#think about it for five seconds please and not just use it as fucking window dressing
every so often i see a fanfic where Stede mentions the plantation or owning slaves or something along those lines and i hope that all of those authors know that like. a slave-owner is not a person capable of loving or respecting people of color. someone who has owned human beings, especially as part of the transatlantic slave trade, where the justification is based upon race and the inherent inhumanity of Africans and the non-white, is not a person who can love or respect people of color. if you are writing Stede as a person who, for most of his adult life, owned slaves and operated a plantation, he is inherently going to be a person incapable of fully recognizing or respecting Ed, let alone the Black men on his crew like Roach, Oluwande, and Frenchie.
it just doesn't work like that. you cannot participate in the evil that is the slave trade for so long, and benefit from it, and then turn around and treat with respect and compassion people of the same race as the ones you currently have enslaved back on your estate that you abandoned.
its fucking wild that anyone could think otherwise. the show does not say that Stede Bonnet is a slave owner, and in fact David Jenkins specifically references that he's not writing that guy anymore than he's writing the Blackbeard who raped and organized the gang rape of captive women. obviously I can't control anyone, but please think for five seconds on if it would make sense that Stede could be the kind of person who owns slaves and a plantation and then turns around and respects and loves the humanity of people of color and cares about ruining Ed. please think about what sense it would make for him to take the products of slave labor and eagerly share them with Roach, Oluwande, and Frenchie, and that none of these Black men would have a concern in the world about it, these Black men who literally kill British officers for calling them slaves and using racial insults.
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PLEASE IM BEGGING I WILL SELL MY FAMILY FIR THIS
More flirty bombshell reader but Spencer was just let out of prison and now instead of just getting all hot and bothered he flirts back 😼
Love you and your writing pooks 😏😚🫶🏾
love you! fem, 1.1k
This has been the longest eighty four days of your life. Not even three months apart and yet it's felt as long and arduous as three years, and so you do what you must on the day Spencer is released from Milburn; you take your time putting yourself back together, preening and polishing, as pretty as you've ever looked.
Penelope looks good too, JJ as well. The girls are here to represent, and that's without mentioning Luke's general unbelievable physique.
You're pissed at being left outside but you can manage. You can cope. You don't think Penelope, bless her huge heart, is going to fight you for Spencer's attention. Not for a good five seconds. What to say first? I miss you, I love you, I'm so fucking sorry I let this happen, that I couldn't do more.
He appears behind a grate door, Luke at his side. Then the grate is opening, JJ with tears in her eyes behind him, and every idea of what to do goes out the window.
Your breath catches before he's so much as touched you.
"Hey," you say. It starts well, ends weak, tears in your eyes as you choke, "hey, handsome."
"Hey," he says, hugging you with more care than you're expecting. "Oh my god, hey." He lets out a sigh of relief, his face dipping down to press against your shoulder. You feel the familiar curve of his nose and hold your breath to stop from crying.
You let him go a selfish ten seconds later, but Spencer keeps your hand as he hugs Penelope, one-armed. It's awful and selfish and you don't care, you go in for the second hug on tiptoes, arms behind his neck, your mouth pressed as high as you can reach on his face. A mess of lip gloss is left behind when they finally crowbar you off of him long enough to get in the car, and even then you're clinging to his hand, worried someone will take him again, that you won't be able to do a thing about it.
You wrap your arms around his and hug him on the drive back. You can't stop looking up into his face. Spencer, unflinching, meets you there, his eyes a little glassy, his face sallow but getting better.
"Missed me?" you ask quietly. You've only so much privacy.
"So much."
"Like a hole in the head?"
Spencer leans down an inch. "No, like, I really missed you."
"Of course you did, you–" Spencer leans down suddenly and disarms you, his breath warm against your cheek.
"I what?" he asks, kissing your cheek.
"You haven't been away from me that long in years," you breathe.
"It took getting used to," he says agreeably, speaking low, his breath hotter still as he kisses upward. Two kisses, that's all they are, but when he sits straight again you're thrown.
"But you got used to it?"
"No," he says, smiling at you like you've made a funny joke rather than thinly veiled insecurity spoken in a desperate attempt to garner some reassurance.
It was difficult coping with the hurt of his having left you in the dark. You knew he was doing something he shouldn't have been, but you never for a moment imagined this outcome. You worried (deep down, and not for his ears) that he'd met someone new, that he'd grown disinterested in your years of love and life. Of you. Especially as he's matured, which is to say he stopped looking like he was about to walk the stage at New York Fashion week and started dressing sharp as a tack. Your Spencer stayed yours, but he got older, and you did too —you look older. You're still yourself, high maintenance, prideful, sweet, but you're not the same.
Between the distance that bloomed with his secrecy and his growing maturity, you were caught off guard. And then not long after he was arrested in Mexico and you couldn't get him out no matter what you did, or who you begged for help.
Spencer brings his hand to your cheek, tilting your head one way slowly, and then the other. There's confidence in his touch that you've felt before, just never to this extent.
What happened to you? you think.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"For what, sweetheart?" you ask, meaning it implicitly. He's your sweetheart. He's everything. You're too high on his return to want an apology.
"For everything. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you."
There's something you can work with. "Oh, you will?"
"I promise."
Mindful of your friends in the front seats, you press your cheek into his hand, turning your head just enough to touch your lips to his palm. His eyes are dark brown where they meet yours, pupil and iris one and the same. "How?" you murmur.
Spencer brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. Something in his eyes speaks even as he stays quiet, a light, an amusement, as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing, but it won't work.
I'm not a saint, you say back with a sheepish smile. You close your eyes and let your head fall into his shoulder. He hugs you close despite the lack of room, his chin landing atop your head gently. "You'll have to try harder," he whispers.
"Don't know what you mean."
"Months of missing you and the first thing you do is try to torture me."
"That's our thing."
"No, our thing is me worshipping the ground you walk on," he says into your hair, hand squeezing as it roves up your arm, reassuring himself that you're there, that you're real.
"Like I wouldn't do the same if you'd let me. I would've done anything." He probably can't hear you anymore, your voice a suggestion of sound. "I would've done anything if I thought it would…" get you back to me.
Spencer does you a favour of ignoring you. Later, you know he'll bring it up again. You'll have time, because he's going home. For now he does his best to hold you together in the company of others, always thinking about what you need. "You look so pretty today. Is that for me?"
"I always look pretty." You haven't felt it lately.
"I know. Maybe it's because I didn't see you for so long… It's like seeing you again for the first time."
Your chest aches in a strangely nice way. "And how are you coping, handsome?"
He rests his cheek on your forehead. On paper, you're flirting. In actuality, you're being one hundred percent honest with each other. "I'm not. My blood pressure has gotta be 180 over 110 right now."
"I love it when you talk medical to me."
"I love you."
You nose at his suit sleeve ineffectually "I love you."
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・˳ . ⋆Tales of two hypnotic bodyguards・˳ . ⋆
In which you as a heir for your family company gets double teamed by your two insatiable body guards
· · · ♡ featuring Toji fushiguro and miguel o’hara x chubby! Fem! Reader · · · ♡
୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Warnings: alternative au’s for both, Smut, heavy degradation kink from both men, impact play ( pulling hair, slapping body parts, slapping ass), praise kink, breeding kink, creampie, mention of miguel daughter being k1lled by your brother, family brought up when degrading, spitting, double penetration in one hole, pet names ( sweetheart, princess,muñeca ( used by miguel three time max), slut, etc.), squirting, messy pussy eating from miguel, face fucking, thigh kink hinted at, black reader but not explicit, safe word is mentioned but you dont use it, graphic descriptions of t0rtur*, may be OOC for Miguel since I didn’t really pay attention to Atsv, OC death, dom! Toji and Miguel, somewhat bratty reader, threeway kiss, both of them give you head at the same time, please let me know if i miss something.
୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Word count: 4.7k
18+, Minors do not interact
( y/c/ o/sw) = your choice of safe word
muñeca means doll, please correct me if I’m wrong
You wished you could go back to the days where you were so naive to the business your mom and dad entertained themselves with. You were only 19 once you got this business passed down to you and you hated it ever since. You hated doing math but was great at the subject so when the people around you in the office started speaking about percentages you tuned them out or forced yourself to chime in when you felt the numbers or percentages off by a little.
You're three years strong and yet you didn’t give up your position to your little brother and sister because they were both irresponsible and you couldn’t let your family business go down the drain because of the idiots. You despise your parents so much for leaving this earth so soon yet you missed them everyday. Why do they choose you when you have another sibling who's five years older than you. He was perfect for the role since he was close to the age where you settle down and have families, he could even pass the company down to his heir— that’s killing two birds with one stone. You actually knew why your parents couldn’t pass it to him. You just didn’t want to dwell on it that much. They hated him and he hated everyone in your family.
Right now, you were staring at the pretty chandelier on your ceiling in your pretty office with glass windows all around it. The night sky was so damn beautiful, but the ceiling made you think of multiple things at once and that’s what you needed after learning who killed both of your parents. Their deaths were easy and quick and you were glad but something was very familiar with the carving their skins had. It was a message, a harsh one too from your dear elder brother. The same one who hates your family with a passion. You wanted to know why it had to be like this and you couldn’t even be in shock because he’s been suspicious and has been missing since December 2021, it’s now 2023. Either he’s hiding or someone ki-
“ Hey, little one, you can’t be hogged up in your office all day?”, You heard a strong deep voice asked at the door. You snapped your neck to the voice and gave him a head nod, “ Can’t help it, how would you feel if your own brother killed your parents because of something you can’t even confirm. Even now, three years later.” Toji shook his head and walked towards your desk, “ Ease your mind off that or it’s gonna give your pretty face wrinkles. You’re not even 35 yet, so we can’t have you with wrinkles.”
You looked at him with a straight face which caused the second person in the room to smirk at your face. “ Cut her some slack because I too would have sprouting thoughts and ideas in my head about my dear older brother who turned out to be a maniac.” You so badly wanted to drown Miguel because of his smart ass remarks. They both were a handful for you even if they are your bodyguards.
“ You two are the most annoying people on the planet right now.”, You say turning your rolling chair around to face the opposite of them. You heard little chuckles prior to Toji speaking now, “ You love us because otherwise you would’ve got rid of us, your majesty.” You scoff and leaned back in your chair, “ Sarcasm is the devil, I’m telling you. Especially both of your sarcasm. Makes me want to shut both of your mouths permanently sometimes, but I can’t because how else are you going to communicate with me.” You were mostly whispering to yourself the last part but they heard you loud and clear.
Miguel yanked your chair around to face his stomach since he was sitting on your desk. You took in the outline of his six pack through his white buttoned up shirt. You also noticed that he took off his black blazer, which was sitting on the sofa in your office. Your eyes then begin to trail up his body— connecting your eyes to his in a fearsome stare down. Neither of you talked just stared. Until you heard the same voice, “ So are you two gonna fuck without me, so selfish Miguel, so selfish. I would be selfish if I was you as well. A beautiful woman like her you have to be selfish with.” You both turned to Toji standing before the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. The silver chain that hangs in between his chest was doing things to you and right now you so badly needed a distraction but you had to stay professional since these are your bodyguards. But the way his white collared shirt had two buttons unbuttoned and his cufflinks rolled up, you’d think otherwise.
Miguel scoffed and rolled his eyes before turning back to you, “ Aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere tonight, to that mating event right? Right Toji?” His eyes remained in you as he spoke to you and Toji, yet his eyes looked empty while staring at you. There’s no emotion in his eyes as he says it and you were so caught up that you didn’t get the sub he threw at you until you heard Toji gruff voice, “ Yeah, that mating ritual event is tonight and we have to both be there with her tonight.”
You rolled your eyes at both of them, “ For one, it’s not called a mating event or mating ritual event. It’s just an annual event business owners have due to taking after their parents, not my fault I was casted to take over this company and besides it’s not like I’m gonna see him there.” Miguel lowered his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose while Toji leaned over your desk with two hands on the surface of your desk.
“ Him as in the man you have to marry in the upcoming given years in order to maintain the deal that your dad made with his dad before he died? That low life, really?”, Miguel says, getting up to pace in front of you with his hands on his waist, causing you to eye it and realize how little his waist was. On another note, you were glad that your office is spacious even behind your desk because he would’ve been stepping all over your pretty toes with a fresh light pink pedicure.
These two acted like Henry was the worst person ever. Like yeah he does have some bad qualities like chewing with his mouth open or even talking with his mouth full, but they too have bad qualities too, some you haven’t witnessed. Still, they don’t want you with him at all.
“ Yes him, why don’t you two like him? You’ve been hating him ever since you both became my bodyguards because it didn’t start when you became my father’s bodyguards one year before he died. You don’t think you’re overreacting with your dislike for him… he’s not even the only one you disliked. You disliked my ex boyfriend, my ex boy bestfriend, and my own broth-”, you yelled before getting your jaw snatched by Miguel left hand, “ Don’t say anything about that fucker, not in my presence. I just want you to be quiet for me, mhm, can you do that for me, my precious Muñeca?” You had no choice but to stay quiet when he had your jaw in his hand. You wanted so badly to slap him but the pool in your panties said enough for you. The look in his eyes drove you mad when he peered down at you. His red eyes were so gorgeous to look into right now that you subconsciously nodded your head and he let you go.
You knew he was mad because of him speaking a little Spanish when he’s mad. You caught on one night when you dropped all your responsibilities and left with your ex best friend who now hated you for some reason. You continued the stare down until he wrapped his arms around your waist while you sat down and picked you up with no struggle, no matter how much you weigh. Your legs followed the route as he leaned to capture your lips with his soft ones.
You two kept locking your lips with one another as Toji came around the desk to where you two were with a little smile on his face. He was surprised when you reached to his belt buckle— pulling him into y’all. You stopped kissing Miguel and turned to kiss Toji on the lips, slow like a snail with both of your spit lapping onto each other tongues like a popsicle dripping on a hot summer day. Miguel took off your shirt letting it drop to the floor revealing your pretty bra to them. One of your arms was now wrapped around Toji and the other one was wrapped around Miguel.
He watched what was going on in front of him with heavy and low eyes, taking in every detail of the kiss and the way your chest raised up and down. His full lips shaped into a smirk when you pulled him into the three way hug prior to locking your lips with his now. Toji smiled and joined the kiss when you guided his head into the kiss. Now you three were in a three way kiss and it felt so good to all three of you, swapping spit from left to right.
You were the first to break the kiss and let out a breath while they let out huge breaths as well. Toji lifted you up in his arms prior to slamming you on the couch by your neck making a little whimper slip from your mouth. He lifted himself off you and stood next to Miguel who was staring at the scenery in silence. You lifted your body up and slid down your skirt and looked at them— opening your legs giving them both full access to your panty hose covering your pretty panties you chose to wear today. “ Please fuck me, mister Fushiguro and mister O’Hara.” Your voice sounded so sensual and siren like— they couldn’t help but to groan at your actions.
“ I’m gonna break you, my pretty little butterfly. Prepare her for me, Miguel.”, Toji says, patting him on the back. Miguel scoffed and rolled his eyes, “ I’m only doing this because I want to and not because you said so, got it?” Toji put up two hands to show he’s not a threat, “ Whatever you say, meanwhile I’m gonna fill my pretty princess mouth with something she desperately wants, who could deny such a pretty face.” He squeezed your chubby cheeks and you almost cursed him out until you felt thick fingers dancing up your legs. You were about to look down but Toji grabbed your jaw, “ Ah, Ah, Ah, eyes on me, honey bee. I Can't have you focused on another man when my dick is gonna be filling your mouth soon. ”
You nodded as he stuck a thumb in your mouth and Miguel was slowly starting to plant kisses on your legs whispering to himself but you heard every word he said. “ God, your legs are so beautiful, thighs too —especially your thighs— wanna fuck em’ so bad, baby.” You almost squirmed when you felt both of his hands reopening your legs revealing the one possession of yours he wanted since he became your bodyguard two years ago. Toji chuckled at Miguel remarks whilst unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants only pulling out his dick. You licked your lips as you felt Miguel trail kisses against your panty hose where your inner thighs were. Your pussy was soaking wet right now due to the mouth watering sight in front of you and the feeling of thick and full lips on your inner thighs.
Miguel grabbed something out his pocket and cut open your panty hose at the part where your pussy was on display for him. The wetness pooled inside of your panties making him smirk up at you, if only you weren’t so enticed with licking Toji’s tip you could’ve seen the way he looked at you, “ You’re so wet for me, huh. Fucking heaven if you ask me, Toji. Too bad.” He started placing small kisses on the opening of your pussy while your tongue flicked over Toji’s slit causing him to lean on the thick glass window since he was now standing up in front of you while his feet were planted on your black couch.
Miguel continued to taunt Toji whilst giving little pecks of kisses on your pussy lips, “ You. Can’t. Get. The. First. Taste. Of. My. Princess.” Your moans were dancing around Toji’s tip as your mouth was locked on to it with a leg shaking grip, “ Shut the fuck up, she’s performing right now, so you be quiet when my doll is putting on a- Aah, just like that!!- sh-show.” You took him inside of your mouth inch by inch as much as you could fit inside of your mouth and he couldn’t take it. He always fantasized about you choking on his dick whenever you were bratty with him and this was his chance but right now he had to take it slow so you could adjust that little throat of yours for him.
Them going back and forth added to your adrenaline and so you pulled off Toji’s dick watching as some of your spit dripped off his cock and onto the top of your breast. You locked eyes with him as you grabbed his cock with your freshly done nails, spitting on it with the spit you gathered from the hunger of taking his dick in your mouth. He threw his head back with one hand on the back of your head and the other one holding himself up on the window, looking down at you and the city was a treasure to him, “ You and the view behind you are so beautiful, keep sucking me like that~.”
Miguel hardened his features due to you only paying Toji attention when that wasn’t even true. Miguel was on your mind because your hands trailed to find his hair and you did grabbing it afterwards as his breath was fanning over your pussy and now his tongue is licking your clit through panties tasting your wetness, “ Fuck, pretty girl, thought you forgot about me for a sec. Thought I was gonna have to wrap this thing up and just fuck you by myself.”
Toji ignored him because you were gagging and sucking on his dick like a drainer. He was grabbing your hairstyle in his hands and dragged your head back and forth on his cock, bubbles and globs of spit were forming along his dick and at the base of his pants he had on. He couldn’t care less about the aftermath of his suit pants, “ God, I wish your spit was lathering up the base of my dick right now but I could take this as well, such a pretty little dick sucker. A fucking slut really. Perfect. Ugh fuck! I think I’m gonna bust.”
“ Mmm” and the sound of sucking your pussy and the sucking of his dick being sucked were heard around the room. Miguel already tore off your panties and sucked on your clit like a man sucking the water out of a coconut. He was hungry for your pussy and who could blame him when your pussy looked so cute and puffy for him. Miguel licked around your clit after sucking on it and then traveled his tongue down to your convulsing hole sticking his tongue right in, wiggling it around to savor any and everything producing out of your pussy, juice was all over his chin and was about to cover half of his face but he pulled away to catch a breath, “ shit, muñeca, your pussy is dripping for me. Mmmm, I could eat this pussy all day to get rid of my stress.” The slurping sounds that came after were pure heaven for all three of yall.
The drag of Miguel’s tongue going up and down your pussy pulled so many moans from you which only caused vibrations on Toji’s cock along with the gags of your throat from the constant bullying of his dick punching your throat, “ Ahhnn, Aah, I wanna cum down this filthy little throat of yours but I can’t right now, gotta, fuck!, save this for that fat pussy of yours.” Toji held you there for a little before dragging your mouth off his dick with a loud pop and gasp from you. Your squirmed around when you still felt Miguel’s tongue fucking your push with no mercy, especially with the little circles he was drawing with his tongue.
Toji got down on his knees after putting his cock inside of his pants for a bit and crawled next to Miguel, making you spear your legs even more. He latched his mouth against your clit sucking on it like a pomegranate while Miguel still had his tongue inside of your sweet little hole. They were both enjoying the way your body shook underneath them. Even though they’re tongues collided with each other when Toji licked up and down your pussy, they both enjoyed sucking and eating your pussy at the same time. Fuck you’re were cumming unannounced and theg only knew when your knocked their heads together with your thighs squeezing around both of their heads making them fall more in love with you. “ Hnngh, I- I can’t.”
Your moans were so beautiful like a chilling harmony to them. They watched as your cum leaked out and Miguel didn’t hesitate to lick it up— eventually making your squirt a little on them. Both of their eyes closed because your squirt was squirting right in their face and they weren’t mad at it especially when your screams were heard all around the office.
They finally stepped away from your pussy, Toji getting up first to get rid of his pants as Miguel followed after him getting rid of his pants as well. Your pants were loud and slowly became quiet, they were giving you a minute because in a minute you are gonna be begging for a break. You gulped before speaking to them, “ Show me what’s best for me since you two know what’s best for me.” You were always told your sarcasm is gonna get you in trouble one day, that day is today.
“ She was just squirming around and moving away from us vigorously, now she wants to turn her sarcasm back on, I’m not surprised, are you?”, Miguel says with a vicious smile showing the little vampire vang he had since he was born. You always loved his smile even if he barely shows it.
Toji chuckled while stroking his dick in his hand, “ no, no, this is { reader} we’re talking about, she a brat and I heard she’s been a brat her entire life from her poor little mommy. You gave your mom and dad hell, but you’re not gonna try that shit with us because we’re gonna fuck you back into place every. Single . Time.”
Miguel pulled you up by your bra, tearing it off as he pulled you up making you gasp and as you were about to complain he turned your around to Toji who was now sitting and waiting on the couch for you. Miguel put a big veiny hand over your mouth prior to putting his lips next to the shell of your ear to whisper, “ Shut that pretty little mouth, don’t wanna hear anything you got to say if it’s not worthy of making me cum. You might’ve been the responsible one, but you were also the bitchiest one. Not gonna play that shit with us, got that?” Your head was snatched back as you felt his dick starting to rub up and down the slit of your ass, “ Answer me.”
You looked in his darkened red eyes, nodding your head knowing damn well you were still gonna do what you wanted. You just needed their dicks right now. Killing part about it, both of them could tell you were lying and it amused them, so in turn, Miguel pushed you onto Toji who gladly gripped your love handles— sliding you down his cold dick making both of you let out tiny whimper of different curses “ fuck” “ shit”.
Miguel sat and watched for a minute until he saw you look back at him with a smile, “ Take me, mig’. Or are you too kissy to show no mercy on little ol’ me? You’re 6’9 Miguel, act li-”
As soon as you said the word mercy, he remembered the screams erupting from your brother as he ripped off his fingernails and fingers after. The word mercy was from what Toji said to him, “ Show him no mercy, Miguel. I mean after all, he took someone else other than his own parents from you. Your precious little daughter who was just with her mother doing what mothers and daughters do. He just had to mess it up and that caused your daughter and wife death. Show. Him. No. Mercy.” And he didn’t because his body was still sealed underneath the floorboard rotting away with no one to hear his screams. The floorboard of his own cabin. Yes, revenge.
But now, he wasn’t thinking about hurting you in that way. He was only thinking about hurting you so good. The way you want so he had no choice but to act in it and he did by grabbing your neck from behind you giving you a tight squeeze but not enough to kill or hurt you, “ You should’ve kept that pretty mouth close instead you had to let it run loose like that pussy is gonna be after we get done fucking her.” Toji knew you fucked up so he stopped and laid your head down to his chest as Miguel gripped your hips with his large hands. The moment he moved inside of you was the moment you lost all connection to the world around you.
