#but just leave it at that. no need to be a wanker in how you go about it

[historyartthings]

#1 #2

[courfee]

just went through all my ao3 fics and edited all the tags because i feel like i overtag a lot and it always bothered me. tbf the most overtagging happens in my relationship/character tags but i find it super difficult to judge who/which relationship is important. like friendships are So Important in my fics i dont feel like i cant tag less there? especially my longer fics. amtc james&sirius and black brothers are in my mind at least if not more important than literally amtc jegulus. i know its a jegulus fic but also jegulus is just the catalyst for other relationship dynamics. how do you tag that stuff

[81pastrys]

Lost at a Race

Summary— when Lando’s wife goes on a business trip, he has to bring his little girl to the paddock with him. However, when he got distracted she wondered off.

Warnings— none

A/N— I was inspired by someone else’s fic, if I find it I will be tagging the original!! I added a little Carbono too.

Dad Lando List

Lando didn’t like his wife’s idea of having his little girl at the paddock without her, but he had no choice. She was out for a business trip and he had free practices to do. When it came down to it he took his eyes off her for not even 10 seconds and she was gone.

���Where did she go?” He asked, slightly panicked. Hoping she just went to Oscar’s side of the garage. “I just had her next to me.” He went on. Oscar noticed his panicked teammate and trotted over.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, mate.” Oscar stated. Then it hit him, where’s little Norris? “Wait, where’s your daughter?” His eyes widened and they split up to look for the little girl.

The garage hadn’t noticed their drivers disappear, let alone scrambling around looking for a toddler. When they did, the drivers were already jogging from garage to garage asking for her. “She looks just like me? Did she come in here?” Lando asked a Ferrari member. A shake of their head was all he needed to move on.

“Little curly headed baby, looks like Lando?” Oscar asked a RedBull mechanic. The guy looked towards the pit lane and then back to Oscar. “I need an answer Lando’s going nuts right now.” He spat out quickly to show the urgency. The mechanic shrugged his shoulders with a no.

However in the Williams garage, Carlos was holding the little girl. Her favorite uncle. He was showing her around and explaining things. Alex had joined in, seeing how adorable she was and couldn’t resist. “She’s adorable, Lily would die seeing me with her.” He joked.

Carlos took a picture of the three of them and it was sent to their girlfriends along with Lando. Lando had made it to Haas before he got the message, severely panicked and shaken up by losing his little girl. He had called his wife at this point and had her freaking out from a different country. “Fucking wanker.” Lando mumbled seeing the text.

“What?! Did you find her?” His wife rambled on, still freaking out. “Lando!” She yelled. He sighed before slowly making his way to William’s. He motioned to Oscar, who was confused seeing as he had no little girl.

“She’s at William’s with Carlos, my love.” Lando said defeated. “He just sent me a picture of him and Alex holding her.” He explained. She went on yelling at him about responsibility, she was so loud he put his phone on speaker, then turned the volume down. “I love you, but I’m at Williams though so I have to go get her.” He said tired of her nonsensical yelling.

“She’s not very happy.” Oscar mentioned walking to McLaren, leaving Lando at Williams hospitality. The Williams workers looked confused as Lando walked in like it was his team. His anxiety from his little girl missing was smashed by seeing her giggling in her uncles arms.

“Dada!!” She squeaked seeing him approaching. Carlos relinquished the baby to her father with a chuckle. “Uncle los!” She pointed to Carlos.

“Yeah?” Lando said with a smile. “I see uncle Carlos, sweetheart.” He nodded and she hugged his neck. “Please don’t ever do that again.” He whispered to himself sighing with relief to have her tiny arms wrapped around his neck.

“She’s a pleasure to have around.” Alex joined. Not understanding how the little girl even got into Carlos’s possession. “Why do you look so pale?” He asked Lando, who gave him a seriously mean look. Alex recoiled and walked off.

“Cabron, be glad she found me.” Carlos joked. “Liam would throw a tantrum if she found Max.” He stated, which was true. Liam wasn’t fond of anyone other than redbull employees strolling on in to their garage.

“I know, but she nearly gave me a heart attack.” Lando mentioned. He walked back to his garage and held her the rest of the evening until he had to get in the car. “If you lose her you’re dead meat.” He warned his trainer.

“Like you did?” Jon joked. The death stare he got was not worth it. Jon, in fact, did not lose the little girl. He sat in Lando’s driver room with her while they watched free practice.

Lost - Carlos pov

Carlos had went to Ferrari to wish Charles and Lewis luck during the practice. On his way back to Williams he spotted a little head with curls. He stopped and crouched down. “Los!” She squealed. Of course, McLaren and Ferrari were right next to each other. “Dada’s in there.” She explained in toddler babble. She was right near the exit of McLaren, how she got through the maze of an exit he’ll never know.

“Is he sobrina?” He asked. He picked the little girl up and went on his way to the Williams garage. He didn’t think it was too big of a deal. He showed her his helmet and Alex’s side of the garage. “This is Alex, sobrina.” He explained seeing Alex light up.

“Why hello!” He greeted her with a smile. “Sobrina? Is that her name?” He asked. The little girl giggled as Alex tickled her.

“No, it means niece in Spanish. This is Lando’s daughter.” Carlos explained. Alex had shown her his helmet and then they went on to take a picture and sent it to Lando and their girlfriends.

A few minutes later Lando was in his garage. “She nearly gave me a heart attack!” Lando explained. The little girl was returned unharmed.

‘cabron’ means multiple things apparently, but it is used casually like dude in this fic 😳. ‘Sobrina’ means niece as Carlos mentions.

[laswells-ashtray]

What if Sergeant Price was originally a weapon before he met Mac and Kate? I feel like it’d be a lot similar to how Price met Nik: a violent man turned informant.

I also think he reverts back to his old self sometimes, most likely in high stress situations or if someone crosses a boundary.

Anyhow, this is just food for thought. Love ya pooks!👋🏻

Firstly, being called pooks made my day. Love that. Secondly, for that reason, I shall be answering this before I close my puter and make shortbread. After getting to the end of writing this little tidbit I gotta say, one of the best asks I've ever received. It came to me like I was spitting the prophecy, it was such an easy write.

Ghost notices, he picks up on John's posture and demeanour when their mission gets fucked. Their intel was off and Ghost won't be surprised if they leave with a fatality amongst the group. But he sees John go from Captain who they were joking over comms with to John fucking Wick in a matter of seconds. They're violent people, the job calls for it but John is lethal. He pulls a man off of Gaz and snaps his neck when the cunt won't stop struggling, he doesn't blink when they look at him wide-eyed. He just moves on and plunges a knife into someone else.

Ghost watches him take a punch before he shoves a man's open mouth over the edge of a table and slams his boot into the back of his head, they all hear the crack of his jaw and Soap puts a bullet between the poor sod's eyes to put him out of his misery.

The way John moves is instinctual, it's like he's stuck in fight or flight only John has never been one to flee. Someone tries to attack him from behind with a crowbar while he's prying open a door and John beats the man with it until one of his eyes starts to gouge out of the socket. He's covered in blood, known of it his own and he doesn't seem to be aware of it. Or entirely present and that's what sets them all on edge, he's relying on some kind of instinct or past training.

And then suddenly it's over, the bodies stop coming and they're back at exfil waiting for Nik to arrive. The Russian isn't supposed to be there, no one comments on it. They'd all rather it be Nik than some wanker that none of them know as the adrenaline stops thrumming in their veins. John responds to Laswell over comms but he's detached, they can all see it and from the worry in Kate's tone, she can hear it.

When Nikolai, the glorious bastard, arrives with his precious heli he doesn't tell them to jump in like he'd usually do. He takes one look at John before getting out and approaching him like one approaches a stray cat. He doesn't wrap an arm around the captain like he usually would, and no friendly greetings with some muttered Russian pet name tacked on at the end. He makes a point of standing an arm's length in front of the captain, easy to step back out of reach if he needs to do so quickly.

"John?"

John stares right through him, eyes blank and scarily lifeless as looks at Nikolai. Simon nods off the sergeants and watches them park their arses in the heli, not without sending their captain varying looks of worry. Nikolai offers him a thankful look over John's shoulder and Simon offers him a nod but stays put.

It's John, he knows John and he trusts John with his life but the same man he trusts with his life is currently drenched in blood and seemingly unaware of where he is. He isn't leaving Nikolai to handle him alone even if he knows the Russian is as strong as he is.

"Captain, do you want Kate to call MacMillan?"

Simon narrows his eyes at the pilot, watching him curiously. He knows who John's old captain is, he's met the man before. Wicked funny and sharp as a knife.

The name seems to trigger something in John, he tilts his head looking at Nik with far more clarity than he'd had a moment ago.

"Wha- No, 'm fine."

Even John sounds unsure but there's a familiarity on his face as he looks at Nikolai that hadn't been present before. Nikolai looks relieved, his shoulders falling as some of the tension leaves him.

"You should call him later."

It isn't a suggestion, it's an instruction. One John doesn't seem to argue with as he glances down at himself, taking in his current state.

Nikolai glances at him over John's shoulder and Simon takes the hint to drag his arse back to the heli. They need a second, one he isn't supposed to be present for. He doesn't judge as he silently slips away, ignoring how John all but falls against the Russian's front.

[metalomagnetic]

Hello Metalo- after being tortured by Mal, I am in desperate need of some crack, so! In similar vein to canon Voldemort meeting all of his lovers, canon Sirius meets his:

- Bella from EMD, Bella 2.0 from Ouro

- Voldemort (from It runs and Mal)

- Astrid

- Andromeda and Lucius from Family

- James from Inevitable

- Greyback from The thrill of the chase

- Severus from Turmoil

What happens?

My guess on what he’d do depends on his age- the only certainty is that he’d bully Snape into a pulp. And that Mal V and It runs V would be duelling in the corner.

Sirius cannot accept there is a universe out there where he fucked Snape; he just refuses to believe it. It's impossible.

"I mean, it seems like you fucked Voldemort in another one, so-" James says.

Apparently Sirius fucked James, too, in yet another world. That, he doesn't doubt. He's happy; from all this insanity, since these people came here, since the skin crawling realisation he fucked Snape, the only joy he has is seeing James again. It's not his James, but it's a version of him, and Sirius hadn't left his side all night.

Now his eyes leave James, to look at Voldemort, sitting in a corner with Bella. "I can see it," Sirius says, with a wince, taking Voldemort in, his tall frame, his imposing stance, power crackling around him. "I'm sorry, but I can see that happening before Snape."

James snorts. "And look, you fucked two of your cousins. You dog!"

"It's not me!" Sirius protests. "I'd never-"

"Oh, shut up," James teases. "Even in my universe you had a thing with Bella. You never explained, but I know it happened."

Sirius takes another sip of his drink. "Andromeda at least said it's a marriage of convenience-"

"Yeah, so you could be with Malfoy-"

"Ugh." Sirius hides his face in his hands. "I truly am a dog."

"He does have pretty hair," James allows, with a smile, but he turns grim fast. "I'd rather that universe for you. You were happy, at least. I rather all other universes than the one you got-"

"No, don't say that! There's one where you were never born, where Voldemort won, and-"

"I'd take that for you," James insists. "You don't deserve this world. And they certainly don't deserve you, the fucking wankers, I can't even think of Remus abandoning you in Azkaban! He did that in my world, too, you know? You forgave him, but I never did."

Sirius breathes out, takes another sip of whiskey. "He's- I don't care anymore. I only care about Harry. Nothing else matters to me."

James hugs him, fiercely, and Sirius hugs back, basks in the opportunity to hold James, any version of James, one last time.

"You're like that in my world; you love us fiercely, and Harry adores you. You're his favourite dad, you know? Whenever he has a problem at school, he tells you about it; if he has a nightmare, he calls for you."

Sirius' heart swells, hearing it. Gods, what a lucky bastard that version of him is! He got to raise Harry, and he got James.

A young woman sits beside them at the table. "May I?" she asks, after she already sat down.

Both he and James nod. She's beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous. James kept looking at her through the night. Sirius checked her out a few times, too. Apparently, she's his wife, in the same universe he fucked Voldemort.

"I'm sorry to intrude," she says. "It's just that I cannot stand any of these people, besides Lucius. But this Lucius is...different. He left me alone to hide from the dark lord." Her nose twitches with distaste. Fuck, but she's adorable.

"Tell me about Sirius' kids!" James asks her. "I wanna hear all about them!"

Another Orion; apparently Sirius named all his sons, in all the universes, Orion. Something clenches in his chest, painfully. This particular one sounds like a handful, as the girl- Astrid- describes him.

I bet he isn't even close to how difficult the Orions born from Andromeda or Bella are. Those must be nightmares.

"No!" Sirius protests when he hears about Marvolo. "It's impossible I raised a snitch!"

Astrid smiles, a beautiful, mesmerising sight. James can't look away. Sirius elbows him in the ribs. "He's not a snitch! He is simply...fond of rules."

The third one, Helix, bites people. "That sounds like Sirius's son," James jokes.

"And, of course, there's Harry. He's a little angel, he never gives us any trouble, though you- my Sirius spoils him something awful."

James's hand tightens on Sirius' thigh, when he hears Astrid describe Harry as Sirius' son.

"Thank you," he whispers in Sirius' ear.

