#while also try to keep the make out going

[azzibuckets]

spoiled

vote paige as a wnba all star

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: paige spoiling azzi. that’s it. wrote in all lowercase bc im lazy. also rough ending bc i didnt know what else to add lmao

word count: 5k

main masterlist | oneshots masterlist

when it works

paige typically isn’t very observant, per se, but with azzi things are somehow always different. noticing things about her best friend comes like second nature to her—like how she’ll always slip a couple of bottles of coconut water into the cooler, or how during sad movies she suddenly has the urge to go to the bathroom every five minutes, blaming it on said coconut water but it’s really so that she can cry without her family making fun of her. or, more relevantly, paige notices that no matter how many dresses azzi looks through, her eyes keep flicking back to the sparkly one in the corner.

it was the first one azzi had looked at when they’d entered the small boutique store. eyes widening, she’d smoothed her hand over the satiny chiffon with a quiet sort of reverence before flipping over the price tag at the top. both paige and azzi’s jaws had dropped at the same time; azzi had brought the slip closer to her face, as if squinting at it would change the amount of zeroes. “didn’t even know dresses could sell for five hundred,” the dark haired girl had muttered before swiftly moving onto the next aisle, not daring to linger with something she knew she couldn’t have.

azzi had liked other ones—a black gown with a slit on the side that paige thought her long legs would look great in, and an emerald green sheath dress that dipped to show cleavage and hugged her curves a little too well. both articles fell within her budget, and it’s not like they were ugly; paige thought that azzi would look just as stunning in them—although it might be a biased opinion, considering that paige also thought azzi could wear a trash bag and still be the most beautiful girl at prom—but nothing compared to the smile she’d had when admiring the first one.

so while azzi was trying on her budget-friendly dresses, paige had went back and snagged the sparkly one. “hey, azzi.” she knocked on the door of the fitting room. “you all done?”

rustling, and then—“yeah. still tryna choose between the black and green.”

paige rises on her tippy toes to heave the dress over the door. “don’t come out yet. put this one on first.”

“paige.” azzi laughed breathily. “this one’s a little too pricey. my mom would implode.”

“i know, i know.” she shakes the dress emphatically. “just give it a try, yeah? i just want a look.”

hesitantly, the dress slips slowly over the door and into azzi’s hands. paige waits patiently outside, foot tapping against the floor. “paige?” azzi’s voice floats out after a few moments. “need help with the zipper.” the door opens a crack, and brown eyes peek out.

“you can’t get it yourself?” if the dress fits anything like paige had imagined, then she doesn’t think she can handle being in a small room when azzi looks like that. if she’s honest, being with azzi always sort of dims her logic, and she doesn’t trust that she won’t do or say something stupid that will expose her more than friendly feeling blossoming of late. but azzi nods adamantly, and paige stifles a groan as she steps into the room.

paige doesn’t let her eyes linger, immediately positioning herself behind her best friend. focus on the zipper, she reminds herself. ignore everything else.

but even from the backside, she’s a traitor to her own thoughts. she zips up the dress slowly, fingers brushing against her back. azzi’s somehow both curves and muscle, and paige resists the urge to trace her thumb along the path of her spine. azzi shivers. “sorry,” paige mutters. “my hands are cold.”

the zipper goes up easily, but paige doesn’t let go. her hands slide down azzi’s shoulders, tracing down to her waist, and she eases forward until they’re flush against each other. heart skipping a beat, paige burrows her chin into the crook of azzi’s neck as her hands slide around her hips. “looks fuckin gorgeous, azzi,” she whispers into the nape of her neck, breath tickling against the younger girl’s curls. she presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw, just for good measure.

a delicious shade of pink blooms across azzi’s cheeks. “i like it,” she says quietly, touching the neckline a little self-consciously. paige’s hold tightens on her.

this time, paige doesn’t have the willpower to avoid azzi in the mirror. the younger girl shifts in front of the glass, studying the dress from all angles. it’s only then that paige notices that this dress too has a slit. it’s subconscious, the way her thumb strokes across the exposed skin of azzi’s thigh, where the gap begins, and she doesn’t even really know what she’s doing until azzi’s breath catches, legs spreading a little as she pushes into paige, who groans. fuck. paige thinks she might faint with the feeling of azzi’s warm skin against her own. she clears her throat. focus. “this might be the one, mama,” she says as normally as possible.

“i can’t.” azzi shakes her head and reaches for the zipper, almost eager to take it off. “i told you, it’s too expensive.”

“nah, you’re getting this dress.” paige pushes away azzi’s hand and takes over, unzipping the dress carefully, one hand planted on azzi’s waist, not so much as to steady her but to feel. “i gotchu.”

“paige,” azzi says indignantly. “it’s half a thousand dollars.”

paige stuffs her hands into her pockets, averting her eyes as azzi steps out of the dress and starts to put her clothes back on. “honestly, az, it would be a crime against humanity for you to not wear something you look so good in.”

“i don’t care. i’m not letting you pay for that,” azzi says firmly.

“baby, you’re doing me a favor.” paige picks up the dress, shaking free the wrinkles before threading it back on the hanger. “it’s not even for you, it’s for me. i wanna see you in this dress.” when azzi stays silent, she adds, “it’s blue and pink which is basically purple and purple is my favorite color.” her logic doesn’t make sense to even herself, and paige doesn’t know why the hell she’s rambling, just that being so close to a half naked azzi is muddling her thoughts more than usual.

but they’re best friends for a reason, and some of that logic seems to work its way into azzi’s brain. “you’re ridiculous,” azzi says fondly, hand pushing paige’s chest a little.

paige grabs her waist so that she can kiss her forehead. “forgot how short you are,” she mumbles. “gotta get you some high heels too.”

“i’m not short,” azzi grumbles, but she has to look up at paige to say this, which doesn’t really help her point.

paige doesn’t hear her, merely grabbing the dress and leading azzi out of the fitting room. “pink sound good?” she asks, bending down to examine the first rack of heels they come across.

“i have heels at home,” azzi says resolutely.

“black heels.” when the younger girl’s eyes narrow, she says softly, “come on, baby. you know i got some nil deals. it’s really not a big deal.” in all honesty, paige has more money than she knows what to do with. becoming the first freshman to win national player of the year came with more media attention than ever, and she’d signed multiple brand deals that left her bank account constantly growing. sure, she’d used some of it to fund charities and donate to certain causes, but there was still an abundant leftover—more than enough to spoil azzi, which was quite possibly her favorite thing to do.

azzi’s eyebrows shoot up. “a five hundred dollar dress and hundred dollar heels isn’t a big deal?”

“not for you.” paige holds up two pairs of pink heels, one a light bubblegum and the other bright neon. “which one?”

“paige.”

“azzi.”

“paige. my mom’s gonna murder you.”

“i’ll just throw away the receipt and we can lie about the price.” paige looks down at the heels. “come on, azzi, if you don’t choose, i’m buying both.”

“fine.” azzi points reluctantly to the neon ones. pleased, paige grabs the lid and boxes it up. “remind me to never go shopping with you again,” the younger girl mumbles. “else you’re gonna go bankrupt.”

“wouldn’t mind going bankrupt,” paige says mindlessly. “long as you’re happy.”

azzi doesn’t know what to say to that, so she takes paige’s hand instead, who manages to hook the dress to the inside of her elbow and hold the shoebox and her wallet with her left hand so she doesn’t have to let go of azzi with her right. they check out, and paige is positively glowing at the look in azzi’s eyes.

as they emerge from the store, they spot azzi’s family milling about at the food court. but azzi isn’t ready just yet to share paige with them, so she tugs the older girl’s hand, halting their steps. paige turns around with questioning eyes.

“i just—” azzi sighs, and reaches for paige’s hand and squeezes it. “i don’t even know what to say. thank you, paige. you didn’t have to do that.”

“i know.” paige squeezes her hand back. “but i wanted to. someone’s gotta spoil the princess.”

azzi rolls her eyes before leaning in to kiss paige’s cheek. then her nose, then her forehead, and on her chin, until she’s peppering paige’s entire face with perfectly platonic appreciation kisses. “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

paige is grinning like a fool once azzi is done. “you forgot a spot,” she jokes playfully, tapping her index finger against her lips, but then azzi freezes and paige starts to sweat, because where the fuck did that boldness came from? she steps back hesitantly, thinking azzi might just about start yelling at her, but azzi steps right along with her. the dark haired girl touches her face, palm cupping her cheek, thumb swiping her bottom lip, and pulls her in. their lips meet, tentatively and softly.

paige groans a little, because azzi’s lips are soft and pillowy, just like she’d dreamt of, and taste a little like the chocolate milkshake she’d had earlier. as azzi breathes into her, paige can’t think of anything but more, more, more. unfortunately, the younger girl pulls away after a few seconds, and looks up at her with hooded eyes. biting her lip, paige realizes that azzi’s hands have somehow made their way under her hoodie to palm her ribs, and she thinks she has approximately five seconds before she actually, for real passes out.

“thank you,” azzi whispers, forehead pressed against paige’s.

paige’s heart stutters. “you’re welcome,” she says shakily, head spinning.

as the reality of their situation starts to set in, azzi giggles. “you just paid $600 for me to kiss you.”

“aw, shut up.” paige pushes her away, but her eyes stay glued to azzi’s mouth, and azzi laughs even harder.

truth be told, it hadn’t been entirely selfless on paige’s part. lord knows the amount of hours she’s spent stalking azzi’s date on instagram, sizing him up. but no matter how many good things she hears about him, about how he’s amazing at football, even better at baseball, a good brother and student, it’s not enough. not for azzi. it’s a bitter feeling, to know that no man is good enough for her best friend. but, as paige slips her wallet into her pocket, she thinks that maybe seeing azzi pose with someone else will sting a little less if she knew that she was the one who’d dressed azzi from head to toe. a twisted sort of satisfaction floods through her, because azzi may dance with another person, but at the end of the night, she’ll come home to her.

༉‧₊˚✧

when it backfires

azzi yawns. it’s barely past midnight, but her legs are still sore and aching from lift, and she’s about ready to knock out. she finishes off her cocktail before sliding a hundred dollar bill across the bar. “you can keep the rest,” she tells the bartender as she hops off the stool and grabs her purse, but he doesn’t even look at it.

“your tab’s already been covered, ma’am,” he replies, continuing to pour drinks.

azzi’s eyebrows furrow. the bartender nods his head at where the team is clumped together in one of the corner booths. “one of your friends got it. think it was the white one with the black shirt.”

and yeah, azzi might be tired, but she’s not tired past the point of letting her ex-girlfriend get away with her bullshit.

“you don’t get to do that.”

paige stares up at her, and azzi wills herself to keep her glare focused on bright blue eyes and not the girl who’s half in paige’s lap, arm looped through the blonde’s and thighs settled onto paige’s like they’re fucking glued together. “do what?” paige asks, taking a slow, unbothered sip of her beer.

“beg for my attention with your stupid money.” azzi throws the bartender-rejected benjamin on the table. it falls into a pool of condensation, wilting in the dampness, looking a lot like how azzi feels. “buying me things won’t change the fact that you’re a complete asshole.”

paige scoffs. “i bought the entire team drinks, azzi,” she says coldly, waving her off. “you’re not as special as you think you are.” the entire table falls silent, all the other girls pretending to not see war unfolding. it’s not that strange of a sight to see these days—the two star players of their team, always having been poised, supportive, leaders, now throwing grenades at each other like it means nothing. they’ve learned by now not to question it, not to dig too deep, to not ask azzi why she’s ignoring paige or ask paige why she won’t look at azzi, or else azzi will go back to her room and paige will get into her car and disappear for the rest of the day.

paige picks up the bill between her thumb and forefinger like it’s dirty, not worth her time. then she tosses it at azzi, as if it’s nothing more than trash, and azzi takes a step back as she realizes that she’s not worth paige’s time. not anymore.

eyes stinging, she turns around quickly, but it’s not fast enough to hide the tears already pooling at her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. paige softens, regret coloring her cheeks—she hadn’t meant to say that, to embarrass azzi, especially not in front of the stupid girl on her lap, and especially not in front of their team. “azzi,” she calls out, reaching for her, but she’s already gone.

a glass slams down on the table, and it’s like the entire room falls silent. “way to go, paige,” caroline says dryly. “making my best friend cry every day this past week wasn’t enough for you? now you gotta ruin the one good day she’s had?” it’s only now that paige remembers why they’re even at the bar—azzi had dropped thirty two points against one of the top ranked teams in the country, had been all smiles for the first time in a while. the taste in paige’s mouth turns sour as she realizes that she hadn’t even said congratulations. as much as she hates to admit it, azzi had been right—she’d drunkenly thought that paying for her drinks would be congratulations enough, that she could make everything up to azzi without ever saying a word or doing anything hard. her stomach sinks.

caroline stands up, brushing off her jeans as she moves to follow. “she was right. sometimes you are an asshole.”

paige can’t even argue back. she likes that azzi has someone who stands up so fiercely for her—she just never imagined that it would be against her. she only has the energy to move the girl off of her, who—paige can’t even remember her name, only that her dimple resembled azzi’s, but was nowhere near as cute, and that her hair was curly, but nowhere near as pretty as azzi’s—grabs the hundred off the floor, eyes gleaming. “i could use this,” she giggles.

without hesitation, paige slaps the money from her hand and puts it into her own pocket. she’s sure as hell not going to keep it, but she’d rather die than let it fall into the hands of someone else. “don’t fucking touch that.”

“your team’s right. you are an asshole,” the girl snaps, and she marches back to her group of friends, who all send a collective dirty look to paige. all the fight leaves paige’s body, and she slumps into her seat and groans.

nika pats her hand sympathetically. “rough night.”

“shut up, nika.” paige allows herself a moment of self-pity, burrowing her face into her arms. “do you think i’m an asshole?” she asks quietly after a beat.

“um.” when she lifts her head to fix nika with a warning glare, the brunette shrugs. “a well-intentioned asshole,” she offers.

“fuck my life.”

“hey, i don’t wanna hear you complaining.” nika shoves her, but it’s affectionate. “i’m still confused on why the hell you ever broke up with her in the first place.”

the question of the year, paige thinks dryly to herself. but she can’t really answer that when she doesn’t know why either, so she grumbles, “i said shut up, nika.”

༉‧₊˚✧

things never really go back to normal after that night. it hadn’t even been the worst things they’ve said each other (when you know someone for so long, fights are inevitable, and when you’ve known someone since you were teens, well, let’s just say every teenage girl has said something terrible at one point). it was the way azzi had walked away, and paige had let her. it was the fact that they’d both made an active decision to just give up, which is probably the breaking point for two girls whose entire relationship had been built on fighting for each other—through distance, pressure, expectations.

amari wipes the sheen of her forehead with her shirt. “spot me?” she requests, and azzi nods dutifully. lift ended half an hour ago, but amari wanted to squeeze in a few more sets, and azzi doesn’t want to be alone right now, so she’d lingered.

“did you see paige’s story?” amari asks, arms trembling as she lifts up the barbell.

azzi stiffens, but she keeps her face neutral. “nah.”

“i heard she dropped like, six hundred dollars at the mall the other day. was on a double date type of thing with the soccer girls.”

azzi’s not sure why amari is telling her all this—they’re pretty close, but azzi’s only ever opened up about her relationship with paige to caroline. she knows paige is the same with nika, stemming from an unspoken place of mutual respect to try and not let whatever’s going on between them affect the rest of the team by limiting who they tell.

“that’s cool,” azzi says, hands hovering over amari’s as she struggles on the last rep. amari flops onto the ground, breathing hard, and azzi lies down next to her as they both stare at the ceiling.

