#i feel like i am slowly getting better at making these

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Slipping through my fingers"

ok yall this is an emotional one!! it expands more on reader and jason's dynamic before he died and shows why jason is an especially sore spot for reader. it's also jason who she's most vulnerable and willing to forgive.

You and Jason ate the popcorn chicken on your bed in silence. For a moment, you pretended that everything was normal again. That Jason was still just Jason and you were still just you. That he was still your big brother that meant the world to you and that you were still his baby sister who he adored and couldn't go a day without.

For a moment, jason could pretend he wasn't the Red Hood, a vigilante who struck fear even in the darkest of hearts, he could pretend he was just comforting his little sister who meant the world to him.

Jason stares at you, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s trying to burn through the walls you’ve built between you. His breathing is shallow, tight with something unspoken, something raw. He’s been holding it in, holding it all in—his guilt, his regret, his anger—but it’s all starting to crack. The cracks are sharp now, and they’re starting to bleed.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he spits, his voice gravelly, thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “I didn’t want to become this. I didn’t want to lose you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, harsh and mocking, and you can feel the edge of your own frustration clawing at you. “Well, newsflash, Jason, you did. You lost me the moment you decided that pushing me away was the best option. You don’t get to sit there and tell me how you didn’t want to hurt me when you were the one who abandoned me without a second thought. I ran into your arms and you acted like you couldn't care less.”

His jaw tightens and you see something almost vulnerable flicker across his face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by something darker; guilt, maybe, but also something like self-loathing.

“You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to hurt you?” His voice is quiet, almost deadly calm, but the tremor in his tone betrays him. “I didn’t want to drag you down, okay? I didn’t want to make you part of this... mess I’ve become. I thought if I just kept my distance, kept you away from all the shit in my life, I’d be doing you a favor. ”

“And what the hell makes you think I needed your protection, huh?” You snap back, “You think I couldn’t handle whatever shit you were going through? You think I couldn’t handle you? You never gave me the chance to help. You just shut me out, Jason. Like I was just some... some stranger. Like you weren't the closest thing I had to family. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for you. you were my brother. I loved Dick but he was never you.”

Jason’s eyes flash, anger mixing with the guilt, there’s an almost pleading intensity to him now. “I wasn’t protecting you,” he murmurs, voice breaking, just a little. “I was protecting myself. Because every damn time I saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you. How much I wanted you in my life, and I was so fucking scared that if you stuck around, you’d see everything I was trying to hide. That you’d see how broken I really am. And you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my shit, in the mess I was making of myself.”

Your heart clenches at the rawness of his words, the vulnerability creeping in, uninvited and unwelcome. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s a coward, to tell him how much it hurt, how much it still hurts. But instead, you feel a lump form in your throat, something tight, constricting. The years of silence between you, the hurt, the loneliness—it hits all at once.

“You were never a mess to me,” you say, quieter now, as if the weight of his confession is slowly wearing you down. “I knew you, Jason. I knew who you were before all this. The guy I could talk to about anything. The guy who knew me better than anyone. The one who made me feel like I actually belonged. ”

Jason’s eyes widen, his breath catching as if you’ve just hit him in the chest. “I thought about you every day, you know?” he says in a hoarse whisper, his voice trembling. “Every day. You think I didn’t miss you? I thought about those times, the way we used to be... how you would just be there. You and me against the world. I remember laughing with you. Just... sitting there, talking about stupid stuff, and it felt like we were the only two people who really got it. I missed that, more than anything.”

You feel a tightness in your chest at the words, something fragile breaking open. You remember. You remember the late nights, the quiet conversations that meant more than anything else in the world. He was everything to you, back then. But now... now everything is just fractured pieces, fragments that don’t fit together anymore.

“You left,” you whisper, voice shaking, barely audible. “You left me, Jason. You left me without a word, without a reason. And I don’t care how much you missed me. That doesn’t change what you did. How you let her in after years of ignoring me.”

Jason’s face twists in pain, the anger shifting into something else, something raw and regretful. “I thought you’d be better off without me,” he admits, his voice breaking, the quiet words ripping through the space between you. “I thought if I just stayed away, you wouldn’t have to deal with my shit. You wouldn’t have to deal with... me.” His fists unclench, and he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “I didn’t think you’d need me anymore. I thought I was dragging you down. I was so damn scared of ruining everything we had. But instead, I ended up ruining everything. And I can’t fix that. I know that. I just... I just wanted you to know that I didn’t want to leave. I thought if I stayed, I’d hurt you even more. I thought... I thought it’d be easier to let you go than to keep pushing you away. I was wrong.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and painful, like a confession he’s carried for too long. You want to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words are stuck, lodged in your throat. The vulnerability between you is unbearable, but you can’t ignore the truth in his eyes. He’s not the same person who walked away all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, he’s not the same person he was when he left. But you don’t know if that’s enough. You don’t know if you can trust him again.

"I wrote to you, you know? When i thought you were.... gone. I wrote to you almost every single day, I figured you'd like it, think it's something out of those books you used to read. It made me feel like you were still with me, like you were watching over me. When you, when you came back, I was convinced I wished you alive." You admitted your childish thoughts, voice breaking in between sobs.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know who you’ve become. I don’t know if you’re the person who cared about me, the one who sat with me and talked about everything or if you’re just some... some shadow of him. And I don’t know if I’ want to find out. Or if i'm ready to let go and forgive”

Jason stares at you, his face pale, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’m begging you. just let me try to make it right. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove that I’m not that guy anymore. I can’t erase what happened. I can't erease Tiffany. I can’t take back the years we lost. But I can try to be the person you used to know. The person you trusted. I can be your big brother again. I can still keep the nightmares away”

The silence between you stretches, each second heavier than the last. You’re caught in the middle—caught between the person you were, the person you are now, and the person he’s trying to be. But for the first time in a long time, Jason isn’t running. He’s not hiding from you. And as much as you want to shut him out, to protect yourself from more pain, something inside you is aching—aching for that connection you once had, aching for the possibility that it’s not too late to fix this.

What really broke you was seeing him cry. It was like you were a child again. It nearly broke your brain seeing Jason, your fearless big brother, your idol, cry.

“We can try” you whisper, your voice small, fragile, like it’s a decision that could break you. " it’s not gonna be easy, Jason. Things cant magically change no matter what we wish."

Jason nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his face stricken with the weight of everything he’s put you through. “I know,” he breathes, barely audible. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time. Never again.”

After Jason left, you had to sit and process what happened. In truth, you didn't know if things could ever be the same between you and jason. So many years of neglect and anger couldn't disappear with just a conversation and apology. No, you would make him, them, know what it feels like to be begging for scraps. Maybe things wouldn't be the same with jason, maybe after time and effort, they could be better. You missed him. So much. It would be easier to forgive him than Bruce. Yeah, Bruce is your father but Jason was your hero.

When Bruce reaches your door, he hesitates for a moment. The heavy weight of guilt in his chest is hard to ignore, but there’s something more, something that unsettles him even more than the tension in the air: the fear that you’re slipping through his fingers. That what happened today might have cracked something too deep to repair.

He knocks once, then opens the door.

You’re sitting on your bed, your back to him, staring out the window as if you’re already a million miles away. It’s almost as if you’ve already shut everything out, ready to move on.

His voice comes quietly, strained. " we need to talk.”

You don’t respond, not right away. Bruce steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The air feels heavy, like something’s already been decided, but he won’t let that deter him. He takes a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rising panic in his chest.

He’s careful, almost too careful, when he speaks again. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But what happened today, what you did to Tim and Damian, it can’t go unanswered. It wasn’t just about the fight. You crossed a line, and I need to know that you’re aware of that.”

You turn slowly to face him, your eyes burning with frustration, and Bruce can see the rawness in them. The anger. The hurt. It cuts through him, deeper than any physical wound ever could.

“And what should I have done, Bruce? Sit there and take it? Let them walk all over me? Let ya'll act like nothing's wrong? Like you didn't ship me away because some bottle blonde bitch said to?” You scoff, the bitterness in your voice thick enough to choke on. “I’m sick of being treated like I don’t matter. Like I’m just an afterthought. You and your little Batfamily can keep pushing me to the side, but don’t expect me to sit quietly while you pretend I’m not even here. Not anymore. Never again”

Bruce’s face tightens with guilt, but he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I want. I never wanted you to feel that way. I know I haven’t been there like I should have. I know we've all been horrible and cruel. But that’s no excuse for what you did.”

The words sting, but your anger doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it flares up again. You stand up abruptly, pacing, the frustration too much to keep inside. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to do anything that inconveniences you or your precious Batfamily. You want me to apologize for fighting back like I’m the one in the wrong here, right? You want me to crawl back to them, all nice and meek, because that’s what you think I should be. What I used to be. But I’m not that person anymore, Bruce. I’m not. And it’s about damn time you realize that. If anything, me and Damian aren't even close to even, he's hurt me before, threatened me before, that always went unanswered. Because fuck me right? Who cares about me? Tell Tim he's welcome to come get his lick back, I wasn't thinking when I hit him.”

Bruce flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. You’re right, he’s failed you. He’s allowed the distance between you two to grow, let it fester until you finally exploded. He’d told himself that you would always be there, that you were part of his family, but he’d taken that for granted.

You were right, Damian was never punished but Bruce would ensure that no one, not even Damian would ever get away with hurting you again.

But then, just when he thinks he has a handle on the situation, you drop the bombshell that completely shatters any control he had left.

You cross your arms over your chest and exhale, your voice soft but full of finality. “I’m leaving tomorrow. For the South of France. I’m staying with Ariel and her dad for the summer.”

The words land like a punch in the gut. Bruce freezes, his hand almost involuntarily reaching out toward you, though he stops himself just short. His breath catches in his throat.

“France?” His voice cracks for the first time since he entered the room. His mind races, how could you leave like this? How could you just walk away? You two were making progress, learning to understand each other. How was he supposed to fix this if you left? Was it that easy for you? Was it that easy for him to lose you? “You can’t.” He states, his tone final and unforgiving.

“I can. I already have everything packed, in fact, I literally didn't even unpack.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to hide the ache in your chest behind a mask of indifference. “Ariel and I have been talking about this for months, it's our trip.”

Bruce takes a step toward you, voice low and edged with something darker, more possessive. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”

You shake your head, the fire in your eyes fading just a little, replaced by something more resigned. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve barely noticed me, Bruce. You’ve been too busy with your missions, your family, your life, and I’ve been here, waiting. But not anymore. I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to remember I exist. I deserve more than that. That boarding school was the best thing that happened to me.”

Bruce can feel the weight of your words, the sting of rejection, and it makes something inside him snap. He knows he’s messed up. He knows he’s made mistakes. But the idea of you leaving—of you walking away, out of his reach—is something he won’t stand for. Not now. Not when he’s just starting to recognize how badly he’s failed you. Not when he can still feel the resentment rolling off you in waves.

“I can’t let you go,” Bruce says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. His eyes lock with yours, the intensity between you two growing, thick with unspoken emotions. “Not like this. Not when I’m just starting to understand everything that’s been wrong. I’ve messed up, but don’t leave. I’ll fix this. I promise. I’ll fix it.”

You stare at him, unmoving, but the fire in your eyes softens just a little. There’s a flicker of doubt now, a tiny crack in the armor you’ve put up. But it’s not enough. Not yet. Not enough to change your mind.

“I don’t know, Bruce.” Your voice is quieter now, but still laced with hurt. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. You’re not the person you used to be. And neither am I. Maybe that’s just... something we both have to face.”

Bruce steps closer, close enough now that his presence seems to fill the room, heavy and suffocating in a way that only he can. His hand reaches out slowly, this time not hesitating, and he places it on your shoulder gently.

“I don’t want to lose you, not when I've just started to see you,” he says, his voice hoarse with a desperation he’s never let show before. “I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right. But I need you to stay. I need you here with me, please.”

The words hang in the air between you two, a fragile plea that feels both urgent and terrifying. The mighty Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, the Batman, stood in front of you begging.

You don’t respond immediately. Instead, you stand there, staring at him as if you’re seeing him for the first time in a long while. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a flicker of hope in your eyes. But not enough.

"Compromise. I'll stay with Ariel for two and a half months and i'll come back here for two weeks before school." You say, eyes gleaming with the signature look all Waynes get when negotiating. Yes, you wanted to give him a small chance but there's no way you're backing out of this trip and leaving Ariel and her hot dad hanging. You weren't about to give up a summer of tanning, flirting, partying, and country hopping with your best friends for the chance that you might fix things with your father.

Bruce raised his brows, almost smiling. You were cute when you tried to be tough, but the deal is what made him falter. Two teenagers, two months unsupervised in a foreign country, who knows what could happen? Who knows what kind of influence this Ariel is? But what was really funny was that you talked like you were going back to New York for school! No, you were coming back to Gotham Prep and staying the manor, where you belonged. But Bruce wasn't cruel. He'd let you hope. "We can go as a family, a family vacation. I'll meet your friend and decide if she's trustworthy. I have a villa right in the-"

"No! Please no! I would rather die. This is a girls trip. As in only me and Ariel. We've been planning this forever. I won't cancel. Or bring my family, that's so lame. You never would've cared before." You say almost stomping your feet, playing the guilt card. You couldn't have your family there seeing what you get up to and who you get up to it with!

"One month and you take Dick with you." There was no way you were going alone. Bruce wouldn't cave, nor would he be guilt tripped.

The mighty Bruce Wayne got hustled by his 16 year old daughter. In the end he caved, you would stay with Ariel for two months and two weeks, not a day more nor a day less. You would apologize to Tim and leave tomorrow after a peaceful family breakfast. You would have your location on at all times. Yeah Bruce got played, but as he walked out your room and looked back to see you grinning from ear to ear and calling your friend, jumping up and down, he decided it was worth it to see you this happy.