"Don't thank me," Sirius says. "Apparently I fucked your killer in that universe." He turns to Astrid. "Gods, you should leave me- I mean, the other me. He's clearly missing some marbles."

"You are a perfect husband, though," she frowns, clearly bothered. "I wasn't aware about the dark lord situation."

Sirius looks in Voldemort's direction again, meets those quite frankly mesmerising eyes, and quickly looks away.

I wonder who fucks who. He shakes his head to dispel the curiosity. Best not think about it too much.

"Maybe he has me under the Imperius," he mutters.

"Snivellus certainly gave you a love potion," James says, glaring daggers at Snape, sulking in a corner.

"Yeah!" Sirius is happy to take this explanation. "Definitely. That's what must have happened!"

"When I go back to my world, I'll tell my Sirius about it and we'll go bully Snape into an early grave," James promises, and Sirius is jealous, so jealous of that Sirius.

"Yeah, I'll bully mine, when he comes to Grimmauld," he mutters, but truth is, he is made to feel so useless, locked up, not allowed to help, that it's hard to bully anyone, isn't it?

"I cannot believe you allow all these blood traitors and mudbloods into your ancestral home," Astrid says. "These Order people."

James meets Sirius' eyes, and he knows they're thinking the same thing. Oh, that's what's wrong with her. She was too perfect, otherwise.

"How do I put out with this nonsense from you?" Sirius asks her, bluntly.

She shrugs. "You ignore it."

(-)

Andromeda and Lucius are the calmest of the lot, the most reasonable, really. Sirius can see himself having a marriage of convenience with Andromeda. She's always been practical, and the easier to get along from the sisters.

And Lucius....well, James is right. He has pretty hair. And apparently he renounced Voldemort in that universe.

Apparently, Cissa saved Harry's life. Good for her. Sirius hopes maybe...maybe Cissa from this universe will one day do the same.

He remembers she became a dragon whenever someone mistreated her porcelain dolls. He cannot imagine she's taking kindly to her son being inconvenienced by Voldemort.

Once again, his eyes stray to that corner. Once more, he meets that red gaze.

What the fuck happened there? Sirius is curious. Must be the Imperius, right?

Surely.

Speaking of questionable choices...

"You should have stayed with me," Greyback tells him, later, when Sirius makes his way to him. The wolf is playing with a knife, twisting the blade expertly. "It would have been a kinder fate than what you got."

Sirius opens his mouth to tell him he's not a traitor, that he would never fuck or stay with the man that ruined Remus' life, but...how can he say that, when apparently in another universe he fucked the man that killed James?

Greyback is a shit wizard, he can't be using Legilmancy, so it's just a weird coincidence that he says, " the dark lord, really? In my world, you'd cut your cock off before allowing him near you."

"I must have been coerced," Sirius mumbles. "And you probably caught me in a bad moment-"

Greyback laughs. "Oh, I caught you in many bad moments, little brat. And you enjoyed it every time."

Disgusting. Sirius moves away.

For some reason, even though Snape is the worst, he still finds himself walking towards him, even if he meant to head for Bella. Somehow, his mind apparently wants to avoid her more than Snape.

Snape won't look at him, arms crossed.

"You slipped me a potion, didn't you?" Sirius asks, hopeful.

Snape snorts. He raises his chin, defiant, but still won't look at Sirius.

He looks....better than actual Snape. He looks....washed, and dressed properly. With horror, Sirius realises that what Snape is wearing is what Sirius would enjoy seeing on a wizard-

"Oh, fuck," he mutters. The other me is dressing Snape!

Gods, how does that Sirius live with himself? Unbearable.

How does Snape live with himself? "Do you have a humiliation kink, or what the fuck is wrong with you?" Sirius hisses. I almost fed you to a werewolf, he wants to add, but Snape blushes, fiercely, and Sirius steps back, horrified.

Alright, best not to bully Snape, then. At least not this Snape.

Shit, what if my Snape shares this....misfortune?

No. He can't think about that.

(-)

For a few minutes, he sits with Bella in silence. He just can't think of what to say.

It's too painful. It's impossible that he'd-

And then she draws him into a hug, and- oh.

He hugs back.

"How is mum?" Sirius asks, in her hair. "And Regulus?"

"Good," she says. "Everyone is doing great. Our children are perfect. We have the perfect life, my lord made sure of it."

He doesn't want to fight with her. He fought with her enough. And it's useless, anyway. Sirius is apparently a fucking whore, in all these universes, trading lovers, shifting morals, but Bella- Bella is constant. In all the universes, she remains loyal to Voldemort. Her convictions never waver.

"Children? Plural? I heard you talking about an Orion-"

"We have five," Bella says, drawing back, with a smile.

"Five? What the fuck?!"

"The last two are twins. A surprise, later in life. I only kept them because one of them was the girl we both wanted."

Sirius blinks. "What's her name, then?"

She laughs. "We fought for nine months about it," she says. "I wanted-"

"Delphini," Sirius says, remembering, from his youth, as the girls talked about children, future marriages. Bella always said she'll have a daughter and name her Delphini.

Her eyes soften. She cups his cheek. "Yes," she whispers. "You wanted Walburga."

"Fuck out of here!"

"You were adamant. So her name is Delphini Walburga."

"That poor girl!" Sirius says, incensed on behalf of this child.

He spends a lot of time with Bella, more than he imagined he'd want. But he's mesmerised with her stories of home. Of a different home. A home Sirius apparently never left.

Would I have truly stayed in Grimmauld if there was no James in my life? Would life had been as easy? Or would Sirius feel something missing, even if he would never learned what?

(-)

There's no avoiding him any longer. He's the last one. Besides, he's the one that figured out how to get everyone back to their universes, and he needs Sirius' blood for a ritual to open a portal.

"Come." He leads Sirius to a different room, and Sirius has to follow him, though James looks after them, anxiously.

They enter a room, and there's a dead body on the floor-

"What the-" Sirius' mouth snaps shut when he sees who it is, there on the floor.

It's...Voldemort.

"Don't mind him," Voldemort says, kicking the body. "He had it coming."

Sirius stares between them. "There's two of you?!"

"Were," Voldemort corrects, his eyes staring into Sirius' soul.

"Wait, I fu- I had a thing with you in two worlds?" Now that is horrifying. Once is a mistake, but twice? There are two Sirius running around fucking two Voldemort?

Well, I suppose there's only one, now.

"No." Voldemort's eyes flash with furry when he looks down at the body. "You didn't have anything with this one. You didn't have a choice."

Oh.

Sirius blinks, relieved. Alright, so at least one version of him is sane. But the fact that this Voldemort apparently would kill himself for forcing Sirius-

That means, in Voldemort's world, he is not, in fact, holding Sirius under the Imperius.

The curiosity increases, tenfold. He likes me, it strikes Sirius. He likes me enough to kill for me.

How....awkward. "Congratulations," he blurts out. "On winning, I mean. You're not easy to take down."

Ah....there it is.

Voldemort smiles, and Sirius thinks he understands what the other Sirius sees in him.

The smiles transforms his face, makes it human. Handsome, even.

He has a dimple, for fuck sake.

No wonder Bella ends up fucking him in so many worlds, if he has that dimple.

"I admit, I had an ally," Voldemort says. "Bella, of course."

Of course? What? "No version of Bella would turn against any version of you!" Sirius insists.

No, it's not possible. Because if it's possible, then he'll spend the rest of his life wishing his Bella would do the same, and that only leads to heartbreak.

"This was an aberration," Voldemort says, gesturing at the body. "He shouldn't have been allowed to exist at all."

"You- I mean, you in this world- you're not that great, either."

"I gathered." Voldemort's jaw twitches.

"You looked like this," Sirius says. "In the first war. But now Harry says you look like a nightmare."

"I believe that's the least of his issues, here," Voldemort says, after some seconds.

"Can't argue with that." He bites his cheek. "Though, admittedly, I don't really know you. We haven't properly met."

"A tragedy," Voldemort says, and -

It throws Sirius off, how honest he sounds.

"I must be very impressive in your world," Sirius mutters.

To attract Voldemort's....attention like this, Sirius must be some amazing version of himself.

"You are."

Sirius has no idea what to say to that, what to do with the way Voldemort looks at him.

It's not with Greyback's predatory hunger, it's not with James' joyful eyes, not with Andromeda's care, or Lucius' desire.

No, it's....Sirius can't place it. Never has anyone looked at him quite like that.

Tender, almost, but not quite. Or, not only.

"Impressive like Bella? You're with her, here. At least that's the rumour."

Voldemort smiles again. "That is the rumour in my world, as well. And I can confidently say it is false."

A few seconds of silence pass between them. Voldemort keeps staring.

Sirius stares back.

"Your hand," Voldemort finally says. "I need your blood to complete the ritual."

"You can have the blood, you don't need the hand," Sirius snaps. The other version of him....gods know what is going on there, but Sirius can't make himself touch the man that murdered James, in any universe, no matter how curious he is.

That makes Voldemort smile wider. "Impertinent, as always," he comments, but it's' with fondness.

Sirius cuts his hand, collects the blood in a vial he conjures.

"You should remember this is who you are," Voldemort says, as he takes the vial. "Arrogant, proud, brave. You shouldn't allow the Order to treat you this way. Not after all you sacrificed for them."

It makes Sirius ill, physically ill, that Voldemort, out of all people, says this.

That everyone else in his world treats him like a reckless child, a burden that needs to be locked away, that they don't trust him to help, never recognise what he's been through, and here Voldemort is-

He shakes his head, pushes his anger down. "I don't care what they say. I am singularly focused on my goal, and they happen to be on the same side I am." Sirius only cares about Harry. And the Order does, as well. For that, Sirius is grateful. Harry needs all the people he can get in his corner.

"Why do you love that child so?" Voldemort asks. "I don't understand it. I need to understand it."

"He's all I have left of James," Sirius says. "He's all I have left."

Voldemort opens his mouth, but closes it again. He turns, and pours the vial on the runes he drew on the floor.

"Do you enjoy watching the stars, Sirius?"

It bothers him, the way Voldemort speaks his name, with such familiarity.

It bothers him Voldemort knows this about him.

Does that other Sirius also like to climb on the roof and stare at the stars?

"Yes."

Voldemort nods. "Next you do that, think there are many worlds, out there, where you have more than Harry Potter."

[thegnomelord]

Missing You

CW: NSFW, sub bottom Soap, dom top Reader, phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, edging, sex toy, dom/sub. Quick and rough but that's how the horny strikes.

Like always, asks/requests are open :Dd

You've been gone on a mission for nearly a month now, and Soap doesn't know what to do with himself. Even when you text him sporadically to tell him you're alive, sometimes he feels like a housewife, stuck awake late at night wondering if you'll return to him as a pair of dog tags.

And even later at night he can't help thinking of what you'll do to him when you come back, ravage him until he's drooling and his brain is leaking from his ears.

As days turn to weeks he finds himself trying and trying to jerk off to no avail. No matter how much he tries he can't seem to get himself off while you're away; he could fuck his cock into his fist until his skin's rubbed raw and his balls are so full they feel like they'll explode but nothing ever comes out. His body is just so used to having your body over his and your scent in his nose and just your presence near that it can't cum without it.

Pure need breeds desperation and has him finding himself at your door in the middle of the night. It's locked, but he has the key. He's quick to shimmy his way inside, a happy little sigh escaping him when he huddles underneath the covers and your scent invades his nose. A stuttered breath leaves him as he gropes his stiff cock underneath his shorts, burying his nose into your pillow and breathing in deep until his lungs are full of you and his brain is buzzing nicely.

He tries to get himself off like that, doesn't take him much to stroke himself to full mast but even surrounded by your scent he can't cum. It's like there's a blockage at the base of his cock that's not letting anything put pre-cum out while he humps his fist until tears prickle his eyes.

A thought pops into his mind and without even thinking he's fishing his phone from his pocket and dialing your number without thinking of what time of the day is on your end. Holding the phone in one hand and cock in the other he nibbles on his lip as he waits for you to pick up. Hopes you will pick up.

"Johnny?" Your voice is slurred with sleep, giving it a deep base rumble that sends a nice shiver down spine.

"Bonnie..." He breathes out and bites his lip to hold back a groan, cock twitching in reaction from just your voice. "Fuck, ah missed yea."

You hum, still half asleep. "Missed you too Johnny. How have you been?"

"Good." He breathes out, worrying his lip between his teeth as he strokes himself. "Just been mighty bored since you left lil' ol' me alone."

You can hair faint shuffling on the other end, but not his usual chatter. Normally when you call each other Soap will prattle on and on for as he can, but this time he is strangely silent save for his shuddered breath. "Soap... where are you?"

He freezes and sucks in a breath, "In yeh room."

"Johnny." The way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine and he begins stroking himself again, pinching and squeezing the head of his poor cock in the same way you do. "Did you miss me this much?"

"No shite." A small sound escapes him, a mixture of a curse and something more animalistic. "Ah try 'an wank off but every time I try it's-" A familiar hellish feeling in his balls, like something close to pain but not quite, has him cutting his sentence short.

"Poor boy," You coo, "Can't cum without me there, can you? Got you so trained to cum with my cock up your ass you can't do it without something nice and big stretching you out, hmm?"

