ITS 33 MINUTES LONG??? SODJKDFKNFKGM
33 MINS OF RAMBLING SJBDJDNFKMF
AAAAHHHHHHHH
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ITS 33 MINUTES LONG??? SODJKDFKNFKGM
33 MINS OF RAMBLING SJBDJDNFKMF
AAAAHHHHHHHH
NSFW Davey yes it’s that time again
Something in David switching on when you’re being a brat and bite his lip after he leaned in for a “hello” kiss. The next thing you know you’re hoisted over his shoulder and whisked away to closed doors.
David tracing his lips down your body, giving your soft flesh a gentle nibble every now and then and leaving marks to show that you’re his and no one else’s. The smirk he has as he leans back and admires his work has heat running to your core.
David spreading your legs apart with his strong, rough hands on your thighs. He teases you, nuzzling his nose on the plush of your thigh so close to the apex before giving it another little bite. The more you squirm under his touch the more he’s tempted to tease, blowing hot air onto your wetness and watching you moan at the feeling, desperate for anything to get you off.
David holding you up so you’re pretty much upside down on the bed, his face buried in between your legs as he sucks and laps at your juices, your legs wrapped around his head as you pull him closer. He growls into your heat, the taste making him drunk on pleasure.
David pounding you into the mattress, his chest flush against your back and his hands caging you on both sides of your head. There’s nowhere to run, not that you’d want to anyway. Each thrust is amplified by the sound of wet skin slapping. His heavy set balls slap right at your core with every movement of his hips as he thrusts into you. He muffles his own moans by biting down on your shoulder and neck, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
YESSS LAWDDDDDDDD
we’ve been deprived of filthy david fics
PLEASE send 🙏
Honey hates seeing Guy in pain. Every cough that has him wincing feels like their heart is being wrung and stabbed.
As usual, he was talking and making jokes, but the gravelly voice and the way he’d have to stop every few moments for water is so uncharacteristic of him. Honey hates it. They’d take all his pain and discomfort and amplify it tenfold if they could.
As much as they’d like to smile when he’s making the tenth vine reference of the day, they can’t ignore the ache in their heart. They know he’s only talking to try and fake normalcy to ease Honey’s worries, but it just makes them feel more guilt in how he’s tolerating pain for them.
Somewhere along the way, Honey stopped listening.
And of course, Guy noticed.
A gentle hand to their cheek snapped them out of their spiralling thoughts. His thumb brushed under their eyes, catching the tears that were forming.
Tears?
Honey cursed at themself. Why were they like this. It should be them worrying about Guy. Why are they making him worried?
They averted their gaze in shame, pretending they just wanted to nuzzle his palm (which they did).
“Honey.” Guy’s voice was almost gone, and again, Honey’s heart broke.
“Look at me, please.”
They couldn’t say no, not when he asked so sincerely.
Their gaze finally met his, and Guy smiled, whispering a barely audible “there you are”.
“I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Honey nodded, tear falling down their cheek.
“You feel guilty over me talking right?”
Once again, they nodded.
“Oh, Honey.” He smiled. “Always so sweet to me.” He leaned in to kiss their cheek, right where their tear fell.
“I promise I’m only talking because I want to, and I’m not pushing myself to make things seem normal to comfort you. And I know you’re not trying to make this about yourself either and that you feel guilty over that too.
You think deep. And sometimes you get stuck down there and think yourself into a spiral.
But I’m here to pull you out of it.
I’ll be okay, Honey. You’re already doing more than enough being here with me. I love you.” He nuzzled their nose with his, resting his forehead against theirs.
“Just stay with me, please? Don’t trap yourself up here.” Guy gave their forehead a little tap.
“I’ll feel better if I see you rolling your eyes and pretending you hate the buffet of references I’m dishing out here.” His goofy grin was contagious, and Honey couldn’t help their small smile.
“There we are. There’s that smile.”
Guy’s eyes softened.
“I love you.”
Honey kissed the back of his hand, intertwining their fingers.
“I love you too.”
David insists he’s not old. You insist the evidence says otherwise. And unfortunately for him, the evidence usually sounds like his knees cracking every time he stands up.