He would let you have these two months, then you'd be back home where you belonged.

The morning felt too still. Too quiet. The clock ticked on in the background, but it didn’t seem to matter. Every movement felt exaggerated, every breath, every shift of your weight, every step as you made your way around the dining table. It was as if the house itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Something to shift.

As you went and sat down at the table, it was quiet once again and the air was even heavier than yesterday.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, his face unreadable as he sipped his coffee, eyes occasionally flicking toward you but never fully meeting yours. He was distant, but somehow… present in a way that felt more intrusive than comforting. He hadn’t been this present in years, actually never. Not to you.

Bruce’s gaze didn’t leave you as you walked, his eyes colder than you remembered yesterday. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your suitcase, the weight of his attention pulling at your chest.

Jason sat to his right, his hand resting on his mug with a white-knuckled grip, his expression hard and unreadable. Every so often, his eyes would slide over to you, watching your movements, the way you tucked things into your bag or adjusted the straps of your suitcase. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was mentally memorizing every detail, every shift.

Bruce’s gaze was fixed on you as he slid the black card across the table, its dark, sleek surface catching the light just right.

“Take it,” he said quietly, his tone laced with authority. “Use it for whatever you need. You don’t have to go without. Don't forget, you're a part of this family, always have been. I want to make sure you have what you need.”

You almost recoiled at the gesture, the black card a symbol of everything that tied you to this mansion, to this family. It was a physical representation of his control, their attempts to make you feel like you were part of something. But it felt more like a chain. But it is unlimited money... You didn’t take your eyes off him as you slid it into your bag, the tension in the room making your throat dry.

Your outfit—intentionally revealing, a far cry from the usual soft layers you wore when you spent time with them—felt more out of place than ever. The shorts, lulu lemon in the shortest length, the cropped top—it had been a subtle rebellion. A way to assert yourself, to feel free. But now, as their eyes flicked over you, you felt too exposed. Too seen.

Jason’s eyes lingered on your exposed skin, his expression unreadable, but his lips were pressed together in a thin line. There was an edge to his stare, like he didn’t like what he saw, but he didn’t speak. Not directly. His fists were still clenched at his sides, his jaw taut.

Damian’s eyes flicked over you as well, but his anger seemed to burn hotter, sharper. “Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear. But it wasn’t meant for you—it was meant for himself, for the way he couldn’t control you. For the fact that you’d gotten away. For now.

And then, there was Bruce. His gaze never wavered, never softened, just cold and steady. He said nothing more about the card, but his eyes held something that felt too heavy to bear. Possession. It hung between them like an unspoken truth. And the way his eyes moved over you—lingering just a little too long on the exposed parts of her skin—made your skin crawl.

Jason’s voice broke through the silence next, but it was low, playful, but edged with something else. Something that made her skin crawl.

“No boys,” he said, his tone playful, even as his gaze flicked to the door. “I don’t care who you’re staying with, but no boys. Got it?”

The playful tone didn’t match the intensity in his gaze, though. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to play it off.

“I’m sorry, what?” you replied, letting a smirk cross your face, trying to make it clear that this was just Jason being Jason. They were back to normal.

“No boys,” he repeated, the humor slipping from his voice now, replaced with something colder. “I’m serious. No fucking around while i'm not there. No fucking around in general, figuratively and literally.”

Your heart skipped. You glanced at Bruce, expecting him to give a soft chuckle or a reassuring nod to say it was just Jason being… well, Jason. But Bruce didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering. His expression was cold, his lips pressed into a firm line. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even looking amused.

“Jason’s right,” he said, his words steady and resolute. “No boys. Not while you’re here. Not while you’re under this roof.”

You almost scoffed, good thing you weren't gonna be under this roof for long.

You blinked, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. He wasn’t joking. His posture was rigid, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that almost felt like a command.

Jason didn’t speak again, but the message had been clear.

No boys.

You nodded stiffly, the weight of his demand sitting in the pit of your stomach.

Duke, who had been mostly quiet up until now, was the next to speak, but his voice was softer, more thoughtful, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation.

“You don’t have to go. You know that, right?” he said, his voice tentative, though there was an undercurrent of something else—something protective. "We could all go together. It’s better that way."

But his offer hung in the air like a dream you couldn’t quite reach. You could see it in his eyes—a hint of something, perhaps concern, perhaps something more. It wasn’t quite the same as Bruce’s cold stare or Jason’s intense grip on control. But there was an edge to it.

Cass, perched at the far end of the table, seemed as unreadable as ever. But there was something in her posture today—an intensity, like she was bracing herself, like something was about to happen, even if she couldn’t quite put it into words. She didn’t speak, but her gaze tracked every movement, every gesture, as if she were memorizing it.

Tim, seated next to Cass, had barely said anything all morning. His eyes flickered to you now and then, but it was more of a quiet observation, something far too careful and deliberate. He was almost… detached. But there was a coldness in the way he looked at you, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was waiting.

Barbara was the exception—her smile was too wide, her eyes too bright, like she was trying to convince herself of something she wasn’t sure about. She kept trying to fill the silence with light conversation, but it always felt forced. And when her gaze landed on you, it lingered a little too long.

Steph, across from her, was the only one trying to keep things light. But the way she kept glancing at the door, at the phone on the table, at her own reflection in the polished surface—it was obvious she was uncomfortable. She was nervous. Especially after yesterday. And it was more than just the impending trip.

The room was alive with their watchfulness. It wasn’t just their presence—it was the way they didn’t speak directly to you, but everything they did seemed to be a reminder that they were there, that they could be there.

Damian scoffed from the end of the table and opened his mouth but closed it as Bruce looked at him sternly. He just rolled his eyes and went back to glaring at the wall, muttering things under his breath and gripping the table tightly.

He had been unusually quiet up until now and scoffed from his spot at the table, his eyes narrowed as he shot you a glare so venomous it was almost rivaled your actual venom.

“You think you can just leave, after everything?” Damian hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. His fists clenched under the table. “You think a simple apology makes everything okay? You punched me and left. You don’t just get to walk away from that.”

His anger seemed to grow with each word, but there was something beneath it, something that felt darker than simple sibling rivalry. As if the violation of his personal space and authority left him feeling more than just hurt, but threatened.

You knew that hitting him, striking him with all the force you could muster—had been the culmination of everything you couldn’t say, couldn’t express after all these years. But now, facing him again, you felt the weight of his anger. His rage wasn’t just directed at the punch. It was everything: the way you were walking out. The way you were leaving.

“Alright, listen up,” Dick said, his grin playful, cutting through the tension though his voice carried that same underlying weight. “Rules. You're not running off on some crazy solo adventure without us knowing every detail. I’m serious, okay?” His smile remained, but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not a little kid anymore, but that doesn’t mean you get to act like an adult. I’m gonna need you to check in—like, every single day. Got it?”

The way he said it, like it was a joke, yet his tone was so firm that it left no room for argument. And then, with a playful but almost possessive look, he added, “No crazy parties, no boys, no drinking, and if you get yourself into trouble, don't come running back here. Just kidding! If you need anything, call me.”

His words had a strange effect, both reassuring and infuriating at the same time. You didn’t need him or anyone else telling you what you could or couldn’t do, you didn't need him acting like cared. Like he was suddenly your big brother after years of ignoring you and brushing you off.

Dick was still watching you, like he was hoping you’d cave to whatever soft version of control he was offering. “Alright, just... make sure you come back. I know we don’t say it much, but we care about you, okay? I can't change the past but I do regret it and I do love you. Don’t forget that.”

And there it was—his mask slipping for just a second. His voice softened, but there was something underneath it. Possessiveness, cloaked in affection. It was hard to ignore, the way his eyes followed your movements just a little too closely, the way his words lingered like an unspoken demand.

You didn’t respond immediately, your mind swirling with everything you wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, you let the silence hang in the air, a heavy, thick thing. There was something off about the manor now. Something that hadn’t been there before. The way they all watched you, their glances lingering a little too long, the small, subtle ways they tried to control your every movement—it was suffocating, and yet... it was addicting.

It felt nice being cared about, knowing you had control over their feelings now.

Your mind wandered, thinking of the freedom waiting for you in France. The sun, the beaches, the boys, the carefree nights with Ariel and your other friends—the perfect escape from all this suffocating attention. They don’t get it.

And then you realized—it wasn't just you going on vacation. Something would change when you came back.

When the time came, you’d have to navigate this new, tense version of your family. A family who acted like they cared.

The game had shifted, and now you were part of a strange, unspoken power struggle—your power over them was now as much as theirs over you used to be.

As you were leaving to the airport, your family bid you goodbye. None of them were driving you, they all had busy days today. Jason wrapped you in a short, tight hug, telling you to text him when the plane took off and landed and telling you to be careful, his eyes hard and filled with warning.

Something is his tone set you off, you pulled away before you realized it and got in the car, ignoring Bruce and Dick's awkward attempts to hug you and not even glancing at everyone else.

As you pulled away from the manor and watched their figures in the distance, dread pooled in your stomach. You didn't know why but you were already dreading coming back.

OK YA'LL SORRY ITS LATE. Idk why is struggled writing this chapter so much! lmk what yall think of it and why the reader thinks things are off.

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[slapmeshigaraki]

﹙✿﹚"Ask and you shall receive." ﹙✿﹚

♡ warnings: caleb x fem!reader, fingering, dirty talk, begging, caleb is kinda gross in this, manipulation if you squint

♡ a/n: caleb's update has me obsessed and i have no one to talk to about it... so i wrote this idk. something short,, enjoy xx

Caleb was the kind of person that needed to be needed. You couldn’t open the lid on the pickle jar—he wanted you to ask him for help. You weren’t feeling well—he wanted you to ask him to come over and make you some soup. You needed to cum—you’d better ask him to do that too.

“Come on, use your big girl words for me, sugar.” You could barely keep your eyes open as the man above you thrusted into you relentlessly. Caleb was filthy, smiling down at you as such sinful words fell from his lips. The visual of his toned arms flexing as his rough hand gripped your thighs, holding them apart while he slid in and out of you at a pace that made you unable to form coherent sentences, only fragments and desperate little whines. He was about to cum just at the sight of you, eyes rolling into the back of your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, spine arching off the the mattress with each movement he made, your little hand pressing against his abs, sticky skin trying your best to push him away from between your legs. You just wanted, no, you needed him to slow down, his relentless abuse of your little hole quickly becoming too much to bare.

“Please I- Caleb pleasee…” Another whine. You were sure you looked pathetic, weak little fingers hopelessly pressing against him, to no avail. After all, he was so much bigger than you, so much stronger than you that no matter how hard you tried to make him slow his pace, if Caleb didn’t want to slow down… there was nothing you could do about it.

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want, go on…” His violent irises darkened, devouring you with ease as he reached his free hand out to you, thumb caressing your soft cheek and rubbing your tears into your skin. He leaned into you, folding you in half as he forced your plush thigh against your tummy. You were so close now… his lips a mere inch away from your ear. His ragged breaths were music to your ears, the warmth causing even more wetness to pool between your legs. You were sloppy… just like Caleb wanted you. “Tell daddy what you need.”

“I wanna cum so bad."

“Aw, sweet girl. You wanna cum? Is that how we ask for things?” he whispered into your ear, sinister grin evident in his tone. He could tell you were close by the way your walls fluttered against him, clenching onto his dick, begging for him to cum inside so politely. He finally slowed down, pulling out until only the tip, thick and aching, was left against your entrance before slowly forcing his way back inside of you, rolling his hips against you once your skin finally met again. This was somehow more agonizing than before, the change of pace making your legs shake against him. He couldn’t help but to coo at the sight—such a sweet thing writhing underneath him, big doe eyes filled to the brim with tears, your little tummy quivering every time he moved.

“Please Caleb can I cum?” You stuttered out, moans interrupting each word against your will.

“I don’t know baby, can you?” The warmth of his hand on your face was gone at once, quickly moving to where you needed it the most. His thumb pushed itself against your clit, moving in the same sinful rhythm as his hips, rubbing your juices against the sensitive bud.

“You were just tryna push me away earlier and now you want to cum? You must be confused, hm? Am I fucking you that good?”

“Yes oh my god, you feel so good.”

“Pretty girl, getting fucked stupid on daddy’s cock. There’s nothing in that sweet little head is there? You just wanna feel good huh, only ever thinking with your cunt,” he said, pressing a soft wet kiss against your leg that was now limply dangling over his shoulder.

“I can certainly tell she wants it. What a messy pussy for me…” his index finger pressed against your entrance, the tip daring to slide in beside his cock. He wasn't sure you'd be able to take it, but your pussy... she was already asking him so sweetly. How could he say no?

“Beg me.” It wasn’t a request or a suggestion, but an order. The kind he must’ve barked out to his subordinates on the fleet, the kind that made men straighten their backs in attention or cower in fear, the kind that mare you grip him even tighter.

“Caleb please. I need you to make me cum. Please may I cum.”

"Ask and you shall receive, sweetheart." Without warning, you felt his thick digit slide into you, each knuckle forcing your walls to widen and a string of filthy moans to flood the room from the two of you.

“Aw bi-biiiig stretch, sorry sugar. It feels good though, huh, being so full? Is daddy making his pretty girl feel good?” He knew you wouldn’t be able to answer him any longer, a fog of pleasure clouding your head, leaving that familiar fucked-out look on your face, tongue hanging out of your mouth as the pressure rose inside of you. His finger and cock stretched your insides so nicely, your tight hole gripping them both, trying to milk out a week’s worth of cum from Caleb.

“Go ahead, it’s okay, you can let it go. Let me hear you whine for me while I make my this pussy cum all over me. Such a sloppy fucking girl, aren’t you—“ To Caleb’s surprise, his string of encouragement was cut off by the most intense feeling he’d ever felt, the sensation of your pussy cumming around him the hardest it ever has. Your body spasmed beneath him, wetness soaking his skin and the sheet beneath you as he continued to move slowly into you, letting you ride it out and grind against him all you needed.