“i’m just saying.” amari rolls over to look at her. “she spends a shit ton of money, but that’s the only thing she does.”

azzi is slowly losing her patience. “what are you getting at, amari?”

“like, i’m not even gonna lie, it’s easy for her to drop a bag. she has money. minimal effort, you know? what’s hard for a D1 athlete with a busy ass schedule is using her time and efforts.” when azzi squints in confusion, amari takes that as a sign to continue. “like, i know you see her spoiling all these other girls, but shit, azzi. you’re the only one she ever set aside time for and did all the extra cringy shit for.”

azzi flops onto her back. she takes a second to debate on whether or not she should continue to engage amari—it feels like a mini act of betrayal to paige, but technically, amari was the one who started it. it couldn’t hurt to ask a couple of questions. “how do you know she’s not taking these girls on romantic beach dates and stuff?” she asks, contorting her voice to sound casual.

“i room with her, azzi. i know,” amari deadpans. “i also know that she’s definitely still in love with you.”

azzi falls silent. a door slams in the background, and there’s a faint sound of balls dribbling.

“can i ask you a question?”

“mhm.”

“why’d you break up with her? she’s hopeless for you, and you’re clearly not over her.”

azzi looks at amari, puzzled. “huh?”

“why’d you end it if neither of you wanted it?” amari prods.

“i didn’t.”

“you didn’t?”

azzi throws an arm over her eyes. she feels like crying again, and breaking down in the middle of the weight room is not her ideal way to spend the morning. “she broke up with me, amari,” she says, voice muffled.

her teammate snorts. “i don’t believe that.”

“then i don’t know what to tell you.” azzi sits up suddenly. “she came to my room, ended things, then left and never spoke to me again after that. she ended it, and it’s over, and i can’t even fucking look at her anymore without feeling like i want to die.” tears are dripping down her cheeks now, and she curses under her breath. she hadn’t meant to say all that. “i gotta go,” she tells amari, who looks more confused than ever. “i’ll see you at practice.”

azzi doesn’t want to believe amari at first. hope is a devastating thing, and for all she knows, amari could’ve been lying out of her buttcheeks. but a week later, when she wakes up hungover and head aching after a night at ted’s, she finds paige in her kitchen, and her friend’s words come back her in a sudden and dizzying rush.

more exactly, azzi wakes up to the smell of omelettes. which is peculiar to her, because nobody on the team likes omelettes but her. when she pads to the kitchen, still in her pajamas and glasses, she double takes at paige standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyeing the pan on the stove like staring hard enough will undo the burnt mess.

“what are you doing in my apartment?” she asks harshly. startled, paige jolts a little, and she curses loudly as her hand comes into contact with the surface of the pan.

“jesus, paige.” azzi grabs her hand, more rough than she needs to be, and paige winces. softening, azzi guides the older girl’s hand under a steady stream of cold water. it’s quiet, only the sound of the running tap and paige’s labored breathing filling the air. azzi can feel the blonde looking stubbornly at her, but it’s 8 AM in the morning and she can’t deal with all that right now, so she doesn’t look up.

she applies some ointment onto paige’s hand, not trusting that paige would do anything more than just stick a band-aid on it and call it a day if left to her own devices. she rummages through the cabinets to find some gauze. paige is wordless the entire time. “geno’s gonna kill you,” she mutters, breaking the silence as she slowly wraps the bandaging around paige’s fingers. “what were you even tryna do? you don’t even like omelettes.”

paige gestures gloomily to the rubbery mixture of eggs and tomatoes and other roasted, indecipherable ingredients. “i chose the recipe that said super easy.” she shakes her head. “i shoulda known when the first step said sauté.”

“sautéing is super easy,” azzi says. “what, you run out of pans at your own apartment or something?” she lets go of paige’s hand. “what are you doing here?”

“‘m tryna learn how to cook better.” the blonde scratches the back of her head sheepishly. “and i know you like omelettes even though they taste gross, and you’re always hangry as hell when you’re hungover, and, well.” she shrugs, looking hopeless.

“how’d you know i’m hungover?”

“nika said some of the girls were going out to ted’d last night, and i didn’t get an invite, so.” paige shrugs. “i assumed you were going.”

that makes azzi a little mad. “we promised to keep the team out of it,” she says. “don’t act like i told them not to invite you. you were invited. everyone was invited in the group chat.”

“i’m sorry.”

azzi snorts out an exasperated breath, and paige licks her lips, nervous.

“why’d you break up with me?”

paige blinks, the question clearly throwing her off guard. “what?”

“you heard me.”

paige turns away, starting to clean up the kitchen, and that gets azzi even angrier. “don’t do that. don’t turn away when it gets hard.” when paige continues wiping down the counters, azzi says harshly, “i know you fucking lied to me.”

paige stills.

“i’ve always been honest with you.” azzi says, voice breaking. “we promised each other that.”

paige’s head bows, but her back remains turned. “who said i lied to you?”

“god, paige, i know you’re still in love with me.” she spreads her arms, hoping to god she’s not wrong. “i see it, everyone else on the team sees it. you broke up with me, giving some lame ass excuse that the timing wasn’t right, that we should focus on basketball.”

“you didn’t want anything serious,” paige says lowly. “i can’t not do a serious relationship with you, azzi. i can’t—i can’t have a little bit of you while wanting all of you. i can’t have some of you knowing eventually i might have none of you. it’s not fair to you or me.” she sniffles. “if you didn’t see us going anywhere, then what was the point of us being together?”

“that’s not—that’s not what i meant.” azzi grabs paige’s elbow, and finally, she turns around. “god, paige. you think i didn’t want serious with you?”

paige runs her hands through her hair, frantic. “you said you weren’t ready for anything more beyond just going on dates! how else am i supposed to interpret that?”

“i wasn’t ready yet, but that didn’t mean i was never gonna be ready.” azzi furrows her eyebrows. “we’ve been just friends for so fucking long, i thought we needed time to adjust to being more before we threw ourselves deeper into everything.” she searched paige’s eyes. “we’ve never been good at taking it slow. or thinking.”

“well, you didn’t say that.” paige laughs bitterly. “so i thought you didn’t see a future in us, azzi, and that fucking broke me.”

“well.” azzi crosses her arms, not so quick to forgive. “you did move on pretty fast.”

“i was tryna distract myself from thinking of you.” paige’s throat bobs, and her voice falls quiet. “it didn’t work.”

“dropping six hundred dollars didn’t work?” azzi provokes, mouth twisted.

paige scowls. “it was three hundred. and who told you that?”

“she’s a gold digger, paige,” azzi says, ignoring the question.

“never said she wasn’t.” paige lifts her hand in surrender. “but it was nice knowing she didn’t want anything but money. i didn’t want her to get invested.”

“how chivalrous of you,” azzi says dryly.

“i know what it looked like.” paige’s hand hovers over her waist, and azzi shifts closer, giving the older girl permission to pull her in. “let me prove to you that you’re the only one for me.” paige kisses her shoulder. “besides, i didn’t hear you complaining when i dropped five hundred on your prom dress.”

azzi scoffs, twisting away but paige’s hands are insistent. “that was so long ago.”

“i know. maybe we should work on our communication skills.” paige presses another kiss to the pulse on azzi’s neck, feeling the flutter beneath her lips. she tastes a little like sweat, and paige loves it.

“and take it slow,” azzi emphasizes, fighting back a smile as she pushes paige’s head away.

“right.” sheepish, paige wipes the spit from her neck with the pad of her thumb. “slow.”

“i better never see you dropping a bag on anyone else again,” azzi warns.

“swear,” paige promises.

“that was the worst month of my life,” azzi admits.

paige nods in assent. “i should’ve talked to you,” she murmurs. “instead of just walking out.” her head falls on azzi’s chest, and azzi holds her.

“caroline’s gonna be jumping for joy when she finds out,” she snorts.

paige winces. “think she’s still mad at me for the bar thing?”

“definitely.”

“i’m sorry about that too. that was wrong of me to say, especially in front of everyone, and—”

“apologies later,” azzi interrupts, makes a start for her room. “first, hold me until i fall asleep because your horrible cooking skills woke me up way too damn early and i’m exhausted.”

paige smirks. “whatever you say, princess.”

༉‧₊˚✧

it works again

“i actually have to get my own gas now.” azzi stares at her fuel gage in disbelief. the red tick is dangerously close to the empty line.

“your life must be so hard,” sarah mocks.

“fuck.” azzi starts her engine. “you’re coming with me.”

“bro, let me go home.”

“don’t think we can even make it back to storrs with this.” azzi drives to the nearest gas station. as she waits for the tank to fill up, she snaps a quick photo of the pump and texts paige.

azzi: can’t even remember the last time i had to do this💔

paige: i’m sorry baby

paige: wish i could be there ☹️

Apple cash payment: $100

azzi: for?

paige: gas

paige: and having to pump it yourself

paige: it’s a cruel world we live in

azzi: sometimes i feel like u think im poor

paige: naaa

paige: you know i love to spoil you

azzi hops back in the car, ten times lighter. tank full, lunch paid for, loved up by her perfect, hot girlfriend. we’re so up, she thinks.

“we can go home now?” sarah asks brightly.

“nope.” azzi pops the p. “we’re getting lunch. paige’s treat.”

“no way.” sarah snorts. “she’s like putty in your hands. bet you could ask her for a thousand and she’d immediately send it, no questions.”

“na, i’m sure she’d say something,” azzi replies. “she knows i don’t need her money.”

sarah’s eyes gleam. “i’ll bet you fifty that paige will send it with no hesitation.”

azzi hesitates. a thousand is a lot—surely paige would ask what it was for, if she even sent it. “alright,” she agrees. “fifty.” she pulls out her phone, sarah huddling over her shoulder.

azzi: P can you send $1000

azzi: please

they wait for a couple seconds. text bubbles pop up before they disappear again, and an apple cash message appears on the screen. Paige Bueckers sent you $1500.

paige: have fun baby

“well, well, well,” sarah snickers. “pay up.” shaking her head, she mutters under her breath, “i should’ve bet a hundred.”

azzi groans and sends $1450 back to paige.

[kxsagi]

Hello \(^O^)/

can i make request about babydaddy bllk? (specifically sae my man🫦🫦🫦🥵🥵🔥🔥) plis? thank u, love u!

“𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲?”

a/n: i want a baby with isagi

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, bachira meguru, karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

isagi printed out a parenting checklist before the baby was even born. laminated it. color-coded it. 

but the second he saw his baby all swaddled up and blinking like a sleepy potato burrito? brain: gone. 

he cried. actual tears. like he just watched a world cup final. 

calls you “mama” now in the softest voice ever. “mamaaaa, guess who rolled over today??? he’s basically an olympian.” 

obsessed with milestones. he’s got a whole spreadsheet labeled “baby boy's stats 🍼🔥” 

but he’s also lowkey dumb about baby stuff like: “so uh… does the soft spot ever get… hard? do we water it?” 

keeps trying to teach the baby soccer, but ends up with a pacifier in his shoe. 

one time he fell asleep while burping him and you walked in on them both passed out upright on the couch like twin corpses. 

narrates diaper changes like a sports analyst: “... and he’s going in for the wipe– OH! a rogue kick to the chest!! what a move! daddy’s down!” 

his phone is 90% baby pictures. 10% baby videos. all with the caption “my reason 🥹❤️” 

itoshi rin

rin was fully ready to be a distant father at first. “i’ll provide. i don’t need to be all cuddly.” 

and then you placed your baby in his arms and she cooed and he just short-circuited. 

it was like watching the grinch’s heart grow three sizes. 

calls her “my girl” in the softest, lowest tone that could melt solid ice. 

constantly holding her like a bomb, but won’t let anyone else touch her. 

once got so mad at shidou for making her cry that you had to hold him back. 

reads her old european literature like a bedtime story. “you will grow up to be smarter than everyone. daddy will make sure.” 

if you catch him holding her while his forehead is pressed to hers and his eyes are closed? girl just marry him again. 

baby girl is the only one allowed to pull his hair and survive. she once drooled in his mouth and he just went: “guess we’re sharing fluids now. that’s fine.” 

itoshi sae

the man had your baby's name engraved into a cartier bracelet before you gave birth. 

pulled up to the maternity ward in sunglasses and said “is she cute yet?” 

was not prepared. she opened her eyes and he looked like he saw god. 

“oh. she’s expensive.” 

immediately takes 300 photos. hires a private photographer. commissions a painting. 

teaches her to ignore annoying people by giving them side-eye. “see that, princess? that’s called judgment. you’ll be great at it.” 

baby cries? sauntering over like: “let’s go buy you something to fix that.” 

sleeps with her lying directly on his chest like a designer accessory. refuses to move even if his arm goes numb. 

the type to whisper “daddy loves you more than anyone” while handing her a birkin rattle. 

if she doesn’t like a toy, he fires the toy manufacturer. 

nagi seishiro

this baby is attached to him like velcro. she’s in his hoodie. in his lap. on his head. 

once you turned around and found him asleep with the baby inside his shirt like a kangaroo pouch. 

naps together so much you start calling them "the nap twins." 

sings lullabies in a monotone voice, but somehow she loves it. 

“go to sleep… don’t cry… too much energy… daddy’s tired…” 

lets her chew on his hair and just goes, “guess she’s teething. that’s chill.” 

can play video games with one hand while cradling her in the other. 

she slapped him once and he said “valid.” 

if you try to take her during nap time, he just pulls her closer and goes “no. i need her warmth.” 

mikage reo

bought a baby rolex. “she can’t tell time yet, but she deserves luxury.” 

his baby bag has compartments for: wipes, diapers, and emergency gold bars. 

hired an interior designer for the nursery. baby has a chandelier. 

she sneezed once and he booked an appointment at the pediatrician, a private clinic, and a homeopath. 

constantly filming her like a vlogger. “hi guys, today baby mikage is eating puréed mango for the first time! say hi, princess!!” 

baby girl sneezes: “bless you, heiress of my heart.” 

choreographs her little dances and makes everyone clap. 

keeps getting you matching outfits like “family slay day!” 

secretly worries she’ll grow up and marry someone who isn’t rich enough. “i need to build a moat. maybe a baby bodyguard.” 

shidou ryusei

was banned from diaper duty at first because he kept yelling “SHE POOPED OUT A WHOLE GROWN MAN???” 

but then she gripped his pinky and he turned into a puppy. 

does backflips to make her laugh. if she cries, he starts barking. 

teaches her nonsense like “kick anyone who doesn’t give you snacks.” 

paints her nails bright pink and yells “SHE’S A PRINCESS, YOU GOT A PROBLEM?!” 

accidentally gave her a sip of juice laced with chili powder (he forgot it was his). cried harder than she did. 

tucks her in like: “sweet dreams, little menace. bite someone in your dreams for me.” 

calls you “hot mama” in front of the baby 24/7. 

secretly practices baby sign language so he can be her favorite parent. 

kaiser michael

refuses to call her “the baby.” only refers to her as “my heir.” 

makes her little crowns out of tinfoil. 

got matching custom jerseys that say “KAISER 1” and “KAISER 2.” 

tried to teach her german as a newborn like: “repeat after me: ich bin besser.” 

brags about how good her genes are like she’s a show dog. 

doesn’t let people hold her unless they “pass the vibe check.” 

if she so much as frowns, he goes into “who hurt you?? WHO DID THIS??” mode. 

took a video of her yawning and edited it with dramatic music and captions like “a queen awakens.” 

if you fall asleep with the baby? he tucks a blanket over both of you and whispers “my whole world.” 

bachira meguru

his baby is his sidekick. he calls him “bug” or “my gremlin.” 

built him a mini art studio with finger paint, sparkly glue, and glitter that will haunt your floors forever. 

they have their own handshake. it ends with both of them blowing raspberries. 

turns every stroller walk into an imaginary mission. “we are astronauts now. avoid the sidewalk cracks, those are lava.” 

sings to him like it’s a concert. “this one’s for my no-teeth king!” 

gets emotional when he smiles at him. “he chose me. i’m so special.” 

if he’s cranky? he draws a mustache on his face and says “sir? your mood, please.” 

the baby once fell asleep drooling on his face and he whispered, “art.” 

karasu tabito

baby strapped to his chest in a carrier? check. sunglasses on her face? check. dad swagger? activated. 

calls her “little homie.” 

teaches her fake vocabulary. “this is a snack. say it with me: schmackle.” 

carries her around the grocery store like a backpack and narrates everything in an announcer voice. 

uses baby socks as puppets to do stand-up comedy. 

if she drools on him, he’s like “she baptized me. i am born anew.” 

has a million nicknames for her: booger bean, stink nugget, boss baby, lil’ goblin. 

accidentally taught her to blow raspberries after every kiss. now she does it to everyone. 

will 100% defend her baby drama. 