One morning you’re both getting ready, and David bends down to pull on his socks before immediately grimacing at the loud pop from his knee.
You look over slowly.
“…Oh my god.”
He sighs. “Don’t.”
“That sounded prehistoric.”
“It was one crack.”
“You’re deteriorating.”
He glares at you while sitting on the edge of the bed, sock half on.
“I’m thirty-four.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s not old.”
You walk over, barely holding back a grin. “Okay grandpa, let me help before you throw your back out.”
“Angel.”
But he’s already smiling despite himself.
And somehow, after that day, it becomes a thing.
Not every morning.
Just the ones where he’s especially tired, or sore after the gym, or moving slower because he’s been working too much.
You’ll walk into the bedroom and find him sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing a hand over his knee.
And immediately… “Oh, your joints are acting up again?”
He rolls his eyes every single time.
“You are deeply annoying.”
“Mhm. Foot.”
He stares at you.
You wiggle your fingers impatiently.
After a second, he finally lifts his foot toward you with a long-suffering sigh.
“This is humiliating.”
“You love me.”
“That’s unrelated.”
You snort and crouch in front of him, sliding the sock properly over his foot.
“You know,” you say conversationally, “most elderly people are supposed to stretch regularly.”
“I’m not elderly.”
“You made a noise getting out of bed yesterday.”
“So did you.”
“Mine was emotional exhaustion.”
He laughs quietly at that, watching you pull the sock up carefully.
There’s something domestic about it that he secretly loves.
You between his knees, muttering insults while taking care of him anyway.
You finish one foot and immediately hold your hand out.
“Other one.”
“This feels like abuse.”
“You’re lucky I don’t put you in compression socks.”
“Angel.”
You grin wickedly. “A nice orthopedic shoe perhaps?”
He catches your wrist lightly before you can move away, tugging you closer until you’re standing between his legs.
“You done?” he asks, amused.
“No. I still need to schedule your retirement home tour.”
He shakes his head, smiling despite himself.
Then his hands slide around your waist.
“You know,” he murmurs, looking up at you, “normal people don’t bully the person they’re helping.”
“I’m keeping you humble.”
“You’re a menace”
“And thriving. Unlike your knees.”
He laughs properly then, head tipping back slightly.
“There he is,” you say smugly. “See? Good for your circulation.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But your socks are on.”
He glances down at them.
“…They are.”
“Exactly.”
You start to pull away, but his grip tightens slightly around your waist.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
Your expression softens immediately.
Because beneath all the teasing, you know what this really is, love in tiny routines.
So you lean down and kiss his forehead gently.
“You’re welcome, old man.”
He groans.
“You ruin every nice moment.”
You grin.
“I love you too”
His hands pull you closer instantly, forehead resting against your stomach.
“I love you more”
gabe was definitely like dr abbot from the pitt and you cant convince me otherwise
The front door closes with a heavier sound than usual.
Not angry.
Just tired.
You glance up from the couch immediately.
David rarely announces when he’s had a bad day. Usually you have to piece it together from the way he moves, the tension in his shoulders, how quiet he gets.
Tonight?
You know instantly.
He walks into the living room looking exhausted down to the bone. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up unevenly, jaw tight from holding himself together all day.
His eyes find you immediately though.
And the second they do, some of that tension cracks.
“Hey,” you say softly.
He exhales slowly like just hearing your voice helps.
“Hi, angel.”
You set your book aside fully now, watching him carefully. “Long day?”
He nods once.
Then stands there for a second like he’s debating something internally.
You wait patiently.
Finally, quieter than usual…“…Can I have cuddles?”
Your heart practically folds in on itself.
Because David never asks for things.
Not directly.
Not unless he really needs them.
Your expression softens instantly. “C’mere.”
That’s all the permission he needs.
He crosses the room immediately and practically sinks onto the couch with you, big arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against him. Or maybe pulls himself against you.
It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.
You barely have time to settle before his face disappears into your neck and he exhales deeply, like he’s finally allowed to stop holding himself upright.
“Oh,” he mutters quietly.
You smile, sliding your fingers into his hair. “That bad?”
“Mm.”
His voice is muffled against your skin.
You feel the full weight of him relax into you slowly, piece by piece. The tension in his shoulders eases under your hands. His grip around you tightens slightly.
“Everyone needed something today,” he murmurs after a moment. “Nobody knew what they were doing. Phones wouldn’t stop ringing. Meetings ran over.”
You hum sympathetically, rubbing slow circles into his back.
“And now?”
“Now I’m here.”
Something about the way he says it makes your chest ache.
You tilt your head slightly so your cheek rests against his hair.
“You did good today,” you whisper.
He goes still for a second.
Then his arms tighten around you again.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
He lets out a quiet breath through his nose, almost a laugh, almost emotional.
You know this version of him.
The one that only comes out when he’s exhausted enough to stop guarding himself so carefully.
“You smell nice,” he murmurs suddenly.
You grin softly. “Thank you.”
“Warm too.”
“That’s generally how people work.”
“Smartass.”
You laugh quietly, and he finally lifts his head enough to look at you.
He looks tired. Soft around the edges. Less composed than usual.
And strangely younger.
Your hand brushes lightly over his cheek. “You wanna lie down properly?”
He shakes his head immediately.
“No. Here.”
“On top of me?”
“Yes.”
You snort softly. “Very clingy today.”
“Don’t care.”
That makes you laugh harder.
But you shift anyway, opening your arms wider.
Instantly, he settles fully against you, head on your chest, one leg tangled with yours, like he’s trying to get as close as physically possible.
“There,” he murmurs, already sounding half-asleep.
You hold him carefully, fingers scratching lightly through his hair.
“Better?”
“So much.”
Silence settles after that.
Comfortable. Warm.
His breathing slows gradually while you hold him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his back.
Then, very quietly, “Thanks for loving me when I’m like this.”
Your expression softens immediately.
“David.”
He hums sleepily.
“I love you all the time.”
You feel the faintest smile against your skin.
“Good,” he murmurs.
And within minutes, the man who spent all day carrying everyone else is asleep in your arms, finally letting someone carry him instead.
Hc that early David used to make up reasons to see Angel (that were not "because I wanted to see you")
Sometimes it's "I have a new recipe I want you to taste test."
Other times it's, "God knows your apartment is a mess. The least I can do is make it liveable for humans again."
But as time went on, he started being more honest.
The first time he said "I... I want to see you." over the phone, Angel thought something was wrong. But something in them told them not to make a fuss out of it, so they replied with an "ok" and went to his apartment, heart beating out of their chest.
But when David opened the door, he seemed... shy. His face was the same gruff expression, but the tips of his ears were dusted with pink, giving him away.
Angel let it sink in. He's really opening up to them.
"...what are you doing? Come i-oof!"
His words were interrupted as Angel jumped into his arms, face colliding with his chest. Their arms wrapped tight around his waist.
"Angel?"
Angel looked up, resting their chin against his chest, smile warm and genuine - the kind of smile that had David's core bursting with fireworks.
"I love you."
David opened his mouth to say a characteristic sarcastic remark, but something about it felt different. He stopped himself, nervous at this rare moment of vulnerability, but surprisingly, it didn't feel scary.
Not anymore.
"I love you too." He smiled, leaning down to kiss their forehead.
good god this is so good
David notices it before he even fully processes it.
The room is dim when he walks in, the low lamp casting a soft glow across the bed and then his eyes land on you.
And he stops.
You’re already under the covers, propped slightly against the pillows, wearing one of his shirts, far too big on you and his boxers. The sleeves fall past your hands, the collar slipping just enough at your shoulder to make it… distracting.
Comfortable. Soft.
Completely his.
“Angel,” he says quietly.
You glance up, a little shy at the way he’s staring. “Hi.”
He doesn’t move for a second.
Just takes you in.
There’s something about it that gets him every time , not because it’s revealing, but because it’s you in his things. Waiting for him. Comfortable enough to make yourself at home in everything that belongs to him.
“…You do this on purpose,” he murmurs finally, stepping closer.
You frown slightly. “Do what?”
“Wear my clothes like that.”
You glance down at yourself, then back up. “They’re comfy.”
“Mm.”
He reaches the edge of the bed, one hand coming to rest lightly on your ankle under the covers, thumb brushing slow, absent circles.
“You look too good in them,” he says quietly.
You feel your face warm a little, shifting slightly under his gaze. “It’s just a shirt.”
“It’s not just a shirt.”
There’s no teasing in his voice now.
Just something low. Fond. A little undone.
You tuck your hands into the sleeves, suddenly aware of how closely he’s looking at you.
“You’re staring,” you mumble.
“I know.”
He doesn’t stop.
Instead, he climbs onto the bed, moving toward you until he’s close enough that his presence fills the space entirely. One hand comes up, brushing gently along your arm, fingers catching slightly in the oversized fabric.
“I come home,” he says, voice softer now, “and you’re in our bed, wearing my clothes, waiting for me.”
Your heart stutters slightly.
“I wasn’t waiting,” you lie weakly.
He raises an eyebrow.
You crack immediately. “…Okay, maybe a little.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough that his forehead brushes yours.
“I like it,” he admits.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His hand slides gently to your waist, pulling you a little closer without effort.
“Feels like you’re mine,” he adds, not possessive in a harsh way just certain. Grounded.
You soften instantly, leaning into him.
“I am yours.”
That makes something in his expression shift.
Warmer. Softer.
He presses a slow kiss to your temple, then your cheek, lingering just slightly longer than usual.
“You always look good,” he murmurs. “But this… this is my favourite.”
You smile shyly, hiding your face briefly against his shoulder.
“Because it’s your clothes?”
“Because it’s you,” he corrects.
His arms wrap around you properly then, pulling you down into the bed with him, tucking you against his chest like he always does.
And even after the lights go out, his hand stays resting at your waist like he’s still thinking about it.
NSFW Davey thoughts warning 🥴
Sinking down into David’s huge cock inch by inch, watching his face melt into sheer bliss as he feels you around him 😩
His hands hold your hips in place as he fills you to the brim, eyes watching carefully as you adjust to his size
He nuzzles your neck as your breath hitches when he twitches inside
“Breathe, baby.” He whispers against your ear, desperately trying to control his own pleasure - your comfort is always his priority.
After a few moments, you clench around him, eliciting a growl from the man. He nips your jaw, voice low as he warns you, “you’re gonna pay for that”, and thrusts up, right at that spot that has you seeing stars
GOOD GAWDDDDDD
You are a thief.
A very specific kind of thief.
David discovered this early on in your relationship, that you have absolutely no interest in your own plate when his exists.
The first time it happened, he’d been halfway through lifting a forkful of food to his mouth when it vanished.
Just-
Gone.
You’d leaned over casually, plucked it straight off his fork with your mouth, and continued the conversation like nothing happened.
David had sat there staring at the now empty fork.
“…Did you just steal that?”
You had shrugged. “Maybe.”
From that day on it became routine.
At restaurants.
At home.
Doesn’t matter.
If David is eating, you are somehow involved.
Tonight is no different.
You’re both sitting at the kitchen island while he finishes cooking dinner. You’re talking about something unimportant while he plates everything.
You get your own plate.
He gets his.
He sits down beside you and takes the first bite.
Or tries to.
The fork barely makes it halfway to his mouth before you lean over and steal it.
He doesn’t even react.
Doesn’t pause.
Doesn’t complain.
Just slowly lowers the now empty fork and calmly cuts another bite.
You chew happily.
“That was good,” you say.
David glances at you.
“…You didn’t even try yours.”
You look down at your plate like you just remembered it exists.
“Oh yeah.”
But instead of taking a bite from your own food, you immediately reach over again.
David quietly moves the fork away midair.
Your mouth closes on nothing.
You blink at him.
“Rude.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“You have an entire plate.”
“But yours tastes better.”
“It’s the same food.”
“That’s not the point.”
He exhales slowly like a man who has been through this battle far too many times.
Which he has.
“Angel,” he says calmly, “eat your dinner.”
You nod obediently.
“Okay.”
Five seconds pass.
Then.
You reach for his fork again.
Except this time, David smoothly pivots his hand away and brings the bite to your mouth instead.
You blink.
“…Oh.”
“Open,” he says.
You stare at him for a second.
Then immediately comply.
He places the bite into your mouth like he expected it all along.
You chew thoughtfully.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“That works.”
David smirks faintly.
Because here’s the thing.
He figured you out years ago.
The moment he noticed the pattern.
The stolen bites.
The way you always leaned over at the exact same time his fork moved.
So now he’s started planning ahead.
You take another bite from your own plate this time, but he’s already preparing the next one.
He cuts a small piece.
Lifts the fork.
And before you can even lean over- He holds it directly in front of your face.
You pause mid-reach.
“…Are you feeding me?”
“You’re going to steal it anyway.”
You squint at him suspiciously.
“That’s profiling.”
“Open.”
You open your mouth again without hesitation.
He feeds you the bite.
You chew, clearly pleased with yourself.
“This is efficient.”
“Mm.”
Another bite.
Same thing.
He prepares it.
Holds it out.
You accept it like it’s completely normal.
After the fourth time, you lean back in your chair slightly.
“You’ve adapted.”
David shrugs.
“You’re predictable.”
You gasp dramatically.
“I am not predictable.”
“You’ve stolen food off my fork every day for at least four years.”
“That’s because you don’t share.”
“I literally cook for you.”
“That’s different.”
He chuckles under his breath and prepares another bite.
Again, he holds it toward you.
But this time you pause.
“…Wait.”
“What?”
“You haven’t eaten.”
He looks down at the plate like he just realized that.
You glance between him and the fork.
Then gently take the utensil from his hand.
He watches curiously.
You cut a small bite from his plate.
Then hold it up to him.
His eyebrows lift slightly.
“Well,” he says quietly, “this is new.”
“Open.”
He stares at you for a second.
Then leans forward and takes the bite.
You grin.
“See? Sharing.”
David shakes his head slightly, amused.
“Thief.”
“Provider.”
He snorts.
You go back to eating your own plate for a moment.
David finally gets a couple bites in peace.
Then. Without looking up.
You reach over again.
Your hand closes around the fork he’s holding.
He sighs.
“…Angel.”
“What?”
“You’re doing it again.”
You shrug innocently.
“You didn’t offer.”
He watches you steal the bite with absolutely zero shame.
Then he just shakes his head, cutting another piece.
And of course..
He lifts it toward you first.
Because at this point, it’s easier that way. He knows you only do it occasionally for his attention. But he loves it.
based on @chimckenns recent post 😊
David isn’t subtle about it.
He never has been.
Not in the way he looks at you, not in the way his hand always finds your waist in crowded rooms, and definitely not in the marks the two of you leave on each other.
You notice it one morning while getting ready for work.
You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hair pushed over one shoulder, examining your neck.
It’s… impressive.
Your skin is scattered with fading purples and deep red marks, some darker than others. Evidence of the previous night that David had been particularly affectionate, and particularly territorial.
You tilt your head slightly.
“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath.
Behind you, David leans casually against the bathroom doorframe with a mug of coffee in his hand.
He looks far too pleased with himself.
“You’re staring,” he observes.
You point at your neck in the mirror.
“Daveyyy”
He takes a slow sip of coffee like he has absolutely no idea what you’re referring to.
“Yes?”
“You look like you tried to leave a constellation on my throat.”
His eyes flick down to your neck.
Then back up.
No shame. Not even a little.
“You’re exaggerating.”
You turn fully toward him. “Am I?”
His gaze drags across the marks again, slower this time, like he’s inspecting his work.
“…Looks fine to me.”
You narrow your eyes.
“You’re unbelievable.”
But the corner of your mouth lifts anyway.
Because if anyone looked at David right now, they’d see he’s not exactly innocent either.
The sleeves of his t-shirt ride slightly higher when he crosses his arms.
And there they are.
Clear bite marks along the curve of his bicep.
A few on his shoulder too, ones you remember leaving when he’d been teasing you relentlessly.
You step toward him and grab his arm, turning it slightly.
“Look at this,” you say, gesturing at the bite mark.
He glances down like it’s the first time he’s noticed.
“You did that.”
“You deserved it.”
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“Did I?”
You fold your arms. “You were being annoying.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
You point a finger at him in warning.
“Don’t start.”
He steps closer anyway.
Now you’re boxed gently between him and the bathroom counter, his large frame completely unbothered by your attempt at intimidation.
“You’re the one who bites,” he says calmly.
“You encourage it.”
“You started it.”
You scoff. “You literally pinned me down.”
“Correction,” he replies smoothly, leaning closer, “you let me.”
Your face warms slightly at that.
Because… he’s not wrong.
David’s possessive, yes.
But you’ve never exactly discouraged it.
In fact, if anything, you lean into it.
You glance back at the mirror again and gesture vaguely at your neck.
“I have a meeting today.”
He hums thoughtfully.
“Wear a scarf.”
“It’s summer.”
“High collar.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
He reaches up and lightly brushes his thumb along one of the darker marks on your neck.
The touch is gentle, almost reverent, despite the smirk tugging at his mouth.
“You don’t seem that upset.”
You swat his hand away, though there’s no real bite behind it.
“I’m annoyed.”
“You’re proud.”
You roll your eyes dramatically.
“Davey.”
He leans down slightly so his voice is right near your ear.
“You like it.”
You hesitate.
Just for a second.
Then you shrug.
“…Maybe.”
He chuckles quietly.
“That’s what I thought.”
You glance down at his arm again and poke the bite mark.
“You’re not exactly innocent either.”
“Never said I was.”
“Those are going to bruise.”
“They usually do.”
“You’re going to walk into meetings like that?”
He shrugs easily. He has become so laid back its almost hard to remember the david you had first met.
“Let them wonder.”
You stare at him.
“You’re insane.”
His hand slides around your waist, pulling you a little closer.
“But you like me anyway.”
You sigh dramatically, resting your head briefly against his chest.
“Unfortunately.”
He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.
Then murmurs, low and satisfied.
“Good.”
as a community we need more spicy david stories/headcanons 🙏 i feel deprived
David always pushes it just a little too far.
Not in a mean way, never cruel, but in that smug, knowing way where he tilts his head and says something just to see your reaction.
You’re standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, trying very hard not to smile while he recounts your dramatic reaction to something minor earlier.
“I did not sound like that,” you snap.
“Oh, you absolutely did,” he replies, dropping his voice into an exaggerated imitation of you. “David, this is unacceptable.”
Your jaw drops. “You’re so annoying.”
He grins. That’s the problem. He looks entirely too pleased with himself.
You huff, cheeks warm, and turn on your heel. “I’m done talking to you.”
“Mm-hm,” he hums, amused.
You make it two steps.
Two.
Before his hand hooks gently around your wrist and he tugs you back toward him.
“Davey-”
You don’t even get to finish because suddenly you’re pulled flush against him, his hands settling firmly on your hips. Not rough. Not aggressive. Just certain.
“Don’t walk away from me like that,” he murmurs, smiling down at you.
You try to look offended, but the way his thumbs press lightly into your sides makes it difficult to maintain the pout.
“I’m mad at you,” you insist.
He leans down slightly, brows lifting. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
“For teasing you?”
“Yes.”
He studies your face like he’s examining evidence.
“Don’t be mad.”
It’s unfair how gentle he sounds after being insufferable thirty seconds ago.
You try to twist away, but his grip on your hips tightens just enough to keep you in place. His thumbs rub small circles, grounding, soothing.
“You love when I tease you,” he adds quietly.
“I do not.”
“You do.”
You glare up at him, but your lip is still stuck in that little pout he knows too well.
He dips his head closer, voice lowering. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
“I hate you.”
He smiles. “No, you don’t.”
Your resolve starts crumbling when he rests his forehead against yours, hands still steady at your hips, anchoring you there like you belong.
“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”
You try not to.
You fail.
The second your eyes meet his, the teasing is gone. He’s just… there. Warm. Fond. Completely unbothered by your dramatics.
“I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s clearly not that sorry. “Didn’t mean to push it too far.”
You squint. “You absolutely did.”
He chuckles softly. “Maybe a little.”
Your shoulders relax despite yourself.
His thumbs slide slightly higher along your waist, reassuring. “I like when you come back to me.”
“I wasn’t coming back,” you mutter.
He raises an eyebrow. “You always do.”
And that’s the worst part.
Because he’s right.
You let out a quiet sigh, resting your hands on his chest instead of pushing him away.
“Stop being smug,” you mumble.
“Stop being cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
He smiles down at you. “Sure.”
You try to stay mad.
You really do.
But when his hands stay warm and steady on your hips and he leans in just enough to brush his nose against yours, the pout melts into something softer.
“Okay,” you grumble. “Maybe I’m a little less mad.”
He grins like he’s just won something.
“There my angel is,” he says gently.
And just like that, you’re exactly where he wanted you, dragged back, hands on your hips, and no longer walking away.
Simon and Johnny tease like it’s a second language. It’s constant. Effortless. Half affection, half psychological warfare.
Johnny will start it nine times out of ten. He’ll lean in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Simon do something mundane like making tea.
“You gonna glare at the kettle until it boils, or you want me to teach you how it works?” Johnny’ll say, smirk already forming.
Simon doesn’t even look up. “Careful, Johnny. I’ve seen you burn toast.”
“Oh, here we go,” Johnny scoffs. “One time.”
“It was twice.”
Johnny gasps like he’s been personally betrayed. “You said you wouldn’t bring that up again!”
Simon finally looks at him then, deadpan expression perfectly in place. “Did I?”
It escalates quickly from there.
Johnny will poke at Simon’s height, his brooding silence, the way he pretends not to care about things he very obviously cares about. Simon retaliates by pointing out Johnny’s dramatic tendencies, his need for attention, the way he absolutely cannot sit still for more than five minutes.
“You’re like a golden retriever with Wi-Fi,” Simon mutters once.
Johnny stares at him. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re loud and easily distracted.”
“And you’re emotionally constipated,” Johnny shoots back instantly.
The room erupts. Kyle nearly chokes. You bury your face in your hands. Even Price can’t hide the grin tugging at his mouth.
But the teasing is never sharp. Never cruel. There’s an undercurrent to it, something warm. Familiar. Safe.
Johnny will flick Simon’s shoulder as he walks past, just to provoke him. Simon will hook an arm around Johnny’s waist and drag him back without warning. Johnny pretends to protest every single time. He never actually tries to get away.
Sometimes it’s quieter. Softer.
Johnny will tug lightly at Simon’s sleeve and say, “You know you love me.”
Simon raises an eyebrow. “Tolerate you.”
Johnny grins. “Obsessed with me.”
Simon hums, pretending to consider it, then presses a brief kiss to Johnny’s temple when he thinks no one’s looking.
The teasing is just how they say it without saying it.
It’s I see you.
It’s I know you.
It’s I’m comfortable enough to poke at you because I trust you not to break.
And the best part?
The second either of them actually needs something real, he teasing vanishes instantly.
Simon’s hand finds Johnny’s back.
Johnny’s voice softens.
The smirks disappear.
But five minutes later?
“Oi,” Johnny calls from across the room. “You sulking or just thinking too hard?”
Simon exhales slowly. “Come here so I can remind you why you shouldn’t test me.”
And Johnny walks right over, grinning like he’s already won.
i just know angel is smart asf and makes absolute BANK. David is just happy to be a trophy husband and see them succeed
David probably makes a lot as the CEO of Shaw Security too
Together they’re probably rich rich
Hence the pool PLUS the hot tub
I bet their house is huge too 🤩
David Shaw working security for Angel's big work events when
OMG AND the boys giving david shit because he cant stop looking at his angel with pride. ash has even caught him tearing up seeing angel do a presentation in front of 1000+ people and not let it go. babe taking a photo of david smiling and looking at them to show angel later RHHEHEBFJSNDBTKSJAAN
i just know angel is smart asf and makes absolute BANK. David is just happy to be a trophy husband and see them succeed