“What a big girl cumming on daddy’s cock—making a big mess for me to clean up later aren’t you, baby. That’s okay… daddy doesn’t mind helping his baby out. All you have to do is ask.”

[cosmiclily]

chapter four: bad decisions

wc: 2.4k

cw: mdni, suggestive, cussing.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a sour taste lingering on your tongue. Your body feels heavy, and when you try to stretch, something—or rather, someone—solid stops you. Panic sets in instantly.

God, what did I do? Did I go home with someone? Did I get kidnapped? What is going on?

Your heart races as you take in your surroundings. Relief floods you when you realize you're in your hotel room. The familiar sight of your clothes haphazardly tossed across the floor reassures you that at least you're in the right place. But the warmth next to you makes it clear you're not alone.

Slowly, you turn, dread pooling in your stomach as you brace yourself to see who—or what—is in bed with you.

A mop of black hair catches your eye.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Your brain short-circuits as you stare. You don’t know whether to feel relieved that it’s someone you know—or horrified for the exact same reason.

What the fuck is Vi doing in my bed?

And then it hits you.

Why am I naked?!

You pull the covers up to your chest, your breathing shallow as you try to piece together what happened last night. Images flash through your mind—shots with Jinx and Ekko, the dance floor, the blonde woman... Vi’s piercing gaze.

Vi stirs beside you, mumbling something incoherent as she shifts, her hand brushing against your leg. You freeze, your heart thudding so loud it feels like it might wake her up.

What the hell did I do?

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the images from the previous night, but everything is a blur. All you get are flashes—Vi and you on the dance floor, the feel of her hand on your waist, the two of you laughing in the back of a taxi, her lips crashing into yours, the elevator ride where things got heated, her grip tightening as her hand slid lower, lower, lower into your skirt.

Was that real? Or just a dream?

Before you can unravel your fragmented memories, a knock on the door jolts you out of your spiraling thoughts. Panic flares in your chest as you scramble to wrap the blanket tightly around your body.

You tiptoe to the door, peeking through the peephole, and your stomach sinks. It’s Archie. He doesn’t look very pleased.

Of course. Perfect timing.

Taking a deep breath, you crack the door open just enough to poke your head out. “Good morning, Archie!” you whisper in your best attempt at sounding chipper, though your voice cracks halfway through. “Um, this isn’t a great moment. I’m... I’m really sorry. I’ll catch up with you soon, okay? Please don’t be mad!”

Before Archie can get a word in, you ramble through your apology and slam the door shut, leaning against it as your heart races.

From the other side of the door, you hear a muffled, “What the bloody hell—?” followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps.

You exhale, relieved he didn’t press the issue, but when you turn around, you realize Vi is now awake, sitting up in bed with a lazy smirk on her face.

“Smooth,” she says, her voice low and gravelly from sleep. “Real smooth.”

You groan, pressing your palms against your temples. “What the fuck happened last night, Violet?”

“You know as much as I do, princess,” she replies, picking up her shirt from the floor. “For all I know, you could have taken advantage of me. I don’t remember shit.”

"Stop with the jokes, this is serious. I can only remember things clearly up until that stupid purple shot Jinx gave us. Do you think your sister could have drugged us?" You ramble, walking in circles in your room, your mind racing a million miles per hour, the pounding headache making it impossible to focus.

"Wow, too many words, too soon," she says, massaging her temples. "But I don't think she drugged us. She’s a little crazy, yeah, but not a criminal. You know her better than that."

"Yeah, yeah. God, the one time I decide to let loose, I end up sleeping with you." You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hands over your face, trying to wrap your mind around everything.

"You weren't complaining last night, that’s all I have to say." Vi says with a mischievous grin before casually walking toward the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

"Oh, so you remember it, you little shit." You bang your fist lightly on the door, your voice rising in both disbelief and annoyance. You hear her laughing from the other side.

"Relax, princess," she calls back, her laughter muffled. "You’re just mad ‘cause it was fun."

You press your ear to the door, shaking your head, your chest tightening with a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and something else—something you can’t quite name. The whole situation feels like an overwhelming blur, but there’s no denying the way it all seems to linger, just beyond the edge of your memory. And God, did it feel good.

──────────────────────

The van looked like a funeral—Jinx and Ekko were sharing earbuds, Vi had a massive blue neck pillow and sunglasses on, and you looked like a zombie. Archie climbed into the van with a disappointed look on his face, his eyes scanning the group before he let out a fake cough to get your attention.

“I wanted to do this formally, with time and all that, over breakfast, but it seemed like you all had other plans,” he said, his voice gradually becoming more agitated. As he spoke, his accent thickened with each word, the tension rising in his posture. You could hear Jinx stifling her laughter from across the van, and it only made things worse.

“This small briefing will have to do,” he continued, clearly trying to regain control of the situation. "After the show yesterday, some producers called me, and we're discussing a label contract, and a single."

You blinked a few times, still trying to wake up, but the words didn’t immediately sink in. A label contract? A single? You rubbed your temples, the pounding headache from last night threatening to come back full force.

“So... you’re telling me we’re getting a record deal?” Vi mumbled, her voice muffled by the neck pillow, still clearly not fully awake.

“There are a couple of labels interested in you,” Archie replied, his tone more serious now. “So we’ll talk about this properly when we’re back home. But yes. So, you better get your pens ready and use your explosive emotions to work.” He said the last part while looking directly at Vi, his expression pointed.

Vi grunted in response, but otherwise, didn’t offer much. The drive to the airport was uneventful, the hum of the tires on the road providing a constant background as your mind started to wander. Many ideas popped into your head—some excited, others hesitant—but through it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were on the edge of something big.

You allowed yourself to dream a little, imagining the potential of the label deal, the single that could launch everything you’d ever wanted. But just as quickly, your thoughts kept drifting back to last night. You drank water, hoping it might ease the lingering effects of the night before, and slowly, the memories started coming back—bit by bit.

You remembered how, after the shot, Violet pulled you onto the dance floor. The look on her face that you couldn’t decipher long gone, taking place for one that was a mix of something intense and wild. Then, as the music played, you talked, and after a particularly heated song, you kissed her. It was the best kiss you’d ever received—urgent, electrifying, and full of something unspoken. In the background, you could hear Jinx’s laughter.

“At least she’s not thinking about the one who shouldn’t be named,” Jinx teased between giggles.

After that, it was all a blur of heat and excitement. You were the one who asked Vi if she wanted to come back to the hotel. You initiated the makeout session in the backseat of the taxi—poor taxi driver, you thought, hoping you’d left him a generous tip for having to endure that. And when you reached the hotel, you were the one who made the first move, sliding your hands where they probably shouldn’t have been in the elevator.

You leaned your head back against the seat, your stomach twisting into knots as the weight of everything finally hit you.

What are we going to do about last night?

You really needed to talk to Violet. You had to. But at the same time, you weren’t sure what to say or how to approach it without everything feeling like a mess. Was it just another reckless night? Or something more?

You weren’t interested in any type of relationship, especially not with someone who had just come out of a long-term one. Vi was still getting over Caitlyn, and you had seen the way she still looked at the mention of her—torn between letting go and holding on. The last thing you wanted was to be someone’s rebound, or worse, complicate things further. You had your own emotional baggage to deal with, and you didn’t need to add another layer to it.

──────────────────────

You made sure to share a seat on the plane with Vi, it was a short flight but it was enough time to talk about what last night had meant.

“So… should we talk about last night or what?” You whisper to her, so no one else would hear.

She looked at you over her sunglasses. “What is there to talk about? We fucked, what’s the big deal?”

Your cheeks flushed and you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or rage. “The big deal is that this” you say pointing between the two of you “can become very complicated, very fast, and we have a career on the line.”

“Listen, princess, if it’s that complicated for you, we can pretend it never happened, you don’t talk about it, i don’t talk about it and what’s done is done. I don’t think Ekko nor Jinx remember that we left together, and if they do they won’t mention it.”

Vi’s nonchalant response sent a wave of irritation through you, but there was something else, too—disappointment, maybe? You weren’t even sure why it stung so much. Her ability to brush things off so easily made you question whether last night meant anything to her at all.

Leaning in closer, you lowered your voice. “You don’t get it, Vi. It’s not just about us. It’s about the band, the dynamic, the fact that if this gets messy, it could ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

She sighed, finally pushing her sunglasses onto her head and meeting your gaze. Her piercing eyes carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Okay, fine. I get it. You’re worried. But, honestly? Nothing’s gonna get messy unless you make it messy. You’re the one overthinking this.”

You felt your jaw clench. “Overthinking? I’m trying to be an adult here, Vi. I’m not saying last night wasn’t… fun, but—”

She cut you off with a smirk that both infuriated and unnerved you. “Fun. Sure, we’ll call it that.”

Your glare sharpened, the frustration bubbling over. “Can you be serious for one second? I’m trying to have a real conversation here.”

Vi leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as her smirk faded. Her voice was softer this time, more measured. “Alright. If you want to talk about it, then let’s talk. Last night was... unexpected, yeah. But it doesn’t have to mean anything unless we decide it does. If you want to chalk it up to a drunken mistake, fine. I won’t hold it against you.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Vi,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, “I don’t think it was a mistake. I don’t… regret it.” Her eyes widened slightly, and she tilted her head as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. “But I also know we can’t afford to let this become a problem. The band, the label—there’s too much at stake.”

Vi was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through her hair. “You’re such a perfectionist, you know that? Always worrying about the ‘big picture.’ Sometimes, you just gotta live a little.”

“Living a little is what got us into this mess,” you shot back, though your voice had lost its edge.

“Fine,” she said, her tone light but carrying a weight that wasn’t lost on you. “We’ll keep it professional. I promise.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach. Something about the way she said it didn’t sit right, as if her words carried an unspoken challenge.

The rest of the flight passed in strained silence, though Vi’s presence next to you was impossible to ignore. Every accidental brush of her arm against yours sent a ripple through your entire body. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts of the future—the meeting with the label, the potential single, the career you’d spent years chasing. But no matter how hard you tried to push forward, your mind kept circling back to her.

The memories hit you in waves, sharp and vivid. Vi’s arm brushed yours, and suddenly you were back in the elevator, her hands gripping your arms as you kissed your way down her neck. The low, guttural sound she made when you found her pulse point echoed in your mind, impossible to shake. You heard her sigh in frustration as she struggled with a packet of peanuts, and your brain betrayed you with the memory of her other frustrated sounds—breathless and needy, muffled against your skin as she —

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you desperately tried to stay grounded. You were going insane. How were you supposed to keep this professional when every single part of her was burned into your mind? The way she looked at you last night, the feel of her hands on your skin, the taste of her lips—it was all too much.

The truth was unavoidable. You were completely, hopelessly in trouble. And if Vi noticed your internal struggle, she didn’t show it. She just sat there, casually munching on her peanuts, completely at ease while you felt like you were unraveling.

Being professional was already proving to be far more difficult than you had anticipated.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter five

notes: my birthday was yesterday, officially 22!! anyways, here is a new chapter, there isn’t anything explicit (but it will come!!!) but it’s a kickstart to stir things 😋

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh

[httpsdana]

Hey could you write something where reader have to meets pau cubarsi's friends since they are together but she's shy and she's anxious they'll find her not enough for him but it ends well

(I love your stories theyre so cool<3)

First Impressions~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

“Isn't it gonna be weird that I know basically everything about them and they have no idea who I am?” y/n asked, nervously tapping her fingers on Pau’s thigh.

Pau sighed while Irene chuckled from the driver's seat.

“They know who you are, bebé,” he said, grabbing her hand to stop her from fidgeting.

“They probably know the color of your socks too,” Irene said, making y/n look at Pau with wide eyes.

“What?” she asked, waiting for Pau to explain.

A red blush crept onto his cheeks as he rolled his eyes at his sister's words.

“Just shut up and drive, Irene,” he grumbled as his sister burst into laughter, while his girlfriend looked at him cluelessly.

“I need to get my license as soon as possible,” he mumbled more to himself, but y/n heard him, which made her chuckle.

Still, it didn't help ease the nerves she was feeling. Pau noticed she was quieter than usual and knew she was nervous about meeting his friends, though she wouldn't admit it.

“You okay, guapa ?” he asked, his eyes studying her features.

She only hummed in response, looking out of the window to avoid the topic. But as soon as she pulled her lips between her teeth, Pau knew something else was on her mind.

He gently grabbed her chin, turning her head to meet her gaze.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing her chin.

“It's just...” She sighed, trying to look anywhere but at him. “What if they think you deserve better?"

Pau raised his eyebrows, surprised by her confession.

“Better?” he repeated, his thumb moving to her cheekbone. She nodded slowly, meeting his pretty eyes again.

“There’s no better for me, cariño. You’re the best for me,” he said softly, his thumb continuing its gentle motion against her cheek.

“We're here!” Irene cheered, turning back to look at the couple.

“You okay?” she asked y/n when she noticed her pale face.

y/n gave her a small smile and nodded before Pau got out of the car, offering her his hand.

She took it immediately, not letting go when she stepped out of the car.

“I’ll call you when we’re done,” Pau told his sister, who shook her head in response.

“No way. I’m going to see my boyfriend and spending the night at his. Let one of your friends drop you two off or something,” she shrugged. Before Pau had the chance to reply, she had already driven off.

Pau turned to his girlfriend, who was holding his hand tightly.

“They’re gonna love you. I promise,” he whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She gave him her best smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Pau smiled softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

“Come on, princesa.”

The two of them stepped into the fancy restaurant. While Pau asked about their table, y/n looked around nervously, only to meet the eyes of the one and only Lamine Yamal.