Inside your mind, all you could see is the color white. It was so pretty on display in your mind and you forgot how to even speak strong sentences as you babbled any words that came to mind. When Miguel moved inside of you, ringing in his ears started going off loudly, this was incredible, you were incredible. “ Fuck~, can’t wait to have you to myself so I could fill you up all night and day without anyone stopping or being near us.” His words came out after his panting, making you moan at the sound of his voice. You were proud, you made him desperate like this.
Toji took you by surprise when he sucked on your nipple while twisting and rolling your other one causing you to throw your head back on Miguel’s shoulder. Your pleasure was through the roof and both could tell from the way you opened up around their cocks, taking them in willingly and boastfully. Miguel bit his lip with the movement of his head thrown back in ecstasy whilst moving his hips in and out of you. “ Shit, princess, your pu- Augh fuck!” His groans were cut off when you were trying to throw it back to him and Toji who was speechless under you.
Toji’s green eyes were so dark and filled with just as he flicked his tongue on your nipples with low moans escaping his mouth, “ My slutty little doll is taking us so well, I’m really surprised. Thought a - hahhh- nasty mouth slut like you wouldn’t be able to take us into that sweet little hole of yours.” You could not handle the way they were talking to you and moving inside of you. When Toji pulled his hips up, Miguel pulled out and it kept going. Having both of them inside of one hole was not what you were expecting, especially with the sudden fast pace it was going now. When you were so busy lost inside of your head, the two agreed to speed up the pounding, telepathically.
Miguel pulled your neck back, spitting in your mouth once he saw the opportunity– making you swallow it down your throat with no hesitation. He picked up his pace like a turbo and you couldn’t do anything except whisper how much you can’t take it and how much you hated them. A slap on your tits were from Toji and you started crying because of how good the impact felt on your skin. “ I can’t… pleasee, slow down. Mmph!” Toji snapped his hips into you nonstop at that, “ Safe word, now.” Miguel chuckled, “ Come on, pretty, give him the safe fucking- shit~ - squeeze me like that one more time {reader}.”
You didn’t know if it was a threat or command, but you did it unintentionally which caused him to land a hard smack on your ass. Your whimpers were heard as your eyes became like crystal drops on your lash line, “ { y/c/o/sw}, please don’t stop, I’m.. I’m almost there fuck~” They both smirked prior to Miguel leaning to sucking on your neck with his fang adding more pleasure to everything they’re doing to your body. Meanwhile Toji was holding onto your bouncy belly as he ducked into you, “ You’re fucking gorgeous like this on my cock, just watching your belly jiggle while we pound into you like the slut you are is heavenly.”
Miguel kept your head on his chest as Toji now had a thumb on your clit creating clockwise circles in your clitoris causing you to squeal loudly. You felt it, you felt the liquid spilling out of you as you bailed nonsense to them. The sounds of slapping skin, wet smacks, and water squirting out were heard with loud moans and groans. Your body was shaken as they used you just the way you wanted and have been wanting since forever. They knew you were going sensitive by the minute so they sped up even more making you scream out for more and more.
Miguel lowered his lips to your ear, “ Look at you, withering around our cock like the slut you are, bet you’re mommy and daddy are so proud of what their little girl is doing right now. What would your sibling, especially that wretched brother of yours, think when you’re being split open by your body guards in the broad daylight where someone could easily see through the windows?” He knew he might’ve pushed too far but he needed you to know that he hated you right now because of you reminding him of his wrong by saying the one word he hates “ mercy”, but he didn’t care in the end because you were moaning like a whore at every word he’s saying. Your babbles turned into multiple “sorries” and “ forgive me but it feels so good” all the while rolling your hips creating more juice flowing down their dicks and yours and their thighs.
Toji chuckled at the harshness from Miguel as he now rolled his hips up into you chasing his own orgasm, “ He’s right, what would your family think knowing you’re fucking the people they told you to stay away from and only entertain us when we - hhghh fucking bitch~-”. His moans invaded his thoughts and words and all three knew he was close. Trust me, Miguel wasn’t far behind him, he just wanted to make you cum first cause after all he was still a gentleman , a pissed one at the moment.
Toji gripped your stomach in between his thick fingers as he and Miguel slowed down and we’re just now rolling their hips in sync with each other, only moving in and out to let each other get a turn. He was going to finish his sentence in the process, “ only entertain us when we serve you. How shallow of your family to set you up with a man that’s no good for you and this pussy of yours. From now on, you’re our little slut. Would you mind being ours, sweetheart?” When he said the word slut, his hips snapped against yours three times dragging his cock alongside of your walls every time he thrusted inside. Your nails dug into his chest as your head snapped back— eyes rolling to the back of your head, going completely dumb.
You both came at the same time and it felt wonderful until you felt yourself getting overstimulated from Miguel still thrusting inside of your pussy in want and hunger. He had his head in between your neck, biting your shoulder as he bursten his hips forward into your ass. The ripples were enough for him to cum inside of you— filling you up even more. Both of you and Toji moaned at the sensation of his dick pumping inside of you. His cock against Toji’s caused Toji to become even more sensitive since he already had your pussy clamping down on him and Miguel at the same time.
“ aaahh fuck~, that’s right, my perfect slut. So good… so good.”, Miguel didn’t even care if he was babbling because the only thing he could think about was you. You were his everything, but he and Toji still needed an answer.
After the heaving died down, you spoke up, “ Would round two confirm the answer to your question Toji? Miguel?”
You all were still shaking against one another and they were still inside of you, so you got your answer when both of their cocks started to get fully hard whilst inside of you. Miguel kissed your forehead and Toji kissed your hand. “ Does that answer your question, my muñeca?” Toji lips curved into a no teeth smile, “ Yeah, princess, does it?”
Tagging: @shunsuist @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @thehanging-gardens @bontens-angel and anymore who wants to join
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Because I'm a sucker for seeing Vox lose it over RadioApple, and also them dancing, maybe a thing where RadioAaple both a little tipsy, dance in Lucifer's room late at night. Vox sees them on his drone and freaks because 1) Alastor is letting himself be unguarded with a person 2) Alastor is dancing and 3) Alastor has, in fact, made nice with the King like Vox was afraid of. Very nice by the looks of it.
“Do you ever think you may have a problem?”
That was Velvette, who was using her best “let’s not piss off the crazy man” voice.
“No.”
“Not even a little one?”
“No.”
Valentino and Velvette exchanged telling looks, which Vox promptly ignored. He had more important things to worry about, like keeping this stupid drone in the air. Maneuvering the machine itself was easy, but getting around the electromagnetic force field Alastor had set up around the hotel’s perimeter was a whole lot trickier. Vox had been flying in circles for hours, trying to find a weak spot in Alastor’s defenses.
(He knew it’d been hours because Velvette had started shooting worried glances at him around hour two, Valentino had showed up around hour five, and they’d started a game of rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was going to do a wellness check on him around hour six.)
“Ah-ha!” Vox screamed, jabbing both fists in the air when the force field flexed and glitched, creating a half second window of opportunity. He urged the drone forward, barely zipping past before the shield re-formed. “Boo-yah! Who’s your daddy?”
Valentino smirked and took in a long drag of his pipe. “Vox, baby, not outside the bedroom.”
Vox’s metal heart – the same one he always denied having – started beating faster as the camera zoomed closer and closer to the hotel. He zipped to Alastor’s radio tower first, then his room, frowning slightly when all he found was a half-eaten deer, a cooling cup of coffee, and a discarded coat.
From behind him, Velvette clapped her hands with an annoyed huff of relief. “Oh, well, looks like the asshole is out. Too bad, so sad. Can we please get back to something actually fucking important?”
But Vox shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s 11 o’clock. Alastor usually finishes his business before seven so he can have dinner at eight, or else he gets too hungry to do–” He trailed off when he saw the look on both their faces. They were both staring at him as if he was a terminal patient, come down with an incurable case of Alastor-itis.
He sighed and re-focused on the screen. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay?”
The library. The lobby. The kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be found.
Then Vox had a horrible thought. He remembered the rumors flying around town, the wild laughs of excitement and the curses emanating from the hotel recently. He remembered Alastor’s most recent broadcast (“Folks, when living with an annoying roommate, always remember to assert your dominance wherever possible”). And most of all, he remembered Alastor’s smug face as he strolled down the street, humming merrily to himself as he twirled an unfamiliar white top hat on his staff.
He remembered the strange apple that had appeared on the top right of the hotel, just down the hall from Alastor.
His heart in his throat, he slowly moved the drone higher, then higher still. Don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there –
Velvette and Vox went quiet at the scene that appeared on the screen. Alastor was there all right, but he wasn’t alone. As if he’d suddenly downloaded a virus, Vox could only process what he was seeing in chunks.
He saw the record player first, oddly enough. An old-timey song was playing, static crackling and popping as a low sweet croon, somehow both deep and high, filled the room. 25%.
The room was dark, but a few candles and duck-shaped lamps were gleamed with a heavenly light, washing the pair slowly revolving in the center of the room in a seductive golden glow. 50%.
The king of hell was there. The expression on his face was…tender. His head was tucked into Alastor’s narrow chest, one hand on Alastor’s shoulder and the other clasped in Alastor’s hand. His eyes were sparkling, almost overfilled with a nameless emotion that Vox knew all too well. Alastor’s hand was curled around his waist protectively (possessively). 75%.
And finally, Vox saw Alastor. Really saw him, as if for the first time, because this wasn’t his Alastor. His Alastor was always one step ahead, always untouchable, cold, cruel, and capable of truly unspeakable acts of violence with an effortless charm that made his blood boil with envy and need at the same time.
But the Alastor in front of him…his coat was off. For the first time in fifty years, Vox saw Alastor’s bare skin, his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he allowed another living soul to see him undressed. Unguarded. His eyes, always so alert and aware, were closed.
Worst of all was his smile. It looked soft. Gentle – or whatever passed for gentle with Alastor. As Vox watched, Lucifer’s lips moved. The words were too soft for the drone to pick up, but whatever it was, Alastor laughed. Not in a mocking or teasing way, but an actual, genuine laugh, as if Alastor was a real boy with a real heart.
100%.
Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Vox through the screen. The wicked smirk that curled his lips was the last thing the drone ever saw as it glitched, red shaking and warping the feed until it went completely dead, and the three of them were left staring at a black screen.
Silence reigned. Then – “Well, I’ll be. Looks like the deer found himself a doe.”
Velvette shot Valentino a warning look, then took a hesitant step forward. “Vox – “ Velvette started, but Vox started cackling. Wild, out of control, utterly insane laughs ripped from his wires as his monitor-face went haywire.
“I am going to kill that motherfucker!”
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strong for you || j.pt
Jason comes home injured, prepared to patch up and rest with you, but he soon realizes something isn't right.
❤️🩹 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
❤️🩹 Genres/AUs: Action, some angst & fluff, established relationship
❤️🩹 Warnings: Use of guns, mentions of killing, hostage situation, blood, injuries, reader referred to as girl
❤️🩹 Word Count: 2.3k
❤️🩹 Author's Note: Just felt like writing more Jason 🥰
masterlist
Jason uses the rest of his strength to lift open the window. His panting grows louder after he tumbles inside, feeling a bit safer in his home. He doesn’t have to worry about people hearing him in pain and taking advantage of his weakened state.
He knows you’ll be by his side in a matter of seconds. He hates how he came home injured since it always worries you, but he rather be hurt here than anywhere else.
His eyes shut tightly as he tries to calm down. It’s becoming harder to breathe under his helmet. He feels suffocated. He needs fresh air.
With a shaky hand, he begins to raise it to unlatch his helmet. However, an all too familiar click makes him halt; his eyes open wide and he forces his breathing to slow so he can hear better.
It’s then he realizes you should’ve been tending to him by now. You should be easing him out of his suit as you comfort and scold him simultaneously.
He lowers his arm as slowly as he can, worried whoever it is will act irrationally if he moves too quickly. Maybe if he was somewhere else and not injured, he would’ve leaped up and snatched the weapon from their hand.
But he can’t.
He’s home. He can’t put you in any more danger.
In slow motion, he turns his head to assess the scene.
There are five men in total. Each has a rifle in their hands, accompanied by a handgun on their hips. You’re seated on one of the dining table chairs that’s been moved, hands and feet tied together. You’re staring at him with big eyes—a mix of worry and panic.
Jason curses to himself mentally.
You’re already fearful of being held captive, but now you’re fearful of his wound too.
He already knows what questions are floating in your head: How deep is it? How much blood has he lost already? Are there any more injuries?
Jason hates that he was stupid tonight. He hates how out of all the nights to have fucked up, he fucked up tonight. But that doesn’t stop his determination. He’ll power through the pain if it means you’ll be safe in the end.
You turn your head to the man on your right. He holds himself to a different status than the others. The amount of confidence this man must have makes Jason want to gag.
“I’ll give you the files if you let me tend to his wounds,” you bargain.
Macho Boss smirks down at you before moving his sight to Jason.
“Well, you’re surely an unexpected guest. Didn’t think one of the bats would come to rescue a mere civilian when there are bigger crimes out on the streets,” he observes, then glances at you. “I guess this one’s special, huh?”
Jason suspects that this guy thought he could get away with his act since he’s not committing a big crime, compared to others in Gotham. Illegal activities happen all the time here, right? Jason almost snorts at his bad luck.
Macho Boss nudges your shoulder with the barrel of his gun. The cold metal touches your bare skin exposed by your cardigan, making you shiver. It must’ve fallen in your scuffle earlier.
Jason narrows his eyes at him even though his glare is hidden by his helmet. He’s grateful he etched a permanent scowl on it now. He wants your captors to know that despite being injured, he’s still got enough strength to incapacitate them.
“Please,” you grab the captor’s attention again. “Let me help him.”
“Why should I let you? His injury means he’s weak. I can’t let him stop us, now can I?” he questions, slightly mockingly.
“You can tie him up after I’m done.”
“Like hell you will,” Jason gruffs and the other person holding a gun to his head jabs him with it.
You send him a glare—signaling it isn’t the time to be snarky. Jason rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything more.
“Do you want the files?” you ask Macho Boss.
“You’re going to give us them whether we let you play nurse or not.”
“Perhaps, but you’re wasting time. Why take the hard way when I’m offering to give them up so easily?”
The man hums in thought. Finally, he nods at the man to your left.
Within seconds, your ropes have been cut. You gesture to the bathroom.
“First aid is in there,” you inform and carefully make your way to the room.
One of the men follows you, gun pointed to your head. You expect nothing less.
If they weren’t here, you’d be rushing to the kit, but any sudden movements will get them trigger-happy.
Your movements are slow as you retrieve the first aid along with a wet washcloth. You make your way to kneel beside Jason. Blood continues to seep through his fingertips, creating a pool of red beneath him. You fight back the worry consuming you.
You gently guide his hand from the wound so you can begin cleaning it.
Jason watches you for a second before shifting his gaze to the others. They’re staring at you both, weapons aimed. They seem impatient and ready to fire.
“You should be making a run for it,” Jason says to you lowly. Though it doesn’t matter the volume of his voice, it’s so quiet that everyone will hear him regardless.
“And get shot in the back? No thanks,” you argue, setting the bloodied rag to the side to start patching him up.
Jason wants to reply he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d have his hands on his guns, shooting everyone before you could get hurt. But he doesn’t want them to know how much he cares about you. Perhaps that’s a fruitless wish since they’ve probably already gauged their affection from their body language.
Jason grunts when you touch a certain area. He’s been trying to keep his cool—for the sake of seeming stronger than he appears to his captors, and for the sake of your sanity.
Your eyes move to his helmet, and there’s a silent “sorry” in your expression. He can tell you’re trying to appear strong, too.
All Jason wants to do is fill these guys’ heads with lead, then snuggle you in bed.
As you continue attending to his wound, he asses his options. He could quickly shield you with his body while he took out the men, but even then, he wouldn’t be able to move and risk the potential of you getting shot. The thought about tossing you out of the window since there’s a fire escape there is strong—get you out of harm’s way so he doesn’t have to worry about you in the crossfire.
Jason’s thoughts get interrupted when you lean in. He watches quietly as you kiss his helmet softly. His lips twitch in an immediate response, but then he feels something slip into his palm.
Clever girl.
With one hand, he slips the small knife you gave him up his sleeve; with the other, he caresses your back. He hopes his action distracts the men from the quick exchange.
You pull away carefully as Macho Boss grits out, “Touching. You done now?”
“Yes,” you reply.
The second the word leaves your lips, a pair of hands are pulling you from Jason roughly.
Jason quickly begins to stand but a heavy boot stomps on his fresh wound, forcing him down again. He breathes in a sharp inhale at the impact, head tilting back and fists clenching.
“Red!” you gasp, struggling against your captor’s hold. More so for his health and safety than yours.
“Relax, love,” Macho Boss coos, but it’s nothing close to soothing. “You can’t expect us to trust your buddy here.”
Then, he turns to the person who’s pinning him down. “Tie him up.”
“You better be treating me to dinner after,” Jason huffs.
Suddenly, Jason’s hauled up and shoved into a nearby chair. His arms get pulled back, forcing a grunt out of him because of his injury. His feet are then secured.
“What a charmer,” Macho Boss scoffs. “Now, the files.”
Your gaze lingers on Jason to make sure he’ll be okay before walking to your bedroom where your laptop is.
“Put me in that room,” Jason demands as he watches you leave.
“Not a chance. You can sit pretty with me right here,” the man behind him says.
Jason clenches his fists as you disappear from view. There are only three of them in the room now. Two went with you.
Easy.
Jason shimmies the blade low enough to reach the rope around his wrists. He waits a few minutes for everyone’s focus to dim before beginning to slice at the material.
“So what’s Red Hood doing in some rando’s apartment, hm?” Capture Two says.
Jason shrugs, subtly cutting the rope as he speaks, “Would you believe me if I said I have a magical power that lets me sense trouble? Because wow… My inner crime detector was blaring.”
Captor Two huffs in annoyance. “Yeah right. You probably got cameras set up around here.”
Jason catches on to the man’s agenda: Find the location of the cameras so they can take them out next time.
“There’s even one over there,” Jason says with a nod to the left.
“There is?” the guy questions and turns.
The second he does, Jason breaks through the rope and disarms and knocks out the man behind him. Gunfire erupts and Jason quickly takes cover in the kitchen nearby.
“Fucking liar,” Captor Two growls.
Jason laughs. “Sorry, man. Let me make it up to you.”
Jason peeps around the cabinets and aims with proficient precision. Two down, one to go.
Upon hearing the scuffling in the living room, you quickly retrieve the gun that’s taped under the desk. For once, you’re grateful for Jason hiding guns around the apartment.
Before you can second guess your actions, you shoot Macho Boss in the kneecap before ducking and shooting the second man in the same place. Once they’re both down, you take away their guns in case they try anything on the ground.
Jason rushes into the room hearing the gunshots, both pistols raised. He pauses in his trek when he sees you—seemingly unharmed—standing between the two men on the ground.
The men are groaning, blood soaking the carpet he vacuumed yesterday.
“Next time come when the carpet is already dirty,” he says before slamming the heel of his gun onto his head—knocking him out. He walks to the second guy and does the same. It’s tough for him to do so since he really just wants to shoot them instead, but he told Bruce he’d attempt his no-killing rule. It’s day four, and he already feels like giving up.
“Nice teamwork,” you comment and place the guns on the desk.
Jason stuffs his pistols in his holsters before he unlatches his helmet. He tosses the item on the bed, then pulls you close until his mouth captures yours in a heated kiss.
You yelp in surprise into his mouth. Jason smiles at the sound and squeezes your body tightly against his armored one.
When you pull back, you’re looking at him with a silly smile.
“Don’t tell me all this is what gets you hot and bothered?” you tease, fingertips gliding down his chest gradually.
Jason grins and pecks your lips with a proud grin. “Can’t help it. You’re sexy when you’re in action.”
You laugh, pushing at his chest until he’s loosening his grip reluctantly. “You’re sexy too.”
Jason can’t resist but lean in again, although this kiss is shorter.
“You okay?” he asks, mood turning serious. He holds you at arm’s length to examine your body.
“I’m okay, don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”
“Nothing but a flesh wound,” he beams.
You shake your head and glance around the untidy room.
“Can you call Dick or someone to clean this up while we go to a safe house?” you plead, too lazy to help with the cleanup. You just want to sleep with Jason next to you.
“We don’t need him. I’ll take care of it,” Jason informs and bends to pick up one of the men.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself more, Jay,” you sigh, words meaningless as he throws the second body over his shoulder like a sack of rice.
“I’ll be fine, babe. Give me ten then we can cuddle. I know that’s what you want.” He smiles knowingly.
You roll your eyes playfully at his light tone. He isn’t wrong, but you wish he wouldn’t exert all his energy now when he’s injured.
But this is Jason.
Stubborn ass.
Jason takes two trips to carry the men out. You rest your elbows on the window seal, watching him drag the unconscious men in a small circle with their backs to each other. He takes a chain and secures it tightly around them. You think he’s done but he pulls out a paper. You squint, leaning a little out the window.
Sprawled in black ink is:
BAD GUYS FOR PICK UP
Jason steps back to admire his work, then turns to look at you. Although you can’t see his expression due to his helmet, the two thumbs up he gives you indicate there's a smile adorning his handsome features beneath.
Chuckling, you shake your head playfully and return the thumbs up before nodding to come back inside.
Your gaze follows the tall man as he struts back toward the building. You tuck yourself inside, shutting and locking the window as you stare at the silly paper with his handwriting.
He wouldn’t be your Jason if he wasn’t mischievous. After all, it’s one of his many talents.
©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY
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You Left Me - You Miss Me - 4
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Hi, time for more, arguably making things better, but also arguably making things much worse.
----
There was a diner a block and a half from their apartment. Steve found it when the sky opened up during his jog one morning. Snow, he could have handled, he was dressed for it. Slushy sleet mixed with hail was another matter. He ducked inside to hide until it passed, chatted with the owner for a bit, and brought Robin with him the next day because they had an amazing spread of waffle toppings, including crumbled bacon, and Steve knew she’d go crazy about it.
He was correct, and it was their go to spot, not just for breakfast.
At the end of January, Rebecca sat down to join them, and handed Steve an application.
Steve was already working at a JC Penny in the stock room, and picked up a few hours at a roller rink filling in when someone called out. They had enough money to live. Not decadently, but they could cover all their bills, and keep gas in the car, and buy supplies for Robin’s classes.
“Uh, Rebecca, I’m- thank you? But. My memory sucks, and my hearing isn’t great, and if someone starts getting rude, I’m going to get rude back to them, and --”
“This is a diner, hun,” she stopped him, “You write the orders down, you can always tell someone to say it again, and the fact you can shut down anyone that gives you lip is why I think you’ll be good at it. Like I said, it’s a diner. We don’t have to be all sunshine and daisies here.”
��I’m working at another--”
“Over at the mall and the rink, I know. And I know you’re free Monday through Wednesday mornings. And,” she stressed, “staff gets free meals and first dibs on the day olds.”
“Dingus!" Robin gasped and grabbed his arm. "Do it, do it. Stevie. Please, oh my god, please, you have to take it. You can bring me the brioche buns. And that apple butter. And that thing with the nuts! Steeevveee, don’t you love your soulmate? Please? I cou--”
So Steve took the job, and worked a few mornings a week. By the third week of February, he stopped feeling like he was going to fuck up any second. He understood why Rebecca liked his ability to get bitchy in the face of difficult customers, and he and Robin had cupboards well stocked with random take homes.
