of The Hunger Games and turn it into laundry list narration so you can see what it looks like:

I wake up. The other side of the bed is cold. There is only the rough canvas cover of the mattress where Prim's warmth should be. Prim must have had bad dreams. She probably climbed into bed with our mother. Today is reaping day.

(*** Again, that is not the actual first paragraph of The Hunger Games. I have re-written them to a "laundry list" style.)

Each sentence could be its own line item:

-- I wake up. -- The other side of the bed is cold. -- There is only the rough canvas mattress cover where Prim's warmth should be. -- Prim must have had bad dreams. -- She probably climbed into bed with our mother. -- Today is reaping day.

It really does feel like an observer translating what's happening for someone who can't see it. There's no emotion, no action, no dialogue. It's austere and staccato, like a robot telling a story.

The sentences in laundry list narration usually begin in one of the following ways:

-- pronouns (he/she/they/I/we) -- names -- articles (a, an, the) -- time adverbs like today, tomorrow, yesterday, now, suddenly -- place adverbs like there, nearby, inside, outside, upstairs, downstairs

Laundry list narration also tends to "tell" rather than "show"...

Telling: Sally was mad.

Showing: Sally's nostrils flared as she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

Now, let's look at how the first paragraph of The Hunger Games is actually written:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.

It's much harder to put that into individual line items because it all flows together. It's not a staccato list of things happening. There is some telling (the other side of the bed is cold), but showing, too (my fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth, but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.) There's thought and emotion (Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.) There's no dialogue, but there's action (my fingers stretch out...)

Unfortunately, there's not a quick fix to this in your writing. It's just something you need to be aware of as you write and try to avoid doing it. Also: keep it in mind as you edit so you can revise.

Remember to lean on showing vs telling when possible (unless it makes more sense to "tell" which it sometimes does.) And also remember to maintain a relative balance of exposition (explaining, describing things), action (things happening), and dialogue (people talking.)

You can have a look at my Description master list of posts for further help on these topics.

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[dirtydragonthoughts]

I'm finally getting around to reading Transformers: Exiles and

omg. It is so bad. Like, bad on multiple levels.

I read Transformers: Exodus a few years ago. It was... OK. Definitely not a great work of literature, and there were some "huh" moments in it, but it was fine. But now I'm starting on the next book. I didn't look at the TFWiki entry for Exiles until last night, but just the Errors section is absolutely sending me. (The idea that the book was panic rewritten by Hasbro just before publication would explain a LOT of the issues I'm seeing.)

As someone who loves the franchise, it physically hurts that this guy was paid to write this. It is completely phoned in. Now, I'm sure he was writing on spec, and was probably handed an outline or specific plot points/characters that needed to be included, but even with that limitation it could have been a LOT better.

Anyway I'm going to jot down some of my impressions in this thread because I want to make sure I remember why I didn't like this book, years down the road when I see the book still sitting on my bookshelf. (If I even keep it, that is up for debate.) I'll even keep away from the things mentioned in the Error section of the wiki entry, since that's low-hanging fruit.

(If you enjoyed this book I'm glad for you, but I am down to just hate-reading it now. Sorry about that.)

Impressions will be behind cuts in case you don't want to spoil yourself for this masterpiece. XD

I've finished Part 1 and some of the things that stuck with me have been:

There's a thing in fiction writing that's often bandied about, how you should show and don't tell. It's hard to explain to new authors what this means, and why it's a bad thing. Well, this book has about a million examples. Instead of showing how a character is feeling, it just tells us. Optimus was stressed. Optimus was worried. Prowl was irritated.

Related to the showing/telling thing, this book loves just giving a laundry list of things that happen, regardless of how important it is. For example, we got a whole paragraph on what happened after a race on Velocitron. None of these details mattered to the story in any way, but we still got a whole half page of detail about it:

We got a multi-page scene of Prowl cultivating an informant. He gets named (Armco). A few chapters later Prowl brings him in saying "Here's someone who can keep his mouth shut" and then IMMEDIATELY someone tries to blow up the Ark, and Armco falls out of the plot, never to be seen again. RIP Armco, we never knew ya.

Weird character note: The Autobots show up on Velocitron and discover there's a schism in the leadership there, with factions forming on both sides. While the Autobots are preparing to leave the planet, the "bad" leader says something relatively innocuous to Optimus, who then punches the Velocitronian in the face. This sets off a giant battle between the two factions, whereupon the Autobots dip and go through the space bridge. Brilliant.

More when I finish part 2.