She tightened her grip on Pau’s arm, trying to hide behind him. His eyes followed her gaze, and he smiled when he spotted his friends.

He began walking toward their table, y/n trailing behind him, careful not to let go of his hand.

“Pau, hermano, we’ve been waiting for like half an hour now,” Lamine teased, standing to hug him.

Pau chuckled and turned to y/n.

“Sorry, someone took their sweet time getting ready today.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed at his words, still not saying a word.

“I’m Lamine,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.

“y/n,” she replied in a low voice, shaking his hand hesitantly.

Hector, who was still seated, chuckled softly.

Her stomach dropped at the sound, suddenly feeling self-conscious, thinking he might be laughing at her.

“Trust me, we know who you are. Hector,” he said politely, standing to shake her hand.

She exhaled softly, feeling slightly more at ease.

The couple sat down as the three boys dove into their own conversation. y/n enjoyed the quiet, but mostly, she loved seeing Pau so enthusiastic around his friends. His hand rested gently on her thigh, giving it occasional squeezes to check on her.

“So, y/n...” Lamine started, drawing her attention in surprise.

She hadn’t expected them to talk to her, assuming she was just Pau’s quiet plus-one.

“I actually have no idea how to start a conversation with you. Your boyfriend has told us almost everything about you,” he teased, making Pau roll his eyes. The blush creeping up Pau’s neck gave him away.

“Oh, he has?” she asked, her earlier worry melting into a smile as she glanced at her boyfriend.

“Yep,” Hector joined in. “So... have your parents finally agreed to get your little sister a dog?”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh, turning to Pau as he buried his face in his hands.

After that, her nerves eased more and more. Hector and Lamine were incredibly kind and included her in their conversation as much as possible. She no longer felt judged like she feared.

When dinner ended, Pau excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving y/n with Hector and Lamine.

“As much as Pau talks about you, I didn’t imagine you’d be this amazing,” Lamine said, making her smile.

“You deserve to be with Pau, really. I’ve never seen him smile as wide as when he’s talking about you. It’s almost sickening,” Hector added, making her laugh.

“You guys are sweet. I was so nervous to meet you,” she confessed, earning chuckles from the two boys.

“Do we really look that mean?” Lamine joked.

“You? Not much. Hector, definitely,” she teased, making them both laugh again.

Pau watched them from afar, relieved to see his girlfriend finally at ease.

“Ready to go?” he asked as he returned to the table.

The three nodded, but then Pau remembered they didn’t have a ride.

“You’re dropping us off,” he said, pointing at Hector.

“I hate having a car,” Hector muttered, making the others laugh.

As they made their way to his car, Pau held his girlfriend close, kissing the top of her head.

“I hope you enjoyed your night, bebé,” he murmured into her hair.

She looked up at him with a smile, pulling his face down for a quick kiss.

“I did,” she whispered.

Their moment was interrupted by Lamine’s teasing voice.

“Ay, save the kissing for when you’re in the car!”

Pau rolled his eyes playfully as y/n giggled beside him.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, kissing the side of her head.

“I love you more, cariño.”

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[criswritessometimes]

quick break

contents - kissing, clit play, grinding, if you squint a little degrading and praise, smut

authors note // based off of this post by @fanficfox !! 18+ under break!!

you hear schlatt screaming from his office about rooms he was reviewing on stream. “that’s fuckin’ nasty man! nah we’re breaking a break after that, i gotta piss.” he says to his camera as he takes his headphones off and puts them on his desk. he walks out to find you on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, playing a game on your ipad. he walks up to the back of the sofa, looking over you, “hey toots, you look comfy.” you smile up at him, “i am, how’s the stream?” schlatt walks around the couch to sit down with you for a minute. it doesn’t take him long for his hands to creep onto your thigh and trace patterns. his eyes look down at the connection, “it’s fine, i guess. i feel like i could be putting my time to better things.” his eyes dart up to yours, then back down, “but it’s fine gotta pay the bills.” you chuckle, “jay, i can always pick up extra shif-” he cuts you off by kissing you. his hand on your thigh moves to your inner thigh and closer to your core as his other hand holds your head by your jaw and neck. “but you look so pretty all comfy like this doll.” he whispers to you as he starts to hover over you to get to you lay down.

you start to feel lightheaded as his fingers begin to rub your folds through your pants, and his mouth starts to leave kisses from your mouth to your neck sucking and pulling on the skin lightly. “hmmm, jay what about stream.” you whimper out. his mouth breaks from your neck as he looks at you and says, “what about ‘em?” at the last word, you feel his hand move to your underwear over the hem. your eyes go wide as he starts to play with your clit. “oh my sweet baby, always so wet after i kiss your neck, yeah?” schlatt whispers in your neck as his hand continues. you throw your head back in pleasure as you hold onto his shoulders, and your legs start to widen. “please jay, please go faster, need more pressure.” you beg him as your hips begin to buck to meet his finger. “but i wanna play with you for a bit longer love.” his voice is dripping in sweetness, as to tell you he’s doing this for you and not because he needs a break. “please baby. need your fingers in me and your tongue on my clit.” you beg out again, trying to plea to get more stimulation. schlatt’s shocked you can still form sentences as his eyebrows jump, “oh wow, we can still make sentences, i guess you can get my fingers.”

his hand moves down slightly as you can feel his pointer and ring finger at your entrance. “so wet for me, so good, doll.” he kisses your jaw as his fingers slowly sink into you. your face relaxes as you can feel each knuckle going in, then out, then in again. schlatt feels your grip release from his shoulder, “yeah, feeling good?” you nod, your teeth holding your lip to hold back your moans. you can feel your orgasm threatening to take over and schlatt notices too. “gonna cum? come on cum all over my fingers, toots. “yeah, please let me cum, please, baby.” you beg him. “aw, so good to ask; go ahead, doll. cum all over my fingers.” he encourages. you let your orgasm tighten and relax your body all at once, your head is thrown back, and your eyes are screwed shut. however, you can hear schlatt unbuckle his belt and the zipper on his jeans. 

right as you're about to look back up at him, “oh shit, i gotta get back to stream.” he scrambles off you, kisses your forehead, and fixes his pants while rushing back to his office. he sits back down as the chat is cheering for his return. he puts his headphones back on, “hey guys, sorry for the long break jambo threw up and i had to clean the couch real quick and throw a blanket in the wash. lets get back to looking at your disgusting rooms.” he eyes the chat as he’s going through the drive.

whaletail: aww poor jambo :(

cashewdeznuts: JAMBOOOO NOOOOO

firefoxy69: wait didnt schlatt say a while a go jambo never throws up??

[yunholic-jongholic]

Control and Chaos | C.JH x Reader

SUMMARY | You are going out in public with a remote-controlled vibrator. Your boyfriend, Jongho, the little piece of shit he is, has a good time going through the various settings and watching you squirm in your seat and try to act normal.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | One Shot, SMUT, NSFW, Toy kink, Teasing, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex (Don't do this fellas), Masterbation, Slight Car sex, Pet names, Dirty Talk, Explicit Content (I might have missed some... so be warned!)

WORD COUNT | 1.5k

AUTHOR NOTE | Y'all don't know how obsessed I am with this man. I have like 4 drafts of Jongho fics in the making because I am insane. ANYWAYS this is for my Ribo Sister-Wives! Enjoy!

•

"It's not my fault you lost the bet," Jongho teased, snickering at your frustration. You groaned in irritation, dreading the outcome of the bet. Desperate, you begged him to let you off the hook, but he only made it worse with a single sentence.

"Let’s go out for lunch!" Jongho smirked, handing you the toy with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut, your eyes practically throwing daggers his way. With a huff, you sat on the bed and reluctantly picked up the toy. Meanwhile, he headed downstairs, patiently waiting for you to hurry up. You slid your skirt down and pushed the toy inside you. You put your clothes back on and run downstairs.

Jongho wraps an arm around you, guiding you outside toward the car. Once you decide on a destination, he drives you to a nearby cafe, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Which, when you both arrive and sit down, is when Jongho turns the toy on. You gasp out lightly, face turning hot, and you cover your mouth, not wanting to be loud.

"Jongho.." You breathed, almost moaning his name. He smirks in response, seeing you completely helpless and embarrassed. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" Jongho extends his hand toward you, silently inviting you to take it. Reluctantly, you place your hand in his, digging your nails into his palm as you focus on your breathing—inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly—until the tension within you begins to subside. You already were soaking up in your seat.

"You know what you want?" Jongho teases. You cross your legs and nod, trying to keep normal. He stares lovingly into your eyes. You shift your legs and let go of his hand. He watches you as you try to remain calm. Soon the waiter comes by and takes both of your orders, while you start telling the waiter your order Jongho turns up the control on the toy causing you to let out a whine. You immediately covered your mouth coughing trying to play it off.

"That... will be all, thank you!" you manage to blurt out, your voice shaky as you try to act natural, silently praying the waiter doesn’t think you’re weird. Jongho sees your struggling and you shift your legs again trying to get comfortable. you practically hum trying to cover up your moans. You get up and tell Jongho you are going to go to the bathroom.

"You better not going in there to masterbate." Jongho warns you. You roll your eyes and ruffle his hair.

"Well between you and I, I am about to cum on that seat, so I rather do it in private." You whisper to his ear, and he goes silent just staring at you. You see him get up and he whispers back, "Y/N, you are not allowed to go off in private. That is against your punishment on the bet." You look away trying to hold your moans in telling him you don't care anymore, but it's too late.

You felt your stomach go into knots as you ran to the seat practically grinding on it. You cover your mouth moaning into it, legs trembling as you came. Jongho stares at you in shock, completely not expecting you to be that loud. You looked down seeing him already getting hard.

"I need to go somewhere private... Please Jongho." you start begging him feeling completely aroused. Jongho just stares at you still shocked as he covers his lap with the clothed napkin. He shakes it off and soon your food arrives. You don't even want to eat anymore.

"Y/N, you got to keep going. you got 2 hours left." Jongho appreciates you for even going on this far, but you can't do anymore. You felt overstimulated already and begged for him to at least turn it down and he does what you ask.

After eating, he drives you to get ice cream. You keep trembling as the overestimated feeling grows more and more. Jongho offers to share with you as you sit together on a nearby bench. Your stomach twists into knots once again. You grip the armrest tightly, trying to steady yourself. Jongho immediately turned it on high, seeing your reaction. You threw your head to the side, grinding down, and soon you came again. You felt incredibly soaked and sensitive. You whined, begging him just to take you home.

"Please, Jongho! I am begging you... I need to get home and be fucked!" You leaned in close, your voice sharp as you snapped a whisper into his ear, nearly moaning his name. You saw him get hard again this time, not able to cover it up. He curses softly and grips your arm, taking you back to the car.

"Can I take it out now?" You moan rubbing your inner thigh, looking at him desperately. He gulps in telling you no. You whine and have the perfect idea to tease him now when he is driving. You lift your skirt and rub your two fingers over your soaked panties moaning his name.

"Jongho..." You moan out. Jongho sees what you are doing, and his breath hitches seeing you touch yourself.

"Stop it. You are not allowed to touch yourself until we get in bed." Jongho sternly speaks out. You don't listen and moan pulling your panties to the side.

"You can't make me stop... You are driving." You tease wiggling in your seat, getting comfortable. Jongho groans, and you see his bulge showing. You decide to talk dirty to him as you play with yourself.

"Y/N. Stop it or you will not be fucked." Jongho hisses as he glances at you now paling his pants. You smirk, pressing down and rubbing your hand on his bulge. He moans out and slaps your hand away.

"Fucking damn it Y/N." Jongho curses and you just hum in response. You both finally arrive home, and you slip your skirt over your thighs again and playfully run inside, Jongho right behind you. He immediately grips your waist when you go to the room and pins you against the door, closing it. You gasp, feeling his bulge rubbing against your thighs. He immediately starts making out with you ripping your clothes off.

"Who is the needy one now?" You gasp for air laughing teasingly. He holds onto you as you both continue to make out, his tongue sliding into your mouth fighting over dominance. Tongues tangled into each other as he finally pulled the vibrator toy out of you. You moan softly as he holds it and turns it off. The toy is completely covered in your slick.

"Fuck." He curses dis-attaching his lips away from yours as he throws the toy off and unzips his pants springing his already hard cock free. You whimper, wanting to be touched again. Jongho takes you to the bed, giving his cock a few strokes.

"Fucking hurry up!" You hiss. Jongho groans as his tip pushes into your entrance. You moan feeling extremely sensitive but aroused still. "I need you to pound into me." You begin to grind your hips on him, making you take him deeper.

"Fuck... you are still fucking wet..." Jongho moans as he starts moving. You grip and dig your nails into the sheets below you. "You feel so much better than the stupid toy" you comment whimpering at how overly sensitive you are almost cumming right there. Jongho starts thrusting in harder and faster, causing you to throw your head back, biting your lip and digging your nails into the sheets. He groans, lifting your leg over his shoulder and gripping onto it. You feel his tip kiss your overly sensitive sweet spot, causing your moans to get higher. Jongho knew that's where he needed to hit, and he continued to thrust in that direction.

"Jongho I'm so fucking close!" You huff moaning loudly sliding your hand over your cunt placing a finger over your clit rubbing circles. Jongho pushes your hand away and does it himself. You throw your head back, gripping his wrists, becoming a mess underneath him.

"I love you so fucking much" you look into his eyes a complete mess. He thrusts into you and leans down to kiss your neck, leaving marks on your skin.

"Please... I'm so close!" You dig your nails leaving marks in his wrists as he rubs circles going harder on your clit. "Come with me, baby..." he whispers in your ear, causing you to tip over the edge. You moan loudly nearly screaming as you squirt on his cock. He soon cums in you after you. You pant heavily as he pulls out. He sits beside you, seeing how much of a mess he made out of you.