He liked it. Starting at five in the morning took some getting used to, but he was done by one, and traded off with a middle aged mom named Susan after the lunch rush settled down. Was it a ton of money? No. But he got more tips than he expected to, and the brioche really was delicious.
The last week of February, he was working alone on a Tuesday, at the start of the lunch rush, expecting Susan to arrive soon, and an easy day.
“Be with you in a minute,” he called to whoever just came inside, bussing half a dozen empty plates from table two after dropping off more creamer at table four. He looped back, ducking behind the counter to put the plates on the pass through for Nick to grab.
He dropped the entire stack before he got there.
His hands clenched down, his muscles locked, and even though it should have made him hold harder, everything slipped, and either shattered on the tiles or banged into his feet.
Jim Hopper winced from his seat at the counter. “Sorry, kid.”
The couple of other diners glanced up to check on him, and John looked around the window from the kitchen. Steve didn’t move. Couldn't. Could barely breathe.
“Is it back?”
“No.”
His exhale shook out of him before he shoved down the panic.
“Then whatever this is can wait.”
“I’m just here to talk.”
“And I said it can wait.”
He swept up the broken dishes, shrugged off John’s silent offer to throw Hopper out, and reminded himself there was no reason to think that the Upside Down was back. That meant this was going to be more awkward and less dangerous, and he was going to hate it, but it was still the better version of the day.
“What’ll you have?”
“Kid, I’m here to talk cause I didn’t think you’d want me at your place.”
“And I’m at work, and this is a diner, so what’ll you have?”
“Steve--”
“I’ll bring you coffee. I’m not talking about this while I’m working.”
“Coffee’s good. When are you off?”
Steve gave his bitchiest smile, didn’t answer, and went to seat the couple that just walked in.
The lunch rush was a mercy. Susan handled Hopper, and gave him the iciest service anyone had ever gotten under that roof. Hopper took it gracefully, but he didn’t shift, or push, or give any indication that he wasn’t willing to sit there til midnight if he had to.
Normally, Steve would get some lunch to go and head home. If the weather was bad, he ate at the booth in the corner to wait it out. With the way his stomach was twisting, unable to separate Hopper from what his arrival could mean, he wasn’t going to keep food down. He filled a glass of water, then silently gestured Hop to follow.
“Good to see you, Steve,” he said when they sat. “You and Robin doing okay up here?”
“We’re fine. Why are you here? If it isn’t something to do with, you know, then why are you here?”
“Maybe I just came up to check on you.”
“Did you?” Steve snorted into his drink when that question made Hopper’s face twist up. “So what is this?”
“I am here to check on you. There’s something else, but I came here because I’m checking on you. Me and you weren’t all that close, but you had Mrs Buckley give me your info so I’d know where you were.”
“Yeah, in case of an emergency. And you said there wasn’t any emergency. Plus, you had my phone number, so you could have called, which would be way less weird than showing up while I’m at work, you know?”
Hopper scratched at his cheek. “It’s not an emergency compared to all the reasons you wanted me to be able to find you, but if you ask those kids, this may as well be the end of the world again.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Yeah, well. Henderson is gonna get himself arrested if he keeps trying to steal the mail and find something addressed to you. Max keeps pushing El to try and find you. The only reason they haven’t gone completely crazy is because of the Buckleys telling them that you’re fine. She gave me your address and number, and she talked for a little bit about the kids.”
Steve smiled at that. Mrs Buckley had never talked a ‘little bit’ about anything in her life. Either she was holding the line on being rude to anyone that might bother them, or Hop was pretending he hadn’t listened to a solid hour of rambling.
“Still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“Want to ask if I can -- shit, I don’t know. I can route mail back and forth so they never have your address or something. I’d rather give them your info so I don’t have to be involved, but I already know you won’t agree to that.”
Steve ignored the pause that Hopper left there. Conversation and good manners said he should concede to something so he wouldn’t inconvenience the man too much. The last month with Robin supporting his choice kept his mouth shut. She’d be pissed at him if he folded, and worse, she’d help him get through all the pain it caused if he did talk to the kids again. Then he’d feel guilty and sad.
“Alright,” Hopper grumbled, “Didn’t think you would, but you know how those kids can be. Can’t fault me for trying.”
“So, we’re done? You sat here all this time just to talk for three minutes?”
“Almost.”
“So….” At least Steve could enjoy the fact that neither of them were enjoying this. Hopper winced a bit before he spoke.
“I didn’t tell any of the kids I was coming up to see you. None of them knew, and none of them are gonna know. Didn’t even tell Joyce why, just that I was driving up to Indy. Already had a plan in case they tried to tail me up here. So, had a surprise this morning when I got to my truck. it might change your answer.”
“Didn’t know you were so dramatic about stuff.”
“Side effect of two hours with that surprise, I guess. Eddie Munson came up with me.”
Any of the kids would have hurt.
Henderson might have made him cry.
Eddie Munson? That didn’t make sense.
They weren’t friends, never had been. The Upside Down meant they were connected, but they were never more than acquaintances, even when Steve was desperately trying to keep them all close. Sure, he’d taken over as the chauffeur for the kids, and everyone’s new best friend, but that didn’t explain why he’d bother to come up to talk to Steve.
“What the hell? Why?”
“He asked.”
“And you said yes.”
“He said please.”
That was not the whole story. There was something getting skipped over, left out. Hopper tolerated Munson, but he wouldn’t do him a favor if there wasn’t some kind of monster involved.
“Wait, you’ve been here for two hours.”
“Yep.”
“Did you just leave him in your truck this whole time? That front came through overnight. The high is thirty four today.”
“Yeah, I did,” Hopper said flatly. “He told me he wanted to come up so he could talk to you. Told me a little bit about why. And I said yes and I let him come, but I told him that I was gonna talk to you first. If you said no, he was gonna stay in that seat clear back to Hawkins, and keep his mouth shut about this whole thing.”
“How’d he know what you were doing?”
“No clue.”
“What does he want to talk about?”
“Not gonna say it for him.” Hopper shifted towards the edge of the booth. “So, want me to tell him to buckle back up, or tell him to get his ass in here?”
A quick consult with the imaginary Robin in his head left him just as confused, but curious as hell. He agreed, and fidgeted with a napkin, struggling to think of any reason why Eddie Munson would want to talk to him, or what the hell he said that the kids hadn’t that convinced Hopper to drive him up.
Stuck in his head, Steve jumped when a mess of a man in denim and leather slid shivering into the seat opposite. The scars on his face and hands were less vivid than they were last time they saw each other, but they still worked as a thermometer. Steve's did the same.
“Why the hell were you sitting in the cold, man?”
Eddie blinked, and froze where he was rubbing his hands together trying to get feeling back. “Hopper took the keys.”
Steve’s turn to blink. This was the guy taking care of his kids.
“Susan?” He called, gesturing for two when she lifted the coffee carafe in a question.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here or why you care or what the hell is happening, but I’m not gonna let you sit there shaking cause you’re a dumbass who doesn’t know what gloves are.”
Steve watched packet after packet of sugar pour into Eddie’s, while he stirred a splash of half and half into his own cup. Eddie took a gulp, hissed at the heat, and clutched at the mug, eyes glued to the nicked surface of the table.
“I’m sorry.”
“For rotting your teeth out? That’s your choice, Munson.”
“No,” Eddie insisted, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry about the kids.”
Steve took a breath, took a sip, took another breath. “Look, man, that’s not on you. You play D&D with them, and you like all their nerdy shit. I was -- They grew up. We got through everything, all of that, we won, and they grew up. It’s not your fault that they like you more than they liked me. So, thanks, I guess, but--”
“Steve. No. They didn’t. They -- those kids did not suddenly grow up and decide they didn’t like you anymore. You are their favorite person anywhere, ever, you will be for the rest of eternity, and they don’t understand why no one will tell them how to reach you. They put on a really good show about being mad about it, but, come on, you know what they’re like. They want to apologize cause they know they hurt you, and they want to fix it, and just, you gotta let them try, Steve. You gotta let them talk to you. They miss you so fucking much.”
“Look, I know how they get, and I know how dramatic they are, but it’s still not your fault--”
“It is. Steve. It is my fault. That’s - That’s why you have to talk to them. Cause they didn’t grow up and get over you or decide they didn’t care about you. Those kids are crazy about you, and they never stopped, and they’re hurt right now cause they don’t understand why you left them, and you gotta fix it with them, please.”
Something pinged weird in his ear when he heard the way Munson’s voice cracked. Not just worry, not just helping, not just caring about the kids. Guilt. He was taking the blame for it, even though that didn’t make any sense. The kids were - brats, gremlins, terrors, the most stubborn people he’d ever met, and he knew Nancy Wheeler. If they wanted to be around him, they would be around him.
It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, or anyone’s fault. It hurt like hell, and Steve wished it wasn’t true, but this was just life. Kids grew up, their interests moved. Friendships changed and ended.
But that crack of guilt…
“How is it your fault and not theirs that they stopped wanting to ever see me?”
Eddie’s hands stopped shaking from the cold before he got the coffee.
His hands were shaking again.
Trembled in the time between Steve asking, and Eddie managing to respond.
“I, uh, I asked them to.”
----
Don't be too mad at him yet. He has a lot more to say.
Part Five >>>
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Repentance
Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader
('Burn' gifs are limited and this was hotter. Sue me.)
Summery: You know the phrase 'sleeping angels?' Yeah, not in this fucking house. Pretty soon it's gonna be you or him, but Billy may have a trick or two up his sleeve to provide a happy ending for you both
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specified genitals for Reader, prequel/standalone fic for 'My Ghost' but not required reading to enjoy this fic, ('My Ghost' may even be enhanced if you read this first, I'll be fr.) Porn with plot (if you are only here for plot, the porn is only in the second half and is easily skippable), snoring, Reader is sleep deprived, non-serious threats of violence, mentions of gun violence, banter, make-up sex, drug usage/alcohol consumption, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Reader goes mostly non-verbal after smoking but their thoughts don't, dumbification, Reader gets spoiled and folds like a lawn chair me too bitch me too, massage turning into sex, doggy style, Reader gets that good dick that knocks their head into a wall, vocal! Billy, dirty talk/talking through it, pet names, possessive sex, mentions of wet dreams, happy ending for everyone :)
Other Works in This Series: 'My Ghost' (Original) • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')
Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble and it was not gonna contain smut. What can I say, when the holy spirit of a short man with big brown eyes compels you, you compel him into your bitch. Anyways, this was inspired by this headcanon written by @g0ry0re0! So if you liked this fic, please thank her as well in the comments and go support her works because this wouldn't exist without it!! They're a fucking great writer as well.
-¤°》◇《°¤-
Have you ever killed a man?
I might.
Listen, I'm not a bitch. I'm not unreasonable even though that was a hell of an opening statement. But if you'd dealt with the shit I've put up with for the past few nights, you would understand.
How can a man who's not even that fucking large in stature make such noise? What the fuck is wrong with him?
I kick him to try and hit a reset button. It works for five minutes, which is long enough for me to begin to relax again. Right before his snoring revs up like the engine of that bike he loves parked on our front lawn. Maybe I'll run him over with it. Be poetic, take him out with his own weapon. Don't the reports show just how deadly motorcycles are compared to regular cars? It's bad for your health.
Okay, I'm assuming that bit because I'm tired, I'm cold, and Billy won't shut the fuck up. It was a little cute when he was just spending the night and we were hardly sleeping. But now that he actually lives here?
Kick. Stop. Wait. Snore.
Goddammit.
Billy has the fucking audacity to greet me with a smile this morning. Sitting at my fucking table, smoking from the ashtray I fucking made him. He should be ashamed to look so good with no shirt on, displaying his chest hair for the whole neighborhood to see as he sits near the open window with coffee set in front of him like he owns the damn place.
"Morning beautiful," he says with a smile. What fucking nerve does he have to sit there and act so happy about while I hate him?
"You snore," I growl. His eyebrows shoot into the air, this son of a bitch has the nerve to widen his smile.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said you fucking snore," I repeat.
"Don't think I've heard that complaint before," he says, shifting in his seat to look at me better. I don't like the way he looks in those sweatpants, grey and hugging the wrong areas for my attitude.
"You haven't dated anyone long enough for someone to complain about it," I mutter under my breath. His eyes focus on the oversized shirt I wear that alright, maybe I stole from the drawer I stash his things in that I now claim as mine. We live together, it's inevitable, fucking fight me. Watching me as I walk into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot off the dock and pouring some into my cup.
"Something I can do to make up for it, shirt thief?" He asks, leaning back in his seat and manspreading, his hands on his horribly thick thighs. "I was wondering where that one went," he mutters to himself, amused.
"Yeah. See a fucking doctor."
It's day five. I'm genuinely considering homicide.
Dear God, or Allah, or whoever you are. If I shouldn't suffocate this man, give me a sign.
...does the short snore that escapes Billy's mouth count?
It doesn't matter what I do. If I turn him onto his side, if I kick him, if I shove ear buds in and blast whatever music I can sleep to at max volume, he's louder and I'm on my last straw. It's him or me.
"William," I say, poking my head up from the old pillow.
No response.
Maybe it's safe.
Maybe he's dead.
Maybe he'll stay quiet.
I lay my head down once more.
"...what?"
"You fucking snore."
"I'm sorry baby," he slurs in half baked consciousness, turning to wrap his arm around my waist as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the back of my neck. "Can I make it up to you?"
"Yeah, let me sleep."
"Sleep is for the weak."
I am weak. I am very, very weak.
"Put your dick away."
"It isn't out."
"I can still feel it."
With a grumble and his face buried in my hair, he abandons his quest in favor of returning to whatever dreams make him keep me up at night. And I am so close to joining him when he starts back up hardly two minutes later. Right in my ear.
With a final huff, I tear the blanket off of him and stomp my bleary eyed way to the living room. Fucker is too sleepy to even notice. Fuck him.
I'm not amused when I wake up in the ungodly hours of the morning sprawled on the couch, Billy's foot in my face as early morning light peaks through the shitty blinds.
"You followed me," I groan, my voice rough with sleep.
"I followed blanket," he slurs.
"It's mine."
"I was cold."
"You snore."
"I've offered consolation, you should take it."
"William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.
"Fucking what?"
"Have you ever shot a man?" I repeat slowly, properly enunciating each word.
Billy's eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide but still tinted from sleep.
"...no?"
"I've considered it," I tell him. "There's a gun in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."
Billy presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing I'm not serious but that I'm on the last straw.
"... should I go back to bed?"
"I can go back to bed," I say. "You can stay on the couch."
"That's a great idea."
"I'll take the blanket."
"You do that."
It's only two hours later when I'm woken by the alarm, and the smell of sausage is fresh on the air. Even if it was short, the sleep in solitude feels refreshing, no interruptions from Yellowstone volcano on the other side.
When I wander into the kitchen he's in the midst of finishing his preparations for a feast. And by feast I mean a fuck load of eggs with sriracha on top and plenty of sausages to go with it. There's also a pile of toast, the bottle of homemade cinnamon sugar next to the stick of butter besides it.
"Morning beautiful," Billy tries carefully, eyeing me as I lean against the hallway doorframe. "Coffee's on the table."
Whatever I said earlier- which may or may not be blurry to me at this point -has clearly changed his attitude. He's even set out the hazellenut creamer for me, a treat.
"Did you sleep well?" He asks, setting a heaping plate in front of me. I don't know how to tell him I'm too sleepy to eat.
"Better," I say. I take a slice of cinnamon covered toast, trying to convince my stomach to wake up. "Kinda cold, though."
He smiles softly at that, setting down his own plate to join me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I return the smile, taking a small bite of the corner of my toast. He takes a sip of coffee and brushes his foot against mine under the table. The silence is sweet, apart from the radio just ever so quietly playing in the background to add to the calm morning atmosphere Billy has created for me. His hair is ruffled from sleep, his hand nervously fiddling with the thin chain around his neck. He glances at me, smiles apprehensively, then breaks the silence.
"Do you actually own a gun?" He asks, trying so hard to sound casual.
My brows furrow before I realize what he's referencing, letting out a loud laugh and almost dropping my toast in the process.
"I'm not gonna shoot you, Billy," I laugh, trying so hard to maintain my composure.
"Last night you called me William. I did not like that," he laughs nervously.
"William, I will not shoot you."
"My mother calls me that, I don't want you and my mom calling me the same name."
"Willy-"
"Fuck you," he groans, laughing. "You're terrifying."
"When I don't sleep," I add for him. He nods, eyes wide and brows raising in agreement. "Did you seriously make breakfast because you were worried I owned a gun?"
"When you meet the devil, you meet demands," he says. I kick at his foot playfully, giggling.
"The devil doesn't really eat breakfast."
"I know, I packed lunch too."
Fuck free will, I should've done the gun thing a long time ago. When I walk back into the ramshack house that evening fresh off my shift, Billy has dinner, a bowl and a bath prepared for me upon my return.
"I did not take your comments seriously and I'm sorry," he says genuinely, taking my coat. "I should have and you have suffered. Consider this repentance."
"Repentance is nice. You hide the gun too while you were at it?" I ask.
"I'm not answering that."
Billy may be many things, and a cook is one of them. It's simple, fresh, and nice after a long day. The backrub I'm getting while I eat makes the flavors even sweeter.
"I feel an urge to clarify my threat was not serious," I joke between bites, taking a sip of the wine Billy had run out and gotten special for the night.
"I'm well aware, but this is overdue anyways," he says softly. "You're mine and you deserve nice nights." He presses a warm kiss to the spot just under my ear, making me blush. "My baby needs spoiled."
"Well, I certainly feel spoiled," I say contently, finishing the last bite. I lean back in my chair, letting him explore my neck as his gentle hands work their way through my many knots, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the while.
"Wait until I tell you what kinds of oils I slipped in your bath as well," he whispers in my ear.
If this is repentance, he should snore more often.
I'm stoned, zoned, and completely naked across the bed as Billy carefully massages my legs, phone propped on a spare pillow beside my head as I stare blankly at the show in front of me.
His hands are slick with oil, gliding across my skin with ease as he works at a knot on the back of my calf.
"I've been ignoring you too much," he muses, his voice soft and loving as his thumbs work in small circles. "You're much too tense for my taste."
I am too stupid to respond with English. I will tell him later about the day I've had at work, running around for fifteen different customers and a boss I can hardly stand. But for now a low moan will do, my mind too blurry from substance use and the stimulation that makes me dizzy with want.
"Does that feel good?" Billy asks, pressing a small kiss against my shin. I moan again, eyes fluttering shut. "Wanna make sure my baby sleeps well tonight."
Oh, I'll sleep phenomenally.
His hands abandon me, searching for the bottle of lavender scented oil, coating his hands before reaching for the back of my thighs, right below the curve of my ass.
"How's the show?" He asks me, digging deeply into my tissue in a way that makes me moan, arching my back subconsciously as the stimulation takes over my thoughts. "That good?" He asks, voice deep as he chuckles.
"Very good," I confirm, my voice soft against the freshly washed bedsheets. I have never said a bad thing about this man. I would never curse the provider of relaxation. Any claims otherwise are false and slandering against me and my man.
"You're grinding against the bed, you realize that, right?" Billy asks bemused, his thumbs drawing deep circles against the inside of my thighs, making me gasp in want. "There something else you want?"
Whatever strain he has given me has made me nonverbal, but the squeak I let out is answer enough. For me, anyways.
"I need words, baby. Words. Vague noises are not consent," he says softly.
"Motherfucker that noise was not vague," I snap, lifting my head up briefly before resuming my mindless appreciation against the bed. Billy's laugh echoes throughout the room, his hand lightly smacking my ass before reaching for the small towel and bottle of lube on the nightstand, wiping off his hands before squeezing a generous dollop onto two digits.
His fingers press against my entrance slowly, coating it with the thick, cold lube, making me squirm and gasp against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
"I'm gonna start off slow, okay baby?" He says gently, still stroking my entrance as he positions himself above me. "You let me know if you want me to change something."
I moan in understanding, but it's not enough for him. His voice is low and rumbling by my ear, his lips teasing at my shoulder.
"Say yes if you understand," he says softly, breath hot against my ear.
"Yes," I say just as soft.
"Good," he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "Good baby."
His cock slowly sinks inside of me, the pot from earlier making the sensations deeper and more vibrant as I feel the sweet stretch even at the top of my head. Billy moves slow, taking his time to enter me as though we had all the time in the world. I can't help but pant against the bed, whining for more intelligibly as Billy sheethes himself to the hilt, pressing himself against my g-spot just perfectly at this angle, no real effort needed when I'm like this. My eyes roll at the touch, my hips bucking in uneven, stupid rhythms against him as he remains still inside of me. Fuck it, he could snore in my ear right now and I'd let him.
Billy's voice is breathy, moaning as he brushes my hair with his hand. "Let me know when you want me to move," he moans in my ear.
"I am," I whine. "Fuck me."
He chuckles against me, his voice rough as he continues in a slow, even rhythm. "You don't want to go slow first?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my spine as he slowly slides against my spot again, his cock making me clench tightly around him.
"Uh uh," I moan, still trying to buck rapidly against him. "Want more."
"You usually get so overstimulated if I start fast at this angle," he teases, ignoring the pace of my hips in favor of his. "Can't even finish fucking you if I start out fast, you're so sensitive by the end."
That's a lie. Terrible lie. Slander.
"Do you really want me to go fast?" He asks softly, one hand finding my hip to guide me to a better rhythm.
"Motherfucker, yes," I whine, lifting my head. He chuckles, much to my annoyance. "Fuck me like you own me."
At that he grabs my hips, slamming me against his base before he begins to violently abuse my hole, fucking directly into my g-spot and never missing once as he fucks me hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall, making a painting rattle on the wall behind us.
"Jesus- fuck- wait!" I cry, my hips subconsciously trying to escape his abuse while I clench around him, silently begging for more.
He slows his pace once more, pressing such soft, sweet kisses to my spine as he speaks. "See? You can't handle it like that. You're half fucked out already and that wasn't even five seconds."
He's absolutely right and I should listen to him more. How wise is my man.
"If I was really fucking you like I owned you," he says lowly between slow, long thrusts, his hands guiding my hips gently as I whimper with each move like the bitch I am. "I'd pick the pace. But here you are, telling me what to do and changing your mind the moment I give it to you. So indecisive is my baby." Very indecisive. Go fast again. "And I'll do whatever you want like a good man should."
I will stay home with the kids. I will scrub my permanently stained linoleum floor until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building. I will spend my days barefoot and pregnant if he so requests of me. In Jesus's name, Amen.
Billy moves slow and purposefully against me, grinding his cock and moaning in my ear while he watches me, smacking my ass here and there when he wants to watch it bounce against his hips.
"So pretty," he moans. "Even prettier when you cum. Is there something I can do to help?"
I whine against the bed, feeling edged and whoreish with his thick dick pulsing inside of me, fucking me into blind submission and making me willing to do anything he says.
"Would someone like for me to go faster?" He coos sweetly, slightly speeding up his tempo as he slams more gently into my spot. "Does my baby wanna get fucked?"
I nod stupidly, whining and huffing as he slowly continues to gain speed.
"You gonna cum around me? Take my cock real nice and fast?" He asks, smacking my ass once more. I clench upon impact, making him do it again and again until he laughs.
"Cum in me," I moan. All care has been thrown out the window, my head scrambled and vision blind.
"Yeah? You want that?" He teases. His balls smack loudly against my front, offering additional stimulation and making my eyes roll. "Looks like you're drooling over it." Motherfucker I am, and?
