I GOT HOWLLLLLLLLLLLLL AWOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That neurodivergent / executive dysfunction thing where you are *about* to start a task. You’re not doing it yet...but you’re so so close. almost there. Just need a little bit more . “⚡️⚡️🔌” that’s all. THEN you’ll be ready. you can do it, soon. Just need a little bit more juice...

a little bit...

any minute now

...almost...ready...

come on holy fuck...

just a little bit more.....

lost in the moss

doing adhd online test and seeing through the questions and options : I don't think I do that / feel that way, solely because ion kno- i kennot rember. I forgor

Me now speed running studying for college entrance exam a week before because my executive dysfunction put my ass in dysfunction and now for some reasons those questions make so much sense : Ah yes. I agree

The Council of Elder Tubbies

anyone call zafira's name in the tone of shakira shakira?

For those of you who are into moths, here are all the types of moths you will see.

Kitty Cat Couch Patterns Are Here! Get The Original Patterns From Annie’s, Accept No Substitutions! 👉 https://buff.ly/3t8NdNe

THE GREAT ASS-SMACKING WAR

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (fluff)

having an ass slapping contest with best friend caleb

wc: 1.4k

The lock of the bathroom in your shared apartment clicked and your body reacted immediately, paddling down the hall to get your nail polish remover from what Caleb had decided to turn into his personal spa for a solid hour.

As you entered, you had to waddle all the hot steam away from your face with one hand, maintaining a hold on an apple juice-box with the other.

Caleb stood by the sink, wrapping a towel around his hips, water dripping from his bangs onto his wide chest as he did so. He jolted slightly at your sudden presence slipping behind him but paid you no further attention - used to you mingling in his business and him in yours.

You rummaged through the cabinet until you pocketed the bottle and began to make your way back out of the bathroom, chewing on the straw, but then-

You paused.

There he was.

Caleb was bent over, reaching for something under the sink, towel sagging so dangerously low that the temptation got the better of you. Without even processing it, you jabbed a freezing cold finger straight down his partially exposed ass crack. 

The reaction was instant.

Caleb let out a squirrel yelp of such high pitch that no man his size should be capable of. His whole body jerked as if you tazed him, spine snapping back and arching as the towel slipped from his fingers and fell with a soft thud.

“Wha- PIPS- WHA- OH MY GOD!” he shrieked, face flushed, hands flailing around as he fumbled for anything to cover himself up.

You stood there unmoved, watching the 6'2" wall of muscle panic like a Victorian lady who just flashed an ankle on the street.

And just when he managed to clutch the towel with both hands, crouching away from you to preserve at least some of his dignity, you raised one hand-

SMACK.

The slap echoed.

He froze. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Dignity? What dignity. Shattered… Completely.

…

…

He stared at you like you had just smacked his soul instead of his naked ass.

You raised the juice to your lips, still not breaking eye contact with him in the utter silence.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

“Ah~,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Whore.”

And you escaped the room at the speed of light.

“KISS MY ASS!”

“Gladly!” you screamed back at him from the hall.

“Freak!”

“Certified!”

On that beautiful blooming spring day, Thursday the 7th of March, 'The Great Ass-Smacking War' began.

Somehow, it became a truth universally acknowledged, that landing a bare-cheeked one counted double but also that the battlefield was restricted solely to the premises of the apartment complex; the elevator, stairwells, garage, rooftop, lobby, and other semi-public areas, all included.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 2: The Rooftop. He led me here. Lured me out under false pretense of stargazing and a truce. I believed him. “He wouldn't,” I thought. He did. “For yesterday,” he hissed at me. I have a red imprint now. A crow made eye contact with me. It knew…

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 16: The Elevator. I hit the button. She hit me. A clean strike. I fear we have entered a point of no return.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 51: The Stairwell. I took the stairs to avoid him. He was already there, waiting for me. Mid-step. It was a full palm one - sent me back up three steps and made me see a spirit. I can still hear his demonic cackle.

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 183: The Lobby. I managed to retreat before retaliation. Civilians were alerted. A toddler next to her screamed too. One passerby asked, “Sir, that’s your girlfriend?” To which I replied, “Not anymore.” Victory: Absolute.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 243: The Garbage Chute. His hands were full - a defenceless state. He moaned. “Biodegradable,” I said. * The garbage man high-fived me.