"I love you so much." You whisper, panting, and he smiles, kissing your lips softly before saying it back.

"We should do another challenge tomorrow!" he teases with a playful grin, though you have a sinking feeling he’s not entirely joking.

•

Good night. Make sure to like and repost if you enjoyed it! I am also still welcome to take recommendations! -N

[lazy-active-me]

I did lose it time and time again…

It started when I slowly fell in love with you, without knowing what it was…

I regained it when we were together, for the first two years…

I lost it at the end… when I noticed that I was less and less important to you, when I noticed, that the presence of others where more important to you, than mine…

I lost it over time trying to rebuild my trust in you after you apologized, but did not really want to change… when you made it my fault for not trusting you… even though you struck our bond…

I lost it again after I noticed the same thing happening again… you blaming me… again…

And then I lost everything… after you finally left… but still not being totally honest…

I lost my vast ocean of discoveries, my ground beneath my feet, my calming blue sky above, my everything beyond. I lost my always… I lost the one person that I love… more than anything else… that I love more than any idea I had… the one I wanted to give everything, the one I would leave everything for, the one for who I would have waged a war for…

And I lost even more… I lost myself… I lost my past, my present, my future… I lost my wishes, I lost my connection, my confidence, my appetite, my curiosity, my will to live on… I lost my strength and I feel like I can not move on.

But I can see you are happy writing a new song…

I can tell that you won’t give me a real answer, of why you did not tell me, what was going on.

I can tell that you still do not want to admit your feelings in front of me anymore. The only thing that you told me, is that you don’t love me romantically anymore… but I can tell… that you don’t even know.. that you don’t know how to talk to me anymore… since you did to me, what he did to you… You became the very person, that you did leave before you met me… maybe not the part of being stuck with money and drug problems… Since you stopped that with me… maybe not the part of being stuck with a job, for we worked together on that. I did encourage you, brought snacks, made sure that you can talk with me, that I listen, that I ask you questions and help you learn, that I help you relax. That I am there… I know my behavior is inconsistent when it comes to my energy levels for my own sake… when it comes to getting forward in life, to get a new job, be organized and progressing overall…. But instead of talking with me and finding out what was going on. You resented me… More and more… And I was judged harder and harder… I had only one wish… and that was to live with you. I did not care about a fancy job… but you would always judge me for it. I did not care about external rewards… I cared about you… I was ok with you becoming more distant with my family and had to defend you in front of them, when you started to give me more and more judgement for spending time on them. Even though you were the one I was spending most of time on. I defended you when you made really harsh comments about bran… when they judged you for not driving me out to them… I always was passionate about you, I tried to keep a spark alive that you at one point did not value the way you used to…

In the end it feels like everything was always about you… Especially since Seata is gone you slowly drifted away further and further from us as a couple…

And no matter what I did nothing could stop it… it feels like I always only made things worse… I guess I should have gone the first time when you broke my trust… when you already felt like this won’t last but you wanted it to last… when you said you don’t know how to make it better but you don’t want to change the way you interact with people… when you still wanted to keep flirting in a way, but did not dare to tell me about it… but I guess no matter what… it still was a disrespectful thing towards me… for sometimes it was not jokingly…

And Sebastian… I don’t think he kissed you out of nowhere… my love you did at least let him feel like there is a chance in some way…. so don’t step on my few leftovers of trust in you too many times…

You knew what you were doing… and I saw many more things… I am good at reading basic feelings of people that are important to me.

As you will always be, even though I am not to you anymore…

[dock57]

Do I Choose to be Embarrassing Today? Perhaps.

[Well, possibly embarrassing for me to say out loud. I am, a shy fan, not going to lie- so often I don't really post a lot about what I love about a series. I often sit in the back, trying to find the perfect moment to escape through the back door before anyone can see how flustered I can get. This blog is the first fan blog I have ever made.

Anyway, this was not exactly what I was planning on talking about today, but, now its on my mind, consuming it.

Monkey Wrench is an adult show. An adult show I appreciate that gives us characters I would absolutely take on a date as well. I am a hopeless romantic...

So where am I going with this? I'm going to list what I find attractive, like, and reasons why I would date Beebs or Shrike.

Only those two, because they're the ones I would date the most. Everyone has their different tastes and attractions, so don't think I am saying that the others are not dateable, that would be a lie. Just two are my taste.

Shrike still needs work, let's be honest. I do mean in character development as well. Shrike as I would describe right now is going through his "rebellious" phase at a later age. He's the type I would be interested in, but, would really encourage to clean up his act before he considers a deeper bond, no one is going to fix him, that's his own work, and he needs to realize that before he thinks of going into a committed relationship. If he does.

The funny thing about my interest in Shrike- is that physical appearance wise- I am not really attracted to. I like to call Shrike my only "Twink Husband." Because he is. Though, I also would not really call him a typical twink either- A twink is more than just the looks.

Really it is Shrike's character that attracts me.

Shrike is humorous. Yes as a character he is supposed to be. He does end up usually being the one to be the end of a joke. I know there are times when Shrikes tries to be funny, and times when he is not- but I cannot help but to find Shrike cute when he is accidently funny. I find most of the time that Shrike focuses too hard on being someone he is not- and the times when he is more himself, are the times I think that when he is funny- in a good way. I mean let's be honest, anyone who is being themselves, is way better than being who they are not, especially if being themselves is harmless. I also would like to add that Shrike can make some pretty funny jokes at time. I think of the one when Beebs and Shrike are caught up by everyone in Ghost Egg at the Shuttle Station. I know there might be better examples, but I find what he said here to be funny to me.

I also need to add this part when they arrive to the station and Shrike is strolling along like this. In general, Shrike is just a goofy fellow, sometimes I wonder if he knows that.

2. I love when he is passionate about what he loves. This can be done to an extreme, but I think Shrike's passion is just the right amount of being healthy. I love how Shrike is passionate about what he holds close to him- I like that in people. I think not having a deep passion in interests can be a bit concerning, as I feel like that there could be an issue of being passionate to another as well. I enjoy the moments when Shrike speak about his interests and the excitement in his voice for them. I think that Shrike can also slowly learn to become passionate for others in their interests, even at the end of Us & Them when Shrike tries to attempt to play his acoustic guitar again for Beebs.

3. Is Shrike caring? Its in process. Shrike is considered to be selfish and pretty irresponsible. This is something I cannot turn blind to. He uses the company's money on irresponsible costs such as the Bucket becoming red, and of course blowing it at the Casino.As for being selfish, it usually is for when he looking for any opportunity to get money, which, doing favors and expecting money from it, is a selfish desire. Such as when in Us & Them, they response to the distress call. Beebs says "We should check it out-" Shrike points to Beebs' wrist and says "There could be money in it for us~"

You can also say he is selfish in Lythop Liberation as well, as Shrike only seem to start going after Dr. Agnes after she throws his Ship. As he does say "Grind up an entire species on your own time! But when you wreck MY ship... IT GETS PERSONAL!" Though, at the same time, Shrike does care about them being grinded beforehand as well as Shrike does shout out "WH-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN'?" after they were put in the blender. This is why I say he is caring, but in process- it is definitely something he is starting to develop. I think Shrike is a caring person but does not show it really from the outside. I think he does it more through motives. I mean, I would love to do a post more in-depth about this scene in particular, but

The tension, the expression. This is what I mean when I think Shrike does care. He does try to help. But, he doesn't always make the right choice to do so. Shrike does respect Beebs and really has shown to care about him. Even earlier in the episode in Plague Walkers when Shrike is at the bar with Ricket- he only praised Beebs.

I believe that Shrike can become a caring person, I think as of right now, he needs the right push and motivation to do so. So although a process, a caring guy? Who starts to think about others and their interests too? Yeah I think that's a good trait to have.

As of right now, Shrike is a loser. A very lovable loser. One who I also love because I think Shrike might be the type to reflect on himself as time goes on and be open to change as it continues in the series.

Or, that's what I wish for- who knows?

Well then you have Beebs.

Beebs is definitely more of my type when it comes to physical attraction. I like the bigger guys, but its so rare to find good ones in media...

I appreciate Monkey Wrench for going with the approach of Beebs not being the stereotype for fat characters, especially fatter males. Usually they're the ones to be the joke in the end of the day, and not good jokes I might add, usually referring to their shape. Other times, usually fatter males are also just either the evil character arch types or the annoying ones, making them even more unappealing.

So Beebs is such a nice fresh of breath air from media. I have no idea if the creators were even trying, but they did make Beebs attractive, and as I said, not just physically, but as a character as well. I am so glad that Beebs breaks the norm for fatter males.

Oh that's a Caring man, all right. Oh we all know that Beebs is caring, as well as being sentimental. There are so many examples where Beebs shows it. Even if Norbert was annoying, Beebs cared about how they present themselves to him, especially when Shrike was threating to shoot him- Beebs tried to be reasonable and take the time to understand Norbert. Of course in Lythops Liberation, we know he cares about those little guys and what happened to Punti. We know even in Us & Them, that Beebs through out the whole episode tried so hard to think about others, not just their wellbeing but even their feelings as well.

Even though Us could have propose as a threat, Beebs took the time to know them first before making a judgement call- he tries to see the best in everyone. He cares to listen first, he cares about others and shows it through words and actions as well. I love that so much in a man- I think that's something everyone can agree is something that everyone should be.

2. Strong. I know I know, a overrated one. But look, I love me a strong man, especially when the strong type is. done right. I am not going to go over in details about how being physically strong in media is portrayed often incorrectly. Because what we are taught to be "strong" is not the strong you want. Now, will say that not all larger males are just magically strong, its a combination that often overlook. Beebs is the combination of fat and muscle that actually creates a strong character physically. He is what strong is. Of course he is strong as well when it comes to mentally. I give Beebs an applaud for not losing it yet... I bet it is exhausting. He has a good head on his shoulders and manages to keep it together in the most stressful of situations. But he also is strong when it comes to not reacting as well, or returning a reaction. Such as in Plague Walkers when Ajax wanted Beebs to turn back for what he said about his mother- and I KNOW Beebs was really the urge, he still managed to walk away and leave until Ajax comes after him. Though, every strong man- I hope knows- need a time to break down and let it out too...

You Know- You Know...

3. Responsible. And a good thing to counter Shrike who right now- is not. Really who doesn't like a responsible person? Not just getting tasks done, but even when it comes to admitting their mistakes, flaws, or actions. Beebs has been through a lot, and although he is not sure where he fits in the galaxy, Beebs has learn a lot already. From what I watch, I think Beebs has experience of what its like to see when his actions catch up, or when to take up on a task and not. He also questions or steps in when he knows what should be done and not, such as when Dr. Agnes blended the Lythops. Even though Mercs are not suppose to ask questions, Beebs definitely knows when its time to step in and decide between what is morally right and wrong. It is a bit hard to say what happened to Beebs and in his past, but he definitely carries whatever he did with regret, and knows that even he's not 100% clean himself. For all we know, he might be wanting to try and kindle that past, or not, even if running away can be seen as irresponsible, I think Beebs had a good reason, and a reason that may have been a question of moral choices. I think what I am trying to say is that, I find that Beebs is self aware of his own character and is also trying to improve himself as well. Beebs know he is flawed, and is trying to work on himself as well. I like that in a guy...

Beebs also has some work to do, but at least he is aware of it. Still though, I love Beebs and how they did such a good job at making him attractive, despite not being the particular and common types that would draw attention. Beebs is attractive for overall just being a really well thought out character who has good morals and traits, something that be rare to find...

Well, that was a long post. I'm going to now hide behind this screen by putting Tumblr off to side where I can't see it for now. Hope you guys, enjoy! And tell me if there is anything else that you guys think also makes them dateable...]

[luxcuriousao3]

Selfish (Ghoap)

Summary: Ghost stares up at Johnny, heart racing in his chest like he’s just run twenty klicks through enemy territory. His ears are ringing, Johnny’s words echoing in his mind. His sergeant is so close to the truth. Ghost is nothing but a beast, a dog on a tight leash. Price points, and Ghost attacks. It’s been that way since he was reborn in the ashes of his old life. He snaps and snarls at anyone who gets too close, wears his mask like a muzzle to keep everyone at bay. But Johnny has never feared him. Not like he should. Word Count: 3067 Warnings: non-graphic smut, kinda toxic relationship tbh but it's not intentional or out of cruelty, possessive behavior, jealousy, angst/hurt no comfort, mentions of drinking/smoking Notes: Finally compiled all those angsty Ghoap blurbs into a proper fic. I polished them up and added a little bit more to the end, but they are mostly the same. This fic definitely works as an (angsty) standalone, but I may or may not continue this. If I do, it will have a happy ending eventually, but it will also be a "it gets worse before it gets better" type of fic, lol. I do have part of a second chapter written already, but I am only going to post it if I actually decide to finish this fic in long form. All SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! - *** means POV switch, and -*- means timeskip but no POV switch - AO3, Masterlist

“What are we doing, Simon?”

Soap regrets the words the minute they’re out of his mouth, already guessing how Ghost will react—but he’s apparently not only a masochist in bed, so he doesn’t take them back. Ghost is quiet for a brief moment, shoulders tensing up as he stands with his back to Soap, clad in nothing but a pair of briefs, muscular form outlined by the light from his private toilet. Soap is still in Ghost’s bunk, naked as the day he was born, sweaty and covered in both his and his Lieutenant’s come. Ghost never cleans him up, just tosses him the towel after he’s done using it, before dismissing him from his room like they’d just had a briefing and not sex. Soap tries not to let that bother him. He really does. He fails, but at least he keeps it from showing. Usually.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Johnny.”

Ghost’s voice is flat when he speaks, but there’s a hint of a warning in it. He’s giving Soap a chance to walk back his words. He’s giving him an out.

