#office space utilization

[innerspaceca]

Maximizing Efficiency and Fostering Collaboration: Inner Space's Space Utilization

Inner Space is dedicated to maximizing efficiency and fostering collaboration through their expertise in office space utilization. With a keen understanding of workspace dynamics, we offer tailored solutions to optimize office layouts, improve workflow, and enhance productivity. By analyzing space utilization patterns and implementing strategic changes, Inner Space empowers businesses to create a harmonious and efficient work environment that promotes collaboration, creativity, and success.

[ladysophiebeckett]

the conceptos set design is like when ur playing sims for the first time, so u make the biggest house. just giant rectangular floor plan. and now u have more space than u needed and u dont know how fill said space. and it's orange everywhere. and there are echos where there shouldn't be.

[interiorergonomics]

Modern Open Office Design to Maximize Space

Modern open office design is all about creating efficient, collaborative, and visually appealing spaces. They must as well maximize the use of available square footage in order to be effective. Wherever possible eliminate unnecessary walls and partitions. Reason being that, such designs encourage better communication among employees while providing a sense of openness and flexibility. Key…

[nirvanabuilders]

How Garage Remodeling Can Add Usable Square Footage to Your Home

When you think about expanding your home, you might imagine knocking down walls or adding a new room, but have you considered the untapped potential of your garage? A garage remodeling project can be one of the most efficient ways to add usable square footage to your home without the need for a costly, time-consuming home extension. Whether you’re looking for additional living space, a home office, or a creative studio, transforming your garage into a functional room can provide immense value.

Why Choose Garage Remodeling?

Garages often become a dumping ground for old furniture, seasonal items, or tools, but they are rarely used to their full potential. By remodeling your garage, you’re not just adding extra square footage — you’re optimizing your space to fit your needs.

Here are some of the benefits of garage remodeling that go beyond just increasing usable space:

Cost-Effective Solution A garage conversion is a budget-friendly alternative to a traditional home expansion. With less need for structural changes and plumbing or electrical work (depending on your needs), remodeling your garage can save you money and time.

Instant Home Improvement When you remodel your garage, you’re increasing the overall value of your home. Whether you choose to create a home gym, guest room, or even an Airbnb rental, you’re boosting both the functionality and marketability of your property.

Tailor Your Space Unlike other rooms in the house, a garage transformation gives you the flexibility to customize the space according to your lifestyle. Want a cozy family room or a home office with plenty of natural light? With the right design, the possibilities are endless.

What Can You Do With Your Newly Remodeled Garage?

Home Office Working from home has become a permanent fixture for many, and your garage remodeling can help create a dedicated, peaceful environment for productivity. With proper insulation, lighting, and a few design tweaks, your garage can be transformed into an ideal office space away from the distractions of the rest of the home.

Additional Bedroom or Guest Suite If you have out-of-town guests or need more sleeping arrangements, converting your garage into a guest suite can be a great option. With a few key renovations, including proper flooring, insulation, and privacy features, you can create a comfortable and inviting space.

Creative Studio or Hobby Room Whether you're an artist, crafter, or just need a place to relax and unwind, a garage remodel can turn your once-empty space into a hobbyist’s paradise. The additional square footage provides plenty of room to work, store materials, and pursue your passions.

Home Gym Say goodbye to expensive gym memberships and long drives to the fitness center. A garage remodeling project can include flooring that’s gym-friendly, wall-mounted mirrors, and enough space to house all your workout equipment.

Key Considerations Before You Start

Planning and Zoning Before diving into any garage conversion project, it’s essential to check your local zoning laws and ensure that a conversion is allowed in your area. Some regions may have restrictions on structural changes, or require permits for converting garages into living spaces.

Insulation and Ventilation Garages can be poorly insulated and ventilated, which could make them uncomfortable for everyday use. Make sure to add proper insulation and HVAC systems to maintain a comfortable environment year-round.

Budget and Design Just like any remodeling project, garage transformations require careful planning. Setting a realistic budget and working with a design professional can help bring your vision to life while staying within financial limits.

[flammenxci]

New light for bathroom came in.

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[seat-safety-switch]

You might have heard from a child recently that the wheels on the bus go round and round. This is true, but only for a short period of time during the bus's existence. On even a short geologic time-scale, the wheels of the bus have remained largely inert. Over millions of years, any given city bus will spend a lot of time not having been created yet, being parked, and turned into a collection of ferrous oxide.

And a bus operates a lot more than any car. They have tens of thousands of hours on them when someone at Big Bus finally gives up. Your car, the one you love so very much, is parked like ninety-nine percent of the time. It mostly just chills around the house, or your office, or sometimes at the mall, while you're off having an exciting existence, filing spreadsheets or writing mean tweets to celebrities. Might as well not exist when you're not driving it. That's why the humourless pricks of Silicon Valley want to get rid of your car, and replace it with some kind of soulless automaton that will magically appear to ferry you around places. It's more efficient, they say, as if anybody gave a shit about efficiency.

All this means that, yes, we do waste a lot of space on "places to put our cars when we're not driving them." We could probably waste less space if we had smaller cars, or stacked them on top of each other, or parked our cars in the back of semi trucks that ejected them onto the highway like in Spy Hunter, but all those things cost more money than "just put it over there." There are positive movements, however, in space utilization. Lots of folks are living in their cars now, which means we no longer waste so much space on things like "beds" and "toilets," and can use more of it for parking and luxury condominium flips. Which are called investment vehicles, by the way.

So the next time you see a bus rolling, enjoy it. Take it in. It's a unique and delightful experience, and one worth reflecting on. This is not the natural order of things. For this one glorious moment, we are spiting the universe and making the wheels on the bus go round and round.

[smallestapplin]

Do you think Overlord from transformers would be type of guy "I love kinda of woman who can beat the sh t out of me"

Ok ok soo i imagine cybertronian reader who was able to beat the sh t out of Overlord who's now in love with cybertronian reader.

What would her team aka the lost light would react to this 😂😂

This had me cackling. Also I apologize I know you said fem but I don't know how to make the gender important to the story (I'm gender blind I'm so sorry.)

-

-

- you beating Overlord's aft was a miracle and a half. You utilized his pride and slowness against him, though struggling more than you'd like to admit, you managed to out pace him and put the large bot in his place.

- "I don't know what I did! I beat his aft and now he won't leave me alone! I even tell him off and that just seems to get him more interested!" Is what you cry to Rodimus about.

- "I'm gonna be real with you, I don't know how to help you with that. I mean, at least he's not going off the rails and starting fights?" It's all he's got. You know he's right, but it doesn't help you one bit, so yog end up groaning and slumping over in your seat. Roddy tries to pat your back and show you some cool earth thing he has, before Overlord finds you, and coos about how worried he was when you weren't in your habsuite, and glares at Rodimus.

- Overlord still tries to fight everyone, and by Primus Megatron gets it the worst, but he's happy all that's needed is for you to angrily yell Overlord's name and call him back like a dog. Megatron always breathes a sigh of relief when your enraged voice echoes through the room, calling for Overlord to "bring you aft over here right now, I swear to primus if I have to put down my report!-" and watch as the equally large bot instantly drops his fighting stance, rushing over to you, looking far too happy and pleased to be called by you (even if you aren't'.)

- You're tired, you just want to do you job and go about your day, not wake up from a statis to the large blue mech over you, holding a thing of energon for you and asking to spar.

- Ratchet and First Aid hear and see it the most, and believe Ratchet gives you high an audio processor full. You send Overlord to the med bay frequently, and he can't even scold the bot into being more careful cause he's not even listening! He has to deal with Overlord staring at you and not even hearing him.

- First Aid tries to help in that regard, explaining to you that this is getting out of servo, but Overlord nearly throws a medical berth at him for it, only stopping when you glare at him.

- "I fight him, he likes it, I ignore him, he likes that too! Nothing I do sends the massage home for him."

- Ultra Magnus wants to help, trust him he does! This is classified as harassment and he swore to always help his crew members....but....you are literally the only thing keeping Overlord docile, and First Aid and Rodimus have already reported that Overlord does try to swing at them for interfering.

It's safer for everyone to not, after all you seem to handle yourself just fine! You're a strong bot that can handle one of the strongest gladiators in history! He lets you vent as much as you need, but eventually has to tell you he can help once Overlord oversteps.

- Lucky you, you don't have to worry about that. Overlord is obsessed with beating you in battle, but also he loves fighting you, you carry yourself with such strength and confidence once against him, he's smitten. With your speed, to him, it makes your battles feel like a dance! Your movements and skill have him smitten, as does your attitude, your fire and sass have him weak in the knees.

- Prowl is somehow your only ride or die here, he's more worried about what Overlord could do but doesn't think before shouting at him to give you space or to frag off, the temperamental officer goes into protective mode when it comes to you.

- Overlord does not like Prowl because of this, but you cling to your friend in thanks.

- "It's every damn cycle, don't you have a hobby!? Frag I don'tknow, watch a movie, pick up blacksmithing, SOMETHING!" Prowl barely has time to dodge a swift punch, but he manages, and next thing you know there does the fourth table of the week, followed by more shouting, and you having to yell for Overlord to knock it off.

- Rung is definitely getting good use as a therapist, he's trying his best to give you coping skills to help ease your frustrations with your situation, and while they work, you just come back to tell him you came back to your habsuite to Overlord on your berth, and pulling you into his lap.

- "It's rude he didn't ask before doing so."

- "AND THEN HE ASKED TO SPARK BOND, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?"

- "Oh my, he asked to spark bond-"

- Even just trying to have a professional conversation with you turns into a chore, not because of you, but because of the angry look guard dog standing behind you, glaring down at anyone speaking to you.

[seiwas]

two-part something (shouto x reader)

wc: 1.3k

contains: christmas, holiday parties, santa, mid-20's pro-hero!shouto x assistant!reader

full fic sequel: three-part honesty

a/n: just a lil writing exercise on shouto! first time writing him hehe

shouto’s late to his agency’s holiday party tonight. 

he breathes out, warmth floating as white puffs from his lips. the heating system on his office floor has been turned off, subtext directed solely to him: whoever’s here today, at this time, shouldn’t be.

his fingers move deftly around his waist, routinary—utility belt unbuckling as he reaches his desk. 

the venue for tonight is on one of the lower floors—a function room where briefings and press conferences are normally held. the number of attendees has grown compared to last year’s, sidekicks doubling and staff tripling; expected, given the agency’s projected growth next quarter. 

this is the agency’s third move since humble days in a rented studio unit (one shouto stubbornly and adamantly paid for fully, on his own), but one thing’s invariably stayed the same—

shouto’s office has always existed in its own space, whether tucked in a corner or spread out over an entire floor.

and wherever that space is, so are you. 

he settles in his seat, leather creaking as he twists to stretch his back. it’s been a long night, being dispatched earlier for an emergency downtown. his hand reaches for the folder on his desk, fingers swiping to release the yellow paper clip on the far left corner—evidence of your presence. 

since being hired as his assistant five years ago, you’ve devised a system for shouto that he now deems essential to keeping his entire agency afloat. his own urgency for paperwork hinges on the color of your paper clips (blue for next month, green for next week, yellow for tomorrow, and red for now).  

he should listen to you; the details of this evening’s take-down can be set aside for tomorrow—tomorrow, when everyone’s allowed to clock-in midday for the sake of tonight’s festivities. knowing you though, you’ll still show up early, if only to go over his desk, ensuring to swap that yellow paper clip for red. 

if he finishes this now, you won’t need to ensure anything; in all the years you’ve been his first and only assistant–a perfect match for how much of a workaholic he is–you might actually opt to sleep in for once. 

besides, it’s more productive if he gets it over with; crimes and mishaps never take breaks to party, after all—even during the holidays. 

that’s what he’ll tell you, at least. 

the party’s more for everyone else than him, anyway. 

he clicks his pen, letting out another puff of warm air as he spreads the document in front of him: 

page 1: basic information. identification details, time markers, a summary of the take-down. 

page 2: breakdown of events. scene-by-scene, additional comments, a two-beat knock on his door. 

then comes your voice, soft, unsure—

“sir?” 

—before you step inside, heels clicking against the natural stone finish of his office floor. 

he looks up, wide-eyed, piercing gray and blue. 

your gaze flits to the papers in front of him, eyebrows scrunching before you sigh. there’s an all-too-familiar smile on your face, a quiet chuckle brought about by how characteristic it is of him to be in this situation right now. 

“sir, that report is tagged yellow.” 

he shifts, looking at your paper clip; without a word, the leather of his seat crinkles again. it’s like this with shouto sometimes, you’ve come to learn: a non-response is a response on its own.

when his eyes meet yours, you shiver. 

goosebumps litter the sides of your arms, the decision to forego your blazer leaving yourself exposed to the chill of tonight’s office air. you try to hide it, but some things are impossible to keep from shouto. 

of course he notices your jaw quivering. 

“are you cold?” he stands up immediately, already moving halfway out from behind his desk.

“i’m okay, sir,” you stop him just as quickly, hands motioning for him to stay where he is.

two beats of silence find him tilting his head, gaze as intense as it’s always been pointed towards you. 

“shouto.”

“pardon, sir?” you step closer, leaning forward. 

“call me shouto.” 

the red fabric in your hand almost slips from your hold. 

this isn’t the first time shouto’s insisted on you using his name—he offered it up the moment he hired you, and the day you searched store after store for his thrifted leather chair during the agency’s second move; he’s suggested it plenty over the years, a casual reminder that it’s no big deal—if the world can call him shouto, so should you. 

pro-hero shouto, top three in the charts. 

pro-hero shouto, late to his agency’s holiday party because of paperwork—his tendency to be a workaholic. 

pro-hero shouto, asking you to call him shouto, but not in the way the world does. 

his eyes don’t leave yours as you blink, swallowing down your feelings (inappropriate, you tell yourself). 

“shouto.” you repeat. 

he nods slightly, a small, imperceptible lift to the corners of his lips. there’s an awkward pause as he looks down to the papers on his desk then up at you again.

“the party,” you clear your throat, smoothing out the fabric between your fingers, “you’re running late to your own party, si–shouto.” 

he tilts his head again, confused, “is this party not for everyone else?” 

you blink—he’s got you there. 

“i guess that’s true,” you sigh, chuckling. a pause, “that report is still yellow, though.” 

blue and gray land on white, bond papers spread out on his desk. he could argue with you, but where has that ever gotten him? you’ve kept him in check for years—it’s how he’s managed to stay on top of things. 

he looks down at his jumpsuit, the same shade of blue since he was 15. not much has changed with the design of his hero suit, just an overall sleeker design fit to match his age. the utility belt still exists, albeit more compact and less clunky; a similar modification was done to the straps that run down the sides of his chest. 

if anything, the biggest change is how the suit has molded around him—shoulders more defined, arms large enough for the fabric to cling onto it. shouto’s build has always been lean, but the areas of defined muscle stick out more evidently now that he’s older, much taller and wider.  

“i don’t have a costume.” he pouts.

you grin, stepping closer to his desk, hips digging into the edge. the red santa hat unfurls from your hands as you wave it in front of him—a perfect match to the shades of his hair. 

he blinks before you catch it, the slight curve of his lips as he leans forward, dipping his head low enough for you to reach the top of it. you tiptoe just a bit when you open up the hat to place it over his head.

you’re gentle with your touch, fingers running through the strands of his hair lightly; you tuck them neatly underneath the fluffy white rim of the santa hat. 

(it’s warmer near him, you notice—his quirk regulating a circumference of heat around himself that extends to you right now, you know. but you’re confident you’d still feel your own version of it–on your cheeks, down your neck–even if he weren’t). 

the hat sits perfectly atop his head, much like anything else that’s on him. when you lean back, moving away to take a better look, you notice it—

midnight blue, the backdrop on shouto’s floor-to-ceiling windows, littered with speckles of white—the first snowfall, and one you stand in awe of.

—gasping at the sight. 

you’re still so near when your eyes light up, zeroing in on the view behind him. you can’t help it, that smile on your face, bright and pretty, he thinks; it’s a short moment, but he feels it, a two-part ‘ba-dump’ that resounds in his heartbeat. 

a/n: they thrift the chair bc it's real leather so buying a new one is just no-no + he texts natsuo otw home after the party that he feels a bit funny! (it's just his feelings 😭)

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[lyjen]

Clipboards and utility knives

Summary: When Hen and Eddie are running late for shift, Evan has to jump in to help his girlfriend on a call. But that doesn’t go quite as planned.

Warning: Mentions of blood, guns & bullets and cutting into skin

9-1-1 masterlist :)

With a clipboard in her hand, (Y/n) wrote down the inventory numbers. Hen and Eddie were nowhere to be found and Chimney had a day off. Meanwhile Bobby, Evan and (Y/n) were already at the station, ready for their shift to begin.

Evan walked through the door of the locker room into the open space of the station. When his eyes fell on his girlfriend, who was standing with her back towards the locker room Evan had just left. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and she held the pen of the clipboard against her jaw as she was focussing on inventory. He walked towards her and let his arms fall around her neck as he gave her a hug from behind. She flinched, he could tell. He felt how her heartbeat fastened when his arms fell against her skin.

“How is my favorite paramedic doing?” He asked as he kissed her cheek. She smiled, as she turns her head to the side, so she could look at him while he still had his arms around her neck.

“I thought Eddie was your favorite paramedic” she answered and she let her eyes fall back on the clipboard in her hands. “Yeah, don’t tell him. But you’re actually my favorite. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.” He laughs, and planted another kiss on her cheek. “Hmmm” she reacted, her answer sounded like a “Yeah sure.” And she wrote another set of numbers down on her inventory list.

She tried to ignore Evan, she wanted to finish inventory as soon as possible. But it was hard when he was hanging around her shoulders, trying to get her attention in every possible way.

“(Y/n)” A familiar voiced called from above. Evan quickly let go of his grip he had on her, and both their bodies turned around. Bobby was standing at the railing from the loft. “Hen called, she is running late. So you’re the PIC until she gets here, okay?” Bobby asked for her agreement. She nodded, “yes cap.” And Bobby left the loft railing, heading towards his office she assumed.

“Ah so you’re the paramedic in charge now huh?” Evan teased her when he turned towards his girlfriend. She smiled as he poked her in both of her sides. “Shut up Buckley, don’t you have anything else to do?” She says as she tries to slap him away with her clipboard, while he poked her one more time. “Well..-“

“Ambulance one-eighteen, injury from a fall. Six, seven, one South Wooster street.” The bell sounded through the firehouse while red alarm light shined through the space of the firehouse. “Guess I’m going with you” he reformed his answer.

“That’s right around the corner.” (Y/n) said as she listened at the street name they just mentioned through the speakers. (Y/n) threw her clipboard on a bench in front of the gym, as Evan closed both back doors on the ambulance. (Y/n) took place at the drivers seat, and drove out of the station in the ambulance with Evan in the passenger seat next to her.

Normally (Y/n) would be driving with Hen, but she was running late, and Eddie was nowhere to be found. Evan couldn’t let her go alone on a call, as paramedics they were always with a minimum of two. Yes, Evan wasn’t really a paramedic, but he had some basic skills he could use to assist (Y/n) with.

When they arrived on location, they needed to enter an alleyway with the ambulance to reach the victim. The man wasn’t hard to find, he was lying on the ground in the abandoned alley, screaming out from the pain he received. Evan and (Y/n) jumped out of the ambulance and hurried towards the injured man.

“Sir where did you fall from?” Evan asked the homeless man, who was still screaming out his lungs. The call at the station said the man fell. “Did you fall sir?” (y/n) tried to connect with the man. “My legs! My legs!” He panics, as he tries to grab his legs.

“Okay, deep breaths. What’s your name sir?” She asked the man, trying to gather more information about the man who was down on the ground. Evan crouched down to meet the man’s height. And pulled the blanket off the homeless man his legs, to try and take a look at his injuries.

His legs were crushed. Snapped in multiple pieces. Evan’s eyes shot at (Y/n) when he saw the wounds. Bones were sticking out of the man’s lower leg.

“Buck get the medic bag and give me a needle with a flask with morphine, would you.” She ordered him. He nodded, and stood up straight when Evan’s eyes fell on a truck which’s engine was still running at the end of the street. The truck was standing completely still. “He didn’t fell, he was run over.” He concluded. And he ran towards the ambulance to get the medic bag and give the man the help he needed.

Evan took out an IV tube from the medic bag and passed a needle with a flacon of morphine to (Y/n). Evan searched for a vein in the man’s hand, while (Y/n) filled the needle with the right amount of fluids. “Get the splint out of the ambulance.” She ordered Evan.

When (Y/n) was pushing fluids through the man’s IV, Evan took out a piece of cardboard they carried with them to make a splint out to put the man’s leg in it to keep it straight. Carefully Buck tried to put the man’s legs in the splint and secured them so they could transport him to the hospital. (Y/n) got the gurney out of the ambulance and put the backboard next to the man so they could get the man easier on the gurney.

When the man was laid back on the gurney they secured the straps of the gurney around the man’s body. “He has passed out from blood loss. Let’s get him to Mercy Hospital” (Y/n) said to Evan. He nodded. (Y/n) secured the last strap around the man. When she noticed a car engine come closer, she looked up and saw a car enter the alleyway. “Who’s that?” She asked Evan. Evan looked at her confused. He was standing with his back towards the entrance of the alleyway. He turned his body ninety degrees to take a look to see what she was talking about.

It was a black vehicle that drove into the alley and stopped. Two men stepped out of the car and started walking towards Evan and (Y/n), who were still taking care of the wounded man on the gurney.

“Hey! We have got an medical emergency here, we need you to move the vehicle.” Evan told the two men. “Buck..” (Y/n) silently spoke as she noticed the two men were pointing a gun towards them. “Hands in the air, and keep your mouth shut.” One of their voices spoke. (Y/n) looked to her right, facing Evan’s blue eyes. As they both raised their hands. “It’s gonna be okay.” He said without a sound.

One of the men roughly grabbed (Y/n)’s shoulder and turned her around. “Hey! hey! don’t touch her!” Evan yelled, as he tried to reach out for (Y/n)’s arm. But Evan got pushed against a concrete wall next to him. Her hands were being bonded together with a cable tie, and so were Evan’s. “Wh- this guy needs to get to a hospital!” She said, unsure what was happening. She groaned as the cable tie started to cut into her wrist because of the tightness. “Just do what we say and nobody gets hurt” is the only thing the guy said. And they pushed Evan and (Y/n) towards the car they used to block the alley with.

“Just let her go man!” Evan said to both of the men, but they just ignored him and continued to push him. “(Y/L/N) Don’t get in that car!” Evan tried to warn her, as she tries to struggle against the man’s strength. She was too weak for the man, and she got pushed into the car.

The man who had a hold on Evan didn’t appreciate the message he told (Y/n). The guy slammed his gun against his eyebrow before he got forced into the car.

………………………….……………………………………

“Anyone heard from Buck and (Y/n)?” Eddie asked when he walked up the stairs after he got dressed into his uniform. Hen shook her head. “Nope, all I know is that they went out with the ambulance about two hours ago. And that was before I got here.” Hen answered to Eddie’s question while she took a sip out of her coffee cup. Hen leaned back against the kitchen counter as Eddie walked into the kitchen now.

Eddie was already hopping around the firehouse for an hour. This morning had been hectic. He was late to bring Chris to school, and ended up stuck in traffic when he tried to make his way to the firehouse. Eddie’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that. Normally they would’ve been back here already. The average call for paramedics is about an hour. And their call was already taking two. Eddie lets his hands rest on his hips. “That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Bobby’s voice joined the conversation they were having as he was walking into the kitchen.

“Eddie thinks it’s weird that the ambulance hasn’t returned yet from their call.” Hen answered Bobby’s question. Bobby was thinking. “They’ve been out for two hours now, could they be rerouted to another scene?” Eddie asked. “It could be… let me make a call and see if Buck picks up.” Bobby said as he reached for his phone.

Bobby unlocked his phone and tapped on Buck’s contact in his list. He held his phone to his ear. “That’s weird..” Bobby begins as he removes the phone from his ear, after a few seconds. “It goes straight to voicemail.” He continues his conclusion. Hen and Eddie both gave Bobby a confused look.

“Let me try to reach (Y/n).” Hen said as she picked her phone out of her pocket, while still leaning on the kitchen counter. Phone in the right hand, and her coffee cup in her left hand. She tries to reach (Y/n)’s phone. “Hi this is (Y/n), leave a message after the tone!” Hen clicks on the red button to hang up the phone. “Straight to voice mail.”

“This can’t be right…” Eddie says. “Let’s not freak out yet, I’m gonna call dispatch to see if they have any updates on our ambulance.” Bobby tries to remain calm. But he has a gut feeling that this wasn’t good. Buck always answered Bobby’s phone calls. Buck looked up at Bobby, he saw Bobby as his role model.

“This is Captain Nash, station 118. Do you have a location on our ambulance 118?” He asked dispatch. He waited a few seconds. “We haven’t received a status update from firefighter Buckley and (Y/L/N). However the location of the tracker says that they’re on 671 South Wooster street.” The dispatcher answered Bobby’s question. Every rig had a transmitter on them, so dispatch could see where every team was at every moment. Bobby thanked the person on the phone and hung up. Bobby’s hands clasped together.

“Put on your gear let’s go, we’re gonna take a ride.”

……………………………………………………………….

While they were driving, their radio’s along with their cellphones were thrown out of the car window.

They came to a stop, the men roughly pulled Evan and (Y/n) out of the car. Evan was grabbed by the collar of his button up shirt and (Y/n) at her arms. But as soon as (Y/n) struggled against the touch of the man, he grabbed a hand full of her hair. When Evan heard his girlfriend let out a squeal, his eyes locked on her. “Hey! Don’t you touch her!” He yelled.

“Do you want me to blow out your brain?!” The guy who was holding Evan at his shirt threatened him. He had his gun pointed on his sleep. Evan squeezed his eyes closed, realising that was not his best move. He froze. “Nah, didn’t think so” he said.

(Y/n) knew she had to leave some evidence outside, for her team to know where to look. She always wore her plain ring, it was the ring she got from Evan. A plain ring was one of the few things she could wear during the job. She didn’t have anything else to use as a sign for their team to find them. So she tried to shuffle the ring off her finger and let it drop silently.

Evan felt the metal of the gun leaning against the back of his head, when he got pushed forward inside of an abandoned building. (Y/n) followed after him, the man still had his hand full of her hair. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes as the man pulled her hair and pushed her forward into Evan’s chest. He couldn’t catch her with his hands, which were still tied together. “Are you okay?” Evan whispered silently, barely audible. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She whispered back.

“Come on man, what do you want?” Evan asked, trying to find out these guys their motive. “You two, are gonna save him.” One of the men pointed his gun at both of them, switching the gun every second between Evan and (Y/n). He pointed behind the two of them. They both turned around, and (Y/n)’s eyes fell on a man lying unconscious on the ground, with a puddle of blood underneath him. The other guy cut their cable ties loose, so they could do their jobs. Save lives.

Evan took a glance at his girlfriend next to him. “You don’t have to do this.” He tried to talk (Y/n) out of it. She was just, staring at the man. But it wasn’t like she had a choice. They were held at gunpoint. “I’ll need equipment if you want me to safe his life.”

One of them grabbed a utility knife, alcohol and some glue. And put that on the table. That was what they were working with. This was gonna be a challenge. “Buck, help me get this man on this table” (Y/n) ordered as she got the unconscious man’s legs, while Evan put out his forearms and hooked them both underneath the man’s armpits.

(Y/n) grabbed the utility knife and poured alcohol on it to disinfect the blade she was about to cut into the man’s neck. She stood at the side of the unconscious man. The man had a bullet stuck in his neck, and they wanted the paramedics help to get it out. Of course they wouldn’t want to go to a hospital with a gunshot wound in your neck.

Trying to get the courage to actually perform surgery in the field. What was she thinking? She wasn’t a trauma surgeon. She wasn’t a doctor. She was only a paramedic. Evan stood next to (Y/n), waiting for her to shout orders. Her breathing became faster, (Y/n) could hear her own heartbeat ringing in her ears. The feeling of panic and anxiety rushed through her veins. She couldn’t do it. Both men were nervously walking behind (Y/n) and Evan.

Buck could sense that (Y/n) was starting to reach her breaking point. He’d do anything he could to prevent that from happening. She would go into a full blown panic attack right now and that’s not what they wanted.

“Let me do it.” Evan offered as he put his hand on her trembling hand which was curled around the knife. And he slightly pushed her away. An impatient voice took over the silence of the room. “Come on! What’s the damn’ hold up!” He said as he violently pointed the gun towards Evan and the other guy pointed the gun towards his girlfriend.

They both held up their hands. “It’s okay, we’re going to help your friend.” Evan managed to say. “Just put the guns away.” He continued. They both lowered their guns, as one of them put his one on an other table.

The men were facing the back of both Evan and (Y/n). Evan took a moment to breathe, as he made a cut into the unconscious man’s neck, trying to reveal the bullet. He couldn’t make the incision too big, but he had to put his fingers through the incision so he could get out the bullet. That’s what they wanted, right? Evan looked into (Y/n)’s eyes and gave her unnoticed the blade of the utility knife, which she shove into her sleeve so it was resting on her wrist.

Evan held out his hand towards (Y/n) who was holding the alcohol in her hand. And she poured the fluid over his hand. She knew what he was going to do. Without hesitation he pushed two fingers inside the wound, and yanked out the bullet. He panted, he actually did it. “Alright. The bullet is out.” Evan announced. “Good.”

One of the guys walked towards (Y/n) as he yanked her arms together. “Hey! We did what you asked, now let us go.” Evan told them. And (Y/n) got tied up again. “Will you shut up!” The other guy sounded when he grabbed Evan at his arm. (Y/n) shuffled the blade of the knife she got in her sleeve, up and down the cable tie when the man left her side.

And it snapped loose.

She was within hand reach of the gun they had placed on a table nearby (Y/n). She didn’t think for a moment and pointed the gun towards the two men. “Drop the gun.” She told the one who was holding Evan’s arms together and holding his gun. Both of the guys stood there with a confused look projected over her face. “I said drop it!” The man took a moment to take in what was happening, and tries to straighten his arm so the gun would be pointed towards (Y/n). But before the man could do that, he received an arm who was yanking him backwards from her boyfriend. The guy tried to pull the trigger as he hit the floor with a bullet.

(Y/n) flinched by the sound of a shot being fired. The other man tried to come closer towards (Y/n). “Don’t come closer” she warned him, as she keeps the gun pointed at the man. “We both know you wouldn’t pull that trigger.” He said calmly, as he took another step forward. “Want to make a bet?” She said challenging the man, as she fired the gun at the concrete wall on her left. But when the man took another step forward. That’s when she pulled the trigger and shot the man in his leg. He was screaming out in pain, and fell to the floor.

While the other guy was still fighting Evan, he tried again to shoot in the direction of (Y/n). But she dodged the bullet. Evan punched the guy in his stomach and onto his sleep so he went unconscious.

(Y/n) felt her knees buckling, like the energy was getting pulled out of her body. She didn’t have the energy to stand anymore. Evan rushed towards his girlfriend as he catches her just in time and pulls her in a hug. Her arms were hanging around his neck, and one of his arms was resting on her waist trying to hold her weight. And the other one was holding her back, trying to comfort her but also to give her support.

Evan lowered them together to their knees, so they were on an even height. Her face was buried into his neck, crying out loud. His shirt was already cresting wet spots because of her tears. “Ssssh, you did great baby. You were so brave.” He tried to comfort his girlfriend. He could see the whole time that she was struggling. Every time he took a glance at her face, he wanted to squeeze her hand. Tell her she was going to be okay. Tell her, she didn’t need to worry because he would protect her. His arm travels from her shoulder blades down to her lower back, again and again as he tries to reassure her she was okay. He pulled back from the hug, and let his hands fell on both her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear rolled over her cheek again. Evan’s thumb brushed the tear away, pushed a kiss to her temple and pulled her into his arms again.

“LAPD, put your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers!” A familiar voice rang through the abandoned building they were still in. “Get that guy!” She ordered the other cop behind her as Athena cuffed one other guy.

“Buck! (Y/n)!” Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as they noticed them both on the ground. Blood on their hands and on their faces. Eddie, Hen and Bobby crouched down aside of the hugging couple. Bobby put his hands both on Evan’s and (Y/n)’s shoulder and basically created a group hug when Eddie and Hen also joined in. For this story they were gonna need a lot of therapy sessions.

[innerspaceca]

InnerSpace is a company that specializes in optimizing office space utilization through the use of smart technology. Their solution involves installing sensors throughout the office space to collect data on occupancy, temperature, and other environmental factors. This data is then analyzed using machine learning algorithms to provide insights on how to improve space utilization.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is interesting. A tiny, adorable, 1893 Victorian cottage, wedged between buildings in San Francisco, CA was remodeled to look much larger inside. It has 3bds, 3ba, they are not giving the square footage of the house, nor the dimensions of any of the rooms (hmmm...), but the price is $2.385m. It's very skillfully done, but not $2m skillful. Take a look at this little house completely squeezed in between two buildings.

The mini Victorian has a narrow center hall with a sitting room off to the side, just like a large Victorian. It even has pocket doors.

The fireplace is custom made, so I don't think that these are original tiles.

The pocket doors open to a bedroom.

Across the hall from the sitting room there's a cute home office.

Then 3 stairs go down to a very nice dining room. It's so cozy, but not meant for a large dinner party. They installed modern wainscoting, which is what you find in a Victorian dining room.

Tiles similar to the living room fireplace grace the surround.

The kitchen is surprisingly roomy and has lots of storage.

The 2nd bedroom is a good size.

The baths are small 3pc. style.

The primary bedroom looks like a new addition and features a beautiful window, a vaulted wood ceiling, and a fireplace.

It also has a nice walk-in closet.

And, an ensuite shower room.

Here's a nice room. It looks like an art studio.

There's a sizeable home gym in the basement.

Plus a utility room.

There's a pretty big garage, too.

I like the porch in front of the house.

There's a surprisingly nice yard and garden in the back. A couple of decks and a patio on several levels provide plenty space to relax.

3,250 sq ft lot

https://www.zillow.com/homes/340-Eureka-St-San-Francisco,-CA-94114_rb/15130314_zpid/?

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Exhausted

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 1.5K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: grumpy reader, hurt/comfort, crying, Christian being a sweetie pie

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

Today seemed to be full of nothing but bad things happening one after the other. You were late to work because your phone was set to go off at 7 PM instead of 7 AM. Your shoe broke on the way to work. Some careless teenager spilled their drink on you without so much as an apology on the subway. Your boss pulled you in for a meeting and fired you for “unsatisfactory performance” despite never getting any warnings and being promoted to a new position in the last month. You felt this horrible pit of rage in your chest but anger never lasted long with you. It almost always turned into sadness. You left your office building with the few personal items you had on your desk. Your eyes watered but you refused to cry in public so you walked to the subway with your lips drawn tight and your eyes unfocused. The subway ride was silent, to you at least; blocking out the world around you. When you got home you sighed at the late rent notice on your door. You tore it off and entered your apartment. You set your things on the counter without a word before walking to your bedroom. You kicked off your shoes before you let yourself fall face first into your bed. You finally let out all the pain you were holding in. Not just from today, it had been building for a while and your depression was especially bad as of late. To make matters worse, Christian had been MIA for the past 3 days and you had no idea why. You felt so conflicted about everything, so angry yet sad. You let it all out until you eventually cried yourself to sleep.

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

Christian smiled when he saw you curled up in the middle of your bed. He quietly shut the door before deciding to tidy up your apartment, giving you more time to rest. As he finished putting the flowers he got you in a vase he noticed the box of trinkets on the counter. He had seen some of them in snapchats you sent him from your desk while you were at work. He knew he shouldn’t snoop but the bright red crumpled up paper in the box was too tempting to not look at. His face fell when he saw the late notice. His brain started to connect the pieces. He put the paper back in the box before he swiftly made his way to your apartment's leasing office. He paid your rent out through the end of your lease, utilities too. He ran a few blocks down from your place and picked up some food for the two of you. When he returned he set the food down on the counter before finally going to wake you up. 

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

You stirred awake at the large hand slightly shaking you. When you opened your eyes and saw Christian all you could do was stare at him. His face fell slightly when you did nothing but look at him. 

“Hi baby!” he said, holding out his arms to you.

You said nothing as you moved past him to get out of bed. You changed your clothes into something comfier before walking to your balcony. You sat on the ground with your back against the window. Being on the 15th floor had its perks, the sunsets were always beautiful to watch.

Christian couldn’t help the pang he felt in his chest when you failed to acknowledge him. However - he had seen this before. Selective mutism and isolation were classic signs that your depression was reaching into a very dark place. He changed into comfy clothes he had stashed away at your apartment before following you out to the balcony and sitting with you. 

You scooted further away from him, wanting space. 

“Baby are you ok? Do you want to talk?” he asked softly.

You let out a breathy laugh, “Now you want to talk to me.” you mumbled.

Christian’s stomach dropped; he hadn’t talked to you in days due to the constant meetings and finishing the tour. He knew that talking to you on the phone was a comfort for you both and three days without contact was particularly inconsiderate of him. He kicked himself mentally for keeping you in the dark. It would have been so easy to text you yet he was mindless and didn’t. “There’s no excuse for me not talking to you. Everything got so busy and… I’m sorry jagi, I truly am.” he said sincerely. 

“I’m sure you are.” you said as you brought your knees to your chest. You couldn’t help but feel anger bubbling inside you. Of course he had to be sweet and kind and accountable. You just wanted to unload on someone. “I didn’t even notice you weren’t talking to me. Just like I didn’t notice being late to work. Or my shoe break. Or my bag get drenched by some idiot on the subway. Or being completely blindsided and getting fired. Or the beautiful late rent notice on my door when I got home. I didn’t notice any of it because I’m just so fucking dandy over here absolutely nothing bothers me.” you said, glaring at him.

He knew none of this was his fault and you were just angry. He had never seen it come out so verbal though. Despite the anger and venomous words he saw the tears fighting to stay in your eyes. He reached out slowly. You wanted to resist, to chew him out further. But the second he had you curled up in his arms you started crying again. He stroked your hair as you let it all out, telling him how shit everything had been for the past two weeks and how it was making your already bad depression even worse. 

When your sobs turned to random sniffles Christian stood you both up quietly. He kissed your cheeks before taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen. You smiled softly when you saw the flowers, your favorites. You also saw the food set on the counter in the little to go boxes. Your eyes welled up again but for a completely different reason. Christian grabbed you by your hips and set you on the counter. 

He stood between your legs and held your hands as he spoke, “Here’s the plan: were gonna eat and watch Terrifier 3 since you’ve been dying to see it. Were gonna take a bath after that, accompanied with a massage from yours truly. Were gonna eat the last of the ice cream in the freezer. Were gonna have some crazy sex because I have missed this wonderful body of yours. Then we are gonna go to bed because tomorrow I am taking you to Busan for a little get away. Sounds good?” he asked.

You smiled and nodded before you let out a sigh, “I have to look for another job. My last check is going to cover the rent that's already late.” 

“That leads to my next, very important question.” he said with a smile. “Will you move in with me?” he smiled.

You stared at him dumbfounded for a second. “Christian I can’t pay rent for a one bedroom. How am I supposed to split rent with you for a penthouse in Gangnam? I have 6 months left on this lease too, I don’t just have 10 grand to get out of it.”

Christian pulled you into a hug, smoothing his hands over your back. He felt your muscles relax before he pulled back slightly. “I have taken care of all that. You just need to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.” 

“Christian… you didn’t…” you said, slightly shocked but also slightly guilty. You never wanted him to pay for anything because you never wanted him to think you were using him for money.

“Baby - I have more money than I know what to do with. Let me take care of you.” he said, kissing your cheek.

“Yes.” you whispered before looking up at him. 

Christian pulled back to hold your face in his hands, “Really? You’ll move in?!” he said with a giddy look on his face.

You kissed him softly at first before deepening it. He had a lovesick look on his face when you both gasped for air. “Yes I will move in with you.” 

He crushed you in a hug, “This is great baby. You can decorate it however you want. I’ll have movers come tomorrow and we can tell your leasing office to shove it. You can finally have that art studio you’ve always wanted. We can buy you a desk too so you can write to your heart's content!” he babbled happily. 

“One thing at a time babes.” you said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry I was grumpy earlier. You didn’t deserve that.” you said sincerely. 

Christian waved his hand, “it’s fine. I'm here for you just like you’re here for me. Now - let's eat!” he said, tickling your sides before kissing you once more. 

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

Naboo's Note:

Back from the dead! Hope you guys enjoy. My inbox is flooded with DPR IAN requests so I'm trying to knock a few out. As always I appreciate your patience. I lost my job Tuesday so I will have more time to write fics but also need time to find a new job ASAP. XOXOXOXOX

[interiorergonomics]

How Interior Designers Recommend Office Furniture in Dubai

When exploring how interior designers recommend office furniture in Dubai, several factors come into play, including the unique cultural, economic, and environmental aspects of the region. Let’s delve into these considerations with a deep discussion, incorporating questions to probe further and provide clarity, along with an example to illustrate the process. 1. Cultural Sensitivity and…

[fanaticsnail]

Mommy: Charlotte Cracker

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word count: 2,200+

Themes: Cracker x f!reader, gendered terms used, mdni, NSFW, 18+, smut, kink, Mommy x Baby (not related, just a kink), breast sucking, male masturbation, pre-established relationship, not much plot, feelings if you squint.

Notes: Just a 40+yo man needing some TLC from his partner.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heavy were the footfalls of the brass-buckled boots that stomped throughout the lengthy corridor. Each rhythmic clunk impacting the floor began to arrive all the nearer to your office door, prompting you to lull your head back on your shoulders and draw up your thumb and index fingers to massage your temples.

The energy radiating from beyond the door was already chock full of anxiety and agitation, hints of rage and anger simmering within their giant body. Fumes would be seeping from his ears if it could, that you were sure of. As soon as your door swung wide, you were greeted to the sight you had come to expect at least once a week within your office: an office not suited for the purpose you utilized it for.

Anger and rage weeped from his every pore, his face contorted in a gruff grimace and curling his scar up to a tight coil. Immediately as you made eye contact with him, he slammed the office door shut behind him with his lips curled back to bare his teeth at you.

Waiting in that thick silence, fury radiating from the crown of his purple hair and almost weeping smoke from his ears as he continued to bear his eyes into your own. All was halted at the extension of your arms stretched either side of your body and a single word spoken from your lips.

“Baby.”

His shoulders immediately dropped, head hung low as he dredged over to you like a man in mourning. Meeting your smaller frame with his thick thighs, he slunk to the ground on his knees and curled inwards of himself while burying his head against your stomach.

“Mommy.”

As your hand drew up to card through his purple locks, you reflected on how this relationship truly occurred between you and the larger man. Unsure of whether it truly began while you brought him an itinerary from your office regarding where his persons was to be required, or the way he sought out your touch while you served the Charlotte generals and children their evening meals, or some fantasy come to life when he whispered that name while expressing his gratitude for you aiding him in removing his armor and laying down his arms: that was your title to him.

No longer an au pair or an aid for Charlotte Linlin in caring for her many children in this situation, you were Charlotte Cracker’s mommy. Not mother, not mom, simply a larger man feeling comfortable enough in himself to need your nurture and care to shepherd him through his rage.

“What happened, baby?” you ask him softly, soothing his larger head as he nestled himself further into your embrace. “Want to tell mommy about it?” He shook his head, sniffling against your waist and whimpering into your touch. You clicked your tongue, backing away towards the corner of the room closest to the hexagonal bay window.

Several large pillows littered this space, often a corner of the room you made available for you to peer over the edge of the grounds while working away at scheduling education. As you slumped back onto the ground, Cracker draped himself over your body and buried his head in the chasms of your breasts.

“Alright, baby. Why don’t you just put your head in my lap, hm?” you cooed down at the ten foot giant. He nodded his head and leaned into your touch as you turned him to face upwards on your lap. As he turned, the large belt of biscuits rolled with several crumbs falling onto the plush pillows below him. This had you click your tongue in disappointment, which prompted Cracker’s eyes to follow your gaze.

“Sorry, mommy,” he whispered hurriedly, sheepishly removing his belt and brushing down the pillows to scatter the crumbs beside the pillows. You hummed at him, slowly sitting back with your legs flat in front of you. Patting your thighs once more, you couldn’t help as Cracker eagerly placed his head and the tops of his shoulders within your lap.

Your hands immediately went back to soothe over his purple hair, rolling it back to reveal his forehead. Gently soothing over his scar, you felt him wince at your touch. His oversensitivity upon receiving such a gentle expression never ceased to amaze you, no matter how often you and he would enjoy time together.

“Want me to stop, baby?” Your question caused his eyes to round innocently up at you while tilting his head back to meet your gaze further. His pouty protest had you purse your lips in empathetic sorrow.

Leaning down and pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt him whimper and shudder beneath your touch. Humming down at him, you remove your lips and un-arch yourself while gazing down at him.

“C-Can I-...? Can we-...?” Cracker stuttered, attempting to catch himself as he hoped you would fill in the rest of his statement. You smile down at him, nodding as you raised your hands and reached for your shirt.

As your hands began to unclasp each of the front buttons on your shirt, he unbuttoned the waistband of his pants and began shimmying them down to reveal his half-mast cock. As soon as you popped the remaining clasp, you reached into your shirt and cupped your breasts, rolling them over the front of the uniform to spill out in front of him.

With a small bounce to the mounds of flesh, you chuckled as Cracker’s cock immediately sprung completely to life. Shimmying up a little further, he looked up through his lengthy eyelashes and asked permission with his gaze to touch your breasts. With no more than a soft smile and a nod, he slowly reached with one hand towards your breast as the other reached down to stroke his cock.

Starting at the tip, he rolled the velvety skin back and forth while applying more pressure as he raised it back to his tip. His cock twitched and pulsed in his hand, the pink tip leaking with precum as he molded the flesh of your breasts beneath his palm.

“So pretty, baby,” you coo down at him, moving down to cradle his head on your lap and draw him closer to your chest. “Doing so good for me. Open your mouth?”

Cracker maintained eye contact and parted his lips, lulling out his tongue and moving his lips closer to your areola. Giving a tentative flick of his tongue over your pebbled bud, he moved to fully latch his lips against your breast while molding the other in his hand.

“Oh, good boy,” you praised him, holding his head firmer against your chest and pushing more of your breast into his mouth. “I didn't even have to ask, and you just knew what to do. So good, baby.”

He whimpered into your embrace, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows while bucking up into his hand. Moving from long and languid strokes to heavier pumps, he whined and groaned into your breasts while swirling his tongue over your nipple.

Your breath caught in your throat as he flattened his tongue and ground the porous surface against the center of your nipple. He released your nipple from his firm latch with a pop, spreading his saliva over your bud by flicking and kissing the pert bud.

“Oh, so good, baby,” you whine at him as you feel the pleasure electrify from your nipple straight to your abdomen. “Doing so good for Mommy. Keep stroking that cock for me?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Cracker whined, thumbing over the cock head and collecting his precum on the pad of his digit. You reached down, clasping his forearm and aiding him in setting the pace to pump his shaft.

“Little bit slower, baby. We don't want you to make a mess too quickly, do we?” Your warm voice poured from your lips like honey, Cracker whining into your chest before relatching against your nipple while rolling the other in your nipple in his thumb and forefingers.

His voice choked out a groan, feeling closer to the edge than he truly wanted to be in your arms presently. He always wanted to make you proud. He couldn't truly put a reason as to why.

Charlotte Cracker always felt in control. He used his ability to make his sweet biscuits fight for him, wore armor to protect his body from harm, and learned battle prowess from his older siblings. With you, the au pair for his younger siblings and the aid in daily routine for him and the others, he felt safe enough to relinquish that control over to you.

He felt safe with you.

He felt secure with you.

He felt loved with you.

Each time he spoke his woes onto you, your ear and smile would always be warm and welcoming for him. You were that nurture he never felt from his mother, his father, his step parents, and his advisors. You were that security blanket engulfing him in a secure embrace of ultimate care.

Your love is what had him fucking his fist to your memory. Your love was what had him muffling his moans with the back of his hand while he reached that pinnacle of abandon and threw himself off of it. Your love was what had him sheepishly approach you for the first time and had him seek out this arrangement, should you find yourself willing.

Your love is what had him beginning to hone in on that precipice of pleasure as you guided his fist up and down on his cock. The first bubbles of cum began falling from the slit at the tip of his cock. Everything was so warm, so caring, and so extremely filled with love, Cracker couldn't hold himself back from that edge any longer.

Moaning freely on your breast, he choked back a hefty mewl as his belly tensed in a clenched ball. His heavy balls sucked up into his abdomen as he began to feel the first waves of his bliss crash over him.

“M-Mommy-!” he shouted out as he fully succumbed to that edge.

“-I’m right here, baby,” you reassured him, aiding him in continuing the tempo he set as he pushed past that edge and toppled over. “You're safe, you're good, and you're doing so well, baby. Cum for me?”

“Mgnhmnm-! F-fuck-... Aaah-, cumming-!” Cracker whimpered out. Hot bursts of his release sprouted from his slit and coated his stomach with his bliss. His muscles tensed and his fist clenched around his cock, but his lips were only always soft and gentle against your breasts.

Hot coils of bliss shot over his dewy skin, staining his bare abs and the top of his shirt with his seed. His back arched as he rode through that high to the end, almost forcing himself through that painted overstimulation if not to do you proud. He moaned out each soft moan to coincide with his release, unclenching his eyes to seek out your own as he championed his way through it.

Stilling his hips and his motions, he flopped his body lazily within your cradle and panted up at you. You smiled down, leaning over and pressing your lips to his brow in a sweet gesture of acceptance and support.

“Baby,” you whisper down at him, prompting him to whimper in response, “Let's get you cleaned up, and I'll brush your hair for you while you tell me about your day.”

In his vulnerable state, Cracker felt like he could cry at that thought. Stiffing his upper lip, he forced back that sob that bubbled in his throat while nodding his head.

“That sounds good, right, baby?” you reaffirmed down at him, gently moving your hand from his forearm to cup his cheek. He furrowed his brows and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as his lip quivered.

“You…” he began, his words catching behind his lips as he struggled with the boiling emotions ever growing, “...You’d do that for me?”

“Baby, of course I will,” you hummed at him with all of the emotion you could muster for him, “Consider my schedule clear, and my entire attention yours. Whatever you need of me, from me, or with me,” you raise his head up to you and cradle his face within your palms.

“I'm yours,” you affirm him, pressing your head against his and closing your eyes, “You can use me for anything you need.”

“Even if I just want to sit with you?” Cracker asked, turning to lean on his side and searching your eyes with his own. “Even to just hear about your day and listen to your voice.”

“Of course, baby,” you hum towards Cracker and gently brush your nose against his. “Anything you need, I'm yours.”

After cleaning up his former release and redressing yourselves, Cracker continued to sit and half doze off the longer you spoke. He was so comfortable with you, he could barely tolerate the prospect of fleeing from your side and returning to his duties.

For now, he could hear the hum in your tone, the warmth in your fable, and your heart carved in the corner of the universe meant just for him.

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🎶Happy Birthday to Me 🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[edenspoem]

♯┆spacesoldier/spacescientist!ellie: who won't shut up about the hookup between you and her from the night before, and longs to do it again, fully. .ᐟ ★

literally don't question the randomness of this blurb. i run on revelations and sudden visions, and this one was just too hot to let rot. i had to pause a whole request for this thing. and it's a bit rushed, i'll like expand on it some other time i just wanted to return to this trope. anyways, I digress— space scientist ellie, nine month voyage through the cosmos, hookups.. tipsy hookups.

it'd be morningtime in the wake of certain events preceding that memories would slowly begin to prick through the surface— owing to ellie's imperfect subtlety. hills and hills of planetary research, prototype weaponry, instructions on how to properly utilize said prototypes, and coffee-stained reports, dawdled through like the process couldn't get any more boring than it presently is; stress, procrastination, a murk in the thick of your thoughts— literal brainrot. then, the main office zone gate slides open, that little airy whir pulls through your ears, and the person that walks through foments sudden recollection to the promotion party last night. ellie. a new recruit under your stations wing— and the immodest girl who was under your hood many hours ago.

ellie is a damnable pesterer of love; portending that if you've ever been intimate with her, she'll be stuck to you like an idiot's tongue adheres to icicles in wintertime. and tipsy her definitely was after you two had sex: pleading for you to stay a minute longer to cuddle, pressing every work-related praise hot into your nape, mentioning how good you taste out of the blue, so on and so forth. yet now that it is a bright and advantageous morning, and considering that she woke up to the scent of you woven through each fiber of her clothes— she remembers, and she reminds.

ellie's got her legs crossed, arms crossed, leaned against your desk's edge, small butt of hers rudely stamping one of your precious folders; the usual stance she does when you're plying your trade, and she prying for attention. "seriously. thursday, you and me, conference room number twenty-seven, i'll bring wine and fetch dinner from the canteen— please?" an earnest ask, you can sense it in her tone; evenly pitched and soft, softer when she pleads, as always, albeit that the spaceship you dwell in has no actual restaurant so dating environments are centered around some good old D.I.Y and empty meeting rooms. her foot winds out slightly to tap the spokes of your office chair, nudging the focus you so dearly casted to the papers below you, to her instead. which regrettably works; tossing an eye roll as you spin, "dates and recreational dinners don't fit into anyone's schedule here, you know that." it aches to claim that, and aches harder to see her take that hit of an that answer. watching her head drop and her mouth tug into a contemplative shape that wanted to battle it out with excuses, loopholes, promises— but it forms into a grin rather, and decides to be impish. "had time for last night though, didn't we? a great time, actually, n' i wanna see where that.." her voice sinks into the pit of her throat— deep and reserved — and her thumbs start to do that cute fiddly thing at her waist, rolling over each other while the rest of her fingers intwine and overlap, "—takes us?" modifying her words into a delicate, unsure question. a toothy, one-sided smile and sad puppy brows, ugh you could just pinch her cheeks. but of course, she spices up the deal, "hopefully.. back into my room, if my flirting skills aren't total shit." annoyingly rambling as a way to showcase how gravely you've impacted her mind the last twelve or so hours. so grave, you're the only thing her motivation could cling upon to urge her limbs and weasel her sluggish weight out of bed earlier. "please?"

that please chisels a smile into your lips, unfortunately-fortunate, "god, you're so bad, williams." poking fun at her and coasting the wheeled chair away with the back of your knees straightening, rising from your seat with documents in-hand, and agreeance in-mind; written ripe on your lifted cheeks.

"was i?" said indirectly, a cocky implication twisting her cheeks to the same level as yours. it took you— let's say, two, three, awkward seconds of squinting before you understood her crafty-ass joke that took your words a completely different, and lewd direction. stupidly faced too: cocking her brow with the scar slicing through, and cocking one side of her head upwards too, overall just cocky. now you could just squeeze her annoying face until it exploded. figuratively.

"shut up." "okay."

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