Your words have embarrassment flooding his system and a small stream of pre leaking from his red angry tip, "'S your fault, fockin' wanker." He curses, burying his head into your pillow while quickly stroking his cock. He'd be embarrassed about what your voice does to him if he wasn't so damn horny. "Fix yer mess."

"Want to cum so badly don't you?" You stall just for a second, your mind birthing a devious idea. "Alright sweetheart, check under the bed for me."

Your request confuses him. "What for?" Still, he's a good boy, he does as he's told no matter how much it hurts to let go of his dick. Even just the sheets rubbing against his poor dick has him whimpering from overstimulation, but he manages to reach beneath your bed and finds a small discrete box.

"Just a gift for you." Your smirk carries over the phone and you can just imagine his expression when when he opens the box.

Inside the box is a dildo. It's firm in his hand as he picks it up, heat pools in his stomach as he recognizes the tip he'd spend hours suckling on, as he traces each realistic vein with his fingers the same way he'd do with his tongue, as he rubs the silicone balls like he'd worship the actual ones; It's molded from your actual dick.

"Oh you sick fuck." He breathes out, but there's not a single hint of disgust in his breathless voice. "Did yea make it so's yea could fock yourself?"

"Funny." Your two share a small chuckle, "If you're not careful I'll make one of yours and lock the real thing away. Not like you use it much."

He never knows if you're serious or kidding but the subtle threat in your tone has his dick throbbing all the same. He manages an indignant "Oi!" before his voice pitters out when he finds your second surprise.

"Thought you'd want something to remember me by." You can't hide your amusement when he finds your underwear. After you'd caught him masturbating with his face shoved in a pair of your underwear he'd nicked, you'd gone out of your way to wear one pair each time you went to the gym and didn't wash it.

"Oh bile yer heid." He huffs but he's already rolling on his side with your underwear pressed close to his nose. He breathes in deep until he can taste the heavy tang of your musk on his tongue, arousal burning hot in his veins.

"I'll take it you like it." You chuckle, "Go on sweetheart, you know what to do."

"Aye." He shuffles until shimmy his shorts off, having not even bothered with wearing boxers. He shifts so his knees are close to his chest, the phone pressed between his ear and the pillow so he can use both hands. "C'mon, keep yappin'. Need tah hear yea." He feels so high-strung begging like this, but it just makes heat burn hotter in his cock when he brings the silicone dildo to his puckered hole that's already wet from when he'd tried to finger himself to an orgasm.

"Oh, sweetheart," With your voice ringing in his ear and your scent in his nose and the weight of your sheets over his half naked body he almost feels like you're right there. If he closes his eyes he imagine it's your cock poke against his hole and your body swallowing his. "Let me guess, you're already wet huh?"

"Know me so well." He breathes out and slowly pushes the dildo against his hole until the head finally slips past the ring of muscle. He's rougher than you'd be but his body is so desperate to feel you that the cock slips in easily, his walls clenching greedily around every familiar vein.

You croon praises in his ear as he sets a deep and fast pace, biting your underwear between his teeth to muffle his pathetic mewls while pounding his hole. But it's not enough, even with every single one of his senses full of you it's not enough. His arm's starting to cramp the longer he fucks himself, twisting and angling the dildo in a desperate attempt to catch his prostate, his hips twitching back to when he bottoms out so he can feel the fake balls slap against his own.

"Shit- It's not enough, fock, please." He shifts his head just enough to beg, huffing in your scent.

"What's wrong Soap, can't fuck yourself like I can?" He groans at your words, biting the wet fabric of your underwear again when he finally manages to graze his prostate. His cock's leaking like a faucet, easing the glide of his fingers when he grabs it to stroke himself until he's whining from the stimulation coming from both ends.

His balls ache and fire burns in his stomach every time he bottoms out, his thighs shaking with the need to cum. "Nae, you fock me so good-" He pants, pleas both in English and Gaelic falling from his lips until you can barely understand anything aside from pure need.

"Go on Johnny, you can cum."

Your permission is all it takes for him to tip over the edge, hole spasming around the dildo and cum spurting like a firehose from his cock and his sight going white. Weeks upon weeks of unresolved tension all escaping him as waves of euphoria pulse through him, leaving him shaking from his orgasm.

"There you go, good boy." Your voice brings him back from the peaks of heaven, his breathing heavy and uncoordinated. "How do you feel?"

"Fockin' perfect." He slurs and has just enough strength to slip the fake cock from his hole and toss it somewhere on the floor. "Felt like ah was ready ta blow." A loud yawn leaves him and his eyes feel heavy when he hears your voice again.

"Get some sleep Johnny, I'll be back by the time you wake up."

"I'll hold yea to it." A dumb little smile tugs on his lips and he nuzzles his head into your pillow, drifting off to sleep.

[missmoonfrost]

McGonagall's no-sleeping policy - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic - November 20: Transfiguration Classroom - Words: 607

“You need to eat,” Sirius growls through gritted teeth.

“I am eating”, Remus snaps back, stirring his scrambled eggs around on his plate with one hand and leaning his head heavily in the other.

“If you are too tired to eat you should have stayed in bed.”

“I said, I am eating!”

Sirius forces himself to take a deep breath. He doesn’t want to fight with Remus. Especially not the day after a moon night. But the wanker is being impossible.

They sit in stubborn silence until they have to leave for class. Remus may have put a few bites in his mouth, but his plate can still be considered full when he pulls himself up to standing with a lot more grunting and hissing than Sirius thinks is acceptable for someone set on taking on a full school day.

They take their seats in the Transfigurations classroom, Sirius and James on either side of Remus.

There are a few minutes before class starts and Remus lays his head down on the table in front of him and closes his eyes.

“I don’t know how Madam Pomfrey let you out”, Sirius grumbles.

“I’m fine.” Remus mumbles without opening his eyes. “Besides, there are exams coming up soon.”

When Professor McGonagall walks in, Remus immediately sits up straight. Sirius doesn’t miss the surprised and slightly disapproving glance she shoots their way, though. Surely, she too thinks he should be in bed.

Todays lesson is fur, scales and feathers. Before Professor McGonagall has got the snake out, the she intends to transform into a swan, they hear Remus stomach rumble.

James sticks him a piece of toast he apparently brought from breakfast. Sirius wishes he had thought of that.

“No,” Remus whispers, “you know McGonagall has a strict no-eating policy.”

James rolls his eyes. Remus' stomach rumbles again. He sighs and accepts the toast. As he takes a small bite McGonagall turns towards them and they all freeze. With a minuscule press of the lips, she pointedly looks the other away and continues her lecture.

Sirius has seldom been so thankful to a teacher. He should be thankful to James too, he supposes, who thought of bringing not only the toast but apparently a boiled egg and two slices of bacon too. He is thankful. It’s just that Remus would have never accepted it from Sirius that stings. Why can’t Remus see how much he cares?

Remus as discreetly as he can licks the crumbs off his fingers and wipes his mouth. Sirius tries to pay attention to how the wand movements can affect the thickness of the fur and not think about how much he and Remus have argued lately. If it’s not Remus being absurd in his refusal to accept help it is him insisting Sirius do something boringly wise and sensible. As Sirius watches the snake turn white and sprout a beautiful plumage he gets hit by a clichéd sudden realisation. Those arguments can just as easily be called Sirius refusing help and Sirius wanting Remus to do something he knew is sensible but still for some reason doesn’t want to. Thinking about it that way, Remus seems to care a great deal, after all.

A sudden thud on Sirius' shoulder jolts him. Remus' head. He smiles as he sees Remus' face relaxed in sleep and carefully brings an arm around his back to hold him steady. He bets McGonagall would even allow sleeping in her classroom on this one occasion. If not, Sirius is fully prepared to use whatever charm or threats or bargains he can to not have to wake him up just yet.

[nfr-girly]

Come back to me ~ Ted lasso x reader Part 1

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎ ⋆

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆

Summary: 5 years ago you and Ted confessed your feelings for each-other before he left for Kansas knowing you and him would never be able to be together, what happens when he suddenly comes back to coach Richmond again?

————————————————————————

“Right so when is the new coach coming to meet you?”

After 5 years of Roy coaching AFC Richmond, he had decided to pack it in. When everyone first heard about the news, the whole of Richmond went mental. Every newspaper, every pub, every household was raving on about it. Everyone well respected Roy’s commitment to the team, so to see him back away from the role shook the entire town.

Seeing as it had been 5 years since Ted left, no one expected he would ever come back, not everyone liked him but they sure as hell respected him. It had been hard on the team after he left, you can remember them talking about Ted after he left and letting themselves get ‘all sappy’, to put it into their words.

It had been specifically hard on you, though. The night before he left you ran to his house to let him know you were in love with him. You knew either way you two couldn’t be together, whether he felt the same way or not.

But he did. He had to go and make it harder by telling you he was in love with you too.

You were hoping for a casual heartbreak, you’d confess your feelings and he’d tell you he only saw you as a friend, you’d be okay with it because you’d never see him again. But that wasn’t the case.

*the night you told him*

Your hands were shaking as you approached his door. You had already said your goodbye earlier even though you knew it wasn’t the last.

You already prepared yourself for the heartbreak that was to come. He’ll probably say I’m too young for him, that him and I would never work. Or that he was still in love with Michelle.

You shake off your thoughts and ring the bell. Shit

Footsteps can be heard from the other side, a quick “one moment!!” shouted out

You were tempted to run away, to leave him confused at the door as you leave behind the man you fell so deeply in love with.

Before you could even make a decision the door opened, and there he stood.

“Oh hey y/n!! What are you doing here?” He stood there, apron on, messy hair.

“Hi. Could I talk to you?” Your tone was serious, serious enough Teds smile dropped slightly

“Yeah-yeah of course come on in” he shuts the door and leads you to the kitchen

“I’ve just been making some biscuits. Give em’ to the boss tomorrow. What did you wanna talk to me bout?”

You stare at Teds eyes, taking in the sight of him while you can before he leaves you.

“Y/n? You okay?” Teds smile has dropped completely now, all he feels now is worry

“I need to tell you something, and I know im the biggest dickhead in the world for telling you this the night before you leave but if I don’t say it now I’ll never get to.” You pause to look at Ted, his eyebrows showing worry as he nods, allowing you to carry on.

“I’m like, so so in love with you. And I can’t help it. I know that I’m only the marketing director, while you’re the coach. Plus we’re almost 20 years apart in age, I know that. But you can’t blame me because from the moment you came here, even while everyone thought you were a wanker, your entire personality drew me in. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way for you but if I am then so be it. I know that by tomorrow you’ll be gone, and it’ll most likely be the case that we won’t see eachother again, but you need to know how I feel otherwise it’ll stick with me forever. I’m not saying you have to feel the same way, and if you want I’ll leave right now. But you-.. you just had to know.”

You look at teds face. You can’t read him at all. He’s looking at you like some sort of statue, just frozen in time. You slowly move towards your coat, ready to go when you see him move.

He blinks and looks you up and down, his breathing staggered as he scrunches his eyes shut and wipes them. It looks like he’s crying?

Your face drops, you put your coat down and move towards him

“Ted? Are you okay?” You worry now. Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything

He looks up from the floor to look at you. His eyes are now as red as they can be, he sniffles his nose every five seconds as he struggles to find his words.

“I really, really wish you hadn’t told me that” you stay there, still, unsure what to say

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to make you cry I only wanted you to know how i felt. If you feel guilty you don’t need to I understand! We can still be friends-“

“No. Y/n you don’t get it”

You stood still, waiting for him to continue

“I wish you hadn’t told me cause now I gotta leave here knowing you love me back” teds words take a minute to set in

“Wait- what do you mean ‘back’” you knew what he meant, you just needed him to say it

“I mean- I mean that I love you too, like in all the ways someone could love a person, I love you. And I hate it. Cause now I gotta walk away still madly in love with you.”

Ted stops, you both stare at eachother, not sure what the say next, that is until Ted breaks the ice

“But what the hell you think I can say now? I can’t stay here you know that. I’ve got Henry I can’t leave my boy-“

“Ted. Ted I know. I’m not asking you to stay, at all. Henry needs you. But if I never said anything it would drive me crazy”

Ted looks down at the ground, tears in his eyes now cause of how unfair the whole situation is

“I know. But no matter how I feel, or what I say I still gotta go back to Kansas”

You nod. You can feel tears about to escape but you hold them in

“Listen, I know that you and me wouldn’t be able to make it work, with me being over there and us being busy as hell all the time. But that don’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you. Cause I want that life with you. I want to you to be the first thing I wake up to in the mornin’, last thing I see when I go to sleep. I want you with me, all the time.”

You look up at him, unsure of what to say

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be back, i can’t make that promise. But I need you to know if I ever decided to come back, I’d be the first one at your door. Even if 20 years had passed, even if you’re married and have kids I’d be here. Cause I ain’t letting you go so easy”

You nod, tears now escaping your eyes

“Hey hey… baby don’t cry” he steps towards you and wipes them

“I’m okay, I just thought it’d hurt less than this you know?” You laugh as he does too. The whole situation sucks, you both know it.

“I should get going then. I dont know if I’ll ever leave if not now” you say

You two back away from eachother as you wipe your eyes “yeah uh- yeah let me walk you to the door” Ted clears his throat as you two slowly walk next to eachother. You try to look around his apartment, memorising everything for the last time.

