#that is going to be my tag because fuck you

[galaxitic]

@bestbehaviorofficial

he's middle aged he's divorced he's committed vehicular manslaughter he has a weird homoerotic relationship with his college best friend he can't be left alone next to large bodies of water he's blown into a million pieces he's all apart. i didn't say his name but he popped into your head didn't he

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentence (five)

lando norris - "you're so very tempting..."

tags: smut/pwp, friends-with-benefits (with feelings), simp!lando, sanrio plushies, possessive behavior, jealousy & manipulation, safe sex

the sinful sentences catalogue

this was not according to plan. this was supposed to be fun. you should be honoured really, lando never liked tapping the same girl twice. let alone three, four, five, seven times. he had lost count the amount of times he had fucked you into the mattress of his bed. watched you reach climax in the sea of soft pillows, your heavy pants into the light grey pillowcases as your back arched with a primal want.

but what started out as a means to an end. had become something a little more intense. it was like lighting matches in a gas station, the inferno was bound to happen. and it all started over a fucking stuffed animal.

"liam got you this?" he asked as he plucked it off of your bed, "are you fucking him?" he tried to keep the jealousy at bay.

"no!" you said as you crossed your arms and looked at him, "you know people give gifts to each other and not just when they're apologizing for something." you had a vast collection of luxury items from lando because he fucked up. you didn't know why he was getting jealous of liam.

lando looked at the stuffed animal, it was of hello kitty or one of those little sanrio things. the marketable plushie that seemed to invade every female's bedroom like mold. lando hated the thing. he looked at it and said, "you're so very tempting... tempting to throw in the trash." and the toy was taken from his hand and you wrapped your arms around it quickly. the face of the toy was right in the valley of your breasts that were covered by your bra.

"excuse me! don't talk that way to my melody!" that was the name of it, "be nice to her!"

lando made a face, "i would be nice to her, if she wasn't given to you by that fucker." he got into bed with you. he got his hands on either side of you and leaned you further back into the bed, "i don't like him touching what is min."

you frowned, "we're just friends, lando. you didn't want commitment, remember?" lando's biggest failure. it wasn't on the track, but rather not pinning you down. he said he was casual and he had regretted it every day since.

"well, unless you wanna be used by drivers until your worn out like a tire, i suggest you limit your driver fucking to one." to him. and you shoved him before you laid back in bed. the toy discarded to the other side of the bed.

"i didn't think you were capable of being so fucking possessive." you said before you pulled him by the front of his t-shirt. you sealed your lips against his and he started to get his joggers off. his stupid fucking words excited you sexually. and while it was all casual, it was nice to see him get so wound up over you.

you knew he was a sucker for you, and you flirted with that idea. liam didn't get you the stuffed animal, you bought it yourself at the drug store and lied to lando about it. to watch the british driver bite his words because some rookie is trying to get in his territory. it was cute in its patheticness. his clothes came off along with your undergarments.

you watched lando angrily grab one of the condoms out of the box on the nightstand and get it on before his situations himself between your legs. his handsome eyes bore into your heated flesh like he was trying to make holes in your skin. only he got to see you like this, under him and sexually needy.

when he sank into you, he cursed under his breath. you fit like a vice and even with the condom on, he could still feel the heat of your pussy. this was why he didn't want liam lawson to be sniffing around what it is. yeah, it was casual, but that didn't mean lando had to share. call him a selfish prick for that, he didn't care. you were his, and no rookie was going to take that from him.

especially when he leaned forward and started to move against you. he maintained eye contact as he thrusted against you. he held onto the covers under you as used the surface as leverage to work his cock inside of you. the bed creaked under the movements and the slick sounds of fucking filled the air paired with your heated noises.

"shit, that's it. that feels good." lando licked his lips and made eye contact with the stuffed toy near the wall. its plastic eyes watched lando ruin your cunt. stuff it full of him. he knew it was stupid, but he grinned wickedly at the toy as he continued to move against you.

he wished he could take photos of what he was doing to you right at that moment. show liam exactly how to pleasure a woman of your caliber. lando was certain that liam wouldn't even make you cum, that you'd have to fake an orgasm. but you've never faked with lando, he knew it. because he knew your body like he knew his. how to hit at just the right spots to make you see stars.

this casual affair between you two was heated to its roots. lando wanted you more than just sexually. but no amount of luxury he could give you was enough. you weren't easily swayed by material goods. as you once told him, "i'm not a crow, no need to distract me with shiny objects." but lando knew he was going mad every time he saw you with someone else.

you sated every need in his body, why couldn't you simply be his? why did you have to keep so close to the terms of being casual. lando needed you and he didn't need someone else trying to worm their way into your life. he couldn't allow it, he wouldn't allow it.

"look at you, under me. don't need plushies when you got me. you hated gifts, what made lawson so special."

you pushed your luck as you replied, "because he's actually a gentleman. not a panting dog looking to get his dick sucked every hour of every day. he at least knows how to treat a woman." it was all utter bullshit, but you felt lando's pace stagger for a moment from your words.

"bigger than me, princess?" he panted heavily, "does it stretch you out the way i do? leave you a mess? i know you talk big game about wanting a gentleman. so i need to know, is he bigger?"

you reached out and held onto his shoulders tightly, "no." then pulled him in for another kiss. you moaned into the kiss and tightened your thighs around his waist as he fucked you with heavy strokes. the pleasure made your head throb as the he clutched onto the covers tighter.

the pleasure was intense, the movements were rough. the sexual electricity was felt between you two as the kisses got more heated. you liked when lando became a man possessed when it came to his envy. he was a slave to his jealousy when it really gripped him. his breathing were heavy pants as he continued to move against you. the pleasure was a monster inside of him as his movements continued.

when he broke the kiss, he looked down at you with a glint in his eye, "he could never fuck you like this. he could never take you the way i do. he's a pussy." he pressed into you further, his pace was brutal and it made you only hotter.

your orgasm felt close the more he fucked you. the more his heavy thrusts made your mind go blank for a split second. you held onto his shoulders tightly and let him use your pussy to his liking. taking every ounce of pleasure that he could give you. if he was jealous then you were greedy for his cock.

he was right, no one else could ever have you the way he did. no other man could bring you to climax the way he did. he had re-wired your brain sexually that other hook-ups seemed so bland. lando knew exactly how to fuck you. so it was no surprise that after another round of heated kisses, you held onto him tightly and your toes curled.

you came around his cock and he soon came in the condom. you tensed up and lurched forward from the sensation and he kept you pinned down as you both finished. then slowly he came to a stop and grabbed you by the face to kiss you once more.

lando groaned against the kiss and he rubbed his softening cock inside of you to get that extra bit of pleasure before he felt content with what he had done. when he pulled out. he got up to toss the condom and when he got into bed. he grabbed the plush and looked it in its plastic eyes.

before he could make more threats to it. you plucked it from his hands, "either your nice to it or you can make yourself comfortable on my couch tonight."

he made a face and mentally promised himself. is liam lawson thought your affection was for sale, then lando would have to double the offer and make sure that you didn't end up in that rookie's arms. <3

[sugarwarachan]

I NEED THE TROPE FOR VALENTINE'S OF EX TO LOVERS W BAKUGO

the one that goes like “ i wanted to treat you how i should’ve before.” pleaspleaseplease

when i think about this man groveling a part of my brain starts purring on low. based on this prompt list! "i wanted to treat you how i should’ve before."

ex-husband!bakugou who knows how badly he fucked up. he's obsessive by nature and the fact that he let down the person he loves most in this world doesn't sit right with him

ex-husband!bakugou who hates his empty apartment but slowly starts filling it with furniture and things that remind him of you. daydreams about the day he can bring you back here

ex-husband!bakugou who starts calling you to check in, savoring your voice even if it means you might yell at him

ex-husband!bakugou who simply starts listening more. he becomes thoroughly invested in everything you tell him, no matter how small, "your boss still being a dick, baby? pretty sure that fuckin' extra doesn't hold a candle to your talent, ya know that?"

ex-husband!bakugou who falls in love with you all over again through cautious text messages and late-night phone calls. he stays up late just to stream reality tv with you in his ear making commentary, his heart aching in his chest because this is all he really wants

ex-husband!bakugou who sees the upcoming Valentine's Day as a chance to win you back

ex-husband!bakugou who invites you over for dinner and sets up his apartment to look as romantic as possible: candles flickering, wine poured, your favorite meal on the table

ex-husband!bakugou who nearly falls over when you show up wearing his favorite dress. he fidgets throughout dinner, trying not to stare at you but finding it impossible

ex-husband!bakugou who dribbles wine down his chin when you moan around a bite of chocolate cake. when you laugh in response something loosens inside him and he allows himself to relax. he can do this; he can win you back

ex-husband!bakugou who lets you take the lead, blood rushing in his ears when you smooth your hands up his chest and kiss him. he can't help but attack you, one large hand palming your ass, the other pulling you as close as he can get you

ex-husband!bakugou who fucks you slow. he hears you begging him to go harder and leans down to kiss your forehead, smirk on his lips, "sorry princess—gotta make up for lost time and get you stupid on my dick" (you cum like six times that night)

ex-husband!bakugou who wakes you up with coffee the next morning, blond hair hanging messily in his face. you cock your head in question and he just shrugs, a blush stealing across his cheeks. "just wanted to start treatin' ya like I should have when we were married"

happy early valentine's day, loves!! more content to come. ˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are so appreciated <3

[totalswag]

raw next question? pt 2 ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note the amount of support i got on my last fic is unbelievable, thank you so much. i tried my best for part two so i hope you guys like it. so, here you go 👀. raw next question

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after leaving a comment under rafe's post, he responds back showing interest and reaches out.

warning(s) flirting, kissing at the end, cuteness, and meeting rafe for the first time.

rafecameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk.

The only thing running through your mind is⎯what the actual fuck. To be fair, you were expecting a response or comment, not even a dm. You don't know what to say.

"Okay, we need to think of something to say because," you hesitate for a few minute, "yeah, I don't have anything to say" you trail off before stretching the back of your head.

Zoie lets out a breath: "I say we wait to respond then once we come up with a response, send it to him."

Five minutes later, you open your phone, click on the text, and begin typing a reply. "This is what I'm going to respond with," you say, pointing to your phone to the girls. 

yourusername: hey haha, thought I’d hop on the trend. didn’t expect you to reply tho.

Two minutes later, he responds.

rafecameron: oh, so I’m just part of a trend? damn, i thought i was special... 😔

yourusername: haha so funny, rafe

yourusername: i admit though you're attractive

rafecameron: ahh the truth comes out huh

rafecameron: since we're speaking the truth, you're gorgeous

Rafe and you started conversation among other topics. One of the main things you two found out is that you live an hour away from each other. By the end of the week, you exchanged phone numbers.

After Rafe responded to your comment, you two started leaving sly/flirty comments on each other's posts that spiked conversations between your supporters.

They're messing with us right?

They keep playing eye tag... HOLLA AT YO BOY!!

"Would you like to meet up sometime?" Rafe asked casually over FaceTime while searching the kitchen cupboard for something, his phone resting against a glass cup. 

It's been a month since Rafe and you have been texting and calling. Constantly texting⎯quick responses. It became a routine for the both of you. Learned a lot about each other in a span of a month.

Your back was against the headboard as you sat on your bed. He wants to meet you in person, and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "Yeah, I would like that," was all you could offer.

Peeping over his shoulder, Rafe chuckles quietly and smiles. "I'm thinking this weekend if you aren't busy?" "I would drive to you," he says, suggesting.

You raise your upper body off the headboard and reply, "I'll send you my address the day before, I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Perfect!" He smiles.

Today was the day⎯Rafe and you are meeting for the first time. Nervous and excited about all this. You don't want to make a fool of yourself. Rafe was forty minutes away, in the meantime, you were on the phone with Zoie and Evenly.

Rafe offered to drive to visit you, and you couldn't help but be anxious. He was an hour away, yet his attempt to see you meant more than you could express.

"Bitches I'm shitting bricks" you confess feeling anxious, running your hands down your thighs, walking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, it's normal to feel this way especially since you're meeting him for the first time. Take a few deep breaths and if you need anything from us, we're one call, and few doors down" Evelyn reassures you in a soothing tone.

"Agreed, you got this, it's normal to feel this way," Zoie expresses.

"Thank you, you two are such great friends, I love you so much" you say with honesty, your phone buzzes, you put your phone back.

rafe: five minutes away

you: perfect, see you soon!!

You gasps, quickly putting your phone back to your ear, "he's five minutes away um, I'll text you guys throughout the day."

Once Rafe got to the apartment complex, you walked down the stairs to where he parked⎯he was getting his bags from his trunk. You were amazed how tall he was too.

Before you can say anything, he turns around and says, "Hey, Y/N," with a smile that conveys how happy he is to see you.

Seeing him in person made you realize he's even more handsome. Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off you, he couldn't help but think how he's standing infront of someone as beautiful as you.

"Hey, Rafe, It's good to see you" you say, taking a big breath and gazing up at his towering body. You grin and lean into the hug. The height difference between you two is insane. He

"It's great to finally meet you; you're even more beautiful in person," he says to you, smiling. You chuckle softly at his compliment, "thank you handsome" and smile.

After arriving at your place, you show Rafe where everything is and where he will be staying—either your bed or the guest bedroom, which has been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. 

Rafe was happy to see your apartment and commented on how well it matches your vibe. He took his time looking around the apartment. Since you were already ready for the day, you spent ten more minutes in the apartment before heading out.

You have no idea what the plan was today. Rafe intended for a lasting and enjoyable day. You persisted on showing him around, but he said he wanted to be the one to take you places, even if he didn't know where. 

"This is has been such a great day, thank you Rafe" you tell him with full honesty as you two get settled to play mini golf.

He looks up from the floor and responds with a kind, sincere smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying it." "I remember you mentioning you loved mini golf too."

He is able to recall the small details.

Your heart sank to your feet since no male has ever recalled the small information you shared with them. As you playfully nudge him, you exclaim, "I can't believe you remember that."

He chuckles, "I'm just good at remember."

Mini golf was a lot of fun, with plenty of laughs and competition between you two. In the beginning, he noticed your concentration and took out his phone to record you until you spotted him flipping him off.

Towards the end of the night, Rafe and you drove to an ice cream shop and ate it outside. You had little conversations and learnt more about each other today.

Before putting a scoop of his ice cream in his mouth, he says, "We should make a tiktok."

After contentedly leaning back in your chair, you decided to do it. In addition, many who support you have been wondering if you two will ever cross paths. They're going to be amazed.

she knows remix slowed.

Rafe began lip-syncing, his expression playful and undoubtedly attractive. When it got to looking like the Fourth of July, you're officially coming with me, he switched the phone to you. You were already staring at him, eyes full of admiration, unable to conceal the warm smile on your lips.

The camera returned to him, and he tried not to chuckle, tilting his phone downward as he giggled. The final second of the video showed your arms wrapped around his neck.

rafe cameron: 👀

tagged yourusername

Fans were blowing up the comment section.

⇾ fan23: DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM!!

⇾ fan12: you know you have thirty minutes

⇾ fan1: i decided if i want y/n or rafe 😔

⇾ fan3: im sat for this

By the time you returned to your flat, the tension had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored. Rafe took a step closer as you paused nervously by your door. His hand softly stroked your cheek, his gaze seeking yours, before he asked, "Is this okay?"

You barely had time to nod before his lips touched yours, gentle and languid, like if he was savoring the moment. The kiss was pleasant, but it also hinted at something deeper.

When you eventually pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, chuckling. "Best decision I ever made was replying to that comment."

"Best decisions I ever made was commenting" you softly say, smiling.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

@chenslucy @rosezza @mymultiveres @rafeyslamb @runningfrom2am @whorelaud @drewsephrry @drewizz @diqldrunks @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @darkacademictrash @claudiamoscatoo @starkeysturniolo @ratgirlcunt @drewstxrky @eddxemxnson @raewontgoaway @definitelynotdomanique @isabellaxlilah @inlovewrafe @kravitzwhore @rafespreciosa @yanna2coolz @minyoon23 @stevesxwhore @bxmaaa @skywalker0809 @pwertiies @6r4cie @ifwfratboychris @sjmalfoy19 @dolletebun @drewrry @babypoguelife @fdl305 @outerbanksloverp4l @thesunflowersociety @earth2fae @sfotiegiuls @drewwhor @my-name-is-baby @alexxavicry @sparklyananas @yesshewrites1 @stxrz

[nights-at-crystarium]

*inhales* I HATE BSKY FOR THAT

There's indeed a culture of hate/alienation towards artists that don't add alt text. The blocklist the op talks about sounds new but not surprising to me, people have been silently ignoring/refusing to share posts without alt text, and sometimes trying to be "helpful" by getting in your face and telling you that your art doesn't get numbers because of that.

Now. I finish a drawing. I resize it and put my little watermark on it, the only layer of protection I can do. I don't have the spoons for glazing it, I've given up on that for the same reason as alt text: too much extra busy work. If posting art 10 years ago felt like walking, today there are heavy weights chained to my legs.

Posting art nowadays isn't just uploading an image, adding tags, hitting the post button. NO, you go to downdetector and check if the platform isn't on fire. And, oh, did I mention that you've gotta crosspost to a dozen platforms? There are often outages which you'll feel acutely if you post regularly. No outages, all seems fine? Post and hope that the hidden ai content filters don't see the pornography in your art, no matter how sfw it actually looks to a human. Sometimes sfw posts indeed get erroneously labeled on bsky, which you can appeal, on tumblr your post's completely hidden from tags and dashboard in that case, you can only delete it and try reposting with minor edits. Done, passed that? Now you sit and hope that people actually like your shit. And then, on bsky, some twat walks up and "um ackshually where's your alt text? I won't share that."

Do you see how the only thing this notion can inspire is outrage? You have no bloody clue how mentally taxing it is to be an artist nowadays. Go fuck yourself if you refuse to share posts with no alt text.

You're harrassing a person and trying to police them into something that's still new and underexplored in the collective consciousness of an internet user. Some of us have been there for decades, some of us have trouble adapting to change, some of us don't have the spoons for it, you know what's that called? A person's autistic and you're attacking them.

I'm autistic and I can't force myself to do things that I don't want. No punishment in the world will encourage me to start adding alt text. By accusing me of being an exclusionary asshole YOU are being that to me, an autistic trans person fighting for their life every day as the internet, the only place where I can survive in, gets worse and worse at a terrifying speed.

observations

[angelltheninth]

How We've Both Changed

Pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, friends to enemies to lovers, clit stimulation, name-calling, degradation, rough sex, creampie, teasing, dub-con, body betrayal, forced orgasm, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation

Word count: 0.7k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Caleb has an iron grip on my brain. I won't hear anything about it because it's not gonna get any better.

"Look at you. When did you get like this? So submissive and docile? Is it those... other men you've been hanging around with? Well it doesn't matter now, I'm gonna show you what a real man is like." Caleb growled next to your ear as he fucked you into your bed with the full intention of breaking you or it.

At first you were happy to see him. Even if he seemed a little bit different. But this was never the way you imagined he'd make love to you. Could this even be called making love? Because his love doesn't feel like the love you used to get from him.

Every sound was rough, every look judgmental, every thrust painful, every touch scolding.

He smirked as you let out a whimper, weather it was from pain or pleasure he didn't seem to care all that much. His fingers, cold against you, kept pressing and torturing your clit to the point it became painful. "This isn't about you feeling good, although I can tell that you are by the way your cunt is squeezing around me. But don't mistake that for my kindness, love." Caleb leaned in close. "I waited for you. Every day that was hell I kept going because of you. But you... you forgot about me the moment other men showed up."

"I never forgot. Caleb, I... always thought about you." You wanted to reach out and hold him but you only managed to struggle against the unyielding grip he had around your wrists.

Caleb smirked above you, his cock ramming itself into your pussy, creating lewd, wet, sloppy sounds. "Really? When you fucked yourself with those toys you thought of me? Or when you were on all fours, desperately trying to make yourself come? What about when you were with those other guys, did you want it to be me fucking you instead?"

His words hurt as much as the way he was fucking you did. "I never... I haven't been with anyone... in a really long time."

"Huh. Explains why this pussy is so easy. It needed a good cock. You'll never need or want for anything ever again, I'll give it all to you!" The necklace hung just above your face, clicking and shining, almost like Caleb was taunting you with it. His rigid cock kept hitting your sweetspot every time his hips smacked heavily against yours, causing your back to arch and your clit to push against his fingers. "So messy. God, you've become such a desperate whore in the time I've been gone. Your pussy is so good at taking cock isn't it. Mine. The only cock it'll be taking will be my cock!"

Caleb pushed his fingers into your already abused pussy and curled them upwards just as his cock sank in and stilled. "Ca-Caleb, Caleb, that's too much!"

"No it's not. No it's fucking not, I know you can take it. You can be good. If you were good for those other guys, then won't you be good for me too?" His voice dropped to an almost cooing tone. "Don't you want to be good for me?" He asked, his fingers curling again and again, each movement sending lighting across your body until your mind went blank.

"I can... I can't-!" You cried out, tears spilling down your face.

"You can. My love, I know you can. You will." His tone turned commanding towards the end, "You will come for me." With one last cruel flick of your clit you came with a desperate whine, your voice breaking as you arched off the bed. Just then he chose to let go of your hands, allowed you to embrace him. "Yes, hold onto me. I've got you, I've got you now." He chuckled against your ear, his fingers easing out of you and holding you against him with both arms as his cum filled your desperate, fucked pussyhole.

Desperate sounds kept falling from your lips as you shook against him, your clit pressing against his abs, your legs locked around his hips and pussy stretched to its limits. "Ca-ah-leb..."

"Easy, easy, I'm here, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere, I'm never leaving you again." His words were flavored with an equal amount of a sweet promise and a dangerous threat. "We're together again. Nothing will get in the way of our love. As long as we love each other, that's all that matters." The more he cooed those words in your ear the more you started to believe he was right.

[colorlessjay]

I imagine that when s16 Dean pops back, s16 Cas will mention some super boring thing he and s6 Dean did together and be jealous. Hit tweet

Jealous Dean is a flavor of Dean I can never get enough of. Is it cliche? Yes. Can it be toxic? absolutely. Do I still seek it out in tags because it scratches the itch in my brain that goes 'hehehe'? almost daily

So here's my brain worms:

Dean's not an insecure man

okay because he is, but he's been working on it and Cas has definitely helped with his self-esteem over the years

And-

fuck it he's jealous. He's jealous and cranky about it and it's all his own fault

"Dean"

"What?" Dean snaps, jaw clenched as he sulks on his nice leather recliner. Yes, he's sulking. Shut up

"You're upset"

"Thanks, Captain Obvious"

"And Bitchy"

"Next you're gonna tell me I have a dick and balls"

Cas does a full-body eye-roll at Dean. Damn it it's cute but Dean's pissy and he's gonna stay pissy for as long as he can help it

"Years of marriage and being by your side, and your behavior still somehow alludes me." Cas places his book down on the coffee table before grunting. "All this crankiness over me baking your younger self a pie"

Dean can feel his heckles raise just at the thought. Because knowing Cas, it was that special honey apple pie he only bakes on Dean's birthday. That the little fucker (the asshole that is his younger self) didn't shower his husband in love and praise the second he got served a slice (not that Dean wanted his younger self to, only he got to do that). A slice made by the hands of a literal Fallen Angel of the Lord, blessed by God himself (Jack usually taste tested)

Dean sinks further into his recliner like the leather is eating him, all while Cas stands by his side, hands on his hips in a now familiar pose of annoyance, a single brow raised as he expects a reply

Jokes on Cas. That only turns Dean on

not the time

"Yeah well, the ungrateful shit didn't deserve it"

"The 'ungrateful shit' you speak of mowed our lawn, walked our dog and made me breakfast. All while trying to find a way back to his own timeline"

"Yeah well, I could've done all of that"

Cas gives him the 'Are you serious?' "You did, both 15 years ago and last week, at the same time. May I remade you, you are being jealous of yourself?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"It's ridiculous"

"It's not"

"it is" Cas insists, sounding exasperated, rolling his eyes again. Dean wants to kiss away the scrunch between his brows... Focus up, Winchester! "You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of"

"Oh so I got nothing to be jealous of when my hot angel husband was left alone with a sexually confused pent-up Hunter?" Dean scoffs and turns his head away "'slike the start of a shitty porno... Only I'm not playing the Hunter"

Dean grunts as a familiar weight lands on his lap, making him sink further into the recliner. Big hands gently grab his jaw and turn his head, locking eyes with those beautiful blue eyes that always hum with angelic grace

"Dean. You have nothing to be jealous of" Cas says slow and firm, like he's punctuating every word. His eyes dance with amusement as he stares Dean down "You wanna know why?"

Dean gulps, feeling his heart flutter already as he's hands find familiar purchase on Cas' hips "yeah..."

"Because" Cas leans close, breathing the words over Dean's lips "-

-------

-------

-------

So I realized there wasn't a part of this I could cut off so imma stop myself here and go to sleep

anyways, good night :D

[theemporium]

[smau] where formula one meets hockey, but not in the way fans really expected.

aka a random smau fic to introduce you to the wee world me and @hischierhoney spiral over every race weekend. ignore the dates and times on the tweets, i am too lazy to change them :)

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liked by charles_leclerc, jackhughes and others

yourusername winter break was fun😈ready for the season ahead!

tagged: scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc

view all 13,860 comments

scuderiaferrari ready to see you on track, red!

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user QUEEEEEEN

user omg is this a soft launch???

user fuck a soft launch, she has just confirmed the whole relationship!!

user pls pls pls win austin, i am going to that race!!

user HELLO CHARLES-RED SHIPPERS STAND UP!! HARD LAUNCH POST!!

user don't be weird?? they are just teammates

user HELLO WHY IS JACK LIKING HER POSTS???

user who is the guy?? because he definitely looks like charles

user PLS charles is not that buff

oscarpiastri so you only say no to hiking when i suggest it? rude

yourusername that's because i don't like you :) hope that helps!

user wait who the fuck is jack hughes and why are people on twitter freaking out over it

user omg she went to his game over the winter break, maybe he is the secret boyfriend

swissfonduelover i heard he is not her type

user wtf?? as if you know lol

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liked by charles_leclerc, jackhughes and others

yourusername sunshine, blue skies and a pretty boy to celebrate leading the championship going into the summer break😈

view all 12, 430 comments

nicohischier my red❤️

yourusername my cap❤️

user HOLY SHIT

user now wait a damn minute-

charles_leclerc oh finally!! i couldn't keep the secret anymore

yourusername you literally told half the grid before we had even gone on our second date?

charles_leclerc what's your point?

user wait they are actually kinda cute

user NOOOO MY CHARLES-RED HEART IS CRUSHED!!!

swissfonduelover good.

user she is leading the championship AND she has a pretty boyfriend? unfair

jackhughes why was i not invited??

yourusername last time i checked, you weren't a pretty boy

jackhughes rude :(

user i am fucking REELING over this and i have no one to tell

user both in red teams, both wear thirteen, both have the pressure of the world on their shoulder THE INVISIBLE STRING IS INVISIBLE STRINGING

scuderiaferrari our favourite power couple!

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[somanyquestions-featuringanxiety]

Thx for the tag!! Here we go…

1. The Umbrella Academy, Angel The Series and Torchwood

2. They’re long and pale pink and have sparkly hedgehogs on them!

3. I LOVE smoothies, especially anything with berries!

4. Usually a pretty dress, sometimes a nice skirt and top

5. Eggs are amazing in all forms, but my fav is soft boiled with soldiers!

6. A bookmark?? Like a normal person???

7. My wardrobe is very colourful, I’m not really sure!

8. I don’t really collect anything, though I like to own copies of my favourite books

9. I have a comforting playlist which is my go to, and I find the smell of lavender calming too :)

10. Like the ones that ask you what you most relate to or what you feel best represents you

11. No, but I think glasses are super pretty!

12. I love her kindness and genuine love and concern for me and all her other friends, it’s really beautiful

13. Pen all the way, and it has to be blue or black!

14. Definitely my mum’s house and specifically my bedroom, but also probably my school

15. I have ZERO house plants because I have ZERO gardening skills, but I have a few fake plants (I KNOW ITS CHEATING BUT I CANNOT KEEP ANY PLANTS ALIVE OK 😭)

16. My fav hoodie is pink and fluffy and has rabbits on the back!!! I’ve had it for around four years I think, and one time I wore it camping and a small chunk of burning wood flew from the campfire and landed on my sleeve, so now it’s got a hole, but I still love it :D

17. A bunch of ink refills for my fav pens

18. Honestly anything in the renaissance era, specifically anything Leonardo da Vinci related, I’m super nerdy about him lol

19. That time two years ago when me and a friend dressed up as Aziraphale and Crowley (I got to be Aziraphale!!!)

20. Tbh I’m really good at maths, but idk which kind (she says while on the verge of tears due to a maths problem)

21. I’m not much of an artist but like I already said ik a huge nerd about Leonardo da Vinci so I guess his works interest me? I do like the renaissance style

22. Iced!

23. Whatever I feel like that day! It varies all the time, but my go to is anything by The Crane Wives (my fav band)

24. Don’t have my licence yet

25. No, and I don’t think I’ll ever get any (maybe my ears pierced if I ever get over my INTENSE fear of needles)

26. I am not particularly good at cooking or baking, but I do like to bake the occasional cake or some biscuits!

27. My home keys are on a keychain with a clear shell thing full of water and blue glitter, it’s really pretty!

28. My swimming level is like… not drowning. But I’m weak as fuck, have no coordination, terrible technique and I’m slow as hell

29. I had a TON of Lego when I was younger, and most of it is disassembled in boxes now except my fav sets which were all the Harry Potter ones, especially the burrow!

30. Yes, one side is uniform, T-shirts, long pants and skirts, the other is everything else, and within both sides everything is sorted by colour

31. I’ve genuinely got no idea, I hardly ever watch music videos

32. I’d probably do some pale pink streaks!

33. Headphones all the way!!!

34. Yes

35. A rabbit a very crafty friend of mine crocheted for me , except one of its arms is almost completely falling off now since it’s over a year old and I cannot sew for the life of me

36. I like to think l’m pretty good at air hockey, though I don’t know how accurate that is

37. I can stand it, but I prefer to have it just be me while either watching tv or listening to music while doing it

38. My fav show ever is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and though some of my friends have watched a bit none of them really like it and it makes me so sad :(

39. Watching doctor who and eating dinner

40. Idk, probs willow trees (because I ADORE willow from BTVS but also because they’re pretty)

41. Coconut vanilla!

42. I have a few, like cookie run kingdom and geometry dash, but I haven’t played them in ages

43. Definitely on, but I’ve been curious about what it’s like with the lights off

44. Stick it in my purse and hope I remember it’s there when I need it (I don’t)

45. Yeah it’s pretty good! Definitely fluctuates a lot though depending on the speed and size I’m writing and how much effort I can be bothered to put into it

46. I don’t know if this is the latest but my fav band was introduced to me via a friend, and it was one of the best things to ever happen to me

47. Short, easy, pretty walks? Yes. Hilly hike things where’s its stupidly hot, ugly and the middle of nowhere? Absolutely not

48. Yes, a pretty pink bowl with cool patterns on it

49. Sit in bed and read!! Bonus points if it’s cold enough for an open fire

50. Under one soft blanket, in soft loose long sleeved pyjamas, a bit of background noise coming from outside my room but nothing loud, cool temperature, knowing I have no alarm tmrw

Whew, did them all!

No pressure tags (I know this was long but it’s super fun!)

@niamhings @amy-harper @hawthorne-swift-enthusiasttt @yourlocalchronicdaydreamer @yourlocalwhovian @n3rdchi1d + anyone who wants to!

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[bettystonewell]

I GOT YOU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean might not have the best bedside manners and you might not be the best patient, but when you wake up feeling unwell and feverous, he tries to help you out in his own way.

Word Count: 1.1k words

Tags: fluff, sick-fic, language, Dean takes care of you

A/N: I wrote this one a little over a year ago when I was feeling under the weather and sorry for myself. Nothing like a Dean body pillow (if only I could get my hands on one), even when you’re not sick.—————————————————————Masterlist

You woke up that morning like any other. The sound of your alarm calling to you from what felt like a distant room. Only your phone was a mere foot away from you, sitting on the bedside table charging and waiting for you to turn it off.

Dammit. Sam would be waiting for you in the war room, ready to start your early morning run.

You moved to push yourself up and off your mattress, but your body felt heavier than normal, fingers and toes, oddly sweaty. In fact, your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and yet you felt cold.

No. Urgh. No. You couldn’t be getting sick, could you? You’d barely left the bunker in the last few days to run into anyone that could pass any germs onto you. But the further you moved across the floor of your room to your wardrobe to choose your clothes for the day, the heavier your body felt. The foggier your mind became. The snottier your… Urgh…

Fuck this! Fuck Sam and his morning run. You were going back to bed. Hopefully to sleep it off and wake up feeling refreshed and not sick.

You. Were. Not. Sick.

And you kept telling yourself that, splaying yourself out on top of your bed like a starfish, feet dangling haphazardly over the edge.

Lucky there were no such things as monsters under the bed. Or was there? Sam or Dean had never told you if such things existed and you’d certainly never come across any mention of one in the books in the library. Urgh. You were delirious and needed rest.

Rest. Rest was… Good…

A loud thump startled you from your dream. It had been a good dream, too. One where Dean had been…

“Sweetheart?” the object of your desires called out to you from behind the door to your room. “You in there?” he yelled loudly again. Making your eardrums ring with the obnoxious way he insisted on greeting you presently.

Why did he have to be so loud?

You tried to reply, but your voice was dry and hoarse. The sound coming from your vocal cords while meaning to be a “Yeah,” came out more like a cat hacking up a fur ball.

Surprisingly, though, he heard you. Either that or he disregarded his manners as usual and opened the door anyway to find you still sprawled across your bed. Your hair no doubt splayed in every which way across your face and back, while your nose dripped with the mucus you had zero fucks of wiping in that present moment.

His eyes did a once over your weakened form and he commented in a way only he could get away with. At least at present because you had no energy to throttle him.

“Woah! Sweetheart! You look like shit!”

A groan that was meant to come out as a sarcastic “thanks” escaped your throat. ‘Way to make a girl feel better, jackass.’

You slowly sat up, making sure your clothes hadn’t bunched awkwardly in any of the wrong places as you did so. The fear of accidentally exposing yourself to him while you were still stuck in the friend zone fuelled you, even in your under the weather state.

Once upright, your body swayed. Its own weight, too heavy to hold itself and your head up on top of it. Arms doing their best to support you, along with your legs and feet that you dropped to the floor.

Dean’s eagle eyes had been watching you the entire time. Studying your movements and observing the way you scrunched up your face in pain and discomfort.

Without an invitation or an explanation, he walked over to where you now sat and placed himself beside you. A hand coming up to feel your forehead. The drops of sweat transferring to the back of his hand, along with the heat that radiated off of your skin.

“You’re sick!” he exclaimed, his voice hitching on the end.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ your inner voice said, but “Hmph” was the sound that escaped you.

“You should lie back down. I’ll go get you some aspirin or something.”

The something scared you and you shook your head in protest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. We gotta break that fever. Wait here.” And he stood up and left the room.

Now alone again and no longer feeling the pressure to sit up in front of company, you allowed your body to flop back onto the bed. Your head missing your pillow by inches, but you didn’t care. It was easier to lie where you now lay. Moving was just as difficult as speaking had been, and sleep soon took you again.

You woke to the feeling of something or someone shaking you this time. Strong hands on your shoulders, gripping the muscle and flesh over them too tight.

“Help me sit her up.” A male voice rung through your ears again.

“Dude, she’s really burning up. I don’t know if this’ll be enough.”

“Just, okay Sammy!” said the first.

A second set of hands grabbed your own, and you were pulled and pushed into a sitting position. A softer feeling headboard, or was it a hard muscly mattress, slipped in behind your back? It grew arms and then wrapped them around your frame, pulling you against it.

Fingers pried open your mouth and placed a small object on your tongue. A hard, smoother one pushed against your lips and cool liquid flowed against your teeth and down your chin. A second pair of fingertips massaged your neck and the tiny pill shaped thing eased down your throat and into your stomach.

Your head still pounded when you awoke again, but your body felt less cold and more comfortable. The grogginess of waking made it clear you had finally managed some uninterrupted sleep.

But your pillow felt hard, and it wasn’t like that before. It didn’t smell of whiskey and gunpowder, either. The same scent you loved to smell when you sat in Baby or next to… Dean…

His soft flannel was on your cheek. Short spikey ends of his five o’clock shadow pressed through the strands of hair that graced your head, tickling your scalp underneath. His hand rested on your side, draped lightly by the arm that wrapped around your back.

You were on a lean, lying against Dean. His sock covered feet attached to the end of his denim covered bow legs came into view as you opened your eyes for the first time since he’d arrived in your room earlier that day.

As you moved to sit up, startled by the position you’d found yourself in, his hand pressed you down, gentle but firm. “Stay still and rest, sweetheart,” he said. “I got you.”

You swallowed the lump in your dry, aching throat and attempted to talk. “Dean?” His name left your lips shaky and coarse.

“Best not to talk…” His body leaned some, shifting back into place almost as quick with the addition of a glass tumbler half full of water. “Here…”

The cup tilted into your lips and the cool liquid from earlier lined your inner mouth and throat, relieving the scratch that had tickled them some.

Dean leaned back again, and you heard the glass hit the wood of the table at the edge of your bed. “Better?” he asked softly.

Your head only nodded in response, lazilly and slow was all you could manage.

“Good. You had us worried. Go back to sleep. I got you.”

—————————————————————DEAN TAG LIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007

If you’d like to be added to the list, lmk.

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (six)

franco colapinto - "how do you like that?"

tags: smut/pwp, phone/facetime sex, mutual masturbation, voice kink, dirty talk

sinful sentences catalogue

weeks apart, you have been apart for weeks. while formula one had been a blessing to franco, it had be a source of personal hell for you. while his karting career meant he was away a lot, at least the schedule allowed you to visit him more often. but with you wrapped up in your own academic work, you had been without the touch of your lover for close to four weeks now.

and things were getting dire for you. you missed sleepy mornings together, you missed the good luck kisses, you missed his jokes and his laugh. you missed the smell of him after a shower (sometimes after a work out) - he was such an important part of your life that without it everything felt grayer.

you tried to keep a positive outlook though, you cheered him on and watched every race. you were his number on fan on top of being his lover. but you could only masturbate so many times with your face in his pillow before you started to get cramps in your hands.

but a small saving grace came when you got a text message from franco asking if you wanted to facetime - "i miss you, my love. i want to see your face once more!"

you were both sexually needy. franco wanted you and casual catch-up turned into him without his shirt on and his hand grasped around his cock in his sweatpants. his breathing heavy as he positioned his phone up against some pillows. to eye you with heat while he pleasured himself.

you did the same before you kicked off your sweatpants and took off your (formerly his) t-shirt. he caught sight of your breasts and gripped his cock a little tighter to off-set the throb of erection. you drove him crazy, you were something else entirely. that was why he wanted you so badly, why he craved for you the way someone craved food or water. your pretty tits were a life source for him.

"i wish you were here right now. i wish i was back home in your bed. does it still smell like me, angel? you know i have one of your sweaters, sadly it accidentally got covered in cum. but when i get home, i'm going to put it on you and fuck you right up against your dresser until all those little toys fall off." his voice was heavy with lust, his breathing was heavy as he got his cock out of his sweatpants. he couldn't take anymore. not while you looked so beautiful for him.

"i miss you franco." you said softly, "i'm so proud of you, but i miss our time together. i want you, fuck. anyway i can have you, i just need you, honey." you started to rub your achy clit, your wetness got all over the fabric of your panties and seeped through onto your hand.

the feeling was intense as you two started to pleasure yourselves. franco's phone fell over once and he was quick to move it back as he stroked his cock quickly. pleasure zapped through your bodies, even so much space between you two, you felt the connectivity between you two. the closeness you shared as you masturbated together.

"i missed you too." he groaned, "every day we are apart, it feels like days upon days. i missed you, i missed our home. i miss the way you laugh and how you look when you are asleep. and i know that you think you look ugly when you sleep, but i love it. i love all of you." he groaned as he continued to pleasure himself. his hand fisted his cock as he felt the pleasure leap through his body.

he kept his eyes near glued to the screen by him, the sight of your hands in between your legs. you looked beautiful in a way that words failed him. the usual charming franco colapinto was at a loss for words in regards to your beauty. knowing that you were touching yourself because of him, that you couldn't deny yourself pleasure in regards to your lover.

"you'll be home soon, and when you come home, i'm going to make it special. because you've been working so hard, i miss you. but i'm so proud." you whimpered as you touched yourself further. you could feel the pleasure through your body the more you touched yourself, "i'll make our reunion special, babe. that's a promise." the words were filthy and he loved it, he loved you.

"i'll take care of you, my love." he said softly, "make up for lost time. you and i, you better buy enough groceries for two weeks because we won't be leaving the apartment." he chuckled lowly, "i want to remember every part of you while we are apart."

franco wanted to touch you. he wanted his strong hands up and down your body, he wanted to feel his lover under his touch. he wanted to hit your sweet spot, the spots you couldn't quite reach. he wanted to feel your climax and then kiss your heated skin once you came down from the high. he wanted everything, he was a lover in that way. the kind that wanted you in every capacity. just one of the funner ways was to fuck you.

facetime would just have to make due until he finally got his hands back on you. to see you on the screen masturbating did arouse him greatly. he tensed his grasp around his cock as he continued to let his mouth run with his affection towards you. "you look beautiful, even with that shit camera of your phone. but i know your body anywhere. look at your breasts, your pussy. that look on your face." he purred as he continued to stroke. he could feel the want in his body as he made the pleasure grow in his core.

"how do you like that?" you asked, near pathetic.

"my hand is nothing like you. but, i'll think about when i see you again. two more races and then i am all yours. just as you are mine, right?" he panted heavily as the pleasure raced through him further. he could feel the tension in his body from the intense feeling of it all. his heart hammered and he could feel it down to his feet.

"sweet talker."

he chuckled, "only for you, my love. only you make me act like this. when i'm with you, i lose control. even over a screen, i want you. fuck, i need you." he licked his lips as the pleasure continued to mount in his body. he stroked his cock heavier and let the pleasure wash over him. the thrill of want in his core only grew the more he touched himself. he switched up the pace every so often to keep the pleasure throbbing in his brain.

"i love you, franco." you groaned.

"and i love you." he replied. he watched you through half-lidded eyes as you brought yourself to climax. he said as you panted through climax, "when i come home, you'll get the real thing. i promise." there was a lust to his words that only emboldened you to continued to pleasure yourself through orgasm.

and it excite franco enough to finish as well. he came with a groan and tried to bite back his words getting too loud. williams didn't need to know what he was getting up to tonight. the pleasure washed over him as you teased your clit to the sight of him orgasming.

you soon both stopped your pace and laid out on your respective beds. you brought the phone closer to him and looked at his flushed expression. you giggled and made kissing noises towards the camera which made him laugh a little.

"a few more weeks, my love. then i am back home and i'm back in your arms." he smiled dreamily at you, "i'm thinking maybe, after the season, i can take some of the racing money and we can go somewhere for the holidays. i want to make up for all the time we're apart. what do you say?"

his gesture made your cheeks heat up a little bit. you replied as franco got a good look at your face on the screen, "make me finish harder than i just did. and i'll go anywhere with you."

"then, my love, i suggest you pack your bags." <3

[0wlettie]

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: you've been avoiding caleb recently because you've just realized how you truly feel about him, but when life hits you hard one day, you realize that you might need him more than you thought you would...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 16.9k, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, clingy, crybaby!reader, pet names (princess, good girl), light D/s dynamics, crying (but in sexy way), dirty talk, slight degradation/dumbification, possessive behavior, (because it wouldn't be a caleb fic if he wasn't at least a little bit possessive) fingerfucking, pussy eating, unprotected sex, subspace but it isn't really talked about, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you want to read there ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: this is my first ever lads piece and i worked very hard on this absolute monster of a fic, so i hope whoever happens to come across this enjoys it; beta'd by me so any mistakes are my own; title comes from IKUK by ONEUS because i played the fuck outta that song writing this and it slaps ! as this is nsfw Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs will be blocked)

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Burying yourself further into the depths of your hoodie, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. The elevator is currently out of commission; some sort of mechanical error, the bright orange note taped to the cautioned off doors stated, so you’re forced to make the grueling journey to the seventh floor by stairs alone.

After an eight-hour long shift working at a department store nearly an hour away by bus, you’re maybe a little more than upset at the prospect of being on your feet longer than you really have to be. Unfortunately, you’re left with little other options at this point. It wasn’t like you could magically teleport to the seventh floor. Sighing long and loud, you rub your eyes.

“Fucking whatever, man.” You grumble to yourself, readjusting your bookbag before turning around and heading to the stairs. The sight of all those floors is intimidating, but you force your feet to move regardless. Even if the soles of your aching feet are screaming at you to stop, you continue on. Once or twice you lean against the wall for a bit of a breather, only moving again when you’re startled by the notifications of your socials on your phone.

You are so fucking tired.

But still, you take one more painful step. Then another. Then another. One by one by one until—

‘Home sweet home.’ You think a little hysterically, barely glancing at the shiny gold 713 before pushing your way through the door. After, of course, fumbling through your various pockets looking for your keys. Your fingers are shaking slightly, but that’s easily ignored once you finally make it inside. You inhale sharply, blindly feeling for the door behind you as you toss your bag to the floor. You take in your apartment as you close your door with your back, absently kicking off your shoes.

To your right is your bathroom, to your left is your ‘bedroom’ and straight ahead is the kitchenette. It's a cozy little thing, your place; a studio you found for cheap a few months after graduating highschool three years ago. It’s not the greatest place—there's water damage on various parts of the ceiling, a few moldy spots in the bathroom that refuse to leave, the a/c unit does shit all during the summer, there’s basically no insulation so it’s freezing during the winter and you can hear everything going on with your neighbors upstairs and downstairs. Oh, and the indoor washer-dryer unit never works so you have to haul your dirty laundry down the elevator once a week to the nearest laundromat if you don’t want to smell like ass.

This place is a dump, but it's your beloved dump—all the plushies, figures and books lining the shelves prove that fact. Even if it’s a little chillier now that the sun’s gone down, the familiarity would usually be enough to slow your heart rate and lower your defenses.

It’s not enough, though. That thrum of anxiety still runs through your veins, and you’re about three seconds away from hyperventilating. You’ve gone past the tired phase of your day, and are now verging onto the ‘mental breakdown’ part. Groaning and pretending like you don’t feel the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes, you turn towards your little kitchen area and shuffle in. It's pure muscle memory that has you reaching for the cabinet above the stove, pulling out the hot cocoa mix and your favorite mug in seconds. Your routine has been the same for months now—hot chocolate, some cookies, your favorite plush throw and a show you’ve already seen before to help numb the panic. It was the most effective method you’ve come up with, the only one to work long enough for you to get some sleep.

Well. It was the second most effective. The first was currently a two-hour drive away at college, studying for a career in the aerospace field.

You bite down on your lip hard when tears pool in your eyes, and unconsciously, your gaze is drawn to the cluster of polaroids pinned to the front of your refrigerator. Photos of various things cover the pale surface—the sky at dusk, a stray cat that occasionally shows up by the park down the street, fireworks from a festival you went to last year, a silly picture of you in the mirror that’s mostly the flash of a camera—but the one that stands out to you the most is underneath a cartoonish magnet of an airplane.

You’re pressed together cheek to cheek with a boy a few years older than you at the time. A huge grin splits your face, your eyes squinting closed from the glare of the camera. His smile is a little smaller, controlled. But there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds two fingers up behind your head, his other arm holding onto the camera off screen.

It’s you and Caleb Xia. Your best friend in the entire world. 

The man you’re deeply in love with.

Seeing his face after months of barely any contact is enough for the ache in your chest to fully affect you. Your hands shake so badly that you accidentally end up dropping your mug. You’re too slow to catch it, and you watch in numb detachment as it falls and shatters against your wooden floors, shards bouncing off the floor to land on the soft purple cotton of your kitty socks.

You promptly burst into tears, squatting down to cup your knees as you cry loudly into the space you’ve made.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Thick, salty tears run warm tracks down your cheeks as you sob into the open air. You try to blink them away as fast as you can, and when that doesn’t work, you roughly scrub your face. You haven’t cried like this in a while, but it was a long time coming. You were on the verge of a meltdown—you could feel it as days passed you by. That doesn’t make you feel any better, though. Not when you’re kneeling on the ground trying to pick up shards of ceramic while blind from your tears. It’s a recipe for disaster, but nothing can really ruin your day more than this. You certainly don’t care if you accidentally cut yourself, not when it feels like your very world is ending.

“Shit!” You lose your grip on one of the shards you grab. You quickly yank your hand back to avoid getting cut as it falls back to the ground. It breaks even further upon impact, and a hysterical scream threatens to erupt from your mouth, but you hastily swallow it back down. The walls are thin and you don’t need a nosy neighbor to see you like this.

‘Can’t blame anyone but yourself, dumbass.’ The voice in your head berates you. No one told you to push away the one person who could make it all better—you were the one who decided that all on your own. It’s painful to admit, even to yourself, but it’s true. You’re trying your damnedest to avoid Caleb, and you’ve been doing so for a couple months by now.

It’s easy to blame conflicting schedules and the hours separating your homes for the distance. Easy to pin the blame on your exhaustion after long days, his work as a part-time mechanic, the fact that you’re an adult and you can’t keep going to him when you just feel like it. Waking him up at three in the morning because you suddenly feel lonely. Calling him during work or class because you have to tell him about this funny post you saw on one of your socials. Cuddling and hanging all over him because touching him makes you happy and warm and safe.

Kimberly—a coworker of yours—was right to low-key call you out on your seemingly unhealthy dependence on Caleb. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it was her offhand comment that got you to fully realize how you feel about him.

Wow, with how much you cling to the guy I was sure he was your boyfriend or something.

Except Caleb isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your best friend—the only friend you can confidently say you have.

But the thought of him becoming more than that was surprisingly…tempting. An idea you never dared to contemplate was suddenly brought to the forefront of your mind and now you couldn’t escape how right it would feel. But those thoughts were scary, and there were times where you almost slipped up and said something more than strictly platonic. You could only imagine the look on Caleb’s face as he’d let you down gently—because there was no way he’d ever consider you as a girlfriend, not when he still views you as nothing more than his childhood best friend, a little kid sister. It hurts, that realization; cuts deeply in a way you’ve never felt before and that’s when it truly clicks in your head.

Unconsciously, you think you always knew how you really felt about Caleb. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time when you didn’t care deeply for him. A thousand little moments along the course of your lives together just eventually added up into something stronger than platonic affection; something that consumed your mind, body and soul until nothing was left for him to take. Not that you were trying to blame him for your own emotions, it’s just…hard to keep yourself out of his orbit. Harder still to try and live with these feelings of yours. So you took the coward’s way out and just…pushed them away.

You stopped calling so randomly. Stopped bothering him at work. Stopped sending him random links to nearby cafes where you could go together. Stopped inviting him over for sleepovers and movie nights. Started to decline his invitations out, his subtle questions of spending time together, his concerned texts until…

Until here you are; crying on the floor of your dumpy apartment, alone and cleaning up the broken shards of your favorite mug. A mug Caleb gave to you as a housewarming gift. It was one of the cutest little things you'd ever seen; stubby, round and in the shape of a panda bear, it fits your aesthetic to a T. It was large enough to carry at least two cups worth of tea or hot chocolate, and even though it was a bit bulky for your own smaller hands, it made your day whenever you did use it. And now it’s in a bunch of tiny pieces scattered along your wooden floors.

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes as you stare down at one of the panda’s broken eyeballs. The furious churning in your gut makes you feel sick and more than anything you wish you weren’t here anymore. In this cold, lonely and broken apartment of yours. You wish you were with Caleb.

You miss him.

You miss his stupidly tall self. How safe and protected he makes you feel. How much he makes you laugh when you're sad. How comforting his hands are whenever you accidentally hurt yourself. You miss the gentle, teasing cadence of his voice; the depth of his pretty colored eyes; the security and warmth of his hugs. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m such a mess.” You whisper roughly, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall, hoping they’ll stop soon. But they don’t, slowly but surely continuing to wet your flushed and puffy face. You groan and cover your eyes with your balled up fists, blindly sitting back on your ass and scooting along the floor until your back hits the nearest surface. You bring your knees up until they rest underneath your chin, wrapping your arms around them and squeezing.

There’s a brewing ache settling in your chest; a gaping hole where Caleb still sits despite everything. You were the one who viciously dug him out, but you still can’t help but feel sorry for yourself anyway. It’s not like he doesn’t still reach out, but you feel like there’s this wide canyon between the two of you now. You don’t know if you can even force yourself to reach out first, not when you feel so guilty for ignoring him in the first place. 

Unmoored and lost in waves of pain and loneliness, you sit there for what feels like an eternity, drowning over and over and over again. As time passes, though, that raging sea calms into something manageable. Your tears eventually dry up and your breathing evens out a bit, but you still feel like you’re on that precipice. Like one wrong move will have you slipping into a free fall, back into the angry, churning sea of your heartache.

RING! RING-RINNG!

An obnoxiously loud tone rings out from your stomach, and you just about jump ten feet into the air.

“Fuck!” You scream, accidentally hitting your head on the countertop above you. You yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you fumble through your hoodie pocket for your phone with one hand, the other going to gingerly feel around the throbbing area of your skull. You recognize the familiar tone and it sends your slightly calmed heart back into overdrive; beating so fiercely that you’re afraid it’s going to burst through your ribcage. The pain immediately turns into something unimportant as you dig your phone out of your pocket.

Your eyes are locked onto a smiling photo of Caleb. It’s him in his mechanic’s uniform, unbuttoned halfway through and showing the white tank top underneath, grease smeared all over him and his clothes with his sleeves half rolled up. He’s unfairly and stupidly handsome and you hate that it’s the photo you have saved for him. You hesitate as the ringing continues. Should you pick it up? You’re still so hurt and lonely, but do you really have the courage to answer after you’ve been treating him so unfairly this entire time?

One more look at his smiling face has you immediately folding like a wet paper napkin, however, and you answer the call moments later.

Except that it’s a facetime rather than a phone call, a fact you realize once your face greets you after you pick up. Luckily, his eyes are drawn off to the side, so you quickly turn the camera around to face your socked feet. You frantically curse inside of your head, but there’s nothing to be done now. You don’t have the heart to hang up on him, not when you can see every little detail of his pretty face. The sight already has you feeling better, even when he hasn't even acknowledged you yet.

You’re a weak, weak person.

“You know, when someone facetimes you it's because they want to see your face.” The clear, teasing tone of his voice causes your cheeks to darken, his eyes flicking up and then down to lock onto your feet pointedly. The last time you two were speaking by voice was…maybe two and a half weeks ago? A far cry from how you used to call him at least twice a day. Despite the snark, you can’t help but savor the warmth in his words. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t reply somehow.

“Fuck off, you know I don’t like facetimes, Caleb.” You grumble, attempting to be normal but you fail within seconds. Your voice cracks halfway through your sentence and there’s an audible stuffiness to your nose that carries over to your speech. It’s so painfully obvious that you’ve been crying.

That amiable cheer of his dissolves immediately, his eyes snapping to stare directly into the camera as his smile morphs into a noticeable frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes dart over the screen frantically, like he can figure out the answer based on your socked feet and kitchen floor alone. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he somehow did—Caleb’s strangely good with small details and can tell your mood just by looking for your subtle microexpressions. While you know some others around him have found it a bit strange, you just think it's sweet how deeply he cares about things like that. It’s…cute, to you. You like that he pays so close attention.

You see some of that perceptiveness when Caleb zeroes in on something small near your feet. His eyes narrow slightly, but before you can even look to see what exactly he’s staring intently at, his eyes are raising up to stare back into the camera. Like he can see you even when it isn’t facing you directly.

“Turn your camera around.” 

You bite your bottom lip at the seriousness of his tone. The statement sounds more like an order and while normally you’d at least tease him for it, maybe even sass him back for the firmness of his words, you just can’t bring yourself to ignore him. Not when it feels like you can finally breathe after what feels like ages.

Still, you hesitate.

Rubbing your cheek, you look down at the ‘switch camera’ button. It would be so easy to just let Caleb in right now, to let him see just what a fucking mess you are so he can make everything be okay again. But your coworkers' words float through your mind—how strange it is to be so reliant on someone when you yourself are a grown ass adult. Nervously, you rub your feet together, taking a bit of comfort in the soft fabric rubbing against your skin. You don’t know what to do…both sides are warring within you and the more you try and decide, the harder it is to come to a decision.

That’s when Caleb speaks up, almost as if he can sense your indecision.

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. You know I can make it feel better.” You breath hitches, your heart thumping so fast that all the blood rushes to your ears in an instant. Caleb’s voice is so soothing—so soft and sweet and comforting that tears prick the corners of your eyes. You want to be with him so badly that it makes your chest ache with longing. 

“Caleb..!” You sniffle out, hiding behind your hand when his gaze becomes too much for you. Your face feels so hot that you’re afraid of spontaneously combusting. God, he knows how to make you weak and you would be angry at him if it didn’t make you feel so small and safe.

“You don’t have to worry with me around—you know that I’ll take care of you, don’t you? C’mon, lemme help you out like you need me to.” You peek above your hand, shivering at the intensity of his stare. It’s in stark contrast with his softly murmured words, and your brain goes a little fuzzy the longer you meet his gaze.

Caleb has always taken care of you, even when you were nothing but the lonely, annoying little girl who lived next door. Three years his junior and acting like a crybaby at even the slightest of inconveniences, he should’ve naturally found you insufferable. But he never once turned you away, no matter how many times he had to dry your tears, play with you, help you study and so, so much more. He always made sure you were looked after when your parents were too busy to even care, bringing you over to dinner with his parents or even sharing some of his lunch with you when he knew you hadn’t eaten. Caleb has always been there to make it better, to take care of you and make all of your worries fade away. Why wouldn’t he do the same now? He’s completely right—you need him.

“You promise?’ You whisper, the tears pooling in your eyes overflowing as you hiccup.

“I promise.” He says solemnly. Silently, you reach out and press the reverse camera button.

His eyes track rapidly over your face once the camera switches, no doubt cataloging the very obvious evidence of your crying fest. The thickness of his brows furrow into slants as he takes in your face, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down as concern lights up his dusk-purple irises. You stare at each other for a few quiet beats, the only noise coming from Caleb’s end as he moves to somewhere a little quieter. The slight sounds of murmuring and laughter gradually fade away as he goes somewhere private, the lights casting a warm glow over his complexion as he sits down. 

‘Maybe he was at a party? Or a friend’s house?’

“...Bad day?” Clearly, he’s waiting for you to open up before he does anything else. You shy away from his knowing gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your tears. You’re an adult who pays rent and taxes—you should be more than capable of handling these emotions on your own but…but you also can’t help but like that Caleb wants to help you too.

He’s obviously waiting patiently for you to reply, but you stall just a little longer. Tugging at a strand of your hair that fell out of your bun, chewing on your bottom lip as you count the handles on your cabinets, tugging at the loose thread of your hoodie pocket…the excuses continue until you have nothing else to do but stare at Caleb. It’s only then that you begin to tell him about your day, underneath the gentle patience of his warm gaze.

From your alarm going off a half hour late so you had to rush through your normal routine in order to catch the bus on time. To the older woman who yelled at you for not having the right dress size for her daughter’s baby shower and complaining to your manager. To the weird, creepy homeless man who harassed you at the bus stop and even followed you on until the bus driver noticed and kicked him off a few stops before yours. To then have to walk up seven flights of stairs because the elevator all of a sudden wanted to have a problem today of all days. And now, with your feet carefully tucked away from the mess you made earlier when you clumsily dropped your favorite mug ever and broke it into a million little pieces. It was all just too fucking much and you felt like you were going crazy because you should be able to handle these events but you just can’t—

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Caleb’s voice is like a beacon in the night; a guiding light for you to follow to safety lost amongst the roaring, crashing waves of your turbulent emotions. Shakily, you inhale deep and slow breaths, following Caleb’s instructions as he continues to stare at you. You feel ridiculous crying again, and something on your face must show that because Caleb shoots you a look.

“Stop that already. There’s nothing wrong with feelin’ this deeply, princess. Especially since you've already had such a long day.” You toss him a pout, trying and failing to not let his kind words affect you. He sees through your attempt easily, a helplessly fond expression taking over the worry as he watches you wipe the remaining tear off your cheeks. A comfortable silence follows his words, and you take the time to compose yourself a little. As much as you hate to admit, talking to Caleb did wonders for your current mood. You feel a whole lot better than you did before.

“How we doin’? Better, now?”

You nod, rubbing away the last of your stray tears. He smiles softly, eyes taking in your calmed expression.

“Good, good.” He mumbles, and you finally notice a peculiar jangling sound emanate from his side of the phone. Tilting your head slightly, you focus your attention back on Caleb. Before, when he called, he was dressed in a casual graphic-muscle tee and the shining silver chain you had gifted him when he first went away to college. Now, there was a leather jacket tossed over the shirt, and judging from the echo and the faint ringing sound, it looked like he was in a…car?!

‘He wasn’t–!’

“Caleb…please tell me you aren’t coming over to my place now!?” He shoots you a cheeky smile in response—something that makes panic and delight swell within your lower belly so fast that you have no idea what you’re feeling more. Logic wins out, however, and you try to dissuade him as quickly as possible.

“Caleb, it’s 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night! With traffic it’ll be at least a three hour trip!”

“Mah, it’s no big deal at all. I only have one class tomorrow and even if I do miss it, it won’t be too much of a hit. No biggie.” He says flippantly, shrugging his shoulders with a half-smile. You suddenly want to reach through the camera to smack him on the back of his head. This is not a ‘no biggie’ matter! A five to six hour round trip is just ridiculous, even for your best friend.

“Caleb!”

“Princess!” He tosses back mockingly, and you fight back the urge to melt. He knows that little nickname of his is unfair—it’s why he’s abusing it so thoroughly now. But this just feels like way too much, especially since you’re feeling a lot better than before.

“I-I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to go out of your way like this…”

He pauses, and you can see in his hands are the keys to his car. He shoots you a look as he lowers his hand, one that sends a bolt of heat through your veins.

“Then tell me not to come.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tell me, then. If you really don’t want me to come over, then say it.” You open your mouth, ready to do just that but you falter at his expectant face. As much as you were protesting before, the thought of seeing him in person—of feeling his big, warm hands around you makes your chest squeeze painfully. You easily acquiesce after a few moments of staring into his eyes, groaning into the palm of your hand to avoid his smug expression. Though, when you glance back at him, that little curl to his lips is still there—prominent when combined with the bright and satisfied look in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I’ll see you soon, then.”

You murmur out something vaguely coherent, but Caleb doesn’t let you go without one last goodbye.

“Bye, princess.’’

“...goodbye, Caleb.’’

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Freshly showered and an apartment as tidy as you can make it with thirty minutes left—glass cleaned up and everything—you anxiously wait on the futon that serves as your bed. Your skin is still a little dewy from the water, and your hair is a bit wet, but it’s safely twisted and pinned up into two buns on top of your head. Dressed in a soft and worn pair of grey sweats and an oversized maroon hoodie that you’re ninety percent sure is Caleb’s, you’re as comfortable you can possibly get at the moment. With a nest of plush and colorful throws as well as a few plushies to keep you company, you recline back on the futon, currently in its couch mode. You try to make yourself look as natural as possible, but an anxious tingle still remains low in your belly.

This will be the first time seeing Caleb in months and it’s nerve wracking.

You have no idea how to even act around him. Will he bring up the distance between you both? Will he avoid it? Or will he just wait for you to eventually tell him what’s wrong—something that you’ve done in the past on numerous occasions. Hiding things from Caleb never really is a thing you do; he’s just too good at figuring you out, and you have this compulsion to spill your guts whenever you stare at him too long.

But how would you even go about explaining it all? 

“Ugh, I hate this.” You groan, covering your face with one of your plushies as you curl up on the futon. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel now. So much for trying to be self-sufficient. You ended up having to depend on Caleb yet again to help you. And he was driving all the way to Linkon! Three hours was a long time, and you know he’s had a full day of classes and work, so he was no doubt exhausted. Not to mention the stairs! Fuck, you really are the worst, aren’t you?

You curl up even tighter as the embarrassment blooms into bright and ugly shame. Tears push at the corners of your eyes again and you wish you could stop crying already, but you just can’t. Sniffling, you rub your cheek against the silky-smooth fur of your seal plush. Another gift from Caleb—a birthday one, actually. You both had spent the day at the mall where you two went around for hours. He won the little guy in a crane game that was outside of one of the cutesy stores you like to peek your head in occasionally. It had taken a few more tries than he would have liked—his words verbatim—but you eventually left the mall with one more plush heavier.

‘More evidence that I need to grow up.’ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a loud breath. Yeah, you were never going to give up your collection of plushies. Childish or not, you deserve to have sweet, cute little guys you can cuddle up to when you need a bit of happiness. With one last cheek rub to your seal, you slowly sit up and pat your cheeks. Glancing at the clock, you realize that Caleb’s got about fifteen more minutes or so. 

“Maybe I can order something for us to eat? That fried chicken place that he likes so much should still be open now...” Opening up your phone, you’re about to tap the food delivery service app, but a knock at your door stops you. You blink, confused, before Caleb’s muffled voice comes from behind the heavy, brown wood.

“You mind gettin’ the door?” 

You scramble up from your seat, flailing a little when your feet get tangled up in your blankets. The struggle you go through is loud and obvious, so by the time you get the door open, Caleb’s smile is wide and amused.

“Doin’ alright there, princess?” You opt to ignore his rhetorical question, glancing down at the bulging white bag dangling from his left hand. Double bagged you can’t really tell what’s in it—just that it’s full and heavy looking, a logo of a nearby convenience store on the front. You glance back up at his smiling face. Normally, you’d have already jumped him, and your usual song and dance involves you hanging off of his neck like a monkey while he ushers his way inside; lightly bickering all the while. However…you’re trying to be considerate here. He’s likely tired from all the work he’s had today, so pouncing on him like some overexcited puppy wouldn’t be welcome, you’re sure. Instead, you opt for something a lot more toned down.

“Did you really buy snacks? I was gonna just order something for us. To, y’know, make up for all that gas you used.” You pout a little, pulling Caleb in by his wrist and kicking the door shut behind him. The warmth from his skin seeps into your hand, and you fight the urge to wrap yourself around him like a koala. Face feeling hot, you pretend like your thoughts aren’t totally embarrassing and pull him towards the futon. You carefully keep your eyes trained on the chains dangling from his jeans instead of meeting the stare you can feel boring through your forehead. 

Before you can get very far, though, he gently stops you by tugging his wrist back a little, mindful not to dislodge your own hold. He herdes you to your kitchenette with a little snort, depositing the bag in his hand onto the countertop with a muted ‘thump’.

“Why order out when I can just make you somethin’ instead?” He raises a brow, and you let go of his wrist so he can shrug out of his leather jacket. The thought of a home cooked meal sounds more than appealing at the moment, especially coming from Caleb. You swear that if he wasn’t so set on that aerospace engineering stuff that he’d be an amazing private chef. You tell him as much while he drapes his jacket over a metal hook drilled into the wall near the counter, belly growing warm at the sound of his laughter and the visual of his bare, muscled arms.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think I’m that good.” His smile is a little lopsided once he turns back to you, but it’s the way he opens his arms that truly turns that warmth into something scorching.

“Before the food, though, I think there’s somethin’ you’re forgetting to give me, hm?”

You inhale sharply, your lower lip trembling as you look at his face. His expression is a mask of calm, but there’s an anticipatory sort of fire in his eyes, and you realize that he wants you to jump him like you would normally. Resolve cracking once again into pieces, you immediately jump into his spread arms. Your own limbs fly up to wrap around his neck, and you stand on your tippy toes for only a second before his arms surround you, lifting until your legs wrap around his waist. He squeezes you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder while you hide away in the crook of his neck, your trembling hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

The cologne he wears floods your nose—something deep and masculine that makes you think of late night drives, clear lakes and winter nights. That familiar scent instantly has you sagging in his hold, trusting that he’s strong enough to carry your body weight as you press even closer to him. His warmth, his scent, the strength in his arms and the low, soothing hum he starts when you inevitably let loose a few tears and sob a little; all of it causes you to feel human—something you haven’t been feeling in a long, long while. You vow to yourself to never avoid him ever again—you think you would actually just keel over and die if you have to live without his hugs.

“I missed you.” Your teary voice is muffled by his throat, but he understands you perfectly regardless.

“Missed you too, princess.” One of the hands supporting your waist slides up your spine, stopping when it reaches the nape of your neck. He rests his hand there, fingers absently playing with the baby hairs at the base as you rub your nose against his neck. Your face feels like it’s pure magma with the way it burns, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re positive Caleb can feel it, with how close you two are pressed together. As flustered as this is making you feel, however, there is a part of you that’s just melting into the easy affection between you two. A part that’s growing the longer you’re touching him.

It feels so good to be in his arms again, to feel him enveloping you, keeping you safe and protected. The slow rise and fall of his chest soothes you, and your slight sniffles calm down. Sleepily, you rub your nose against his throat again, the action surprising a low chuckle out of him that makes your brain go blank with contentment. Eventually, though, you have to part. So, with one last squeeze, Caleb pats your back and gently lowers you to the ground. You only realize you’re pouting when one of his large hands comes up to squish your cheeks together. You squawk in protest, using one of your own hands to swat at his hand before he lets you go. 

“Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t look like that. Makes me wanna bully you when you’re acting cute.” The smile on his face is teasing, but there’s something contemplative in his gaze as he regards you. 

Your face flushes a blazing red, that sleepy soft feeling evaporating in an instant. His voice echoes loudly in your head as your eyes widen. Did he just…call you cute? No, he said you were acting cute. But, doesn’t that mean the same thing? Doesn’t it? You feel like you’re about to go insane from his flippant words, and you bring your hands up to cover your hot face in embarrassment. This kind of banter is normal for you two—it’s supposed to be normal, but now it’s all too much. You can’t…you can’t deal with him talking like that, not when you’ve just noticed how you really feel about him!

A strange expression flits across his face after he takes stock of you, but before you can even think to ask, the look is gone and he slings an arm over your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest, the smile audible in his voice as he leads you into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got a few options we can choose from…”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You end up choosing something simple but delicious—ramen! 

Your kitchen area is small, but composed of two separate counters; one connected to the wall in an L-shape with the sink, microwave and stove, the other splitting the area in half. Caleb is working near the sink and the stove, all of the ingredients spread out in an organized fashion. The water is set on the stove getting hot, the packs of noodles placed on the counter by it. Various toppings litter the surface of the counter—eggs, some seaweed, what looks like bok choy and pork belly. He knows it’s your absolute favorite and the thought of him specifically going out of his way to buy you something makes your heart thump inside of your chest painfully.

You’re sitting on top of the second counter, lighty swinging your feet back and forth as you watch him work. A heavy, almost burning feeling settles in your lower stomach as you do. He looks…at home, here, like he belongs in your kitchen. Moving about with an easy finesse that speaks of his intimate knowledge of your apartment.

How he only uses the first two burners because the back flames don’t get hot enough; how he knows exactly where you keep your pots and pans and other kitchen tools; how he knows that the cool water doesn’t flow from the faucet so he grabs one of the water bottles from out of the fridge; how he expertly maneuvers in your kind of cramped kitchenette despite his height, dodging around sharp corners and the hanging overhead lights like it’s instinct. It’s all too fucking much for you to take in. Like some sort of rom-com, domestic fantasy brought to life. The soft lofi station playing in the background of your apartment from your speaker only cements that fact. 

It should be nothing new to you—it is nothing new to you. Caleb and you have ended up in the kitchen together countless times before in the past. But you were ignorant back then. Now, you’re completely aware of how strongly you love Caleb, how deeply and wholly it consumes you, so all of the normal things you did together seem to carry a deeper meaning. But it has to be your imagination—it’s just all in your head. You can't believe that Caleb sees this any different than normal. Caleb is your best friend so he obviously loves you, just…not like how you love him.

It stings like a bitch to admit, but you have to come to terms with it. You won’t be avoiding him anymore, you’ve already decided that, so you need to be able to handle it when Caleb does something platonically affectionate. ‘You’re his best friend—like a little kid sister to him.’ You chant like a mantra inside of your head, trying to control the blush on your face when you watch his arms flex as he uses a knife. You can’t help but trace over his profile, lingering on the length of his eyelashes, the sharp just of his jawline, the soft furrow of his brow as he concentrates, the softened line of his pink lips. It’s kind of creepy how hard you stare, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when everything about him draws you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s goin’ on in that big ole brain of yours?” Caleb keeps his eyes trained on the pork belly he’s cutting, but you still feel his attention zero in on you regardless. You fidget a little, expecting the question yet not at the same time. What should you even say?

What you can only say, you think. The truth.

“I guess I’m just…sorry?” Your quiet voice comes out more like a question, and you drop your eyes to your socked feet as they sway. You can’t bear to look at Caleb anymore, not when the shame and guilt from before start to come back.

“Sorry?” 

You shrink back at the sound of his confusion, and as much as you loathe to bring it up first, the instinct to spill your guts wins. You’ve always been an open book to him, and after years of that habit, you don’t have the strength to change that now. 

“I…I’ve been avoiding you–,” A lump forms in your throat halfway through your words, and the rhythmic cutting of the knife abruptly stops. You keep your gaze down, but Caleb’s focus goes from being present in the background to suddenly being there. You can literally feel his eyes bore into your forehead. You hunch further into the hoodie on you—Caleb’s hoodie—as if it can physically hide you away from your problems. Still, you continue to speak, absently noticing Caleb start to move in the background.

“And I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I promise you. I just…I just figured that maybe I was, um, bothering you too much? I mean, I know I can be pretty annoying and you’ve been sweet to actually try and tolerate it, but I’ve got to grow up sometime, right? I shouldn’t be constantly texting or calling you over silly, nonsensical things about my day. I’m an adult, so I can’t be so selfish with you all the time, not when we both have our own separate lives to live—” You hiccup, and it's only then that you realize you’re crying again. Your fingers are bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing, your knuckles turning white from the strain. You sniffle, opening your mouth to continue, but another hiccup interrupts you as more tears blur your vision.

The abrupt sound of the sink turning on momentarily quiets your crying fit, and you snap your head up towards the sound. Caleb is furiously washing his hands, and you can only watch bewildered as he does so for the next thirty seconds. He whips back around after, absently drying his hands with a nearby towel before throwing it across the counter. His face is slightly pained as he stalkes towards you, and you’re suddenly aware of how big he is once he gets close.

His shoulders block out most of the overhead lights as he crowds into your personal space, his hands coming up to cup your flushed cheeks as he slides himself in between your legs. The stare he gives you is complicated; emotions flitting too fast for you to decipher with your obscured vision. Gently, he uses his thumbs to clean away the tears falling down your face, wiping away the ones in your eyes just a moment later. You sniffle a little, staring up at him with wide eyes as he slowly lowers his head to bump yours. 

“Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn’t always want you around?” There’s a genuine note of distress in voice, though it’s clear he tries his best to hide it.

You only cry harder, shaking your head as your hands go from clinging onto the hoodie you're wearing to his shirt. It feels so stupid to admit that someone else influenced you—to say out loud that you were being so cruel to someone so important and close to you because you were afraid. Afraid that your feelings would get the better of you. Afraid that you would drive Caleb away with your clinginess. Afraid that you’d crumble to pieces if he ever rejected you. Because you need him in your life like you need air to breathe.

The grip on your face tightens.

“You don’t have to be so quick to grow up without me, y’know? Who said you needed to do that?” He switches tactics a bit, injecting a lighter tone in his voice as he wipes away more of your tears. Your lower lip wobbles, but you do take his words to heart. A little bit, at least. You open and close your mouth, and it takes more than one try to speak past the lump in your throat, but you do after a few moments of patience.

“...You don’t think it’s immature? You don’t…you aren’t annoyed by me being so-so clingy?”

He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly when he gives you a soft smile. You sniffle again, leaning into the warm palms holding your face. Your fingers loosen the death grip you have on his shirt. He moves a little closer in response, and you can feel the heat from his body seep through the fabric of your pants. Goosebumps rise across your skin when you realize how close Caleb is to your inner thighs. ‘Focus.’ You demand yourself, breath hitching when Caleb swipes his thumb underneath your eye.

“Of course not. I like it when you call me up the way you…used to.” Pain briefly flashes across his face before that gentle smile comes back. Your lip wobbles at the sight, but he quickly shushes you, lightly squeezing your face. You understand the silent message and swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

“You…you seriously don’t mind that I want to,” live underneath your skin 24/7 “be near you anyway I can? Even if it means that I’m bothering you when you’re busy?” Your inner thoughts mortify you, but the idea of being around Caleb all day, every day is so appealing to you that you feel insane with the way your entire being yearns for that to be the case.

“You never bother me. You have to know that, right, princess?” You bite your lip, one part of you disbelieving while the other half sings with delight at hearing those words come from Caleb. Kimberly meant no harm when she planted the idea, but you’ve had months to turn it over repeatedly in your head, and your insecurities have been louder than ever in your isolation.

“I’ll start trying to…at least.” 

Caleb sighs a little, eyes flickering down for a moment before they meet yours squarely.

“Baby steps then.” He knocks your heads together gently before easing up his hunched shoulders. The palms cupping your cheeks leave after a few more seconds and he gives you one of his usual warm smiles.

“No more ignorin’ me, alright?”

You tellingly don’t say anything right away. You know you’re not going to avoid him anymore, it’s just, making your voice work after all of that feels like a herculean endeavor. Sniffling, you slowly blink up at him. Your silence makes his smile grow wide enough for his eyes to close, but there’s a rigidness to his expression that makes your stomach swoop. He leans back down, one of his hands tucking underneath your chin to raise it, the other falls to rest next to one of your legs on the counter. The back of his knuckles brush against your skin and you feel your eyes widen at the sharp look he shoots your way when his eyes open, smile fixed in place.

“You won’t ignore me anymore, right.” The soft murmur sounds more like a threat than a question, and that swooping sensation returns. You realize that you’re getting excited by the look in his eyes, your flush only growing more prominent when you feel yourself get embarrassingly wet from the intensity. You instinctively move to cross your legs, but since he’s still in between them they only tighten around his waist. His eyes drop to look down before they raise back up, one of his eyebrows arched as searches your face. After he looks his fill, a slight smirk curls the side of his lips up, and his head tilts to the side in an almost sarcastic fashion.

“R-right, I promise!” You stammer out, breath hitching when that downright mean look lasts for a beat longer before his smile becomes real. He pulls back the hand underneath your chin while the other gently rests on the outside of your thigh, lightly patting it before he removes himself from your personal space. Your breath whooshes out of you loudly, your heartbeat going a mile per minute as your red face gets even redder. His smile somehow gets brighter in response.

“Perfect. Now, just sit there and relax. Dinner should be ready in just a little bit.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You stop pulling away from Caleb after that night.

You never did fully explain to him why exactly you started distancing yourself, no matter how subtle and unsubtly he tried to pry. You guess you feel embarrassed by the reason. Embarrassed that you allowed your fears to get in the way of your friendship—that you allowed these stupidly intense feelings of yours to negatively affect one of the few good things in your life. So you keep the real catalyst to yourself, instead focusing on catching up with Caleb. You haven't really spoken-spoken in…four and a half months, so there was a lot to catch up on. Which was easy enough to do once you started regularly calling and texting him. 

However, some things were still different, no matter how much you tried for it not to be.

Since you had your little revelation, everything and anything Caleb did that was even the slightest bit affectionate had you blushing like crazy. Constantly, you were flustered by the very obvious care he showed you, which had been amplified ever since you started talking again. It was like he was compensating for your insecurities by being extra sweet to you, and it was driving you insane to try and keep your head on straight.

He made a point to see you in person at least once a week, alternating between taking you out to eat or to walk around the mall, or cooking you something at home and watching movies. Without fail, Caleb would show up at your door knocking like clockwork. It worried you, at first. You didn’t want him to overexert himself in an effort to make you feel better, but you realized something about three weeks into this new routine.

Caleb needed it as much as you seemed to.

He was subtle about it, but you knew the man as well as he did you. So you noticed how relaxed he would get when you would ask him for things. How genuinely thrilled he seemed when you spoke openly about your feelings. How quickly he would respond to your texts even when he was busy, or how he picked up every single time without fail whenever you called. How he would jump at the chance to spend even a little bit of time with you.

How easily he would touch you.

You guys were physically affectionate before, but now…it was happening way more often. A hand on your waist, your lower back, resting behind your back or draped over your shoulder when you sat down; ruffling your loose hair or snagging your wrist when you playfully pulled away for him; pinching your cheeks to tease you, cupping underneath your jaw to emphasize a point he was making; or, god forbid, the few times he stopped you from rushing ahead by resting his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezing. He loomed over you in public, bodily putting himself between you and random strangers, using his height to his advantage when he wanted to herd you in another direction, coaxing you to lay or lean on him whenever you were sleepy either at home or outside.

After realizing that your relationship wasn’t so one-sided, well…it was easier to accept your new routine. Easier to allow yourself to indulge, easier to not feel guilty when Caleb was getting exactly what he seemed to want by looking after you so well.

Which led you to your predicament now.

“...You want me to come with you to a party?” You hold your phone up to your ear with your shoulder, chewing on a fruity twizzler as you circle a word in your book of word searches. It was sanrio themed and Caleb had snagged it for you on one of your little outings two weeks ago. The page you were working on was thirty-three out of sixty and was filled with various little chibis of cinnamoroll. 

“It won’t be that bad. Gideon’s cousin is throwing a bit of a housewarming thing, and he invited me to come. Last week you picked what we did, so technically it is my turn…” He trails off playfully, and you pout because he’s right. You had forced him to stay inside and ordered pizza—you refused to let him go back to his apartment until you had finished all five of the twilight movies. Payback, really, when he forced you to watch all of those boring ass war movies he liked so much.

You roughly blow out a sigh, sliding your pen into the book.

“Is it a party or a…party party?”

“A party party, so as much as I wouldn’t mind you wearing one of my hoodies again,” You flush at the pointedness to his tone, “You should make an effort to wear something a little nicer.”

“Caleb~!” You whine, throwing yourself back across your splayed out futon. The only thing he does is laugh at your expense, and as much as you want to be truly annoyed, you can’t. His voice is too warm and soothing in your ear for you to feel any true irritation.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We’ll stay for an hour or so, and then we can head back to my apartment. You wanted to see it anyway since I moved.”

“I guess so…”

“Just a little bit of human interaction, and then I’m all yours. Doesn’t that sound like a good deal?” His voice is softer now, coaxing almost. Like you’re some little kid that needs to be convinced to eat their veggies. It shouldn’t make you flush so intensely. Nor should it make your mind go fuzzy and cotton-filled, but here you are. Zoning out a bit because of his tone.

“...Yes, it does.” You mumble, blinking to try and erase that sudden fog.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” A fainter voice echoes from his side of the phone and he leans away for a moment to answer. You glance at the clock. 3:47 p.m on a Wednesday. He’s in the middle of his part time shift at the auto shop near his college. ‘He must’ve just been invited if he’s calling me during work hours.’ You finish nibbling on the twizzler in your mouth while you wait, a bit of dread filling your gut as you think about meeting Caleb’s other friends.

You weren’t scared of them, per se. You were just a little—okay, you were a lot introverted. Going outside only seemed like a good time if you were either with Caleb or going on a simple walk. Talking with people has never been something you liked or needed in your life. Too many bad experiences with others—both their fault and yours, depending on the situation—so you mostly keep to yourself. And Caleb’s friends are from college or from the mechanic shop. Places where certain kinds of men reside, and while you won’t just baselessly accuse his friends of being people you won’t get along with, you shied away from interacting regardless. But now…now you didn’t have a choice in the matter. So that meant you had to make at least a decent impression on them, if only to save Caleb some peace of mind.

“Sorry about that, one of the guys had a question about the truck we’re working on.” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your pensive thoughts.

“No worries, you know I don’t mind.” He hums absent-mindedly, before shuffling noises can be heard through your phone speaker.

“What time’s the party?”

“This Thursday night. It officially starts at eight, but people’ll probably start showin’ up at seven-thirty.”

“Oh, alright. I get out at six, if you wanted I could meet you halfway?”

He scoffs. 

“I can just pick you up, it’s no big deal. I’ll just make sure to leave a few hours earlier.” You bite your lip, but you accept his decision. You’ve gotten better at that, you think. Following his lead more without questioning him so much.

“Your vacation starts this weekend, right?” You blink. What does that have to do with anything?

“Mhm?”

“Stay the week with me.”

Your eyes widen and you stare blankly out your window, just barely catching your phone as it slips from underneath your chin. You…you stay in his new apartment with him…for a whole week…? You don’t know whether or not you want to scream in delight or pass out in flustered embarrassment. Just thinking about being alone with him in his space for a whole uninterrupted week sends those familiar tingles down your belly to your cunt. You suck in a breath, cheeks feeling hot as your fingers tremble around your phone. Denial sits on the tip of your tongue because if you’re in close proximity for that long you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing something incredibly idiotic—

“Please? I miss you, and we already don’t see each other enough.” He doesn’t really beg, but that soft, cajoling tone comes back and it has you caving immediately. Because you’re still one clingy bitch and you do actually miss him like crazy whenever you aren’t near him.

You just hope that you can somehow find the strength to keep yourself together the entire week.

“The whole week, huh. Sure, why not?” You say softly, smiling when that gets you a slightly startled intake of breath. Did he really think you weren’t going to say yes?

“You’re carrying all my bags, by the way. All of them.” You state without hesitation, smile curling into a devious grin.

“...How many bags are you planning to bring?” He asks cautiously, and you only giggle in response.

“You little brat.” He sighs out, but there’s nothing reproachful in his tone. You giggle again before you stop, hearing another voice pipe up from Caleb’s side. You’re a little sad to see him go, but he is technically on work time.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No, no it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow night, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, princess.” He murmurs, and you hastily answer him back before the line cuts off. You sigh, bringing the back of your palm to your cheek. You get flustered so easily around him, but you’ve grown to handle it. Somewhat. Kind of. More importantly…

“Do I even have something appropriate enough for a party party?” You wonder to yourself, getting up to shuffle over to your closet. You never needed fancy or ‘nice’ clothes since you were in school, so you highly doubt you have anything on hand that was nice enough. You know Caleb won’t be super picky on the definition of ‘nice’ but…you want to make a good impression.

Ten minutes later you run through your whole closet and you have nothing to really show for it. You found a few hoodies that you’re definitely packing, as well as a couple pairs of fuzzy sweatpants you thought you lost. But nothing in the realm of ‘nice’ that this party required. You sighed a little to yourself, but picked out a week’s worth of clothes and shoved them into a duffel you had stored in the back of your closet. You’d pack the rest of your toiletries and other accessories you needed later. For now, though, you had to make a quick trip down the street. You’re lucky that there’s a relatively nice clothing shop within walking distance.

‘The fucking things I do for that man.’ You smile as you shrug on your jacket and slip on your crocs.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

The soft ‘thump’ of your boots hits the ground rhythmically. You’re pacing a little, trying to get used to the added height the boots give you. While not your first time wearing boots like these, it is your first time wearing them with a skirt. It’s a strangely nice feeling, the gentle tickle of the soft fabric against your thighs, and you can admit you’re kind of obsessed with it. You make one last turn in your boots, almost tripping over a stray snag in your rug before you hastily right yourself.

Stopping in front of the floor length mirror propped against your bathroom door, you give yourself one last once over.

Your long hair flows down your back and chest, the thin braids you did topped off with shimmery white bows, lines of silver chains scattered throughout. Your makeup is simple—black puppy liner, highlighter brushed along your cheekbones and nose, and a thin layer of gloss that makes your lips twinkle a subtle black underneath your lights. Around your neck lies a thick, black choker with a layer of silver chains hooked to it. The real star of the show is your outfit, however. The one that you spent a decent chunk of money getting but one that you’re infinitely proud of.

The black bralette top you’re wearing is thin and stretchy; lined with lace and with a cute skull and bones decal. The top is the slightest bit on the small side, and combined with the sown in padded cups you not only don’t have to wear a bra, but your tits look fucking fantastic. The black skirt you’re wearing has ribbons lining the top like a corset, and cinches your waist in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re suffocating while giving you a nice shape. You paired it with wide-holed fishnet stockings and a pair of calf high, chunky black boots. You adjust the stockings a little, pulling them over the skirt up until they reach high unto your waist. You turn this way and that, cocking your head to the side to review your fit just one more time before Caleb appears. You’re mostly satisfied with it. 

The only thing that you would say kind of ruins it for you, though, would have to be…

‘Maybe I should’ve done the oversized look instead.’ Your mood plummets a little when you notice the layer of pudge slightly poke out from the sides of your skirt, as well as your slightly sagging arms. You cross your arms with an aggravated sigh, looking away from the mirror to ignore the imperfections you can see. You were so satisfied before…where did all that confidence go? ‘Wherever the hell my common sense went, that’s for sure.’ You think to yourself with a snarky tone, before you blow out a deep breath. You still have some time, maybe you could go and grab one of the graphic tees you have?

A knock at your door stops you, and you realize you���ve got no more time left. You sigh, lightly patting your cheeks before making your way to the door. You’re more than a little nervous—you feel a little sick, actually, but you’re trying not to think about that. With no time left, all you can do is grin and bear it.

One last breath and you swing the door open.

Your face gets hot when you realize how handsome Caleb looks—black jeans with rips in them and a grey button up hidden beneath an open dark blazer, a few buttons undone to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbones and the silver chain hanging loose—but what really has you flustered is the look on his face when he realizes what you’re wearing. It’s quiet between you two for a long beat as his gaze slowly travels your body from head to toe, something dark and hot swirling in his eyes. You lightly bite the inside of your lip, fingers gripping onto the edge of your door as you watch the rigid line of his body. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, and feeling the tension grow stronger the longer the quiet persists, you hastily try and break the ice.

“C-come in already, silly. Don’t just stand outside, I told you that you’d be helping me with my bags!” You swiftly turn away from Caleb at the door, blush spreading so fast that you’re dizzy from the rush. The look on his face…you shiver just thinking about it. That wasn’t the kind of look you give your best friend—not even close. You try not to let that stop you from gathering your purse and keys, though, heading towards your futon to pick them up. You bend over slightly, stretching out your arm to snag them from the other half of your bedding.

Except you’re a bit too far from the straps of your bag—a cute little thing in the shape of ghostface that you found in that store yesterday that just spoke to you. You huff, pretending like you don’t feel the intense stare burning holes into your back. You do in fact realize the position you’re in; you in your short and flowy skirt, half bent over your layed out futon, the entirety of your lower half nearly exposed. You feel a slight brush of cool air against the backs of your thighs, and feeling a little bold, you slide a knee up onto the futon. The fabric of the skirt slips higher and you snatch the straps of your bag quickly, blushing even hotter when you realize that you just most likely flashed Caleb behind you.

You aren’t that embarrassed about it, oddly enough. The look in his eyes when he saw you…it wasn’t one you’ve ever seen directed towards yourself before. But you can’t say that you’re upset by it, honestly it was a bit of a confidence booster. You…you don’t know the deeper meanings behind the heat in his gaze; you don’t know if it’s just surface level lust or if he thinks of you the way you think of him…but you are going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

Swallowing thickly, you slip the bag over your shoulder to rest across your chest, turning around with a bright smile.

“Ready!”

~~~~~

Caleb might have…miscalculated a bit.

The party was originally a way for him to segue into asking you to come over. He figured you’d give in easily enough and they’d spend a little time chatting in the corner before he’d whisk you back to his place. While he wasn’t certain what you’d be wearing, he also didn’t think it’d be too wild. That broken heart sweater and a pair of your black ripped jeans maybe. Or those new black cargos and the cropped graphic t-shirt of godzilla you adore so much. Something easy, something comfortable. You were being forced into a social situation you weren’t familiar with, so it’d only make sense.

Except you love proving him wrong when he least expects it.

He watches as your skirt swishes around the backs of your thighs, eyes trailing up the slope of your spine as you two walk towards his car. Thankfully, despite your earlier teasing threat, you only had a duffle bag and a book bag filled with your toiletries and other smaller items you wanted to bring—not that he was really worried about anything being too heavy for him to carry. Even if it was, he’d be way too distracted looking at you to feel any real annoyance.

Your hips sway in an unconscious, but sensual rhythm as you walk in front of him, your wild, dark curls bouncing softly, the thin chains in your hair tinkling ever so softly as they clink against one another. His fingers twitch with the sudden urge to tug at a stray braid swaying from the force of your movements, but he dutifully keeps ahold of your bags. He’s determined to keep his distance. If he really gets his hands on you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go long enough for them to leave. It’s difficult, however, when you keep shooting him these nervous little glances from underneath your eyelashes; almost as if you’re expecting him to do something. As if you want him to do something.

‘Not that I can exactly blame her for that. I wasn’t very subtle.’ He muses to himself. When he first saw how you looked, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. He’d never seen you dressed so…boldly before. So much of your skin was on display, so much of your figure bared to his eyes. It took everything in him to not jump on you, but now wasn’t the time. He could have a little patience. It’d make when he finally takes you apart that much sweeter.

“You cold?” He asks after you rub your arms for the nth time coming down from your apartment. You purse your lips, the light from a nearby streetlight catching the enticing shine of your gloss. He pointedly looks into your eyes, as if that will stop him from imagining what your lips would look like wrapped around his fingers.

“I thought it’d be a little warmer out ‘cuz it’s still summer…” Caleb chuckles, fishing inside of his pocket for the keys to his car. You frown at him, lightly smacking his arm when he laughs again.

“Relax, princess. I’ve got a jacket in my car you can use.” He carefully gauges your expression, smirking a little when a glassy sheen covers your eyes. He expects it to quickly disappear—like it always does whenever he throws that pet name out—but it stays. The frown at your lips slacken into something close to a pout, your cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that spreads to the tips of your ears peeking out from the fall of your hair. You go quiet again, but he leaves you to your thoughts, something forming in his head as he pops open the trunk.

He tosses your bags inside, slamming the back closed a moment later. When he looks up again, you’re poised by the passenger door, shivering slightly as you stare at your reflection in the window. That soft look still lingers in your eyes, and the idea forming inside of his mind solidifies. Caleb calls out to you, and you take a moment to blink before turning your head to face him. He rounds the trunk to the back door of the car, yanking it open and grabbing the jacket left on the back seat. 

“Here.” He holds the black bomber jacket open, watching closely as you shuffle over and turn around. He slides it around you, using the hands on your shoulders to flip you back around once you slip your arms through the sleeves. The thing practically drowns your figure, stopping just below where the skirt ends. You look good in his clothes, good enough that he's sorely tempted to just take you home instead of to the party. He has a slightly different plan—one that he thinks will work out just fine.

Looking into your eyes again, and seeing that hazy almost dreamy look, he gently tucks his fist underneath your chin. Using his other hand he guides you to lean against his car. Slowly, he tilts your chin up, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb underneath the swell of your bottom lip, resting his fist above your head.

It has the effect he assumes it would.

Your breath hitches, that cooling blush of yours returning rapidly, coloring your cheeks and nose a splotchy pink. You…melt into the touch on your chin, wide eyes somehow growing bigger as you look up at him. Your hands reach for the edges of his blazer, fingers curling around the thicker fabric. He smiles, stepping in closer so that he can really tower over you, flattening his palm against the cool metal of his car. You stop breathing when he does and he lightly shakes your chin.

“Where are your manners at, princess? What do you say when someone gives you something?” He lowers the pitch of his voice a bit, softening his tone into something sweet yet chiding. You shiver, pupils expanding until a thin ring of your iris is left. Caleb allows the smile he wears to turn the slightest bit mean, relishing when that gets him a high pitched whine. 

“C’mon, you know the words.” He raises a brow and gives your jaw another shake. You inhale a trembling breath, blinking slowly before you open your mouth.

“...Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles at the sound of your lovely voice whispering out his name. He would bottle that noise, if he could. Drink it down for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. 

“Good girl. You’re welcome to keep that jacket, too. Don’t even have to steal it from me like you do my other stuff.” You only stare at him, lips parted and breaths coming in fast pants. He laughs, slightly mocking as he drags his knuckles up your cheek and down the side of your throat. He allows the contact to last for a few beats, taking in the obvious pleasure on your face, the way your legs shake, how you have to lean against the car to even stay upright. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already like this. With one last gentle tap to your cheek, he finally leans back.

“Let’s go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You’re floating.

Not literally, but you feel as if you’re walking on air. Not even your natural social anxiety is affecting you now, thick into the crowd of Greyson’s family and friends. Caleb had mentioned a housewarming party, but that’s as far as you know. As far as you care to know, sitting primly on Caleb’s lap as he talks with one of his mechanic buddies—a man whose name you immediately forget once you hear it. The conversation doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the other man is drawn off deeper into the crowd in search of something else to drink.

Once the other leaves, Caleb leans his head against yours and looks down at your phone. You're playing a puzzle app, and he quietly watches you play a game of sudoku, occasionally jumping in when you get a little stumped. His hand curls around your waist, absently rubbing one of your skirt’s ribbons in between his fingertips. The other holds onto a red solo cup—the contents you aren’t a hundred percent certain on. He was nice enough to let you take a sip, but you weren’t a fan of the artificially fruity flavor, nor did you like the kind of alcohol hidden underneath it. Wine is more your speed, and after making a face once, Caleb merely laughed and kept the cup to himself.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up sitting on him like this, but you can’t say you mind. It’s nice being cradled close; your back resting in the curve of Caleb’s arm, your legs thrown over his thighs and your head resting on his shoulder. You’re warm—courtesy of Caleb’s jacket hanging off your shoulders—and comfortable. Aside from a few friendly ‘hellos’ by the various friends and acquaintances that stop by your little corner of the living room, no one’s really bothered you and Caleb.

As nice as it is, though, there’s still a worry that’s niggling at the back of your mind. A question of…why. Why did Caleb pull you onto his lap as soon as you two walked in? Why did he touch you like that earlier? Why has he been so intense lately? All of the questions you have float through your mind and it slowly begins to push back that pleasant fog you’ve had since you first walked out of your apartment.

You aren’t stupid. You know that there’s a tension between you two. The kind of tension that leads down a road that you both won’t be able to turn back from, but it’s the why of that tension that’s eating you up inside. Before a few hours ago, you wouldn’t have thought that Caleb was interested in you. But that look combined with his behavior…it’s clear that at the very least he’s attracted to you. But does he want you the way you want him—does he love you the way you love him? You don’t know, and that, you think, is what scares you most.

The fingers on your waist lightly tug at the ribbons in your skirt and you look up at him in question.

“How we feelin’?” 

“M’fine. Comfy.” You pause, biting the inside of your lip to avoid getting gloss on your teeth. Caleb immediately catches your hesitation.

“What else?” 

“...I’m a little…confused, too.” He doesn’t seem shocked at all, merely waiting with a warm expectant look on his face for you to continue. You open and close your mouth, stopping and starting until you gather the courage to finally ask what’s been on your mind.

“What am I to you?” Your question takes him off guard a bit, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks away for a moment, the shock turning into something deeply thoughtful. His gaze swings back to yours after a few long seconds of silence, a burning intensity lightning up the dusky-purple hues of his iris.

“What am I, to you.”

“Caleb, I’m serious.” You frown, feeling a little hurt that he seems to be making fun, but he just shakes his head.

“So am I. What, or more like, who do you see me as, [✦].” The sound of your name startles you, and you begin to understand that he’s deadly serious. 

“Who..?” You trail off, breath hitching when Caleb’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing more, brushing the pad of his thumb underneath your eye as he waits. Your hand grips your phone tightly, a nervous tremble wobbling your bottom lip. Is he asking…does he want you to speak your feelings? You blink rapidly, feeling the familiar itch at the corner of your eyes.

You’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, and if Caleb wasn’t holding you like this, you think you’d run away immediately. ‘But I’ve already chosen to stop hiding from him. I promised myself that.’ You inhale, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, meeting Caleb’s stare resolutely. You can do this—you can explain to him how you really feel.

He’s asking you to, and how could you bear to deny him like this?

“You’re my best friend,” You reach out and lay your hand on the one holding your face. “You’re the most important person in my life. You drive me fucking crazy all the time with your relentess care. I’m basically spoiled because of you, y’know? Can’t even do anything by myself anymore, I need you around me all the time if I want to have any fun. You…you’ve got to know that you’re my entire world at this point, right? You’ve got to know that I—” You choke on the words, tears pooling in your eyes as your force the phrase your heart has been screaming for so long.

“I love you. I love you so much that it literally makes me fucking stupid.” You throw out with a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to try and salvage your makeup.

With every word spilling from your lips, Caleb’s eyes grow brighter and brighter; the smile playing at his mouth wide and baring the straight whites of his teeth. He’s absolutely gorgeous under the dim lighting of the living room you’re in, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s positively beaming with how brightly he shines, and it takes everything in you not to shake apart when he knocks his forehead against yours and that utter joy gets even closer.

“Then you know exactly how I feel about you.” He whispers, his warm breath puffing against your lips. You can barely believe your ears—it feels like a dream come true. For you to be held in his lap, close enough to see the little indigo flecks in his eyes, to count each individual lash on his eyelids, to see the wonder and love and lust in his eyes as he stares at you deeply.

“You–you do?” You know you sound disbelieving, but this moment truly doesn’t feel real to you. 

“That’s so hard to believe, to you? That I’d return your feelings?” 

You struggle to answer, struggle to do anything when the hand on your waist tightens, the one cupping your cheek sliding around to thread through the hairs at the nape of your neck. Caleb doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer, though, his eyes dropping to focus on your parted lips. You flush at the heat in his gaze, swallowing back a groan when his fingers slip higher up your waist, catching on the fishnets and meeting your bare skin.

“I could show you, you know. If you give me a chance.” He murmurs, lightly dragging his nails against your skin. Goosebumps raise along your arms at the thought of him proving his love for you. You…you want that. You want that so much. Something must show on your face because Caleb chuckles, dragging his nose up to your temple to meet your hairline. You feel the soft warmth of his lips against your forehead, an action that makes you shiver.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak as the anticipation rushes through your veins, the spreading warmth of your belly down to the throbbing heat of your cunt.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You barely make it through his apartment door before he pounces on you.

His hands grip your face as he crowds you against the door, lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You moan into his mouth, your arms lacing around his neck. You scratch your nails lightly through his hair and he groans deeply into your mouth. The sound causes your cunt to pulse and you feel yourself leak against the cotton of your panties.

His palms slide down your neck and then down your sides before they travel around to grip your ass. Within the next moment, you're lifted into his arms, and you scramble to throw your legs around his waist as he blindly moves you toward his bed. You trail kisses down his chin to his throat, lightly sucking on the thin skin there. God, it feels like a fantasy to be here in his arms, getting the privilege to mark him up like this.

“Fuck.” He grunts when your teeth dig sharply into the side of his neck, the hands on your ass squeezing roughly before tossing you onto his bed. You’re panting harshly as your eyes travel up his own heaving chest. The lights in his bedroom are dim, and they cast exaggerated shadows against his tall form. As dark as the room is, though, it does nothing to hide the raw desire in his eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Every inch of bare skin revealed makes you even wetter, and you squeeze your thighs together when he lets the shirt drape open. You shiver, biting your lip as Caleb drops to his knees on the bed, the buckle of his belt jingling as he unloops it from his jeans.

You swiftly follow when you realize you’ve just been staring, tossing off your top to reveal your bare tits to the cool room. Hands shaky from adrenaline and the slight chill, you reach for your skirt next, but stop when you’re suddenly yanked forward by your ankle. Gasping, you fall to your back and are pulled closer to Caleb. He easily positions you partly over his lap, legs spread and half folded over. Your entire body feels hot from that easy display of strength, and you whimper when he leans down to mouth against the side of your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

His first sentence ever since you left the party startles you, but you don’t have time to speak when his teeth dig into your skin. All you can do is gasp out, fingers latching onto his shoulders as he licks over the mark before doing the same to another patch of skin.

“How long I’ve wanted to have you under me, spread out and fucking shaking apart.” Your back arches when one of his hands cup your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers while the other hand slides down to unzip the back of your skirt.

“You looked so pretty tonight, you know that? Almost didn’t let you leave ‘cuz you were just too tempting lookin’ like that.” Those words send a bolt of heat through you, and you want to move against him, but you can’t, bent in half and held down by the bulk of his body.

“S’because of me, yeah? Got all dolled up cause you were going out with me?” You nod, helpless to do anything else when he slowly grinds his clothed cock against you. You can feel the hard ridge even through the layer of his jeans and your skirt, and you moan when you realize how fucking big he is.

“Wanted…wanted you to think I was pretty.” You gasp when the hand on your tit pinches your nipple, shaking when his other hand finishes unzipping your skirt.

“I always think you’re gorgeous, princess. But I don’t mind you dressing up for me. Can get you all the pretty little skirts and tops you want if you model ‘em for me. Only for me.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before separating himself slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up when you chase him. But he easily pushes you back down, closing your legs and yanking off the skirt like it personally offended him. He doesn’t even bother taking off your fishnets or your lacy panties after he spreads your legs around his waist, merely pushing them aside enough so he can stick two fingers inside of your cunt.

“F-fuck…Caleb!” You cry out, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you toss your head back. His words combined with the stretch of his fingers makes you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You’ve never had sex before—the only experience you’ve had were the different toys and dildos you have stashed away in your apartment. Other boys never caught your attention, and you were always able to satisfy yourself just fine on your own so you didn’t think you needed the touch of another. But having Caleb’s fingers inside of you now, pistoning in and out was electrifying and you know that it was going to ruin you when you finally feel him inside of you.

The thought has you suddenly desperate for it, and you weakly paw at the bulge in his jeans. He bucks into your hand with a low groan, the pace he sets with his fingers faltering once you get a semi-decent hold on his cock. He returns to his pace soon after stopping though, using his left thumb to rub against your clit as he slides the fingers of his right hand in all the way and curls them. You jolt at the intense feeling, desperation getting stronger as that coil in your belly tightens further and further.

“Give it to me, please, want it so bad, gimmie it now—” You whine, your other hand tugging at the loose end of his shirt while the hand on his bulge clumsily rubs up and down his dick. You blink the half-formed tears out of your eyes, pleading with your face as you desperately try and get him to listen to you. He spits out something too low for you to hear above the squelching noises of your sopping wet cunt, but you soon forget about that when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you just right.

You jolt hard, legs wildly jerking as a white-hot bolt of heat sizzles its way up your spine. The cry that falls from your lips sounds more like a wounded animal, but Caleb’s eyes are dark with satisfaction. He presses that spot inside of you again, rubbing insistently while he does the same to your clit. You can literally feel your brain melt out of your ears from the dual sensations, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his fingers. You’re on the precipice, riding the edge of that peak but you still aren’t quite there yet and it makes even more tears fall from your half lidded eyes out of frustration.

“You close?” But Caleb’s voice was more statement than question, eyes piercing as he watches you start to break apart underneath his hands. You nod anyway, crying out in protest when he slips his finger out. Only to squeal when he lifts you so that you're balancing on your shoulders, your thighs resting around his neck while he buries his face into your cunt.

You can’t even form words when his tongue traces over your clit, his hands placed on the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. He eats you out without any foreplay, going from sucking on your clit to dipping his tongue inside of your hole, trailing nipping kisses to your inner thighs before he’s right back to licking into your cunt while nosing at your clit. It’s so much stimulation—too much stimulation for you as tears drip down your flushed cheeks. You can feel it coming, your orgasm. It’s in the way you clench on his tongue, thighs wrapped so tightly around his neck that you have to be suffocating him. But, if anything, the fervor he eats you out seems to grow, trialing one of his hands from your thigh to lightly trace over your hole. He slips two fingers back inside again, and using his tongue, fucks your dripping slick back into you. Your orgasm crashes into you when he hits that spot again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as white sparks flash across your vision. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, legs spasming around his waist as you finally come around his fingers.

“Mhm, fuck, that’s it. C’mon, let me have it all, princess.” Caleb’s words ride out on a slight laugh, the vibration of his hoarse voice making your cunt clench around his still moving fingers. The intensity of your orgasm flees, but he’s still thrusting in and out of you. Your voice is shrill when he rubs your clit hard, purposely aiming for that little spot inside of you as oversensitivity wracks through your frame.

“C-C-Caleb—!” You can barely get anything past your crying mouth, hands reaching out to tangle in his hair as he continues to overstimulate you. You somehow get even wetter, the sounds he’s causing between your spread legs are absolutely filthy as they echo out into the dark room.

“You’ve got another for me, don’t you. You wanna be my good girl, yeah? Give me another and I’ll give you what you want.” He licks another stripe from your hole to your clit, fingers rubbing that spot inside of you, pulling back to widen, before thrusting back inside and repeating. Through the haze filling your mind, you can hear the order he gives you. And of course, because you are a good girl for him—his good girl who listens to everything he says—you give him exactly what he wants.

You come for the second time, squeezing so tightly around his fingers that he can’t even move them inside of you anymore when you do. Your back arches off the bed at an insane curve, ragged moans and cries erupting from your hoarse throat before you fall limply back to the bed, hands falling to rest at your sides. ‘Did I…just come on command..?’ You feel tired and wrung out, but that burn of arousal doesn’t fade. Even when the feeling on your clit and in your cunt make you squeal from oversensitivity, you’re still soaking wet.

“Did so well for me, princess. So fucking beautiful when you come. You’’l look even prettier when you’re spread out on my cock–mh, fuck.” Caleb groans, slowly retracting his fingers, watching raptly as your cunt gushes out more slick. You whine out something unintelligible, your entire body shivering from the aftershocks of two orgasms in a row. But still, you dutifully let yourself be manhandled, half lidded eyes lazily tracking Caleb as he bends you in half again. Your eyes lock onto the smears of your cum and slick across his mouth as cheeks, something inside of you strangely warm at the sight of him marked by you.

Caleb’s muttering all sorts of filth about you under his breath as your eyes trail down his chin to his jaw, that satisfaction burning brighter when you notice the hickeys you gave him darken. Your attention is captivated by him as he slips his jeans and briefs down just low enough to pull out his cock. You can see the tip of it from how you’re angled, and the sight causes your cunt to clench and unclench at the thought of finally taking it.

“Fuck, look at you. Prettiest fuckin’ pussy and for my eyes only, yeah? No one else has seen you like this, and no one else will, cuz your little cunt is mine, right? Say it.” 

“M-my pussy, s’yours, Caleb. It’s all yours.” You whimper out. Caleb slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, doing it again when you wheeze out a moan. You wiggle your hips as much as you can in your position, wordlessly begging for him to finally fuck into you. He smiles at your desperation, but it’s a far cry from those sweet, gentle smiles he usually gives you. The slant of his smile is mean, his eyebrows rounded out into a condescending expression that makes you gush.

“Need this dick, yeah? Need me to empty that little head of yours—to make that itch go away.” He slaps the tip of his cock against your clit again before trailing it lower, lightly pushing into your hole before slipping it out. He does that a few more times, all with that mean little smile on his face as he watches your desperation turn into more frustrated tears.

“Caleb!” You cry out, tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks. He tsks, leaning over you until the tip of his nose brushes your temple.

“What did I tell you earlier about using your manners?” 

You shiver at the warning in his tone, mouth falling open when he trails gentle kisses down the side of your face until he reaches your lips. This close, you can taste yourself covering the lower half of his face, see the sweat that’s beading on his forehead and wetting his hairline, the wideness of his pupils as they eclipse the natural purple of his iris, the flush to his cheeks as he poises himself over you. You do what you always do in front of Caleb when he asks you for something.

You cave in.

“Please, please, please Caleb fuck me. Need you so bad, need you to make me stupid, please, want you—” You choke as he pushes in, eyes rolling back as the stretch of his overwhelms all of your senses. He’s so big that it feels like an eternity before he bottoms out. And when he does, you can feel the tip bump into something smooth and hard deep inside you. You jerk when he brushes that place, hiccuping when he shifts and hits that point again. Something…different is building up inside you, something that doesn’t quite feel like a regular orgasm. But you don’t have the breath to voice that weirdness out loud, not when you’re stuck staring up at Caleb’s slack, wet mouth as he looms above you.

“Thaaat’s fucking it, fuck—” He cuts himself off with a low moan, large hands pressing down on your thighs as he pulls out a little, then pushes back in. You realize that you’re drooling when Caleb leans down to lick it away from the corner of your mouth, the silver chain bumping against your skin and causing goosebumps to raise along your skin. You chase after his mouth with a little whine—you can taste yourself on him and it makes you clench down on his cock. He shivers, groaning before meeting you for a proper kiss, all the while keeping up his slow and deep thrusts. He puts more weight on your thighs as he kisses you deeper, tongue tangling with yours as you shakily reach up to throw your arms over his shoulders.

His cock hits even deeper than before, and you fall back with a drawn out moan, eyes unseeing as he does it again. It’s hard for you to register anything else when all you can focus on is the feel of his dick hitting that wall over and over and over again. Your mouth stays wide open as he slowly but harshly pounds into you, hiccuping breaths exiting you every time he bottoms out. You feel like you’re dying—the heat damn near suffocating you as it spreads like wildfire from your lower belly throughout the rest of your body. It’s too much too soon but you can’t help but love it—love how Caleb feels inside you, love how wild he looks above you, eyes half lidded and mouth parted from the slew of filth he’s spitting at you.

“So fucking tight, princess. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans out, turning his head to lay biting kisses against one of your calves. Your mouth only drops open wider, hiccuping again when he slides his other hand over to play with your clit. It takes one, two, three rubs before you’re clenching down again. White noise fills the space between your ears as you come for the third time on his cock, except you feel something else come out of you.

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting all over him, the wetness slipping down your thighs and his dick to wet the sheets below. You don’t realize much of anything past that point. Not the fact that Caleb jerks his hips forward as he finally came. Not the fact that he bit down hard on your calf as he did so. Not the fact that his other hand kept rubbing your clit, causing even more liquid to squirt out of you. 

Nothing else mattered in your mind at that moment. You were floating, weightless and thoughtless in a fog so dense that you couldn’t see a thing. It was freeing. It was so, so fucking peaceful that you almost didn’t want to leave. But there was someone coaxing you back with sweet kisses and large, warm hands. So you slowly but surely woke from that fog, blinking your puffy eyes open to see Caleb staring down at you in slight concern.

“Back with me, princess.” You nod, but it feels like your head weighs about a hundred pounds when you do. 

“Mhm.” You hum when it’s clear that he’s waiting for a verbal answer. The smile you get is worth the slight discomfort of using your voice, though.

“Here, drink some of this water and we can go to sleep.” You blink again as he helps you sit up, holding onto a glass of lukewarm water with a purple bendy straw. You drink as much water as you can, and are slightly surprised when you end up finishing the whole glass. Caleb laughs a little at your bewilderment, but soon he’s bundling you up in his arms.

You two lay back down and get comfortable on clean sheets—something you don’t think too much of at the moment. You lean into Caleb’s heat as he spoons you from behind, sighing when he slides one arm underneath your head. That arm locks around your neck in a chokehold, while his other limb securely wraps around your waist, hand resting low on your stomach.

“Goodnight, princess.”

“G’night.” You whisper, pressing one last sleepy kiss against the bicep against your cheek before you allow darkness to encroach on your vision.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a tweet by @Nicole_Cliffe "Nicole Cliffe" (verified) which says "If you normalized something (non-awful) because your family did it and then realized it was not, in fact, normal or remotely common, I would love to hear about it."

@momofink "Morgan 5️⃣1️⃣ Finkelstein" replies "the villain in my bedtime stories was always the President of the Homeowner's Association and I was sooooo confused when no one else had heard of him".]

[Tags by you-held-the-door which say #when I was kid my dad and I would play that game at the playground where the kid stays up on the climbing structure #and the adult stays on the ground to chase the kid #usually the adult is like a monster or a lava monster or something #but my dad always pretended to be george bush]

[Tags which say #my dad never let me roll down the windshield when we were on highways #because and I quote "the car is going so fast that the wind can topple cars" #and I just never questioned it until years later #turns out he just didn't like the noise

#also another thing: #you know that game grown ups do with young children where they chase you around #and go "oh you're so cute I could eat you up! I'm going to eat ya!" that kind of thing? #well when my parents did that I used to go "no you won't, you guys love me. also I'm you're only child." #then my mom would go really silent and fake being contrite and tell me that #actually no I had an older sibling that they cannibalized. #I only survived because I was a cute baby and they waited too long and I got too big to fit in the pot anymore. #and it would make me really angry because I knew she was lying but I had no way to prove it #and mom thought it was the funniest thing ever #anyway I only found out in high school when I was trying for a "lol so relatable" type of joke with my friends that apparently #having a long-running joke that your parents had a dead first child that they cannibalized isn't a common thing that other families also do #mmari rambles]

[Tags which say #my family has a phrase for when someone eats most of something and leaves less than a serving of it left #(usually done to avoid having to throw it away. like leaving less than a cup of milk or just crumbs in a bag of chips) #we call it 'buddyfucking. bc ur fucking ur buddy over #apparently it came from my dad's time in the army #ANYWAYS. i quickly learned when i went to college that when most people hear ‘alright who buddyfucked me' #they do NOT think i am asking who left one square of toilet paper on the roll without changing it]

[drunktuesdays]

MR FRODO!!! DONT GO WHERE I CANT FOLLOW!!!!!

i'm no happier about this than you are. do u understand how long i've escaped hockey.... i mean, i'm not an animal. i've sampled their wares. i've perused their markets. and on cold nights when there was nothing left in my "marked for later" tab, i've gone hunting on their land. but i've never bothered to learn enough to picture them. do you know i've read almost every good fic in the sid/geno tag and only i found out what geno looks only like two years ago? i've been STRONG. except i guess that time sashayed ALMOST got me into that one retired guy who i thought was so fucking hot but no one ever wrote fic or posted about him so it didn't go anywhere.

anyway what i'm saying to you is that i don't like what's happening for me. unfortunately, grace, it's hard times over here. i'm almost done my biannual reread of the 2 million word fic where harry potter becomes part phoenix. i'm BORED. I AM BORED!!!!! and when i scroll and i see my friend talking about a man absolutely humiliating himself because he's desperately jealous that he wasn't featured in an instagram post? i'm supposed to SCROLL PAST two boys giggling and whispering because they've never experienced this feeling before and don't think anyone else has?? HELLO. i'm interested. i'M INTERESTED. i don't wanna watch hockey and i swear to god if anyone tries to teach me ONE thing about the game i will SCREAM!!!! but i also want very very very badly to read about them frotting until it kind of hurts and then secretively thinking like, "did we invent doing that.....no one else can possibly have figured that out....."

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.7): the cut - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

part 6- part 7 - part 8

unlike common belief, the four never hated the pogues. well not all of them at least, only if they had a reason to. people just assumed they hated pogues because people assumed they were the asshole type of kook, and sure they weren’t the type to always have their nice face on, but they weren’t mean; not with intention. they knew not to make enemies unless they had a reason to.

so even if people called it “weird” when sarah started talking to john b, none of them really minded.

the next day;

rafe pulls up outside your house, headlights cutting through the dim evening glow. you climb into the backseat, kicking your feet up onto the console as sarah turns around in the passenger seat, already smirking.

“you took forever.”

“cry about it,” you shoot back.

rafe doesn’t react like usual. just exhales through his nose, tapping his fingers against the wheel before reversing out of the driveway. the ride to the cut is mostly sarah filling the silence, rambling about john b’s latest scheme. you half-listen, half-watch rafe through the mirror. he’s not brooding exactly, just off.

by the time you pull up, the pogues are already there. john b’s messing with something on the hms pogue, kiara, cleo and pope sit on the dock talking, and jj—jj is the first to notice you. he tips his beer slightly, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

“well, look what the tide dragged in,” he drawls, eyes flicking between the three of you before landing on you.

you nod your head as an acknowledgement,

“yn” you say simply, stepping onto the dock.

jj cocks his eyebrow in confusion. "yn? thought it was roni."

you chuckle, "looks like someone did their research," looking at him.

jj smirks, "couldn't help my self," shrugging. "you drink?” he asks, handing you a open bottle.

you take the beer he hands you without breaking eye contact. “obviously.”

jj lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. “alright then. let’s see if you can keep up.”

at first, you aren’t sure how the night will go, but somehow, you keep finding yourself next to jj. it’s not intentional—at least, not at first—but it just works. he’s sarcastic, reckless, always running his mouth, and somehow, it’s like talking to a male version of yourself.

at one point, jj leans in, grinning. “you’re actually kinda perfect.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he nods. “like, if i wasn’t me, i’d be you. which is honestly kinda terrifying.”

you smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “so what i’m hearing is—you’re obsessed with me.”

jj laughs, shaking his head. “might be.” then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, he hands you his phone. “here. before i forget.”

you take it, glancing at the screen. he already has a new contact pulled up.

“oh, so you just assume i want your number?”

jj smirks. “you don’t?”

you roll your eyes but type it in anyway, handing the phone back. he glances at the screen, then back at you. “snap too?”

“god, you’re relentless,” you mutter, grabbing the phone again.

meanwhile, rafe lingers on the outskirts of the group. he’s there, but not really. drinking, laughing when necessary, but never fully sinking in. you notice. you clock the way he stands apart, how he never fully relaxes. but you don’t press it.

not yet.

later, after everything has settled, you get a noitification from being added to a group chat full of unknown numbers except jj and sarah. assuming its the members of today, you send a text.

you toss your phone onto the bed, something unsettled lingering in your chest. your mind kept jumping back to rafe's words, 'not used to hanging out with other people.'

the fuck was that supposed to mean?

tags under the cut!!

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecamerobswifeyy

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Dreams of Love - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Made it a Hughie and Annie baby. Named it Joel because I’m hilarious and Annie would sooner eat glass than name her son Billy.

Chapter Title from She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary/Warnings: Request from my love @deansbbyx ! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, Dad Ben, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?)

“Where the hell did Annie get a baby from.”

You sigh, giving Ben a flat look. “Her vagina, Benjamin. That’s where most of them pop out, you know.” 

Ben scowls, shooting you a glare that really only makes your whole body warm and soft. “Shut the fuck up, brat, you know what I meant-“

“I don’t think I did, Pretty Boy. I think you need to start explaining where you think babies come from-“

You’re cut off as Ben pulls you right to his chest, dropping his brow to yours with a smirk.

“You know damn well that I know where babies come from, Sunshine.” He drawls, and he’s really warm, and he smells so good, and his muscles are flexing around you, and his keeping his mouth just far enough away that you can’t kiss him but God you want to-

Ben-

You need something, darling? Need me to fuck you dumb right here, fill you up with my cock and remind you how fucking good we are at baby making? 

You swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from his darkened, lust-blown eyes. He’s starving for you, and you can feel it everywhere—you can’t even tell where your own thirst for him begins and his hunger for you ends—but you cannot have sex right now. There just isn’t the time, and it’s not like Ben’s going anywhere, but fuck, he’s so handsome and he’ll taste like strawberries and maple syrup from breakfast, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your thigh-

“MM’s going to be here soon,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of Ben’s shirt to give your fingers something to do that isn’t wrapping around Ben’s dick. “And Ryan needs to go to school. I can drive him if you-“

Ben rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your brow before rising back up to his full height. “You’re not fucking driving. I’ll take Ryan, you get the Campbell baby.”

“But-“

He drawls your name, raising his brows. “You really fucking think MM is going to leave a fucking baby with me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You raise your chin slightly, holding Ben’s vaguely amused gaze. “He doesn’t hate you anymore-“

“Doesn’t matter if he still wanted to cut my fucking dick off or not, you’re the only one he’s leaving it with.”

 “It had a name, Ben.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning your chin on his chest. “And I’m sure MM would leave Joel with you if I ask him to.”

“But you’re not going to ask,” Ben says your name with a shrug, half picking you off the floor and cradling your head with one hand. “I’m bringing Ryan to school, you’re taking the baby. That’s it.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What if I promise you a blowjob to trade?”

He snorts, the radiance in his body bursting along your ribs. I’d get that blowjob anyway. 

What if I promise breeding kink sex?

His eyes narrow. You think you’re real fucking smart.

I do. You smile at him, playing with the hair on his beard as you sway slightly in his arms. You say I am all the time. You call me clever, and beautiful, and perfect. And if you like me now, imagine how amazing I’d be when you fucked me good enough for to put a baby-

You win. Ben’s hand tightens on your waist, his eyes flash, his hunger almost explodes through his body, and it’s all the warning you get before his mouth is crashing down to yours. Your silent words are cut off with a deep growl from Ben’s chest as he walks you backwards to the kitchen counter, his hand tugging at your hair to deepen the kiss. Your lips part with a moan that Ben swallows, and you’re scratching at his back as he shoves a knee between your legs, and fuck, he’s so good-

Such a needy fucking brat. He mutters in your head, and you can only grind against him. You are fucking perfect, you’re a goddamn miracle, but that smart fucking mouth, Ben hums against your lips, starting to kiss a wet, sloppy line down your neck. It’s a fucking marvel, Sunshine. Going to fucking kill me, how goddamn beautiful you are, all fucking dumb and pretty when I touch you-

Fuck- You whine when he starts to suck on that one spot near your throat, and he chuckles against your skin. God, Ben-

Words, darling, use that smart mouth to beg-

Please, Benjamin, you ass-

You squeak as his hand pins you against his knee, and he draws back, scanning over your open, desperate expression with a wide smirk. 

“Hi, Sunshine.” He drawls, tipping your chin back with a careful hand, and you might be drooling. 

He’s so fucking handsome. It’s really not fair. This life looks painfully good on him, where all his love is still hot and bloody and focused in your body, but the resolve to hold you is just to hold you. There are no threats that you’d need protection from, but Ben’s still shielding you just a little all the time because that’s what he does. He loves and cares about you so violently you’d be worried he offers you too much, but all he’s ever asked for in return is this. Is you, already a little dazed from his hand dragging circles on the skin of your hips, your mouth hanging open as you take in his messy hair and relaxed expression. Everything in him glows when he presses his thumb on your lower lip and you moan, and when he leaves a small, almost chaste kiss on the space between your eyes the fire under your skin starts to push up, and you’re smoking, and he’s just grinning at you like a dick-

“You’re so fucking perfect, beautiful.” He mutters, and you don’t know why he’s not just fucking you. “When I get you alone again, you’re going to cum on my hands, then my face, then my cock when I fill you up. You’re going to feel me for fucking days, darling, and everyone will know that I always fuck you properly when you sit down at a meeting and fucking whine like a goddamn brat.”

You have a small, breathless speech in your head that’s mostly a plea of you are alone, right now, and it’s not possible for Ben to make you feel it for days, but God, you’d like to see him try, but you don’t get the chance to say it. You stare at Ben’s smug grin for a long second, taking steady breaths to try and regain just a little bit of control over your brain—which right now seems to only remember how to say Benjamin, please—and Ryan walks into the kitchen with his backpack and nervous, quick words.

“Ben, I lost my notebook-“ Ryan’s eyes widen at the scene before him—Ben still holding you on his knee, your whole body slack under his touch and very obvious, slightly glowing smoke rising from your skin—and he freezes in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’ll just go wait in the car-“

“Stay here, kid.” Ben helps you down, pressing one last, gentle kiss to your brow before turning his attention to Ryan. “Car’s not started yet, and your notebook’s under the couch.”

Ryan frowns. “How did it-“

“Shoved it there last night.” Ben grunts. His voice is really deep. His arm is still around you. He smells like pine and coffee and that earthy, salty thing that’s just Ben-

“Oh.” Ryan nods slowly. “Was it- I’m-“

“Don’t fucking apologize. It wasn’t in the way, I just had to do all the damn baby proofing-“

That snaps you out of it.

“You were baby proofing?”

Ben frowns down at you, something slightly sore wrapping over his skin. “Of course I was fucking baby proofing, I’m not going to let the damn thing just fuck around the house and die-“

You let just a little bit of your own, raw and infinite love leak into Ben’s body, rising up to press a kiss right over his beard and humming against his skin. Thank you, Benjamin. That was sweet.

I am not fucking sweet-

Of course not, Pretty Boy. What was I thinking. Your smile is wide and unrestrained as you lean back, holding Ben’s face between your hands. I love you.

I love you too, Sunshine. He rolls his eyes, dragging one of your hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll get your notebook, Ryan. Go put on your shoes.”

“Okay.” Ryan bounces on his feet, looking between you and Ben with an open, anxious expression. “Is- Are Hughie and Annie bringing Joey here?”

“They’re on their honeymoon,” you explain, Ben scowls, and you shoot him a flat look. “Which someone is being a grumpy asshole about.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.” Ben grumbles, guiding you out of the kitchen. “We’ve been married for ten goddamn month and haven’t gone on our honeymoon. Why the hell do those pussies get to go first.”

“They’re not going first, Ben, they just actually planned their wedding instead of doing it spontaneously in a field-“

Ben rolls his eyes. “If we do that proper wedding shit, will you finally take some time off so I can fuck you on a beach?”

You flush, whacking Ben’s chest as Ryan looks around absent-mindedly, pretending not to hear. Benjamin-

The kid is used to it, Sunshine-

He shouldn’t be- 

He’s fine. I think he’s got bigger fucking problems than me loving you like you deserve-

But-

“Ryan.” Ben grunts, tucking you a little further into his side and ignoring your death glare. He’s lucky you can’t burn his face off anymore. “You got an issue with me telling her I’m going to fuck her?”

“I, um- no?” Ryan shrugs, frowning at the air. “I guess I tune it out now, just because you do it kind of a lot and I- I dunno, I just expect it. Sorry-“

“Don’t say sorry, kid. You did good.” Ben shoots you a smug look, bright, hot pride inflating in his chest. You’re going to strangle him, then make out with his stupid, handsome, cocky face. “Shoes.”

Ryan nods and wanders to the door, and Ben looks so fucking proud of himself.

Benjamin William- 

You barely get out your shared last name before Ben’s squeezing your hips, pulling you up into a long, open-mouth kiss that makes you moan loud and soft, your body molding right into his. Never should’ve told you my middle name, brat. 

Could be worse. You mumble, smiling against his lips. I could tell Butcher. 

He pulls back with narrowed eyes. You won’t.

Test me, Benjamin-

You tell Butcher, I’ll… Ben trails off between your heads, and you can feel a wired spike in his heart when he realizes he doesn’t have any believable threats anymore. 

You’ll what? You raise your brows, giving him an overly sweet pout. Fuck me dumb? Make me beg? Throw me around until I’m a whiny, horny mess for your cock-

He slams back into you, hauling your body into his arms without even a stuttered breath and carrying you to the couch. 

Christ on a fucking cross, Ben mutters your name between your heads, lowering himself to his knees before you as he kisses you back into the cushions. You’re so fucking perfect.

His tone is entirely reverent, so sincere it might kill you, and the pure devotion and fervor of his love in your body is enough to drive you mad.

Ben- His hand trails up your thigh, and you’d be embarrassed by your loud moan if it didn’t make Ben groan into your mouth, everything in him sparking and flaring. Fuck-

Later, Sunshine. He tips your chin back slightly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth right before he pulls away. “Stay here until I get home.”

You hum, taking his hand from your cheek and twisting his wedding ring around his finger with a small smile. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He chuckles, leaning into one last, soft kiss before rising to his feet. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, darling. Tell me when MM drops off the kid.”

Tell you on the what, Benjamin?

I’m not fucking saying it.

Please?

You give him your sweetest smile, squeezing your hand on his knee and leaning into his touch, and he groans.

Smart fucking brat. He mutters, moving his hand back to tangle in your hair and tugging slightly, just enough to make your head tip back. Tell me on the Ben’o’phone, and I’ll fuck your mouth and cunt real good when I get home.

Deal. Thank you.

Don’t. He grumbles between your heads, but even as his hand leaves yours you can feel the power of his love, the rough affection that’s settled deeply and comfortably into his chest. “You think we’ve got all the shit-“

“MM’s going to bring most of it. And,” you nod to the floor, and Ben turns with a frown. “I bought a play pen. We can keep it after. For later. When I get that promised fucking.”

You see Ben’s hands curl into fists, he stands a little taller, and fuck, you’re right at eye level with his bulge but Ryan really does need to go to school-

“I can’t believe Annie and Hughie got a fucking baby before we did.” He mutters, glaring at the play pen. “It’s a goddamn travesty-“

“Travesty.” You hum, looking up at him with a wide, teasing smile. “Big word, Pretty Boy-“

“Shut up.” 

Ben turns back to you, taking your face between big, warm hands and scanning over your features with a narrowed gaze. You can feel something wound tightly in his chest—slightly molding and almost painful—so you grab his wrists to keep him against you, and give him your widest, realest smile. The smile that’s for Ben, and Ben only.

It’s always really just Ben.

You know I fucking adore you. He says between your heads, his voice low and rough. Love you more than the goddamn universe, Sunshine, you’re my whole goddamn life. You know that.

I think you’ve mentioned it. You hum, leaning into his touch. And I love you too, you massive cunt, so say what the fuck you mean.

Ben lets out a dry snort as you drop your voice into a mocking impression of him on those last words, shaking his head slightly. Christ, darling. You’re fucking-

Perfect, I’m aware. Please, Ben-

You don’t need to ever do anything you fucking hate with me. He grunts, his body suddenly made only of fervorish, protective stone. I got you and Ryan, and that can be my world for the rest of my goddamn life, and I’d be good. If that caped fucking pussy knocked the idea of a baby out of your head forever, I’m not going to-

Ben. You cut him off with soft but firm words, holding his gaze. We don’t lie to each other.

Of course we fucking don’t-

So when I say that one day soon, I want to do this, you nod to the play pen. With you, believe me. Please.

His jaw twitches, and the wrathful care in his body doesn’t vanish, but it never does. It only moves back peacefully into your bones as Ben slowly nods. You’re sure.

Positive. Go bring Ryan to school before I do.

Ben rolls his eyes, leans down to kiss the top of your head, and half-stomps out the door.

He’ll be back soon. And—though he’ll never get you to say it aloud—you’ll wait right here until he does. Where everything still smells like pine, and you’re molded into the couch right where Ben put you, and you can smile at the play pen like a dumbass until the doorbell rings. 

You know it MM before you open it, because Ben just walks in wherever he wants—including into offices he definitely should not be walking into and meetings you’re supposed to be focusing on—and everyone in the neighborhood seems to know that’s Soldier Boy and the Anomaly’s house, so after the Homeowners Association incident, nobody really bothers you that much. 

It would be lonely if you didn’t already have a Ben, a Ryan, a Butcher—friend was too generous for the asshole, but he was unfortunately an indisputable part of your life—and friends.

Because when you open the door, it is MM on the other side, and he looks tire and pissed but still happy to see you. You can feel it—during your brief, tight hug—that there’s a heavy exhaustion under his skin and over his muscles, but there’s nothing but relieved affection for you to be here. 

“This kid,” MM mutters as you pull apart. “Has fucking lungs.”

You smile, following him out to the still-running car. “I know, I’ve heard them. Annie told me to buy Ryan earplugs.”

“Smart.” MM leans into the car door, pulling out the car seat and probably saying more things, but you don’t really hear them because that’s a baby. A baby baby. A barely popped, wispy haired baby that looks so much like a shrunken down version of Hughie it’s a little disturbing.

And you’ve met him before. You were there when Annie had her pre-mature birth, doing what Ben had called more work than the damn nurses and stopping Annie’s bleeding with a press of your hand to her legs a brief rush of pain between your thighs. 

MM had told you Ben had doubled over with a roar in the lobby, and you’d seen the evidence of it when you’d rejoined him and there was a large hole in the wall. But Annie had been okay, Hughie had given you a tight hug that could’ve left a bruise if that was something your body could do, and the baby had been healthy. 

You hadn’t wanted to hold him, nerves building in your throat about what feeling the emotions of a baby could even do. Annie had told you that it would be fine, and half-shoved Joey into your arms.

And now—just like then—you can feel nothing but soft, humming peace from tiny Joel Campbell in your arms. There’s no bloodied pain or freezing fear, nothing rotten in his chest or throat or head. He’s just a little fuzzy because you’re not Annie, but it’s a brief distress that fades when you start to hum and the whole world grows perfectly warm.

They’re here. Your words are soft down your connection to Ben, and he flares slightly in your chest.

Good. Ryan’s off, I’ll be back soon. Don’t fucking move.

You smile to yourself, and MM must realize that you’ve moved yourself into a trance, because he doesn’t try to talk to you until you’re settled back inside with Joey carefully in your arms, and all of Annie’s baby supplies are piled near the door.

“You think your old motherfucker is ready for this?”

You snort. Ben’s so ready you’re probably going to spend the next month after this trying to pry him off of you. “He is. He baby-proofed the house.”

MM grunts, scanning around the living room. “I’m guessing the asshole wants one?”

You might be smiling like an idiot. “You have no idea.”

“I think I can live with that.” MM mutters, giving you an odd look. “And- If I’m out of line tell me to shut it and I will, but can you even do that?”

You sigh, trailing one finger softly over Joey’s cheek. There’s something in that silent, happy hum you feel from him that really seems like Annie.

You wonder if your baby would look like Ben and feel like you, or look like you and feel like Ben. 

“I can if I want.” You say, shaking your head at MM’s look of confusion. “Don’t ask.”

He raises his hands in agreement, nodding to Joey in your arms. “Do you? Want one?”

“I do.” You whisper. “I always did, before, and then Home-“ You swallow. You still don’t like saying his name. He doesn’t deserve for his name to be said, not where Joey can hear it. “Then he, he did everything, and it didn’t seem like a thing I could ever do. But now...”

You trail off, and MM nods.

“What changed?”

You look up with a soft smile. “Do you really want me to say it?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “That old asshole must have a fucking genie who owes him one or something.”

You only hum, because it’s not really useful to explain that Ben doesn’t need a genie. He’s just Ben, and he’s everything, and you love him. “Maybe. I think he’s going to be amazing at this.”

“Of course you do.” MM mutters. “Where the hell is he?”

“Dropping Ryan at school.” You say, lowering your voice to whisper to Joey. “He’s bringing us back chocolate.”

“How the hell do you know-“

“He always brings me back something. And he’s that way,” you wave a vague hand over your shoulder, where you can sense Ben moving around miles away. “So he’s getting chocolate.”

When you look up, MM’s gaping slightly. “He always brings you something?”

“Of course he does. He thinks it’s an apology for leaving me.”

“Leaving- Motherfucker.” MM sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you two idiots can’t die without each other. You’re already so goddamn annoying.”

You can’t disagree with that. Not when—a few hours after MM leaves—Ben pushes through the door with a box of those fancy fucking chocolates you love, Sunshine, and lowers to his knees before you, staring at Joey in your arms.

“Hughie makes a tiny fucking baby.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Don’t bully the infant, Ben-“

“I’m not bullying him, I’m bullying his father. Hughie’s a fucking adult, he’ll live.” Ben rises up to kiss your brow. “You look real damn good with a baby in your arms, darling.”

You smile at him, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. Keep it in your pants, old man.

For the damn baby I will, but I promised you a proper fucking, Ben drawls your name between your heads, shooting you a wink. Going to have you begging for my cum in your mouth, on your tits, in that pretty fucking pussy-

Benjamin. You give him a stern look, even as the deep sound of his voice in your mind, the sight of him grinning at you, and the hunger in his body settle deep in your stomach. Not when I’m actively holding the child.

He rolls his eyes, but drops at your side on the couch and kisses your temple. Fine.

Thank you. You lean your head on Ben’s shoulder, letting him tuck you against his side, his hand tracing slow patterns on your arm as you start to hum, soothing Joey fully to sleep.

And you could’ve stayed like this for a lifetime. Ben’s content—you can feel it, feel how deeply and easily settled he is at your side—this is so simply peaceful, and you have no desire to disturb the static, colorful feeling you get from Joey, so you could’ve died here.

But Joey shits his pants, because that’s what babies do.

And You really don’t want to move. 

MM left some things by the door, can you please-

You don’t need to finish the sentence before Ben’s moving, marching to the hall to grab the diapers and pushing the coffee table to your knees when he returns. You change Joey there—it’s a flat surface, you cleaned it that morning, and Ben had laid out a towel—before settling back onto the couch, and that’s most of the day. Joey’s hungry, Ben grabs the bottle and you feed him. Joey’s never cold—you and Ben are walking furnaces—but he seems a little uncomfortable, so Ben grabs a blanket Annie left and you swaddle. Joey shits himself again, and Ben marches upstairs to run a sink bath.

He hangs over your shoulder every second. And there are no grumbled suggestions or thoughts about Joey, only normal conversations about work and TV and Ryan and dinner. Nothing feels different, and the solid, pious care and love you feel from Ben is no stronger than normal. It’s aimed right at your heart and golden and warm in your body, but that’s just Ben. That’s how he loves you. 

The only change is something softer—lining over his head and lungs—that glows when you catch him glancing at Joey in your arms. When you settle back on the couch with a sleepy, clean baby, and Ben pulls you half into his lap, resting his chin on the top of your head. You waste the afternoon like this. Watching TV with Ben everywhere around you, Joey asleep in your arms and nothing really that worrying in the world.

When your phone rings, you almost don’t want to answer it. But it’s Butcher, and if you ignore him he’ll come to your house, so you sigh and pick up the call.

“Butcher,” you whisper, and Ben’s arms tighten around your body. “Please tell me this is important.”

“You wound me.” Butcher’s voice is filled with mock offense through the speaker as he says your name. “I ain’t ever bothered you for no reason-“

“One time you called me to say Ben lost his pen.”

“And he was tearin’ up the bloody office, so I needed you to work your fuckin’ sex magic on the Gov before he hurt ‘imself. Always got a reason, love, you should well fuckin’ know that.”

I can’t hurt myself. Ben grumbles in your ear, obviously eavesdropping. Only person who can hurt me is you-

Romantic, my love. Shut up. “Butcher, if this is a work thing you have to call MM, Ben and I both have the day off-“

“‘Fraid MM ain’t able to help with this one, love. I got Secretary Campbell ‘ere, and he ain’t leavin’ until he speaks to Mr. and Mrs. American Dream.”

“Stop calling us that, it doesn’t even make sense.” You sigh, glancing at Joey in your arms. “What does he want?”

Apparently, Singer’s Defense Secretary is trying to get you and Ben to donate some DNA again. And you’d send Ben to deal with him, but you’re pretty sure that would end with a dead Campbell and another year half on the lam for you. So you sigh, tell Butcher you’ll be there soon, and hang up.

Ben mutters your name, keeping you steady in his lap. “I can fucking handle this-“

“No, Ben, it’s okay.” You lean back on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “You watch Joey, and I’ll pick up Ryan on my way back.”

“You shouldn’t fucking drive-“

“I’ll go slow. And be careful-“

Ben scoffs. “You’re never fucking careful-“

“Yes, I am. I will be. Just take Joey-“

“No, I’ll fucking deal with Singer’s lapdog, and you’ll keep the baby-“

“Benjamin.” You snap, and he shuts his mouth with a glower. There’s something sore over his whole body, but it’s rooted in his hands. Itching and heavy and tense, tight around his throat-

You frown, tilting your head at him, and softening your voice between your heads.

Are you okay?

I-

And remember I can feel you, Ben. You raise your brows, shifting in his lap to fully face him. Are you worried about the baby?

I’m not fucking worried, he grunts your name, hands tightening on your body. I don’t want to you leave, Sunshine, is that a goddamn crime-

No. You kiss him, quick and sweet, and rise from his hold. But I do have to go. I’ll put Joey in the travel crib, and you can Ben’o’phone me if you need help.

Or you could fucking stay-

You’ll be fine, my love. I’ll be back soon.

——————

Ben wasn’t watching TV. It was on, in the background, but he couldn’t goddamn focus on it. 

There was a fucking baby in the room. It wasn’t bigger than his forearm, it kept making small baby sounds, and if Ben looked away from the crib for one goddamn second he was pretty fucking certain something would go wrong. The ceiling would fall and Ben wouldn’t be quick enough to throw his body over it. He would be quick enough, but he wouldn’t be careful and he’d crush the baby. The baby would shit, and he’d have to change the diaper. It would start throwing lightning bolts like its mother, and Ben would have to figure out what the fuck to do. It would be hungry, and Ben didn’t have tits. 

The ceiling would not fall. This whole house had been supe-proofed, because all of them still had nightmares that set off their powers, when Ryan and Ben it could—according to Her—cause permanent structural damage, and Ben needed to be able to fuck Her however he pleased without worrying about everything breaking around them.

Ben would not crush the baby. He wasn’t some weak fucking pussy who couldn’t control his strength after damn near 80 years.

If the baby took another shit, Ben could change a diaper. He wouldn��t fucking like it, but it was just shit and piss. He’d been covered in guts and blood and brains, shit and piss was nothing. Even if that thing took some of the biggest shits Ben had seen in his very long life.

According to Her and Frenchie, mainstreamed V wasn’t hereditary. It didn’t fundamentally change the users DNA or some shit, so Annie and Hughie’s baby would always just be a normal person. Ben wasn’t really sure, because somewhere in the conversation someone had said what if they had a baby and pointed to Her and Ben, and he’d gotten distracted. 

If it got hungry, She’d shown Ben how formula worked, and he’d figure it out. He’d do whatever the hell he needed to in order to prove to Her that they could have a baby. If they had a baby, Ben would fucking kill it.

Not the baby. He’d kill taking care of a baby. He’d feed and change and tend to it—just like he did with Her and Ryan—and it would be fucking disgusting and boring as shit, but he’d goddamn do it if he could have a baby. 

And he didn’t know exactly what the hell had changed in forty years that men were expected to change diapers, but he’d change a million diapers for Her. He’d throw himself into the Sun and bury himself alive for Her. He’d watch something called How to Train You Dragon for Her. He’d fucking cook for Her—she sure as hell couldn’t do it herself, and Ben would be damned if he let his wife starve—and he’d read a fucking book just to make Her smile. 

Changing a diaper—if that made Her happy as well—was fucking nothing.

So when Joey started wailing—about twenty minutes after She’d left—Ben was fucking ready. He’d been studying all the shit She’d been doing, and this kid wasn’t going to know what the fuck hit him. Annie and Hughie would get him back in better condition, and Ben would be a goddamn hero.

But the baby didn’t want food. And its diaper was clean. 

The only thing that seemed to make it stop was when Ben held it. Cradled it in his arms and rocked it back and forth, sitting back on the couch because every time he tried to put the little fucker down, it would start screaming again. 

Ben didn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a real baby. He’d seen this one in the hospital after Annie popped it, and a few times after, but he’d never really held it. Annie had offered once, and he’d taken it, but it hadn’t been like this. Where Joey was curled into Ben’s chest and Annie wasn’t bouncing on her feet to take it back. 

This was peaceful. Quiet. The TV humming in the background and Ben just fucking holding a baby. A baby that was happy to be in his arms, and didn’t fit perfectly because it wasn’t Ben’s baby, but was still a damn baby.

Happy. With him holding it.

Something became clear in his head. It had never been fogged or covered, but it was sharp now. Right in reach and touchable, more than just a fantasy or daydream. 

Ben fucking wanted this. And he could really fucking have it. He’d seen Her look at Joey, and She’d sworn she’d want this as well. She’d said She’d want it with Ben.

And he could see it. Ben could almost physically fucking see a baby that had Her eyes and hair and whole perfect face, and would grab Ben’s nose and fucking break it. Any kid She and Ben had would be a supe—as far as Ben understood it—and they would be the strongest one yet. Ryan would help them learn to control the strength, and he’d never fucking worry about being loved less, because as far as the baby would know, Ryan would be their damn brother.

It would be smart like Her and Ryan. The kid would be talking in three months—or something, Ben didn’t know when babies usually started talking—and do all the fucking school shit, then chose to do good things because they would be Her kid, and everything She did and touched became fucking good.

And She’d be the best goddamn mother. She already was, with Ryan, and this would just be more. More annoying parents for Her to threaten, another person for Her to teach shit to, and another piece of evidence for Her to have that Ben couldn’t love Her more if he tried. Another way for Ben to show Her that She, Ryan, and now the baby were the only things in the whole damn universe that mattered.

He could see it. Her padding around the house in Ben’s shirt, holding their baby in one arm and a phone in the other. Hissing incredibly graphic threats at a congressman while smiling at the baby, sometimes dropping Her voice to coo to the kid when She was between calls.

“You know.” She said, swaying slightly in place as she mumbled to the child. Their child. That was Ben’s fucking child. “If that asshole doesn’t listen to Mommy, she’s going to let Daddy yell at them. And Daddy can be scary.”

Ben frowned, but he couldn’t quite move or speak, She didn’t see him there, and when She kept talking any protests of him being ‘scary’ vanished into the air.

“I know that crazy to you, because Daddy isn’t scary.” She set Her phone down on the counter, devoting Her entire attention to the infant in her arms. “He’s just big and grumpy. Like an ancient teddy bear.”

The kid made a soft, babbling sound, and Ben really wanted to hear it again. Especially as a tiny fist shot up, wrapped around Her finger, and she smiled as it babbled again.

“You’re right, he can be a bit of an asshole. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

Ben could suddenly move, and he was walking forwards. Moving to Her side and pressing a kiss to Her brow. “Smart fucking mouth, brat.”

“You love it.” She hummed, leaning into him as She kept speaking to the baby. “He loves it.”

Ben did love it. He loved how fucking happy She was, how easy this felt, and how—when Ryan called from upstairs for homework help—She passed the baby into Ben’s arms without a thought and walked away. 

And that was their fucking kid. And it had sharp eyes that were scanning over Ben’s face a little hazily, realizing that Ben wasn’t Her, and then almost squealing as it realized that he was Ben.

It reached up for him, and fucking Christ, the thing was happy to see him. It was making cute fucking sounds and squeezing his finger, and not a single fucking pussy would ever be allowed to hurt it. Ben would do whatever the hell it took to keep the kid this peaceful, to make it always this happy to see him, to make it so that She and Ryan would have the family they deserved, and Ben could just fucking love them for the rest of goddamn time-

“Ben. Wake up.” A gentle, perfect hand trailed over his face, and he’d fallen asleep. 

He blinked his eyes open to find Her standing between his knees above him, and soft smile playing on Her lips.

“Good dream?”

Ben caught Her hand in his own, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles as he blinked away a little more sleep. “You don’t have a fucking clue.”

She hummed, glancing at Joey, still in his arms. “I think he likes you.”

“He likes that I’m warm-“

“The blanket was warm.” She shrugs. “He likes you.”

Ben grunted. He wouldn’t win this argument, and he knew better than to try. “Where’s Ryan?”

“In his room.” She said, dropping at Ben’s side and smiling at Joey. “We’ve been home for a few hours.”

“A few- You’ve been home hours-“

“Voice down, Benjamin.” She mumbled, leaning Her head against his arm. “And you both looked peaceful. I liked it.”

Ben smirked. Were you watching me sleep, Sunshine-

Yes, I was. And you watch me sleep all the fucking time, Pretty Boy, so shut it.

He chuckled, kissing the side of Her head, and they stayed there until Ryan shuffled down the stairs, stopping behind the couch and staring at Joey in Ben’s arms.

“He’s really small.” Ryan whispered, and Ben coughed to cover his laugh.

“He’s a baby, Ry.” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as She smiled up at Ryan. “We were all that small once.”

“I was never this small.” Ben muttered. “I was a big fucking baby, and you probably were as well, kid.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and She scoffed.

“How big were you, Benjamin.” She narrowed Her eyes. And don’t say you’re still big now.

Don’t need to say it, Sunshine, you know better than damn anyone that I’m big. Ben winked at Her, smirking at her pretty flush as he continued.  “I don’t fucking remember exactly, brat, it was a hundred goddamn years ago-“

She snorted. “So you might have been this tiny-“

“I fucking wasn’t-“

“You could’ve been.” She stuck Her tongue out at him, light dancing in Her eyes. “We’ll never know.”

Ben rolled his eyes, brat, and pulled Her into a long, slow kiss with his free hand, going until She was sighing into his mouth and slumping over his body-

She pushed off Ben’s chest, and something was radiant and zealous in his chest when She leaned back to look at Ryan, and there was an almost drunken smile on Her face.

“Do you need help with more homework-“

“No,” Ryan shook his head, glancing back to Joey. “I- I’m just hungry, but if you’re busy-“

Ben’s brow furrowed. “We look fucking busy, kid?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then it’s dinner.” Ben grunted Her name. “You want ravioli.”

She gave him a wide, toothy smile, Her voice oddly soft. “Yes, please.”

“Ryan-“

“That sounds good.” Ryan nodded slowly, taking a nervous step back. “I- I’ll go wait in my room- And-“

Ben frowned. “You finished your homework?”

Ryan nodded again, and Ben moved to his feet with Joey still carefully in his arms. 

“Stay in here, kid. It’ll be easier to get you.”

“No- I- It’s okay-“

“Ryan?” She twisted fully in Her seat, a gentle frown on Her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just- I don’t-“ Ryan swallowed, bowing his head slightly. “Joey looks really fragile. I don’t- What if I break him?”

She tensed at Ben’s side, and Ben could fucking feel Her aching distress. Feel the presence of Her around his head tightening and spinning, see the sadness all over Her pretty face—almost perfectly matching Ryan’s—and Ben needed to fucking fix this.

“Hold the baby.” 

Ben walked around the couch to put Joey into Ryan’s arms, and the kid just fucking gaped at him.

“But- But I could-“

“You won’t.” Ben snapped, and Ryan shook his head.

“He’s so small, Ben.” He whispered. “And I- I could hurt him.”

“When was the last time you broke something.”

Ryan blinked at him. “What?”

“The last thing you broke on accident, kid.” Ben raised his brows. “When did you break it.”

“I-“ Ryan glanced at Her, but she was just leaning over the back of the couch, tapping Her fingers on the pillows as she watched. “I don’t remember-“

“November.” Ben grunted. “You freaked out during a team dinner and snapped Butcher’s table in half. You’ve had a fuck ton of freak-outs since then, holding shit a lot more delicate than a table, and not a single damn thing has broken. Hold the baby.”

Ryan still didn’t move, only staring between Ben and Joey, and Ben let out a long breath.

“Ryan, do you really fucking think I’d hand you a damn baby if I thought you’d hurt it.”

“N- No-“

“You trust me, kid?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Of course I do-“

“Take the fucking baby.”

Ryan finally got it, and took Joey from Ben’s arms with slow, careful hands.

Nothing exploded. The sky didn’t fall. 

And Ryan smiled, his voice filled with awe. “He looks like Hughie.”

Ben smirked. “He really fucking does. Poor kid.”

She frowned from the couch. “Benjamin-“

“Sunshine.” Ben mocked Her tone as he bent down, picking Her up with a grin and laughing when she squeaked. “You’re hungry, beautiful.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him, whacking his chest. “Don’t fucking do that, you asshole-“

I didn’t do a fucking thing. Ben drawled Her name between their heads, his eyes never leaving Her’s as he moved them out of the room. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us, kid.”

“Okay!” Ryan called after them. “I’ll stay with Joey!”

All the mock anger in Her eyes dissolved in a second, Ben leaned down to kiss Her—long and sloppy and heavy—as he set Her on the counter, and when he pulled away, Her smile was fucking perfect.

She was hanging off of Ben’s arm the entire time he made dinner, smiling at Ben like he’d handed Her the fucking moon when it was only damn pasta.

What-

I love you, Benjamin. She whispered between their minds. So much.

Ben kissed Her brow, tracing his thumb over Her cheekbone. Love you too, Sunshine.

You’re really good at this. With Ryan and Joey.

He shrugged. I’ll be even fucking better with Ryan and our kid.

And that was the damn truth. Because Ben could finish dinner and help Her serve, and he could eat around the table with Her and Ryan, but when the baby cried it wasn’t his baby. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Joey—he was adorable, seemed alright for a baby, and Ben would never fucking tell Her, but while She’d been gone Joey had been chewing toothlessly on Ben’s finger and it had been the cutest thing he’d seen in his fucking life—but Ben wanted the kid to be theirs. 

He wanted to set up the TV while She and Ryan cleared the plates, let Ryan chose what they were watching for family movie, and have Her sitting on Ben’s lap with their kid in Her arms. Ben wanted to lean over Her shoulder and see sharp eyes blinking up at him, to hear the baby make a bubbly little noise and for it to sound like Her voice.

He wanted Ryan to help put his sibling to bed before shuffling off to his own room, and he wanted to be standing here with Her over the crib—wrapping his arms around Her stomach and swaying back and forth in the dark—as they looked at their baby.

Joey looked so fucking peaceful in there, and Ben could see it again. A future where She’d be just like this, and the baby was really fucking theirs. It’s in a sturdier, bomb-proof crib built by Frenchie, and reaching for Her—because who fucking wouldn’t—and when it made a noise, Ben’s whole fucking world would get a little bigger.

I want one. Ben muttered between their heads, pressing a kiss to the side of Her head, and She hummed.

I know, my love. She smiled up at him, and Ben was going to fucking explode. In the dim light—with sleepy eyes and raw fucking love written all over Her perfect features—She’s was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I’m sure I can find one for you.

End Note: Finally gave Ben a middle name. I don’t care what kripke and any future spinoffs say. That’s his middle name now, because it’s the funniest possible option.

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