It’s been a long day at uni and you just stumbled into the apartment, heavy bags dropping to the floor, back hurting, stomach grumbling, you name it.

But the apartment… dead silent. It was unusual for Caleb to not be blasting music in the kitchen, let alone not calling out to you the moment you came back - taking your jacket and bags from you like the housewife he prided himself to be. 

“Caleb?” you called out, hanging up the keys.

No response.

You took off your shoes and placed them on their spot right next to Caleb’s. He had to be in the apartment - all of his pairs were in place, not a single one missing.

“Gege?”

…

“Clownboy?”

…

“Cilantro?”

You furrowed your brows, cringing at whatever the fuck just left your own lips.

Your coat slid down your shoulders and as you freed yourself from it, it brushed right below your ass, sending a shiver down your bare legs.

It all clicked.

Your mini skirt. Caleb had pestered you about how short it was just this morning and you were in the lead after scoring in the garbage chute.

“Oh fuck off, Caleb!” you yelled out, backing into a wall, ass flush against the cool surface like it was a question of life and death. “This isn’t fucking funny! I’m tired, alright?!”

Silence.

You started shuffling sideways along the hallway, eyes darting all over the place. Every doorway was a potential trap - he could be anywhere.

“I swear to god, if you jump me, I’m shoving your Millennium Falcon down the toilet!”

A floorboard creaked behind you.

You whipped around.

Nothing there. 

Another creak but closer. Then behind you. That dickhead was playing with you, applying pressure all over the floors with his evol.

If you could just get to the bathroom... Lock yourself in there and take a warm shower. Relax a little. Change into some comfy sweats...

You kept dragging your ass along the walls. Almost there. The bathroom’s door knob came within reach surprisingly easily. It was now just across the hall. What was he playing at? Maybe he was napping this whole time? Could you have miscounted the shoes?

And just as you peeled away from the wall, reaching for the door, it flew open.

You screamed.

Caleb burst out like a line-backer. He tackled you - one thick arm snaked around your waist, yanking you off the floor, the whole world turning upside down. There was no escaping his grasp now. Your legs wiggled in the air and your head hung by his knees, hair dragging across the floor.

That left one thing exposed - the entirety of your ass, right there, right next to his smug face.

“BEHOLD!” he howled, “THE GODS OF WAR HAVE CHOSEN ME AS THEIR CHAMPION TODAY!”

You shrieked, “CALEB! NO- LET ME GO, YOU ABSOLUTE MENA-"

SMACK.

You gasped.

“You chose this path for yourself!” he hissed, eyes wild. “Right here, in this sanctuary!”

SMACK.

“I WILL SHIT IN YOUR PROTEIN POWDER!”

SMACK.

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS!” he screamed back, dodging your wild kicks, “I’M ENDING IT! HERE AND NOW!”

SMACK-SMACK.

You kicked and flailed and cursed, but it was too late; the scales had tipped.

A final thunder-smack echoed through the hall.

You gasped. Mouth agape. Eyes bloodshot, brimming with tears. That wasn’t just a slap. That was centuries of ass-smacking tradition coursing through his palm.

Caleb dropped you like a sack of potatoes onto the floor, breathing heavily, triumphant grin etched into his red face, while you lay there. Betrayed. Violated. Spiritually wrecked and left in complete ruins.

You rolled onto your back with a groan.

Then, still gasping for air, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an apple juice box. Looking down at you sprawled on the floor, he caught the straw between his lips.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

He sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know what this tastes like?”

You twitched on the floor.

“Tastes like justice.”

He crouched down next to you, poking your cheek like a toddler checking if a cockroach is dead.

“You good?”

“My ancestors were watching this shitshow.”

He patted your head. "Bet they're still clapping."

And just as he rose to leave, you summoned the last speck of strength you had left in your broken soul, dragging your phone out.

You opened the contacts list.

“Okay,” you huffed, propping yourself up with one shaking arm, pressing the phone to your ear. “You think this is over?”

Beeeeepppp

He turned, mid-strut. “Uh, yeah?”

Beeeeepppp

Beeeeepppp- “Yes, kitten~?”

You smirked. “Let’s see how you do against three and a bird.”

tag list for my beloved: @cordidy, @midiplier