He opens the door and you two come out the apartment. You turn around to look at him to see he’s already looking at you.

“So.. this is it then”

“Yeah.”

Before you can regret it you practically jump into his arms, your arms around his neck as you hold him as tight as you can. He immediately reacts back by putting his arms around your waist and hiding his face in your neck

“I’m gonna miss you so much Ted, you know that right?”

“I know darlin’, I’m gonna miss you too. So much”

You two stay like that for what seemed like an hour, scared to let the other one go

Finally, you pull apart. You can see teds eyes now, you know he’s going to cry, you could say the same for yourself

“Make Richmond proud okay? And make me proud.” Ted says

“I will. Ted, don’t be a stranger, okay? And say hello to Henry for me too” I smile

“I will.”

You two give eachother a quick hug before you go out his gate

You turn around and give him a wave, he gives one back, before you turn around and walk away. The tears all come out now, your vision completely blurred by the uncontrollable amount that’s coming out. You don’t care if anyone sees you, you just want to get home.

Ted keeps on looking at you until you’re out of vision, which he then goes back into his apartment, no smile on his face anymore, no emotion whatsoever expect pure misery. He was supposed to be excited, he was finally gonna be home with his boy. But the entire night all he could think about was you

God, he loved you so much. But he didn’t think you loved him back. He had made peace with that and accepted that his love was unrequited. That is until you had to show up at his door and make the whole situation 10x harder.

He couldn’t blame you though. Never ever could he blame you for anything. He was mad. Mad at the whole thing. Why did Michelle have to go ask him for a divorce, why’d he have to go and fall in love with the marketing director of the club, why the hell did he even come to England in the first place. Part of him wishes he never took the job, because having to leave you wouldn’t be something he could handle. Ever

He tidied up the kitchen. Made sure the house was clean and his bags were packed. He took his time going to bed, he didn’t want to rush himself cause he was one step away from completely breaking down

finally he got into bed, wrapped all his blankets around himself. Then he let himself hurt, he let himself cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

*back to present*

“Well the new coach will be coming by 3, so you’ll be gone by then, but I’m sure you’ll catch him tomorrow” Rebecca hands you your tea before settling on the couch next to keeley

“so you don’t know who it is?” You ask

“Only Higgins and Roy know, he won’t tell me owt though” Keely responds

You nod as you sip your tea. You start to go through who you think the new coach could be in your head, you think of Ted for a moment before brushing your thought away.

“Well Higgins say he’s very good at coaching so I do hope we’ve got a good one”

You three keep on talking for the next half hour

*time skip to the evening*

You’re in your apartment cooking dinner, when keeley sends you a quick text

Keels 🎀

just met the new coach, you’re gonna love him

You

What’s his name!!

Keels 🎀

Afraid I can’t say babes, but trust me, you’re gonna LOVE him

You smile at keeleys antics. You’re nervous about meeting this new coach. You know hes going to be great, but at the end of the day you just want Ted back.

You finish up your dinner and clean a bit around the place, that’s when you hear the doorbell ring. It’s 10pm, who’s up at this time?

You go up to the door and open it, expecting either a late delivery, or maybe someone from work. What you don’t expect, is the man who left you 5 years ago, still smitten.

“Ted?”

“Hey sweetheart”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺

pt 2

[amongemeraldclouds]

misery loves company

An evening of moping at the garden is interrupted by a drunken Enzo Berkshire.

Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader

Content: angst, comfort, some fluff

A/N: This was supposed to be chapter one for the Enzo series I will never continue. Please read at your own risk, it's open-ended and will not have more parts.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist | 1.4k words

You swiped your tear, the stars unblurring, shining brightly once again. You inhaled the smell of roses as the evening breeze caressed your hair. Crickets chirped around you while your thoughts ran through the events of the last few months.

You could go over each memory, turning every stone, tracing details with a red string that, if you connected just so, you could have sworn it would form a pattern. Some way to untangle the mess of emotions that ran across every direction, taking you everywhere and nowhere. If only it were that simple.

A sudden rustling of leaves brought you back to the present moment, irritation rising to the surface. You turned around, ready to bite the head off which wanker dared to interrupt your midnight musings when you saw his face. Lorenzo Berkshire.

The boy with an easy smile had his eyebrows bunched up together, the corners of his lips drawn down. You didn't really know him all that well, but even you could tell his frown simply didn't belong. The closer he got, the more you could smell the alcohol.

"Midnight walk, Berkshire?" You asked by way of greeting, "not much to see by this bench."

He paused when he saw you, his frown replaced by a sheepish grin. "Had enough of a walk, ground started tilting," he admitted. "Didn't realize this bench came with a pretty girl."

"Don't blame the ground for your inebriation. Guess this night comes with a drunken boy," you replied, motioning for him to sit beside you.

"Not gonna call me a pretty boy? Perhaps you prefer handsome? Gorgeous?"

He's Lorenzo Berkshire alright, the grief etched on his face now replaced by one of his charming smiles. "Well you're more drunk than gorgeous right now."

"Oh you're breaking my heart here," he placed his hands over his heart as if you had just shot him, then began dangerously tilting to one side. You leapt forward, grabbing his hand and was caught off guard by his weight, very nearly joining his skull-crashing fate.

At the very last second, your feet found purchase on the ground, yanking yourselves up. The sudden force sent you slamming down on the bench.

Your heart lept as you braced yourself for the fall, only to land with a soft thud. You peered an eye open, trying to make sense of the situation when you found yourself looking into Enzo's eyes. They reflected the same mixture of surprise and amusement as yours.

You could feel his breath on your face and it sent gooseflesh rippling across your skin. Just one subtle shift would have your lips colliding, a stranger's stolen kiss.

Sobriety electrified Enzo's nerves, bringing his senses back up to full speed as he realized how good you fit against him. How warm. He inched closer, a kiss could end his long and dreary night. His gut, however had other plans, contorting his face just as he pushed you away to save you from his stomach contents that rose up and spilled onto the floor.

You sat back the opposite end of the bench, the sour pungent aroma tainting the once-rosy air. You produced a handkerchief from your pocket, originally meant for tears, now gifted to the drunk boy and his sick.

He sat for a moment, catching his breath as he wiped his mouth. It tasted just as foul as he felt and suddenly the storm within him was back. He needed more alcohol, more distractions, more of anything that would drown these feelings that threatened to swallow him whole.

You plucked a rose beside you and transformed it to a cup then cast a charm to fill it with water. You handed it to him wordlessly, which he immediately gulped down.

"Sure, fine. Come join me on the bench," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "I hate to say I told you so..." you trailed off.

"I'm more drunk than gorgeous," he echoed your words from earlier.

You spoke up before he had a moment to mope, "so what is it? Daddy cut off your allowance?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. Just like that, you were on a little guessing game.

"Had a row with your friends?"

"I'd look worse if that were the case and then we'd drink together," he smiled, recalling fond memories.

"What are the odds then that it's over a girl?" you say jokingly, he never had troubles getting them so you're preparing your next guess when he suddenly pauses.

"Oh, you got me there," he said, a self deprecating smile on his face.

You looked at him seriously then and studied his face. "But you -" you began.

"Have a certain reputation," he spoke up, "and it's not entirely wrong, except I met someone whom I thought I wanted something more with."

"And what did she want?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"The problem is sometimes your reputation can overshadow you. She wanted the prestige that came with it," he rolled his eyes. "And I'm not going to act like I'm innocent here. I didn't know the ways you get girls are not the same ways that will keep them."

You frowned at his statement. "You talk about strategy as if this is a game, which it's not."

He raised his hands in defense, "see I didn't know that, I still don't know what it is and isn't. I just don't like how it feels. I don't do feelings."

"No," you agreed with him, "you just drink them away."

He scoffed, "oh spare me the lecture."

It was your turn to raise your hands. "Believe me, Berkshire. I'm the last one who has any credibility talking about feelings or relationships. I was just sulking over my breakup before I was so rudely interrupted."

"What was that saying? Misery loves company?" He raised his eyebrow.

You shrugged, "I just wish it were easy to just get over the whole thing, you know? No drinking, no midnight moping. Just," you gestured, hand slicing forward through the air, "moving forward."

"How about this?" He asked, his mind sharper after having expelled some of the substance that was clouding his head. "Why don't we do activities together to help us move on?"

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"Oh I don't mean anything untoward. Just anti-dates, two people who move on together. Not exactly a rebound, more like mates keeping each other accountable for our happiness. No moping, okay maybe sometimes talking helps, but we also do activities. Scream on top of hills, break things for the heck of it, have fun."

"Don't you have your friends for that?" You asked, not sure why he was asking you specifically.

"They don't understand the way you do, you know?"

You saw it then, a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored your own. When you were around your friends, you always felt a need to keep up appearances. They'd tell you your ex is not worth crying over as if you could be okay in a snap of a finger.

In reality, the grief came in waves. Sometimes it's small ripples that reflect the sunlight, where you almost feel you've reached the shore after being away at sea for too long. On other days, it's high tide where just one wave is enough to swallow you whole. And no weather forecast could ever prepare you.

"Of course," you nodded. "It's not as easy as others assume it would be. Not unless you've experienced it too."

"Exactly," he stood up and reached out his hand, "so what do you say, mate?"

You reached out and shook his hand. "Okay, mate."

He gave you a small smile, almost as if he was shy. After all, he did spill his guts in more ways than one. "I've intruded on your night enough, we can plan the details over breakfast tomorrow. Can I walk you back to your dorm?"

"Ah the drunk boy has manners, there is hope for you after all," you stood up and followed him back to indoors. "And yes, breakfast works."

"Maybe then I'll be more gorgeous than drunk," he quips.

"I'll be the judge of that."

It was an odd turn of events, but perhaps it was exactly what you needed. Not a drunken boy's barf, that you could have done without, but a new friend for a new beginning you embarked on. Oh the possibilities.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Never have I ever faked it with a footballer - Roy Kent x reader

A list of things you did just before your frontal lobe fully developed: graduated and managed to land yourself a part-time job in your favorite bookstore. A list of things you didn't manage to do just before your frontal lobe fully developed: have sex. Those were the thoughts going through your head the week before your 25th birthday. If this was a cheesy romance novel, you would meet the man of your dreams soon and you'd ride into the sunset. Maybe someone who was just as unexperienced as you? Or a very busy businessperson married to their job, whose heart you melt. Perhaps a customer? You look at the the man across from you on the till. His mustache and choice in literature are a bit clashing. But the ring on his finger tells you everything you need to know. He's married and definitely too old for you. He's probably buying the Wrinkle in time for his kid or something. You make a joke that he's bought every sports book you have in stock, and he quips back that there's still something called "Aussie Grit" and "How you build a car" on the shelves.

You agreed with him, not too keen on going into an unskippable dialog that would scare off your customer. You don't work on commission, but you for sure don't want to re-shelf all of the sports books he's about to purchase. You wish him a nice day and think nothing of it. Not like he would play a significant role in your life, anyway.

A couple of days pass, and the checkout till is quieter than usual. You can spot a few regulars in between the shelves and get their books. Then your view is blocked by an angry looking man.

"I'd like to return this." He says, holding a copy of the "wrinkle of time" like it's an offensive nude magazine.

"Sorry, we cannot make returns or exchanges without the receipt. " You reply, your customer service voice light and breezy. The guy looks less than pleased.

"Well the wanker that gifted it to me wasn't generous enough to include it. Could you just get it off my hands, please." He goes on.

"I'll put it in the bargain bin, but it has to be our little secret, okay? You're more than welcome to look through it, too. Don't want you to leave with such a bitter taste from our little establishment." You try to be diplomatic.

Somehow things quickly turn to shit. Someone makes a connection that it's Roy Kent looking through the paperbacks that don't sell. At the exact same time that a large bridal gang walk in. The women, decorated with saches and penis necklaces, must posses echolocation. That's the only explanation for them flocking immediately around you two, begging for the footballer to sign them in increasingly intimate places.

You want to move, to escape, but they have flocked from every side, trapping you. Then Roy makes it worse. He morphs into every protagonist of the cheesy romance novels you read and says

"Everyone, back off. You're gonna end up stomping my girlfriend." The women coo and awww, as if you're a puppy he rescued. You're still unsure who he is and why he warrants such a fuss. You don't figure it out even when he presses his lips to yours, telling the women that this is his new "good luck ritual for practice.". You have to keep living with the fact that amongst the lucky few you had kissed was now a celebrity. You held off from Googling him until you got home, getting sucked into a string of videos about his career and gossip rags. After stumbling on an article about his penis, you call it an evening. At least you now get the hype.

You think that it's done and dusted, that you'll never see Roy Kent again. You're about 5 minutes from closing, deep in the back arranging the shelves after someone had a buying spree (today felt like Christmas, with the amount of people walking in, trying to catch a glimpse of you and buying something to ease their guilt of simply walking in to gawk at you). Someone even showed you a reddit post, where they'd doxxed your store. You didn't look forward to the Roy fangirls that would think your relationship was real and ask you about your sex life. But you did anticipate the moment where you'd tell them that it's eerily similar to a romance book in stock and watch them flock to get it. Was it unethical to suggest that Roy Kent made you suck cotton candy off a butt plug and then used it on you? Yes. Was the price of eggs so high that it wasn't your concern? Also yes. And who knows what he was actually doing in the bedroom? He was a professional footballer since his teens, God know what or who he hasn't tried. Just about when you began to entertain that scenario in your brain, the doorbell chimed, a potential customer walking.

"Hello, sorry we're closing in five minutes, so I'll have to urge you to be quick or come back tomorrow." You say, not looking up from the Lauren Asher trilogy you're holding.

"Actually, I was hoping to get rid of some books." A husky male voice said and you practically sped-walked to see. And there he was, in all his glory, leather jacket over a black shirt, Roy fucking Kent. Holding a good chunk of a dozen of his autobiography books.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, not sure if this was real. Maybe you had slipped and hit your head on a shelf?

"Call it community service. Clear a table for these will you?" He says, and pulls out a pen out of his pocket. You know it costs as much as the entire game of thrones set, so you keep looking at him as you pile up the Tiktok books and place them by your register. He's signing his own books, and placing them on the table like a pro.

"You don't have to do this." You reason, not really sure of his modus operandi.

"Look, yesterday I really had practice after coming here. And it was the best I've played in years. So I was wondering if you'd kiss me again. Just to see if that was the cataclysm." Roy was obviously used to adoring fans, or women that were enamored with him. Either that or the disalussion of dating too many models and actresses, too many stay at home girlfriends that wanted fame or money. Which, kudos to them. But for you, fucking a footballer wasn't in your 10 year plan. So you began acting like a 10 year old. You started shouting at him, calling him names for assuming you're easy.

"Just because you're famous, very easy on the eyes and apparently have a magic dick, doesn't mean that you can walk in here and demand to kiss me. Especially after trying to bribe me with books. You're insufferable."

He backs off when you try and hurl pens and card packs at him, failing miserably. He cautiously approaches you, like you're a stray cat. A rubber bounces off his jawline and you're both leaning down to pick it up.

"I wasn't trying to get lucky. Wanted to come here, ask you out on a date. Sorry I didn't phrase it in the best way. When you're surrounded by sweaty, brutish, young men all day, you're not the best at indirect communication. As for the books, I just wanted you to get ahead, make some money off of this." He explains.

"Sorry, I assumed the worst out of you based on nothing. You were just as impacted by this whole thing as me, if not more. So it makes sense for you to wanna come back and initiate something. Truce?" You ask and extend your hand over for him to shake. His touch is firm, yet feather-like. You're like a woman possessed, leaning into him, whispering, "Is this okay?" millimeters shy of his lips. Roy kisses you, needy and desperate. You can feel his stubble on your cheek, your lips are almost tingling for more.

Was it possible for a man to dickmatize you without even showing you his cock? is what you were wondering when Roy presses his body into yours, both ot you on the floor. You're absolutely feral, asking him for more. Moaning in his ear when he kisses your neck. Begging him to touch you, wrapping your legs around him and rubbing yourself against him, both of you groaning at the contact.

"Sugar, look as much as I'd look forward to just taking you right here and now, and giving both of us the most gnarly case of carpet burn since the 80s, let's pause okay. Save it for an actual date?" Roy says, slightly panting. You made a professional footballer go out of breath.

"Okay, but just because you have to test out your hypothesis. Report to me with findings, okay Mr. Kent?" You reply, trying to mask your disappointment. Roy was doing what not one of your partners had managed before - make you so horny that it was borderline reckless. And it didn't help that he was a gentleman. One that helped you up and kissed your cheek goodbye. One that promised to be here again tomorrow.

You did your closing at a snail's pace. Seriously, every time you had a spare minute, your thoughts drifted off to a certain professional footballer and your impending date. What were you going to wear? Where would he take you? Would you kiss again? Would it feel as good? The last two thoughts turned into scenarios, which you turned into your head that night. Vibrator pressed against your clit, head buried in the pillow, saying please.

At least the orgasm ensured you had the best sleep of your life. You couldn't wait for the day to end. And after selling out the Roy biographies like hot cakes, it wasn't easy to keep your thoughts away from him.

And he doesn't make it any easier when he walks in, takeaway containers in one hand, and an expensive looking bottle of wine in the other.

"Well Enchanté to you too." You say, wondering why he's brought an impromptu picnic. As if he can read your mind, he goes

"Restaurants when you're famous can get overwhelming. Either our meal would be interrupted by fans, or I'd have to take you to a place where they sell miniscule portion for insane prices. And the latter isn't my vibe, nor is the first. So let's dig in here." Roy clears up a space like a pro, setting up everything. He's got good taste, you practically moan at the food. You get to know each other, even playing rounds of trivia against one another. He's surprisingly good at distinguishing Shakespeare from Taylor Swift and you're surprisingly hilarious at making up football terms. Deeming that VAR stands for Very Accurate Reaction. After just two glasses, the wine is abandoned. Roy tells you about the breakthroughs he's making with coach Lasso. You teasingly give him a peck so he can reap more good luck. You kiss and kiss and kiss until you think that you're going to explode. That's when you say the magic words, "Roy, take me home." And he does.

He doesn't mind visiting people, you think. His shoes are in the corridor, jacket on the hook. Lips on yours, hands trailing down.

"Can I touch your perfect fucking tits?" He asks and as soon as you say yes, his hands are on you. Grabby, but gentle. He kisses down your chest, scraping his beard against you, making it more intense. His tongue is on you and he doesn't miss how sensitive you are. How you arch for his touch, how you moan like a man hasn't made you feel this good. Maybe it's been while? That's why you're chanting his name like a prayer, rutting against him. If you're in his lap, may as well ride him, he wants to say. You're certainly feeling how you're affecting him. He respected pillow princesses, he was fine with you being a starfish, sure he'd do all the work. But now? You were just plain giving him blue balls.

He places a hand on your thigh.

"Darling, I'm all for getting what's yours, but wanna help me out here?" He asks, motioning to the tent in his jeans. Roy sees you deflate, turn red and try to scamper off him. He asks what's wrong and almost books a hearing test when you mumble something under your nose. He needs you to repeat yourself.

"I've never had sex, okay. I'm a virgin." You admit, feeling very exposed. But Roy doesn't laugh or leave or say ew. He doesn't look like he broke a precious teapot. He just asks what you want to do next. And you surprise both of you by saying, "I wanna change that tonight."

Roy kisses you again, gentler, but with urgency. Slowly peels off your clothes, not missing a chance to tell you how beautiful you look, how he can't wait to touch you. He strips of his shirt and pants, leaving you to take off his boxers. You marvel at his cock and he's ready to screw everything and have you when you say "This is my first time seeing one. Are they always so big?". He guides your hand in touching him, his fist over yours, stroking. He thrusts his hips up, just to show you you make him feel good. He swears he's died and gone up to heaven when you sink lower on the bed and ask to blow him. Your tongue is so eager, you're lapping and sucking and paying attention to the head just like he told you. For a second he regresses to his younger self and thinks "Oh, how fun will it be to train her to be a slut for me, to teach her how to make a men feel good and just ruin her for the rest."

He needs more, because if your mouth is that soft and warm, he can't imagine how nice your cunt will feel. He makes you pull away, doesn't miss how you stare at the string of drool between your lips and his cock. Saving that one to the fucking spank bank. Roy fishes out a condom from his wallet, glad he assumed the best of himself and you. He rolls it on his length, pinching the tip. Roy knows you're wet enough. He feels how soaked you are. But he wants to prep you, to feel your cunt clench around his fingers first. He rubbs your clit first, sliding one finger inside of you slowly. Then as you're still adjusting, he adds a second. He's fast, laser focused on making you cum or just about. He stops as you're nearing your peak and asks "Can I? Are you ready?" You nod, uttering a quiet yes, so he lines his cock against you. He taps it against your clit once, so you feel his sheer length. Roy nudges it between your pussy lips and slowly moves.

"You're so fucking tight. And doing so good for me. Just breathe and take me in, that's right." He slides his hand in between the two of you, playing with your clit. That distracts you from the slight discomfort and you're squeezing him even more.

"Feels good?" He asks and all you can do is nod and moan for more. He pulls out slightly and thrusts back in. When he leans down and kisses your nipples, you're done for. You're cumming against him, and it feels so good, so much more intense than an orgasm from your own fingers. When he cums, thrusts fast and precise against your overstimulated cunt, you know all the smutty romance you had ever read was not exaggerated.

Roy Kent was almost better at aftercare than he was at fucking you. He carried you to the couch, as he popped the sheets in the washing machine (on cold and with the slightest bit of Vanish sprayed on a particular spot.). He made you drink copious amounts of water and played with your hair, telling you how good you were for him.

"You know if kissing me gives you good luck in practice, I think with this, you're gonna be winning the whole league." You say, and he laughs. Long gone is the grumpy older man who was complaining about not being able to return a wrinkle of time.

[emthephantom]

☆New Things- Nathan Young☆

Nathan Young x Female!Reader Your Powers are revealed and Nathan helps you Warnings: Brief mentions of sex- No Smut Words: 1250 A/N: Hellooo ghosties, been watching Misfits and thought I'd start writing for Nathan. I hope you enjoy :)

'I just don't get it, we were there and we haven't got any powers, it's not fair.' you grumbled, scrubbing the graffiti harder.

It had been a couple of weeks since the storm and everyone but you and Nathan had powers. It was depressing. Powers or not, you grew close to the gang, becoming good friends with them.

'I'm telling you Y/N, we need to have a quick shag and we'll get some.' the Irish accent chimed, his eyes mischievously gleaming. You were used to Nathan's antics; the constant banter gave you something to look forward to in the mornings, no matter how vulgar.

'Oh shut up, you wanker.' you reply, waving your hand to dismiss him. You begin to return to the task at hand when you hear a crash.

Nathan lays on the floor, not moving a muscle—a trickle of blood leaks from his forehead. Your eyes widen at the boy's state. You drop the brush on the concrete as worry consumes you. Your feet rushed towards Nathan's body. You kneel beside him, delicately placing a hand on his cheek. 'I don't understand what happened,' you begin, 'Did I do something?' you turn to the rest of the group, your eyes watering. Shock filled them while they attempted to send you a look of sympathy, not knowing how else to respond.

You focus your attention back on Nathan. Using your orange jumpsuit, you wipe the blood off his forehead. You continue cradling him, hoping he'll be okay.

'Guess that shag's off the table.' he quietly chuckled.

You breathed a sigh of relief, followed by a stream of apologies. Nathan's cold hand rests on yours, stopping your rambling. His piercing green eyes look into yours, 'Y/N, I'm fine, just help me up.' he smiles.

You smile back at him, scrambling to your feet to help him up. When you join the others, Kelly shoots you a look. She then gestures to your hand- still holding Nathan's. You quickly pull away, feeling your face flush. The probation worker prevents an awkward conversation from happening and allows you to go home. All of you walked back into the community centre, desperate to get going.

As you're getting changed you feel a tap on your shoulder. You spin around, meeting eyes with a certain curly-haired boy.

'Nathan?' you questioned.

'Wanna go for a drink?' he interrupted.

'I'd love to.'

'I'll meet you outside.' he smiled, shooting you a wink. You hurriedly got changed and said a quick goodbye before meeting Nathan in the car park.

The walk to the pub was quiet but comforting. You couldn't stop looking at him; he looked so handsome. You longed to hold his hand again, touch his face, kiss those lips.

'So how are you dealing with your new power?' he quizzed.

'I don't understand it, how come I sent you flying?'

'We'll help you, you know that.'

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, Nathan Young being supportive?

'Thanks Nathan'

He nods in response, continuing the walk to the pub. You're walking in comfortable silence when you feel Nathan throw his arm around your shoulder. The sudden contact sent a shudder through your body.

After what felt like an eternity, you arrived at the bar, finding a table and getting your drinks. It was awkward at first but soon became like heaven. Drinks kept coming and the laughs were never-ending. You didn't want to leave.

'Shit, I should be getting home.' you said

'Do you want me to walk you home?'

'I'd like that.'

You finished the last of your drink and started heading out. The cold night air hit your skin, making you shiver. Nathan walked alongside you, taking notice. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. A smile played on your face, you fit so perfectly together, his arm belongs on you. 'It must be a sign' you thought.

You couldn't stop staring at him, thinking about him, wanting him. One question played in the back of your mind, why was he being so nice? His beautiful accent snapped you out of your thoughts, 'Well this is goodbye, for now, no cock reveal just yet.' he joked.

'I'll see you tomorrow.' you smiled sweetly as you entered your home. He sends a grin back and goes on his way. You hover near the door for a while; almost like you're waiting for him to return. Unbeknownst to you, Nathan wanted nothing more than to come back and be in your company.

The next morning arrived and you were sat on the roof, mindlessly kicking a stray bottle. You hear footsteps and feel hands over your eyes. 'Simon is that you?' you tease. Your eyesight returns and the dramatic slap of arms echoes in your ears.

'Really?, of all people you think I'm Simon?'

You turn to look at Nathan, a questioning look on your face- curious as to what he was doing.

'Just thought I'd check up on you' he said, plopping down on a chair across from you. His gaze lands on the bottle you're still fiddling with. His eyes widen and he lunges for the bottle, grasping it before putting it on the wall behind him. He grabs your hands, leading you towards it. You already miss his touch and are tempted to reach out for him.

'Try to break it.'

'What? Nathan, what are you getting at?'

'I'm helping you. Break it.' You sigh and focus on the bottle. Squinting your eyes, you pray something will happen.

Silence...

Nothing.

You huff in annoyance, and your shoulders sag. Nathan places his hands on your hip, the cold feeling of them sinking through the jumpsuit, giving you flashbacks to the night before.

'Try to use your hands, like you did to me.' The reminder of yesterday's events makes a scowl appear on your face. With a sigh, you focus again, your hand in front of you.

Silence...

Crash!

You jump up in excitement, turning to Nathan. He's just as excited for you, his smile stretching to his ears. You throw your hands around him and he sweeps you off your feet, twirling you around. 'You're a good teacher.' you giggle.

'I could teach you other things.' he teases. He puts you down and looks into your Y/E/C eyes. Your hands rest on his shoulders, you're comfortable enough to ask the question that you so desperately need answering.

'Why have you been so nice to me?'

'I saw how much you cared. I might be a right horny bastard most of the time but I feel different with you.'

You both stood there in silence, Nathan gazing at your face. You could tell he was genuinely admiring you, taking you in, like you'd disappear if he looked away. 'So when do you wanna see my cock?'

'Nathan!' you shouted. He let go of you and started running around; hot on his trail you ran after him. Giggles and screams filled the air- a wholesome sound rarely heard at the community centre. Eventually, you caught up to him and he hugged you again, resting his head on top of yours.

'I do like you, seriously.' he whispered.

'I know.'

The other four were watching you from afar, admiring the sweet view.

'You have to admit they are kinda cute.' Alisha spoke.

'You should see what he thinks of her, it's like he doesn't care I can read his thoughts; it's sickening,' Kelly responded, 'But he does like her a lot'

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Chapter 3: Epilogue

{A/N: Here's the link to my masterlist } Link under for ch 3!

Ghost thought that you had to be a desperate bloke that happened strolled in to the hotspot of mafiosos.

‘A muppet!’ As Price would like to put it, but oddly enough, you looked more like a sad and pathetic one than a desperate one.

He well knows the reputation this bakery holds in this city, and you just stumbling along here- cold to the bone and hot to the head- didn’t quite add up to him.

An itch in his brain you were for some reason, even more so now when his boss had called for an immediate meeting back at HQ, even though they had a mission to go out for that night.

He digresses, nodding in agreement to Price before going back into to get Gaz— who was currently negotiating with a worried Nonna and Nonno about your sudden presence at their place.

“Hey,” all three turn their heads to his sudden entrance, “Price says we gotta head back.”

Gaz nods, his gaze hardening in understanding- he caught a snippet of it as he came back down.

“Nonno, Nonna,” he smiles to them in appreciation, “we’ll come back tomorrow for her.”

They nod in understanding.

Nonno then follows up with a- “we shouldn’t be too worried about it, right?”

Ghost quirks a brow, making eye contact with Gaz, as if to gauge that— were you really just a nobody? Or somebody they should be concerned about?

Gaz then shakes his head, “you shouldn’t,” he reassures.

Nonno smiles in appreciation, “then go on your way then boys- we know you got your jobs to do.”

Giving one last goodbye to the two, and reassuring Nonna once again that they would be okay, they finally get to leave and meet up with Price by their car, who was was just leaning on it with a lit cigarette hanging at the side of his mouth.

“That took a while,” Price comments, his eyes not leaving the paper in his hand, to which both took interest in.

“Are we gonna have that meeting before the mission?” Ghost asks, ready to nick pick the hell out of what’s going inside of Price’s head at the moment but pouts internally, seeing him shake his head.

“Mission comes first,” he says assertively, “we’re already short time— and we need to wait for Soap.”

Gaz groans, “ugh, why does he get to be left behind!”

His boss chuckles, “you’re the better driver, Garrick.”

Gaz instantly perks up and Ghost couldn’t help the chuckle as he watches the man quickly run to the driver side and lock into his seat.

“Well, hurry up then— we better get goin’, yeah?”

They both rolled their eyes, doing the same and hopping inside well- making sure to focus up for this meeting with an underground kingpin.

“Be sure to check your six down there,” Price reminds as they near the entrance to the under ground bar and casino in the west-end side of the city— where the growing red light district started to bud and grow.

It was a pain to go here, but this was a hub for information aside from the usual sleaze bags and scum that drowns themselves into greed and lust.

Ghost now knew that this became a 2-in-1 mission, take out the kingpin wanker that’s currently cheating off of 414’s good graces, and to get intel on that…paper.

Once Gaz buzzed in that he locked into the target, he knew this was going to a breeze for them, “like clockwork” as Price would put it.

As if it were a daily occurrence to them, Price and Ghost quickly dispatched the Kingpin’s men one by one, while Gaz instantly knocked out the man who was sitting and drinking with girls in his arms. Those women screamed and instantly ran away, not wanting to be the next person Gaz’ll take out.

Just like that, they had this man tied up in a chair in his office, with Price leading the interrogation.

“So Pierre,” Price starts with an inquisitive grin, “how’s the business comin’ along?”

Pierre glares, thrashing relentlessly against his binds but Price knew he wouldn’t be able to get out, Ghost’s handiwork will never room for any kind of that possibility.

“Fuck off!” Pierre growls, “I said I was gonna pay next week!”

Price tuts, “did I say we agreed on that date?”

“Seems like he’s weaselin’ and havin’ too much fun boss,” Gaz grins from behind the man, hands fidgeting with a butterfly knife.

His boss nods and Gaz takes that as signal to throw the knife right by the man’s temple, barely grazing his ear and the skin near it, then landing onto the wall across from him.

“Whoops,” Gaz giggles, “my hands slipped!”

“You bastard!” Pierre shrieks, “I’m fucking bleeding now!”

“Oh, you’ll be being doing more than bleeding, ya wanker,” Ghost snides, whipping out his own choice method of getting answers from this man.

“I suggest you start behavin’ Pierre,” Price smiles, “or else that tiny scar would be the least of your worries.”

Eventually, they got the man to talk as Price finds his secret bank book with receipts of where all his and their money went.

Though that went well, on the other hand- getting answers on the paper were proven…futile.

Pierre insisted he never saw it and even double downs- unlike before.

Though Price is a the type of man who wastes time for anyone, so he nods to Gaz, and he is all-too-happily ending him with the displayed gun in the man’s office.

“Dispose him,” Price commanded and Gaz pouts, hating the clean-up work but goes on with it anyways.

“He’s lying,” Ghost mutters, “wanker was pissin’ his pants.” He had a knack for these things and he could tell the genuine fear that grew in the man’s eyes. His legs were bouncing more relentlessly, eyes constantly glancing back and worth— all the signs were there.

“Figured,” Price lights a cig and then huffs out a response, “was too quick to reply— too antsy for my taste.”

Ghost observes his boss and brother, that itch coming back in and bugging him even more that he had no choice but to scratch it.

“Can I have a look at it, John?”

Price turned to him, silently debating whether he should let Ghost know now or later.

He pinches his brows yet hands it over to him anyways, Ghost taking this opportunity and snatching it.

He reads the direction paper side first, looking at it oddly before overturning and—

“John what the fuck?”

Price nods, “I know.”

“We have to fucking go now.”

“No,” John glares at Simon, “we don’t.”

“And why the fuck not?!” Simon roars in his face because he knows John wouldn’t fuck them over with something so important, but at the same time was frustrated that he didn’t tell them sooner.

“Told you guys earlier,” John puffs another out, “need everybody to be together.”

“You weren’t kiddin’,” Simon mutters and he thinks about you happening to meet them at the front of the bakery again.

“Was it really from ‘em?”

Simon couldn’t really wrap his head around you and this goddamn piece of paper. It was hard to believe that you would pop out of nowhere, just to send ‘em this sweet nifty reminder of their past.

“Yes,” Price nods, “nabbed it from the purse myself.”

Ghost gives him a look, opening and closing his mouth before ultimately deciding not to say anything and just nod in understanding.

“Got it.”

“All done here~,” Gaz enters back to the room, wiping the sweat of his brow but immediately stops, his easy-going attitude gone with sensing the heavy air that permeated the room.

He sighs and leans by the doorway, “its the paper isn’t it?”

“We’re prioritizing this as number one priority now on the intel team,” Ghost decides, standing and leaving through the door where Gaz was.

“That was quick,” Gaz’s eyes rows jumped to his forehead, “number one?”

He sees him nod and Gaz just hums, looking back to Price who just seemed to accept it then and there as well.

“If that’s rolling,” he claps his hands and juts his thumb out the door, “let’s skiddaddle and hop on it, then?”

They both nod to his proposal and head back to the car.

Ghost was reeling in his emotions in the car ride back up until the meeting with everyone now present. Even with Soap at his side, squeezing his shoulder in comfort— his mind was a mess.

“What the fuck…” Soap drawls, head thrown back and hands weaved through his hair.

Silence hung in the air as everyone digested the information passed on from Price and everyone stares at that simple drawing of a horn.

“It can’t be him, right?” Soap’s elbows were now on the table but his hand were on his face, voice seeped deep into denial.

“Has to be,” Ghost mutters, legs thrown on top of the desk and crossed over each other while his hands laid on top of his lap. “Can’t be anyone else.”

“Unbelievable!” Gaz denies loudly by slamming his hands on the table, “do you think they’d be his lackey?”

“A bait,” Price interjects, “an innocent or passer-by that might just be a little too unlucky.”

“Unlucky?” Ghost scoffs, “there’s no such thing as coincidence boss— you of all people should know that.”

“That’s fucked up,” Soap comments before growling to Ghost, “you saw ‘em— sick and whittled to the bone!”

“The perfect candidate.”

Soap is immediately at his brother’s collar, pulling at it and putting everyone into a panic.

“Soap, Ghost- chill-!” Gaz immediately moves to part them.

“He’s being a fuckin’ wanker!” Soap grits.

“And you’re being a dumbass.” Ghost seethes.

“Everyone down.”

Price voice booms, cold as ice with his eyes steeling hard as he takes in the mess of the room. He waits for everyone to get situated again before talking, now standing before everyone with his hands on hips.

“Ghost.” He called out and he nods in response, “go with our initial plan.”

“Yes, boss.”

Ghost nods whereas Soap protests, though he was immediately silenced by both his superiors.

Back at the bakery, Ghost gets time to thinks to himself as he replays the scene of you and Soap go at it in his mind. With Soap even acting like a gnat with his stupid grin— all because of you.

You.

With the itch finally seizing, his mind is now clearer. Fully deciding how to treat you in the face against his family—

“You’re driving cara to the market district for me.”

Ghost turns to him as if he was even offended at the thought of doing it. With a glare and Nonno giving one of his own, Ghost knew he wouldn’t back down, so he had to look at Price who gave him a smile.

“Nonno asked you to, Ghost.”

He huffs, his chair making a loud enough shriek that makes you jump once as you get to the last step of the stairs, making you almost slip, catch yourself, then breath out a sigh of relief.

“Where to?”

He hears you ask Nonno, and he couldn’t be bothered to hear the rest as he approaches the door.

“You should get going sleepyhead,” Soap advised you, “he ain’t gonna wait for someone like ya’.”

You give him the bird before quickly chasing after the weird brooding man with a mask on.

“Get the fuck in already,” Ghost commanded irritatedly while he stares you crossing your arms in indignation.

“Can’t you move your stuff so I could sit at the front?”

He deadpans at your comment.

“No.” He clips, “To the back.”

He sees you huff and slam the door shut before opening the one behind it, sliding into the seat smoothly then buckling in.

Once he hears the click, he is revving it.

And dear whatever-deity-is-out-there hope that this wouldn’t be your final moments.

He hears you let out a sigh of relief once he cools down and enters the busy streets, letting the traffic be then turning to you for questions.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, “you know anything about gangs or mafias?”

You shook your head no then follow up with a- “why?”

Ghost stays quiet for a moment, stewing in your response.

“The city’s full of people like us,” he decides to explain, “and that’s common knowledge.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “really? Did not know that…”

He hears your mumble and nods all the same.

“But what isn’t,” you feel him break the car suddenly and you slam into the front seat, “is that bakery.”

Your eyes couldn’t tear away from the glare he gave you, it was stilled onto you and you were afraid that even breathing in this man’s capacity would end you for good this time.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper, “I got lost.”

“What a laughable excuse,” he huffs, leaning back on the seat, gaze now directed again at the traffic and you feel free to move now.

‘Now that Medusa’s eyes weren’t trained on me.’

“Well,” you shrugged, “up to you to believe or not but that’s what happened.”

You hear his growl of complaint so you shot him another before he could reply.

“I know you have your issues and I got mine,” you started slowly, “but I got nothing to do with it and frankly— I don’t care.”

You yelped back to your seat when he grabs your collar, pulling you forward and come face to face with him.

You tell that— from the way his nose was flaring, the crease on his forehead growing deep, and the frown that could be seen protruding through his mask- he was pissed.

“You would care if it involved your family.”

With a click of his tongue, he tosses you back and goes back to driving, the silence less palpable than ever.

Ghost can’t believe he lost to his whims, it was supposed to be an interrogation— he fucking stepped over a line he shouldn’t and his ass would be had by Price.

He told himself that he’d treat like an enemy but that seemed to be less likely, the more he learned about you during lunch.

Now, he isn’t confident.

And that makes his stomach churn.

“Then tell me about it.” He hears you speak, and just like that— the clouds parts.

“What do you mean?” He grunts, and looks up at the rear view mirror.

He was quite surprised at the expression you wore- it wasn’t one of resentment or fright, but a compassionate one.

An unfamiliar one, he notes.

“I don’t have family.” You put it bluntly. “So I don’t know how it…feels—“ your hands wave wildly about, “—so tell me about it.”

‘Oh.’ He sucks in his teeth. ‘That’s what you meant.’

It takes him a moment to digest and reply, and frankly, you were quite used to that reaction.

“Well…” you wait patiently for him to continue, “…it makes you feel like you care.”

And you nod, letting him know that you were listening.

“Makes you feel… like they’re a treasure,” he starts tapping on the wheel, “makes you feel… like you got treasure ‘em.”

“Like a pirate and their booty?”

He chuckles at your sudden quip.

“You could put it like that.”

From then on, you both continue throwing questions back and forth- letting you ask about him and the family.

Furthering confirming that you were just a passer-by.

Furthering proving that Price is right- you were a bait.

A quite unfortunate one at that.

Once you both get to the market, you turn to wave him goodbye, Ghost- shocking you- did the same, then pulling up the window and leaving as soon as he came.

Ghost wasn’t confident— but he is sure now.

He feels his stomach settle from lunch, making him sigh in relief.

The day was long and rough, and you finally got what you wanted— a place to yourself (for now) and a job (for now).

Once you got up to the room, you were surprised at how clean and homey it was— quite a stark contrast to the building it was held in.

From the carpet to the drapes, everything matched perfectly to what you would say a, “academia aesthetic with flora.”

Well, more like dead flora.

You digress, brushing that aside for the more important part was a good shower and some nice sleep— until the morning welcomes you again in the form of a knock at the door.

Opening it then gets you a,

“Hey shortstack! Missed me?”

Making you instantly slam the door and trudge back to bed.

A/N: A bit of in between moments during previous chapters with this one focusing on Ghost’s POV this time! Already cooking up the next one✨

Taglist! <3

@astreaaaaaa6 @accidental-obsessionist

[prose-for-hire]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 👻🎃 I hope you're having a spooky time and if you still want any little fic ideas how about uhhh running to Spike's crypt for help on Halloween night but he thinks it's just a trick or treater and is ready to give you a piece of his MIND (maybe he does have candy to throw at people tho) until he realises you're hurt👀👀Spike x female or neutral reader?

if you don't fancy the idea no problem either I hope you have fun writing whatever you choose!!

Happy Halloween, lovely !! 🦇

Warning: mention of drinking

Thank you so much for the request, I love this idea!! 💖

It was Halloween. Nothing bad was supposed to happen on Halloween.

The night had been cruel to you. There was a thick fog that had descended, marring your vision and making an already dark cemetery even harder to navigate.

When you found it you were relieved. You knocked on the door in your weakened state but he heard it clearly.

“I’ve already told you thieving wankers to bugger off before I give you something to bloody shout about-!” He stormed towards the door and wrenched it open.

“Oh. Y/n. Don’t have any candy left, love, but if you wanted some sugar…” he raised an eyebrow but it faltered slightly when he caught a familiar scent.

“Spike, not the time, I’m… I’m hurt” you moved your hand away from your middle showing your hand covered in your own blood.

Spike always flirted with you, he has what you might call a soft spot for you. In short, he was obsessed.

But you were a Scooby and usually, any time he got close to you you were pulled away by your friends. They saw the way he looked at you and they didn’t like it.

You were often happily oblivious. You liked that he was friendly and he was naturally flirty and you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy that too.

He guided you to his sofa and started rattling about grabbing things that might be of some kind of help. You smiled, even through your pain when you saw candy wrappers in the bowl. He had actually been giving out candy to trick or treaters.

“How’d you get in this sorry state, pet?” He asked kneeling before you. He offered you some liquor to help dull the pain. You took it. You were really hurting.

“It’s Halloween so I wanted to do something fun but I sort of stumbled into a nest of vampires”

“And all you got was a nasty scratch?” He said, almost impressed. But the wound was deeper than he would have liked. Not life-threatening, but still.

“My pride hurts a little too” you muttered and his eyes shined in amusement. You inhaled sharply as he cleaned your wound with some sort of antiseptic.

He worked as gently as he could, which was incredibly difficult considering you were very human and annoyingly very breakable. His touch lingered against the exposed skin of your abdomen. His eyes met yours, he looked like he wanted to say something. Something important. But he opted for telling you he was done.

“Thanks, Spike. How’s your Halloween going?”

“Better than yours by all accounts”

“It’s better now I’m here” you let the words tumble out of your mouth before recovering, “and not being eaten by vampires I mean”

“You still might be. Your blood type, it’s the good stuff”

“Do you really not have any candy left?”

“No, the little blighters stole them all” he grumbled for another minute or more. You weren’t sure, you were watching his mouth, those lips, as he spoke.

“It’s nothing, it would have made me feel a little better” you shrugged and he started to grab his duster and shrug it on.

“Need to get some blood”

“You’re… leaving me?” You almost broke his heart. He was prepared to drop everything and tend to you. Stay by your side and never leave. But he has something he needed to do.

“Rest up, pet. I’ll be back” he insisted, switching on his tv for you and throwing a blanket your way before he went.

What you didn’t know, is he had caught the scent of your attackers even through the very alluring smell of your blood.

He went, fought them, dusted them. And then stopped by his local butchers and snatched a handful of candy from some kid in a costume before he returned to you.

He dusted off his jacket and drank his blood without a need for breath. He handed you the bag of candy and you excitedly picked out your favourite ones.

He wanted to sit on the sofa but you needed to lie down to rest your wound. You settled for moving your head up and using his lap as a pillow. His idea, you swear. But it was a very good idea. Probably one of the best he’d ever had.

You were so comfortable in his company (in spirit, you were still in a lot of pain). His hand met yours as you both felt around for candy. Your eyes met his, giggling until it started to hurt your side again. You winced but reached for his face.

“You have a bit of… something. Here” you wiped it away with your thumb. Your finger lingering, you liked the way he moved into your touch. His eyes closing slowly as he savoured the contact.

“Blood and dust” he shrugged after a moment. You frowned and he explained. He had fought and killed all of the vampires that had caused you harm.

You gasped. He had killed for you. You don’t think anyone had done anything so romantic for you before.

That Halloween was the night you realised you loved him.

[thanksbutno98]

Simple Things - The Giggles

John Price x fem!reader

Summary: What gives our favorite grump, Captain John Price the giggles.

——————

You know your husband John Price like the back of your hand. So when it comes to getting his boyish laugh floating through the house you know how to get it. One of the first time you ever heard him giggle like a little girl was when you were called Mrs. Price for the first time. Ever since then you had been living for John’s boyish laugh. After years you worked it down to a sience now knowing what makes the stoic Brit giggle.

When John finds his favorite something laying around the house it has him giggling like a child. John knows you left it there for him. It could be his favorite candy bar sitting on the counter where his mail usually goes. Or a new cigar placed in his cigar box. John can’t help but giggle like a fool when he finds your little surprises laying around. You always manage to surprise him in the smallest ways. You end up giggling yourself when you over hear his boyish laugh from the other room at the sight of a hersey kiss sitting at the bottom of the mug he used every morning. Or he’ll giggle after a particularly grueling day at the sight of an ice cold beer sitting where his shampoo usually goes. It allows him to have a shower beer and most likely leave his grumpiness behind.

John’s high pitched laugh was ever present with your children. It’s especially present when they’re learning to run. He was the biggest cheerleader as soon as your children began walking. But running? John can’t handle watching his children stumble around. It has him giggling like a fool when their arms are moving faster than their legs. If they trip and try to run it off, forget it. Johns done for. Another is when he hears his children swear for the first time. Something about hearing a loud ‘fuck’ or ‘wanker’ echo out his children’s mouths has him giggling then full on belly laughing. John knows they learned it from him and after his much needed laugh he’s doing damage control so they won’t say it in front of you. He won’t be laughing then.

Not many things make John giggle like a school girl. John likes to hunt and fish in his free time. He prefers taking you over any one else. You could complain the entire time but John’s just giddy that you’re there. He won’t actually giggle unless he catches a particularly big fish, hearing you whoop and holler at his catch has him falling more in love with you. It has to be a big enough fish you take a picture of him with it. That cheesy smile in the picture you take of John does not capture the high pitched laugh that echoes into the open air.

And lastly another way to induce the giggles from the stoic and straight faced John Price is a well timed dirty joke. You’ve made some crass jokes that have wound up with your husband bent over and giggling like a school girl. Attempting to stifle his high pitched laugh as on lookers glare at him. Once was in church during Easter with his family. You asked John if he thought the preacher was hung because then you might pay attention. You were both scolded for acting like children which only had John laughing harder. Another was when John broke your bed frame while rearranging furniture. You told him you thought that would have happened already from him ‘dicking you down.’ John had never heard that phrase before and started laughing like a child at your crude joke. John now uses the phrase when he’s joking around with you in private.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch25

Description: Fluff Fluff Fluff

*Laika's POV*

Johnny announces that he has ordered a takeaway. He and Kyle leave the kitchen shouting something to John about car keys and collecting it - they said they'd be twenty or so minutes. I settle onto the sofa, trying to relax myself from today's events. I close my eyes and take some deep breaths.

My phone, long forgotten in my pocket, dings. It's a message from an unknown number.

Hello Amorcito,

Alejo and I shipped your things a couple of days ago. They should arrive tomorrow.

Please, if you ever need somewhere, know that you are always welcome in Las Almas.

I hope your Alphas come to their senses soon. You belong with them even if you do not see it yet.

-Rudy x

I read the message, smiling with teary eyes. I'd never felt so.. cared for.

"What're you crying about?" Simon asks in that gruff voice of his.

"Oh" I sniff "it's nothing.. just a text from Rodolfo.. they shipped our stuff. He says it'll be here tomorrow.."

He nods with narrowed eyes "and that made you cry because..." he tilts his head, confused.

I can't help but giggle at his lack of social skills.. I just turn my phone around to him so he can read the text himself.

"You're not fuckin' going back to Las Almas, love.." he grumbles.

"No, I - I" I gulp, nervous about what I'm about to say "I think I want to stay here.. until you guys get sick of me, that is.. I know I'm a lot to deal with"

He rolls his eyes, throwing himself heavily on the sofa beside me. He grabs me around the waist, easily dragging me over his lap, so that I'm sat sideways over his huge thighs.

I squeal at the sudden shift and the blast of Alpha scent I get due to being so close to him.

"Stop doubting yourself so much. I did the same when I first joined. Wasted months pushing them away, love.. don't make the same mistake.."

"But it's hard.. I don't mean it.." - "I know you don't, just let us prove to you that we want you here, yeah?"

I gulp again and nod, sending a soft smile his way.

"Uhm.. Simon..?" I ask, thinking that now is as good a time as any to ask the question that had been burning in the back of my mind all day.

"What is it, little bird..?" - "How.. How much do you know about Omegas.. and heats..?" - "Enough.. why, what's botherin' you?"

"I - I thought my heat would last longer.. what if I'm damaged..?"

"Wish ya' wouldn't think like that.. Your heat technically started when you went feral because of that fuckin' Graves wanker.. musta' lasted a coupla' days, at least.."

"But.. why could you smell me, when the others couldn't.. and do I still smell..?"

"You still smell, don't have to worry about that, sweet girl" he purrs, making a point to sniff into my neck, making me giggle and push against him.

"And.. the others could still smell you, love.. but it wasn't as strong. I must have some resistance to the blockers or whatever fuckin' drugs the Russians put you on. Could always smell you just fine. It was bitter to begin with, because you were so stressed and scared.. but it's changed... I can tell it's leavin' your system.. not long now and you'll be clean as a whistle.." he jokes, nudging me gently.

"Do- do I smell nice..?" I ask, self consciously ..

He looks at me as if I'd grown two heads. "Are you havin' a fuckin' laugh? Can't you see how we all react to you? And that's us holdin' back.. Johnny was droolin' and humpin' you for fuck sake, love"

I hide in his neck, giggling. "You're not as scary as you try to pretend to be, Lieutenant.." I whisper into his ear.

He growls softly and pinches me in my waist softly, causing me to jolt and yelp in surprise, giggling against him louder now.

"Behave, girl.." he grumbles at me. I relax against him and wait for the food to arrive. I must doze off momentarily, because when I wake to the sound of Johnny and Kyle arriving back, I can feel Simon tracing shapes on my back, softly while scratching my scalp. He had taken his gloves off. I relax into him, so that he doesn't know that I'm awake. I feel him move slightly and whisper shout to Johnny and Kyle to shut the fuck up. I can't help the little giggle that I let out.

"Awkt, the little lass was havin' you on, Si.. she wisnae even sleepin'! Just wanted you to keep scratchin' her.. You like bein' petted like a little kitten then, do ya lass?"

I blush and hide from them, whining into Simon's neck tiredly.

"Johnny, piss off and go find Cap.. he'll be in his office. Kyle, get the food ready would ya?"

"On it, LT" Kyle replies, quickly leaning over the arm of the sofa to place a kiss on my forehead then looking to Simon, holding me so softly, before giving him a quick kiss on the top of his masked head as well.

A couple of minutes later, Johnny and John return.

I shuffle off of Simon's lap, much to his disapproval. I settle in between his and John's thick thighs.

"You okay, gorgeous..?" John asks me. I blush and nod. He curls a large arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.

"Was on the phone to Alejandro.. he says your stuff should be arriving tomorrow" - "I know.. Rudy told me.." I giggle.

He furrows his brow. "How did Rudy tell you, Love.. I've just found out myself..?" - "He text me" I hold up my phone and show him the message.

He takes the phone and reads the message grumbling the words aloud as he reads.

"Nice that he messaged you and all, Love. But you ain't going back to Las Almas.." he says lowly.

"Already told her that, Cap" Ghost huffs from my other side.

"Good thing we came to our senses then, eh, Simon?"

"What does the text say? I'm confused.." Kyle shouts over from the other side of the kitchen.

"Aye, let's see it Lass.."

I stand up and walk towards the two sergeants, holding my phone out for them to read.

Johnny reads the message quickly, plucking the phone from my hands and placing it on the counter, before grabbing me and lifting me into his arms.

"No fuckin' way.. staying with us now, Lass.. Cap, you need to get a move on and bite a claim into her pretty wee neck.. don't want her wanderin' off to a new pack.." he jokes, licking and nipping at my scent glands, cheekily.

"Johnny!" I whine, giggling. "What, Lass? We'll mark you up real good. All four of us.. I think I'll put my mark rigghhtttt..." - he nips dangerously hard into the valley between my collarbone and shoulder - "HERE!"

I yelp and moan in pleasure. He just laughs at my reaction, smug in the knowledge that he was turning me on.

"Johnny, stop teasing the poor girl" John warns him, standing from the sofa and making his way over towards us.

Johnny slowly lowers me back to the ground, planting another quick kiss to my cheek.

I feel John's big, burly arms wrap around me from behind.

"Seems like I'm the last one to get my hands on you, Love.." he growls into my ear - "Y-you've been busy.." I whisper, overwhelmed by all of the attention.

"Aye, been busy but I've managed to get us a few days off.. we're shippin' out again next week, but until then, we're on leave" he grumbles to the other Alphas who all sound pleased.

He massages my shoulders, still pressed up against my back. I lean into him, loving how warm and safe he felt.

"I thought we could take our girl out, tomorrow. Shopping and a meal.. what do we think?" he asks.

The others all agree, I turn in his arms and whisper "I'd like that, Alpha.."

"Means I'll finally get to spend some time with you. Been jealous watchin' these prats get to play with you while I've been working. Drives me fucking mad"

I lean into him, standing as tall as I can, and press a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. He purrs, before suddenly showing his Alpha side.

"And as for marking you up, Love.." he pulls my hair away from my neck, and studies where Johnny had left small marks, and the slightly darker one where he had bitten, not enough to break skin..

"I reckon mine will sit right here.." he circles the spot on my neck, where he has chosen to mark me, with the soft pads of his thumb, leaning down to kiss softly on it.

"But needs to be done properly.. not just gonna bite into you like a mutt.." he grumbles.

"Alpha.." I whine.

"Shh, all in good time, sweet heart.. all in good time"

"C'mon now, time to eat".

He steps away from me and I glance at the others in the room.

They were all staring at the scene before them, at how their pack Alpha had teased me.

I stumble back to the sofa and curl up to Simon, whining and whimpering. Simon whispers to me "Won't be long, love. Don't worry".

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 26

This is a reworked version of the original day 26 taking into account feedback.

Moniker: Mace Risk Level: High. Mace is a permanent resident of the Kennel. Brief: Cervix-bullying, degredation Safeword: Refer to first brief. Mace may push limits now he has you to himself. Ghost will be right outside - Price

You took a deep breath outside of the door and steeled yourself. Bastard had you in a pretty little summer dress, no underwear. The fabric was exceedingly rippable and you suspected that was on purpose. Cervix-bullying didn’t sound like something that was going to be fully pleasant, but then when he had fucked you with his fist you hadn’t thought that could possibly feel good and you came anyway.

Ok, you could do this, was Mace really so fucking scary? If anything he was just annoying around the Kennel. You didn’t think you had been around one another outwith this room without bickering. You pushed the door open, letting it close behind you while you took in the room. Not that there was anything to take in, it was entirely bare, just concrete floor and walls and one very large, fully dressed man.

“Mace.”

“Sweet thing.”

After a beat you leapt into action, twisting around and grabbing the door handle to get the fuck back out. He laughed and in two large steps was on you, grabbing your arm and ripping you back from the door before throwing you to the ground. It fucking hurt and you could feel that the dress was covering sweet fuck all with how you were sprawled. Fucking asshole.

“Wanker!”

“Nah not today, don’t use my hand when there’s a perfectly good pussy” he said, crouching next to you and trailing a finger up your bare leg. “Perfectly good may be a stretch hm? Hear you’ve been getting your little cunt wrecked by whoever asks. Fucking loose slut.”

“If I’m such a loose slut then why do you want me?” you shot back, maybe a little too smug about the very clear outline of hard cock pressing against the fabric of his trousers.

“Maybe I don’t and you’re just a convenient hole” he mused, the rest of his fingers joining the first as he squeezed your upper thigh hard, clearly enjoying the spill of fat around his digits and the little pained winch you gave.

“Or maybe you do and you fought to get another day with me before my contract is up.”

You held his eyes, not willing to submit as fully to him as you did for the likes of Price. A little because you were pretty sure Mace had no interest in a sweet submissive either, he wanted some bite. It was something you had learned during your interactions with him outside of the play room. Even in his interactions with others you saw it. He would wind Soap up something awful, annoy Gaz until the usually laid back man was about ready to get into a fight. You didn’t miss that he seemed to take such a particular interest in those Ghost was close to.

But mostly it was because you weren’t an idiot. There were very few people in this place for which full submission wasn’t a very dangerous concept.

“Punched König’s lights out sweet thing, he’s nursing a fractured jaw.”

You tried not to react to that, but by the glimmer of dark delight in his eyes you had failed and given away how that made your heart race and your cunt clench. Had they really fought for today? The idea of two of the biggest monsters here violently trying to assert a claim for your time shouldn’t have been hot, and yet you were pretty sure you were leaving a wet spot on the flimsy fabric of your dress.

“Must have been a cheap shot.”

“Aww, you defending your daddy? Or were you his momma? Hard to keep track with that one.”

His big body was looming over you, getting closer as his hand squeezed once more before starting to climb up between your leg.

“You jealous?”

“No need, doubt you get this sloppy wet for him. Nah, this is all for me isn’t it?”

His hand cupped your pussy, his middle finger dipping in to test just how wet you were. Wasn’t like you could do much about how soaked your cunt was. Mace was just… fuck he was so dripping with danger and your stupid brain had been so wildly traumatised by war that it took the alarm bells and turned them into arousal. Had it always been that way, or had weeks being the play thing of soldiers created that reaction in you?

“Maybe it’s not and you’re just a convenient cock.”

He barked a laugh and then manhandled you onto your knees, shoving your face down onto the floor as he unbuckled his belt to fish out his cock with absolutely no ceremony. He only tapped his already leaking tip on your hole once in warning before he crammed himself inside you.

Both of you moaned. You forgot how fucking good he felt, how heavy his scarred cock was inside of you.

“You got a silky pussy sweet thing, doubt anyone here could afford it if it wasn’t the military paying. Fucking luxurious, bet Ghost would hate to see his princess stuffed full of my spunk. Gonna fucking ruin it.”

Jesus the floor was uncomfortable, already the scrape of concrete had torn one of the straps of your dress, your tit uncomfortably close to escaping the pathetic bodice and being shredded to pieces with no barrier between skin and ground. And yet it felt right with him to have the constant edge of potential pain, the terror of mutilation being a breath away while your cunt took a pounding that it was craving.

“Ruin my pussy? You’re barely even fucking me” you taunted between pants.

“Not your pussy I’m gonna dirty up and ruin, this cock in going straight into your fucking womb you stupid bitch. I’m going to turn you inside out” he growled.

He wrestled your hips where he wanted them, your back screaming from how it was bent. From experience you knew when he was bringing out the degradation you were about to get your guts rearranged, so you tried to brace yourself. You joined your back in screaming soon after, a strangled yelp leaving you when he thrust back in and this angle sent him so much deeper.

“You feel that slut?”

“Oh my God, holy fuck” you choked, because you did.

His tip was hitting your cervix and it felt insane, like the sharp pain and teeth grinding discomfort of smacking your funny bone off of a hard surface. You tried to drag your body forward a little, one of your nails snapping as it clawed at the floor. He wouldn’t let you budge, completely overpowering you and using your body like a fleshlight.

“She can’t hold up against me for ever sweet thing, open up. Let me the fuck in” he cooed, hammering you sensitive spongy flesh.

Logically you knew that wasn’t possible, but the threat of it was sinking into you like a guillotine sinking through the back of your neck. Could he really punch through? You’d fucking die, he’d rip your womb apart and then he’d dump his cum on the wreckage.

“N-no, Mace fuck! Ah, that hurts” you cried.

It did. You pussy tried to ignore the sharp bite of pain every time he smashed against your cervix and focus on how good the stretch was, but it was too much. The scrape of your exposed skin on the concrete floor added to the pain and it was becoming miserable despite how you tried to push through and enjoy it.

“Quit whining, this is what a hole is for” he grunted, removing a hand from your waist to wrench on of your arms in position to have your hand at your pussy before he put his hand back on your waist to keep fucking you.

You tried to play with your clit, tried to get enough pleasure for the pain to start feeling good. It wasn’t working, but none the less your pussy was clenching around him only in an attempt to get his cock out rather than suck it further in. His laughed moan told you all you needed to know about how it felt for him.

“Mace please” you begged. “It’s too much.”

As much as you knew he’d rather keep going just how you were, you were also more or less warning him that you were going to need to safeword if he didn’t change it up. You nearly sobbed with relief when he pulled out.

“Such a fucking spoiled little princess” he spat while he stood and then hoisted you up to your feet and bullied you against on of the walls, spinning you so your hands were planted and your ass was up, your throbbing hole on display for him.

You screeched when he pounded back into you, trying to wriggle to make things more comfortable and being punished for it with a brutal smack on your ass. He forced your hips back where the angle meant he was bruising your already screaming cervix.

“Not doing everything for you, get your hand on your useless cunt already.”

You didn’t think it would do much good, but this time playing with your clit did feel better. The scrape of concrete was gone now, your knees aching but not being actively split open anymore. The one hand bracing you against the wall hurt, but it was nowhere near as bad as being on the floor had been.

It was hard to focus in on the bundle of nerves giving you pleasure when his cock was busy giving you unreal pain, but you were almost deliriously determined to cum. It felt like a fight with him, like he wanted to make a point that your pleasure was secondary. God it was basically just like how you bickered, constantly trying to come out on top.

You had to be rough with yourself, your fingers furiously rubbing your rapidly swelling clit. It was like a neck and neck race you thought, you just trying to keep a minuscule lead over the pain and trying to cross the finish line before it could claim victory.

“Fuck you” you hissed at him as you fought to cum.

“You’re softening up sweet thing, I can fucking feel it.”

He sounded out of it and you mostly ignored his rambling, violently embracing the orgasm that smacked into you with brutal force. It wasn’t pleasure, not with how your pussy was trying to milk and eject his cock at the same time, but it was a viciously satisfying victory.

Or it was until you actually felt his tip push a little further than should have been possible. Blinding white pain shot through you body at only the barest hint of a stretch of your cervix. You were going to throw up. Oh God.

Terror flooded through you as he frantically tried to use his cock like a battering ram.

“Fuck fuck I’m going to fucking get inside. You’re going to open, holy fuck!”

“Red! Red!” you screamed.

There was shouting and then you were empty and crumpled on the ground shivering and crying. Fingers were between your legs and there was yelling but you were disorientated from that blast of pain and the shock of him genuinely nearly breaking you.

“I don’t think so. She looks swollen and sore, but nothing inside is torn up. The scrapes and bruising everywhere else should be ok.”

Price, that was Price’s deep rumbling voice.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“Fuck off!”

That was Ghost and Mace and you looked over to the racket, finding Ghost trying to wrestle Mace into submission to get him to calm down. You caught his eyes for a moment and saw something dark and vulnerable there.

Him and Nikto were two sides of the same coin you thought. Nikto wanted so desperately to prove a connection with visible marks on the outside, blood smeared on skin, his brand burned into flesh. For Mace he needed an invisible claim on the inside. His cum inside your womb, deeper than anyone else would ever go.

You didn’t think either of them would ever be able to leave the Kennel. But they could be tempered, they could be given enough to soothe the violent possessiveness that drove them without letting it get too far. A tattoo or a scar for Nikto maybe, a plug for Mace to keep all of his cum inside your body for as long as he needed or your open mouth willing to take his spit and cum and blood.

You broke eye contact and burrowed your face into Price’s warm chest, willing your brain to switch off and let him coddle you.

If you let your thoughts keep spinning out about how you were sure you could make them happy, you were going to wind up asking to stay.