"I'm gonna fuck you so good you sleep for days, sweetheart," he moans in my ear, slamming into me hard enough to make me squeal. "Kept dreaming about you for the past week. Kept getting all nice and hard only to have you wake me up before I could fuck you. Come to find out I was keeping my poor baby up, being my own cockblock."
His cock pistons in and out of me at impressive speed, one of his hands slamming against the bars of the metal headboard to offer him stability while he fucks me, the bed ramming against the wall so loudly it's all I can hear besides him. I think the painting fell.
"Now we can both sleep better at night. My balls empty, your ass nice and full. Think I'll do it again tomorrow," he muses, slamming me against the bed, pushing me higher. "And again." And higher. "And again." Until the top of my head pounds against the ceiling. "Till the fucken cows come home."
Moo, bitch. Moo.
With a pathetic scream, hardly able to make any noise due to the violent climax, I cry his name as I clench around him. His dick pounds my head into the wall absuively as he chants my name like it's the only word ever known to him, his voice raising in volume until he's shouting it so clear it raises above the rocking of the bed, loud enough surely for the neighbors to hear. I'm hardly even aware of when he cums, or really anything at this point, his dick pulsing within me and fucking his admittedly larger than usual load into me so deep you'd think there'd be no chance of it to escape. I'm only aware he came when his cock finally softens, our cum dripping and pooling underneath of me in a mixed puddle when he slips out with a small whimper, his breath so heavy and wheezing I'm almost scared he'll pass out on top of me.
"Wanna go again?" He jokes, his voice worryingly pathetic as he tries to laugh, sounding more like a death rattle than anything. All I respond with is a shaky thumbs down, my head spinning from the possible concussion I may genuinely have.
It's an effective sleep method. Works wonders for both of us.
▪︎》◇《▪︎
After he slips out of the house one winter morning with my gun tucked in the back of his jeans, I can't tell you how much I'd give to hear him snore against our lavender scented bed one last time, feeling his arms that are now ash and bones on the floor of a gas station just outside of town. My only company now being his ghost echoing his bright laughter down the darkened halls of what was once our home.
You like my ending bbgirl? Special just for youuu.
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@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3
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sexual tension with ghost that leads to sex (but he’s kinda toxic) part two
“bro, did you hear something last night?” soap asks to konig, but the whole breakfast table look at him with curious eyes. “something?” konig raises an eyebrow, and you think you’re starting to sweat. “yeah, like… sex. i swear to god i heard moans all night, and i’m pretty sure i wasn’t dreaming.” holy shit, you almost choke on your pineapple juice. you stay silent, though, not wanting to say a word because you’re a bad liar and it would look suspicious.
“it must’ve been ghost and a girl, he’s a whore, we all know that.” konig chuckles, making soap agree with a laugh. my god, this is so nice; waking up to people saying that the man you casually had sex with, fucked half of the world. “did you hear it too, y/n?” soap looks at you innocently. he probably just wants to make sure you’re not being left out. “uh, not really. i think i was too tired to hear anything.” you smile half heartedly, soap raises an eyebrow.
“you literally share a fucking wall with him, your room is glued to his. shit, you really was tired, huh?” he laughs and you agree, chuckling. you stop smiling when you notice that everybody’s posture has changed. and then, you feel his presence behind you. “good morning, idiots.” ghost suddenly breaks the silence. “i need to talk to you for a second. about something. in my room.” he continues and you pray to god that he’s talking to someone else, so you stay still, staring at the window in front of you. however, no one says a word, and they’re all looking at you, waiting for some kind of reaction.
“w-what?” you chuckle anxiously, turning your body to face him. “i mean, of course.” you swallow hard, forcing a smile. at this point, they probably know that you were the bitch moaning all night. “after you.” he gestures with his hand and you nod, now walking to his room. truth is, he’s not a gentleman, he just loves your ass so much that he can’t help but admire the sight of it in these tight pants of yours. “go ahead.” he encourages you when you stop in front of his door. you nod again, entering his room.
ghost locks the door and suddenly you’re even more anxious. “please, don’t ever say that again in public.” you sigh, sitting on his comfortable chair. “i’ll say whatever i want whenever i want.” he lights up a cigarette and you roll your eyes. ghost sits on the edge of his bed, manspreading like the insufferable man he is, while he smokes his cigarette peacefully. you stare at him and you’ve just realized that he has his mask and balaclava off. fuck you, you’ll never get used to his pretty face.
“what do you want?” you ask, crossing your legs for some reason. he’s undressing you with his eyes and it makes you cheeks flush. “isn’t it obvious?” he has a very serious tone in his voice, but you know him, he’s just fucking around with you. he loves to make you feel dumb. “my body?” you joke, chuckling. “that’s funny.” he answers with no emotion at all, although he’s smirking.
“i need you…” ghost starts, but he looks very unsure about it. you frown, waiting for him to continue his sentence, but he never does. “you need me…?” you encourage him. “i need you to be in charge for a while.” he finally says, but at this point you don’t even know if he’s talking about sex or other stuff. “what do you mean?” you’re very confused as he puts the cigarette away. he’s chuckling because he knows that you’re so fucking dirty minded.
“i need you to be in charge of things here while i’m away. i’ll be gone for five days or something.” ghost explains and your heart drops for a moment. maybe because he’s the only one here that feels like home to you. a wrecked one, but still. “why me, though?” you swallow hard, not liking the idea. “because i said so.” he simply says.
“so… when you’re leaving?” you stand up, he does the same. you stare at each other for a moment. “in a few minutes.” oh. okay. you try to hide your disappointment as you smile half heartedly. “good. okay, then. i’ll try to take care of everything.” you’re terrified but he nods. “thanks.” he says, nonchalant. you know ghost hates to be vulnerable, but this time, you actually feel some kind of sincerity behind his words.
he’s looking at you as if he’s meaning to tell you something that he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to. so you wait for him, you wait for his time. as if the universe is against you, ghost comes closer to you. you hold your breath as he takes a deep one. he places a kiss on your shoulder, making you already lose your senses. “my bed will miss us.” he says in a low tone, almost a soft one, but you know better. he could miss the sex, but not you as a person. his smirk makes you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
“the team sure won’t.” you both chuckle. ghost starts kissing your neck and you’re not you anymore. “why’d you say it like that?” you can feel his smile against your skin. “because they heard us.” you answer as if it was obvious, making him stop kissing your neck to look at you. “us?” he raises an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. fucking asshole. “i told you to stop being so fucking loud, you just didn’t care. now face the consequences.” before you could answer, ghost grabs your neck and you immediately give up.
it feels like a breath of fresh air when he kisses you. it’s like you waited your whole life to feel his lips crash against yours again. the way he does it so impatiently but so slowly will always catch you off guard. his eager tongue exploring your mouth makes your heart miss a beat. your bottom lip between his teeth is something that you could get used to, just like the sounds that escape his mouth every now and then when he’s on the verge to fuck you.
“y/n…” he’s out of breath against your lips, forehead pressed against yours. “bend over.” you widen your eyes. his voice is pure lust, his hands wandering all over your body. you’re in front of the desk already, his torso pressing against your back. you can’t deny him, even under the risk of being heard again. so you nod as he unbuckles his belt while kissing your spine.
(…)
seven days later, ghost came back. at first, you were curious about his delay, but then you remembered that you were nothing but a casual fuck to him. therefore, you didn’t really have the right to ask him about his personal life, such as his job. you’re pulled out of your thoughts when you finally hear his voice echoing through the corridor, making you frown in your bed, since it’s four in the morning and you were trying to get some sleep.
“for fuck’s sake, johnny. i’ll take the bullet off myself, go to sleep.” you hear him complaining and you’re preoccupied. well, you hate the fact that you’re your lieutenant’s neighbor. when soap walks away, you open the door, catching ghost off guard. he’s shirtless but his arm is bleeding, so you try to ignore his big and toned torso. you swallow hard when you see the blood dripping down on the ground.
“what the hell, ghost.” you mumble in a certain despair, opening his door as a way to try to help him. he’s looking at you like he missed your face, but he rather die than do vulnerable stuff that implies commitment, so he physically can’t handle your company right now. “i’ll take it from here.” ghost says, pushing you away from his door gently. “let me help you.” you say, touching his shoulder.
“i’ll talk to you later, okay? please.” he sounds in a rush, almost as if he’s afraid of you, as if he has to run away from you as soon as possible, making you nod defeatedly. ghost was going to kiss your forehead but then he remembered that you’re nothing but his casual fuck, so he settled for a kiss on your cheek before closing the door at your face.
(…)
he didn’t talk to you later that day, nor the next one. but he would obviously knock at your door at three in the morning when he can’t cum with his hand and need you to do the job. you almost throw up when you realize that this is so lieutenant ghost. “fuck off!” your scream echoes through the door, making him shush you immediately. you roll your eyes as you stop getting ready to sleep to open the goddamn door. unfortunately for you, ghost is wearing those stupid grey sweatpants and a white tight tee.
“are you trying to wake the whole base up?” he’s visibly mad but you don’t give a fuck. “yeah, got any problems with that?” you mock, holding the fuck out of the door, just in case he decides to come in without your permission. “my only problem right now is your behavior. what’s up with that?” ghost sighs impatiently as he grabs your arm and pushes the both of you inside. slick son of a bitch.
“and why the fuck are you half naked? it’s freezing cold.” he notices that you’re wearing nothing but your pink lingerie. it makes him hard, really. “because i just got out of the shower. i was getting ready to bed when you decided to piss me off.” you sigh, staring at him with crossed arms. ghost stares back at you, placing a hand on his heart for a few seconds just because. “uh huh, so…” oh my god, he literally couldn’t care less. he starts walking slowly towards you, hands on his waist.
ghost licks his lips, taking a deep breath. “i’m sorry about that night, i should’ve been more grateful. you took care of everything while i was gone, thank you.” his breathing is erratic, he must really hate apologizing. you like it, though — the way he’s struggling. his ego is huge, even for a big man like him. “it’s fine, ghost.” you answer in a tired tone. “thanks for being intentional this time.” you smile half heartedly as he nods. ghost swallows hard. being so close to you while you look this good should be a crime, specially when you’re not willing to give in.
“how’s your arm, by the way?” you break the silence, placing your hand on his massive arm gently. “feels like a brand new one.” he lies, grabbing your hand away from it, but he doesn’t let go of your touch. “it seems that it still hurts and it’s not healed yet.” you point out, raising an eyebrow at him. he literally has a bandage around his biceps. “does it matter?” ghost chuckles, just enjoying the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his. “it matters to me.” you simply say, looking into his lost eyes. “it shouldn’t.” before you could answer, he kisses you unexpectedly. it’s not desperate, it’s slow and sensual.
you know this is your lieutenant’s way of running away from feelings. because to him, feelings are temporary. “i’ve missed your body so much.” he mumbles against your lips as you try to ignore the word body. “i’d fuck my fist every night, thinking it was your mouth instead.” ghost announces and for some reason you don’t get mad, you get wet. “did you touch yourself in this pink set while i was gone?” he breathes next to your ear and you shiver when you feel his tongue on your neck, alongside with the cold wall hitting your back.
“careful with that answer, say yes and i’ll break you off.” he emphasizes, you can feel his smirk against your skin. he licks and sucks and you don’t have any choice but to close your eyes in pleasure. “no, never.” you lie in a low whimper. embarassing. “fucking liar.” ghost chuckles dryly, making you wetter than before. “i bet your fingers can’t even hit your spot, not after i’ve been inside you.” he leaves your neck to look into your eyes. “y-you’re right.” you say, already breathless.
“yeah?” he sounds so mean as he pulls you impossibly closer to his body so he can kiss you painfully slow again. “the thought of us fucking so good for the first time must’ve been useful for you.” ghost takes your bra off and you take his shirt off very carefully to not hurt his arm. “what was that about?” he laughs, mocking at your concern. “i’m worried, okay? leave me alone.” you roll your eyes as he holds back another laugh.
“should i fuck you against the wall to show how strong my arms are?” he jokes in a very serious way. “you can fuck me wherever, as long as you make me feel good.” you joke back, placing your hands on his chest. “so self centered.” he starts kissing your collarbone until his lips meet your nipples. you moan lowly with his ministrations. “let me suck you off to show how much i care for you as well.” you whisper as you push him away.
“you better not cum while doing it.” he looks at you, grabbing your neck as a reminder. the fact that you came just by sucking him the last time the two of you had sex is insane, you’re still ashamed by that. “it’s just that… you look so good in my mouth.” you admit it out loud and ghost loses it. “you’re so honest when you’re horny, baby. i’ll get you a sore throat as a reward, how’s that sound?” you hate that you don’t hate his sense of humour at all.
you kneel. he spreads his pre cum on your soft lips. you open your mouth. he grabs your jaw and you stick your tongue out. he spits in it and tell you to fucking swallow because your throat must be so dry due to how excited you are to suck him off. after that, you just do things automatically. you’re so in your head, picturing him and the challenge of making him feel good, that you don’t really care about anything else. it’s like your mind goes blank of how much you’re his to use. and you’re okay with that.
you’re so okay that you choke on his cock just because, you let his hand guide your head just because, you let him hit the back of your throat multiple times again just because. you keep going because he said so and you know he’s so fucking close due to how rough he’s being with you. how out of breath he sounds. how his groans break into low moans. how he’s throbbing so deliciously. “i’m gonna cum and you’re not gonna swallow.” you almost cry at his announcement, since you swallowed it before and it’s surprisingly sweet. his healthy diet and his addiction to fruits is no joke.
so you swallow it anyway. ghost smirks then slaps your face. at this point, you’re so turned on that you liked the sting. “greedy fucking slut.” you stand up, finally. he kisses you passionately. his taste on your tongue isn’t bad, but he prefers yours. it’s a shame he can’t eat you out this time or else he’ll cum just by doing it. “take your panties off, ‘gonna fuck you now.” you nod, lost in his demanding panting voice. “here, though? your arm…” you protest, now fully naked.
“my arm is fine.” he sounds done with you. “you’re giving yourself too much credit, have you ever looked in the mirror? you’re tiny.” he mocks your body proportions while holding back a smile. well, he’s right. you’re very small compared to him, but aren’t everyone? he’s big. in all ways.
“that’s on you, you’re huge.” you smirk as you look down on him. you finally give in, too needy to wait any longer, it feels like you’ve been edged in this room for hours. “and you take it everytime.” ghost breathes with a proud smile, more proud of himself than of you. his tip teases your entrance and you swallow hard, excitement consuming you. “breathe, angel. does my cock make you this eager? i knew you wouldn’t want anyone else after you had me.” he slides in just a little and you hold back a moan.
“why are you still talking?” you breathe, inches away from his lips. his eyes never leave yours and you’re fighting the urge to cry from how much you want him. “i like to see you on the edge.” ghost finally grabs your thighs so you can wrap them around his waist. “maybe if you beg a little more, i can give it to you.” he kisses your temple, enjoying the way you’re struggling to stay still. “jesus fucking christ, just f…” his unexpected hard thrust cuts you off, making you moan out loud. ghost laughs, kissing your neck.
he gives your nipples attention and it only drives you closer to your orgasm. “mmm, i don’t even have to try, i can just slide in.” you hate his mocking tone, so you tell him to go harder because you’re not even feeling it. “that’s crazy, i can literally feel your cervix.” he chuckles and it makes you mad that his out of breath laugh is such a turn on for you. truth is, you can feel him in your cervix too. “you can’t make me mad with your bullshit, baby. not when i can feel you dripping down on me like this. you never fail to amaze me, fuck.” he groans as he goes faster.
you’re so lost in the feeling of his cock hitting all of your right spots that you can’t even say a word to him. you’re just a sweaty moaning mess at this point. ghost feels your warm walls clench around him as you grab his biceps in a tight grip, not even realizing that your fingers are hurting his unhealead wound. he whimpers lowly, more in pain than in pleasure. but you’re so close that you don’t even realize it, so your orgasm hits you like a giant wave.
“i-i’m sorry.” you don’t really know what you’re apologizing for, but it doesn’t matter, because he keeps fucking you to chase his own high and your mind goes blank. “w-wait! fuck, slow down.” you cry out, too overstimulated to keep going. “you can do it, make me proud.” he mumbles out of breath, talking you through it, but his grip on the back of your thighs isn’t firm anymore and you’re starting to suspect that ghost’s sore arm is aching due to the effort he wasn’t supposed to be doing yet.
“do you want another one? i’ll give it to you.” ghost kisses you messily, not quite thinking straight. “i-i can’t, i can’t.” you say almost in a desperate tone. “but you will.” he whispers against your lips, now leaving you empty to walk to your bed. he lays you down and you widen your eyes when you see his previously white bandage covered in blood. “you’re bleeding.” you sound concerned as you touch him carefully, but ghost is almost exploding due to how bad he wants to fucking cum, so he couldn’t care less about his arm.
“no shit.” he mocks, tilting his head. ghost sighs, you look so beautiful like this, under him, cheeks flushed, too fucked out. he kisses you gently. “get on all fours before i lose my fucking mind.” you do as you’re told until you’re cumming again for the third time this night. your legs are giving up, but the hands that pull your hair in a ponytail and rub your clit while taking you from behind would never let you fall. “c’mon, sweetheart, fuck me back.” he sounds defeated, but you know he’s close. ghost is being so rough now that your eyes are filled with tears. his groans keep you going, though.
you moan a little too loud when he hits your secret spot for the thousandth time. he grabs your neck, lips ghosting around your ear. “shhh…” ghost places a kiss on your shoulder and you mumble a strangled “sorry.” he throbs inside you and for a moment of consciousness you’re afraid of getting pregnant. you both know that you got an IUD, but still. the two of you have been fucking around too much to not be scared of accidentally having a baby.
as if he’s reading your mind… he pulls out. you feel his warm ropes running down your back as you feel another orgasm consuming your whole body. as you both settle down, you lay back in your bed, too tired to care about his cum on your skin. he does the same, laying beside you. “goddamn, you fucked me up.” he breaks the silence, his breathing becoming more normal now, even though his arm’s still aching.
“oh, shouldn’t i be the one saying that?” you both chuckle, staring at the roof. “you fucked me so good that i almost said i love you, though.” you add, joking, but not really. ghost immediately looks at you, as if you said a prohibited word. he holds back a smirk. “you think you’re funny, huh?” you look at him with a smile that makes him weak, and he hates it.
ghost’s hand is on your waist as he sighs tiredly. “i should go, my arm’s about to fall out. thanks, y/n.” he mocks, slapping your ass. he gives you a quick kiss that lasts long enough to make you head over heels for him before getting out of your bed. “i thought you were my big and strong lieutenant, what happened?” you mock back, making him shake his head with a smile.
“you happened.” ghost answers as if it was obvious. he’s putting his clothes back on and you just admire the heavenly sight. he takes a deep breath, opening the door. the man is clearly falling apart and you almost feel bad for him. he looks at you. “night, dumbass.” ghost winks playfully, leaving you alone.
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Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Ango Sakaguchi
It’s done!! I hope you enjoy:)
Contains: S5 EP11 SPOILERS, afab reader, no pronouns, desk sex, semi-public, quickie, switching kinda, readers outfit is ‘feminine’, overstim, pussy-drunk Ango, his tie is used as a gag, there’s an attempt at aftercare, they’re being rushed though so there isn’t much time for it
“When is your next meeting?”
“In thirty-five minutes.”
You and Ango were currently having a dilemma. Ango has been so deprived of you lately. Now that Fyodor is officially gone, and there’s been so much whiplash that he feels like he’s wasting time if he does as much as blink you two haven’t been able to spend much time together aside from a couple of hours when you two get home. Ango was honestly taking this worse than you. His main motivator for a long time is that once this all passes, he and you could spend as much time together as you wanted, but he didn’t expect to still be working even after Fyodor was gone. A small miscalculation that was causing pure burnout.
That was until he finally saw a window of opportunity. He had just finished a meeting with some lower ranked colleague, and he had the biggest window between meetings he’s had yet. thirty-five minutes. He took this opportunity to call you to his office, and he was practically all over you the second you walked through the door. As soon as you walked inside he wrapped his hands around your waist, pushing you against the door as he kissed you deeply, locking the door from behind you. He quickly pulled away to let you speak.
“Woah, Ango! You’re awfully touchy.” You teased him and grabbed a stray piece of his hair and put it back into place, gently scratching his scalp.
Ango shrugged, “I’ve got thirty-five minutes until my next meeting. Could we please do something until then?”
“Like what?”
“You know, don’t make me spell it out for you.”
You gasped dramatically and poked his forehead, “Ango! How dirty. Wasn’t it always you who told me to save that stuff for the bedroom?”
Ango shook his head.
“Not this time. Please.”
“Please what?”
Ango sighed, and whispered into your ear.
“Please, let me fuck you.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Ango was about to open his mouth, but you placed a finger over it. “And normally I’d be all for it, but you have a meeting so soon. I don’t wanna risk anyone walking in.”
Ango whined, “please, please—”
“We can still do something but it’s gotta be small. What do you wanna do?”
Ango nodded at your compromise and brought you to his desk wordlessly. God, he wants to do everything to you right now, but he knows that’s unethical. He can’t go all the way right now. He can’t touch you in whatever way he wants, and he knows it. So if he had to settle for something, he’d settle for eating you out. He’s been so stressed lately, not much could compare to your slick dripping off of his tongue and onto his desk. Knowing how addicting you were, it could probably get him through the rest of the day.
Ango tapped his desk, signaling for you to sit on it. You did as you were asked and gasped a little when he wordlessly gripped your skirt and pulled it down, your pantyhose and underwear going with it. He sat down in his chair and leaned his face down to rest between your parted thighs.
“Ango?”
Ango was almost in a trance, your voice bringing him back to reality.
“Hm?”
“Are you doing what I think you are?”
“Probably.”
You giggled, “alright, if you can get me to cum before your next meeting, I’ll treat you extra good when we get home.”
That was a joke and Ango knew it. He may have not had much experience before you, but he’s been with you enough to know he can make you cum four to five times in the time frame he had, maybe even six if he really pushed it. Although he wouldn’t go that far. At least not in public.
Nonetheless, Ango nodded, not wanting to waste a single moment. He dove himself between your thighs and kissed them gently, rubbing along your labia. He moved along, inching closer and closer to your heat that was practically dripping from his tender touch. You whined and bucked your hips into his face, making Ango smile.
He took off your shoes, undoing the buckle that kept it on your foot. The mary janes you were wearing were clunky and he knew they’d be a little heavy considering your position. You smiled at his gentle care, and whimpered a little bit when he blew cold air against you.
You really were so good for him. You two were perfect together.
Ango continued his actions, rubbing your clit gently with his hand and kissing your thighs, leaving marks that ranged anywhere from light red ones that would fade immediately to deep purple bruises that would last days. This was satisfying, but Ango grew curious, and bit into your thigh, it obviously wasn’t enough to bruise; but it stung a little, it made you whimper and throw you head back, hitting the large desk.
“A..Ango,”
Ango smiled into your thighs, and he finally kissed your clit once, before licking along your folds, collecting the slick that had formed. Your taste was so addicting he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft moan, sending vibrations through your body. Once Ango had collected the majority of your precum, he licked directly on your clit and laid his tongue flat across it, and you winced again, covering your mouth to prevent any noises from coming out. As he applied pressure to your aching clit, he rubbed circles along where he bit, soothing the muffled sting.
Ango quickly looked at his watch.
thirty minutes left.
What you assumed to be because of the little time left, he finally applied continuous pressure to your clit with the tip of his tongue, and he pulled his hand up to finger you gently. It was soft, and despite the current situation, it felt remarkably intimate. You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his hair, not wanting to ruin it, and instead gripped the desk. He moved his fingers in a scissoring motion inside of you, and you cried out into your hand. Ango continued with his pace, moving his tongue to completely cover your clit. He continued to lick at your clit, enjoying the muffled whines that left your mouth, along with the occasional moan.
Ango sped up his pace, fingering you with more vigor than before, his sped up actions made you buck your hips into his face and grip the desk so hard your knuckles were turning white. As he went at it, he decided to wrap his lips around your clit, and sucked on it gently. He added another finger, and the three fingers stretched you out even more than before, and you resisted the urge to wrap your thighs around his head, wanting to avoid ruining his slick-back hair.
Ango noticed that you were holding yourself back and grabbed your hands. He couldn’t risk having his hair disheveled, or anything for that matter, but he still wanted you to grab him in some way, so he started holding your hands as you tightened around nothing. It was sweet how he was trying to keep things intimate, even in public.
As much as you tried to keep silent, Ango’s name left your lips repeatedly, almost like some prayer. Ango momentarily lifted himself from you and placed his pointer finger over his lips, and you nodded at his implication, shutting your lips tight. You tightened your hands around his to make up for the lack of noise you could let out, and he simply smiled.
You felt a familiar warmth growing in your stomach, and you warned Ango.
“Ango, I’m close—” you whispered, still trying to stop anyone from overhearing the two of you. Ango nodded into your pussy and began prodding his tongue at your entrance, licking along where he could reach. He didn’t want to grip your thighs to pull you closer to him, as he was holding your hands, so he simply shoved his face as deep as he could go, entering your drenched hole. You arched your back further off the desk as you came with a low whimper, his hands taking most of the impact of your orgasm, as you were currently unable to let out noises. Your nails dug into his hands and turned where you were pressing a shade of red.
“G-good job, Ango,” you lifted yourself up on your arms, trying to calm down your shaky thighs by holding onto them. “You did good, I’ll reward you at home—!” You were cut off by Ango wrapping his lips around your clit, and sucking on it. The wet sounds that were coming out of your pussy as he kept going at it were absolutely sinful, but Ango loved it. You almost let out a moan at the shock, but you covered your mouth in time.
“Ango!” You whispered in the loudest tone you could without being heard, but he kept sucking on your clit with no shame, before Ango finally lifted himself up.
“I said we have thirty-five minutes. We still have..” Ango checked his watch. “Twenty minutes left.”
“But, Ango!” You tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t having any of it. He looked you in the eyes, awaiting your answer. “If you really want me to stop, I will.” You shook your head.
“Just be quick..”
He nodded and wordlessly bent down and kissed your clit before going back to work. He kept sucking on your clit, grabbing your thighs this time. He struggled to reach as far as he wanted before, but now he wasn’t going to allow that. He gripped your thighs as tightly as he could, pulling your dripping cunt impossibly closer to his face. You didn’t want to, but the sudden actions had you letting out loud moans and cries for a moment, before Ango sighed to himself.
“You’re simply too loud.” Ango said to you, pulling his tie down. “We can’t have that. At least not here.”
Ango pulled his tie off all the way, tying it around your mouth.
“Sorry, dear. Unless you can promise to be quiet.”
You shook your head. You knew you couldn’t stay quiet, especially not like this. Ango smiled at you and kissed your forehead.
“At least you’re honest..” he chuckled, his arms on either side of your head as he smiled down at you.
Ango brought himself back down, and without hesitation, gripped your thighs again and pulled you closer to him. He slipped his tongue as deep as it could go, successfully deeper now that he could pull you towards him by your hips. You winced, muffled through his black tie. Your taste was driving Ango mad, the small moans he was letting out proving it. They were quiet enough for no one else to be able to hear it, but you could certainly feel the vibrations shaking every fiber of your being. The muffled noises you released were strangely enough making Ango strain against his pants more than before. Something about the desperacy was extra appealing to him.
Your thighs were mere inches away from his head. You were trying your absolute hardest to not wrap your thighs around his head, as it would dishevel his hair. Your thighs tensed and tightened around nothing, trying to keep them in place was a struggle, but it was doable. At least you could grip something with your hands, even if it unfortunately wasn’t Ango’s hair.
Ango’s harsh treatment on your clit made your stomach curl up into another orgasm, you were teetering over the edge, before Ango moved his mouth back down to suck on your clit, serving as the final straw. You came all over Ango’s face again, and he licked his lips clean, diving back in to clean up what was left behind. The continuation of his previous overstimulation made you come much easier and faster after that, as Ango managed to get a few more orgasms out of you by the time his meeting was roughly five minutes away. How many times has he managed to get you to come? It couldn't be any more than five, right? Doubt filled your mind, but considering how well Ango did, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had beaten his record or something. If he had, you’d need to make sure to reward him extra well when you two got home. There was a wet stain on the desk right where your heat was, and Ango ran his fingers over your folds quickly, making you jerk your hips up one more time.
“Isn’t your meeting soon? You should..stop..that… you’ll be late.”
Ango shrugged, “I suppose so.”
Despite his words, Ango laid his arms on either side of your face and leaned down to kiss you, not caring about the slick that got on his suit.
“Ango..your suit.”
“Ah,” Ango looked down to his crotch, “it’s fine. My suits black anyways.”
Considering everything, Ango was remarkably clean. His hair was largely unchanged, outside of some strands of hair falling forward on his face instead of being slick back like usual. Besides the wet spot on his pants, his suit was fairly clean. The only missing component was his tie, so he kissed you one last time before getting up to get a tie out of his desk. For some reason, he had a habit of keeping an extra tie on him. You always thought it was silly, but it turns out it was actually useful.
Ango quickly put the tie on so he could turn back to you, and he placed himself back on his spot on his desk, checking the time. Two minutes.
“We need to hurry..” Ango grabbed your bottoms that were collected on a spot on the floor and helped you off the desk, holding you in place by the waist as he helped you get them back on. Next were your shoes, and you sat down on the desk again as Ango put your black mary-janes on, helping out with the black buckle on the shoe. He didn’t put your pantyhose on, as there was no time, but you still looked decent once you were done.
“Sorry I can’t really do much aftercare. I’ll spoil you some more when we get home to make up for it.” Ango sat up as he said it and helped you stand up, your legs were shaky and buckled as you tried to stand and walk out, but you managed.
“It’s fine, Ango,” you smiled back at him as you leaned on the doorframe. You quickly pulled out a compact mirror to fix up your hair, and you felt like you could show your face in public now. You were still a little sweaty and sluggish, but it’s nothing a bathroom trip couldn’t fix. You bunched your pantyhose in your hand to hide them, and unlocked Ango’s office door, waving goodbye and giggling at Ango’s attempt at crossing his legs to hide his hard on.
As you walked out, a tall man who was speed-walking down the hallway entered Ango’s office, walking right past you.
Looks like you two wrapped it up just in time.
Wc - 2.5k
I’m really proud of this one:) Sigma is next!
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Steve with reader who has a cold, just generic full on fluff with helping her have a warm bath, nothing spicy just domestic? :) <3 ly always
18+ for general nudity theres NOT smut/ any graphic descriptions, pure fluff! thank you for your request doting steve is the best! ly anon 1k wc
"Oh, gross. What the fuck's happening in here?” Steve asks, bursting through your bedroom door like a maniac.
You flinch awake, a wave of used up tissues falling off of your chest. "Steve?" you ask, though your nose is so plugged up that it comes out like, "Steeb?"
"I think my nose just started running, it's like the air is eighty percent vapor rub."
You pull your bed sheets over your face to hide from your boyfriend for about five seconds before the air gets too hot and you have to pull it down to just under your lips.
His eyes soften when he gets a good look at you. "Shit, you don't look good."
He strides straight to your window and throws it open and then to your side, tugging the sweat-damp sheets off of your tired body.
"I told you I was sick."
He sits by your knees, hands landing familiarly over your struggling chest. He spreads his hand, feels the clammy material with a frown. The smoothing of his hand over your skin is nice.
"You said sick, not dying."
"You're so dramatic," you complain weakly, your voice thick.
He pats your chest once. "Alright bub, up we come," he says, arms slipping under your back.
You moan as he pulls you up and in, his chin pushing over the dip of your shoulder in a hug. He rubs your back. You wish you could breathe through your nose if only to smell his scents, his bergamot and cedarwood, his hairspray and his skin.
"Steve, I'll make you sick."
"Sacrifices."
You're sweaty and too-hot, you smell sick and you look worse and Steve absolutely doesn't care, his skin on yours unflinching.
"I think," Steve says under his breath, pulling back to look down at your feeble hunch, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead, "that you need a bath."
"I'm too tired."
"I'll help you out, yeah? I'm, like, your personal hot male nurse."
You wrinkle your nose at him and the skin around your nostrils feels tight and dry. You wince, wanting to fall into his arms and never get back up again. Steve has other ideas, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you into the bathroom. He shuts the toilet lid and sits you down gently.
"I don't want to be naked right now, I'm disgusting," you complain though you don’t really mind, content for him to do as he pleases. You're just happy he’s here.
"You've never been disgusting a day in your life. Icky, maybe. Slimy. Pretty underneath all the dirt, though, babe," Steve says as he turns on the faucet.
He sticks his hand under the stream until he's happy with the temperature and then pulls out a clean towel, tucking it over the towel rack and turning to you, smiling his pretty smile that always manages to calm you down.
You look up at him, breathing through your mouth, head heavy as a bowling ball. He rubs your shoulders lightly.
"Stevie…"
"I know. You're alright. Look, let's get this off you," he says, hands at the hem of your shirt. He helps you undress and encourages you to hang onto his waist as you step out of your pants, his hands waiting to catch you as you climb into the bathtub. It's not necessary – you're not dizzy, only aching and weak – but it makes you happy that he cares that much.
You feel better as the water rises, legs crossed and pulled up to your chest in an effort to maintain some dignity though it really couldn't matter less, your boyfriend having seen and loved on almost every part of you by this point. Steve sits on the lip of the tub with his arms crossed, only moving to reach out and rub the top of your back with the heel of his palm when you cough.
"The steam will clear you out, get you breathing easy again in no time," he promises.
You turn to him, bringing your hands from the water. They get the hip of his trousers regretfully wet as you grip the side of the bath and drop your head into his lap.
Steve heaves a sympathetic sigh and hugs you best he can in your positions. You're so tired and being this sick is miserable but his company, his care and his touch are all invaluable. You melt in his arms, quickly close to dozing.
"Don't fall asleep," he croons jokingly, "I haven't given you your sponge bath."
"You little freak," you murmur. He bursts into laughter, his chuckles rocking you and making the water around you ebb and wave. You feel like laughing too for the first time in at least a few days.
"Sorry I couldn't come see you sooner. I mean, I would've made it happen if I'd known you were this sick, I swear," he says.
"It's okay. I know you would've. I've only been this bad since last night."
"You could've called me."
"You worked overtime, I wouldn't do that to you."
"Do what? Let me take care of you? Shocker, loser, I want to do that. I wanna take care of you all the time."
You grumble into his lap and he mimics the sound fondly, rubbing the edge of your hairline, pushing against it.
"You want me to wash your hair, babygirl?" Made warm with affection his words come out quiet, like his lips aren't fully parted.
"Please?" you whisper.
He guides your head from his lap and strokes your face before giving you a good pat on the cheek. "I'm gonna have you clean as a whistle in no time," he says with pride. He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Then I'm changing your gross sheets. You couldn't pay me to cuddle on those bad boys. There's, like, an eighth grade science experiment happening in there."
"Bet I could persuade you," you say, not believing it yourself.
"You definitely could. Dunk your head, I wanna wash your hair before the water gets cold."
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out of everything i love you the most
idol renjun x fem reader
angst/fluff
warnings: cursing, kissing
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“y/n im not going to say it again let’s go” renjun stands at the entrance of your shared apartment with one foot out the door. you two had plans to go on a night trip with the dreamies to busan
“ geez i’m coming just one second” you yell to him from the bathroom,you underestimated how long it would take you to get ready, even though your boyfriend tried to tell you to get ready earlier you refused thinking you had enough time, and now you’re running late,as you rush to apply the rest of your makeup you hear him yelling at you again “ i’m gonna leave without your ass if you’re not out the door in five seconds. five, four, three-”
“ okay im done” you say spraying perfume and running out the door
you both run through the train station frantically trying to find your train as renjun continues to yell at you for making him late and not being able to find the right train,finally as you enter your train you look around to find the boys all sitting together
“ it’s about time, my god i didn’t think you were going to make it” jeno says laughing
“ yeah you can thank her for that” renjun rolls his eyes looking at you, as the train begins to move you both sit down next to each other, you sigh looking out the window
“ give me the tickets for the art gallery i don’t trust you with them” you heard your boyfriend say, you look at him with wide eyes
“ oh my god i forgot them” you panic
“ are you fucking kidding me right now, i told you to get them and put them in your purse” he yells in a hushed tone
“ you were rushing me renjun i forgot”
“ i wouldn’t have rushed you if you had listened to me in the first place, what the hell are we going to do huh, we’re going all this way for the art gallery which is sold out, it’s not like we can re buy tickets”
you look at renjun with anger as he returns the same look back. you get up and move seats sitting by chenle,you look at your boyfriend who’s typing away on his phone
“ god i cant stand him sometimes” you say loud enough for him to hear as you look out the window
“ feelings mutual” he responds back to you
“ i feel like every time we hangout with you two you’re both fighting more times then not” haechan says looking at the two of you
“ dude shut up you’re not helping” mark smacks his arm,the rest of the ride was silent ,finally getting off of the train the group heads to the the gallery
“ i’m sorry babe i didn’t mean to cause this” you apologize attempting to hold his hand
“ get off of me” he pulls his hand out of yours walking faster leaving you behind, you take a deep breath trying not to cry as you tried to keep up with him
when you arrive to the art gallery you look at renjun not knowing what to do since you left your tickets at home
“you guys go ahead, we’ll find something else to do” renjun suggests
the boys try to come up with ideas to get you both into the gallery, jisung and jeno even offered their tickets but renjun refused
“ renjun walk slower please my legs are short” you yell to him, running to try and keep up
“what do you want to do, since you got us into this mess… ” he stops sitting at a bench looking to you
“ i don’t know”
“ if you’re going to keep moping around im leaving you here and going on my own”
“ fine id rather be alone then be with you right now” you say under your breath
“ god you’re such a brat”
you search on your phone for things to do around you
“ there’s a cable car we can go on and then maybe walk through the markets” renjun nods without looking at you as he gets a taxi
the ride there was quite, you had tried to get renjuns attention multiple times but it was clear that he was ignoring you
walking up to the ticket booth you try and beat renjun there so that you can buy the tickets. renjun steps in front of you cutting your place in line
“ babe i’m gonna buy them since you wasted your money on the tickets i forgot” you explain
“ no you’re not go sit down and wait for me” without wanting to argue anymore than you already are you follow his instructions and sit down on the bench waiting for him,at this point in the night you just want to go home, you’re tired, you’re anxious, and of course upset
renjun waves you down with the tickets in his hands
maybe sitting in a tiny space across from each other hundreds of feet in the air while in a fight wasn’t the best idea, the only sounds are cart moving on the cable and the city below you,you look up to your boyfriend who is sitting with his arms crossed looking out the window,sighing you get up moving to sit next to him wrapping your arms around him in a hug
he doesn’t react
“listen, i understand you’re mad, and you have the right to be, i know you were really looking forward to the art gallery and i feel horrible for leaving the tickets behind, i’m sorry for the way i reacted it was wrong and immature,i love you jun, i don’t want us to fight anymore” he looks over at you once you start sniffling
“ come on don’t cry” he wipes the tears away with his thumbs,taking your head leading it to his chest to hold you
“ it’s not your fault, i shouldn’t have blamed it on you, just because i asked you to grab the tickets dosent mean that i shouldn’t have double checked and make sure we had them before we left and…. i need to work on my temper, you don’t deserve me lashing out at you, i’m really sorry, i love you” he kisses your forehead “ and yeah i was looking forward to the art gallery but mostly i was looking forward to spending time with you” he rubs your back
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sorry this one is so short!! i hoped you enjoyed <3
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a little preview of what’s to come 🫣
“Well,” you hear Derek’s voice call out before you’ve even entered the conference room, “Look at who finally decided to grace us with their presence. Not like you to be late, Y/N.” Your friend grins at you boyishly from his chair. You’re going to miss seeing it every day. Don’t give in, don’t show any resistance. It’s the only thing that will save you now.
You offer as much of a smile as you can. “Guess there’s a first time for everything, Der,” you murmur, trying and failing to sigh away the prick of tears behind your eyes. Your gaze travels to a spot on the far back wall, just between Spencer’s and Emily’s shoulders. You can’t let yourself look them in the eye. If you do that, this will have been for nothing. “I...” You try to swallow the growing lump in your throat, “I want all of you to know that I love you with everything I have left in me, and... that’s what makes this so fucking unfair.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice, tears already seeping through and breaking down the walls you’ve built. “I didn’t want to do this, but I see no other choice.” You unclip your badge and place it and your gun on the table. You then take the manila folder out of the bag hanging heavily on your shoulder and slide it across the table in front of Aaron.
The sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears muffles all other sounds around you, and you fear that you’ll break your hand if you clasp them together any tighter. It’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. Aaron’s voice brings you back, the folder opened and his eyes stormy. “What is this?” The sound of his voice makes you shudder. You’ve known your boss long enough to know that if he raises his voice any louder, all the restraint he has will be out the window.
“My resignation,” you tell him and watch his left eye twitch, “Effective immediately.”
Five bodies stand all at once, spines ramrod straight. Rage, desperation, bewilderment, and a few other emotions that you can’t quite decipher mix into a cocktail of misery on their faces.
“You’re leaving?” Derek demands, his tone harsh. “Just like that, no second thought?”
“I said that I didn’t want to do this, that I had no other choice, and I meant it,” you stress. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life hating myself for what I’m giving up. But... I don’t see any other way out.”
“Can you at least tell us why?” Penelope asks, and you feel the knife in your chest twist. You never wanted it to end like this; hell, you didn’t want it to end at all. You remember the text you got earlier this morning, right before you walked into the building. You’ve made your choices. Now, live with them.
“Somehow, confidential information from one of our cases—one of my files—was leaked,” you lie. “The Brass wants someone to blame. And they’re going to blame me because my name was attached to that file.”
“Do you have any idea who could’ve gotten ahold of that intel?” Emily asks. You shake your head.
You knew exactly who it was.
“Why wasn’t I told about the leak?” Aaron asks, his Hotch voice making an appearance. “That’s something I should’ve known.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you tell him, and you are sorry. Just not for the reason he thinks. “Strauss said that the director wanted it handled quietly. This was the fastest way to do that.”
“So, some asshole is going after one of our own, and we’re just supposed to do what?” Rossi asks, his shoulders tight. “Sit with our thumbs in our asses until he’s brought in?”
“Dave’s right,” Aaron agrees. “Y/N, you’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you. I’m going to talk to Erin.” He takes a step forward, but you place a hand on his chest to block his path.
You feel his heartbeat under the tips of your fingers. It’s quick. He’s angry. “Sir, don’t. Please. I’ve already caused enough trouble. I need to just... take it with grace, I guess.” You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to ease him. “Thank you for trying to fight for me.”
With that, you take your hand off his chest and walk out of the room without another word. Your palm still tingles from where it laid on Aaron’s chest.
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Something There (Chapter 4)
7.6k words
Roy Kent x Reader
Warnings: Language, more enemies-to-lovers, some sexual references, Roy Kent starting to realize he's a pining fool
Series Masterlist
As I sat at my desk, I stole a glance into the Greyhounds’ office. There was Roy, sitting at his own desk, arms crossed, staring up at the tits drawn by an eight-year-old child, although I could tell by his stony expression that he wasn’t really looking at the drawing. He was thinking.
It had been almost a week after the team retreat, and he still hadn’t really looked at me or talked to me, not since we sat on the floor of that little shed and talked about “fairy tale shit”. Part of me had thought that something was about to happen as we sat there, something I hadn’t realized I could even be interested in, but Roy had ruined whatever that was. After we left the shed, he avoided me in a way that made the prior weeks seem downright warm and friendly.
During the rest of the retreat, he’d pointedly leave the table when I sat down for meals, completely shut down in our small group unless directly spoken to by anyone that wasn’t me, and on the bus ride home, without Rebecca instructing us to sit with anyone in particular, he’d made a beeline for the Greyhounds’ bus and sat with Jamie Tartt, who I heard looked both surprised and pleased to have his coach next to him for two hours.
Being back at the Dog Track was just as bad. If I walked into a room, he found a reason to leave. When we passed each other in the hall or when rotating use of the pitch, his phone was suddenly incredibly interesting, even if all he was staring at was a black screen. And he was no longer running next to me in silence after work while Lust Conquers All played overhead; instead, I caught him pulling up to Nelson Road an extra hour before his usual arrival time to use the empty weight room.
But I didn’t care. Not at all. Nope, not me. Roy Kent could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It didn’t matter to me one bit.
I turned my gaze away from the Greyhounds’ office and refocused on the email I was writing, letting Keeley know that a local paper, The Richmond Star,wanted to do profiles on some of the Whippets and asking her what I could do to help.
“The Richmond Star?” Lucas hummed, hovering over my shoulder. “That wouldn’t happen to be the newspaper of one George Willows, would it?”
My cheeks suddenly felt warm. “It might be,” I answered coyly as I hit SEND on my email. I turned my chair around to face my assistant coach.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Interesting.”
“Why’s that so interesting?” I snorted, knowing exactly what he was about to say.
Indeed, his smile turned wicked. “Oh, just that I keep seeing that particular name light up your phone every five seconds. And your interview with him was supposed to only be about a half hour, but the two of you sat in here for like two hours.” He leaned forward. “And I heard a certain coach hates him.” His wide eyes told me that he was relishing sharing that bit of gossip.
“Beard? Nate?” I asked, playing dumb, as if I hadn’t watched Roy Kent confront George in the hall the day of that two-hour interview. “They’re too nice to hate anyone.”
Lucas shrugged, glancing through the window I’d been staring at earlier; Roy was typing now, hopefully completely out of earshot of this very childish conversation. “All I know is that if you go out with George Willows, you might be ruining your chances with Kent.”
My face was now on fire with annoyance. “Oh no, whatever will I do? The guy who hates me won’t want to go out with me if I go out with a nice guy?” I hissed as I turned back to my computer, opening a spam email so I could look anywhere but at Lucas or Roy Kent. “Besides, it’s not like George Willows has even asked me out. And as for Roy fucking Kent-”
I stopped talking when I saw him get out of his chair. As he exited his office through the locker room, his eyes shifted towards our office, landing on me. For a fraction of a second, I saw that look I’d seen in the shed in the woods, the one when I swore his gaze flickered to my lips. The soft expression was quickly replaced with an icy glare and matching scowl before he disappeared into the locker room, his gruff voice commanding his players to hurry out onto the pitch.
My point proven, I looked at Lucas. “Oh yeah. That man is dying to go out with me.”
~
Roy stared at his phone with a deep frown. He hated having her phone number; more than once, when he was home alone with a drink in his hand, he found his thumb hovering over her name, tempted to text her or- even worse- call her. He wasn’t sure what the fuck he would even say, but he knew one of these days he was going to fuck up and hit that button.
Not that there was a single text between the two of them; they were, however, in a couple of group chats together. Right now, there was a new message for the two of them from Rebecca: Come to my office please.
Without a word, he showed the text to Beard, who simply nodded, immediately understanding that Roy wanted him to take charge for a bit. Wishing he had an excuse to avoid this meeting, maybe even meet with Rebecca one-on-one instead, Roy trudged back into the building and began to make his way to Rebecca’s office, grateful that he could at least walk alone.
Alone until he felt someone fall into step beside him. He didn’t need to turn his head to know it was her; and if he did, he didn’t know what he’d say. Unfortunately for Roy, she decided to fill the silence.
“We’re not in trouble, are we?” she asked, her voice almost light. “I mean, we haven’t even been in the same room long enough for us to argue.
Roy didn’t even give a grunt of acknowledgement. Instead, he picked up his pace ever so slightly, hoping she’d take the hint. Instead, she sped up as well, walking entirely too close for his comfort. When her shoulder bumped into his, he swore his whole arm felt like it was on fire.
Two incredibly long minutes later, they arrived at Rebecca’s office, where their boss sat at her desk, looking, for the first time, happy to see the two of them together.
“My managers!” she greeted, gesturing for the pair to sit down across from her. “For once, no one is in trouble,” she assured them with a wink, as if she knew what they were thinking. “The exact opposite, in fact.”
Roy tilted his head, relieved he could focus his attention on Rebecca. “Everything alright?”
Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. “Everything is great.” She turned to the other coach. “You feel ready for your first match?”
There was that cocky grin. “Oh absolutely. Next Saturday, we make history. The first of many Whippet victories.” Her voice was so confident, so sure. It managed to be simultaneously infuriating and attractive.
“That’s my girl,” Rebecca chirped with a wink. She turned to Roy. “And you fellas?”
Roy cleared his throat and sat up. “Yeah, feeling good. Got Crystal Palace here at home, should go in our favor.”
Rebecca nodded. “Excellent. Should be a good opening weekend all around.” She twiddled her thumbs, clearly wondering how to pivot to whatever she wanted to talk to them about. “I don’t want to add to your workload,” she started slowly, clearly intent on adding to their workload. “But at the retreat, I was watching your teams play that silly little game after their practice time. The one-on-one scrimmages?”
“Oh, that was great.” The American turned to Roy. “We should try that here sometime.”
Not wanting Rebecca to see him ignore his fellow manager, he nodded with a small grunt. Apparently enough of an answer to satisfy both women, since Rebecca went on.
“It was fabulous to watch. Really reminded me how much talent we have here, on both sides.” Her smile began to grow, green eyes sparkling. “So, I sent Keeley a video and we began chatting about how fun it was to see both teams together like that…” She shrugged. “And we’ve decided to have a little exhibition match.”
Roy leaned forward. “An exhibition match?” he repeated incredulously.
Rebecca nodded. “We’ll split each team and half and combine them so it’s a mix of Greyhounds and Whippets. You’ll each manage one of the teams.” She glanced at her computer. “You’ve both got a weekend off in five weeks, so that’s when it’ll be.” She was beaming, that same proud smile she’d worn when she first told the Greyhounds about the women’s team. “And Keeley thought we could make it a charity event. Half the proceeds to my foundation for underprivileged children, the other half to a charity of the winning manager’s choosing.” Her eyes shifted between the two gaffers. “So?”
Roy wasn’t surprised when the Whippet’s coach broke out into a grin. “I think that’s incredible,” she gushed. “It’ll be a great opportunity for the community to see us as one team.” She glanced at Roy. “What d’you think, Kent?”
Her asking for his thoughts was surprising. “I think it’s fine,” he blurted out. “I mean, good. Good idea, Rebecca.”
That was exactly what she was hoping to hear. “Excellent! I’ll have Keeley and Higgins get right on advertising and tickets and just-” Her smile looked like it hurt, it was so wide. “This’ll be fun. So fun.” She cleared her throat, composing herself. “Right. You two just have to worry about creating the teams and choosing your charity, then.”
“The Women’s Sports Foundation.” Roy had never heard someone answer so quickly.
Rebecca nodded. “Of course,” she chuckled. “Roy, just let me know when you’ve picked-”
“BMA Charities,” Roy blurted out. Rebecca blinked at him. “I mean, I’ll probably check in with Beard and Nate, but…” He shrugged. “I like ‘em.”
Next to him came the sound of someone clearing their throat. “BMA?”
Reluctantly, Roy turned his head, his eyes finding hers as if by magnetic force. “British Medical Association,” he clarified, pretending he didn’t feel like there was an elephant on his chest. “They do shit for doctors and med students.”
“Oh.”
Why did Roy want more than “Oh”? Why did it matter what she thought of his charity?
And why, once they were dismissed from Rebecca’s office and had walked down the hall to head back to their respective trainings, did Roy wish they could’ve walked together just a little bit longer?
~
For nearly a week, my first Game Day outfit hung up in my bedroom. The entire week before was spent selecting each piece carefully. My most flattering jeans, Richmond-blue blouse, white blazer, and the white low-tops I’d bought especially for the occasion.
As I cuffed my jeans, I looked at myself in the mirror. Yes. Good. Professional, sporty, and- dare I say it?- pretty. My first few months in England had been a blur of soccer, soccer, and more soccer, which hadn’t left me any time for… extracurricular activities, as Lucas put it.
In fact, the closest I’d gotten to dating would have to be at the club when Roy Kent thought I was hitting on him. Yeuch. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe I should get on the apps or something.
I shook my head at my reflection with a groan. Seriously? The morning before my first game in England, and there I was thinking about dating? Good Lord, Gloria Steinem was going to revoke my feminist card if I didn’t focus.
Determined to keep my eye on the ball, so to speak, I finished getting ready, throwing my hair into a ponytail and saving my red lipstick for last. I had worn this bright red lipstick my first time coaching a professional game and had won 5-0; it had become my good luck charm after that. Never went to a game, or a press conference, or an interview without it.
“Look at you,” Lucas greeted when I opened my door, looking at me over the top of his sunglasses. “Soccer Coach Barbie.”
I gave a little twirl, laughing at my friend’s praise. “You feel like winning, Luke?”
We walked into Nelson Road with smiles on our faces and Whippet water bottles in our hands. There was an electric buzz in the halls, and I couldn’t help but notice the particularly bright smiles on the faces of the women who worked for A.F.C. and W.F.C. Richmond. The biggest smile was on Keeley’s face, which we saw as soon as we walked into our office.
“Big day!” Keeley squealed as she pulled me into a hug. “You excited?”
“Very,” I confirmed, giving her a squeeze before letting go.
Keeley stepped back and looked down at her phone. “So, we’ve got a bit of pomp and circumstance before the match. Introduce the team, and you, little speech from Rebecca.” She winked at me. “A few words from our fearless manager. Then we go out there and kick some ass!”
After Keeley’s little itinerary, the rest of the time before the match was a blur. Players strutted into the locker room, pride on their faces when they looked up and saw their names above their lockers- a change made to celebrate our first match. After today, they’d be changed to reflect both players who used the locker, but today the Greyhounds insisted on letting the Whippets have their moment to shine.
Lucas and I spent some time in our office, reviewing our starting lineup and plays we wanted to keep in our back pockets. I did my best to ignore the goosebumps that formed every time I looked at the clock and saw the time inch closer to game time, but I found myself beginning to bounce on my toes.
I almost confused the buzzing of my body for the buzzing from my phone.
My office please.
Normally, Rebecca’s texts made my heart freeze, but not today. Today was a good day. The best day. I practically skipped to her office, feeling weirdly aware of the feeling of my sneakers hitting the ground. My eyes travelled over the photos of the Greyhounds’ history, of the men- coaches, players, owners- who made A.F.C. Richmond what it was. And it dawned on me that we would someday be on that wall- me, Rebecca, Keeley, Lucas, the magnificent women who were now changing into their Whippets kits for the first time.
By the time I reached Rebecca’s door, tears were threatening to fall.
“You wanted to see me?”
It was the millionth smile I’d seen that morning, but it was easily my favorite. Rebecca looked as if she was about to explode at the sight of me, looking glamorous as ever in her dress and coat- a coat that I noticed bore a little W.F.C. Richmond pin.
“Are you ready?” came her whispered question as she approached me.
“More than ready,” I assured her, a tingle going through my whole body as she took my hands in hers.
She gave my hands a squeeze. “I just… needed to say thank you,” she said. “Thank you for taking such good care of this…” She blinked a few times, her eyes shiny with tears. “I feel as if my child is going for her first day of school, I’m just so proud. I love the Greyhounds, but this is the very first thing that has ever been mine. All mine.” She shook her head. “And I am so happy that you are our manager.”
“Oh, Rebecca-”
Rebecca released my hands in favor of pulling me into a hug. “We’re going to win,” she hummed. “We’re going to win the whole fucking thing.”
I carried Rebecca’s words with me back through the building as I returned to the locker room, where my team would be waiting for one more pep talk. People nodded and waved to me in the hall, each moment of acknowledgement adding just a bit more weight to my shoulders.
“Oi.”
Just outside the locker room, I turned around. Roy Kent was a few paces behind me, hands in the pockets of his Greyhounds jacket. He gave a nod as he walked up to me.
“Good luck out there.”
It was probably the kindest thing he’d said to me since we’d met. Maybe the second kindest, after our moment in the shed.
“Thanks,” I stammered out. “You getting ready for your match already or something?”
To my surprise, he shook his head. “Here for your match. Rebecca asked us to come, show solidarity or some shit.” He shrugged. “So, I just thought I’d wish you luck.” He paused, glancing at the wall beside us, one that held a photo of him in a Greyhounds kit, running on the pitch. “It’s kind of scary,” he mumbled. “Your first match as a manager.”
“I’ve managed a team before,” I reminded him, giving a little cough into my closed fist. “But, you know, new country and all. Still scary as hell.”
“Right. Right.” He gazed at me for a moment, his eyes locked onto mine. I wondered if the shiver I felt was from the air conditioning or the intensity of his stare. “Well. Go get ‘em. Or whatever.” With a small grunt, he turned and walked away. Before I went into the locker room, I turned to look at him again. At that same moment, he turned his head and glanced back at me. As soon as our eyes met, he whipped back around and picked up his pace.
Weird.
But I couldn’t focus on that. My concentration needed to be entirely on the game.
“Alright Whippets!” I called as I entered the locker room. “Are we ready?”
I had rehearsed this speech for weeks. In bed before I fell asleep, in front of the mirror as I brushed my hair, in the shower while I avoided getting shampoo in my mouth, even to Lucas on a couple of occasions. And now I stood in front of twenty-seven talented women, ready to hear it.
“Alright, here it is,” I started. “Our moment. You are the first women to call yourselves Whippets. Wear it proudly.” I took a deep breath. “Never forget why you’re here. Never forget that feeling you had the moment you fell in love with this sport, when you knew that nothing else would make you as happy as being out there on that field.” I saw some wistful smiles appear. My own mind wandered to that afternoon my grandfather had taken me out to the backyard, the afternoon I knew I wanted to play soccer forever. “Remember that little girl who fell in love with the feeling of the ball at her feet. And go out there and play for her. Because today, we’re going to help the little girls of Richmond fall in love too.” I stretched out my arm, watching my players follow suit until all of our hands were in the center of the locker room. “Let’s go show them how the Whippets do it.”
There were cheers of agreement as a lump formed in my throat. I nodded to Kira Malone. “Captain?”
“Whippets on three, Whippets on three! One, two, three!”
“Whippets!”
~
Roy sat in the owner’s box next to Keeley, fiddling with the case on his phone, needing to do something with the burst of energy he felt. It only grew when the Whippets were introduced and took their places lined up on the field, bouncing with excitement as their names were called. Roy, of course, clapped along with the rest of the crowd, determined to be supportive with everyone in the box watching him.
“And the manager of your W.F.C. Richmond Whippets-”
A buzzing began in Roy’s ears. He watched as she took her place beside her team, the smile on her face evident even from where he sat. She looked gorgeous. Strong, joyful, confident. The sight set his whole body aflame.
He tried to focus on Rebecca’s speech, he really did. He knew this was a big moment for his friend. But fuck, all his eyes wanted to look at was her. And, once Rebecca handed over the microphone, he didn’t have much of a choice.
“Hello Richmond!” she began, eliciting cheers from the crowd- a sold-out crowd, much to Keeley and Rebecca’s relief and excitement. “Thank you for making history with us today. We are so proud to be your W.F.C. Richmond Whippets.” She smiled, soaking up the roars that naturally followed the team’s name. “We just want to say thank you to our dear Rebecca Welton and Keeley Jones, our incredible foundresses.” She wrapped her arm around Rebecca. “They are truly the heart of this team. We’d also like to give a giant thank you to your Greyhounds.” Thunderous applause. “Coach Kent and the team have been great housemates and have helped us to really feel at home here at the Dog Track. Thank you, boys!”
Keeley nudged Roy, whose face was on fire at the sound of his name. “She’s a fucking natural, isn’t she?” Keeley gushed. “And doesn’t she look stunning?”
Roy grunted. He was having a hard time hearing anything but her speech. “And we want to take a moment to say thank you to all the parents that brought their daughters here today. They are why we’re out here.” She turned to her team, who were watching her with admiration on their faces. “Whippets, are you ready to show them what it means to play like a girl?”
The stadium was deafening as she handed over the microphone to someone before smiling for photos beside her team. He sat quietly through the rest of the opening ceremonies before the match began. He hadn’t realized it before, but the owner’s box had a perfect view of the dugout; he spent half the game with his eyes glued there, watching her shout to her team, pacing back and forth, effortlessly cool in her blazer and sneakers. He bit back a groan when her blazer came off, revealing perfectly tanned shoulders, kissed from all the time the former athlete had spent in the sun. He wondered what those arms would feel like wrapped around- fuck.
Roy Kent really needed to get ahold of himself.
“You alright, Roy?” Keeley looked at him with genuine concern. “Your face is all… blotchy and red. Are you having a fucking heart attack or something?”
Rebecca, who’d taken her seat just before the match began, leaned around Keeley, her eyes still half-glued to the pitch. “Roy’s having a heart attack?”
Roy rolled his eyes and slouched in his surprisingly comfortable seat. “’m not having a fucking heart attack,” he grumbled.
From in front of him, Coach Beard grunted. “Oh, your heart’s doing something, alright.”
“Fuck off,” Roy growled, forcing his eyes to return to the pitch, hating the way he couldn’t help looking at the dugout every few seconds.
“What’s this?” Keeley leaned forward with more interest than Roy knew what to do with. She studied him carefully, taking in the sight of his red cheeks and shifty eyes. “Oh! You’ve got a crush, haven’t you?”
“Fuck off,” Roy repeated, sagging down further.
Instead of doing as she was told, Keeley began surveying the pitch carefully. “Hmm. Wonder who it could be… Amanda Camacho’s quite pretty… Samara Scott’s fit…” She stopped turning her eyes carefully to Roy, who was staring straight ahead, refusing to let his eyes land anywhere incriminating. “Unless…”
“Unless?” Rebecca repeated; the woman should have been holding popcorn in her hands, she was so invested.
“It’s not a player, is it, Roy?” Keeley leered at Roy. “Maybe it’s a coach?” She nudged him. “And I don’t think Lucas is quite your type.”
Roy knew his bright red ears were a dead giveaway, but if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he sure as hell wasn’t admitting anything to Keeley Jones, ogling at him with those fucking eyes of hers. “Keeley, I’m getting real fucking annoyed,” he warned her. “I was basically ordered to come to this game, I’ve got my own season opener tonight, so I don’t need you acting like we’re fucking thirteen making up imaginary crushes and shit, alright?”
Keeley’s squeaky little hmmph told him that while she wouldn’t keep pushing him right now, this conversation was far from over.
~
The shriek of the whistle had me throwing my arms around Lucas and squeezing him tight. A 3-1 win was a pretty great way to announce W.F.C. Richmond’s arrival to the league. A blur of hugs and handshakes eventually carried me inside, where I passed a few players starting to do short interviews, their faces glowing with sweat and pride.
“Any chance The Richmond Star could get an exclusive with the winning manager?” George Willows smiled at me, one of those charming move-star smiles, the kind that a girl couldn’t help but feel grateful to receive.
“You could always show up for the press conference,” I teased, gesturing down the hall. “I promise to call on you for a question. Bet I could even get you a front-row seat.”
His smile turned awkward. “Oh, I’m not allowed in there,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head in an attractively self-effacing way. “Your Greyhound counterpart got me completely banned from the Richmond press room.” He leaned in close, as if sharing a deep, dark secret. “He once threw a chair at me during a press conference. Since then, I’m not allowed to cover the Greyhounds or go in the press room.”
My mouth fell open at this piece of information. “That’s insane,” I hissed. “He throws a chair, and you get banned?”
George shrugged, clearly used to it. “Can’t exactly ban a manager from his own press room, eh?”
“Well, if you stick around,” I started slowly, stretching out my flirting muscles that were dreadfully underused, “I can fill you in on whatever you miss. Give you that exclusive.”
“Oi.”
Of course. Of course the moment I flirted with a guy, Roy Kent was there to interrupt, with his stupid beard and deep frown and eyes that lingered a moment too long on my face. “What?” I groaned, knowing I sounded like a petulant teenager caught kissing a boy on her front porch.
His frown deepened; if he was any other man, I’d marvel at how it did nothing to take away from his handsomeness. “Keeley’s asking for you. Says they’re ready for you in the press room.” His eyes narrowed in George’s direction. “Same rules, apply, Willows. Stay the fuck out.”
I offered George an apologetic smile. “Think we could stake a raincheck on that exclusive?”
“I’ll text you,” he promised with a wink.
There was a definite blush on my face as I turned to follow Roy to the press room. “Surprised you stuck around,” I mused as we fell into step together. “Thought you’d be long gone by now, get some rest before your game.”
“Wanted to offer my congratulations,” he mumbled. “To Rebecca,” he quickly added. “And the team. And Lucas.” His eyes flashed to my face for a brief moment. “And you.”
“Well, thanks,” I huffed as we arrived at the press room. “Meant a lot having you fellas here.” I kicked the ground, making a mental note to clean my shoes when I got home. “Hope you all win your game tonight,” I added as we stopped in front of the press room.
“Will you be there?”
Those were the last words I expected to come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. It reminded me of when my high school crush invited me to his baseball game, right down to the fidgeting and the question marks in Roy’s eyes.
Ignoring the way it made me feel, I nodded. “Uh, yeah, yeah I’ll come.” Rebecca had offered me a ticket, but said she understood if I wanted to be out celebrating. But if the Greyhounds came to my game, I should definitely go to theirs. Right? “Better get in there.” I jerked my head towards the closed press room door.
Roy shrugged, his eyes almost playful. “They’ll wait for you.”
I let out a small chuckle, unable to believe that we were having a civil conversation. “I’ll see you later, Kent.”
“See you, Coach.”
~
Sundays were for Phoebe. Roy would pick her up and take her to breakfast, letting her gorge herself on chocolate chip pancakes, then let her pick something to do together. Sometimes it was going to some Disney movie at the theatre, sometimes a museum, sometimes a trip to the toy shop, once in a while a beach excursion. Today, she simply wanted to go to the park for a picnic.
Of course, Roy obliged his niece. He packed up some sandwiches and snacks, rolled out a blanket, and brought a football and some cones. He might spoil the girl, but he was still her coach. Once they’d devoured their lunch and sat around for a bit, he pulled her to her feet and began kicking around the ball with her.
Being eight years old, her aim wasn’t always perfect. So, Roy really shouldn’t have been too surprised when she gave a wonky kick that sent the ball flying out of their play area.
“You kicked it, you get it!” Roy called, nodding in the direction the ball flew in.
Phoebe obediently jogged off, always eager to do what her uncle asked. Roy perked up when he heard her little voice, high-pitched with excitement.
“Oh! Do you play for the Whippets? My uncle Roy coaches the Greyhounds!”
He turned around and saw, to his great astonishment, Phoebe gazing up at a familiar pretty face.
The eyes Roy kept telling himself not to think about snapped up in his direction before looking back at Phoebe. “Um, yeah, I know your uncle Roy. I actually coach the Whippets.” She rolled the ball between her hands.
Roy walked over, watching Phoebe’s face light up. She gasped with joy. “You’re Coach Buck! My mum told me about you. You have an Olympic Gold Medal!”
That fucking medal.
She gave an awkward little laugh and tossed the ball back to Phoebe. “That would be me. Do you play…” She offered Roy a small smirk before looking back at Phoebe. “… football?”
“I do! My uncle Roy coaches my team at school. He’s very good.”
“I’m sure he is.”
Feeling his face warm at the praise, Roy tapped Phoebe on the shoulder. “Oi, Pheebs, why don’t you go set up the cones? Do some dribbling?”
Phoebe stuck her little hand out, her politeness reminding Roy of how mature she was becoming. “I’m Phoebe, by the way. It was nice to meet you, Coach Buck.”
“Very nice to meet you too, Phoebe.” She shook the girl’s hand firmly. “We’ll have to get you and your mum out to a Whippets’ game sometime, alright?” The wink she gave Phoebe had Roy holding his breath.
“Yes!”
Roy cleared his throat. “Pheebs, the cones?”
Phoebe scurried off to do as she was told. Both adults watched her for a moment before turning back to each other, exchanging awkward half-smiles.
“You coach her school team?”
Roy shrugged. “They’re good girls. Decent players, too. And they listen a hell of a lot better than the pricks at Richmond.”
She nodded, studying Roy carefully. “So, you don’t hate women’s soccer. It’s just me.”
“I don’t hate you.” She shot him a skeptical look that he couldn’t help chuckling at. “Alright fine, I fucking hate you.”
Her laugh would echo through his head for the rest of the afternoon. “Don’t worry, I hate you too.”
They both stood there, grinning and hating each other, both kind of wishing literally anyone from Nelson Road was there to witness their civility. Hell, someone might even mistake it for friendliness. Some idiots might go so far as to get it mixed up with flirting.
“So that’s your niece.”
“That’s my niece,” Roy confirmed, following her gaze to Phoebe, who had finished setting up the cones the way he’d taught her and was starting to dribble between then.
“The one that draws the…”
Roy chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the one that draws the…” He mirrored the way she trailed off.
Her smile grew soft as she watched Phoebe. “She’s cute.”
“She’s a fucking idiot,” Roy scoffed. “But she’s my fucking idiot, I guess.”
A small hmmph escaped her lips as she tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know, for the exhibition game, Keeley and I were talking about having kids escort the players out to the field. Thought it’d be nice to have it evenly split, boys and girls.”
“Because we don’t have enough girls walking out with the Greyhounds?” His defensiveness was almost a reflex at this point. “Because honestly, we do our best, we just get a lot more boys interested, alright?”
For once, she didn’t take the bait for an argument. “Actually, I was wondering if Picasso there would be interested in being one of our kids.”
Roy blinked, feeling like an idiot for his reaction. “Oh. Yeah, I think she’d like that. Just need to ask my sister.”
“She can even hang out in the dugout during the game.” Her voice was light, friendly. “Let her see a woman coaching a team. It’s important for girls to see that kind of thing, you know? Why d’you think I keep Brandi in my office? Even if your niece isn’t interested in soccer as a career, any little girl would benefit from seeing women doing ‘men’s work’.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, thanks.” Roy paused, kicking a rock with the toe of his sneaker. “My sister’s a doctor, by the way.”
“Oh.” She looked directly at Roy now, thoughtfulness coloring her expression. “She’s why you picked your charity. The med student one.”
Roy nodded. “Exactly.” He hesitated but decided to continue. “She’s a single mum. Things aren’t always easy. She’s stubborn as hell and refuses my help outside of babysitting. She’s, er, had to rely on BMA for help once or twice.” He stared at her for a moment. “I get the strong, independent woman thing. I respect it.”
He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sight of her soft smile. “You must be proud of her.”
“I am,” Roy confirmed. “And of Pheobe too. She’s a strong kid.”
There was a comfortable silence as they watched Phoebe continue her drill, her blonde hair flying in her face, not deterring her tiny focus. Roy found that he really liked the way Coach Buck looked at his niece; there was a fondness there that made his chest feel warmer than it had in a long time.
“She’s why I love my job,” she finally murmured. “Girls like her. I was so lucky to grow up with heroes that made me believe that seeing my name on the back of a jersey and being an Olympian was something I could realistically aspire to. And all I wanted was to be the same for other little girls. My dream was that someday, some little girl would have my poster on her wall.”
Roy knew that feeling. “Be her Brandi Chastain,” he murmured before he had the chance to even think.
She looked surprised, almost impressed, her mouth forming a perfect O when she realized he’d remembered that name. The grin that grew on her lips was slow and gorgeous. “Be her Brandi Chastain,” she repeated softly.
Roy thought they’d get to share another moment of just looking at each other, wondering how else to fill the silence, when her eyes suddenly widened. She whipped out her phone and took a look at it.
“Shit,” she hissed. “I’m late.”
“Late?”
Her eyes suddenly became shifty as she avoided Roy’s gaze. “Got an interview about yesterday’s match,” she murmured.
George fucking Willows. “Oh. Right.” Roy cleared his throat, retreating back into himself. “Better get going, then.”
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” She took a step backwards, away from Roy, away from their conversation and whatever moment they were having.
Roy knew he was offering up a grimace rather than a grin. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
~
The next few weeks were… peaceful. Probably the most peaceful I’d had since starting at Richmond. I wouldn’t say Roy Kent was friendly to me, but we weren’t screaming at each other, and he wasn’t pointedly ignoring me the way he had after the retreat either. He was even running silently on the treadmill next to me again. We were finally just coexisting. And I kind of liked it.
“How’s this?”
A paper was shoved in front of me on my desk, interrupting the email I was writing. I looked up and saw Roy looking at me expectantly. When I looked down, I realized it was a pair of rosters, with our teams divided up and combined.
“Oh.” I blinked. “You picked the teams already?”
“Had Isaac and Kira do it,” he corrected me. “Wanted to see what the captains thought before we did it ourselves.” He shrugged. “Did a fucking good job in my opinion. I’m okay with their picks if you are.”
I took a moment to read through the rosters; he was right. “Well, it saves us the work,” I chuckled, handing the paper back to Roy. “They’re split evenly enough to make things fair. My team’s still going to kick your ass though,” I teased.
He raised one of those thick eyebrows at me. “Care to make a wager?” he challenged.
“I mean, there’s already the whole thing with our charities,” I reminded him, twirling the pen in my hands between my fingers. “But what’d you have in mind?”
He thought for a moment. “Winner gets to pick someone for the loser to dance with at the gala.”
Rebecca’s charity gala. It was just a few weeks away, and already it was all everyone could talk about. Both teams were buzzing with gossip about outfits and dates; a couple of Greyhounds had even asked a couple of Whippets to attend with them, much to everyone’s amusement and nerves. My favorite rumor I’d heard was that one of my goalkeepers was bringing Timothee Chalamet as her date.
“Fine.” I stuck out my hand to Roy. “It’s a bet.”
His eyes froze on my hand for a moment before he took it, giving it a firm shake. “Right,” he muttered, letting go quickly. “Got to head to the pitch. Just wanted to run the teams by you.” He gave an awkward little salute. “See you around.”
He was gone before I could even say “see you”.
The morning of the exhibition game, I found myself leaning back in my chair and staring up at Brandi Chastain, thinking about how crazy it was that I, an American who had won the World Cup and had an Olympic Gold Medal, was in England, the head coach of a professional women’s team. And it was because of Brandi Chastain, and Mia Hamm, and Kristine Lilly, and so many other names that were etched into my very soul. I wondered if somewhere out there was a little girl who felt the same about me.
“Hi, Coach Buck!”
I turned around and felt my mouth immediately turn into a grin. “Well, hello, Phoebe.” The woman behind her was looking at me with interest as I shot out of my chair and strolled over. “You must be her mom.” I stuck my hand out. “I’m-”
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” she said with a laugh, shaking my hand warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh.” My eyes flickered to Roy, who had appeared behind the duo.
His sister cleared her throat. “You know, from the news. Seen you on the telly, read a few articles, saw a couple of TikToks.”
I forced a smile, scolding myself for thinking Roy Kent talked about me at home. “Oh, wow, I’m on TikTok? Biggest accomplishment of my life right there.” I turned to Phoebe, who was wearing a Whippets jersey. “I hear you’re joining me on the pitch today.”
Phoebe nodded enthusiastically. “Uncle Roy said I get to hang out with you the whole game.”
“That’s right,” I confirmed. “Here, you can hang onto this for me.” I grabbed my clipboard from my desk and handed it to her. “It’s got my lineup and notes. Very important. Think you can manage?”
“Yes!”
I reached out and ruffled her hair. “Excellent. Just don’t let your uncle Roy see it, alright?” I shot her a wink before I turned back to the adults. “Your brother got you good seats, I hope?” I teased Roy’s sister.
“Owner’s box, believe it or not.” She raised her eyebrows. “In fact, I’m heading up there now to take advantage of the free booze and snacks.” She turned to Roy. “Can I leave Phee with you?” When her brother grunted and shrugged, she knelt down and began to say goodbye to Phoebe, offering last-minute reminders about behavior and listening to adults.
As mother and daughter spoke, I took a step closer to Roy. “Ready to lose?”
He snorted, an almost friendly sound. “Nope. Yourself?”
“Nope.”
By the time we were on the pitch, Phoebe was my new little best friend. She proudly stood by my side as we lined up, with Rebecca reminding the crowd that each team was playing for charity- my team for the Women’s Sports Foundation, Roy’s for BMA Charities. He and I exchanged curt nods as we turned to our dugouts, all business as the match got underway.
Phoebe clutched my clipboard to her chest and stuck to my side the entire match. I had expected her to want to sit and relax at some point, but instead she was my second shadow, mimicking the way I paced, watching me even more than the game. It was the most flattered I’d ever felt in my life.
I snuck a few glances over to the other dugout, amused at the opportunity to watch Roy Kent coach up close and in person. He was loud- unsurprisingly- and passionate. What was a bit more surprising was the compassion he carried, the way he shouted support to his players (and mine) throughout the game.
And his Greyhounds parka looked pretty good on him.
Shaking my head as I caught myself staring for the umpteenth time, I turned my attention back to the game, feeling thankful to have Jamie Tartt on my team. He’d scored two goals already, and we were all tied up. No one had brought up the idea of what to do in the case of a draw, but I didn’t want to think about that; I wanted the win. And, with less than two minutes left in stoppage time, Kira passed the ball to Jamie, who breezed by one of the Greyhound defenders to come face to face with one of my goalkeepers.
“Let’s go Jamie!” I heard Lucas shout beside me.
When the ball hit the back of the net, I threw my arms in the air. We were close, so close to the end of the game. After the kickoff, there were only a few touches before the referee blew her whistle.
“Yes!” I yelled, bumping fists and hips with Lucas. I turned and high-fived Phoebe. “Great job, Coach Pheebs.”
She beamed at me. “Thank you! That was so much fun!”
Both teams lined up on the field, exchanging hugs and high-fives as we all waited for Rebecca to come onto the pitch to announce the donation. She was absolutely glowing as she stood on the field, flanked by Roy and myself.
“What a game!” she began. “Thank you to our players for giving it their all, and of course our wonderful managers for leading these impressive teams.”
Roy stepped out in front of Rebecca and offered his hand. Shooting him a grin, I reached out and shook it firmly, keenly aware of the shuttering of cameras going off the moment our hands touched.
Rebecca went on. “Thank you all for joining us today. The proceeds from our tickets, as well as the generous donations from our sponsors and so many of you, will be going to two wonderful charities. The first is the Welton Foundation, which benefits underprivileged children in our community. The second-”
Without thinking about what I was about to do, I tapped Rebecca’s shoulder. She shot me a confused look but leaned in close. “I’d like to share it.”
“What?”
My eyes shot to Roy, who was staring at me with perplexed eyes. “The money. Split it between the Sports Foundation and BMA.”
Rebecca’s face turned soft. “Lovely,” she murmured, giving me a proud nod of approval. She returned to the microphone. “We have a slight change of plan. Our winning team has chosen to split their donation. So, all the proceeds from today’s match will go to the Welton Foundation, the Women’s Sports Foundation, and BMA charities.”
Roy Kent broke out into a full, true smile as he looked at me. “Thank you,” he mouthed.
All I could do was shrug in response, ignoring the heat on my cheeks when I saw the way his eyes lingered on me long after the cheering had died down. When I did finally turn away, Lucas was giving me his smarmiest grin.
“Oh, shut up,” I hissed as we made our way back towards the locker rooms, ignoring the now-familiar feeling that someone was staring at me.
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orange show speedway
or: Carole and Maverick go to the Del Mar fair with their kids
like father, like daughter masterlist
warnings: swearing, jealous teenager Rebel, this one’s just kind of for fun as we move into summer, did i get Carole completely wrong probably, Bradley’s got a girlfriend for like five seconds and we never see her again, Maverick hasn’t hit his stride in comforting his daughter yet and it’s funny, i wrote this on a whim in like an hour and am posting it before i lose my nerve
word count: 1.6k
You huff, plopping down at the barely-shaded table your Dad and Carole are sitting at. She peer at you from over her sunglasses, a smile on her face. “You alright there?”
“No.” You say petulantly, crossing your arms. Maverick laughs, licking his ice cream cone.
“What happened kiddo?”
You sigh, rolling your eyes at the thought of why you had come back to the table in the first place.
You and Bradley had both entered the photography contest at your high school. In an effort to work with the youth, the Del Mar fair offered free tickets to every high school student who entered it with a ticket for every entry.
You’d both submitted two entries, planning on going to the fair together twice, especially now that Bradley had a shiny new license he could use to drive the both of you.
And then, it all came crashing down when your neighbor had gone to the fair and snuck in alcohol, getting blackout wasted and nearly arrested. Your Dad had insisted he and Carole go with the two of you.
And honestly, you weren’t really mad about it. Carole hadn’t seemed like herself for a few months now and any time to spend out with your Dad you would jump at now that he was back in San Diego on leave for the next little while.
No, you were more disappointed at the fact that you wouldn’t get to spend time alone with Bradley like you had been looking forward to. you wouldn’t get to go on the spontaneous ice cream tip that was sure to happen after the fair or jam together in the Bronco with the windows down to songs his parents used to listen to.
But your parents had been good, promising they’d let the two of you hang out for the day with a wink from Carole and a nudge from Maverick.
And then-
“Bradley’s girlfriend showed up.” You mutter.
Your Dad hums. “I haven’t gotten to meet her yet. We not a fan?” He asks, eyes flickering to Carole. Carole shrugs, the patterned sundress moving with her.
“She’s alright.”
“No, she’s a fucking bitch.” You mutter under your breath, which earns a “Hey!” from Maverick and a flick against the head from Carole.
“Watch your language.” Carole says sternly, shooting you a look as Bradley and his blonde cheerleader girlfriend come into view. “And be nice.”
“Whatever.” You mutter under your breath as Bradley beams, sweaty under the California sun.
“Hi Mom. Uncle Mav, this here���s my girlfriend Angelina.”
Maverick nods as the girl waves. “Hi Mr. Mitchell, it’s nice to meet you. Bradley’s said so many good things about you. Mrs. Bradshaw, it’s good to see you.”
“Kiss-ass.” You mutter, earning a pinch from Carole underneath the table.
Carole waves a hand. “Angelina, I told you. Please call me Carole.”
Bradley sits down, leaning his body against the table as he face his Mom. “We ran into April and Alex and all them.”
Carole hums, finishing her ice cream. “Oh that’s fun!”
“Yeah and I think they wanna go on a bunch of rides. So,” He says, sticking his palm out face-up. “I need money for tickets.”
Carole sighs, face falling. “What happened to the money I gave you and the start of the day?”
“I spent it on food!” He says, voice rising with defensiveness.
“You teenage boys and your appetites.” She mutters with a shake of her head before digging through her bag on the table. “Okay, here. But this is all you’re getting for the rest of the day, do you hear me?”
He grins, taking the money from her in an instant. “Thanks, Mom!” He says, leaning over to press a kiss on her cheek. “See you guys later!” He calls, grabbing Angelina’s hand as your Dad blinks, watching him go.
“Well, he couldn’t wait to get out of here.” He says, shaking his head as he looks down at your open hand. “And what do you want?”
Carole smirks, leaning over the table to give you a high-five.
You shoot her a glare, before turning back to your father. “Money.”
“What do you need money for?” You Dad says with an incredulous look.
“So I can call Slider and tell him I’m having a terrible time and I need him to pick me up.”
Your Dad says your name, rolling his eyes.
“I’m serious, I know he’s in town. I’ll even throw in fake tears if I have to. I just don’t want to stay here.”
Your Dad sighs, moving to lean his arms against the table. “Are you really having that bad of a time? Go hang out with Brad and his friends, they all seem really nice.”
You scoff. “Yeah, to you. They hate me. And Angelina’s a bitch. She’s all, rude and passive aggressive towards me, like I’m trying to steal her man. Like I haven’t known the kid since he was in his dinosaur phase and ran around the house with nothing but dino undies on, pretending to be a dinosaur because someone let him watch Jurassic Park.”
Carole clicks her tongue and she tilts her head. “I will never forget Bradley climbing the bookshelf and nearly falling off.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s a real clumsy fool. Cash please?”
Your Dad sighs. “Well- I-”
He looks at Carole for help as the two communicate together silently in the way they do.
You could only hope to have a friendship like they do some day, in the way that they’re family to one another, brother and sister, wholeheartedly nothing but platonic soulmates.
Finally, Carole sighs. “Tell you what? Why don’t you and I go look at the photography exhibit and afterwards, we can go get you some funnel fries and share them and talk about the coolest pictures we saw like we like to do.” She leans forward, voice dropping down. “And, if you win any awards, I’ll take you out to dinner next week, just me and you. Wherever you want to go.”
You shrug. “I guess.”
She sighs, leaning back up. “You wanna get in on this, Pete?” She says, jerking her head towards you.
Your Dad’s head shoots up, eyes wide. “Uh...” He puts his hand out, awkwardly patting your shoulder. “Sorry.. you uh, don’t have any friends kiddo?”
Carole groans, hand falling as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
“I’m going home.” You say, standing up from the table.
-
“Hey, c’mhere.” Bradley says, grabbing your arms. You whirl around as he drags you up the ramp for the ferris wheel.
“Where in the fuck did you come from?”
“No time for questions, just walk.”
“Bradshaw!” Someone shrieks and your head flies around, spotting Angelina storming after the two of you.
Bradley’s still dragging you along as you splutter, completely baffled. He hurriedly ushers you into the gondola as the attendant shuts the door behind the two of you, giving the pair of you a confused glance at the urgency in which he’s moving.
Angelina is lost to the ground as the ferris wheel begins it’s rounds. Your eyes are still wide as you turn back to Bradley, who seems to be very proud of himself, arms leaning up agains the back of the gondola.
“What the fuck was that?”
Bradley shrugs and you try not to look at the way his t-shirt hugs his shoulders. “I broke up with Angelina.”
You blink, tearing your eyes away from his body as they fly up to his face. “You did what?”
“She needed to go. She was a bitch to you-”
“Don’t let your mother hear you call her that.”
“-and mean to my friends and she was sleeping with Jameson Hall behind my back anyways.”
You snap your fingers. “I knew it! told your mother she was a kiss-ass!”
He chuckles. “I needed a quick escape and you were right there and I didn’t want you to get caught in her rage cross-fire.”
“You know you’re gonna have to face her when we get back down, right?” He shrugs.
“That’s a problem for later. What did you do today?”
You shrug. “I don’t know, your Mom and I got funnel fries and watched Mav lose at all those carnival games cause I told him I wanted him to win me something. Oh, and we went to the photography exhibit-”
“Wait, I didn’t get to go, Angelina wouldn’t let me out of her sight. Did I win anything?”
“You won nothing. I won first place for both of my submissions.” You say smugly, sitting back in your seat.
He smiles, his eyes lighting up. “Hey, that’s not bad!” He says, reaching out for a high-five. You respond, smiling when an explosion sounds behind you. You crane in your seat to see the fireworks going off.
“Hey, come sit with me on this side. That way you don’t have to twist in your seat and I don’t have to worry about you falling to your death.”
You probably could’ve just shifted on the bench but you move to sit next to him anyways, squeezing in next to him. Bradley’s arm rests on your back as the two of you watch the colorful explosions in the sky.
“I kind of think these are a fire hazard.” He mutters.
You snort. “Hm, let me think. Fireworks in Southern California in summer. Yeah no, not a fire hazard at all.”
You both break out into laughter as the ferris wheel continues on.
“Did you have a good day?”
You give a half-shrug. “Did you?”
He nudges the back of your shoulder with his hand. He feels warms, even through your sweatshirt meant to keep you warm against the chilly ocean air.
“Better now, that I get to spend it with you.”
You roll your eyes. “Who’s the kiss-ass now?”
"i think it all kinda feels like an orange show speedway/when you’re racing head first towards something that’ll kill you in five seconds flat/when i’m racing head first towards everything that i want back”
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Got You! - Ghost x Reader Oneshot (NSFW)
please mind the tags on this one! this one is especially dark! tags: heavy noncon, slight dubcon, some torture, predator/prey dynamics
Summary: Being on the frontline as a Kortac hacker is just another job for you. But after a mission goes sideways, you find yourself in the clutches of a broken yet monstrous man they call Ghost.
You typed quickly and quietly on your tablet. A thick cord wormed its way from a port in its back all the way into a wall of servo units. The wall blinked and hummed, some lights flickering as you did your job and did it well.
"I can't believe they're paying so much for such little data." You murmured to yourself, eyeing the storage left on your removable drives. It was less than a couple gigabytes of intel. Off in the distance, you heard a few pops of gunfire, your fellow Kortac members keeping the area secure for you in particular.
"What a weird place to put this shit." You murmured again, glancing around at the room.
You couldn't remember where, in what country you were exactly. This was your third intel op for the week, it was all beginning to blend together. First time had been Russia, and then Spain, and then...Morroco? You were in Morroco, right? Based on the soft rug beneath your knees, the cotton drapes, and the casual color scheme, you supposed so.
All that mattered was getting the hell out of dodge. You half glanced back down at your tablet, another five minutes to completion. Most of the lights on the racks of servers had turned red, a sure sign you were doing your job correctly. Although, the more you looked around the stranger it all felt. Yes, you were a talented hacker. You'd worked hard to get where you were, but your instincts had never let you down either. Something about a server room being in the living room of a Moroccan household didn't seem right.
You heard some more insistent pops of gunfire. They weren't as far away as before. Your heart began to thump with the beginnings of anxiety. Leo, your main escort, was sure to be just outside of the cinderblock house. A part of you wanted to run to him, but you had to stop yourself. Three minutes, and you'd be able to get the hell out of there.
The pops of gunfire quickly became sprays. You heard something shatter across the street. Fuck.
"Leo!" You hissed out, grabbing your tablet, readying to rip the cord out of the back. "I almost got it!"
Thirty seconds. Come on. Come on!
Leo burst through the door, slamming it behind him. He huffed with adrenaline, forcing the door to lock and slamming a nearby bookcase against it. The gunfire was outside. You heard some yelling and returning fire. A man cried out in pain, you guessed one of yours. The glass of the living room window exploded.
Luckily for you, the servo units blocked your body from the main impact. Unluckily for your tablet, it was knocked from your grip. It skidded across the floor, screen shattered with a hole in the center.
A sniper.
You tried to reach out for your trusty tablet, but Leo had other ideas. With one of his large, tan arms, he hooked it around your center and yanked you upwards. Before you could even question him, he began to pull you towards the direction of the back of the house. Sprigs of his usually neat, slicked back hair fell across his forehead. He looked worried, an expression you were not used to seeing on the normally jubilant man.
"Leo, wha-"
You were cut off by the sound of the front door and bookcase splintering inwards. Daylight streamed into the dark house, making it harder to see. Leo practically picked you up and carried you as he ran. There was a long hallway with multiple doors that he locked behind you until finally, your path ended in a bedroom. The layout of this house was strange, but you hoped that it would help throw off your pursuers for just long enough that you could escape. It seemed Leo was thinking the same thing.
"Come on, girlie! The window, quick!" He huffed out through his thick, Australian accent. You happily obeyed, trying desperately to lift up the sill of the nearest window.
"It won't move!" You cried, throwing your entire shoulder against the small ledge. You yelped out in pain, multiple nails had pricked your palm. "It's nailed shut!"
There was a sickening crash from somewhere on the other side of the door. Leo stood tall, his rifle in hand, ready to blast a hole through whoever was planning on coming through. He looked over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in determination. Somehow, his energy was what you needed to keep from falling into a pure panic.
"Try the other one, girl! Kick it out 'f ya 'ave to!" He commanded, his low voice like a spell.
You climbed up onto the bed in the corner of the room. Sure enough, there was a skylight within reaching distance. You threw your body up the wall, the metal bed frame squeaking and shaking beneath you. You clawed and scratched, your fingertips barely making it to the ledge.
"I can't reach!" You cried. "M' too short!"
Leo made an aggravated noise in his throat, but it wasn't directed towards you. Out in the hall, there was the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked open. You glanced down at Leo, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.
So this was it, huh?
Fucking weeks, months, of being stationed with this random man, and this was how both of you were to die. Cornered and helpless in a foreign country. A part of you supposed that maybe it was meant to be. Leo had always been kind of sweet to you in comparison to the rest of the men you worked with. Hopefully, your shared end would be quick.
Leo's eyes quickly swapped between you, the skylight, and the door. He blinked and then jumped up onto the bed with one stride. You squeaked as he pushed you to the wall, lifted the butt of his rifle, and knocked the glass out with a singular, smooth motion.
"Leo wai-"
He didn't wait. He dropped his rifle on the bed, hooked his hands underneath your thighs, and lifted you easily. Despite his help, you only managed to be tall enough to get your arms through the windowsill, but it was enough.
The door to the bedroom was thrown open with so much force that it caused the plaster of the wall to crack. Leo turned his back to the wall, letting your legs kick off his shoulders.
"It was a pleasure!" He called up to you, voice cracking.
"LEO!" You cried.
A folley of shots flashed from a muzzle in the doorway. Leo let out a garbled growl, reaching for his knife in its holster. He surged forward with his weapon, blood spots leaking into the back of his canvas vest. Leo was dying, and yet he kept fighting.
Fighting for you.
You refused to let his sacrifice be in vain. You turned your attention back to the roof beneath your fingers. The skylight was part of the floor of the flat roof of the house. If you managed to get your body through the sill, you could potentially be able to run from rooftop to rooftop to safety.
You used what little leverage you had in your arms and legs to push yourself up. It hurt, the glass dug into your fatigues and was no doubt embedding itself into your skin, but you hardly felt it.
Leo called out your name in a gritted scream.
You had to keep going.
Tears pricked in your eyes. You kept squirming and clawing your way up, pulling your right knee through the window. That was the final amount of leverage you needed. With a hard kick, you threw yourself a couple feet away from the skylight. You sucked in a well needed breath and turned over to fall on your knees.
You'd made it.
All you had to do was stand up and make a running jump to the next banister. You presumed it couldn't have been more than five feet away. Totally doable, even for your smaller stature. You got your right foot underneath you, using your hands to push up from the floor.
Something wrapped around your right ankle, squeezing so impossibly tight you felt the joints squeak. You cried out in pain, trying to right yourself, but falling onto your left side. You looked down at your legs to see what had ahold of you.
Fear froze you in place.
Through the darkened hole of the skylight, surrounded by broken glass, was the dark figure of a man's head. He was covered in all black, save for the bleached white skull he stared at you through. His eyes were so dark and smothered in kohl that only the whites of his eyes were truly visible.
He looked alien.
And he had a terrifyingly casual hold of your ankle with only one hand.
"Got you..." He hummed, his voice deep and dark and dangerous.
The panic finally kicked in, in full force. You screamed and threw your entire body weight away from the strange monster of a man. It seemed he anticipated your move because he tugged back at the same time you tried to surge forward. You gained absolutely no ground.
Tears began to blind your vision and you clawed and kicked with your free foot. You miscalculated. The extra foot was his next target. With his other hand, he snatched your free ankle into his grip.
You fell to the ground, kicking and screaming. Your leg muscles burned, your heart felt like it was about to explode with panic. You tried so desperately to use what was last of your strength to wiggle free, but it was no use.
With one very hard yank, he pulled you backward. In what felt like slow motion you watched as you were torn away from the sunny afternoon, the terracotta bricks and laundry clotheslines of freedom. You fell down and down and down into the darkness of the bedroom prison that was sure to be your tomb. Your nails caught on the texture of the wall as you belly flopped onto the bed below.
All of the air was forced out of your lungs. The fall had only been a few feet, but the impact of hitting your ribcage on the metal bedsprings of the mattress was enough to wind you. You sputtered and coughed, subconsciously curling up on yourself. The blankets tangled into the soles of your boots as you tried to put distance between yourself and your attacker.
A beat passed, and you gasped out, finally getting a lung full of air. You panted hard, putting your arms over your face, expecting a flurry of blows or a knife in your ribs.
"Who do you work for?" The man asked as he slowly stepped off the bed with heavy, measured footsteps.
Hysterically, you sobbed, refusing to look at his masked face. Despite your fear, you felt him come around the side of the bed to lean over your face. In a complete panic move, you kicked yourself backward, only serving to push yourself deeper into the corner of the bed against the wall.
It seemed the masked man's patience was dwindling. He roughly grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you with enough force to slam the back of your head against the wall. The pain, luckily, did clear your head enough to actually answer the question he asked.
"K-KORTAC!" You stammered out. "I-I work for K-Kortac! C-cyber tech o-operator!"
The man looked down at you with an odd sort of interest. He looked down at your legs, seemingly off in thought. The light that filtered down from the broken window cast him half in shadow and half in light. Behind him, on the floor, lay a body in a growing pool of blood.
"Leo..." You hiccuped out in recognition, feeling an intense pull of hysteria.
The man didn't even glance back at your fallen comrade. Instead, slowly, his eyes panned up your body until his gaze landed right on the Kortac chest insigna of your kit. Tears plinked down your lashes and into the canvas material.
The mystery man clicked a button on a comm unit tacked to the front of his vest. A man on the other end yelled out a callsign through static.
"Ghost! Ghost! How copy?" The voice had an accent you couldn't make out in your addled state.
"Copy, Soap." The masked man (Ghost, you presumed) spoke back. "Get to exfil now. Don't wait for me."
"But Ghost-"
"I said don't wait for me, sergeant." Ghost nearly yelled in annoyance. "Exfil in 40, out."
He stopped pressing the button on his comm unit and looked down at you once more. His expression was unreadable. You tried to make yourself seem as small as possible before him.
Ghost slowly glanced over his shoulder with only his eyes. He seemed to give Leo's dead body a short once over before he focused his attention on you again.
"You shag 'im?" He asked.
"Wh-...what?"
"You shag 'im?" He asked again, this time using your name to make the question somehow even more personal.
You looked up at him in a mix of horror and revulsion. What kind of question was that? This man had pursued you like an animal, murdered one of the few men you respected in cold blood, and now wanted to know if you'd been fucking that man while his dead body was still warm?
"F-fuck you." You choked out. Despite feeling drained off all your physical strength, you still had some mental fortitude left.
Ghost let out a soft huff. Whether or not it was a noise of amusement or annoyance, you couldn't tell.
You screeched as he grabbed the front of your kit with one hand. He lifted you out of the corner and slammed you back down in the center of the bed. The metal base squeaked and groaned but held up beneath the impact of your body again. You yelped out as he took his other hand and pulled out a wicked looking knife from his belt. The edges glinted with red, drying blood.
You tried to bat away his hand but he was significantly stronger than you. Even with all your might, he didn't budge. Running on pure fear and self-preservation, you dipped your head down towards his wrist. You clamped your teeth down hard against his gloves. He brought the knife up to your kit but stopped.
He made that noise again. And this time, it seemed to border on amusement.
The world turned black for a second.
When you came to, you could taste copper in your mouth. It ran hot down your nose and out the corners of your lips like drool. You groaned out pitifully, your body giving up any and all fight.
The bastard had knocked your lights out.
Despite all of your senses swimming in pain, you could feel your body physically lightening up in weight. With a bloody gurgle, you glanced down. Your kit and utility belt had been cut away, leaving you in just your fatigues.
"There we go. Good girl." He grumbled, putting his knife away. Something about the tenderness of his voice did not match up with his actions.
You whined out a cry, and he let you. He made no move to deck you again. Instead, unzipped your pants, hooked his fingers into the waistband, and yanked down.
You tried to pull your legs up and away but barely managed to twitch them. Your pants grew tangled around your still boot clad ankles. Ghost took absolutely no time in ripping it all off your body, making you sob as he twisted your already sore ankles.
"Stop..." You hiccuped weakly. "Please."
Roughly, he pushed the hem of your longsleeve up and over your breasts. He jerked it up over your shoulders so hard the fabric snapped and ripped. He threw the ruined garment to the side, seemingly too enraptured by the sight of your near naked body.
Weakly, you put a hand up to his chest as he put his knee up on the bed. There was no strength behind your push, and it seemed to amuse him. He let out a cruel chuckle and pinned your hand over your head as he positioned his entire body between your thighs.
Tears spilled so freely down your cheeks and neck that they soaked the bedsheets beneath your head. This was wrong. He had to know this was wrong. He couldn't do this. Could he?
"Please...no..." You whispered.
He didn't say anything, just breathed in slowly and steadily, eyes roaming over your entire body. He didn't move to touch you, or rip off your panties, or do anything else as monstrous as he'd done before. He just stared at you with an odd sort of fondness.
With his gloved hand he cupped at your face. You whimpered and cowered in his touch, but it was sweet, almost lover like. He wiped as much tears and blood from your face as he could, even taking the corner of a blanket to dab the excess body fluids away.
You were so confused and scared. What the hell was wrong with this guy? If he wasn't going to kill or rape you what did he want?
The hysteria finally set in.
How fucking funny was this? You couldn't find a decent man for years. Leo was the only one to come close, and even then, he was dead. And the two of you had barely been considered acquaintances. This big, fucking hulk of a monster knocked you out, ripped off your clothes, and now wanted to be tender with you all of a sudden?
You giggled once. Then that giggle turned into a chuckle. Soon enough, you were laughing softly against the hand cupping your face.
"I...what do you want?" You managed out between hysterical pants.
He didn't answer, just leaned his body down low over you. The bed protested hard beneath you both but stayed together. Slowly, he began to put his entire weight down on you.
At first, you wheezed, your beaten body unable to handle the load on top of it. Eventually, after enough time, you began to melt beneath him. Despite the discomfort of everything, his body felt warm and solid... and almost safe in a fucked up way you couldn't explain.
Ghost slid his other hand between you, cracking your legs apart. His still clothed core pressed up against yours. You knew that the too hard lump straining against the fabric was definitely not a gun.
"Why?" You asked meekly. "Why are you doing this?"
The man buried his mask clad face into the crook of your neck. He inhaled sharply before slowly breathing out.
"Mine." He admitted, giving your body an experimental thrust.
He groaned low in his throat. Again and again he thrust hard against your center, his cock grinding into your panty clad entrance.
What did he mean he "mine"? He was trying to fuck your forcefully pliant body. This man was a fucking lunatic. What in the godforsaken world di-
The head of his cock brushed up against the mound of your cunt. Despite the layers of clothes between them the head found its way just deep enough between your lips that he brushed up against your clit. Tears pricked in your eyes. Again and again and again, he pleasured you with each cant of his hips. You cried at the feeling. He wiped the tears away sweetly.
Why didn't he just rape you hard? Why did he have to drag this out, make it sweet? If he wanted your body so bad why didn't he just take it? He obviously had no qualms about using force.
"Thas' it, love." He murmured softly. "Just like that."
Was this some kind of sick fantasy? Did he truly believe you were into this? Or was he just pretending you were to fulfill some kind of fucked up need for human closeness?
He kept rutting against you, mumbling quietly against your neck. Most of it was filthy name calling, the rest was too damn sweet for the act he was committing.
"Fuckin' pretty thing you are. Not getting away from me." He muttered, seemingly half out of his mind. "Never getting away from me. Ever again."
You were so confused. Since when had you ever met this man before? You were certain you would've remembered him and all of his monstrous qualities. You tried hard to squirm away from his touch, but he kept you right where he wanted you to be.
"Never again, love. Not letting you slip through m' fingertips again." With his free hand, he pulled the front of your sports bra down. One of your breasts popped free of its confines and into his view.
"No please..." You begged.
"Should've thought of that before you ran off." He growled.
Words relaying your confusion immediately died in your throat. Ghost tugged the bottom portion of his mask up and then proceeded to pull your nipple into his mouth. He bit you hard, making you scream before letting up. He lapped at the aching bud, forcing it to harden into a throbbing peak. As if just to spite you, he traced your areola with his tongue, making your entire body shake with whiplash from the pleasure.
"Stop please!" You begged. "You're hurting me."
Ghost made that huffing noise again, his breath cooling the saliva against your nipple. He pulled your other breast out and pressed the two together. He swiped the flat of his tongue over both buds. You squeaked and tossed your head back.
"Thought you could hide behind your lil' computer, love?" He growled out, his drool leaking between your tits. "Thought I'd never find you?"
"Wha-?"
"Thought you could just drop off the face of th' Earth n' I'd never find you again?" He nearly yelled. "Should've known a slag like you was just in it for a paycheck."
"I don't...what?" You tried. "What do you mean?"
Ghost sat up to glower over your face. His jaw was set hard. You could see the veins in his neck since he'd pulled his mask up to his nose. You blinked tears out of your eyes. What you thought was the shadow of his jugular turned out to be the corner of a neck tattoo. One you immediately recognized.
"S-Simon?"
Despite his obviously bad mood he still managed to crack a smile. It was genuine and yet still so full of malice. His grin was still as beautiful as the night you'd met him. And the night you'd chosen to run away.
"I was scared!" You cried out in admittance.
"You were scared?" He chuckled. "When every night you were in my bed n' cummin' on me?"
It had been years since you'd seen him. You'd been mere weeks out of university, adrift and broke, but with a shiny new certificate in computer science. Just to get a free meal here and there, you'd found yourself going out on dates with random men. You'd never had much luck with men, and so it was easy to forget their many faces.
But Simon's you could never forget.
He'd been quiet, almost too quiet. He'd exclusively asked you questions about yourself in a much meeker voice. Come to think of it, he'd sounded like a different person the whole time. Did he do it on purpose so as not to intimidate you? Or was it a side effect of the pills he was taking while he'd been on medical leave?
He'd made it clear the two of you weren't going to be long term. And you were okay with that. It wasn't until you got a job at a programming firm that he started getting leery. When you made it clear your fling of a relationship wasn't going to work he'd retreated. And then he came back...lurking in the shadows.
"I-you were stalking me!"
"You still have no idea what I've done for you."
For a moment the two of you looked at each other. The pure terror of a moment ago was starting to wash away. This man was no longer a complete, deranged stranger willing to murder you in cold blood. He was still unhinged and dangerous, but he'd shown he wasn't going to kill you immediately. Your chances of getting out of this situation were much more likely. You appreciated those odds.
"What did you-"
"Y' think i' was a coincidence?" He hummed, cocking his head slightly. "Getting that job. N' endin' up here?"
"Simon-"
"You were meant for me." Ghost said with pure conviction. "You were meant to be next to me...under me."
The egoistical side of you wanted to fight, to scream, to make it clear you'd never want him ever again. The other side was absolutely certain that to live through this encounter was to appeal to him. You'd done it before and it'd worked. It was partially why you'd slept with him so much back then. And why you'd forced yourself to cuddle into his iron grip afterwards.
"On your back. On your knees..." He kept trailed off, eyes drooping in arousal. You felt a hard twitch between your legs.
Your stomach lurched at the thought of your dead, fucked out body being haphazardly tossed on top of Leo's. You needed to live. You'd do whatever you had too. And you knew what'd it take.
"S-Simon...I-look I'm sorry." You swallowed hard, tasting nothing but copper. "You scare me sometimes, but I-I still really care about you."
"Don't lie to me, lovie." He scoffed. The usage of his old nickname made you shudder.
"Simon...I've never stopped thinking about y-you." You sighed out, feeling your skin flush with embarrassment for admitting such a thing. It was marginally a lie since you mostly thought about him with fear in your heart. But there was a part of you who missed his body, his hands, and how'd he'd fuck you apart night after night.
"Please....I-" You slowly moved to sit up on your elbows. As you did your core inadvertently brushed against him. A warm jolt of pleasure shot up through your spine and you couldn't help but bite your lip.
There was a new tension in the air.
"Always such a fuckin' minx." Ghost growled.
"J-just for you." You admitted, forcing your gaze away from Leo's body. "I swear..."
"I know." Ghost hummed, cupping your face in his palm. The sweet gesture made your lashes flutter.
"You're a good girl." He said, as if off in thought. "Just needed a break. N' now you're back, back w' me."
"I..." You blinked, feeling tears well in your eyes. You were playing right into his hand. You knew it, and yet...a part of you didn't care.
He'd pulled strings, murdered and God knows what else just to give you a life outside of him. It'd all been one big, nasty lie just to make you feel good. Just so your inevitable fall back into his arms would feel earned. Because you didn't earn anything. Your entire life trajectory had been an unearned lie. But somehow, someway, you'd earned his affections. And that was all that seemingly mattered in your life.
"Mm...missed you, love." He sighed.
With that he kissed you softly. He was too sweet, too loving. It made your heart ache. You couldn't stop the few sobs that escaped. He didn't seem to care as he licked over your blood tinged tongue. He tasted like he'd always had. Like fresh cigarettes and bitter pine. Your head swam.
"Fuck. M' missed the way you taste." Ghost sighed, licking his lips.
He roughly tugged your panties, making the stitching pop, forcing the elastic to dig into your flushed skin.
"W-wait I-" You squeaked.
It didn't matter. With an easy flick of his wrist the entire garment came off with a rip. The amount of strength and tension used on the cotton practically burned your skin as it was forced off of you. You cried out in discomfort, trying desperately to close your legs, but it was of no use.
Without another second to lose, Ghost hooked his arms up beneath your legs and forced them up. He pushed them back so hard and so quickly he forced the air out of your lungs. You gasped, trying to right yourself.
"There w' go." He growled, staring at your now bare cunt, your knees up to your ears. He kissed your mound, nuzzling his nose into the dusting of hair, breathing you in.
A part of you felt disgusted. You'd been sweating out in the desert, sweating in fear of him, and it seemed he was drinking it all in. Truly a beast he was.
"See you haven't shaved." He hummed, giving a few broad laps to your folds. With each lick, a bit of his thick saliva grew matted into the light dusting of hair. You whimpered.
"Good." He chuckled.
You yelped when he slipped his tongue into you. It was thick and wide and he'd never had any issues getting you open this way. He much preferred to lick your cunt lips apart to accommodate him than sully his fingers. You hated this despite how good it felt. His fingers were always a bit less personal. This way? You had no choice but to watch as he devoured you like a starving man.
You supposed he was.
He'd made it clear you were his and his alone. And if that was the case, then he was only yours too. At least, you'd hoped so. You hoped no other woman would ever be subjected to this torment.
You cried out, legs shaking from the stress but also the pleasure. You tried so hard not to watch him drill his fat tongue right between your lips. He was drooling, his saliva spilling down and down over your neglected clit and onto your squashed tits. He wiggled his tongue in a way that brushed over that rough spot he liked torment. He bullied the tip of his tongue as deep as he could, letting it point right between the gummy ridges of your g-spot. You couldn't help yourself.
It'd been years.
Every man you'd ever talked to had scorned you or disgusted you. You'd never wanted to touch one until Leo had come into your life. And even then, he was untouchable. You'd been too nervous to flirt. At the time you didn't know why, but now, you'd subconsciously known you'd had a skull on your back. Perhaps you were getting a slight kindness for staying untouched all this time.
You cried as you came. Your hips bucked and writhed. Your spine protested, your head swam from the lack of blood flow. Everything floated away for a gorgeous second before your soul slammed back into your addled body.
"Fuckin' 'ell..." Ghost purred. As he talked a wetness spilled out of his mouth. For a brief second you wondered if he was really drooling that much. "C'mon, lovie. Give it to me."
"Wha-"
Ghost latched onto your clit and sucked so hard you screamed. You felt two of his fingers slip inside you with no resistance. They bullied that spot again while he forced pleasure out of your nub. The first orgasm didn't have a chance to fade into an afterglow. The second orgasm came quickly. It burned. Your belly muscles didn't even have a chance to relax.
"Simon!" You mewled, absolutely lost.
He wouldn't stop. He kept taking and taking and taking. He let his teeth graze at the sensitive flesh of your clit. You saw stars again. This time, the orgasm was so violent you screamed. Every bone in your body shook. Your eyes rolled up into the back of your head.
You came to with the warm splashes of wetness against your breasts. A familiar and yet foreign pressure in your belly was being released. More warm wetness dripped quickly onto your neck and chin. You let out a weak cry.
When you finally managed to open your bleary eyes you realized what'd happened. The entire bottom half of Ghost's face was shiny with slick. He huffed against you with pure excitement in his eyes. Your cum coated the inside of his mouth with the telltale sheen of cream.
"Knew you were a squirter." He grinned at you.
It was as if your orgasm was a feast for him. He hungrily lapped every ounce of your relief off of your body. To get to your cummy chest he released your legs. They fell apart, and you groaned in relief. Fresh blood finally flowed to your head, and you grew dizzy.
"Ah ah, no goin' soft in th' head on me now, lovie." Simon hummed as he laved his big tongue over your wet breasts. He slapped your cheek. Not enough to really hurt you, but certainly enough to clear up the stars in your eyes.
"Simon..." You hiccuped.
"Only got a few minutes left." He mused, eyes scouring over your entirely bare body.
Despite wanting to fight him, your extremities felt like jelly. You couldn't even catch your breath. All you could do was lay there in complete submission.
Without a warning, Ghost used his strength to flip you completely over. He forced you up onto your knees and pressed your face into the now tainted sheets.
You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but there wasn't much of a point anymore. No one was coming to help, and even if they did they'd be dead before they could process what was even happening to you. Ghost was going to take you. And you'd asked for it.
It beat death, right?
He entered you roughly from behind. Luckily, he'd prepped you well, so there wasn't any pain. Just the warm, muted burn of him stretching you open for the first time in years. You'd forgotten what the feeling of sex was like. You couldn't help the low groan that escaped your lungs.
Ghost was right there with you. He hissed loudly, gritting his teeth as he sunk right into you. His big, gloved hands palmed roughly at your ass. He forced your cheeks apart to no doubt give him an excellent view of where you joined together. You squeaked when you felt a couple of his thick fingers spread your lips apart even further.
"Fuckin' 'ell." He groaned. "Missed this tight lil' cunt o' yours."
You whimpered.
"Next time I'll make sure you get the fuck you deserve, lovie." He growled. "But m' runnin' short on time."
"Si-."
A hand roughly grabbed your throat and squeezed. You opened your mouth in shock but nothing came out. No words, no air, just a silent shock.
Ghost began to move, fucking you roughly. He wasted no time in forcing his fat cock back into those parts of yourself you didn't know existed. He kept his grip tight. You couldn't breathe in or out. Tears and panic began to well in your chest.
With the smallest amount of energy you had left, you tried to claw his hands away, but he just choked you tighter. The mix of fear, lack of oxygen, and pleasure was too much for your brain. Black spots began to form in your vision.
"There we...ngh-go." He huffed. Every thrust was punishing. You could feel his sharp hipbones and hefty balls slap into your core. Your only saving grace from the stinging contact was the cushion of your innate softness.
You began to choke. The pressure building in your chest and behind your eyes was immense. The entire room was spinning. Drool spilled past your open, air hungry lips. The black spots began to completely fill your vision. Everything started to float away into that dark, sleepy place.
"Fuck." Ghost panted, his thrusts becoming uneven. "Fuck!"
The moment he came, he let up on your airway.
Everything had turned black for you. When you finally came to, completely out of it, the entire act was over. It hurt to much to move, but you could feel the wet cream between your legs. It had been awhile but you could never forget the feeling of being stuffed with Simon's seed.
His comm unit made a static-y noise and he answered it.
"M' on m' way. Five minutes to exfil." He hummed. "N' I managed to catch a lil' bird."
Ghost didn't wait for his teammate to respond, instead he lazily got off the bed. He eyed your body, smirked, then pulled his mask back down.
"I hope you learned your lesson, lovie." He said, lovingly rubbing your cheek. "Time t' come home."
You couldn't make any noise, your voice stolen from you. You couldn't even swallow. All you could do was lay there and look at him as he took to work getting you dressed again. He was haphazard and rough. Anything he couldn't put back on you, he didn't. The last thing he adorned you with were ziptie handcuffs to your hands and feet.
Ghost then threw you over his shoulder and headed back out the way he came. He didn't even bother to walk over Leo's corpse. Instead, he opted to step directly onto the dead man's head. You closed your eyes and desperately tried to block out the sickening, wet sound.
The sunlight burned but its blinding, white rays were welcoming. You'd never thought you'd see the light of day again, and so the blistering heat of it was welcome. Something told you to relish in it, as it might be awhile before you'd get to see it again.
The position over Ghost's shoulder made it impossible to look up. The only thing you could see were the back of his legs and feet. However, you could hear the sound of men yelling and running around. They began to get washed out by a helicopter whirring, it's blades cutting the air and cooling the sweat on your skin.
Ghost stepped onto the helicopter and unceremoniously dropped you to the metal plated floor. You couldn't even groan in pain as your leg took the brunt of the fall. All you could do was lay there, restrained and in so many different versions of pain.
The small grouping of men in tactical gear hungrily eyed your body. Each one was more distinctive than the last. One of them slow whistled and when he spoke you recognized him as the man over the comm unit.
All of the men, including Ghost, stood around you. They discussed your fate, each one getting more and more creative as they went on. The one in charge, the one with the beard smiled sweetly down at you. He wiped a stray tear away from your face with the back of his curled index finger.
"Oh, don't worry about it, Simon. We'll get 'er to sing for us."
In that moment, you realized you should've asked Leo to shoot you when you had the chance.
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