Soap, as he so often does, barrels on ahead anyway.

“This. Us. What are we, to you?”

The words hang heavily in the air, and slowly, Ghost turns around to face him. His face, for once uncovered by his mask—a sight Soap only gets to see in these private moments between them, a sight he cherishes—is blank, eyes dark and cold like onyx.

“We are teammates,” Ghost replies, low and intense. “Colleagues that fuck each other to relieve stress, every once in awhile. Don’t make this into something that it’s not, MacTavish.”

Soap swallows, mouth dry, throat still sore from the beating Ghost’s cock had given it. Normally, Soap enjoys that, savoring the roughness, the degradation—but most of all, savoring the reminder of his time with the other man. Now, it just makes him feel hollow.

“Right then, Sir,” Soap says, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He doesn’t bother to wait for Simon to throw him the towel clenched in his white-knuckled fist, wiping himself off on his Lieutenant’s sheets. It’s petty, but Soap is desperate to leave—and the spark of irritation in Ghost’s stony eyes is satisfying. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You need it again, and this is done, Sergeant,” Ghost warns, grabbing Soap’s clothes and tossing them at him hard, in retaliation for the sheets and just as eager for Soap to get the fuck out of his room, probably. Or maybe he just can’t stand the thought of not throwing something at Soap after fucking him. Bastard. “Understood?”

“Copy,” Soap responds as he stands up, clipped. He pulls on his jeans and t-shirt in silence, Ghost’s glare feeling like a physical thing as it burns holes into the side of his head. Soap ignores it as best he can, but his cheeks are flush with humiliation and anger simmers just beneath his skin. He knows he shouldn’t have asked. He knew what Ghost would say when he did. But Soap is a bloody fool that’s gone and fallen for the most emotionally constipated fuck in the entire SAS—and he’s never been able to leave well enough alone.

The worst part is that as hurt as Soap feels right now, as pissed off as he is at Ghost—he knows he’ll go crawling back to him. He won’t put an end to this like he should, won’t protect his stupidly fragile heart. He couldn’t if he wanted to—it already belongs to Ghost. And Soap doesn’t think he can ever get it back.

So he’ll put up with the coldness and the callousness. He’ll put up with being held at arm's length, never being allowed inside Ghost’s walls even when he’s literally inside Soap. He’ll put up with the hollowness in his chest and the curl of shame in his belly when he’s kicked out of Ghost’s bed time and time again, never allowed so much as a five minute cuddle.

It’s fucking pathetic, but Soap’ll take whatever he can get.

He’s a big boy. He can handle some hurt feelings.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself as he leaves Ghost’s room, the door slamming shut behind him the second he crosses the threshold.

***

Things are tense for a few days between him and Johnny.

Ghost has his guard up, walls freshly reinforced. His Sergeant had thoroughly unsettled Ghost with his questions, and for days, his skin feels like it's crawling everytime the other man is near. Ghost doesn’t let people get close, and Johnny is no exception.

Except that’s not quite true, and that’s what scares him.

Somehow, Johnny’s wormed his way into Ghost’s life with that obnoxiously charming grin and his stupid fucking mohawk. He’s gotten closer to Ghost than any other living person, and instead of pushing him away, Ghost pushed him into his bloody bed instead.

He thinks about ending it, in the days following their last conversation. Seeks out Johnny once at their smoke spot to do just that—but he can’t bring himself to do it. And he knows that’s a problem, that he’s in too deep, that he needs to make a tactical retreat and regroup.

Instead, he offers Johnny a cigarette, and ignores the way his heart squeezes in his chest as he’s graced with the first smile he’s gotten in days from the other man.

Ghost should end things, he knows that. But he doesn’t.

He’s always been a selfish bastard.

And so they fall back into rhythm with each other, at least on missions. They’re as deadly and efficient as always, bantering on comms like usual. But a certain sense of wrongness lingers when they’re on base, no longer avoiding each other or even refraining from tumbling into bed together—but Ghost notices it nonetheless. Johnny isn’t constantly at Ghost’s side anymore, bothering him with his endless chatter and poorly hidden desire for attention. The look in his eyes when he does talk to Ghost is less intense, too, less painfully open and bright. More befitting of a soldier speaking with his superior. When they fuck, he no longer tries to linger in Ghost’s room, doesn’t even wait for Ghost to get a towel for him, just stands up and limps over to the toilet to grab it himself. At first, Ghost is glad—his sergeant got the message loud and clear, and didn’t even throw too much of a fit about it. They can remain in this limbo of close-but-not-too-close. Ghost doesn’t have to give this up, give Johnny up, in order to keep them both safe. And Johnny doesn’t even seem upset anymore—yeah, he’s a little more distant, but that’s a good thing. He was reaching the edges of what Ghost could tolerate anyway, and now things are back to a blessed normal.

Except that the longer it goes on, the more Ghost misses how things were before.

The silence that used to be filled with Johnny’s rambling starts to feel oppressive, the space at his side where his sergeant should always be is now glaringly empty. The grins Johnny gives him are still large but don’t look quite the same. The shine in his blue eyes has dulled just a tad, no longer so blinding that it makes Ghost feel like the centre of their own tiny universe.

Ghost has no right to miss them, all those little things he’d taken for granted before. He knows that. But just like he knows he shouldn’t continue whatever it is between him and Johnny, he does so anyway.

He never voices any of these thoughts, of course, but the next time they fuck, Ghost doesn’t roll off of Johnny right away once he comes. He lays on top of him for a long moment, pinning him to the bed so he can’t get up and run like he’s taken to doing. Both of them are sweaty and breathing hard, and Ghost watches Johnny’s dark brows furrow in confusion as the seconds stretch on. He starts to shift underneath him, like he’s about to push Ghost off of him, out of him, and Ghost, he—

He snaps, a little bit.

That’s the only explanation for what he does next, sinking his teeth into his sergeant’s shoulder and holding on, like a dog with a bone. He wants to break Johnny’s skin, to taste blood and scar him, to tie them together in a way that no amount of distance can ever erase.

Instead, he gets an elbow to the face and a furious Scot cursing him out in something just to the left of English.

“Ye fuckin’ bampot!” Johnny shouts at Ghost, who’s nursing his bloody nose on the floor, arse-naked. The other man is standing now, one hand pressed to his shoulder, the other gesturing angrily in his direction. “The fuck is wrong wi’ ye? Cannae just bloody bite me like some mad beast!”

Ghost stares up at Johnny, heart racing in his chest like he’s just run twenty klicks through enemy territory. His ears are ringing, Johnny’s words echoing in his mind. His sergeant is so close to the truth. Ghost is nothing but a beast, a dog on a tight leash. Price points, and Ghost attacks. It’s been that way since he was reborn in the ashes of his old life. He snaps and snarls at anyone who gets too close, wears his mask like a muzzle to keep everyone at bay. But Johnny has never feared him. Not like he should.

And now Ghost is faced with the consequences of his royally fucked up head and cold heart once again. He gives Johnny a careless shrug, getting to his feet.

“Got carried away,” he offers as a lame sort of explanation, voice thick from the blood dripping into the back of his throat. He carefully feels his nose. Not broken, but it’ll bruise like rotten fruit. “You got me good. We’re even.”

Johnny stares at him for a long moment, too many emotions flickering across his face for Ghost to name them all. But he does recognize anger—anger and hurt, and his chest tightens at that. He doesn’t want to hurt Johnny, keeps his distance so he doesn’t hurt him. Regret settles heavily in Ghost’s stomach. This is what happens when he gives in, when he allows himself to get too close. This is what he’s tried so hard to avoid.

Because Ghost doesn’t know how to love, how to be gentle or treasure someone like Johnny deserves, like Ghost knows he wants. This is the most he can give him. Not love, never love, but a violent sort of possession that could look like love, in the right lighting.

And Ghost knows his sergeant. Knows how stubbornly loyal he is, how self-sacrificing. He will never walk away, never retreat entirely. He’ll growl and snarl right back at Ghost, he’ll put up a few flimsy walls of his own—but he’ll still let Ghost hurt him.

Ghost doesn’t want to hurt him.

“You’re a real bastard, LT,” Johnny snaps, snatching his clothes and hurriedly pulling them on, not even bothering to wipe away the cum trailing down his thighs and staining his hairy stomach. Ghost watches him, wonders if this is it, if this is the end. Hopes it is as much as he prays it's not. Can’t find the words to make it official, so he supposes he’ll have to wait and see.

But Johnny doesn’t say anything else, just leaves as quickly as he usually does, slamming the door behind him. And Ghost—

Ghost doesn’t know what that means. Can’t for the life of him figure out what he wants it to mean. Regrets leaving the choice in another’s hands, giving up control. And at the same time, relishes in the idea that he can pretend they’re still in limbo for just a little bit longer.

That he’s not ruined the one good thing he has going for him.

He’s always been a selfish bastard.

-*-

They don’t talk about it.

It's normal that they don’t, really. Routine. They fight, they don’t speak for a few days, but they’re always drawn back towards each other, like moths to a flame. The pull is a siren call, irresistible. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before.

The next time they fuck, Johnny insists on riding him, clearly not trusting Ghost not to pin him down and bite him again.

That hurts, but he knows he deserves it, so he allows Johnny that sliver of control.

His teeth didn't end up breaking skin, and Ghost is glad for that, in retrospect. He doesn't want to hurt Johnny—and as good as Ghost’s mark on him would look, it doesn't belong there. Johnny isn’t his, can’t be his, doesn’t deserve to be his. Johnny deserves something soft. Something kind. If Ghost were a better man, he’d cut him loose to go find it.

Every time Johnny comes to his room at night—not as often as before, even less so since Ghost went rabid and bit him—he tells himself that he’ll do it. He’ll be better, just long enough to free Johnny of the burden that he is. But he never does.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

They’re at a pub tonight, all four members of the 141. Johnny’s traded his usual spot next to Ghost for one next to Gaz, and Ghost pretends he doesn’t notice, that it doesn’t bother him. He shouldn’t notice. It shouldn’t bother him. They’re teammates, colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like he told Johnny all those weeks ago.

So Ghost doesn’t burn with jealousy when some bloke starts flirting with his sergeant. He doesn’t grind his teeth when Johnny doesn’t turn him down right away. Doesn’t ache when he thinks about how Johnny wouldn’t have entertained so much as a glance at someone other than Ghost, before. He doesn’t clench his fingers around his pint so hard the glass creaks ominously, doesn’t glare daggers at the stranger’s ugly mug, doesn’t feel the urge to grab Johnny and bend him over the table right then and there, show everyone in the damn bar exactly who he belongs to.

Mine, mine, mine.

But he’s not, he’s not, so Ghost just gets up and slips outside for a smoke as Johnny charms the fucker effortlessly and gets free drinks in return. He’s on his way to getting properly sloshed, but he’s not there yet, and Ghost can feel those blue eyes on his back as he leaves. It’s as gratifying as it is infuriating, that Johnny notices him leaving. That he doesn’t hop up to join him like he used to. Like he should.

No, not like he should. Rather, how Ghost wants him to. Wants him at his side, always.

Selfish bastard.

He stares out into the dark street, trying to pull himself the fuck together. He can’t be acting like this. Like a schoolboy with a crush. Like a possessive boyfriend. He’s not Johnny’s, he never will be. He can’t be. Everything Ghost touches, he destroys. He’s breaking Johnny already—he can see how the other man still craves something more from Ghost, despite pulling away. That he always will, that no matter how many pieces of him Ghost steals and grinds to dust beneath his boots, Johnny will never leave, not entirely.

Ghost knows. Sometimes, Johnny looks at him with so much heartbreak and want in his eyes, it takes his breath away.

Ghost is ruining him. Soon, there will be nothing left of Johnny but an empty shell.

A cold sort of acceptance falls over his shoulders, and Ghost stubs his smoke out on the bricks behind him before flicking it away. As he heads back inside, he knows there’s no more running from this. No more being selfish. He will end things. He’ll let Johnny go, even if it kills him.

And Christ, but it feels like it just might.

Especially when he gets back to the team's booth, only to see that Johnny and the bloke that's been chatting him up are both gone. He stops, goes still, stares at Johnny's half-finished pint on the sticky tabletop, wonders if maybe he was wrong, maybe Johnny scrounged up enough survival instincts to leave Ghost after all. Like prey spooking in the presence of a predator.

“He's takin’ a piss,” Price speaks up, reading his mind and cutting through Ghost’s spiraling thoughts. He’s got a hand on Garrick’s nape, the younger man groaning pathetically as he leans against his Captain, green around the gills. “Think Kyle's had too much to drink, gonna bring ‘im back to base. You mind tellin’ Soap where we went?”

Ghost gives him a jerky nod, and Price drags Garrick out of the booth, slinging his arm around his shoulders.

“Ta. See you in the mornin’,” he says, and Ghost watches him lead Garrick outside before sliding into the booth. He stares hard at the door to the men’s room for nearly five minutes, but Johnny doesn’t reappear. He can already feel his determination to do the right thing slipping, and so he gets up and strides over, the crowd parting for him as it always does. Johnny’ll hate him for ending things in dirty pub toilet of all places, but perhaps that’s for the best.

Ghost would rather hurt Johnny a little bit right now than shatter him later.

And he will, if Johnny stays. Ghost will sink his teeth into him and rip him apart slowly, piece by piece.

Ghost wasn’t made for love. He was only made to destroy.

Abandonment is the only mercy he can offer.

The door creaks as it opens, and he’s assaulted by the stench of piss, sweat, and sex. A familiar wet sucking sound reaches his ears, accompanied by a chorus of gags and moans.

“That’s it, baby,” a voice, stuttered and hoarse, grunts. “Take it. Fucking take it, know how bad you want it, been begging for it all night.”