“your baby stole her toy? that’s WAR, karen.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[snowstormarts]

Cuddling time [Date Everything x GN Reader]

Just some cuddling with the boys, headcanons maybe & co. I'm just dipping my claws in the water here so don't expect too much since its been a few years since I last wrote anything really ^^"

Also feel free to send me ideas or requests, I have a hard time coming up ideas to write for (which will be probably a bit obvious, sorry) but have fun reading, reblogs & likes are appreciated

[Feat: Daemon, Chance, Hector, Mateo & Dirk/Clarence]

[Dividers by ithemes]

🐾 Mateo Manta 🐾

- His arms wrap around your waist, they fit perfectly around you as he pulls you closer letting your head rest on his soft, warm chest. Not to mentione that if you're still cold or need something weighted he will gladly share his jacket with you that smells like Vanilla & Tasslehounds

- I headcanon that the Jacket he wears is weighted like a weighted blanket, which can help with his Anxiety

- Once you got all cozy he will tell you about his day, be it the chaos his/the other residents critters have caused while under his care or what new stray he had found. And of course he listens to what you have to share, laughing, nodding along & hugging you when it was an especially hard/overwhelming day. Blocking out all the stress for the time being, letting you be pulled into a wall of pure comfort & safety

- His Critter family is of course, also here in the room, you can't keep them away from you guys. Stitch & Davi sleep at your feet, curled up against each other while Sprite lays on top of Mateos head

🪲☣ Daemon ☣🪲

- Seeing as he is a Game Bug, he hasn't experienced a lot besides breaking a few game scenes and trying to scare you, so when you offered to cuddle with him, he simply just said "sure" and went along with it, not expecting much

- But the second you cuddled up to him on the bed you realized quickly that he was quiet stiff, laying straight on the bed staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't quiet sure what to do seeing as the scrapped files didn't have cuddling codes, so you would need to lend a hand...or two...

- But once he got it down, it was the strangest yet comfiest cuddle session you ever had. Sometimes besides the arms around you midsection you would feel other arms carassing you, massaging your shoulders as you felt his lips on your neck, forehead and back even though he was facing you, never daring to look away from you

- He also produces a silent, whitenoise-humming sound, so if you ever have problems sleeping he's the man to go to...If you can ignore his glowing, white eyes that will stare at you the whole time

🎲 Chance 🎲

- Can be the little or big spoon, he's quiet happy with either or. As a little spoon he will talk about the characters he has for G&G, their storys, motivations, design ideas and so much more. While as a Big spoon he will tell you a story, whatever you want it can be adventurous, a horror story or just a fairytale so you can relax while he fills the silence

- He will always cuddle up to you, either burrying himself into your chest or shoulder or curling himself around you. Cocooning you into a save hold, legs drapped over yours as he rests his forehead against the back of your neck

- Makes the coolest pillowforts, the pillow walls are super sturdy somehow and he even got some fairy lights. Overtime he will build them out to a point where they basically become less of a pillowfort and more of a pillowcave with a secret back entrance & snack hoard

💨❄ Hector ❄💨

- Poor man will be too anxious to leave the attic at first, he showed himself to you and that did help with some of his self-esterm issues but not all of them. So you decided to build a little nest in the attic with him, so you could still get some cuddling experience with him

- He's a great cuddle buddy, he can change his body heat to whatever you desire which means even when it's in the middle of summer you can enjoy a good cuddle session in his arms without breaking a sweat

- He's a small spoon through and through, he curls up into a ball (much like a cat) and gets as close as he can without making you uncomfortable. He will also pull a blanket over himself to stay hidden because of his never ending reddening face [He will be gently teased about it by some of the others in the Attic]

👕🕸 Dirk/Clarence 🫧👕

- Dirk is a chaotic cuddler, he will drap his arm and head over your chest and use you like a cuddly bed plushy. He also sleeps without a shirt on so you can run your fingers across his back, admire the tattoos he has, draw shapes across his body that will have him teasingly ask you what you are doing. Though be warned he will retaliate if you do somehow find a ticklish spot on him, cuddle time can wait that man would be on a tickle war path

- Clarence on the other hand is a more neatly cuddler, he will pull you to his side and let you rest on his shoulder. On the otherside of you is of course the Batman Bodypillow, keeping your back protected from not only the cold but also nightmares [Acording to him at least]

- Dirk always brings a plushy around that you had washed once but never got back, you thought you lost it somehwhere but nope he simply "borrrowed" it and then hid it behind Washford whenever you came around. It was one item that brought him comfort after he and Harper had a rough fight, the lil' guy was basically his vent buddy while he was with her

- He has a solid grip, no matter if he's in a dirty or clean, once he has you in his arms it will be a feat to escape from him. And don't even try waking him up, that man sleeps like a rock...

[marmota-b]

This!

Also I recently found an excellent brain hack for room cleanliness maintenance which is to have trash receptacles EVERYWHERE. If I have to stop what I'm doing to go to a trash can to throw something out, the most likely outcome is that I don't throw that thing out and it immediately becomes part of the background, building up the mess. If I don't have to pause whatever I'm currently hyperfocusing on because the trash receptacle is right there, I do throw a much higher percentage of trash into a trash receptacle. Oh, and I did intentionally use the word "receptacle" - it doesn't have to be a traditional trash can. In fact, I think it works better when, in some cases, it isn't. You want these on elevated flat surfaces, too, not just standing on the floor.

Example: My sister made me a nice leeettle box that sits on my nightstand, and all the itty bitty bits that used to end up directly on the nightstand (including yarn and thread offcuts from doing crafts in bed) go into it.

We've started calling this sort of thing "removing mental blocks" which may or may not be an official thing, I have no idea. But whatever makes you stop and forget what you were doing / end up in an executive disfunction trap, find the root cause that makes your brain freeze and find a way around it. (I think this was, in fact, advice I found on Tumblr a while ago.)

For example, to get back to the original advice - one bit at a time is a great way to do big tasks because the mental block is the idea of the big task, and I guess also the boredom / wandering brain that inevitably happens when having to focus on one thing for too long.

So, now I think about it, "removing" is a slightly misleading word - the block is still there, you're certainly not trying to force your way through it, you're figuring out how to work with it.

Another example: I realised the layout of my room also plays into it. Again, if I have to weave around too many things to do something seemingly simple like put clean laundry away, it ends up somewhere else than it should. I haven't mastered this one yet, but it's definitely something I'm keeping in mind now. Sometimes all you have to do to get started is to move a piece of furniture out of your way. I have one bedstand / shelf on wheels, and I rather want to add them to more of my things because it's great to be able to move it easily, even just a little bit. My brain flits from thing to thing, my room should be able to do the same, sort of thing.

I'm bringing all this up because realising all this overall made the idea of cleaning my room a bit less daunting. It's still a mess, and it's still often daunting, but it's overall more of an organised mess more often, and it makes it easier to do the little tasks that add up... because sometimes it even makes it sort of fun, because instead of just a chore it's a bit of a... puzzle game?

Sometimes I also give myself rewards to look forward to after the partial steps. 😁

OH, and I started writing down things I have done, instead of just writing down things to do. To Do lists are daunting, and crossing things out / deleting them from the list is too anticlimactic, at least for my brain. Have Done lists are much more satisfying. So maybe write down the things you have already cleaned / fixed as you go, to see you have not been unproductive even if your eyes deceive you into thinking your room remains unchanged and your pile of Stuff To Do is still daunting! 💛

If you're new to this way of thinking, it might also help you break things down into manageable small steps in the future. Which is what I started doing with my To Do lists. Something like "wash windows" becomes, instead, "Wash windows: remove stuff from windowsill - prepare cleaning products and tools - wash windows - return stuff to windowsill". "Wash floor" becomes (usually just mentally in this case, but still) "sweep floor - prepare water with detergent and floor rag - wash floor". You can even give yourself a bit of time to recharge between the steps! It helps! (It can also mean you forget what you were doing, but even if you do, steps have been made and you have moved forward in the quest. Which is a lot easier to see if you make it explicit to yourself.)

P.S. In case you're wondering, I got the idea of breaking tasks down into steps from sewing pattern instructions. 🤣 "Sew blouse" is a daunting task. "Cut pattern out - interface facings - sew darts - sew this seam, etc" is a quest that can be stretched over years, and at the end you still have a finished blouse.

trying to clean your room can be really daunting and stressful, but you don't have to clean the whole room all in one go.

If you pick up just one thing off the floor, wipe away a little bit of dust, take any dishes to the sink, or anything of the sort, then you have successfully cleaned a bit of your room! It doesn't have to be done all in one burst and every little dent you make will result in a slightly cleaner room

[criminalyapping]

due for trouble | the secret’s out

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: finally time for some other beloved pitt characters to join the fray!! also can you tell i’m not the most knowledgeable about how buying a house actually work? bc i can lol

next time is baby shower!!

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, age gap, language

< part 12 | part 14 >

At work, most of Jack’s personal life remains a mystery. He considers himself close to Robby, being genuine friends outside of the walls of the hospital. The others, not so much.

The bottom line is that Jack’s a private guy, and doesn’t want to air out his business to be discussed and speculated about down every hallway of the hospital.

One thing he does love, though, is the feeling of smug satisfaction he feels when he surprises people.

“Ellis, Shen,” he calls to his night-shift coworkers as he sees them, backpacks on and ready to leave early in the morning.

They both turn towards him, waiting.

“What are you guys doing on Saturday afternoon?” he asks.

They both open their mouths to speak, but Jack interrupts them before they can make a sound.

“Well, you’re invited to a baby shower, so actually don’t do anything,” he instructs with a carefully crafted look on neutrality on his face. “My house, 1pm.” he finishes with a smile.

The two doctors in front of him gape, questioning looks on their faces as they stare him down. He keeps his smile bright.

Shen snaps out of it first, unflappable as always.

“Cool man, I’ll be there.” he agrees.

Ellis shakes her head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I’ll need a few more details,” she says sarcastically, “what?”

“A baby shower.” Jack reiterates.

“Yeah, I got that. For who?” she asks.

“Typically they’re kind of for a baby.” he replies matter of factly.

“Oh my god,” she mutters under her breath. “Who’s pregnant?” she asks.

“My girlfriend.” he tells her with another smile.

“You-“ she stutters, “since when do you-?” she stops herself. Sighing and rolling out her tense shoulders. “Whatever, I’ll be there.” she agrees.

“Awesome, thanks, I’ll send you guys my address.” he smiles, leaving them standing there with unanswered questions as he walks back toward the hub, looking for Robby.

He finds him, hands on his hips as he observes the boards. They had already done turnover, so the ED is alight with movement and all the day shift doctors.

“Hey man,” Jack greets as he claps Robby on the back.

“Hey,” Robby greets as he takes on his glasses.

Dana looks up from her computer, eyeing Jack skeptically.

“You better get out of here Jack, we know you and sunlight don’t get along.” she jokes.

“Yeah, yeah; I’m getting better about it, though.” he says, pointing at her.

“Baby shower, Saturday at one, can you make it?” he asks Robby.

His friend nods his head, “Yeah, yeah I’ll get it covered.” he agrees.

“Invite whoever isn’t working from day shift, just send ‘em my address, they’re all invited.” he tells Robby.

Dana slides herself along the counter closest to the two, looking at Jack expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, “I think my ears are playing tricks on me. Baby shower?” she asks.

Jack nods. “Obviously, you’re invited too, I hope you’re not working Saturday.”

“I’m not.” she says, deadpan. “You’re having a baby?” she asks, a wide smile crawling over her face.

“Sure am.” he confirms, a matching smile on his.

“Well I’ll be…” she trails off with a grin.

“Invite the people,” he says, turning back to Robby, “and come early to set up.” he tells him.

“Aye aye, captain.” he agrees.

Jack turns and leaves, watching as Dana’s eyes turn to Robby with a look like she’s about to sink her information-seeking claws into him and not let go.

He heads home, eats a quick breakfast, and falls asleep hard.

He’s in the trenches of trying to buy that house, so he wakes up earlier than he wants to be able to exchange some messages with the working public while the day isn’t almost over. Working night shift makes doing normal human tasks much more difficult.

He’s able to exchange a few texts with you while you work, smiling as you tell him about your work problems.

You had sent Jack pictures of decorations you wanted for the baby shower, so he picks himself off the couch to head to a party supply store.

Yes honey, whatever you want honey, he had told you when you stressed to high heaven about how you would have enough time to get all the decorations, send invitations, cook the food, and set up for the party before Saturday came. He volunteered to get the decorations, assured you that you don’t need invitations, and asked what food you wanted to be catered, not made my either of them.

He enjoyed life much more when you weren’t stressed about things that didn’t need to be stressed about, and happily does whatever he can to take some of the stress off of your shoulders.

Today is shaping up to be a good day, he thinks, after dropping the baby bomb on his coworkers, successfully buying everything on the list you had made for him, and especially now, he things looking down at his phone.

He had just gotten an email from his realtor that his offer on the house was accepted, and he was now under contract. With how quickly that went, he has a sliver of hope that they could move in before they have their December baby.

Right now, Jack Abbot could not be happier with his life, and can’t wait for Saturday.

tagging: @michasia24 @veggieburgerwrites @bruher @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catmomstyles3 @qardasngan @fuckalrighty @rae4725 @beebeechaos @thatssomebadhat89 @cari87 @livingdeadblondequeen @wowitsafemale @neonpurplestars89-blog @starswin @celiacallsitcausal @vinceelser @glamorizethechaos @nerdgirljen @namgification @li22ie2017 @misshoneypaper @gardeniarose13 @peachjellyy @babybatreads @spooky-librarian-ghost @foolishseven @cannonindeez @wisps-writes-fic

let me know if you want a tag, too!

[dating-eveeything]

could you please do a dorian fic? Maybe angsty, since he seems to only want friendship, even tho trap dorian mentions being interested in fwb? (Like maybe the mc is interested in love but woukd take anything they can get with him) Or smth else, maybe end in comfort, its up to you, i just havent seen any fics of him!!

Ty 🫶

Can't go through with it

Summary: During a heated encounter with Trap Dorian, you try your best to be respectful of all the other Dorian's boundaries

Featuring: Dorian (specifically Trap Dorian, but others are mentioned)

Fic type: slight angst(?), slight lime (making out, some grinding) in the beginning, and comfort in the end

No specific pronouns used, no use of y/n

Thank you for being my first request <3

He kept you pushed against the wall, hand gently caressing your torso as yours rest on his bare shoulders. The heated kisses he's offering you are nothing but pleasurable, if your quiet moans were anything to go by. Both of your bodies were running hot as his crotch grinded on yours, one of his hands holding your leg up against him to get better access. It was hot, he was hot.