The gagging gets louder, enthusiastic and eager, and Ghost’s eyes drop to the gap between the stall door and the floor. Johnny’s boots stick out, damning.

Ghost turns around and leaves.

He won’t be selfish, this time. He’ll let Johnny go. Just like he promised.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Full of Surprises – Gary Johnson

Masterlist

"Hey, baby girl."

"Hi."

"Whoa," Gary sighed. "Is everything okay?"

"One word for you," I sighed.

"Oh?" Gary laughed.

"Teenagers."

"I'm sorry, gorgeous," Gary said softly. I could practically hear his smirk as he added, "We could order dinner and I'll make you feel like a teenager again."

"Easy, professor," I teased. "How was your day?"

"Long," he sighed. "I need a hot dinner, a hotter shower, and the hottest girl."

"I hope I'm the hottest girl you have in mind," I said, pretending to be grumpy.

"Always, baby girl," he chuckled. "Always."

"You have one more class, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "You're on your way home?"

"Yeah," I repeated. "I'm driving home now."

"Great," he said gently. "Get home, change into something comfy, and find us a movie to watch. I'll be home in a little over an hour."

"Better hurry," I said in a teasing tone. "I'd hate to behave like a teenager without you."

"Don't even think about it," he said, his voice sounding like he said it through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry, baby," I soothed. "I mean, I can behave like a teenager by myself. I'm really good at it, but it's not nearly as fun without you."

"Damn, baby girl," he moaned. "How am I supposed to stand up in front of a room full of college kids when I'm imagining my girl at home, waiting for me?"

"You started it," I chuckled. "Get to class, Professor. Call me on your way home and I'll change."

While he finished up his classes, I cleaned the house and ordered dinner. The second he walked in, I jumped into his arms. Gary carried me to the couch and we undressed. He had to quickly throw on his pants when the delivery man dropped off our dinner. After eating, we continued what we were doing earlier upstairs.

I woke up to someone kissing my bare shoulder. I moaned as I turned around, instantly tucking into Gary's chest.

"Why are you waking up?" I grumbled. "It's Saturday."

"I have to get to office hours," he chuckled.

"Who in their right mind would get up early on a Saturday after a late night just to go talk to a professor?" I sat up as Gary got out of bed. Seeing his naked form made me smirk. "Never mind," I said, making him look over his shoulder at me. "Now I get it."

He turned around, leaned down, and pressed his lips to mine. I grabbed his face and pulled him so he was lying on top of me. He kissed me back before slowly breaking the kiss.

"Baby," he sighed. "I really gotta get to campus."

"Fine," I pouted, pushing him off of me. He kissed my cheek before getting out of bed. "But you better not run off with some co-ed."

"And leave my Gorgeous History Teacher open for the Hot Math teacher to steal?"

"Are you kidding?" I teased. "I got nothing in common with Mr. Hammon."

He playfully glared at me before quickly returning to the bed. I giggled as he crawled back on top of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips smashed together.

"Mr. Hamman can go suck a calculator," Gary moaned against my lips. "You're all mine."

"Absolutely, Professor Sexy Ass."

Without getting off me, he looked over his shoulder at the clock on the bedside table.

"Damn it," he sighed. "I'm officially late."

I giggled as he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my lips before getting out of bed. I slipped on his flannel that I tore off him last night. While he showered, I went to the kitchen and started making him some coffee. I was just pouring it into his to-go mug when he came in.

I turned around and handed it to him. He went to grab it but wrapped his hand around mine, trapping me. He pulled me in and kissed me.

"What would I do without you?" He asked, lowering his voice.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Stop at Starbucks a hundred times a day."

He laughed as he continued to hold me close. "Wanna meet your man for lunch?"

"Sounds perfect."

Gary leaned in and kissed me again. "You know I love you, right?" He asked as he broke the kiss.

"Of course I know that," I smiled. "Just like how you know I love you."

"All I want is for you to be happy and safe," he said, the look on his face falling.

"Well, I am happy," I shrugged. "But why wouldn't I be safe?"

Gary paused. Something in his eyes changed. "You never know," he whispered. The fear in his eyes made my heart sink.

"Baby," I said, gently grabbing his face. "I am happy and safe. With you."

* * * * *

I walked into the office, to see Gary grading papers. I leaned against the doorway and watched his expression change as he marked things.

"Damn," I moaned, making Gary's head snap up. "You must have all the girls in your class swooning."

"They can swoon all they want," he smirked as he stood up and walked over to me. He pulled me into his chest and said, "You're the only girl for me."

I giggled as he leaned down and picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I tightened my arms around his neck as he carried me to his desk. He put me on the edge and stepped between my legs.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" He asked, his voice deep.

"Have your way with a student in your office, Professor?" I asked, smirking.

"Not just any student," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I moaned as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. As our lips moved in sync, Gary carefully laid me on top of his desk. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him on top of me.

"Professor Johnson," I whispered as he broke the kiss and started nibbling on my jawline. I smirked when he moaned. "We should probably lock the door."

* * * * *

After Gary and I fulfilled his fantasy, we went to lunch. Everything was normal except for one text that he got. When he looked at his phone, he quickly shut it off and put it back in his pocket. I went to ask him about it, but he said it was just an annoying coworker.

On the way back to the college, I noticed Gary continually looking into the rearview mirror. The more he looked into the rearview mirror, the tighter he gripped the steering wheel. After about the fifth time of checking something behind us, I had to say something about it.

"Gary," I said slowly. "Honey, is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he chuckled awkwardly. "I just. . ." He paused and looked in the rearview mirror again.

"What's going on?" I asked as I turned around.

"Don't," he said harshly as he grabbed my arm and turned me back.

"Gary," I whispered, "You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry, baby," he sighed as he let go of my arm and grabbed my hand. "It's just. . . It's complicated."

"What do you mean?"

He looked over at me and the fear in my eyes made the focus in his soften. He gently squeezed my hand.

"We're being followed."

"Wait, what?" I stuttered as I sat up.

"Don't worry," he tried to soothe. "I can get us out of this."

"But why. . . Why would someone be following us? We're teachers." I looked over at him, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Gary," I whispered. "What's really going on? Why would someone be following up?"

He looked at me and sighed. "Baby," he slowly started, "I promise I will tell you everything once I get us somewhere safe."

"Safe?" I stuttered.

I gasped when he quickly turned the truck. With both hands on the steering wheel, Gary weaved us through traffic. I couldn't help but continually look behind us. I wasn't sure what Gary saw, but I didn't notice anyone following us.

"Are you sure we're being. . ." I cut myself off with a gasp when he turned the car again.

"Blue GMC truck, two cars back," he said, sounding different. I don't know what side of him I was seeing, but I wasn't sure I liked it.

"Gary," I whispered. "Will you please tell me why we're being followed?"

He looked over at me, his eyes sinking. He checked the rearview mirror again before getting back onto the freeway.

"Look," he sighed. "I'm not actually a professor."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my fear choking me.

"It's my cover."

"You're what?!"

He looked over at me and I could clearly see his nerves building. He looked back at the rearview mirror, relaxing a little.

"Baby, can we continue this conversation at home?" He asked, his voice full of hope. 

"Okay," I said slowly. I looked away from him but I could still feel his eyes on me. We drove home in silence. Usually, I let him walk around and open the door for me but this time, I just wanted to get inside.

He quickly followed me. Once he was inside, I noticed him check the street before locking the door. He instantly walked over to me, grabbed my hands, and pulled me closer.

"Y/N," he whispered, "I really want to explain."

"You mean tell me the truth?" I scoffed as I tore my hands out of his and pushed him away from me. I walked past him and into the living room with him right on my heels.

I sat on the couch as he sat on the coffee table in front of me. He went to grab my hands but I moved them away.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, "I really am a professor but it's a cover."

"A cover for what?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest."

"It's kind of complicated," he stuttered. I scoffed as I scooted away from him. "Y/N, baby, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for lying to me?"

"Honey, please," he sighed. "I had to lie to you."

"What could possibly make you lie to me?"

"I work for the police as an undercover hitman," he rushed out.

"Gary," I scoffed as I stood up and started walking away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gary jumping over the coffee table to stop me from walking away.

"Y/N, I'm serious," he said, grabbing my hand and turning me around. "I work for the police as an undercover hitman."

"Saying it again doesn't clarify it," I said, pulling my hands out of his, "and it doesn't make it believable either."

"Then let me explain further," he sighed. "Y/N, I do work at the college, but I also help the police. I have a couple of aliases who people hire to kill their loved ones."

"What?" I gasped as I stepped away from him.

"I haven't," he said quickly. "Y/N, baby, they only think I will. It's a setup. They hire me to kill their loved one and I agree to it. Once they pay me, the police move in. See? I would never kill anyone."

We stared at each other as I tried to connect the dots. My mind was going everywhere as I looked into the eyes of the man I loved but wasn't sure I knew anymore. Gary must've known what I was thinking.

"Please believe me, gorgeous," he whispered desperately as he walked toward me. "I am still the same guy you met and fell in love with at that teaching conference three years ago. I just. . . I lie sometimes."

"Have you ever slept with one of your clients?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course not, baby," he said, stepping closer to me. He grabbed my hands and looked deeply into my eyes. "I promise, darling. I would never ever ever cheat on you. I'd rather lose a client, have my chief yell in my face, and never work for the police again than cheat on the woman of my dreams."

He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. When I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, he took that as a good sign because he slowly leaned in and kissed me. It took me a second before I started kissing him back.

When I started to kiss him back, he pulled me closer. Soon, our lungs were burning. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

"I swear on my life, my love," he whispered, still out of breath, "I have never cheated on you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asked, slightly leaning back.

"I'm not okay with you lying and having aliases and agreeing to fake-kill someone," I sighed, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "But I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he said quickly. I couldn't help but smile when I finally realized he was constantly calling me pet names to soften me up.

"You're careful, right?" I asked, my voice softening as I looked down at our feet. He reached over and gently lifted my head with his pointer finger.

"I'm always careful, sweetheart," he tried to reassure me. I couldn't help but take a step closer to him as I remembered what brought all this up.

"Gary?" I whispered.

"What, baby?" He asked.

"What about those people that followed us earlier? Who were they? Did they know who you were? Were they tracking you? What if they followed us home? What if they come back when you're on campus? What if they try to take me in order to get you to. . ."

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said firmly. "I promise, Y/N. I will always protect you."

[dontopenfairies]

"Am I getting put in that?" He sat up on his elbows.

"Lay back down, baby." She gently pushed his shoulders down again.

"Why do I need to get put in a diaper? Why do I need to get changed lying down..." She put a finger to his lips.

"You know why, honeypie. Do you just want me to remind you again? You went poop in your pull-up. Come on, get your bottom up for me. There we go." She gently pulled his hips back down onto the soft diaper.

He felt his body squirm on the changing mat He was trying so hard not too, but he couldn't help it.

"There we go." She taped him up securely. "Let me get you new pants. You're going to feel all clean and nice."

"Okay." His thumb slipped into his mouth again.

"Aww, see? I know you like this better. Help me get your pants on. I know you can do that. See, soft pajamas over a soft, clean diaper. Doesn't that feel nice?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh."

"There we go. Come on up." She pulled him up by his forearms and he whined a little bit. "What? Do you want to lay down on the changing table a little longer? Come on, baby, I want you to do some dishes for me." She lifted him off the table and set him on his feet.

"My feet are cold..."

"Go get socks on and meet me in the kitchen, okay?" She left the room.

She sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the magazine she'd been reading just before he needed to be changed. A few minutes later she heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway. He appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Hi, baby. Go ahead and start on the dishes."

He walked over to the sink. The diaper was so soft and secure under his clothes and it was making him feel so warm. He could feel her eyes looking at him.

"Are you okay? You didn't wet yourself so soon, did you?"

"No." He set the plate he had been rinsing in the dish rack. "Why?"

"You look a little bit wiggly, that's all. Oh, I know. I bet you feel really comfortable with your diaper on under your clothes, huh?"

She watched a red flush rise in the back of his neck. She set the magazine aside and pushed out her chair, standing up. Gently and slowly, she looped her arms under his arms and around him from behind. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"You know what it means, right?" she asked, taking her head off his shoulder.

"What...what what means?"

"Feeling your diaper on under your clothes. It means...it means I really care about you and I want you to feel safe and clean." She rested her head on his shoulder again. "Do you know that?"

He didn't say anything right away, but she could feel how warm he was getting, and she could feel his hips and legs wiggling a little.

"I know," he said.

"I'm glad you know," she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Let me know when you need a change again, okay, honey?"

She pulled away from him and went back to the table, picking up her magazine.

"I don't need to be changed like a baby..." She put her hands under his arms and hoisted him up onto the changing table. "I can get changed standing up."

"Uh-huh...but you like being changed lying down like a baby, don't you?"

He didn't say anything but he smiled at her from behind his hand.

"And besides," she continued, "you went number 2. This is just going to be way easier." She pushed his shoulders down onto the mat.

She eased down his pajama pants. "Oh wow. You're so messy. At least you didn't leak." She pulled his pants all the way off and ripped open the sides of his pull-up.

"You know you aren't meant to do that in pull-ups," she told him as she cleaned him up. "And look at you with your thumb in your mouth. Tell me again who isn't a baby?"

"I'm not a baby," he mumbled.

[beabnormal24]

Quick Carbon wip just got inspired and wanted to write it.

“George.” Alex hisses, pressing his phone against his cheek until he’s sure he could mold into it.

He can still feel his heart racing from the run he had made up the stairs. He hasn’t really gone to the gym in a while, so it could be that, or maybe it’s just the way his brain had felt like melting out of his ears when he had laid eyes on the labelled boxes in the hall, first, and a muscular back near the doorman box, after.

“Alexander.” George hisses back, “why are we whispering?”