But there was a nagging issue in the back of your head, one not even this impromptu make out session could stop you from thinking about. And Trap Dorian could somehow tell, somehow feel how slightly unfocused you were. "Hey," he mutters, raising his hand from your torso to your face "you alright?" His tone was nothing but sweet as he asked.

With a shake of your head you pull your hands off of him and shake your leg free from his grip, now back to standing with both. He still had you trapped on the wall, but seeing how you were letting yourself go from him he takes a small step back to give you more space to breathe. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Your eyes made contact with his, and for a second you wanted to ignore it all and go back to making out with him; it would be easier that way wouldn't it?

"it's just..." You begin, looking off to the side, leaning into his palm "I don't think it's right." Trap Dorian raises a brow in confusion "What's not right? Did I do something wrong? Cross a boundary by accident?" His question hit too close to home, yet somehow missed the door. "It's not you crossing boundaries. Dorian, it's me who did" the shameful look on your face makes Trap Dorian's heart burn, his hand coming up so he can cup your face with both and make you look at him.

"what do you mean?" His black eyes searching for the answer he somehow doesn't know.

"The other Dorian's..." You begin, hearing his breath hitch for just a moment, "they don't want this. I can't... I can't do this knowing you're all sort of like- I don't know, a hive mind or something." There's a pause, the air so thick you felt like you were going to choke on it before Trap Dorian starts laughing.

His laughing reverberates onto you, his hands shaking and bringing your face along for the ride. "A hivemind? Is that what people think of us as?" He asks between huffs and some chuckles. It's obvious he's trying to calm down from the surprise gigglefest. "I don't know! You guys all know the same stuff somehow, what am I supposed to assume??" You press, trying to keep the conversation serious while also hiding your embarrassment.

"Oh, sweetheart" Trap Dorian pressing his hands closer to your face, almost squishing your cheeks together in the process ",I'm touched you care so much about the others feelings." And you think that's where he'll stop, that he'll try and continue the make out without any other comment, but he continues. "We do sort of.. Share our thoughts- well, not really. We all just sort of... Know? But we are, sort of, different people." His explanation is confusing and he knows it, shrugging a few times as it's really hard for him to explain it. "I want this, want you, but if you really don't want to- in fear of making the others uncomfortable somehow, I won't force you." He leans his forehead on yours, eyes closing to revel in your warmth, feeling your breath stutter across his face. "Shame too, you're a real good kisser." He whispers that last part, getting a quiet laugh out of you followed by a 'thanks' just barely audible.

The two of you sort of stay like that, leaning foreheads together and simply enjoying the others presence and hold.

[misctf]

There's this straight guy at my job that has just the juiciest ass. it's a shame he's straight if only he was a bit more open minded he could put his assets to good use

"Dude! I can't believe they closed the gym next to my place." You overheard Alec saying one day, "Where am I supposed to go now?"

Alec... god why did he have to be straight? Good personality, killer smile, and an ass that was truly wasted on a straight man. If you had an ass like that... or if any of your hook-ups did... You couldn't help but let your fantasies run wild. Shame about his gym though... but than an idea popped into your head.

"Aw man, that sucks about your gym closing," you said, and before you could second guess yourself, you blurted out, "Hey, I actually have a great gym recommendation if you're looking for a new place!"

Alec raised an eyebrow curiously, "Oh yeah? What's the place called?"

"It's called Flex Fitness, downtown near the park. Really nice facilities, good crowd... and it's super LGBTQ+ friendly too." you added casually, gauging his reaction.

Alec's eyebrows shot up and he hesitated, looking slightly uncomfortable. 

"LGBTQ+ friendly? As in..."

"I mean, yeah, it's popular with the gay community." you confirmed with a shrug, "But seriously, it's an awesome gym regardless."

Alec looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged, "I mean, I guess I'm open-minded enough to try it out. Can't hurt, right? As long as the equipment is good." He flashed you a grin, "Thanks for the tip, bro. I might check it out this weekend."

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe you'd get to catch a glimpse of him working out. The thought made you smile- guess admiring from a far would have to do.

____________________

The following Monday, as you walked into the office, you did a double take when you saw Alec. He wore a fitted short-sleeve polo shirt that clung to his muscular torso, showcasing his toned forearms and biceps. His pants were also much tighter, highlighting the curve of his ass and the thickness of his thighs.

"Morning!" Alec greeted you cheerfully, turning to face you fully. The movement made his pecs strain against the fabric of his shirt, "How was your weekend?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your gaze from roaming over his newly accentuated physique.

"Uh, hey man. Weekend was good. Yours?"

"It was pretty great actually," Alec said, leaning back against his desk, "Started going to that gym you recommended - Flex Fitness? Holy shit, it's amazing. Top notch equipment and the atmosphere is dope." He flexed almost imperceptibly, making his biceps pop, "I've been hitting it hard and I think it's already paying off. What do you think?" Alec asked with a playful wink.

You felt your face flush as you struggled to maintain eye contact with Alec, your gaze continually being drawn to the way his clothes hugged every sculpted inch of him. 

"Y-yeah, you're looking great man. Love the haircut" you managed to stammer out, "The gym must be really good for you."

Alec grinned, pleased by your reaction, "Just the haircut?" He smirked and punched your arm playfully, "Between you and me, I think the 'gay-friendly' vibe is pretty cool too. Makes me feel... appreciated, you know?" You nod lamely, "Anyway, got to get back to these reports. I have a date with Amy later and need to get out of here on time."

____________________

Later that night, while browsing social media aimlessly, your thumb scrolled past the familiar blue logo of Flex Fitness and immediately stopped dead in its tracks. Staring back at you from the screen was none other than your coworker Alec, fresh from a workout session judging by the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. 

"Welcome to our newest member @aleclikes_lifting and thanks for this AMAZING post-workout selfie!" read the caption beneath the photo, "Check out that body - look at THAT ASS, amirite guys? 🍑 We're so lucky to have this hunk join our family at #FlexFitness. Give it up for the BEAST!"

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the notification pop up - Alec had commented on the post! With shaking fingers, you clicked to read:

"A huge THANK YOU to everyone at @flex_fitness for making this straight boy feel SO welcome and accepted! 🏳️‍🌈💖 Never thought I’d love working out this much! Hope you like my post-leg day selfie."

His comment was flooded with likes and supportive replies from the gym’s followers, many expressing how happy they were to have him there, some expressing they were hoping to see more of him soon…

____________________

It was a day later when Alec approached you at your desk. His clothes seemed tighter. His perfect ass straining against his dress pants.

"Hey there stud!" Alec greeted you brightly as he approached your desk. You couldn't help but notice his eyes seemed off... glazed over... no gears turning behind them. "Gotta say, sending me to that Flex Fitness was the best thing you ever did for me!" You blinked in shock, noticing how Alec swayed his hips subtly as he leaned against your desk, "Girl, I have NEVER been treated like royalty before. The whole vibe is ELECTRIC!" Alec gestured expressively, seemingly high on his newfound fitness fame, "They took me in, loved on me, praised me… I feel like a whole new man!" His tongue clicked disapprovingly, "Too bad none of these uptight prudes here appreciate perfection when they see it!"

"Alec are you...?" Suddenly, as if realizing how he sounded, Alec's eyes widened and you noticed his eyes shift... no longer glazed over.

"Whoa... that was... I don't know what came over me, man." He ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered and confused, "I gotta... I gotta go. Something's not right, I feel all..." Alec shook his head vigorously, as if trying to clear it. Without finishing his sentence, he turned on his heel and hurried away, leaving you stunned and perplexed.

____________________

Late that evening, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, another post from Alec caught your eye. The image was a close-up shot of his bare ass, perfectly rounded globes on full display. He wore a tiny pair of pink briefs that left little to the imagination, the thin fabric disappearing between his cheeks.

"Shoutout to @flex_fitness for helping me embrace my true self! Alec wrote in the caption. Something big is coming soon… stay tuned! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈"

As you read further, your eyes widened in shock. Alec had tagged Bare Essentials, a popular local gay strip club, in his post! Scrolling through the hundreds of thirsty comments, one stood out:

"Damn girl, you finally come out and play on our side? 😜 Are you, like, actually gay now or what?"

Alec replied instantly: "Duh sis, OBVIOUSLY! Couldn't hide this fabulously gay ass any longer. 🍑 Time to let my freak flag fly at Bare Essentials later! Who wants to be my first dance partner? ☺️🎉"

Your eyes widen. Was this real? What the fuck happened? You quickly text Alec asking him what the happened. Awkwardly congratulating him on coming out. Within seconds, he replies.

"Thank you for everything. I owe you big time for introducing me to Flex Fitness. Turns out, it helped me discover my TRUE self! 🌈 I'm officially out and proud now. Quit that boring job and ended things with Amy. She didn't deserve the real me anyway. I want YOU to meet me at Bare Essentials tomorrow night, 10pm. Let's celebrate together, cutie!"

Your eyes widen in disbelief. Something was wrong... there was no way... yet you couldn't help but pull up Alec's latest thirst trap. Taking in the sight of his impressive ass. Fuck...

____________________

The next evening, you nervously entered Bare Essentials, your heart pounding as you navigated the dimly lit hallway to the locker room. You pushed open the door and spotted Alec immediately, hunched over in front of a locker.

"Alec? Is that really you?" you sputtered, hardly recognizing your formerly strait-laced coworker. The piercing... the tattoo above his ass... the slight stubble...

Alec spun around, a brilliant smile spreading across his face, "I'm so glad you came!" He enveloped you in a tight hug, his bare chest pressing against you, "I know, I know, it's a lot to take in. But I feel so free, so alive!"

He turned slowly, letting you drink in the changes. The new piercings glinted in his ears and a tattoo adorned the smooth skin above his pert ass.

"I got these yesterday, to celebrate my new life. My authentic self." Yet you noticed his eyes were glazed over again... this time more evidently... not a single gear turning in that brain of his...

Alec shimmied into a glittery G-string, the scrap of material barely covering his manhood.

"So, whaddya think of the new me? Ready to watch me slay on stage?" He winked salaciously, striking a pose.

"Alec, I..." You do your best to keep eyes from glancing down at that incredible ass, "Something isn't..." But the words die in your throat as he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"After the show, I'll find you. My place is close by." His voice dripping with lust, "Now, what were you gonna say?"

You gulp, your dick straining in your shorts, "No-nothing... I..." His lips collide with yours and you stifle a moan as you lean into the kiss.

"See you later..." He breaks the kiss and winks.

You can only watch as he saunters away to the stage. His ass jiggling with every step. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. But later that night, as he threw you into bed, you weren't going to ruin the moment.

[lush-escape]

This is Me Trying

pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

synopsis: your friend takes you out to a street race to meet her boyfriend and his brothers

a/n: street racing Jason Todd won't leave my brain. I'm going to do my best to keep reader as ambiguous as possible. Updates will probably be slow between work but I will also be posting this to my AO3 which i will link here. I hope you enjoy ♡

next: part 2

“I just don't see the entertainment in it, is all.” You try to explain to your friend. She had finally, finally, dragged you to one of her boyfriend's street races. You could see the appeal to them. Hot people racing dangerously and illegally in cars or on motorcycles, what's not to like? Aside from the fact that you only get to see them take off and then they're gone. A whole ten seconds of oggling.

“It's not just the race,” your friend smiles as she drags you along the sidewalk. It's dark out, almost midnight already, groups of people walking alongside you to the meet up.

“Its also the after party. You will have fun. I promise. Maybe you'll meet someone.” She shrugs, you roll your eyes. And yet you follow along like a puppy dog to humor her all the same.

It's crowded, almost overly so. Suffocating in a way. But your friend finds her boyfriend easily like she has a GPS radar on him. He's handsome, because of course he is. Dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, dark brown skin. Dick, she said his name was. This is your first official time meeting him.

He's friendly and polite and his smile was bright enough to power up Superman if he really put his mind to it. You doubt it would be hard for him. You stand off to the side a bit awkwardly as the two talk for a second, catching up. You hear him mention his brothers.

There's more of him?

You can hear your friend and Dick talking quietly to each other before you catch;

“Yeah, I mean.. Jay's here tonight. I could introduce them.” Dick mumbles with a smile and you notice him burying his face into the side of your friend's hair. Ugh.

“Jason?” A younger voice pipes up, you turn your head to take in the newcomers. “If you hate your friend you could just say that, there is no need for torture.” Dick laughs before introducing his younger brother, Damian.

He says they're adopted but you find that hard to believe when they look almost identical. Aside from the fact Damian has green eyes instead of blue. Both black hair and dark skinned. Damian speaks more properly, you notice, with a hint of an accent you can't quite place.

“I dunno man,” another speaks. Tim, you find out his name is. “Jason's been in a pissy mood all day. I wouldn't-”

“It's fine, it's fine! It'll be good for him. He needs to make new friends.” Dick insists.

They're talking about you as if you're not even there - not giving you a chance to speak for yourself on if you want to meet this Jason person or not. Your friend laughs. You glare.

Damian and Tim share a look before shaking their heads and that doesn't look promising at all. You're regretting your agreement to come along but your friend places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I've met Jason before, he's nice.” But you know what her definition of “nice” is. It's far different than your own.

“Yeah, mhm.” You respond with a half hearted smile.

But the group walks further into the crowd. More cars and motorcycles come into view. You learn that Dick races with a 1979 trans am, one that he rebuilt with his brothers. The five of you walk by it and it's impressive. You find out that Tim is, apparently, still hesitant on racing while Damian claims he's too young - Dick teased him for being scared which earns him a chop to his throat.

‘If Jason is like these three then he can't be so bad.’ you think to yourself.

Until you see him. The small group stands in front of a heavily modded black and red Honda CBR600RR. It's nice. Clean. You stare at the bike until a gruff voice cuts you out of your thoughts.

“What, Dick?” Jason's expression is one of pure irritation as he tunes his bike.

He's tall and built like a brick shit house. Your mouth almost goes dry. Black hair with a white tuft in the front with a broad chest, beefy biceps, and piercing blue eyes. Oh boy.

“Just showing the angel around,” Dick slings an arm around your friend's shoulder. “And her friend.” Dick gestures to you. Tim and Damian step aside, a parting of the sea. You stand silently, almost dumbfounded, until you find your voice again.

“Uh, hey-” You try.

“No. I don't want to talk to people.” He cuts you off.

Oh.

“Told you,” Damian snickers quietly to Tim with a crooked smirk who shakes his head with a snort of laughter that he tries to cover with his hand. Your friend gives you a sympathetic look.

Great.

“C'mon, Jay. Don't be rude, I was trying to introduce- ” Dick tries again.

“Ain't got time. Race starts soon.” Jason grunts as he stands to his full height and holy shit is he intimidating. “Sorry, little birdie.” He comments as his gaze sizes you up. But he turns away before you can even get a word in.

‘Nice my ass.’ You think to yourself with an eye roll off to the side. Dick shoots you a sympathetic smile before he leads you and your friend away from Jason back towards his trans am.

“Worry not. That was him being polite.” Damian turns his smirk to you. Lovely.

It's a warm night in Gotham already and the crowd of people definitely doesn't help. “So it's always like this?” You ask your friend as you watch groups of people walk by laughing and talking. She nods in response.

“It's fun! I didn't think the racing scene in Gotham was this big but it kinda makes sense I guess.”

“I never even knew there was a ‘racing scene’.” You comment in response which gets a small laugh from Dick.

“Oh yeah, the scene’s huge here. It's fun and illegal, two things that every Gothamite loves.” He jokes.

“So, do you race for fun or.. is there a pool involved?” You ask Dick. The most knowledge you had about street racing was from the Fast and the Furious movies.

“For fun!” Dick beams. “Okay, well- winning the pot is nice, obviously. But personally? I do it for fun.” The answer makes sense to you. Dick gives off the vibes of an adrenaline junkie with the energy of a golden retriever.

“And Jason?” You ask, pretending to simply be curious. Dick stops for a second before he smiles at you. He looks at you like he knows something you don't.

“He races-...” Dick cuts himself off, his eyes roam off to the side as he chooses his words.

“Jason races to forget.” Tim finished for Dick who simply nods in response.

“Cliche.” You respond.

“Very.” Damian agrees. He looks less than impressed. “For him racing is simply a way to focus solely on the rush. Nothing else.”

[whatifitis]

♡ to build a home - LN 4 ♡

Summary: You're beginning to build a life with Lando. One of the steps you were excited for the most was building a home with him. So when it's time to finally start furnishing the house... let's just say we're glad everyone got to keep their fingers.

WC: 950

CW: fluff, two idiots in love trying to use their shared braincell..., not proofread

-=+=-

It’s finally time! A chapter in your life you were waiting for for so long. Not just building a life with your favorite person, but building a home with them too. You and Lando recently bought a home together and were excited to finally decorate it after having renovated it yourselves. 

The two of you (mainly just you) spent ages on pinterest and various furniture websites, trying to put together an aesthetically pleasing home that could also make the environment feel homey and warm, something Lando had lived without for so long, well, at least until you joined his life. From the day you’d met, his life suddenly seemed brighter and warmer, like he’d been living in a plain, grey world prior. 

After some conflicts and adjustments to the mood board, you both had settled on some furniture that you both loved. Some things were ordered to the house while the others were picked up in the store by you and Lando. Lando, of course, insisted on helping because 1. It could be some nice bonding time since he’s away a lot and 2. He’s a “Big strong man” who can help you carry everything… In other words, he was afraid another man would come to your rescue and steal you away. But that would never happen. 

As you awaited everything you’d ordered, your home still only held a mattress, Lando’s gaming set up and boxes that were filled with various objects. One of those boxes held your collection of books. Your collection grew through the years as you got older, the collection expanding a lot quicker since you and Lan had started dating. Everytime he traveled without you, he would stop by a bookstore and get you a book. Whether it be a special edition of a book or just something he thought you’d like, he always came back with one to add to your collection. 

“Baby.” Lando called to you, jumping onto the mattress where you laid. 

“Baby.” you reply. 

“I was thinking-”

Sitting up fast and gasping, “You can do that?”

Lando’s jaw dropped, “Rude?! You know what? Nevermind.” begins to stand up to walk away, hiding a smile. 

“No! Come on, baby. I was joking. Tell me what you were thinking.” you say, pulling his arm so that he falls over top of you on the bed. 

“Fine. Only cause I love you so much.” the man says, receiving several kisses from you that scatter his face. 

“I love you too. Now, tell me.”

“Do you wanna go to ikea? I know we ordered most of the furniture or we’re going to some stores in person but we need to get some bookshelves for your books. We can get to building them today and putting away the books.” he says, moving to stand, “That way we can clear a few boxes and we’ll have more room for activities.” he says as he pranced around the room, twirling in the air as if he was a dancer. 

You laugh at the show before you, being eternally grateful for his existence and the chaos he brings with him, “That sounds amazing, Lan. We can go now. That way we’re not up late trying to put together the bookshelves.” 

“How hard can putting together bookshelves be?”

-=+=-

Lando and you took the opportunity to enjoy the day to the fullest. The sun was out so you guys drove with the windows down, blasting some Taylor Swift and singing your hearts out to each other. 

Although the drive was fun, the same can’t be said for the adventure in Ikea… The two of you got lost for 5 hours inside of the Ikea. And don’t ask how, cause not even God knows how the two of you got lost, though it might have to do with the fact that you guys share a brain cell…

Eventually, with the help of an Ikea employee, the two of you made it out to the other side, half tempted to kiss the ground once you saw the sun again. 

-=+=-

Finally, after a stop at Mcdonalds for some dinner, the two of you were safe and sound at home, cutting open the boxes that contained the pieces of wood to build the bookshelves. As Lando was unboxing the pieces, he began throwing things about, not paying any mind to what was going where. 

“Lan, calm down. We’re gonna lose the instructions if you keep doing that.” 

“Pish posh. Who needs instructions for bookshelves? It’s easy. I built that desk myself with no instructions.” he says, pointing to the desk that holds his gaming set up… the most basic table to have ever existed. 

You put your hands on your hips as you exhale loudly, “Lan, that table has 5 pieces total…”

“And? I still did it. Ya know why? Cause I’m super smart and super strong. I don’t need the instructions… Now… where do we start…?” he says as he rests his hands on his hips, squinting as the mess of screws and panels of wood he scattered on the floor. 

-=+=-

Building a bookshelf was NOT as easy and Lando claimed it would be. Not only were the instructions missing, but Lando kept insisting he didn’t need them. You tried to help him but it felt as if the pieces kept moving on their own. You felt like the boys in the Maze Runner, trying to figure out the pattern of the maze changes every night. 

It’s been two hours since anyones spoken… so it startles you when he breaks the silence, “How… is the bookshelf… inside out…?”

“It’s 9pm… and we still haven’t finished the first bookshelf… we have 6 more to build…”

“FUCK”

[wonderjanga2]

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Epilogue (here)

TW: Standard Zombie stuff. Y’know, eating people, but it’s only mentions in this one.

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, its “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Epilogue

You and Jill sat in two different… cells? The Batcave has cells. Lovely.

You watched Batman pace back and forth over and over while a whole gaggle of vigilantes stood behind him. The guy with the red helmet on looked familiar… did you and Jill see him after your guys’ first kill? Or was it before?

Everyone looked depressed. That was the easiest way to put it. All the bats and birds had the deepest frowns you could see, and Jill was also depressed, probably worried you both were going to be thrown in jail.

Speaking of which, why weren’t you?

“I can’t believe you!” The main bat yelled as he continued his pacing. “Killing six people, [Name], what is wrong with you?!”

You didn’t really know what to say to that so you just said the first thing that came to your mind. “I was hungry?”

“That doesn’t excuse it! Why didn’t you come to us?!” He continued his yelling.

“Why would I come to you…? How would I come to you? Did you want me to just stand in the street and wait until one of you noticed me or something?” You asked, confused.

“And now you’re being cheeky!” The man threw his hands up in anger. “[Name], you’re grounded! Forever!”

“Wha— you can’t ground me! You’re not my fucking dad!” You yelled back. The Batman was trying to ground you? What the hell? What, was he gonna keep you in this jail for the rest of your zombie life! You still don’t know how you both got here by the way. After he’d found you both on the train, you were both knocked out before you could register.

Batman gasped at that. Some of the birds did too.

You continued on with your words. “I don’t even live with you either!”

“Of course you do! Where else would you live? You’re seventeen and the apartment you used to store bodies in wasn’t used for any other purpose than that.”

“They live with me.” Jill spoke up, scratching her cheek. Honestly, how did the Batman of all people not know that?

Batman sharply turned his head to her. “You. What did you do to [Name]?”

“Excuse me?” Jill sounded startled.

“What did you do to them? [Name] would’ve never considered murder without an outside influence so what did you do?” It was Robin who spoke this time. The little kid drew his sword and slowly approached Jill’s cell.

You felt that if you and Jill could see each other, you both would’ve shared a look of ‘what the fuck is wrong with these dumbasses’?

“I’m sorry, do I know you guys?” You inquired, tilting your head slightly.

Red Robin sputtered at that. “Of course you do!”

A small silence encompassed the entire cave.

“Nuh uh.” You shook your head.

“What do you mean ‘Nuh uh’?! Did becoming a zombie mess with your memory?” At Red Robin’s words, he rushed over and unlocked the cell. He grabbed your face and pulled out a light to check your pupils. A few other vigilantes followed him in and clung to you or touched you in some type of way.

“No? I just don’t think we’ve ever talked more than like a second!” You pulled your face away as double R started muttering something about your pupils not reacting to light.

“Yes we have, [Name]. We talked before dinner the other day, didn’t we?” Some girl in purple spoke up. Spoiler, was it? She had her hand on your shoulder.

“Uh… no? The last dinner I had was with my family, and even then I didn’t get to eat anything cause they were serving human food.” You shrugged off the hand. She put it back a second later.

Another silence enveloped the cave.

Red Robin, you was still in front of you muttering about it your zombieness also paused and slowly looked to you. You couldn’t tell what his expression was.

He then pulled back his mask and your eyes widened at the sight of Tim Drake. Your Tim Drake. Your dipshit, older brother.

“Tim?!” You exclaimed.

Suddenly, Tim put his head in his hands and let out the longest sigh. After a bit, he dragged them down his face so he could stare at you.

“You had no idea we were vigilantes, did you?” He whispered, looking like he was wondering how the hell that slipped through the cracks.

(Tim really did like you. Really. It’s just that whenever you talked to him, he was either busy or tired and well… no one wants to be annoyed by their younger sibling so he shooed you off more often than not. But like he said, he did like you. He liked those rare mornings you made his favorite coffee and he would sit with you during breakfast while he drank it. He knew that you’d been the one to place blankets on him whenever he fell asleep randomly. He knew that you were a really caring person who looked out for him and the others. And if he never thanked you for it? What can he say? He’s a busy guy.)

“Wha— why would I know that?!” You yelled. You then watched as Red Ro— Tim pulled away from you. The other vigilantes followed and you and Jill both watched as they all convened and whispered to one another.

(“I told Dick a Justice League alert went off so I told him to tell them.”

“And I told Duke that I had to pop back to Blüdhaven because of an emergency. So he was supposed to tell them!”

“Killer Croc appeared during the lunch I planned to tell [Name] though! I told Steph to tell them!”

“But an emergency happened and I—)

They eventually came back to [Name] Black Bat even moved to unlock Jill’s cell. She immediately rushed over to sit criss-cross applesauce next to you. Some of the Bats frowned at that for whatever reason. You didn’t care to know why.

All you knew was that if they tried anything towards Jill like taking her to jail…

You’d probably eat them. Scratch that. You’d definitely eat them.

The big bat himself cleared his throat. “[Name], it has come to our attention that you never knew our identities and therefore didn’t know if you could come to us in a time of need.” Batman— or was it Bruce(?) said. He was the only one you thought had the build and jaw shape to be the Bat.

“Yeah, no shit.” You grumbled, Jill grabbed your hand and squeezed it. Probably trying to tell you to shut the fuck up.

“Language. Now as I was saying. I understand you didn’t know to come to us, but [Name], surely you know it wasn’t okay to murder six people, right?”

“I guess…? They all also murdered people too. Most of them did anyways.”

“Yes, but two wrongs don’t make a right, now do they?” Bruce, for the first time ever, was speaking to you in an almost babying tone. Like you were five and he was lecturing you on breaking Tim’s toy truck or whatever wrongs a kid at that age could do.

“Sure.” You said with the blankest tone ever.

“Then from now on you’ll come to us, right? If you’re ever hungry for humans, we’ll get you some because we’re your family and we care about you.” You would’ve been surprised if he didn’t start wagging his finger any second now.

“Sure.” You said blankly again.

“Good. Now, as for your little friend.” Bruce turned his head to Jill. She jumped. “I don’t want to see you coerce [Name] into anything ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.” She nodded quickly, her grip tightening harder on your hand.

Meanwhile, during that interaction, you were giving him the stink eye.

Who does he think he is talking to Jill like that?

“I hope you know that the only reason I’m not letting you take the fall from the entire thing is that you’re [Name]’s friend.” Bruce ground out.

You wanted to bite into his Achilles heel. Though, his boots did look reinforced so you might chip a tooth instead.

“Now, run along you two. Alfred’s going to start on dinner soon.” He pointedly looked at Jill again. “At the table, we can further discuss if we think you’re truly a worthy friend for [Name].”

You couldn’t help but glare at him for that. Jill is the truest friend you’ve ever had. At least they were letting you both go though… You stood and followed Alfred to the elevator, pulling Jill along. When you both exited, all three of you were now and one of the manor’s corridors. Alfred walked ahead, expecting you both to follow. You were about to, but Jill pulled you back…

…and kissed the life (ha ha) out of you.

“Fuck, I thought we were going to jail for sure.” She said as she pulled away from the kiss, yet stayed to rest her forehead on yours.

What a woman!

Taglist: @shinning-stars @tuabuelaenvinagrexd @lettucel0ver @holderoflostmemories @cherrydaisymanic @11queensupreme11 @vanessa-boo @darktrashpoetry @nyra-42 @horror-lover-69 @chemicalwindexbottle @sadslasher13 @mintynilla @otakusimp1 @1abi @exactlynumberonekryptonite @ceramic-raven @depressed--therapist @nisarelle @justannie18 @time-shardz @dandelion-delusion @capcryooo @tenswife @klutzymermaid @jjoppees @cupid73 @noone1233nobody @ihavenomuse @yarn-mony @rad4bean @vikkus-main @yuyuzi-ling @bellethesleepypotato @mary-jinx @natllo @celesteelysia

[crazy-pages]

I'm going somewhere with this wall of text, I promise.

I got a new cat Hazel recently who is very anxious (hyperreactive), especially about my other anxious cat Mighty (avoidant). Hazel has slowly started to become more brave about going out and about, but she's really struggled to warm up to Mighty, despite my best attempts with a very slow month of initial introductions, site swapping, distant introductions, etc.

A while back this bravery morphed into her approaching Mighty, sniffing him tentatively, and then hissing in fear and running away the moment he moved. I tried to limit the behavior and keep them separate when I wasn't around, but it was complicated by her being most at ease when people/bird watching from my porch balcony, which is on the opposite end of the house. She gets anxious if she can't sit out in the sun and do that, so I don't want to cut her off from that. But also her safe place under my bed is on the other side of the house, and if she comes back inside and Mighty is in between her and my bed she freaks out. She was getting less anxious and prone to hissing with time though, so I tentatively let this continue.

Well a while back I decided that I was going to let things continue, unless she took a swipe at Mighty. That would be behavior I didn't want to continue. But, stupidly, I didn't decide what I would do. So one day after coming back inside and finding Mighty in the way, she freaked out and took a swipe at him. And I'm pretty ashamed of my reaction. A friend of mine who had a bunch of cats who do get along told me her policy is to put them in their carriers in front of each other for an hour and I'd tentatively thought that might be a last resort option.

So I connected last resort, not knowing what to do, and that anecdote and put Hazel and Mighty both in their carriers in front of one another. And it was awful. Hazel, already keyed up, was fucking miserable. Mighty wanted to be anywhere else so badly. I'd really fucked up. It was absolutely the wrong context to try that in , Hazel being keyed up enough to swipe at Mighty, Mighty having just been swiped at by a cat for the first time since I got him a year and a half ago. And frankly it just wasn't a good idea for their situation at all.

I'd really fucked up.

So I started working to make it right. I separated them again for 3 days, with a slow reintroduction for the next week after that. I made sure that I was really careful and slow around both of them, and gave plenty of treats. I took the carriers out of sight, then slowly reintroduced them in line of sight, and then closer to them, played with them around them and gave them their treats near them, so they wouldn't develop a bad association. And when they were feeling a bit calmer I'd go to start the same type of sudden movements I'd used to grab them and put them in their carriers, wait for their inevitable negative body language or vocalization and then clearly and visibly back off, wait for them to be okay, then do reconcilatory affection.

In other words, I apologized and made it clear I wouldn't do it again, and tried to soothe the very understandable anxiety I'd caused about my potential behavior. Even though I couldn't talk to them, I should manage that.

And then I had this flicker of thought, that huh, that was probably what my mom felt like some of the times she overreacted or escalated a situation when I was young, in ways that made me miserable or feel trapped. Something was wrong with my behavior, she didn't know what to do about it and been stressed herself, and then she handled a situation with me really poorly. And for a moment that thought was sympathetic.

That was when I realized I couldn't think of a single example where she'd done what I had to make it right with my cats. That our relationship has almost straight up fallen apart multiple times because she often *will not hear* attempts to discuss how this impacted and impacts my relationship with her, and that when she does it tends to be a slow clock to not having heard it again.

She's a really nice woman, honestly. Loved the hell out of me, went an extra mile or ten for me. But there were a few specific issues where she'd been fucked up by how she was raised and just had no idea how to handle it in a good way. And, frankly, with having had to deal with my abusive father the whole time, I'm not sure she had the bandwidth to do better. And all parents fuck up sometimes.

And yet. I could feel the moment in my head, where I could have sympathized with her in a way that excused myself. "Oh haha, wow parenting really is hard, and this is just with cats, I should call her and tell her I'm sorry for criticizing her." Where I could have excused my behavior towards my cats and just let that be because hey, I wouldn't do it again right?

But spending that time attentive to needing to reearn my cats' trust calmed them both down. And it mean that when I started letting my roomba into my room to get around my bed, Hazel didn't freak out too much. She just fled to another space on the other side of the house ... which I noticed and encouraged ... which became a new safe space ... and now she wasn't getting trapped between Mighty and her sense of safety ... and suddenly she could deal with Mighty so much better.

And it was really bittersweet. Because here I was, both conflicted about having fucked up and proud I made it better ... and I absolutely could not talk to my mother about it. Because it was her parenting I'd taught myself to do better than, and she still can't really hear that. And she's never stepped up like that in a way that would let her share my pride, or sympathize with my fuck up in a way that wouldn't be self-absolving.

Point is, we can do better. And should, because this stuff quite literally causes deeper rifts than you might ever know.

love when a mother asks if they have ever done anything to hurt you. ma'am, you will literally never be ready to have this conversation

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Designing the main villains!

I was a bit stumped on what to do with Gunmar and Bular, but some lovely people over on TikTok suggested that Drago and his Bewilderbeast swap places with Gunmar, so I decided to combine the two of them for his design :)

I assigned Bular to switch places with the Red Death since she’s a first movie exclusive character, and Bular is also pretty much a first season exclusive villain (if I’m remembering things correctly ?) Overall the designs actually translated very well into trolls which is awesome. It’s with Bular/RedDeath that Hiccup loses his leg in this AU.

I also worked a bit more on Hiccup’s armour since my previous attempt was a little too bland for my liking. It was a bit of a juggle of trying to make it look more ‘Hiccup’ and Viking-ish, while also trying to maintain that classic sleek clean look of Trollhunter armour.

It was especially hard considering that the Daylight armour is magically summoned, so it wouldn’t really make sense for it to have things like belts or clothing underneath. I made do by just mish mashing a bit of both worlds. The trick was just to add more leather into the design. I’m still not super satisfied with his prosthetic leg though, so I’ll also have to redesign that.

+ And finally a bunch of miscellaneous sketches, ideas, and WIPS on the crossover :

As established before, Fishlegs is taking over the role of both Eli and Toby :) I’d imagine that he hangs out a lot with Blinky at Trollmarket needing out together. He’s taken a strong interest in wanting ALL about Troll culture ever since Hiccup becomes Trollhunter.

I’m not too sure how I want the twins’ backstories should be as Akiridians, since they barely really have one in canon. But so far I got three options :

I do think that when the twins are in their human disguises at school, they immediately latch onto the most interesting person they find, that being Snotlout. They cause him so much grief by annoying him half to death and dragging him into weird situations.

The Zippleback twins are notoriously known for being tricksters who keep stealing jewelry and bedazzling themselves with it. They’re technically banned from Trollmarket but keep somehow appearing anyway, and Vendel has long since given up on trying to find out how and keeping them out

Very random headcanon, but Barf’s real name is Bartholomew, and that’s why people call him Barf. That’s all I had to say.

Someone else on TikTok also just opened my eyes to Wizard Heather. I was initially going to make Dagur a changeling, but I thought it would be infinitely funnier if he was actually just some regular ass guy who EVERYONE thinks is a changeling purely based off his behaviour.

Snotlout is probably going to be an antagonist for a short bit after he finds out about both his and his father’s true nature, because Spitelout convinces him that the Trollhunters are their enemy and Snotlout doesn’t know anything and just assumes he’s telling the truth.

Potential backstory for Hookfang which might end up being too outlandish to use hut whatever : one of the reasons Hookfang is one of the only ones to not care Snotlout is half changeling is because he also used to be part of a Gumm Gumm experiment to combine Stalkling biology with regular Troll biology, which earns him a bit of a bad reputation in Trollmarket. Because of this he lives pretty much on the very outskirts of the market, and understands Snotlout’s struggles.

Anyways! If you read this far congratulations. This is a BIG post and I talk a lot, so thank you for dealing with my crazy ramblings. I’m so happy people actually like my ideas :)

[ethe-realfantasy]

"I don't need time, I need you." (Part V)

(ANGST, slow burn, another man tries to touch you at a work event and you call Simon for help…

also the next part will be the last and I thought about incorporating some soft nsfw?? would you be ok with that?)

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The city is already dusk-blue by the time you step out of your apartment. You decided to wear the long, low-backed navy dress. The neckline’s soft, the fabric velvet-like, hugging and skimming you in all the right ways. You hadn’t planned on going initially, not until Emma practically guilt-tripped you at lunch yesterday.

“You can’t keep going from work to home and back again, y/n. Come on. Just for an hour. Dress up and have a drink,“ she said with pleading eyes.

What really pushed you to say yes, tough, wasn't the party or the networking that comes with it. It was the thought that you'd forgotten what feeling like yourself even means lately.

The venue is all low light and clean glass, warm chatter echoing off modern lines. People from the firm are already milling about with wine and small plates. You shed your coat near the entrance, suddenly feeling bare in the dress, like it’s a little too honest about your shape. Your skin hums with sudden awareness. It's not shame, but vulnerability.

Emma finds you quickly, complimenting you on your dress, while she grabs your arm and pulls you toward the crowd. There aren't many people you know on a deeper level... it's more of a networking event. But then there’s Shawn.

He’s at the bar, sleeves rolled, collar undone like he’s in permanent soft-focus. He notices you immediately and you see it, the slight double take. The look that says, Oh.

And then he walks over.

“Wow,” he says, handing you a fresh glass of wine without asking, eyes sweeping once down, then respectfully back up. “You look like you’re trying to ruin people.”

That catches you off-guard, but you smile politely. “That's dramatic.”

“It's observant,” Shawn counters, taking a sip of his wine. “I was starting to think you might ghost us tonight. Emma said you needed convincing to come.”

You shrug, trying not to look toward the entrance again. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Let's see for how long,” he teases.

You don’t answer. Instead, you press out a grin and take a sip of your wine.

Shawn shifts a little closer, not inappropriate, but enough to be noticed. The bar is getting crowded and the music shifts into something with a pulse. He leans in, voice pitched low near your ear.

“You know, I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab a drink sometime…,“ he says with a grin.

There’s nothing wrong with Shawn. In fact, on another night, in another life, maybe you would even say yes. But you feel it like a pinched nerve: this isn’t that life. That man isn’t yours. Your man is someone else, somewhere else. Your man kissed you in your kitchen two nights ago like he’d die if he didn’t.

And right now, you can’t stop wondering where he is or what he’d think if he saw you like this, lit by low lights, dressed like a temptation and a man leaning just a little too close. You're dressed in a way you only ever used to dress for him. Your spine straightens a little.

You smile at Shawn, gracious but vague. “This drink’s enough for me tonight,“ you say, trying to make it sound like teasing.

The evening drags along with meaningless conversation and Shawn trying to impress you at every opportunity that presents itself. You've been sipping the same glass of wine for over an hour now.

Shawn hasn’t overstepped, he’s charming, polite and he laughs when people laugh, listens when he should. But every time you catch him watching you, there’s a possessiveness in his gaze that tightens your shoulders. It isn’t him that repells you, but rather what he represents. A direction you aren't walking toward and never will.

You drift away after a while, slowly and quietly. It’s not hard. Shawn is caught in conversation with one of the senior partner and you use the moment to vanish into the moving tide of laughter and cocktails. You find Emma near the buffet, chatting with two other women.

“Hey,” you say and Emma lights up, clearly relieved.

“There you are. I thought Shawn had swept you into some corner office,” she teases, elbow nudging gently.

“Thankfully not,“ you say as you smooth your hand along your arm, fingertips brushing goosebumps you can’t quite explain.

Emma tilts her head, noticing something shift behind your eyes but not pressing it. “Do you want me to stick with you?”

But it’s too late, Shawn's voice carries across the clink of glass and buzz of music, loud enough for you to flinch.

“Honestly, can you blame me?” he says to one of the corporate guys and though he doesn’t name you, everyone knows who he means. “I mean, look at her. She shows up looking like that and expects me to act normal?” A few light, male chuckles fill the room.

You stiffen immediately.

It’s not overtly crude, but it cuts. He said that... publicly. You're public now, being looked at and talked about. Suddenly your dress feels more revealing than confident.

You don’t say anything, you don't even turn to look at Emma, you just move, quickly.

You haste through the crowd, past the main room, toward the hallway that runs behind the event space. There’s a quiet alcove near the kitchen, it's low-lit and stacked with storage crates. It’s not a hiding place, but it’s private enough for you to catch your breath.

You lean back against the wall, while your hands grip the edge of the small service table beside you. Your heart is thudding, not because of Shawn's comment, but because of the storm it brings up inside you.

Suddenly, you think of Simon. The way he had firmly said, that he didn’t want to see you near that man again. And now you're here, in a tempting dress, standing in a hallway, hiding, because Shawn looked at you like you were his to want.

You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in slowly. You wish Simon were here. You don’t know what he’d do or what he’d say, but you know that you would feel... safe.

You focus on your breathing. In, then out, slow and controlled. Your spine now presses flat to the cool wall behind you, trying to anchor yourself in the stillness, to let the discomfort of the humiliation wash off.

You don’t hear him at first. The sound of his steps is unsteady, too quiet to be casual, too deliberate to be harmless. But it isn’t until you see his silhouette at the edge of the hallway that your body tenses.

Shawn sways a little in the soft light, one hand braced on the wall as he looks at you, that same look he’s had a few too many times now. Lazy, half-lidded and possessive.

“There you are,” he says, voice slurred at the edges. “You kinda ran off on me.”

You straighten a little, but you don’t move. Your fingers curl around the hem of your dress. “I just needed a minute.”

He grins. “What, from me?” he says, laughing like it’s a joke, like it’s charming, but it isn’t. His steps bring him closer, too close.

“Shawn," you say, tone low and measured, “maybe you should go back to the party.”

But he doesn’t, he keeps walking until he’s only a breath away. You flinch slightly, almost imperceptibly, but he sees it and misreads it entirely. His hand reaches out, fingertips brushing your arm, then sliding too confidently to your waist. He slips it lower and it rests on your inner thigh.

Your body locks immediately.

“You look really, really good tonight,” he murmurs, leaning in and his breath is hot against your cheek, the press of his fingers insistent, uninvited. “You know that, right? Don’t act like you don’t know.”

You turn your face away and your hands press against his chest instinctively, not hard, but there’s resistance there. “Shawn,” you say again, firmer this time. “You’re drunk.”

He chuckles, low and stupid. “Not that drunk.”

His other hand lifts and you see it coming before it happens, the way his gaze drops to your mouth and the way his body angles forward. You jerk your face to the side again, but his hand is already forcefully sliding up toward your jaw, his thumb grazing the edge of your cheek. His other hand presses dangerously close to your…

“No,” you say, sharper now, a tremor of fear rising in your chest.

He doesn’t listen. Instead he pushes his body against yours and leans in for a kiss. You can feel his erection on your thigh. That’s when you push him away. Hard, with your flat palms to his chest.

“Stop it," you breathe out and your voice cuts through the corridor, quiet but hard-edged. It's final.

He stumbles a step back, blinking in surprise. You're shaking, but your eyes are clear. You stare at him: disgusted, disappointed and done.

“Don’t touch me,” you say with a firm voice, it's trembling only at the end. “Don’t ever touch me.”

Shawn blinks, clearly registering, finally, what just happened.

You slip past him fast, your body buzzing with adrenaline. Behind you, you hear him call after you.

"y/n, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..,“ he mumbles, but your heels click sharply against the marble floor as you continue walking away. Your skin is still crawling from what just happened.

You don’t know where you're going, not yet. You just need to get away. Maybe outside to get some fresh air, maybe even...

God. A thought slams into you like a wave. Simon‘s voice and the weight behind it, when he said, “I better not see that man near you again.”

You hadn’t listened, you hadn’t known. How could you possibly have known?

Now you do. Now you ache for the one man who would’ve never let anything like this happen. For the man whose presence alone would’ve sent Shawn ten feet in the other direction. You swallow back the tightness in your throat.

The moment you step outside, the cold hits you like a slap. You don’t notice it at first, not with your heart still hammering in your chest, your palms damp and your breath coming in uneven bursts that fog in the night air. But when the shiver finally hits you, it does so all at once, crawling up your spine, setting your teeth on edge.

You slowly wrap your arms around yourself tightly, as if that tiny embrace could shield you from the world. The city hums, taxis pass and people laugh just around the corner.

Your mind races and you not only think about what just happened, but what could have happened. The look in Shawn's eyes... it was clear what he wanted to do. You still feel his hand press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to the part of you that screams Simons name for over three months now.

Your stomach turns and a fresh wave of nausea rises. Your body just won’t stop trembling. He touched you. God. He was going to... You swallow hard, dragging in a shaky breath, but it feels like your lungs won’t expand, like the moment is still trapped in them. Your skin still feels tainted with his hands. You pace a few steps, but it won't do. Nothing helps to stop the shaking.

You fumble in your purse with numb fingers, digging for your phone like it’s your lifeline. Your vision blurs for a second and you don’t even realize you're crying until you feel the wet chill on your cheek.

There’s only one number your mind reaches for and you don't think. You just call. The line rings twice, then you finally hear his voice and your body relaxes.

“y/n?,“ his voice is rough with sleep. It's so familiar and grounding, you close your eyes for a second.

You don't say anything, you can't yet. You hear him sitting up and the rustling of the sheets.

“’s almost midnight,” he says gently. “You alright?”

„Simon…,“ you plead, voice breaking.

The silence that follows is immediate and sharp. He’s alert now. Fully awake.

“Something...,“ you say as your throat tightens. “Something happened. Can you... I... I need you.” You can’t even string the sentence together. “Can you come get me?”

His answer is instant. “On my way," he says, no questions, no hesitation.

You exhale loudly, like you've been holding your breath for hours. He hears it through the phone and tenses.

“Where are you?”

You give him the name of the place and he hums in acknowledgment, already moving. You hear him putting his jeans on by the sound of his belt.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he adds and his voice is tense with that quiet urgency that only ever comes out when it’s about you.

The call ends and you're left frozen in place, arms hugging yourself tightly again, but the fact that he's coming is enough to keep you grounded.

---------

Seven minutes later he parks half up on the curb, barely cutting the engine before he’s out of the car.

You stand there under the streetlamp, shivering with your arms crossed. Your lips are pale and your eyes are blinking like you're still coming back into your body. The wind picks up your dress, but you don't seem to care.

Simon’s boots hit the pavement hard as he strides toward you. He doesn’t speak at first. He reaches out for you and the moment he's close enough, his hands find your arms with a gentle, concerned touch. He still doesn't say anything, he's simply scanning you.

He’s checking you for injuries. His eyes travel over your face, your arms, the shape of your collarbone, the way your dress clings too tightly to your body. His gaze sharpens as he zeroes in on a red mark at the edge of your jaw. His body stiffens.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and controlled. “Anywhere?”

You blink up at him, eyes glossy. “No. I.. no, I’m okay.”

But you're not okay. Of course he knows that. He sees it in the way you're trembling and in the way your voice cracks around the edges.

“I just didn’t know who else to call,” you add, voice shaky.

The steel around his expression softens instantly and his eyes lose their edge. He's wearing the mask.

“You don’t ever need a reason to call me. Y'know that," he says gently but urgently.

You want to explain, but you cut yourself off with a small, choked sound. Your arms wrap tighter around yourself and he notices the way your shoulders shake.

Without a word, Simon pulls off his hoodie, one of those soft, oversized ones he always wears, warm from him still. "Here," he says, as he guides your arms through the sleeves. It swallows you completely.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You nod with big, glossy eyes.

He adjusts your hood gently. "Smell's not too bad?" he asks, half trying to get a smile out of you.

You shake your head quickly, burying yourself inside his hoodie. He knows you love his smell.

“I was sleeping,” he mumbles. “Didn’t even take much time to change. Just… came straight ‘ere.”

Suddenly you start mumbling.

“I... I didn’t think it’d be like that,” you blurt with a shaking voice. “It was just a work event but he... he was... he followed me into this back hallway and I told him no, I pushed him away but he... he still tried, and I...,“ you stutter.

Simon’s face changes, like a switch being flipped: His jaw tightens again, his shoulders straighten, his breath deepens. That low, quiet fire behind his expression, it’s there again, hotter than before. It’s a version of him you've only seen a few times before. The one that comes out when you're in danger or when someone crosses a line.

“He still in there?” he asks. He's calm... too calm.

His body is already angled towards the building, as if he is getting himself ready. You step forward quickly, grab his arm and shake your head slowly, with teary eyes, as if to say: Please don't go inside. Please don't leave me here alone.

You feel his pulse and his heart is pounding. His body feels so unbelievably hot and you feel it, how he is vibrating with restraint. But when he looks at you again, all of that tension eases just slightly. You're still trembling and your eyes are still too glossy to fake composure. You're not okay and he knows it. So instead of turning toward that building, he turns toward you.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you in the car.”

You let him guide you across the sidewalk and to the car, with one hand pressed gently to your back. He opens the door for you and shields you from the world with his massive frame, as he waits until you're seated before closing it with quiet finality.

When he slides into the car, he doesn’t start the engine right away.

“Want me to drive you home?” he asks softly, his hand already on the wheel.

You nod, throat tightening. “Please,“ you whisper.

The car hums to life and as Simon shifts into gear, you lean back into the seat, wrapped in his hoodie, the sleeves too long, the scent of him wrapped around you like a shield. For the first time tonight, you feel warm and safe.

Beside you, Simon drives silently, with a storm raging inside his mind. He doesn’t let go of you once the car stops in your driveway.

"You sure, you're alright?", he asks, one hand still on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh.

"Mhm," you breathe, as you reach for the door handle with a shaking hand. He's obviously not convinced.

“’m walking you up,” he says, his voice low and final, but never sharp. It's a tone you've come to trust completely. A tone you're grateful for tonight.

You lean slightly into the handrail as you climb the stairs, his hand hovering just near your elbow. He's not touching you, but he is close enough to catch you if need be.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble with the key. Simon gently takes it from your hand, unlocks the door and opens it for you like he’s done a thousand times before. Inside, the familiar dimness of your apartment finally folds around you.

He settles you on the couch without a word, grabbing a blanket from the armrest and draping it over your knees. Then he just stands there by the door, big and awkward in your small apartment, like a shadow that doesn’t know where to rest. His hands hover at his sides and his eyes flick over you again. Scanning again, looking for signs of injuries.

You try to smile. “I’m okay. Really. You don’t have to worry, I.. I already feel bad for calling you this late.”

His mouth tightens, but he doesn’t move. “Don’t,” he cuts in. “Don't feel bad. I mean it.”

You look away, rubbing at your wrists, but he sees your shoulders still shaking slightly. How tense they still are.

He crosses the room slowly and sinks down in front of you, kneeling. His knees brush the carpet, while his hands reach up and gently take yours.

His touch is so careful. His palms warm and his fingers are curling around yours like muscle memory.

“y/n,” he starts and looks up at you, his voice is almost too gentle. Your core tightens when his thumb strokes across your knuckle. “You really okay with being alone tonight?”

Your gaze flicks back and forth between his eyes for a moment, searching. Then you nod a little too quickly. "Yes,“ you whisper.

He watches the way you say it, like you want to believe it. Still, he nods in agreement.

“Alright,“ he breathes out and stands up slowly, releasing your hands only when he absolutely has to. And then he turns, stepping toward the door, already planning to sleep in his car, already ready to pace the sidewalk outside like a silent guard dog.

You watch him walk toward the door with his back to you. Your eyes glide over his massive frame, broad shoulders and strong back. Suddenly you feel nauseous at the thought of him leaving you.

He’s just reaching for the doorknob when your voice catches in the air.

“Simon," you cry out more desperately than you meant to.

He turns instantly and his eyes meet yours.

“Can you stay?” you whisper, eyes pleading. “I don’t… I don’t feel safe. Not without you.”

For a moment, he just stands there. Then he takes off his boots silently and moves toward you. He quietly pulls the blanket higher over your knees and sits down on the edge of the couch. He doesn't touch you, but he's close enough and you close the space by leaning your head gently against his arm.

You don’t say much after he settles in beside you. It's just past 2am now. The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft golden glow above the stove in the kitchen. The air is warm and still heavy from what happened hours earlier, but it's slowly loosening its grip.

Simon sits still on the couch, legs stretched out slightly, his body still humming with vigilance. At first he doesn’t lean back fully, not until he sees you stand up quietly, barefoot, taking of his hoodie and tugging the zipper of your dress down with trembling fingers.

You turn away, not out of shame, he's seen your body a thousand times before, he knows it like his own, but out of instinct. Then you slip out of the dress. It falls to the floor in a rustle of fabric. You put his hoodie back on, sleeves long past your fingers, the hem brushing your thighs and breathe in his scent again. You don’t say a word about it, you simply fold the dress neatly and place it on the armchair. When you return to the couch, you move slower, like your limbs are heavier now that you've let the pretense go.

He lifts your blanket without thinking and you slip under it. Then you’re splaying the blanket over him too and tucking yourself into his side without asking. Simon shifts slightly to make space for you, one strong arm wrapping around your shoulder, tucking you in with care. Your legs draw up, your bare feet nudging his jeans and you exhale. Your cheek rests just over his heart and he wonders if you can feel how fast it still beats.

Neither of you speaks and after a while, your breath starts to slow.

At one point, you murmur something too soft to make out and he hushes you gently, fingertips brushing your hairline. You settle again, your face nuzzled into the collar of his shirt. You smell like your perfume and something cold, like the night air still clings to you.

Simon’s eyes stay open. His gaze is fixed on the front door, sharp and unblinking. Every creak of the building, every shift of wind outside draws his attention. His body is still alert, coiled around you like a shield. He doesn’t trust the world right now. He doesn't trust what could find its way back into your life.

But slowly, after long minutes, your warmth and the rhythm of your sleeping breath starts to weigh on him. His hand around you loosens slightly and his jaw unclenches.

Finally, only once he’s sure you're deeply asleep he lets his head fall back against the couch, the tension bleeding from him in quiet waves. He falls asleep watching the door.

--------

The morning stretches slowly across the apartment. The city outside stirs faintly, but in here, it’s still. Simon is already awake.

He hasn’t moved much, not wanting to disturb you. You're still curled into his chest, your legs tangled with his under the blanket, your head tucked beneath his chin. The oversized hoodie has slipped slightly off to the side, exposing the curve of your collarbone to the morning air. His hand, large, calloused and still as stone, rests gently along the dip of your waist, guarding you.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d meant to watch the door all night, but sometime after the quiet of you breath evened out and your fingers stopped twitching from whatever haunted you earlier, he must’ve slipped under with you. And now, he just… doesn’t want to move.

You stir faintly and a small sound escapes your throat as you shift against him, face nuzzling into his chest like it’s instinct. You feel his hoodie, his scent and you're still warm and sleepy, wrapped in the echo of safety.

“God… I have to go to work," you grumble.

Simon’s eyes drop down to you immediately. Your lips are brushing the fabric of his shirt and he feels it like a spark across skin. His jaw clenches.

Work? So that guy will be there?

He doesn’t say it, he doesn’t even blink, but it flashes across his mind in jagged, hard-edged shapes: the image of that man’s hand on you, the way you shook last night, how fragile your voice had sounded on the phone.

Instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll drive you.”

Your brows furrow against his chest and you lift your head slowly, bleary-eyed. “You don’t have to..”

“I know,” he says, cutting you off gently. “Still gonna.”

There’s no room to argue in his tone. He's never aggressive with you, but it’s that quiet, immovable kind of firm that says 'don’t fight me on this'. He’s already untangling himself from the blanket, hands moving carefully to make sure you're warm before he slips out from beneath it. You watch him silently. Suddenly you feel a warmth erupt in your chest. Yesterday.. he's shown you again that he's the only person you have ever felt safe with.

Simon doesn’t say anything about Shawn, but it’s written in the tension in his shoulders, in the flick of his gaze as you get ready for work. Its in the way he keeps watching the clock. He's protective and devoted in a way that doesn’t ask for praise or attention. There is only one thing he demands: No one touches what’s his. Not ever again.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist:

@preeyas-world

@succulambb

@izzycstairs

@mindsofjade

@simonexxx1

@lovelycurls

@clara-geekhime

@kylies-love-letter

@fruitymoonbeams-blog

@syphlno

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not sure if you’re taking requests !! but if you are, on my knees 🧎🏻‍♀️and here to kindly request a drunk no doubt! Jake who is a PEAK LOVEY DOVEY DRUNK when he gets home (or refuses to leave unless yn is picking his ass up lol) 🫶🏼

HIII ugh one of my og jakeyn lovers i appreciate u so so so much & all ur comments & love ALWAYS <3333 and YES OH MY GOD i can totally imagine it rn DRUNK JAKE WOULD BE SO CLINGY AND SO CHEESY AND LOVEY DOVEY IM GONNA BE SICK. also this one ended up being longer than my usual requested drabbles WHOOPS SORRY I JUST LOVE SIMP JAKE UGH 😫

──── MY ANGEL, MY UBER, MY EVERYTHING.🍸🍋🌿 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

You hear it first before your eyes even open.

A loud buzz, obnoxiously close to your head. You groan, your arm flailing out from under the comforter to mute your phone off and go back to sleep.

And not even three seconds later—

Buzz. Buzz.

You groan into your pillow.

One eye cracks open just enough to glance at the screen:

jungwon👯

Yeah.

This can't be good.

You answer with a sleepy grumble, "What."

"Heyyyy Y/N," Jungwon says, way too chipper and lively for your liking at this hour. "Sooo...you might wanna come pick up your boyfriend."

You blink slowly, brain still foggy with sleep.

"Huh."

"Jake's, um. Very drunk. And refusing to leave unless it's with you."

You stare at the ceiling above, deadpan, "You're joking."

"I wish," Jungwon sighs, sounding both amused and exasperated at the same time. "We tried everythin—"

A crash. A muffled ow. Some rustling. Then—

"WAIT—ARE YOU TALKING TO Y/N?"

Jungwon groans. "Jake—no, don't—hey, Jake, that's my—dude, give me my ph—JAKE—"

"BABY."

Jake's voice explodes through the speaker.

"BABY I NEED YOU. PLEASE."

You blink at your phone, now fully awake. And fully amused.

"Jake—"

"They're trying to make me go home to the dorm," he slurs dramatically. "Like—to my own room. Alone. WITHOUT YOU."

"Jake, you live with me," you giggle, already climbing out of bed and reaching for your hoodie. "You'll be fine."

"NO. I won't. I wanna be in our bed. With my girl. Smelling like your vanilla shampoo and on your comfy silk sheets. Please. It's a basic human right."

You're full-on giggling now, navigating through your dark room for your keys, because—

Unfortunately, you're in love with him and will do anything for this poor guy.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Just hang tight and give Jungwon his phone back okay?"

Twenty minutes later, you're outside the bar Jungwon texted you the address to.

And then you see him.

Slumped against the wall, tie crooked, shirt loosened, hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are glassy and pink-tinted, cheeks flushed, ears red.

Sunghoon stands next to him, one arm outstretched to keep Jake upright, while Jay's trying to press a water bottle into his lips.

Then—

Jake looks up.

"BABY!!!"

He launches off the wall. Slightly pushes Sunghoon and Jay off. Trips over his own feet. Nearly collapses straight into you.

"Oh my god, Jake," you're giggling, catching him as he immediately melts into you, burying his face into your shoulder.

He smells like beer and cologne and Jake—his entire body warm and heavy as he wraps himself around you.

"You're here," he mumbles into your hoodie, relieved. "I told them. I told them you'd be here. Said my girl's gonna come for me. She always comes for me."

You glance over his shoulder. Sunghoon looks three seconds away from joining Heeseung, slumped on the sidewalk. Jay's already walking away.

"What happened to this being a wholesome group dinner outing?" you ask dryly, lifting a brow as you still try to stay balanced under Jake's full body weight wrapped around you.

"Don't blame me," Jungwon shrugs, wide-eyed. "Not my fault your boyfriend's a lightweight."

And you can't even argue with that.

Given your current position.

You're convinced Jake fell asleep like this. Standing up. Hugging you.

"Okay, okay. Let's get you home," you say, amused as you wave bye to the rest of the guys and steer your mess of a boyfriend towards your car.

The drive back isn't any better.

Jake refuses to let go to you.

One hand wrapped around your arm. The other holding your hand that isn't on the wheel. Body stretched over the console. Head on your shoulder, a sleepy smile playing at his lips as the smell of alcohol still lingers on him.

"You're so pretty," he murmurs, nose brushing your neck. "Like, so pretty. That's why I call you my pretty. You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen. I'm gonna marry you."

You keep your eyes on the road, but you laugh softly, trying to keep up with his mumbled words, "You say that every time you're drunk, Jakey."

"And I mean it ever time I'm drunk," he pulls back just enough to look at you with a serious look, but it's more like a pout. "And sober. Drunk me. Sober me. Future me. Past me. I love you. Love you so much. You're my angel. My Uber. My everything. My—my forever girl."

You burst out in giggles, "Your Uber?"

"Yeah," he nods, grinning at your reaction. "You picked me up. Best Uber ever. And your car always smells good. Like peaches. Five stars. Infinite stars."

By the time you drag him into the apartment and finally in bed, he's still clinging onto you, professing his love endlessly between hiccups and yawns.

"Pretty," he whispers, his nose nuzzling into your hair, breath warm against your skin. "M'gonna marry you. You know that right? You know I love you? So perfect. My girl."

And you're a goner. Completely wrecked.

"I know, Jakey," you smile, stroking his hair as his breathing slows. "I know."

And you do.

Because drunk or not—Sim Jaeyun is the realest thing you've ever known.

And he means every word.

no doubt m. list

tag list! pt. 1 (open)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[hey-ol-soul]

FL and TX and semi-frequent festival goer here! Adding to OP's point about Going from low temp to high temp, HIGH TO LOW IS JUST AS BAD. Again! Try to be gradual. Water on your wrists, behind your jaw, in your hair, whatever. Hell if you need to drench yourself in ROOM-TEMP water to cool down, sure. But (especially if you're about to drive or something) do NOT chug or dump an ice water, then BLAST your AC right into your face.

It WILL leave you disoriented due to the sudden shift. While this is not true temp-shock, it's certainly not great and being disoriented for even a moment in the heat like that will leave you nauseous and sick, and may impair you for a few seconds to a few hours.

Even a small amount of distraction can be the difference between health and sickness, and sickness in record-high temps is BAD.

If you get sick, you cannot properly protect yourself from the heat for maybe a day or so, maybe longer. That day or so of improper care can make you sicker. And then begins a VICIOUS cycle.

Room-temp water (MAYBE an ice cube on the face) on vital points (wrists are quick to cool you down), let your car get to about mid-temp, then get in and gradually shift it to cold.

—

Also, yes!!! Dump water on yourself! I don't care if you're wearing a white top and it's your only clothing. Immodesty is still better than being sick or dead! And don't be afraid to do the same for kids, pets, and even peers. Dump. The. Water.

Have their head beneath the stream of water, and MAKE SURE it gets to the back of their neck NO MATTER what. Crown of their head, back of their neck, and cover any other surface area you can. Thighs in jeans is a bad idea, it can lead to burns and pain (even if you don't get a sunburn, the heat is unbearable).

—

No pool and you have active kids? Just fine. Clean out and line a trash bin (the big green or blue ones) with a bag and fill it with water. Play in a hose or sprinkler. Water balloons. Those water shooters work just fine for outdoor water fights. They all provide some cool water for your younger ones.

—

Now, while the days can be hot, the nights are a toss-up. They can be lukewarm-hot to absolutely frigid. Please be very careful and try to get inside no later than 45 minutes after sun-down if you can. The night is blissfully MUCH easier to manage, but they're still nightmares.

If it's warm or hot? It should still be much cooler. You can generally relax and drink water that's mid-temp to cold. If it's cold, make sure you keep a jacket with you in your car or bag. Cold summer nights are no joke during hot seasons, and especially if you've had to cool down with external water at ANY point in the day, it can quickly make you sick.

Unsure? Keep a jacket in your belongings and only use as necessary. If your weather is as erratic as the southeast states, you know that jackets and umbrellas are your best friends year-round.

—

Please stay safe out there this summer!

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[sweetcalebb]

Hi hi! I’ve had a couple nsfw ideas for Caleb but I’m shit at writing so they’ve been rotting in my mind 😫 I need to share. Okay so

- giving him head

- Caleb teaching you how to give a hand job

- teaching caleb how to touch you

- colonel Caleb angry sexy times

Just some inspo 😋 YOURE AWESOME ILY AND UR WRITING

Caleb teaching you how to touch him ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 2.4k

a/n: hi, hi anon! tysm for requesting! i combined 1&2 and i would love to write separate pieces for 3&4. i just wanted more info on 3. like is caleb completely new to it? (clumsy, nervous, shaky, etc) or is he relearning her body? getting to know exactly what makes her tick? if u want me to write that, feel free to DM me or send another anon request! and lemme know if u also want that 4th piece! i'm more than happy to write it <3

For the past month, the furthest you and Caleb had gone were rough make-outs and cheeky little touches that never went below the waist.

But you wanted more.

And based on the way Caleb groans whenever you shift in his lap while kissing him, he does too.

You place a searing kiss to his jaw before clumsily crawling off his lap and sitting beside him on the couch, knees curled underneath you.

Caleb whines, leaning toward you like he wants to chase your lips. "Hey, I wasn't done," he pouts.

"Mmn.. I know," you murmur, reaching out and rubbing his chest. "But..."

Caleb's lip tugs in a curious smile, his eyes lingering on your hand for a moment before going back to you.

"I just thought that maybe..." you drag your hand lower, finding the bulge in his pants and palming him softly, "we could do something else?"

Caleb groans, pushing his hips into your hand like he just can't help himself. "Fu—mm—" He bites back the curse crawling up his throat. "Are you sure?"

You nod, all sweet and slow and innocent and it makes him buck into your hand again with a huff. He knows it's pathetic. All you're doing is palming him, but it feels so good.

"Because you don't have to do this," he rasps. "You don't have to do anything you don't—"

"I want to, Caleb."

He has to fight everything in him not to grab your hand and show you just how he likes it. To keep your hand there and just get off by rolling his hips.

"Yeah, okay."

When you watch him shift back against the couch and spread his legs to give you better access, your confidence wavers.

"I just.." You keep rubbing him through his clothes, drinking in every little twitch and breath. "I've never done this."

Caleb huffs out a small breath. "Okay.. You want me to help?"

You give him a shy nod, and Caleb gently grabs your hand and presses it harder against the bulge in his pants. You gasp, your eyes widening at just how hard he feels when you really press down.

"Like that," he breathes, slowly guiding your palm over the hard line of his cock. You nod, keeping the same pressure he taught you as you slide your hand up and down.

"Am I doing it right?"

Caleb lets his hand fall away and groans. "Yeah. Yeah, you're doing really good."

Your hand never stops moving, palming him in clumsy but eager circles as you lean in and kiss him. Your whole body lights up at the way he breathes into your mouth, caught between sighs and moans.

You want more.

Slowly, you slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tug on them. "Can I…" You pause, breathing shakily against his lips. "Can I try… for real?"

Caleb's eyes go dark, his lips trembling as he tugs it between his teeth before nodding. "Only if you want to."

You give him another shy nod, already tugging his pants and boxers down his hips. "I want to. I want to make you feel good, Caleb."

Caleb almost whines at your words. How is he supposed to keep fighting himself when you sounded like that? When you're so adamant about pleasuring him?

He helps you tug his pants and boxers down just far enough to free his aching cock. A blush spreads across his cheeks at the act of being so vulnerable, but he feels better when he sees the look of pure awe on your face.

He looks so pretty like this. Bare and glistening and all yours. It makes you throb in your cotton panties.

But this is all about him.

Nervously, you wrap your hand around him. He's so hot. So… sensitive. You almost pull back when he hisses.

"Did I do something wrong—"

"No," Caleb quickly says, grabbing your wrist with a shaky hand. "No. You just… you feel really nice, Pips."

You can't help the proud smile that tugs at your lips. "Really?"

Caleb nods, wordlessly pulling you into a greedy kiss and rolling his hips into your hand.

You sigh into him, your heart pounding when you feel the first drop of precum slide down your hand. "Tighter," Caleb husks, reaching down to squeeze his hand around yours. "You can be meaner about it."

You pull back to look at him, your face hot. "Like—Like this? This is okay?" You stroke him again, your grip tighter.

Caleb gasps, "Yes, Pips. Yes, just like that."

You move your hand in clumsy, slow strokes. "I'm sorry I keep asking so many questions," you whisper, your eyes darting down to his lap to watch the angry head of his cock push through your fist again and again.

It's so obscene.

So messy.

You squeeze your legs together.

"Don't apologize." Caleb grabs you and crushes his lips against yours again like your lips are the only anchor he knows while you unravel him.

"I like it. This, you—fuck—feels good."

You swallow hard, emboldened by his breathy little words. "Can you keep your hand on mine?" you ask between kisses.

Caleb pulls back, eyes half-lidded and glossy, lips covered in a sheen of saliva and parted with his small huffs.

"Just to teach me?"

The way he's looking at you now—with nothing but pure adoration and lust—it makes your mind reel.

You chew your lips and glance down again, experimentally rubbing your thumb over the tip, smearing his arousal across the angry tip of his cock.

Caleb shudders, his hand tightening around yours.

"Fu—Teach you?" He holds his breath. "You're already so—"

"Please."

How can he say no?

He tightens his hold on your hand. "Yeah. I'll teach you. Whatever you want." He glances down, biting his lip when he sees the way your hand barely wraps around his cock. "Even... if… you're already doing so good."

You shudder, instinctively pressing yourself closer.

He's getting slicker, more precum pearling out the tip and staining your hand. You never thought he sounded prettier than he does right now, moaning and groaning like he just can't help it.

Then he adds a gentle twist at the top that makes him lean his head back and whimper.

"Feels good?"

"Really good," he whines, his chest heaving with his uneven breaths. "You can… hah! You can also grab my.."

Caleb can't finish his sentence, too preoccupied, but he wordlessly grabs your free hand and guides it down to his balls.

You bite your lip, your thighs squeezing together. "What—? What do I do?"

"Just… just squeeze 'em. Just a little, just—Fuck! Like that, like that! Pips—" His hips buck up, fucking himself through your fist. "Oh, God…!"

Your whole body burns as his face pinches with pleasure. You had no idea he had this side to him.

But you know you want to make him come undone. Want to hear every sound he's capable of when he's on the edge. When he's so close it drives him crazy.

You stroke faster, and Caleb lets you, his hand passively resting on yours. You're so caught up, you don't even notice, but you feel him twitching, hear him breathing heavier.

He's close.

But you still want more. Just a little. You don't care if it's selfish.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you whisper, "Can I taste you?"

Caleb blinks, eyes wide. "What? You want to…?"

You nod, already easing your hand away and slipping off the couch to kneel between his legs.

Caleb watches, a strained gasp leaving his lips as you press a kiss to his inner thigh. "I want to… I haven't done it yet, but I really wanna try…"

"Yeah," he exhales shakily. "Yeah—fuck—whatever you want, Pips."

He shifts his hips, fingers digging into the couch when you lean forward and kiss a teasing line up his cock. You stop at the sensitive head and dart your tongue out to taste him.

Warm. Thick. Salty.

Caleb groans into his lip, his hand shooting out as if to grab you, but he stops just above your head, fingers twitching.

"Fuck—I thought you said..." He doesn't finish, too focused on the way your mouth feels when you kiss the swollen tip. His breath stutters, cock twitching like he's seconds away from rutting into you.

"What?" you murmur, blinking up at him.

Caleb growls and turns his head to the side. "Don't look at me like that."

You lean in, kissing him again. "Why?"

Caleb tears his hand away from you, bringing it up to his face because he can't trust it to be near you anymore. "I'm trying to be respectful."

You smile, a little more confident now that you're getting to see Caleb how wrecked you can make him before you've even properly put your mouth on him.

"How respectful can you be when I'm on my knees for you?"

Caleb finally turns back toward you, barely holding himself still. Barely stopping himself from grabbing you and forcing your pretty mouth on his cock.

"Pips."

"Caleb." You press yourself closer, sliding your hands up his thighs, soaking in the way they flex under your touch. "I don't want you to be respectful. I just want you."

"Pips—You can't just—Are you sure?"

You nod, eyes big and pleading.

Caleb trembles. "Do you know what that means? What you're letting me do by saying that?"

You know. You know and you still want it. But you stay silent, because you know Caleb will tell you what he wants to do. And when he does, you can agree. Let him know just how much you want anything he'll give you.

"I'll fuck your throat until you're drooling, until you're crying." His warning sounds hollow, even to him. Because as respectful as he wants to be, he wants this. You—your mouth.

He wants it badly.

"Is that what you want?" Caleb's voice is strained.

"Yes. Yes, Caleb, and I want it. I want it so badly.."

That—your breathy whine, the way you melt into him when you say it—that does it. He fists his hand in your hair and drags you closer, your lips grazing his cock now.

Caleb lets you hover first, just for a second. "Tap me if you need to stop. Grab my wrist, push me, whatever works. I'll stop, okay?"

"I won't ask you to."

Caleb groans. You were going to kill him.

Without another word, he slowly eases into your mouth, his head tipping back as he feels your warm mouth wrap around his slick flesh again.

You're careful not to scrape your teeth against him, but it's hard to focus on anything when all you can think about is how good he stretches your mouth. How good it stings.

You moan, your brows pinching with effort as you try and take every inch.

Your throat works around him, tears already brimming in your eyes when he finally kisses the back of your throat. Caleb holds you there, his eyes fluttering shut and his chest heaving.

Then he pulls you off with a small gasp, before guiding you back down, slower this time. "You feel so good." He pants. "I want to stay here forever."

His dick twitches at his own words because he knows you'd let him. You'd let him stay here, buried in your mouth as long as he wanted, wouldn't you?

Caleb can't hold back anymore. With a guttural groan, he starts rutting into your mouth, his fingers curling painfully in your hair.

"You're doing so good for me, Pips," he croaks, sweat clinging to his brow. "Taking me so nice and deep..! Oh, fuck!"

He's shouting mindless filth, too stung out to care about how dirty or disrespectful he sounds anymore.

“And you look so pretty like this, on your knees in front of me—"

You moan around him, savoring every muttered word like it's the sweetest treat you've ever had.

"Wanna come in your mouth so bad."

You clench at his dirty words.

He grips you tighter, the sounds of your pretty gags bouncing off the walls. "You gonna let me?"

You can't nod, so you just blink up at him and try to hum a yes.

Caleb takes the cute bat of your eyelashes as a yes and ruts faster. "Fuck—! Such a good girl for me! Can't stop!"

Caleb's breaking. He's ruthless, chasing his orgasm with a single-minded focus, fucking into your mouth even as he apologizes. The contrast is filthy.

"Feels too good to stop, baby."

You moan around again and he hisses as the sound shoots up his spine.

"Especially when you moan—" he breaks off on a sound caught between a whimper and a groan, his hips coming off the bed while his hand pulls your mouth back on his cock like it's just some toy.

You're gagging, tears streaming down your cheeks, and drool smearing across your chin. You grip his thighs for support, barely noticing the way your nails dig into his skin and make him hiss.

"Shit—! Pips—I’m gonna—fuckkk—!” He jerks forward with a cry, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, thick and hot down your throat. His whole body goes rigid, muscles pulling taut as he shoots rope after rope.

You can feel him sliding down your throat, and your only regret is that you can taste him when he's so deep.

When the last twitches of his release roll through him, Caleb pulls you off. He lets out a shuddered breath as he looks down at you.

You're a mess—saliva is clinging to your lips and chin like a second skin, your lashes are wet, and tears are staining your puffy cheeks.

Caleb doesn't think this could get any better until you bend forward and lick the rest of his cock clean.

He jolts, his hips giving a weak little twitch. "Wait—! I already—" He tears his hand away from your head and grips the seat. "Hah—'Mm sensitive!" he groans out, screwing his eyes shut like that might help him.

You go slow, making sure you don't miss a single drop, and when you pull back, you give him a lazy, utterly mind-numbing smile and murmur, " Did I do good?"

Caleb sinks back against the cushions and shakes his head with a breathless laugh. "You—.. You're unbelievable."

He gently pulls you up into his lap, careful not to touch his softening cock, and wraps his arms around you.

"You did too good." He hides his face in your neck. "'M sorry 'm so tired."

You smile to yourself, peppering the side of his head with kisses.

"I promise.. when I'm not seeing stars I'll.."

"It's okay," you whisper. "I'm just glad I did okay."

Caleb laughs. "More than okay."

—

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