“Carlos Sainz, George.” Alex says, just before realising that, probably, saying a name without putting it in a properly complete sentence doesn’t make any logical sense. “I just- I just saw him- in the hall- fuck”

“Did you run up the stairs?” George asks, sounding way too amused. “I told you, you should take your working out more seriously at your age. Again, I can talk with Rita and find a spot for you in my morning Pilates classes, they would do you only good I am sure.”

“George, Carlos Sainz, in my- in my building.” Alex repeats, frantically looking for his keys in the utter mess of his jacket’s pockets.

He was pretty sure he was already holding them as he got in the hall, but then they seemed to disappear just as he was getting up the stairs, skipping the elevator because he surely wouldn’t stay there with Carlos Sainz just a few feet away.

Perhaps he just mechanically put them back in his pocket, he wouldn’t put it past himself after seeing Carlos freaking Sainz in the same place as himself. Talking to Alex’s doorman, of all people.

“Ah, I see, I see.” George says slowly, “But weren’t you watching him playing in San Diego just, like, a few days ago? Ah these rich people and their private jets, our poor sustainability!”

“It was last week, George.” Alex says, moving his phone to the other shoulder as he gets both his hands finally free. “Do you really not listen to me at all when I talk about golf?”

George is suspiciously silent for a second too long. “Eh, no.” He says, sincerely. “That being said. I don’t see the big deal with him being in the same building as you. You’re obsessed with the guy, just make sure to not act weird and all.”

“Weird?” Alex whispers, but it almost sounds like a screech to his own ears. “Yeah, no, I am perfectly normal about this what are you saying?”

“I can literally hear your brain exploding from here.”

“Shut up.”

“You called me.”

“And I am regretting it very much.” Alex says, stuffing his hand in the back pocket of his jeans just to come out, once again, empty handed. God, why does this have to happen now of all times? He is in desperate need of a coffee and, even better, a long cold shower to properly wrap around what he just saw. “Ah, my keys-“

There’s a tap on his shoulder and the only reason why Alex manages to not jump out of his skin is that he’s way too distracted with something like avoiding having to change all his locks because of his own idiocy.

As he turns around ready to tell somebody off, though, he desperately wishes his soul had actually made the jump.

“Looking for these?” Carlos Sainz says, dangling Alex’s keys in front of his face with a smirk. Distantly, Alex is pretty sure his phone just fell to the ground. “You dropped them in the hall, I can see it’s an habit.” Carlos Sainz jokes.

Because, as it stands, Carlos Sainz is in front of him making a joke about how Alex seems to have an habit of dropping his personal stuff around like an idiot.

Which is precisely the best and worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him.

In a remote part of his barely functioning brain, Alex knows that he should probably laugh to not look like a complete weirdo - which is exactly what George had advised him of, amazing.

But all that actually manages to come out of his mouth is just a strangled noise as his mind goes through two things, not necessarily in that order: fuck he is hotter than on TV and fuck he is shorter than I thought.

“Is everything-“

“Yes!” Alex rushes to say, taking the offered keys out of Carlos’ hands before remembering that he has been raised with manners. “Thank you, I am- a bit distracted yes.”

“That’s okay.” Carlos says, reassuring. His smile is almost blinding, way too gentle than it should be when offered to, well, a complete stranger.

Alex can’t exactly miss the way Carlos’ eyes seem to take in the sight of him, raking from the top of his head to the worn points of his Converse. He probably looks ridiculous compared to the well-put and squeaky clean shoes on Carlos’ feet, but in his defence, they don’t have a dressing code at work, and he is no professional golfer.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, new neighbour.” Carlos says, and when his eyes meet Alex’s there’s a glint in them he can’t exactly decipher. “I am Carlos Sainz, but I seemed to notice you already know that.”

Oh.

Alex is fucked.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; "Cassie gets cursed and Kon gets k'ed". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Um,” Kon says, and tries not to sound any stupider than he already does. In his defense, pretty much all his blood is still in his dick and not his brain. “Just–you don’t usually wanna hang out in here, is all.” 

She doesn’t ever wanna, actually, which has admittedly made him vaguely wonder if it smells weird or it’s messier than he thinks it is or something, but since he literally has a better sense of smell than her and also cleans up in here pretty regularly because he can’t help feeling like Ma’d be disappointed if she found out his quarters were a trash heap, well . . . that doesn’t really seem likely, is all. 

So like–he’d just figured that she liked her room better or just something like that, but now he doesn’t actually know. Which is stupid, because it’s probably just that–

. . . no, it wasn’t closer. And there’s not anything sex-related in it that Cassie doesn’t have more and more flavors of in hers, so . . .  

“Oh,” Cassie says, and . . . blinks, slowly, lifting her head to look around the room. Kon feels a weird little flash of unexpected embarrassment that he did not feel comparing their dicks or trying to learn how to suck her dick or even coming in his pants like a fucking newbie. 

“Uh,” he says, his face feeling weirdly warm and feeling weirdly–flustered, himself. Cassie stares blankly at his closet, and he tries not to think about the sticky mess in the crotch of his suit and feels like an idiot who’s fucked up the mood and– 

“This is going to sound so weird, but I think I just thought I was supposed to, like . . . host,” Cassie says, sounding more bewildered than anything else. 

“. . . um,” Kon says. “Like . . .” 

“Like I mean I think I’ve literally been acting like getting dicked down is a dinner party I’m throwing and I have to plan a menu and get everything out of the oven on time and set the table. Or, uh, make the bed, I guess,” she says, then groans and hangs her head in disbelief. “Gods, I am literally my mom, aren’t I.” 

“Oh my god, babe,” Kon says, and half-covers his face with a hand as he laughs helplessly. Fuck, she’s so cute. So cute even with a dick that could beat up his dick. “Shit, you at least coulda given me a heads-up if I needed to get some napkin rings and shit!” 

“. . . oh, I’m immediately having weird sex thoughts about that idea,” Cassie mutters, her face turning pink, and Kon grins up at her and grabs her face to tug her down into a kiss. 

“Mmm, wanna wear the promethium cock ring for me, babe?” he purrs teasingly. “You could fuck me way longer with that thing on, right? Like, if it’s not too small for you, anyway. We could check.” 

So like–teasing, yeah, but definitely the kind of teasing that ends with an “. . . unless?”

“Nrgh,” Cassie says, then crushes him to the bed again and tries to bite his mouth off. Kon is personally very happy to be bitten. He winds his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist and moans happily into her mouth. His pants are a gross sticky mess and he wants out of them yesterday, and also to figure out how getting fucked up the ass actually works not only yesterday but, like, last week. 

“Seriously, if I’m the party this time, I gotta make sure the guests are enjoying ‘emselves, right? Gotta make sure that big fat magic dick you’re rockin’ is all comfy and hosted?” he croons breathlessly, feeling much better about the mood again, and Cassie buries her face in his shoulder with a low, gratifying groan and shoves her hands in between his ass and the mattress and just squeezes it. Kon makes a noise he has very, very rarely made in his life and can’t figure out if he wants to grind his ass down into her hands or his dick up into her abs, sticky mess or not. “Cassie, Cassie, fuck, you’re gonna fuck me, right? Gonna be my first?” 

“Nrgh,” Cassie says, her hips jerking down into his. He squirms up just a little bit higher against the mattress–just enough so the next jerk of her hips slots her dick in against his ass instead–and she groans even louder. 

“Never had a cock before, you felt so good in my mouth, s’it gonna feel that good up my ass too, y’think, or–?” 

“NRGH.”

Kon gets his legs shoved down and the bottom half of his suit yanked down around his thighs somehow all in the same move and then Cassie spits in her hand and then he gets a big broad hand shoved in up between his thighs and big broad calloused fingers pushing in along and against his taint and pressing in, and he gasps in, like, the absolute fucking sluttiest delight of his fucking life as Cassie rubs a spit-slick finger across and around his hole, which is holy fucking SHIT levels of sensitive, apparently. Oh. Oh, he really shoulda been playing around down there before, huh. Like a lot, he shoulda been. 

Kon has never been so happy about getting shoved around. He wants more of it. Fuck, at this point he thinks he wants fucking bullied. 

“Cassie, Cassie,” he moans gleefully, rocking down against her rubbing fingers, and she stares down at him fixatedly and rubs her fingers in tighter, dragging the flat pad of her thumb across his hole, and he makes another noise he’s only very rarely made in his life and then a whole mess of totally brand-new ones he’s never made before at all. “Goddamn, Cassie, goddamn, put ‘em inside, lemme feel ‘em, ah ah ah, wanna feel how big they–AH!” 

Cassie only dipped the tip of a finger in, but Kon is not embarrassed by how loud he yelped over it. The little stroking sensation feels fucking good, all shocky and bright and a totally different kind of sensitive than he’s used to, and it’s making his thighs fucking quake. 

“Not too–?” Cassie starts to ask roughly, and Kon deeply regrets his suit keeping his legs, like, arguably trapped and rocks his hips down. 

“More,” he begs, and Cassie makes a strangled sound. “Lemme–lemme get my pants off, lemme get my pants off and fuckin’ open me up, stick it in me, I wanna feel it, I–” 

Actually, they’re in his room this time, he realizes, so it doesn’t actually matter if he gets his pants off or just rips his pants in half, does it. 

There’s a fucking thought, Kon thinks, and then immediately snaps his thighs as wide open as he can. His pants tear apart right at the crotch and immediately become less “pants” and more, like, thigh-highs, and Cassie graduates from “strangled” sounds to “actively getting hanged” sounds. 

Kon feels pretty good about that, but not as good as he feels when she shoves her finger up inside.

[mental69er]

I need Victoria Neuman to pat her lap and tell me to come here while she's man spreading, especially in that scene where she had her hair in a ponytail. Can you write a request where she does that to the reader

Content: victoria with a ponytail and manspreading, finger riding, the chairs sees some action, short piece, fem reader, 18+

"What do you think you're doing?"

Victoria's voice was low, husky. A touch reproachful.

It stopped you right in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at her, slightly confused and halfway to sitting down on the armchair by her side.

"I'm sitting?" you told her, still confused.

"You're not supposed to sit there," she said, a hint of a smirk curling up her lip. The way she sat in the chair, relaxed into it, legs spread apart to stretch the material of her pants tightly across her thighs, had you feeling very warm lately.

You had thought you'd hidden your wants quite well, since Victoria had only dropped by to visit you before she had to rush off to a work related event again. But the image of wrapping your hands in her ponytail while you kissed the lipstick off of her lips had kept surfacing.

"Then where am I supposed to sit?" you asked her and it was the right thing to ask because she tapped her lap.

"Come here."

Her voice was commanding, eyes dark on you. You swallowed thickly, feeling your heart rate begin to climb. You had no choice but to follow her order, slinking over slowly to slide onto her lap. She set the glass of whiskey down on the stand, hands trailing up your legs until they rested on your hips.

You settled your weight onto her, feeling a light blush settle onto your cheeks.

"There, isn't that much better?" she asked, tilting her head back to look at you as you twined your arms around the back of her neck. "You haven't at all been subtle about where you would like to spend the rest of this evening."

You swallowed thickly but could not deny it, the heat in between your thighs rising at her words.

"If you ask nicely I might indulge you," she said, smiling up at you.

You licked your suddenly dry lips, body growing pliant under her watch. "Please," you breathed out, blood rushing through your veins, making your pulse pound. You needed to feel Victoria taking command of you. You needed her to take control.

"Please what?" she goaded, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"I need you," you whined out, wriggling your hips into her lap, letting her feel the heat growing there.

"Need me to do what?" she asked, purposefully drawing this moment out.

"Touch me, fuck me," you breathed out, anticipation building in your gut. "Do whatever you want to me."

"Good girl," she crooned, allowing her limber fingers to undo the button and zipper of your pants. She didn't allow you a single moment to take them off, instead yanking them roughly down your thighs as far as they would go in this position, slipping her hand into the freed up space.

She cupped you over your underwear and you were surprised to feel how soaked they were. You'd missed her a lot more than you'd imagined.

"All this for me?" She cooed as she looked up at you, dark eyes gleaming. You nodded your head hoping she would get on with it. Slowly her fingers slipped under the band of your underwear and glided through wetness.

You let out a happy groan, sinking into her touch. She arched her neck up to press gentle kisses onto your neck, matching the gentle touch of her fingers. The pace began to pick up and her kisses grew harder, sucking on your skin, nipping on it, making your head loll back as your eyes fluttered shut.

Your hips began to ground down onto the two fingers inside of you, and you internally lamented that there wasn't enough space to truly grind down on her. But you wouldn't trade your spot in her lap for anything in the world right now.

It felt right to be here.

Your soft pants began to grow louder and you could feel yourself approaching completion soon. Greedily, you yanked on her ponytail, forcing her mouth away from your neck.

She gave you a questioning look before you wiped it off her face with a long, hard kiss, shoving yourself down onto her fingers as you finally came all over her hand.

You pulled away from the kiss for a second before peppering her mouth with smaller kisses, feeling your body cool down. She hummed happily, pulling her fingers out of you and offering them to you to clean.

You gladly put them in your mouth and sucked off the taste there.

"I didn't know you liked being in my lap this much. Maybe next time I should bend you over my knees and take you that way?"

You shuddered at the lust in her tone.

"How about now?" you blurted out without thinking, wrapping a finger around the end of her ponytail playfully.

"I have an appointment I have to go to, and now I need to fix my hair and lipstick because of someone," she teased, pressing a gentle kiss over one of the marks she'd left on your neck. "But something tells me I'll be cutting it short to come right back here," she promised.

[clemswrld]

NEW LIL’ DAVE POSTERS!!!

ok so the first one has no texture and the second one has a slight noise effect added to it. These will be up on my redbubble soon!!

PLEASE DONT REPOST WITHOUT CREDIT!!

reblogs are appreciated<33

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer