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megamindsecretlair · 7 months

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Fall Into You

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Slight power imbalance, Kevin is a landlord and reader is the tenant. No sexual favors being exchanged.

Summary: Hoping to beat the storm, Kevin comes over to fix your sink. However, the power goes out and you get to know your new landlord a little better.

Word Count: 7,402k

AO3 Link

A/N: Hello, my loves. This has been on my brain for a while and a special gift for @babybratzmaraj. I guess I should stop apologizing for writing so much, the story gon' need what it needs. ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz

The doorbell tore you from your thoughts as you looked out of your window. The TV stated that the storm was only getting started. Only getting started…

You inwardly groaned and fixed your glasses, heading to your door and checking the peephole. Kevin Atwater stood on the other side and your heart fluttered just seeing him. You stepped back, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“Kevin! Thank you! You didn’t have to come today. This storm looks nasty,” you said.

Kevin smiled and shook his head. He wore a black puffer jacket zipped up and carried a small toolbox. “No problem, I promise. Chicago’s seen worse and you need a working sink,” he said.

You stepped back and let him inside, hoping that your glasses didn’t fog up from the sheer sexiness that entered your apartment.

“Huh, you decorated since last time,” he said.

You looked around at the cozy space. The walls were standard, plain cream, but you made sure to dress it up with paintings in soothing blue and ocean pieces that reminded you of your hometown. The boxes had been cleared away since the last time Kevin was over to fix your bedroom door.

“Yeah, had to make it look like I actually live here,” you said with a giggle.

Kevin laughed with you. He placed the toolbox on your small, round kitchen table and took off his jacket. You busied yourself with tidying up your clean apartment. You picked up the bowl of fruit just to…put it right back down on the sink.

You had to look anywhere but at the deep burgundy button up he wore. Or the peek of a black tank underneath. His bulging arms or the way his hips sloped just so. You had to look away so that he wouldn’t see the neon “horny” sign on your forehead.

You could not crush on your landlord. It was several kinds of wrong. But how could you not? He was so tall, charming, funny, and sweet. His juicy pink lips have been the star of multiple fantasies lately.

“...help you with that,” Kevin was saying.

“Huh? Sorry…” you said and gave him a sheepish smile. Your mind tended to go on little vacations. Especially where Kevin Atwater was concerned.

He smiled at you and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I said what did you do with the boxes? I told you I could help you with that,” he said.

You waved him off and dropped down into a nearby kitchen chair. “You already do so much for me, Kevin. I really should be paying you,” you said.

“Rent’s just fine with me. I told you to call me for whatever you need,” he said. His eyes lingered on you a second too long before he licked his lips and started rummaging around in his toolbox.

You were incapable of thinking anything but dirty thoughts when he spoke. Whether he meant it that way or not. He brought the toolbox closer to your sink. He flipped the faucet and the pipes groaned. A loud, groaning sound as if there were ghosts dancing in the pipes.

He flipped it back off and gave you a look. “You ain’t tell me it was making that kind of a noise,” he said.

“I told you it was a noise,” you said. You shrugged your shoulders and he chuckled, licking his lips as he went back to looking at the sink.

“I was thinking it was a small noise. Like something just needed some WD-40,” he said. “That…sound bad, right?” He asked.

“You’re asking me?” You shook your head dramatically. “If I knew anything about fixing sinks, I wouldn’t have asked you here during a storm.” You still felt guilty about that. You told Kevin that you could wait until it passed, that running water wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. You had bottles of water and the bathroom sink worked just fine to wash your hands.

As your mind wandered, you weren’t paying attention to Kevin getting closer. You didn’t notice as he stood in front of you and dropped down to a squat to look you in the eye. You shrieked when you finally saw him as he seemed to have teleported from the sink.

“There is no way in hell I’ma let my favorite tenant live here with no running water. So no more need to apologize, right?”

His raspy voice made you lose all coherent thought. You twiddled your fingers since he was too close and you gave him a light, nervous giggle. “Stop. I’m not your favorite tenant. I’ve seen the way Mrs. Brennan looks at you. Like you hang the moon,” you said.

Kevin chuckled and stood up, going back to the sink with the toolbox in his hand. He hummed. “I helped her out with something and now she keeps trying to set me up with her granddaughter,” he said.

“Oh? Does Kevin Atwater have trouble meeting women?” You teased.

He laughed as he opened the cabinet underneath. You hadn’t had a chance to get to the store for proper cleaning supplies. So far, all you had was bleach and Pinesol, a small bucket, and a pack of sponges. It was on your long, long, long list of things you needed in order to feel settled in this place.

The wind roared outside and it shook the windows. It howled. The heater was on but did little to combat the chill in the air. You would never feel settled here. The winters were a different breed. Designed to freeze you to the toes and wrack your body with uncontrollable shivers.

“I meet plenty of women. But timing and circumstances are never there,” Kevin said. He settled onto his back and turned off the water to the sink. He began working, leaning forward to grab a tool and then use it under the sink.

His shirt rode up revealing a soft middle that you wanted to sink your teeth into. He was solid and stocky, built for sturdiness.

“What do you mean by timing and circumstance?” You asked.

“Well, I did have a thing with someone but wasn’t exactly healthy. She didn’t like that I’m a cop,” he said.

“Hate to break it to you, but you’ll find that a lot of people won’t like that you’re a cop,” you said. For you, it was always, “fuck cops”. After meeting Kevin, now it was, “want to fuck that cop in particular”.

You looked useless sitting there at the kitchen table, but what else were you supposed to do? You still had some unpacking to do but you didn’t feel right leaving him alone. The place didn’t feel like yours yet. Your manners prevented you from leaving him to it as if he were some servant only here to do a job.

“That’s fair. But can’t stop me from trying,” he said.

“That’s the spirit. Are you a romantic?” You asked. You heard the words after you spoke them and shook your head, not that he could see. “Sorry, that’s rude. You don’t have to answer that.” You pushed your glasses back up your nose and blew out a quiet sigh.

“Nah, it’s cool. I guess, yeah, I would say I’m a romantic. Just waiting for the right girl. How ‘bout you come help me? Hand me that wrench,” he said. He pointed to something in his toolbox.

You stood up and got closer to him, getting down to your knees and sitting back on your legs. You picked up the nearest wrench and handed it to his outstretched hand. You shared a look with him as he took it from you and began loosening a bolt on the pipe.

“You? You into the whole thing about romance?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah. I believe it exists. How anyone can find love here when you’re freezing your ass off is beyond me,” you said.

“It’s all about layers. Undershirt, thermal, overshirt, sweater, hoodie, jacket. You’ll be warm enough,” he said.

You giggled. “Warm enough? I’d be sweating worse than…” You successfully caught yourself before mentioning sex. You bit the corners of your mouth to prevent you from giggling about that. Something about Kevin Atwater turned you into a giggling mess like some kid with a crush.

“Worse than what?” Kevin asked.

You glanced at him. His pink tongue poked out between his lips as he worked on the bolt. The screeching from the metal grated a bit and you winced.

“Worse than a sauna,” you finished lamely. He flicked a glance at you as if he knew that wasn’t what you were going to say originally. He left it alone as he hummed and returned to the bolt.

“You get used to it,” he said.

“This type of cold? No thanks,” you said.

Kevin chuckled. He sat up from the sink and fixed his shirt, lowering it over the glimpse of his stomach. He looked at you and smiled. “There’s more to Chicago than just the winter time. We have the best pizza. Everybody friendly, they just loud about it. Tell you what, why don’t you finally take me up on my offer to take you to Molly’s? It’s run by a couple of friends. They’re nice people, we’d all protect you, and you’d be able to get out and enjoy some things around here,” he said.

“A bar full of cops, doctors, and firemen? I’d feel so intimidated,” you said. You shook your head and giggled.

“Don’t. You need to get out,” he said.

“Pot, meet kettle. How many times have you been out this week?”

“Fair. But if you go out, I will too,” he said.

You held his stare and bit the corners of your mouth again. “I have so much to do here already,” you said. You didn’t like that you kept turning him down but the thought of meeting that many people at once? You wouldn’t survive it.

You knew Kevin would be nice and show you around but being at the center of attention was unbearable.

“One day I’ll get you to say yes. If you’re gonna be here, you may as well make some friends. I think you’d get along with Stella. You remind me of her,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, tough, no nonsense, funny, sweet,” he said.

“Please,” you said and giggled. Was this Stella single? Did they have something going?

Kevin opened his mouth to say something else when the wind howled louder, tearing your gaze to the window. The window shook and the lights began to flicker before they spasmed out. You shrieked as you were shrouded in darkness.

The pale, white glow of the outside gave your apartment a blue and gray tint. Like waking up in the morning and the sun was still hiding behind clouds. You stood up and went to the window but you weren’t sure what you were looking for. Only that the snow and hail seemed to fall harder, peppering the ground.

“Shoot,” you said.

Kevin stood up and moved behind you, placing one hand on your hip while he leaned behind you to look outside as well. His warm hand scorched your skin as he looked one way and then another.

“Let me see if it’s just us. Lock this door behind me,” he said.

You’d never seen this side of him yet. The kind that took charge. A new authority entered his voice, one that did not entertain disobedience. He turned and walked out and you followed behind to close and lock the door.

You paced your kitchen as you waited. You didn’t know why. Lights went out all the time. He was perfectly safe going to the basement to check the circuit breaker. Minutes passed while you piddled around, cleaning up runaway socks on the floor around the hamper.

Still had things to unload in the bathroom, but without light, you couldn’t see what you were pulling out of the box. It was too awkward holding your phone’s flashlight and the items.

A knock on your door made you jump but then you checked the peephole. Kevin stood there with his hands in his pockets, glancing around. You opened the door and let him back inside.

“Power’s out on the whole block. I already put in a call with utilities. With this kind of storm, there’s no telling when they’ll get out,” he said.

You sighed. “Oh, Kevin, I’m so sorry!” You said. You should have pushed him harder to stay home. To fix it another day.

“Hey, what did we say about apologizing?” He asked.

“Sorry! I just feel so bad. Oh! I said it again, sorry,” you said. You slapped a hand over your mouth as you couldn’t stop apologizing for trapping him here. Now what were you going to do? He couldn’t fix your sink in the dark and there was no power to cook so you couldn’t offer him a meal.

Kevin crossed towards you, invading your personal space. “No more apologizing. It’s okay,” he said.

“Well, I was going to save these until after. Since you’re stuck with me, we have cookies to hold us over,” you said.

“If I had to be stuck anywhere, I’m glad it’s with you,” he said.

You smiled and tugged on the sleeves of your purple shirt. Now that the power was out, that meant your heater was too. “Shit,” you said, realizing.

You told Kevin and he nodded. “Have you unpacked something to drink? I’ll show you how us Chicagoans stay warm,” he said.

“That’s the first thing I unpacked,” you said. You left his overwhelming presence and went to your kitchen. The plate of cookies were wrapped on the short sink so that he wouldn’t have seen it. You wanted to surprise him with gratitude for all the hard work he did around your place.

You opened a cabinet and grabbed two glasses. They clinked together as you placed them on the sink and went to a small pantry, taking out a bottle of whiskey. Kevin joined you in the kitchen to help and he whistled at the bottle. “Basil Hayden?” He asked.

“Did you expect something girly?” You asked.

“No ma’am, just didn’t take you for a whiskey type,” he said. He grinned and joined you at the table.

“Now, we don’t want to get wasted but the goal is to keep a steady drink going to stay warm. So how ‘bout some questions to get to know each other? Since we got all this time,” he said.

“Is this an interrogation?” You asked with a giggle.

“Naw, just two friends getting to know each other. So we either answer truthfully or take shots. Up for it?” He asked.

“I’m game if you are,” you said. Kevin took the lead by pouring tiny shots for you both in each glass. He pushed your glass towards you.

“You can go first,” he said.

You tapped the glass and thought about a good question to ask. “I’ll go easy. What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

“That’s easy?” He asked.

You nodded. You pointed to his glass. “You can always drink up if that’s too hard on you,” you said.

He smirked. “A secret I’ve never told anyone…I once met my celebrity crush at a mall signing. She signed a poster for me. I…still have it,” he said and smiled.

“Who! Who’s your secret crush?” You asked.

“Aht, it’s my turn. Worst heartbreak?” He asked.

“Easy questions, huh?” You asked.

He shrugged. “You don’t become friends by finding out each other’s favorite colors.”

You thought about it and nodded. You told him about your worst heartbreak and how you dealt with it. How difficult it was to move on from it.

You went back and forth asking safe, but deep questions that required more than yes or no answers. You learned more about him and if it was possible, you fell for him even more.

“How in the world are you single?” You asked when it was your turn again.

Kevin chuckled and played with his glass. So far, you had taken a few shots too nervous to answer the questions he asked. He had only taken two. One for when you asked about his parents and one when you asked about his first love.

“I wish I knew. I date; you make it sound like I hide in my house after work. The shit I see every day, sometimes I just need to get it out of my head. Dating on top of that just seems cruel,” he said.

You nodded. You could respect that. You had no idea what it was like being a cop. Seeing the worst humanity had to offer and still have to come up with hope for the people who survived. Dealing with the press and the community painting cops as modern day boogeyman. Still. He was too sweet and strong to not have someone. It was criminal.

“How come you don’t have anyone?” He asked.

You fixed your glasses and shrugged. “May be a surprise to you but guys these days are…nasty. They send unsolicited dick pics, they can’t hold a conversation, and think women owe them something for buying them a drink. Like…I didn’t ask for the drink so why does that mean I have to open my legs or suck them off? Especially when they won’t even go down on a woman!”

Kevin’s surprised face made you suddenly feel the alcohol loosening your limbs and warming you up. It definitely loosened your tongue. You groaned and rubbed your forehead. “Sorry, that’s TMI,” you said.

“I would say take a drink every time you apologize, but then this bottle would be gone.”

The word was on the tip of your tongue and you bit it to keep from speaking it. He smirked at your attempt and you rolled your eyes. “You don’t know everything,” you said. Well, the door was open…

“What is your ideal woman?” You asked.

“Ideal? Shit, I just want someone I vibe with. That thinks like me. Has goals,” he said.

“Beauty? Brains?” You asked.

“Why won’t you go to Molly’s with me?” He asked.

You smiled, remembering that it was only one question per person. “I don’t know anyone. Meeting new people sucks. I don’t have the personality for great first impressions,” you said.

“You know me,” he said. “I would make sure you’re good. And you are great at first impressions. I wouldn’t have rented to you otherwise.”

“You are just being nice like always. Why is it important for me to go to Molly’s?”

“I want you to feel welcome here. Feel like you belong so you can stay,” he said.

You ducked your head, playing with your glass. The soft slide of glass on the table was the only sound in the room. Outside, the wind continued to howl as the storm carried on. You shivered, despite feeling toasty from the whiskey. Your skin felt icy. “I moved here, Kevin. That’s about as permanent as it gets.”

Kevin scooted closer. He had to spread his legs wider to accommodate your chair. The smell of him invaded your senses. The smell of whiskey on him made your head fuzzy. He brought his hand up to caress your cheek. He gently turned your head to look at him.

“This may be the drink talkin’, but you feel this too, right? Between us? If I’m imagining it, let me know now,” he said.

You looked at his lips and then back up to his eyes. He caught the movement and did the same, his gaze drifting down your face and then back up again.

“You’re not imagining it,” you said.

Kevin leaned over and captured your lips in a sweet, tender kiss that warmed you up quicker than the whiskey. You returned the kiss, sighing, tongues dueling with each other.

“Hmm, knew you’d taste sweet,” he said. He pecked your lips once, twice, and then lingered on the third time humming.

Emboldened by his actions, you leaned out of your chair. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. Kevin sighed and put his hands on your hips, squeezing every so often.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said.

You smiled and kissed him again, rolling your hips. He groaned and his hands went lower to grab your ass. He gripped and massaged your ass, squeezing painfully enough to make you cry into his mouth. He growled hearing the sound, kissing you with more passion after each kiss.

“I want you, Kevin Atwater,” you said against his lips.

“Are you sure?” He asked. He leaned back and looked into your eyes. “If you’ve had too much to drink–”

“Shut up,” you said with a grin and kissed him.

You had been playing this subtle game between each other for weeks as you signed your lease and moved in. The first time you called him to tell him about your stuck doors, he showed up the next day he was free. He made conversation easy as he fixed the doors. He immediately put you at ease.

He found that your closet door was stuck too but he didn’t have time to fix it at the time. He told you that he would be back and again, he made it so easy to talk to him and time flew by when he was around. It was like you didn’t have time to think about being nervous when he was telling you about must see attractions to Chicago. He kept talking about the pizza and promised to bring one over.

He made moving there for work not feel so lonely. You were worried if you would find friends outside of work. No matter what, work friends were not true friends.

You kissed him again, your hands drifting down to start unbuttoning his shirt. The alcohol wasn’t affecting you in the way he thought. It only lowered your natural anxiousness about being bolder. Funner. More open. Going after what you wanted.

Now that you knew you weren’t crazy, that he wanted you as well, a dam broke. Kevin matched your desperateness to get your clothes off as well.

“I know another way to stay warm,” you said.

Kevin chuckled. “I told you I can help with whatever you need,” he said. “I keep my promises.”

You finally got his shirt loose and pushed it off of his shoulders. He had huge muscles, showing off a physique that made you lick your lips in anticipation. His thighs bunched underneath you and you moaned, rolling your hips against his pelvis.

His erection was thick against his jeans. Kevin grabbed the edges of your shirt and pulled it off you, revealing your bra. He moaned and kissed around your chest. His hands traveled up and down your back, warming it up just like he promised.

The black tank he wore underneath looked damn good on him but it had to go. He stopped kissing your chest long enough to let you remove it. Your hands explored his chest while he put his mouth over your nipple through the fabric.

You moaned, throwing your head back and giving him better access. He took the opportunity you presented and sucked on your titty until the fabric was soaked with his saliva. Your nipple became increasingly sensitive under his attention. You were hissing and shaking by the time he finally let go and admired his handiwork.

He switched to your other nipple, giving it the same love and attention as the first. You squirmed in his lap, unable to stop moving. Your hands moved to the back of his neck and held him to you. He groaned and continued to tug and suckle on your nipple until it was sensitive as well.

As a big girl, it was not easy to feel small. Dainty. Delicate. But you felt like that in Kevin’s capable hands. You felt worshiped. Adored. The soft light coming from outside made the room feel like a bubble. Like time stopped somewhere outside and you were free to explore. To breathe. To cherish this moment with Kevin.

He licked the swell of your breast outside of your bra and you moaned. He kissed up your neck until his lips found yours. Until he was nibbling on your lips and licking away the sting. He sucked on your bottom lip and you felt the tug in your pussy.

You were uncomfortably wet. You felt your arousal dampening your panties. You didn’t know how much longer you would hold out. Or survive.

“You squirming a lot there. You feelin’ good?” He asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“What I’m gon’ find when I take them panties off?” He asked.

“Me, excited. Ready for you,” you said.

“Ohh, you a little naughty on top of being sweet?”

You didn’t have time to answer. Kevin stood up, holding you, cupping your ass so you didn’t slip. He kissed you while he held you. But your heart was thumping. Thundering. “I got you, don’t you even worry,” he whispered against your lips.

The apartment was small so he crossed the space in a few steps to get to your bed. He gently laid you down and stepped back to admire how needy you were. How you stretched out on the bed and made a sublime vision of wantonness.

He bit his lip with a smirk as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them off your hips. Your breathing was rapid, out of control. Your chest rose and fell in quick succession. Your skin felt alive and electric. Like he needed to enter you right this second or you’d spontaneously combust.

“Look at you. Needy little thing,” he commented. His hands spanned the expanse of your thighs, rubbing and kneading.

“Oh, Kevin,” you moaned.

“So you ready for me, huh?” He asked. You watched through slitted eyes as he tilted his head. How could he be in control right now? Had it been that long for you?

You were too busy packing and saying goodbye to family and friends to worry about getting your rocks off. You were too busy working and unpacking in Chicago to worry about finding someone to relieve the pressure. The past few weeks, it had been you and Roman the Rose.

“I’m so ready,” you said, making him chuckle.

He took off his shoes, socks, and jeans and you watched him unveil parts of his body you imagined. Lusted over. Pictured way too often to ever tell him the truth.

“Mhm, we gon’ see,” he said. He joined you on the bed. Kneeling on it, the bed groaned under his weight and you smiled. Your bed had been previously unprepared for someone of his size. He dropped his lips to your chest slowly. When his breath fanned over your nipples, you moaned and twisted away from him.

He completely covered you, however, so there was no place to go. He licked the swell of your breasts again, glancing up at your reactions. You were mesmerized by him. Under his spell. One of his hands slipped up your thigh and you twinged. Goosebumps pebbled your skin but you felt like you were on fire.

He pressed a thumb over your panties and pushed in, digging the fabric past your pussy lips and groaned at the wet glide of it already. “Oh shit,” you moaned.

“Hm, look what I found,” he said against your skin.

His fingers played with your pussy over your panties and you kept moving, twisting, writhing against your bed and underneath him. Every so often, his thumb would grace your pussy lips. That hint of skin to skin contact made you hiss and roll your hips against his hand.

Kevin used his teeth to drag down the cup of your bra. He grinned finding your dark nipple and then he latched on, swirling his tongue around it in a way that let you know he’d do the same to your pussy when given the chance.

Your breaths were choppy. Belly flipping. Pussy throbbing. Hands clutching your sheets and yanking.

Your orgasm was tearing through you, stealing your breath like a thief. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as rippling pleasure traveled throughout your body. Kevin hummed through it all.

“Look so damn pretty when you cum. Gon’ look even better when I get in there. I bet you’re gonna feel good ridin’ this dick,” he said. His raspy voice was its own brand of magic. Your nipples were still sensitive under his ministrations and the painful tug felt delicious.

You whimpered. He used his teeth to drag down your other cup and gave it attention as well. His tongue flicking across the dark areola. “Shit!” You moaned.

“Mhm, let me hear it,” he said. His warm breath fanned across the wet spots he left behind and you shuddered.

“Kevin, please,” you begged.

“Naw, that beggin’ shit don’t work on me,” he said.

You whimpered once more as he rolled your nipple between his teeth. His hand went back to rubbing your pussy but this time, he finally slipped underneath. His thumb teased the area around your clit, never quite hitting it and teasing you with no mercy.

“Oh fuuck,” you moaned. You turned your head to the side and bit your sheets, turning distraught at the realization that he was going to take his time with your body. He was an explorer. He was a master conductor fine tuning your body and learning the sounds you were capable of producing.

He sucked hard on your nipple and your back left the soft sheets, arching away from the bed. “Augh,” moaned.

At the same time, he dipped a finger into your entrance getting his finger wet up to the knuckle. “Nice and fuckin’ wet. Fuck,” he moaned.

You hissed as he moved his finger in and out. His thumb continued to tease your clit, never directly touching it. It was a dual sensation that drove you insane and contracted on his finger.

“You gon’ feel this good squeezing on my dick?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you said and nodded. Hell yes you would. He just needed to believe you and get inside you already. You moved your hips against his finger and he hummed in appreciation.

“Oh, impatient too. You wanna cum again?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please, I wanna cum,” you whined, your voice tinny and weak.

“Good girl, using your words without me having to tell you. A’right, I’ll let you cum,” he said. He pushed a second finger inside you and then began pumping in earnest. His thumb moved to rub circles around your clit and you came instantly, shouting and twitching.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you moaned as you came, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Kevin placed kisses along your chest as you did so, keeping up his particular brand of torture. He slowed down as your breathing returned to normal.

“Hmm-mm,” I can get used to that,” he said.

You struggled to your elbows and looked at him. “Fuck,” you panted.

He grinned and stood up. He slipped his fingers out of you and then licked them one by one. He moaned, closing his eyes. Fuck. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. He licked his fingers like runaway scoops of brownie mix left on the spatula.

You were getting worked up looking at him. He was distracted. You smirked as you leaned forward and pressed kisses to his stomach. He tensed up at the contact and you looked up at him.

He grinned at you, grabbing you by the throat. Your eyes fluttered closed. He hummed. He pulled you into a kiss. A wet, sloppy, loud one that made you hiss and scoot closer to him. You were dripping, soaked. Every movement you made called attention to the fact that you were wet as hell.

“I got somethin’ for you, but I wanna eat first. We didn’t get to them cookies you baked,” he said.

Your eyes turned watery. “Please, let me touch you, Kevin,” you said.

He planted another kiss on your lips, lingering to swipe his tongue around your lips and diving inside. Your pussy ached. You’d never felt so empty in your entire life. “You’ll get your chance to make sure my dick wet for you. I don’t wanna hurt you when I finally fuck you,” he said.

You sighed painfully through your nose. Your vision swam with tears. You were beyond horny. You didn’t think you were this insatiable. You had two orgasms already but you wanted more. You wanted more from him.

Kevin licked his lips and removed his hand from your neck.. He rubbed your lips with his thumb and then gave you a sweeter kiss this time around. “Now lean back and let me get to eatin’,” he commanded.

You needed no further encouragement as you flopped back onto the bed. He peeled your panties off, cooing at the dripping mess you were. “Hm-mm,” he sighed. He kissed your thighs as he slipped your panties off. He licked your calf. He threw your panties somewhere behind him and it landed with a soft, wet plop.

You would have felt embarrassed usually. But there was nothing but pure, uncut lust. You could taste it in the air. Feel it burning you inside and out.

Kevin hummed, stroking himself through his briefs. He spread your legs and watched as your arousal slowly leaked out of you. You felt it roll down the crack of your ass and shivered. Cool air blasted from somewhere. The wind continued to howl, adding to the soft orchestra of sounds you were currently making.

Kevin knelt down slowly and got into position between your legs. He put them over his shoulders and yanked you down to the edge of the bed. His arms hooked underneath your legs and spread you open for his meal.

He blew slowly across your wet clit and you shivered. The anticipation was worse. You couldn’t stop moving, shaking, yearning. Kevin laughed and kissed your clit. He hummed. “Taste so fuckin’ good already. You’re so wet, baby,” he said. “Gonna drown in this pretty pussy.”

“Fuck, Kevin!” You shrieked.

He chuckled. “Calm down, what you cussin’ for? I ain’t even do nothin’ yet,” he said.

You whined, rolling your hips. “Please, please, please,” you begged. You couldn’t take this teasing. You weren’t used to it. Had you even had sex before this? You thought you had decent lovers before. Men who knew what they were doing and had you screaming until the cows came home.

But Kevin? Kevin eclipsed any man that came before. You were a virgin all over again. This was your first time and your partner was an expert. A sex demon sent straight from hell.

“The more you beg, the longer I take,” he said. He licked outside of your pussy lips. He went as far as the seam and pulled back, licking down ‘till he reached your entrance. His tongue just crested the surface of it.

“Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You yelled and huffed.

Kevin continued to tease you, drawing curses and screams and yells as he explored your body. Your thighs shook violently. Tingles turned to pinpricks against your legs the longer he held them open.

Wave upon wave of desire flooded your system. Your hands played in his hair as he worked, savoring you. He hummed every so often when you tugged on his hair or made a sound that sounded like you were near death. Near leaving this plane of existence forever.

You stopped trying to plead with him. You become engrossed in the pleasure he was giving you. You and it were one and you surrendered to the feel of him. He finally pushed in further, drawing his tongue close to your clit.

“Auhh,” you croaked.

Kevin kept going, swirling his tongue. His sloppy, loud eating was seduction personified. He sucked so hard that he made noises with your pussy.

You couldn’t say anything to let him know that you were enjoying yourself. You couldn’t encourage him to keep doing what he was doing. Your mind was gone. Gone on a different trip this time.

He sighed against your pussy and then flicked his tongue on your clit. It was your undoing. You cried out, pupils blown wide as you came and came and came. Shivers wracked your body. Kevin held you down in his powerful arms, helping you weather the tempest rushing through you.

Your fingers dug into his wild hair and pulled. It didn’t seem to faze Kevin. He continued to eat you out as if searching for the next meal course. He ate you on the way down from the high. You moaned and bit your lip, hoping pain would help dull this type of ecstasy. It did not.

Kevin smacked his lips as he slowly stopped, rolling his tongue one more time. He leaned back and surveyed his work. You heard him smacking his lips. “Makin’ such a big mess for me,” he whispered. He kissed your pussy and then leaned back.

Your eyes found his. He smirked. His beard dripped with your essence. Entire lower jaw was wet and you saw trails of your slick in his beard. He rubbed it in, moving his hand to work in what you left on him.

“How you feelin’, gorgeous?” He asked.

“Like I died,” you said.

He chuckled. “Well, now you got some work to do. Get this dick wet,” he said.

He helped you into a sitting position. You yelped, feeling the giant pool you made on the edge of the bed. You were definitely going to have to wash these immediately. He grabbed your throat, tearing your thoughts away from the bed and back onto him.

He leaned down and kissed you. Fuck, you tasted good on him. You smelled yourself and it only turned you on more. He sucked on your bottom lip and then swiped his tongue up. He made out with you and you somehow dripped more. You were a veritable slip and slide at this point. If he entered you, he’d face no resistance.

He pulled back and you smiled goofily at him. He smiled back. “Even better than I been dreamin’,” he said. He leaned back and let you go. You watched as he removed his briefs. Your eyes widened at the size of him.

He was long and thick, a deadly combination. Maybe all the prep time was more from necessity. Had he tried entering you without lube or without foreplay, that shit would hurt. You were no punk though.

You fixed your glasses and greedily took him into your mouth. You were not as nuanced as he was. You did not have time for games. You had been desperate to touch him, taste him, and explore him in the same way he did to you. You sucked the tip of him and he hissed, hands going to the side of your face.

You pushed past his hands, sucking as much of him down as you could. You used your hands on the area you couldn’t get to. You spat on his dick and used it to let your hands glide better.

“Sweet fuck,” he moaned.

You sucked on him, remembering to breathe through your nose so that you didn’t pass out doing this. Your pussy throbbed as he continued to moan and throw his head back, rolling his neck. Your drool slipped past your lips and coated his shaft. You flicked your tongue across his tip and he jerked his hips forward.

His hands on the side of your head gripped you harder and pushed you down on his dick. Deeper than you would normally take someone. You had been worried that you would puke or something. However, you relaxed your throat and worked together to soak his dick with your saliva and make sure that he wouldn’t hurt you on entry.

“Fuck, right there. Right there,” he moaned.

You moaned right back, loving the way he took control of his pleasure and used you. “Let me cum in that pussy, baby,” he said.

You looked up at him and he licked his lips. You nodded. “Yef,” you said around his dick.

He slipped out of your mouth and you sucked in deep breaths. Your head was light. Floating. Soaring. You licked your lips and rubbed your cheeks to get the ache out. But Kevin grabbed you roughly and flipped you over on the bed.

“Ouee, shit,” you groaned. You sniffled. Fuck, he was ruining you for any other guy. You would never be able to have sex with anyone else ever again! Was it too early to propose? Was it too early to ask him to move into this tiny apartment with you and deliver this every night on demand? Would that scare him away?

His large hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. One hand left as he guided his dick to your entrance. You sighed. There was no reason to beg him not to tease you. He wouldn’t listen either way.

Kevin shoved inside in one hard thrust that brought those stars back to your mind’s eye. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuh,” you moaned.

As suspected, he slipped in easily thanks to the foreplay and you sucking him off. He groaned as he was fully seated and began rolling his hips, giving you long, deep strokes. He grinded in your pussy and you began to shake and shiver on him.

“Throw that shit back like you want it,” he said.

You listened, throwing it back. He was stroking so hard that you couldn’t brace yourself. You dropped down to your elbows and raised your ass higher. He moaned as he stroked deeper, hitting your sweet spot and making your toes curl.

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” you chanted.

“Yeah, I know I’m hittin’ that shit. Bounce it back,” he said.

You moved your hips faster, matching his pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked back. Your head snapped back, a bite of pain on your scalp. “Auh, auh, auh,” you croaked.

His thrusts made your ass clap on him. “Mhm, gripping that shit,” he moaned. He twisted your hair again, yanking your head back a little more and stroking into you with precision.

“Oue, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. “I’m cumming, baby.”

“Cum on then. Cum on this dick so I can nut in this pussy,” he said.

You cried. You exploded. You were ripped apart as the orgasm burrowed through your system. Your legs shook and twitched. Your pussy gripped him tight, making him snug as he pounded.

Kevin continued stroking until he groaned and busted inside of you. Hot pulses of cum signed his name in the crevices of your pussy and you moaned with him.

He slammed inside of you two more times and stilled, panting. He slowly worked his way out of you and you groaned. You immediately flopped onto the bed. Strength left you. Your energy was gone.

Kevin’s quiet huffs let you track him through the apartment. You heard water running and then he was back, cleaning you up. You whined, crying and pushing away from him. He cooed at you and gently cleaned you up.

Sleep tugged at you. You yawned. Kevin returned. You were putty in his hands as he moved you away from the mess you made. “I know another way to warm you up too,” he said.

“Hm,” you sighed.

He chuckled as he got you out of the puddle. You sighed, curling up now that you were in a dry spot. Kevin placed something onto the wet spot and then got in bed with you, pulling your back into his chest. He spread out covers over you.

You had just enough thought to take off your glasses and put it on the nightstand next to you.

His hand came around to rest against your titty, still clad in your bra. He threw one leg over you and your body instantly warmed up. He was a space heater. You snuggled into his warmth and were out like a light, with a giant smile on your face.

The END.

The Secret Kevin Atwater Files

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redflagshipwriter · 2 months

Text

Hot Ghouls Chapter 12 part 1/2

Masterpost

Call me when you’re free!!!!!!

“Geeze,” Danny muttered. “Calm down, Jazz.” Still, he did what she said. He hefted up his backpack, waved goodbye to his shift relief, and dialed her up as he jogged down the library stairs.

“I’ve found two solutions!”

Danny winced at how cheerful his sister’s voice was. “Great!” He tried to match her enthusiasm, despite feeling like something that had been peeled off the sidewalk. He’d ended up working the morning shift on Saturday anyways. “Should I come over?”

“No.” Jazz sounded a little shifty. “I think it’s best if you don’t come over right now.”

“I’m not nuts!” her roommate was faintly audible, as was some kind of repetitive thwap. “We are getting this place fumigated and cleansed and exorcised-

Jazz must have power walked away from poor Tiffany. Her voice faded out. “Ahem.”

Danny pressed his lips together tightly and tried not to laugh. There was a brief space in the conversation where he probably should have said ‘I’m sorry that I made her think your place was haunted.’ But honestly? In a very literal sense, it had been haunted?

“Danny,” Jazz said, in her quiet scary voice, “shut up.”

He shut up even harder than he’d been shutting up before.

She continued in one of her determined tones that meant there was no point in arguing unless it was a hill he was willing to die on. “I am not going to stay in your place because it’s small and scary.”

‘You’re scarier,’ Danny thought mutinously. ‘You’re scarier than anything in my apartment.’

Aloud, he said something else. “Then where?” He did his best to communicate, dummy, via his tone. “I don’t think this is a coffee shop conversation.”

More importantly, he didn’t really have much coffee shop budget. Jazz didn’t have that much either. They were both on scholarships and part time jobs.

“Of course not,” Jazz said practically. “The main Gotham public library is a mid-point and you can rent out a room there for hour blocks. I’ll reserve it online on the way there. I’m halfway to the train station now. What’s your ETA- you just left campus, right?”

Danny looked down at his foot incredulously as he stepped off the final cement stair onto the sidewalk. How did she know that? He looked around dumbly for a know-it-all sister spy plane or something.

“I’ll get a media room from 3-4 pm, that gives you time to stop and get us drinks and snacks. I’ll pay you back, budget of 10 dollars. That sound okay?”

“Fine.” Danny sighed heavily. “Yeah, I can get to that area pretty fast.” He hung up and resigned himself to pushing through foot traffic. He was a lot closer than Jazz was at the moment. He put his head down and ignored the masses of humanity for a little more than 20 minutes of walking. The high lifted roof of the city's main library came into view over the surrounding buildings.

There was a grocery store pretty close by. Danny detoured there and got wrapped sandwiches, chips, and coffees. He hid them all in his backpack just in case the library had a no-food policy.

Then he checked his phone. Jazz had sent him a text telling him the floor and room number in the library. He also had seven missed calls from his parents. That initially freaked him out until he noticed that Dad had sent him a link to an update on the family blog with a string of ghost and wink emojis.

Yeah ok. It wasn't going to be important in the slightest. He ignored his parents.

He jogged the rest of the way to the library and then up the ramp. Danny slipped in the doors and enjoyed the rush of air conditioning. He nodded to the librarian visible from the door and then took the main stairs at an easy pace up to the fourth floor. The rented media room was a straight shot to the back. His sister was waiting to pounce when he opened the door.

“Get back, beast,” Danny said, alarmed. He held his backpack out like it would ward her away.

“Open it!” Jazz demanded.

Holy cow. Uh. He scrambled to unzip it and hold out the plastic shopping bag in offering.

“Gimme gimme, thank you,” Jazz sang and she snatched the snacks from his hands. Danny blew on his fingers pointedly as if her speed burnt his fingertips. She ignored him and unwrapped the ham and cheese at lightning speed.

Oof. Danny kept his fingers a little closer so they didn't get bitten off and side-eyed his big sister as she all but inhaled the sandwich. He popped open the chips bag and ate a couple, feeling a bit freaked out by how ravenous she was. He opened his mouth to comment and then thought better of it.

“Are those for both of us?” Jazz swallowed her sandwich and pointed at the chip bag.

Danny held his hands up and let her take it away. “Geeze,” he said, quietly. He took his own sandwich out from the bag that Jazz had abandoned and ate it at a more normal speed. By the time he'd finished Jazz was content with the chips. He cautiously reached out and fished the bag back towards him. A glance inside showed that she'd left about half.

“So!” Jazz clapped her hands like she had pretensions of being a preschool teacher.

“That body language making you friends at Arkham?” Danny jabbed. He popped a chip in his mouth and crunched down.

Jass casually flipped him off. “Yes, actually,” she said primly. “Dr. Quinn was very complimentary-”

“Before she broke out?” Danny said dryly around a mouthful of chips.

“-and I have formed meaningful clinical bonds with many other patients. But I digress.” She gave him a version of her smug face. She, as always, looked like that meme of the knife cat. “I have two solutions for you.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #red hot ghouls

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

Text

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2426 Ch.1

The Knight is a weird one.

He is looking at you – studying you with his eyes, ever prying, even seeing. He never blinks and you think he doesn’t need it – a walking corpse wouldn’t care to keep his eyes wet, to let his head down and take a few deep breaths to relieve himself. Then, again, a real walking corpse wouldn’t need a maiden to claim and take, a warm body to bring relief to his manhood. You wouldn’t be so sure that he is a walking corpse, a resurrected warrior – the legends are often false, after all, and wild guesses of prostitutes are not to be trusted.

Not like you would know either way – the only path to reveal his not-death is to smell the rot from his skin and, well, it’s out of your reach. The sickness of a few years ago rendered you completely unable to smell anything – you aren’t sure if it’s a blessing in disguise now. Ghost – his name, you think, you heard, the whispers and gossip from the girls who worked alongside you – have been watching you sleep the whole night after he claimed you for the first time. You know because, well, you were watching him too, unable to fall asleep. Not with the gaze that made your blood freeze in your veins. Not with the knowledge that this man can just suck the life out of you, like he did with many of his enemies. You don’t know about this fact, of course – but you don’t want to come and try if the gossips are true. You feel sore, down there. It should be normal for a woman who works in a place like this – but you weren’t a prostitute. Never got interest from men who will pay a lot for a night with a beautiful woman, you were content with simply serving the patrons and the highest bidding girls. Turns out, the sex is…weird. Wet. Painful, but not quite. The Knight was generous in his offers, even as you tried to convince him you didn’t deserve any of it. That you were here just to serve tea, not to… “Lay still, luv. Do you not know what to do?” He pushed a pillow under your hips, making your back arch like a cat in heat. You were presented to him – involuntarily, with his large hands crowding your waist and putting you right where he wanted. Your legs spread and your womanhood glossy from arousal – you knew your fair share of what it comes when a man and a woman share the bed, but you never managed to get into it. To get a man to put something in you, that it. You felt foolish ever coming to the room he rented all for himself. For not running away the second you were put here like a lamb to the slaughter. “I’m not a c…courtesan, kind sir, this is all a…” He pushed his mouth on yours – his mask lifted just barely to let you see the light stubble and scars on his broad, chiseled jaw – before you even managed to finish. His tongue went all out, licking and sucking, making you whimper in the kiss that wasn’t your first, but surely took the crown of being the most memorable one. Surely, cursed knights had no idea about common courtesy. “Good. Wouldn’t hear jabs from Johnny then.” You don’t know who that was but, for some reason, you felt like a dog suddenly brushed against your hand. Perhaps, the lack of air from the steamy kisses made you delirious” But, it was before. Now, with his head propped on one of his hands as he was lying on his side, observing you quietly, like a predator in hiding. His other hand is caressing your shoulder, sometimes going further to play with your hair – surely, he didn’t care for the possibility of waking you up. Maybe, he knows you aren’t sleeping. Maybe, he got his fill and would let you go now. — You need to sleep. The road to my estate is a long one. You drop your act immediately, knowing it is pointless. Perhaps, you should have tried to be an actor instead of a brothel servant – would give you much more useful skills. — Your estate..? Maybe, he was so impressed with your tea-making skills, that he would invite you to be his maid. You may have lost your virtue, but it’s not like you’re interested in marriage anyway. You can live a quiet life, not dealing with anything too harsh, while receiving a nice salary working for the knight. Honorable job, stable job. Something that you should strive for. — You aren’t a courtesan. It sounded like a statement – and besides, you were telling him this before. There is no way he could have mistaken your common, grey clothing with rich gowns that expensive courtesans are wearing. Your manners are off too – the man would have to be blind, deaf and stupid to think that they would send you to him as a girl for entertainment, not servitude. — I’m not, sir.

— Do you have family?

— Do you? He laughs at your unexpected bravery. You close your eyes, expecting something – a kick in the face, perhaps, as many nobles love to do with servants who aren’t polite enough. Maybe, you wait for him to denounce you and finally leave you alone. Maybe, you wait for everything to just be a dream, a beautiful one with steamy scenes straight up from the romantic novels you sneaked out to read. But Ghost is as real as a bed you are sitting on. His hands are on your face, but not in a way you’d come to expect from a man of his position. He is caressing your skin, playing with hair that fell out on your cheeks – and you swear you can see his eyes crinkle with a smile when you struggle to maintain eye contact, your head suddenly feeling heavy and sleepy. Perhaps, the night activities did wear you off. Not enough to make you lower your guars though. — Yes, luv. You’re going to be a part of it. He sounds…sad. Broken, almost. You try to remember all of the rumors you heard about the undead knight, but the only thing you’re capable of thinking about is his resurrection – surely, it would mean he doesn’t have a living family anymore, right? For some bizarre, incredibly weird reason, you reach out for his hand. Not with your palm, too exhausted to actually lift it – but with your face, tilting your head to the side as you press your forehead against his hand in a cat-like manner. His fingers get lost in playing with your hair immediately, and you fight the desire to purr. What a weird sequence of events he brought upon you. He pats your head for a few minutes, allowing you two to sit in silence. You quite like it. — You can’t marry a commoner.

— This isn’t a position for your opinion, doll. — But the madam… — Your madam can push your debt up her snobby arse. I would be bloody glad to end this whole place in a fire. You laugh involuntarily. Surely, he means it – just one look at his eyes reveals a man deeply wounded by the fact, that not even the amount of money he has or the status he holds as the greatest knight of the kingdom will but him affection. Some things cannot be done even for money – and not a single woman in the brothel would lower herself to sleeping with a walking corpse, resurrected by the most evil power in the continent. It’s a good thing you can’t sense the stench of death – and to you, Ghost is just a man. A man with big hands, cold body, and little crinkles in his eyes when he looks at you, so weak and whimpering. A man with money and power, who can get you away from this place. Surely, changing one cage for the other won’t make much of a difference – but you can trade freedom for comfort, especially when the alternative neither brings your freedom nor comfort. There isn’t a single woman who would change her place with you. You find solace in that.

— You can’t just take me away. All of my life is here. — Bloody shitty life you got ‘ere. You will be better off with me.

— As your conqubine?

— As my wife.

Oh. You can’t exactly argue with this proposal. *** He rides you on his horse for the whole day – and it isn’t at all romantic as you thought it would be based on the books. No one has ever written just how smelly horses are – how scary of a creature riders are mounting, and how hard it is to sit on your ass for a whole day. For some reason, you were expecting a carriage – but a lone knight wouldn’t be traveling with an escort, you think. No matter how much of an influence he has over this country.

You were thinking about running away for a few times – when he was making stops to let the horse rest and would slip you on the ground, allowing your agonizing limbs to stretch out a bit. You could escape easily when he got distracted with something – but then you thought about forests, bandits, and the trajectory that your life has taken. You may not like being a pried possession of a dead man, but he by far isn’t the cruelest one out here. Many other patrons of the whore house are much, much worse.

He slips you on his lap when you finally get to a place where you can eat and sleep in peace – his mansion is as big as they come, you think, but the desire to explore is cut short by his hands on your hips. Reminding you of your place like you didn’t already get it the first time. You stir in your place, uncomfortable when he is pushing you down on his throbbing erection – how this could even ride a horse if the only thing on his mind was your soft body pressed against his, your helpless form clinging to him like he was the only protector here.

Ghost is supposed to be on the good side – not an Empire soldier, at the very least, he isn’t taking crying innocent trophies from the battlefield and throwing them in his harem. He doesn’t even have a bloody harem, all the women – and men alike – disgusted by the stench of death he cannot wash away no matter the hours he spends in the bath. But you, pretty maiden waiting for him at this brothel of yours, aren’t like others. Maybe it’s a blessing – maybe the gods finally answered all of his threats and sent him the prettiest angel they had.

No matter, he is still going to make sure to use you properly. Slowly, Ghost picks up food and feeds you – and if he can judge, you aren’t exactly enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your mouth. Probing, touching – you whimper when he pushes a piece of fruit past your lips. Poor thing, he thinks – you need to learn how to treat him with respect. With love, even more, as he wants for you to like him no matter how hard it could be for a dumb little you. — You shouldn’t feed me like this, sir. You’re so polite, so king – the first time a maiden was king to someone like him. The first time a girl isn’t screaming in his hold, trashing, and crying as she feels his hands roaming up her body. Gods, you’re perfect – he can’t wait to introduce you, finally shutting Soap for good. Finally getting something good for himself, after all the years of pure shit. Just wait – he can make an honest woman out of you. Give you estate, money, give you his status and the treatment of a royalty. If Price would feel generous, you’d be a duchess in no time. And, oh he knows, Price will be generous.

— Why not?

Just one look at your open mouth, glossy from drool, at your trembling lips, made him harder than before. He was denied mortal pleasures for so long, he forgot how soft women are – how pretty they look while sitting on his lap. No woman would approach him after the damn Emperor decided to resurrect him – but you don’t have a choice on the matter. But you don’t behave like you want to run away, at least. He wants to think that you will like it here – not because he truly cares about your opinion, but because you’d become sweeter. — It would be a waste. I can’t taste much of anything.

Ah. The lack of smell – he remembers. Poor girl, he thinks, not only did you spend your life serving the courtesans and patrons at the brothel, but you also did so without taking any pleasure in nice fragrances or tasty food. Such a miserable girl – tough luck that you ended up with him, where he physically cannot feel pity for you.

— Hm. There is a downside to your affliction.

— Many people would consider the lack of smell itself a downside. — Not me. You’re perfect. No one has even told you you’re perfect. Not like this, at least. You see a jaded soldier sitting you on his lap, his hands are holding the fat of your hips and kneading it like dough, but his eyes are…warm. Not kind, not gentle, but with the level of obsession that you never thought you’d see in this day and age. You press your head against his chest in a pure instinct – not wanting to be too harsh on your new husband. Not even daring to act like a spoiled brat, even though you were never one to begin with.

He is a lonely man, you know. Angry and cynical, killed more people than you ever known for your whole life – but it all seems so distant, so unreal now. The killings and the wars and resurrections are something from the children’s books. From dark romance novels that you were reading, not from reality. Reality is that you’re sitting on the lap of a man who took you from working in the worst place you could have. Reality is, that you’re sitting on the lap of a very sad, tortured man who might need something nice. Who might give you something nice in return.

Hm.

You might like the sound of that.

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #ghost x reader #dark ghost #yandere ghost #ghost #simon ghost riley #yandere #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere male

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miserycanary · 4 months

Text

MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

Text

This is your brain on fraud apologetics

In 1998, two Stanford students published a paper in Computer Networks entitled “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine,” in which they wrote, “Advertising funded search engines will be inherently biased towards the advertisers and away from the needs of consumers.”

https://research.google/pubs/pub334/

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

The co-authors were Lawrence Page and Sergey Brin, and the “large-scale hypertextual web search-engine” they were describing was their new project, which they called “Google.” They were 100% correct — prescient, even!

On Wednesday night, a friend came over to watch some TV with us. We ordered out. We got scammed. We searched for a great local Thai place we like called Kiin and clicked a sponsored link for a Wix site called “Kiinthaila.com.” We should have clicked the third link down (kiinthaiburbank.com).

We got scammed. The Wix site was a lookalike for Kiin Thai, which marked up their prices by 15% and relayed the order to our local, mom-and-pop, one-branch restaurant. The restaurant knew it, too — they called us and told us they were canceling the order, and said we could still come get our food, but we’d have to call Amex to reverse the charge.

As it turned out, the scammers double-billed us for our order. I called Amex, who advised us to call back in a couple days when the charge posted to cancel it — in other words, they were treating it as a regular customer dispute, and not a systemic, widespread fraud (there’s no way this scammer is just doing this for one restaurant).

In the grand scheme of things, this is a minor hassle, but boy, it’s haunting to watch the quarter-century old prophecy of Brin and Page coming true. Search Google for carpenters, plumbers, gas-stations, locksmiths, concert tickets, entry visas, jobs at the US Post Office or (not making this up) tech support for Google products, and the top result will be a paid ad for a scam. Sometimes it’s several of the top ads.

This kind of “intermediation” business is actually revered in business-schools. As Douglas Rushkoff has written, the modern business wisdom reveres “going meta” — not doing anything useful, but rather, creating a chokepoint between people who do useful things and people who want to pay for those things, and squatting there, collecting rent:

https://rushkoff.medium.com/going-meta-d42c6a09225e

It’s the ultimate passive income/rise and grind side-hustle: It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to discover a whole festering nest of creeps on Tiktok talking about how they pay Mechanical Turks to produce these lookalike sites at scale.

This mindset is so pervasive that people running companies with billions in revenue and massive hoards of venture capital run exactly the same scam. During lockdown, companies like Doordash, Grubhub and Uber Eats stood up predatory lookalike websites for local restaurants, without their consent, and played monster-in-the-middle, tricking diners into ordering through them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/19/we-are-beautiful/#man-in-the-middle

These delivery app companies were playing a classic enshittification game: first they directed surpluses to customers to lock them in (heavily discounting food), then they directed surplus to restaurants (preferential search results, free delivery, low commissions) — then, having locked in both consumers and producers, they harvested the surplus for themselves.

Today, delivery apps charge massive premiums to both eaters and restaurants, load up every order with junk fees, and clone the most successful restaurants out of ghost kitchens — shipping containers in parking lots crammed with low-waged workers cranking out orders for 15 different fake “virtual restaurants”:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/01/autophagic-buckeyes/#subsidized-autophagia

Delivery apps speedran the enshittification cycle, but Google took a slower path to get there. The company has locked in billions of users (e.g. by paying billions to be the default search on Safari and Firefox and using legal bullying to block third party Android device-makers from pre-installing browsers other than Chrome). For years, it’s been leveraging our lock-in to prey on small businesses, getting them to set up Google Business Profiles.

These profiles are supposed to help Google distinguish between real sellers and scammers. But Kiin Thai has a Google Business Profile, and searching for “kiin thai burbank” brings up a “Knowledge Panel” with the correct website address — on a page that is headed with a link to a scam website for the same business. Google, in other words, has everything it needs to flag lookalike sites and confirm them with their registered owners. It would cost Google money to do this — engineer-time to build and maintain the system, content moderator time to manually check flagged listings, and lost ad-revenue from scammers — but letting the scams flourish makes Google money, at the expense of Google users and Google business customers.

Now, Google has an answer for this: they tell merchants who are being impersonated by ad-buying scammers that all they need to do is outbid them for the top ad-spot. This is a common approach — Amazon has a $31b/year “ad business” that’s mostly its own platform sellers bidding against each other to show you fake results for your query. The first five screens of Amazon search results are 50% ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is “going meta,” so naturally, Meta is doing it too: Facebook and Instagram have announced a $12/month “verification” badge that will let you report impersonation and tweak the algorithm to make it more likely that the posts you make are shown to the people who explicitly asked to see them:

https://www.vox.com/recode/2023/2/21/23609375/meta-verified-twitter-blue-checkmark-badge-instagram-facebook

The corollary of this, of course, is that if you don’t pay, they won’t police your impersonators, and they won’t show your posts to the people who asked to see them. This is pure enshittification — the surplus from users and business customers is harvested for the benefit of the platform owners:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

The idea that merchants should master the platforms as a means of keeping us safe from their impersonators is a hollow joke. For one thing, the rules change all the time, as the platforms endlessly twiddle the knobs that determine what gets shown to whom:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

And they refuse to tell anyone what the rules are, because if they told you what the rules were, you’d be able to bypass them. Content moderation is the only infosec domain where “security through obscurity” doesn’t get laughed out of the room:

https://doctorow.medium.com/como-is-infosec-307f87004563

Worse: the one thing the platforms do hunt down and exterminate with extreme prejudice is anything that users or business-customers use to twiddle back — add-ons and plugins and jailbreaks that override their poor choices with better ones:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/29/23378541/the-og-app-instagram-clone-pulled-from-app-store

As I was submitting complaints about the fake Kiin scam-site (and Amex’s handling of my fraud call) to the FTC, the California Attorney General, the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau and Wix, I wrote a little Twitter thread about what a gross scam this is:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1628948906657878016

The thread got more than two million reads and got picked up by Hacker News and other sites. While most of the responses evinced solidarity and frustration and recounted similar incidents in other domains, a significant plurality of the replies were scam apologetics — messages from people who wanted to explain why this wasn’t a problem after all.

The most common of these was victim-blaming: “you should have used an adblocker” or “never click the sponsored link.” Of course, I do use an ad-blocker — but this order was placed with a mobile browser, after an absentminded query into the Google search-box permanently placed on the home screen, which opens results in Chrome (where I don’t have an ad-blocker, so I can see material behind an ad-blocker-blocker), not Firefox (which does have an ad-blocker).

Now, I also have a PiHole on my home LAN, which blocks most ads even in a default browser — but earlier this day, I’d been on a public wifi network that was erroneously blocking a website (the always excellent superpunch.net) so I’d turned my wifi off, which meant the connection came over my phone’s 5G connection, bypassing the PiHole:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/28/shut-yer-pi-hole/

“Don’t click a sponsored link” — well, the irony here is that if you habitually use a browser with an ad-blocker, and you backstop it with a PiHole, you never see sponsored links, so it’s easy to miss the tiny “Sponsored” notification beside the search result. That goes double if you’re relaxing with a dinner guest on the sofa and ordering dinner while chatting.

There’s a name for this kind of security failure: the Swiss Cheese Model. We all have multiple defenses (in my case: foreknowledge of Google’s ad-scam problem, an ad-blocker in my browser, LAN-wide ad sinkholing). We also have multiple vulnerabilities (in my case: forgetting I was on 5G, being distracted by conversation, using a mobile device with a permanent insecure search bar on the homescreen, and being so accustomed to ad-blocked results that I got out of the habit of checking whether a result was an ad).

If you think you aren’t vulnerable to scams, you’re wrong — and your confidence in your invulnerability actually increases your risk. This isn’t the first time I’ve been scammed, and it won’t be the last — and every time, it’s been a Swiss Cheese failure, where all the holes in all my defenses lined up for a brief instant and left me vulnerable:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

Other apologetics: “just call the restaurant rather than using its website.” Look, I know the people who say this don’t think I have a time-machine I can use to travel back to the 1980s and retrieve a Yellow Pages, but it’s hard not to snark at them, just the same. Scammers don’t just set up fake websites for your local businesses — they staff them with fake call-centers, too. The same search that takes you to a fake website will also take you to a fake phone number.

Finally, there’s “What do you expect Google to do? They can’t possibly detect this kind of scam.” But they can. Indeed, they are better situated to discover these scams than anyone else, because they have their business profiles, with verified contact information for the merchants being impersonated. When they get an ad that seems to be for the same business but to a different website, they could interrupt the ad process to confirm it with their verified contact info.

Instead, they choose to avoid the expense, and pocket the ad revenue. If a company promises to “to organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful,” I think we have the right to demand these kinds of basic countermeasures:

https://www.google.com/search/howsearchworks/our-approach/

The same goes for Amex: when a merchant is scamming customers, they shouldn’t treat complaints as “chargebacks” — they should treat them as reports of a crime in progress. Amex has the bird’s eye view of their transaction flow and when a customer reports a scam, they can backtrack it to see if the same scammer is doing this with other merchants — but the credit card companies make money by not chasing down fraud:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/rosalindadams/mastercard-visa-fraud

Wix also has platform-scale analytics that they could use to detect and interdict this kind of fraud — when a scammer creates a hundred lookalike websites for restaurants and uses Wix’s merchant services to process payments for them, that could trigger human review — but it didn’t.

Where do all of these apologetics come from? Why are people so eager to leap to the defense of scammers and their adtech and fintech enablers? Why is there such an impulse to victim-blame?

I think it’s fear: in their hearts, people — especially techies — know that they, too, are vulnerable to these ripoffs, but they don’t want to admit it. They want to convince themselves that the person who got scammed made an easily avoidable mistake, and that they themselves will never make a similar mistake.

This is doubly true for readerships on tech-heavy forums like Twitter or (especially) Hacker News. These readers know just how many vulnerabilities there are — how many holes are in their Swiss cheese — and they are also overexposed to rise-and-grind/passive income rhetoric.

This produces a powerful cognitive dissonance: “If all the ‘entrepreneurs’ I worship are just laying traps for the unwary, and if I am sometimes unwary, then I’m cheering on the authors of my future enduring misery.” The only way to resolve this dissonance — short of re-evaluating your view of platform capitalism or questioning your own immunity to scams — is to blame the victim.

The median Hacker News reader has to somehow resolve the tension between “just install an adblocker” and “Chrome’s extension sandbox is a dumpster fire and it’s basically impossible to know whether any add-on you install can steal every keystroke and all your other data”:

https://mattfrisbie.substack.com/p/spy-chrome-extension

In my Twitter thread, I called this “the worst of all possible timelines.” Everything we do is mediated by gigantic, surveillant monopolists that spy on us comprehensively from asshole to appetite — but none of them, not a 20th century payment giant nor a 21st century search giant — can bestir itself to use that data to keep us safe from scams.

Next Thu (Mar 2) I'll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who's-who of European and US trustbusters. It's livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free:

https://www.brusselsconference.com/registration

On Fri (Mar 3), I'll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival:

https://elevate.at/diskurs/programm/event/e23doctorow/

[Image ID: A modified version of Hieronymus Bosch's painting 'The Conjurer,' which depicts a scam artist playing a shell-game for a group of gawking rubes. The image has been modified so that the scam artist's table has a Google logo and the pea he is triumphantly holding aloft bears the 'Sponsored' wordmark that appears alongside Google search results.]

#pluralistic #victim blaming #fraud #going meta #douglas rushkoff #ad-tech #local search #wix #amex #thai food #business #rent-seeking #entrepreneurship #passive income #chokepoint capitalism #platform lawyers

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rey-129-fan · 4 months

Text

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU

Part 1 | Next

Wow, okay, people seem to really like this. Awesome! Whelp, here's part 2!

“Alright, order. Order.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a Triple Nasty with cheese, extra mustard and pickles.” Laughs rang out at Dash’s remark as everyone settled in to their seats. Sam, who stood at the front of the room by a blackboard, just gave the quarterback a flat look while Danny and Tucker snickered at the teacher’s desk. The group was meeting in an empty classroom at Casper since most were still Casper students, at least for another couple of months until graduation. Jazz and Kyle, both of whom were attending school in Gotham, were dropping in to visit and attend the meeting.

“We are now beginning the first meeting for the Green Amity Co-o-”

“Oh, we are not calling it that!” Paulina cried out. Sam’s eye twitched and started to glow slightly as those around the Latina nodded in agreement.

Jazz quickly stepped in. “While naming something Green in a city that has a known meta Eco-terrorist might not be a good idea, we can discuss names later. For now, let’s focus on more important matters for the co-op.”

“Right,” Sam sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “So has everyone had a chance to look over the info and pictures Jazz and Kyle were able to gather?” Getting various conformations, the goth nodded. “Does anyone have any objections on using the building as a Gotham based co-op?”

“Not really.”

“Nope.”

“None from me.”

“Okay, so we’ll put down an offer to buy the building,” Sam nodded before shuffling around some papers in her hands. “Next on the agenda is rent.”

“Won’t we own the building? Why would we need to pay rent?” Dash asked. Kwan nodded while several others in the group just dropped their heads.

“Because we need to pay for things like utilities and taxes,” Valarie shot back, arms crossed as she stared down her former friend group.

“Not to mention that we should collect some money for potential repairs that will be needed in the future,” Wes added, nodding. Dash turned and glared at both of them.

“As Val and Wes said, we may own the building, but we still need to gather money to pay for things like water, electricity, internet. Things needed to make the building usable,” Jazz explained in a less condescending tone, mullifying the blond.

��So we need to figure out how much each utility is and split it between everyone, with a little extra on top to make a fund for repairs?” Danny clarified.

“That is a start, but some people will use more of some things than others.”

“Well, we can always start with it and adjust as we get a better idea of how much it costs and who uses up what amount,” Star said as she stood up and walked over to the board. She picked up a piece of chalk and began writing down numbers. “Do we know how much we have to pay for property tax? From what I could find on the internet, the average cost of utilities in Gotham is about $118 a month, give or take.”

“That lines up with what I saw too, though that doesn’t include internet or phone plans,” Val nodded.

“Well, our phone plans aren’t likely to change, so we don’t need to worry about that. Most internet plans start about $40 a month,” Tucker added. Star nodded and added the 40.

“As for property taxes, given the building’s estimated amount, it would be about $15,900 a year, which is paid quarterly.”

Star continued writing. “So 15,900 a year is 1325 a month. We currently have 11 people, so that’d be 120.45 per person per month just in taxes.”

“So utilities plus internet and taxes would put us at about $242 a month.”

“Don’t forget insurance and repairs. Gotham isn’t the safest place, what with all the supervillains,” Danny added.

“Never mind random ghosts dropping in just to fight Fenton. We’re probably going to have to repair the place more often than the average,” Kwan nodded.

“Hey! Don’t pin the property damage from ghost fights on me! It’s mostly the GIW doing that!”

“We know, Danny, but you can’t deny that there are going to be at least a few ghosts that will come just to fight, and the GIW are likely to follow them.” Danny crossed his arms and grumbled, but conceded.

“We should just double the amount we have for now. That way we can cover the basics and have enough to cover anything that could come up, while most can afford it with a part-time job,” Tucker suggested.

“It’s a start,” Jazz agreed.

“And if we need to adjust it, we can always discuss it again,”Mikey pointed out.

“Alright, so all in favor of starting rent at $485 a month, raise your hand.” Sam counted the hands in the air. Eleven. “Very well. Up Next: rules.”

“Oh come on! We’re no longer kids and are going to college! Why would you wanna create rules?!” Dash protested.

“Just because we’re adults now doesn’t mean that there aren’t still rules we have to follow,” Jazz responded. “Pretty much any place you could live would have quiet hours and cleanliness requirements. Plus I’m pretty sure there are places or things that you wouldn’t want others to mess with.” More grumbling was heard but no more protests. “Now, from what I’ve observed and read on the internet, in general quiet hours are generally between 10-11 pm to about 8 am during the week, with it rolling back an hour on the weekends. I don’t need it to be that strict, but I would like to have some quiet by the time I’m going to sleep.”

“What exactly do quiet hours entail? Is it like a curfew?” Mikey asked, pushing up his glasses and looking at the two actual college students.

“Nah man, they’re just the hours you have to be quiet for. Ya can do whatever ya want, so long as yer not disturbing anyone or keeping them up. Just don’t do anything that’ll get the cops or Bats on ya, and yer good,” Kyle explained.

“Sweet!”

“So what should these quiet hours be? Not going to lie, but midnight seems like a good start, especially if you have early morning classes,” Wes spoke up.

“Midnight is good for me.”

“Aw, but what if we want to have a party!”

“Well, if you start at 8, that gives you four hours,” Sam explained, raising her eyebrow.

“A 4 hour party seems to be enough, especially since not all of us would want to have a crazy party outside our door all night,” Val stated, glaring at Dash and Paulina.

“It seems common consensus is quiet by midnight. What about when they end?”

“Well, most of us will likely have classes starting by 9. Including travel time and getting ready, we’re likely to be up around 8 or so. That’d give us 8 hours of quiet to study and fall asleep.”

“So midnight to 8 am for quiet hours? Any objections?” None were made.

The meeting continued on in much the same way, with only a few protests to some rules, mostly related to shared chores and the creation of a chore schedule. But these protests were quickly silenced by a glare from Valarie that slowly glowed a slight red the more protests were made.

“Alright, I think we’ve covered everything we set out for today’s meeting,” Jazz said, tapping some papers against the desk she sat at. She took over the meeting as Sam grew more annoyed. The goth was now sitting between Danny and Tucker, who were both offering small touches of comfort. “Remember, if you have any questions, share them in the discord server. And if you have any suggestions for a name, please feel free to send them to Wes, who will compile them into a poll so we can vote on them in a week. Now, would anyone like to add anything else?”

A few mutters and shakes were the answer.

“Very well, that concludes this meeting. Hope everyone has a good summer, and when we next meet, hopefully, it should be in our new building.”

***

Did I seriously just write 1363 more words of set up? Yes, yes I did. I have no regrets. We should be in Gotham starting next chapter and get up to the shenanigans then.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there! I started writing this while I was baking a pie for my own mother.

I am going back and forth on whether Phantom Planet is canon or not, but either way, all of Amity Park knows about Danny in this, but not the outside world, and especially not the GIW. While I do read a lot of bad parent Maddie and Jack, I much prefer to have them as good parents that love and accept both Danny and his little clone/cousin/sister.

Sorry guys, but Bruce is not adopting either Phantom.

Again, feel free to leave suggestions for names for the Co-op, as well as for this little AU itself. Also, suggestions for shenanigans and powers our liminal teens might have outside just glowing eyes.

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ltash · 2 months

Text

Chicago

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader 'oneshot' approx 7k words

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Sexual theme, angst

You lived alone in an apartment in a high-rise building in Chicago. The sprawling cityscape, dotted with glimmering lights and towering structures, was both a symbol of your dreams and the weight of your burdens. You worked at a local food chain to make ends meet and pay your college fees, but it was getting harder day by day. Rent increases, rising grocery prices, medical expenses, and college fees all took a toll on you. You were a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes, innocent and pure. You never drank and rarely went to nightclubs. Your focus was on your studies and your job, but life was becoming increasingly difficult.

One evening, after pulling an all-nighter to finish an assignment, you arrived at work a few minutes late. The familiar scent of frying oil and the hum of the kitchen greeted you as you rushed through the door, apron in hand.

The manager, Mr. Thompson, a stern man with a graying mustache and a permanent frown, was waiting for you. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were cold. "Andrea," he called, his voice flat.

You felt a lump in your throat as you approached him. "Yes, Mr. Thompson?"

He glanced at his watch pointedly. "You're late."

You swallowed hard, the weight of your exhaustion pressing down on you. "I'm so sorry, sir. I had an assignment, and I—"

"I don't care," he interrupted, his tone icy. "This isn't the first time. You know the rules. You're fired."

"But sir," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "I really need this job. I have college fees, and rent, and—"

"Not my problem," he cut you off again. "You should have thought of that before being late. Clean out your locker and leave."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, stunned. "Please, Mr. Thompson. Just give me one more chance."

He shook his head, unmoved. "No more chances. You're done here."

The words echoed in your mind as you slowly turned and walked towards the back of the kitchen to gather your things. Your coworkers cast sympathetic glances your way, but no one dared to speak up. You stuffed your uniform into your bag and took one last look around the place that had become a second home to you, despite its harsh realities.

As you stepped out into the chilly evening air, the reality of your situation hit you like a freight train. You were jobless in a city that didn't care, with bills piling up and no safety net to catch you. The city lights, once symbols of hope, now seemed like distant stars in a cold, indifferent sky.

Ghost and his team were in the city to terminate Hassan, who was hiding in a nearby building. As night fell, Ghost left his hotel, blending into the city's shadows. He wore his usual uniform: a black windbreaker jacket and blue jeans. A sniper case hung on his shoulders, discreet but unmistakable to those in the know. He was a British Special Air Service operator, and US General Shepherd had given him the order to terminate his target.

While Soap, Price, and Garrick made their way to the adjacent building where Hassan and AQ soldiers were hiding, Ghost entered your building.

You were sad and depressed after being fired. Tears welled in your eyes as you stood in the elevator, a delicate chiffon floral dress hugging your curves. The day's weight pressed down on you, your mind lost in the swirl of worries about rent, college fees, and your future.

Just then, the elevator door slid open, and another man entered. You kept your gaze on the floor, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his skeleton gloves. They were striking and unusual, sending a shiver down your spine. The air felt charged with a strange tension as the doors closed, enclosing the two of you in the small space.

The elevator continued its ascent, each floor ticked off like a countdown to some unknown fate.

His eyes tracked your every small movement, taking in your saddened demeanor. He noticed the tear that you tried to discreetly wipe away, and for a moment, a pang of pity for you registered in his gut. However, he quickly squashed it. He was on a mission, and empathy had no place on the field. Yet, he found himself unable to look away from you, a strange attraction he couldn't quite comprehend.

Ghost let out a sigh, his voice surprisingly soft and calm compared to the usual gravelly tone he used in the field. "Rough day?" he asked, his head slightly tilted, watching you closely.

Your gaze remained fixated on the floor. You didn't have the courage to see who he was. "Yeah," you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You could say that."

He nodded, understanding the weight in your tone. "Sometimes it's like that," he said, his voice still gentle. "But you'll get through it."

You swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. "Thanks," you managed to say, still not looking up. The elevator continued its ascent, the silence now feeling a bit more bearable with his presence.

The ding of the elevator signaled the arrival at your floor. As the doors slid open, you hesitated for a moment, then finally looked up. The man’s face was partially hidden by a hood and a mask with a skull pattern, his eyes dark and intense but not unkind.

"Take care," he said, giving you a small nod.

You nodded back, stepping out of the elevator. "You too," you replied, your voice a bit stronger now. As the doors closed behind you, you felt a strange sense of reassurance, a small spark of hope ignited by a chance encounter with a stranger.

As the elevator doors slid closed, cutting off his view of you, Ghost was left with a pang of... something he couldn't quite place. He mentally reprimanded himself. What the hell was he doing? He had a job, a mission to complete, and he was getting sidetracked by a civilian's problems.

But as he watched the floors climb on the elevator's display, he couldn't shake off the image of your sad face, the sound of your soft voice. It was like a ghost lingering in his mind, refusing to be ignored.

Ghost took a deep breath, trying to refocus. He had been through countless missions, seen and done things that would haunt most people for a lifetime. He was trained to compartmentalize, to set aside distractions and emotions. Yet, something about this brief encounter stuck with him.

He reached his floor and the elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Ghost stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, his senses immediately sharpening as he focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to let anything else interfere with the mission.

As he moved silently down the hallway, his mind returned to the mission briefing. Hassan was a high-value target, and this operation was crucial. But even as he mentally recited the details, a small part of his mind drifted back to you.

Shaking his head, Ghost pushed those thoughts aside. There was no room for distraction. He approached the window at the end of the corridor, checking his surroundings before positioning himself with the sniper rifle. He could see the adjacent building where Soap, Price, and Garrick were already in position.

"Ghost, are you in place?" Price's voice crackled in his earpiece.

"Affirmative," Ghost replied, his voice back to its usual gravelly tone. "In position and ready."

"Good. Let's get this done," Price said, the determination clear in his voice.

Ghost settled into his role, his eyes scanning the building opposite through the scope. His mission took precedence, but somewhere deep down, he knew he wouldn't forget the brief encounter in the elevator. And perhaps, once this was all over, he would find himself wondering about the girl with the sad eyes and the floral dress.

Ghost focused intently on his target, waiting patiently for the signal to take the shot. His thoughts drifted to the girl in the flowery dress, but he quickly shook them off, refocusing on the task at hand.

The streets below were relatively quiet, considering the late hour. A few cars passed by occasionally, and a group of drunk young adults stumbled down the sidewalk, but other than that, the area was still.

In his earpiece, he heard Price's steady voice. "Soap, you got eyes on Hassan?"

"Affirmative," Soap replied. "He's on the move. Heading to the rendezvous point."

Ghost's eyes followed the movement in the building across from him. Through the scope, he spotted Hassan, surrounded by a few AQ soldiers. The tension in the air was palpable as he steadied his breath, preparing for the shot.

"Ghost, you ready?" Price's voice was calm but urgent.

"Ready," Ghost confirmed, his finger poised on the trigger.

"Take the shot," Price commanded.

In that split second, everything fell into place. Ghost's focus was razor-sharp as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, a silent symphony of precision. Hassan dropped, the mission objective achieved.

"Target down," Ghost reported, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Good work, Ghost. Soap, Garrick, secure the area," Price instructed.

As his team moved in to secure the building, Ghost allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. The mission was successful. But as he packed up his gear and prepared to exfiltrate, the image of the girl in the elevator crept back into his mind.

You sat on your bed, tears streaming down your face. The landlord had given you a week's notice to leave the apartment because you couldn't pay last month's rent due to your tuition fees. On top of that, your job was gone. You saw the street down the window, knowing you would soon join the homeless community. But how could you survive being homeless? A gorgeous girl like you—it was so dangerous.

You thought it was your end, and you gave up. The weight of despair pressed down on you, suffocating and relentless. The idea of ending your life seemed like the only way to escape the overwhelming pain and fear. You decided to go to the roof to perform this deed, hoping for a final release from the relentless pressures and uncertainties.

With slow, heavy steps, you made your way to the elevator, your heart pounding with a mix of dread and resignation. The ride up felt interminable, each floor passing by like a countdown to your final moment.

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out onto the roof. The night air was cool, and the city lights twinkled below, indifferent to your suffering. You walked to the edge, your breath hitching as you looked down.

As you stood there, contemplating the final step, you heard the faint sound of footsteps behind you.

After terminating Hassan, Ghost stood on the top floor, his eyes scanning the city below from the high-rise building. The mission was complete, but his mind wandered back to the brief encounter in the elevator. Suddenly, the ding of the elevator snapped him back to reality, and he saw you stepping out, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Before he could say anything, you headed towards the staircase.

Concerned, he followed after you, moving quickly but silently. He watched as you went and stood near the wall, then moved to the edge. The intent was clear, and his heart raced as he realized what you were planning to do.

"Oi!" he called after you, his thick British accent echoing in the open space. "The hell are ya doing up there?"

You froze, your heart pounding. "Don't come closer or I'll jump," you warned, your voice trembling with fear and determination.

Ghost's mind raced. He knew he had to act quickly. Utilizing his training and stealth skills, he moved with a silent, practiced precision. In a swift, calculated move, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pulled you close, away from the edge.

You gasped in surprise, your initial reaction one of fear and resistance. "Let go of me!" you cried, struggling against his strong grip.

"Easy," Ghost murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. "I've got you. You're safe now."

You fought for a moment longer before the reality of your situation set in. The warmth and security of his embrace contrasted sharply with the cold, hard edge of the ledge. Slowly, you stopped struggling, collapsing into his arms as the overwhelming emotions took over.

Ghost held you firmly but gently, keeping you anchored. "It's alright," he said softly. "You're not alone in this. We'll find a way to get through it."

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your sobs wracking your body. The despair that had driven you to the edge began to ebb away, replaced by a fragile glimmer of hope.

Ghost guided you to a safer spot on the roof, never letting go of his protective hold. Once you were both seated, he loosened his grip but stayed close, his presence a steady anchor in your storm of emotions.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly, his eyes full of concern.

"Andrea," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Andrea, I'm Ghost," he said, his tone gentle. "You're going to be alright. We'll figure this out together."

He brushed a hand gently across your hair, trying to soothe your sobs. "Just breathe, Andrea," he murmured, his voice gravelly, yet strangely comforting. "In and out. In and out."

As your sobs gradually subsided into soft hiccups, Ghost continued to hold you, his hand moving in gentle, comforting circles across your back. He could feel the tension leaving your body, replaced by a weary exhaustion.

He waited, giving you time to collect yourself, before speaking again. "You mind telling me what brought you up here tonight?" he asked quietly.

"My manager fired me from my job because I showed up late. I have been burning the midnight oil finishing my assignment and juggling between job, studies and work. I couldn't pay my rent last month so I have to leave my apartment within a week." You sobbed softly.

Ghost listened quietly as you explained the series of unfortunate events, his expression remaining stoic but his eyes revealing a flicker of understanding.

"That's a lot to deal with all at once," he responded, his voice still calm and steady. "Anyone would feel overwhelmed in your situation."

"I need to go back to my apartment." You said softly.

Ghost nodded, understanding the urgency in your voice. "Alright, I'll take you there," he said. He stood up, then reached out a hand to help you to your feet. "Can you walk?"

"Yes. I can." You looked at him, his eyes held a lot of stories.

As you took his hand and stood up, Ghost noticed the look in your eyes, the curiosity and interest that seemed to say you sensed something deeper about him.

He led you towards the staircase leading back downstairs, his hand still supporting you. "This way," he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind.

As you both made your way through the dimly lit building, Ghost's mind raced with questions.

"So," he asked, breaking the silence, "you were planning to jump because of your current situation?"

"Yes. I was planning to end this misery once and for all." I nervously tucked a hairstrand as I walked with him towards my apartment.

Ghost's eyes narrowed slightly as he heard your response—he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern.

"You'd really consider ending everything over a shitty job and financial troubles?" he asked, his voice a little gruff.

You slowly opened your apartment door to reveal a spacious apartment, tall windows showing the nightlife down. Grey curtains hanging over them. It was lavish to say the least.

Ghost stepped into your apartment, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a cool, calculated gaze.

He turned to look at you, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Nice place," he commented flatly. "Didn't realize a fired worker could afford this level of comfort."

"I wasn't fired until today." You replied closing the door and leaning against it.

"Right," Ghost responded, still looking around the apartment. He noticed the way you leaned against the door, exhaustion and defeat written all over your expression. "But you said you couldn't pay the rent. You're getting evicted, right?"

"Yeah. Soon. Have to say goodbye to my place. I will be homeless sooner or later. My college fee is quite a lot. Either I pay the fees or rent." You sat on the couch in front of him across the coffee table.

Ghost took a seat in a chair across from you, his eyes fixed on you, studying your every movement.

"So why are you still going to college then? If you can't pay the fees or the rent, seems pointless to keep dragging this on," he asked bluntly.

Ghost looked at you with surprise that flickered across his face for a moment, then his expression returned to its usual stoicism. "Criminal Psycology, huh?" he replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "And then you'll join the CIA?"

He paused for a moment. "Yeah, coffee would be nice," he said with a brief nod.

You stood up and went towards the coffee maker. After preparing two cups of coffee. You handed him a mug. Your soft fingers brushing his gloved hand subtly.

As your fingers brushed against his gloved hand, Ghost felt a sudden, unexpected rush of warmth.

He took the mug quietly, careful not to react to the contact, though his dark eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief moment. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice rough.

"You are welcome." You crossed your legs. The skin of your thighs shining in the light. "What were you doing on the roof, Ghost?" You asked.

Ghost's eyes flicked down towards your exposed thighs for a moment before he quickly diverted his gaze back to your face.

"I was... on a mission." he replied, his voice carefully neutral.

"What mission exactly?" You asked.

Ghost took another sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on yours, as if trying to gauge how much he could reveal. "Can't really say," he said gruffly. "Classified, you know?"

"It's fine. No need to tell me. Are you in the British military, by the way? Your badge says Taskforce." You swirled the coffee gently.

Ghost was a bit taken aback that you had noticed his badge.

"I'm a part of Task Force 141," he confirmed, his voice still guarded. "British army."

"You made a saluting gesture. Thanks for your service Captain." You giggled.

Ghost couldn't help but let out a huff of surprise at your giggling, and for the first time since meeting you, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"It's Lieutenant, actually," he corrected, his voice still gruff but with a hint of amusement. "And you don't need to salute me, lass."

"Lieutenant! Very impressive. Its not easy to be a part of the best elite force. It takes great courage and bravery." You said as you stood up to put the cup on the counter.

Ghost watched you as you walked to the counter, his gaze lingering on the curves of your body as you moved.

He quickly looked away and took another sip of his coffee, trying to ignore the thoughts that were beginning to swirl in his mind. "Don't need no praises, love," he grunted. "Just doing my job."

"So, your mask is part of your job? Isn't it?" You stood near the window and looked at him smiling.

Ghost tensed slightly when you mentioned his mask.

"You're full of questions, aren't ya?" he retorted gruffly, setting the coffee mug down on the table forcefully. "And yeah. The mask is part of the job. Keeps my identity hidden."

You smiled shyly. "How stupid I am that I don't even know the real name of my saviour." You leaned against the glass window.

Ghost's eyes darted up to meet yours, his expression unreadable. He felt a strange mix of annoyance and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Don't need to know my name," he grumbled, shifting in his seat. "Saving you doesn't mean you get to know my life story."

You were so embarrassed. "It's ok." You looked away.

Ghost saw the look of embarrassment on your face and instantly regretted his harsh tone. He often forgot how his bluntness could come off as rude.

He got up from the chair and walked over to where you stood. "Hey," he said, his voice soft. "Look at me."

You went to the kitchen and filled yourself a glass of water. Tears were welled up in your eyes. Sitting on the kitchen counter, you started drinking water.

He followed you into the kitchen, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. It was unlike anything he'd seen before.

He moved towards you, his footsteps quiet against the kitchen tiles. "Hey," he said again, gentler this time. "You alright?"

"Yeah. I am fine. I have always been fine. Never drank, never partied, and never had relationships. I have always been on my own. Fine as hell." You blurted out.

Ghost leaned against the counter opposite you, his dark eyes studying you silently.

"You don't sound fine," he responded, his tone still gruff but not unkind. "Sounds like you're tired of being strong and of being alone."

"Doesn't even matter." You choked on your emotions. You looked at him before you threw your head back, closing your eyes in defeat as you placed your hands on the counter beside you. Your legs slightly parted. You looked absolutely ravishing.

For a moment, Ghost's gaze travelled down towards your legs, parted slightly on the counter, the dress riding higher up your thighs.

"It does matter," he replied gruffly, his voice lower than usual. He clenched his jaw, trying to push down the unexpected attraction he was feeling. "Don't say it doesn't."

You closed your eyes, letting the remaining tears fall. "Some people are broken, and I am one of them. Always in war with myself." You whispered.

Ghost listened to your words, feeling a pang in his chest. He knew that feeling all too well, the constant internal battle with oneself.

He took a step closer to you, his voice quieter than before. "You're not broken," he said, his gaze fixed on your face. "You're just battle-worn."

"I am looking for my blood on people's hands. Those who hurt me were my own. That is why I live here, all alone." I looked at him with my wet eyes.

He slowly reached out and laid a hand gently on your knee, his touch surprisingly tender. "Who hurt you?" he asked, his voice gruff but with a hint of protective anger.

"My own parents, my siblings, nobody is here for me. I am on my own. Left to rott in this city of souls." You whispered.

He moved closer to you, his body suddenly too close to yours. He could almost feel the heat radiating off your skin and smell the faint scent of your perfume. "You're not alone," he said firmly, his voice low. "Not anymore."

He removed his hand from your knee and slowly moved it up your leg, his touch light but electrifying. The feel of your skin under his fingertips was almost intoxicating, awakening feelings he thought he had buried deep down.

His hand reached your inner thigh, the heat from your body seeping through the thin material of your dress, making him want to touch more of you, claim more of you.

He was standing between your legs. You shuddered on his touch. A gasp escaped your lips.

Ghost smirked slightly at the gasp that escaped your lips, the sound sending a jolt straight to his groin. He moved even closer to you, his hips pressing against your inner thighs as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above your ear.

"You like that, luv?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

"What are you doing?" Your shuddering voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled lowly, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. He moved his hand higher, his fingers tracing circles on the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"What does it look like I'm doin?" he asked huskily, his other hand coming up to cup your chin, tilting your face towards his.

You fell on the counter leaning against your elbows, your eyes dazy, you take shallow breaths looking at him.

He lifted his hand to your face, his fingers tracing the contour of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "You look perfect like this," he murmured, his voice rougher than ever.

He could sense your inexperience, yet it only made him more attracted to you. You were untouched, pure, and he wanted to be the one to take you, claim you, make you his.

He moved his hand from your cheek to your hair, his fingers threading through your locks, holding your head still as he leaned in even closer. "You're a bloody angel," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

He lowered his mouth to your neck, his lips gently trailing kisses along your skin, his teeth nipping at your pulse point. His hand moved down to your hip, his touch firm and possessive.

He pulled you close, your sensitive spot though a thin fabric away rubbing on the rough fabric of his jeans. You fell completely on the counter, your hips rocked gently, and a scream escaped your lips. Your hands clutched the counter hard.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice hoarse with lust. He moved his head to the side, his lips finding the sweet spot on your neck, his mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses on your skin.

He placed his lips on yours, taking them in a passionate kiss. His hand tugged at the front of your dress as he pulled the front strap gently, losing it. He took off his gloves. His hands glided your outer thighs as he gently peeled off your panties. Down and up smoothly gliding from your legs.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, his breath ragged as he pulled his mouth away from yours. "Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body, the dress now loosened at the front.

His hands now moved higher to the soft mounds of your breasts teasing and pinching your nipples, his touch more possessive than ever. He lifted you gently, his strength clear, and set you down on the counter, positioning himself between your legs.

He leaned in, his mouth near your ear. "I want to fuck you right here, right now," he growled, his voice like a hot, primal rumble.

He brought his hand to your chin, lifting it up to make you look at him. His intense gaze locked with yours, his eyes dark and hungry. "Say yes," he commanded, his voice a low, gruff murmur. "Say you want me as much as I want you."

"Yes, Sir!" Your voice trembled.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and filled with desire. He ran his hands up your sides, rubbing the buds of your nipples, the dress gathering around your hips as he explored every inch of your body.

His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping between your legs, touching you intimately. He felt the heat and dampness between your legs, causing him to draw in a sharp breath. "Fuuuuck," he groaned, his eyes closing briefly.

As Ghost removed the mask, his face was unveiled for the first time to you. Sharp, harsh lines defined his features, a scar running down one side of his face, but somehow, that only added to his rugged attractiveness.

His eyes, a dark stormy grey, met yours, the intensity and raw desire in them clear and unapologetic.

A whimper escaped your lips as you saw him. He pulled your hair back, tilting your head back. His finger rubbing gentle circles around your clit.

He continued to touch you, his fingers circling and rubbing, all the while watching your reactions, a smirk playing on his lips. "You like that, don't you?"

His other hand, still holding your hair, tugged gently, tilting your head backwards even further. He leaned in, his mouth just above yours, his breath hot against your lips. "Answer me," he ordered, his voice a low, guttural rumble.

"Yes!" Your voice broken in desperation.

He captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you thoroughly. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling your head back more.

His fingers pushed deep inside you, eliciting a small gasp from your lips.

Your body arched, you let out a throaty scream as you arched your back. Your pussy clenched against his fingers.

The sound of your scream, the feel of you clenching around his fingers, was enough to drive Ghost even further over the edge. He growled, his eyes locked on your face, his breath ragged.

"Ahhh! Fuck." Your moan echoed. His fingers stretched you as he continued moving them in and out.

It drove him wild. He upped his pace, his fingers moving into your pussy faster, deeper, making you moan even louder. The sounds you were making were driving him insane.

"You feel so good," he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all bloody night."

His lips moved over your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. He nipped at your skin, his teeth scraping against your sensitive flesh.

At the same time, his fingers continued their relentless pace in your cunt, his touch becoming rougher, more demanding. He felt your body responding to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your muscles clenching and trembling.

"Such a needy little cunt for me." He whispered.

His words, rough and guttural, sent a shockwave through you. His hand in your hair tightened once more, and he tugged your head back, exposing your neck to him.

"You like it when I talk like that, huh?" he whispered against your ear, his voice a low, primal growl. "You like being my little needy...thing?"

He felt your body shudder and convulse, your pussy clenching as you came undone under his touch. His eyes, dark and intense, watched your face as you rode out your climax, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

His fingers continued to move within you for a few moments more, prolonging your pleasure before he slowly withdrew them. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "Bloody hell," he murmured, "you're bloody perfect."

His eyes widened slightly as he saw the sight of your blood on his fingers. He brought his hand closer to his face, looking at the crimson staining his skin.

His eyes darkened, his expression unreadable, as he looked up at you. "You're a virgin," he stated quietly, his voice a mix of surprise and something else.

You nodded slowly.

He leaned in, his hands on either side of you, trapping you against the counter. "And you want me to be your first?" he asked, his voice soft yet intense.

You nodded again.

He studied your face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

He leaned in closer, his mouth hovering just above your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "You have no idea what you're asking of me," he whispered, his voice guttural. "I'm not a gentle man."

"It's ok." You whispered.

His eyes darkened at your words, the raw desire in them nearly blazing.

"No, it's not," he replied, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "You're untouched, pure. I'm anything but."

His hands moved to your hips, his grip tight, almost possessive. "You deserve someone gentle, someone who can be tender with you," he continued, his voice gruff yet tinged with reluctance.

"I don't need anyone but you." You whispered

"Don't say that," he said, his voice ragged, almost pleading. "You don't know what you're saying. I'm not the hero in a fairytale, and I'm definitely not the type you take home to Mom."

You slowly sat, "I don't have a mom to take you to her, and I don't care what you do. You already touched me, and I am already so far there is no going back."

Ghost's eyes narrowed as he watched you, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation.

He closed his eyes, his head tilting back as if in defeat. "Damned woman," he muttered, his voice a low, guttural grumble.

"Let me love you." You whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes at your words. Raw, painful vulnerability mixed with something he wouldn't, or couldn't, let himself be loved.

"I don't know how," he muttered, his voice a ragged whisper. He looked at you, a mixture of self-pity and longing in his eyes. "I don't know how to let myself be loved. I don't even know if I deserve it."

"Beating yourself up for taking lives, you were compulsive to do things as a soldier. Its not your fault. Its not easy what you do. It changes you, it makes you a sadist but I saw you beyond that mask when you saved me from committing suicide. This mask doesn't define who you really are. You are just hiding behind it. Hiding from your true self. Ghost."

His eyes widened as you voiced his innermost thoughts, his mind reeling from the raw truth of your words. No one had ever seen him the way you did, had ever come close to understanding the turmoil and guilt that haunted him.

He swallowed hard, his usual aloof and stoic demeanour falling away, replaced by a vulnerability he couldn't hide.

"How can you see me? How can you see through all of this?" he murmured, gesturing to the mask and his military uniform.

"It takes a broken soul to understand another. Though I don't do what you do but I am broken in ways I can't be put back together now." I whispered cupping his face.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if savouring the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

"You're not broken," he said, his voice a ragged whisper. "You're just dented, like me. But you've survived. And that's more than a lot of people can say."

"You deserve to be loved like every other human. Don't keep running like that. You can keep running, but you can't hide from your true self. I know your true self may be buried somewhere in you. I will just have to take it out." I whispered.

He opened his eyes, the raw vulnerability in them almost too much to bear.

He looked away, his jaw clenching as he tried to suppress the maelstrom of emotions swirling within him.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he warned, his voice a gruff whisper. "If you really knew who I was, the things I've done..."

"If you cannot come to terms with what you do, just leave it or accept the truth. Not many can do what you can. It takes nerves of steel, but someone has to do it and that someone is you. Don't beat yourself cus it's your duty to your country. You are not a war criminal just protecting your country."

He let out a derisive laugh, the sound bitter and humorless.

"Duty," he repeated, the word as foreign on his tongue as a confession. "That's all it is. I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore. It's just kill or be killed, day in, day out."

You slipped down the counter and wore your dress again.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with tension.

"We are done. We cant be together." You said raising your hands in surrender.

His face darkened, a mixture of anger and hurt flaring in his eyes. "Why not?" he demanded, his voice taking on a hard, stubborn edge.

"Cus you cant understand a word I am trying to say." You tried to explain.

His jaw clenched tight, his fist fisting at his side.

"Maybe it's you who doesn't understand," he snapped. "You think you can just waltz in here, talk about love and acceptance, and change me? You don't know the first thing about me. About what I've been through."

"What do you even want from me? Just my body?" You yelled.

He closed the distance between you, his body towering over you, his presence menacing and intense.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "That I only want your body?"

"I want to give you my soul, but you are not accepting." You took a step back.

"I know what I am saying. I cant bicker anymore. I dont have the energy."

His eyes softened slightly at your words, the hardness in his expression giving way to a hint of gentleness.

But the stubborn, closed-off part of him refused to let go. "You're just going to give up?" he asked, his voice a frustrated grumble.

"Yes. Just like you dont wanna be loved." You spat.

His jaw clenched tight at your words, his eyes narrowing.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice harsh and defensive. "It's not that I don't want to be loved. I just..."

He trailed off, his words catching in his throat. He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze.

"Cat got your tongue now?" You jabbed.

He scowled at your jab, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Shut up, woman," he snapped, his voice gruff and irritable. "You're asking too much of me. You're asking me to open up, to let you in, when I've spent my entire life keeping people out."

"Why did you come here then?" You snapped back.

His expression darkened as if your question had hit a raw nerve.

"I didn't come here for this," he muttered, his voice a low, guttural murmur. "I came here because... because…"

He trailed off, struggling to find the words, his usual icy demeanor faltering slightly.

Because.....?

"Cus I can't stay away from you."

He muttered the words, as if the admission was wrenched from him against his will.

You nearly lunged at him, wrapping your legs and arms arms around him and crashing your lips onto his.

For a moment, he was frozen in surprise, your sudden display of affection catching him off guard.

But then something primal, something primal and possessive, flared within him. He wrapped his arms around you, hauling you closer to him, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce, almost desperate kiss.

He put you on your bed. Tearing your dress apart, he took off his shirt and jacket.

"I need you please. I can't let you go." You pleaded.

"Just take me, rock me, throw me around, have your way. Anything just to be close to you. " Tears welled up in your eyes.

"This won't be soft or gentle," he warned, his voice a ragged whisper. "I'll take what I want, and I won't stop until I'm done."

"Do it." You pleaded.

Part 2 link.

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azure-cherie · 1 year

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𝐏𝐀𝐂 : 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ🌔☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ🌕☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ🌖☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

• what are they ?

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Pile 1-2-3-4

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Pile 1 :

• what are they ?

I believe you have the gift of claircognizance , your thoughts are vivid and sometimes in them lie the messages for the future, you receive downloads and ringing in your left air . A lot of you here might belong to the lemurian starseed . You also have the ability to ward off evil , like getting into the room and sensing that their is a spirit around and doing something to get rid of them . I get the image of an African priestess in my mind . Your astrology is also so on point , don't doubt yourself, you're going just right.

• how to use their full potential ?

What I get for you is observe more , you're too busy thinking and doing that you can't sit in a place and just plainly wait on life , enjoy the silence , try guided meditations, they will help you unlock what truly you are capable of . I see literally purple eyes , you must be really powerful like really. You might also have relations with the element thunder , if not just know you are potent during thunder storms .

• advice from your guides .

This is general advice . Your guides say first of all that pay your rent and clean your study or table beside you . Go out with your family. Don't contemplate on the issue that that's occurred with you and your senior or boss , it will calm down and it's not even your fault so chill for now, get some coffee and talk to an old friend or lover to feel better .

Pile 2 :

• what are they ?

Your abilities surround recurring visions in your dreams and telepathy, your dreams are very significant and vivid and i believe the higher power you believe in uses this method to communicate to you , not just about yourself but also the people around you . I believe your mom also may have the same ability and it has been passed through generations. Your telepathy is something you have developed because of separation from someone, since then i heard you have been doing it consciously or unconsciously

• how to use their full potential ?

You need to sleep with knowing and wake up by trying to remember what actually happened while you were asleep , when you try to get into this , you'll get insights on what will happen and things about your own soul , just write down what you have to remember. I think you should also do some candle manifestation to remember. Touch old books or things just to see if your abilities are working, what do you infer about the owner of the book .

• advice from your guides .

Very soon you'll be getting something big , like fame or money , you'll become famous for your craft or your face , the way you carry yourself effortlessly, you'll get modelling contracts, you have worked really hard and it will pay off , your guides are really proud of you and I'm so happy for youuuu coz finally your dream of being rich and famous will be all yours , now go baddie have some butterscotch ice cream.

Pile 3 :

• what are they ?

Your spiritual gifts relate to summoning energies and entities, fighting in the astral , and clairsentinence . I feel you also get shivers around entities . Some of you talk to walls and your home spirits hear and guide you . You also might get a bit frightened from your abilities, it's understandable no one wants to go around seeing ghosts but you know you have this gift for a reason so believe in what the universe has planned for you , stuff will unfold so beautifully for you i promise

• how to use their full potential ?

I get that you should use crystals , you also need to work on your confidence to handle greatness you need strength and you have that I assure you , you just need more to feel safe and secure . Believe in the power of touch , don't hold back your feelings okay , just because someone can't handle your emotional range doesn't mean you should decrease yours alright.

• advice from your guides .

This is general advice, Your guides are letting you know that if you have been wondering if you should make an altar for the Deity in your mind , yes they want to connect to you , I get something about peach colored flowers and cork of a bottle , i hear Dionysus as well , don't hold back you got this . Clean your room and talk to your siblings they need you right now .

Pile 4 :

• what are they ?

Your spiritual gifts surround Clair audience , you maybe an empath . Your gift in itself is to bring radical change in people's life , you are a spiritual awakening for people, showing them their path is your mastery . Reiki , healing and tarot are also something you are blessed with . Your inner light is really so radiant , that it brightens the entire room . Talking to you for a while brings realisations , that's why you really have to protect your energy !!!!

• how to use their full potential ?

Stop helping idiots with your gifts , okay i see some people are not at all grateful about what you do for them , whatever you are doing for someone ungrateful is also energy wasted, instead ask your intuition if this is worth it , go to an old age home and seek homage from the old , it will help you . Practice methods of protection and grounding.

• advice from your guides .

This is general advice. Moisturize your skin and do your projects or paper work soon , study , i feel they are telling you to finish your work now because later there's some occasion and you won't get time to focus on these things . Take a trip alone maybe somewhere near or far wherever possible . Learn cooking, it will help you in the long run

I hope this helped and resonated 🌕

Wishing you a great day / night ahead ;))

#pacreading #pac reading #pac readings #pac #pac tarot #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a card #tarot card reading #tarot deck #tarot reading #intuitive tarot reading #intuitive reading #intuitive readings #tarot community #witchy #psychic

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mrsparrasblog · 6 months

Text

STRIPCLUB GHOST

I think he wouldn't go to a Stripclub in the Canon but my brain was working again lel. You can find more on my A03: Mrsparras

Moving to England to study abroad has always been your biggest dream since you were a child, so when you graduated and were old enough, you did it. You blessed Erasmus that you wouldn't have so much debt—well, at least you thought so, but in the end, you couldn't make ends meet.

So you decided to search for a job that you could do while studying that also fit with your busy schedule, so you started to work in a strip club in Soho under the promise that you would only be a waitress and nothing more.

You stood behind the bar counter wearing the skimpiest clothes you had and prepared drinks, and to your surprise, it was fun. Even watching the stripper from far away gave you straight-up BI panic; they were also beautiful and mature.

Surprisingly, you even got a lot of tips despite not dancing half-naked around the pole. The customers all called you Angel; being the youngest and most unattainable had its perks.

One day there was a new customer who wore a Ghost mask and was a brick house of a man. He was nice to you despite looking scary.

"Come on, Bunny, tell me why you are doing this," he asked while you served him a glass of his favorite Bourbon. He was nice, always left you a good tip, and was generous. So you didn't feel the urge to lie to him; why should you?

"I need to pay bills; food and rent are expensive in Manchester."

"I see," he said, leaving this time a 60-pound tip on his 18-pound Bourbon.

"Sir, it's too much."

"It isn't Bunny; buy yourself something nice with it, okay?"

And you did buy yourself a proper meal after a long time of only eating pasta with pesto, and it was delicious.

The next day, when you went to work, you got an offer from your boss: 500 pounds for a private striptease, 120 pounds more if it turns into a lapdance. You never wanted to do this; you couldn't dance, and you were insecure about your body. But it was easy money, and you could always bottom out if it was too much for you.

"The man left this costume for you behind." Your bodyguard gave you a bunny costume with bunny ears, white soft lingerie, and a bunny tail. Oh god, what a freak. Problem No. 2: It was at least 2 sizes too small, making your tits almost fall out.

You were curious to find out who specifically requested you, and when you walked into the private room, you saw Ghost. You were smiling; you knew you could trust him, and you would lie if you said you didn't develop a crush on him the last few weeks when he slowly became your regular.

"Ghost"

"Bunny"

"So, um, do you want me to dance?"

"I want you to be comfortable, but yes, I would love watching you dance."

So you began to dance awkwardly at first, but then you enjoyed it, dancing around provocatively, shaking your ass a bit in his reaction, and he enjoyed it. The half-hour stopped, and you were a bit sad.

"It was fun, Ghost."

"It was Bunny."

You thought it would be the last time you did this, but when your bodyguard told you Ghost requested you for the rest of the week, every day your vagina made this weird butterfly-clenching thing. You would dance for him every day.

So you began to dance with him every day, even being bolder and giving him a lap dance. You touched his strong abs while circling your hips around him. You were afraid that the fabric wasn't thick enough to hide your throbbing cunt.

"Love, please don't move," he whimpered.

You looked at him in confusion and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Bunny, no, just don't move."

You felt his massive erection under you, and you grinded against him again. "Do you mean because of this?"

"Stop it. I don't want to use your poverty for my gain."

"Did you call me a prostitute?" You asked him, feeling completely furious, and you would have fucked him even despite the money.

"No Bunny I'm just saying you're too good for me, okay? Im a dirty man; men like me aren't made for little sweet girls like you," he said before leaving you in utter confusion, horny, and alone.

You didn't think he would return the next day, but he did, and you refused his cash this time before going to the private suite with him.

"Why do you refuse my money? You need it, and I have enough of it."

"I don't want you to see me as a prostitute."

"I could never see you as less than an angel."

This time you didn't strip for him; you just sat on his lap and talked. He told you that he works as a police officer, even though you thought this was a lie, and you told him all about your native country, how you moved here, and how you loved it.

"All I'm saying is I don't think sex is good enough to pay for it," you claimed while laughing. The erection pressing against your thighs was something you already got used to.

"Then you were with the wrong men before Bunny; sex is great."

"It's okay"

He laughed, "You never had an orgasm before ?" his fingers trailed down on the thin fabric of your pants.

You blushed immediately and shook your head, grinding against his fingers for the smallest friction.

"That explains why you are so desperate, Bunny," he chuckled and left.

The next day, one day before your day off, you went to work again, instinctively walking to the private room where he already sat, this time shirtless. He was the picture of a perfect man with strong abs, and a blonde happy trail down to his thick erection that was only covered by his briefs.

"Sit down and give me a lapdance, please, Bunny."

You sat down on him, but this time he grinded against you, not you against him. You would love that sudden change, but you were a bit mad that he left you yesterday after calling you desperate.

"Tell me you want me, and I'm all yours."

"I don't want you," you lied to him.

"I think you want this, bunny. Don't lie to yourself." He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I can see it in your eyes. You want me to fuck you hard and make you scream."

"No"

"Yes, you do," he insists, pulling down your costume to expose your bare ass. His hand traces the crack in your ass before dipping between your cheeks, pressing against your entrance. "Admit it, bunny. You want me inside you."

"No, I don't want you," but your body betrayed your stubborn act. You were soaking wet and a moaning mess for him. He was so hot and big, and all you wanted was to let him take care of you. Let him show you what a real man is.

"Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you regret it." His fingers begin to probe, seeking entry into your tight little hole. "Tell me, bunny. Have you ever been taken like this before? Fucked raw by a real man." He laughed at you, his voice sounding mean and dominant to his usual nice behavior. Maybe he had a stressful day, but did you care about what made you so lucky today?

"Good," he growls, finally pushing past your resistance and forcing his middle finger inside you. "Because I'm going to make sure you scream for me." His other hand moves up to grope one of your breasts through the costume, pinching the nipple hard.

"Oh fuck, Ghost."

"That's it, bunny. Let me hear you," he demands, adding a second finger to stretch you wider. His thumb rubs over your hardened nipple as his fingers thrust deeper, searching for that sweet spot inside you. "You like that?"

"No," you moaned.

"Lie to me again, and I'll gag you," he warns, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop. "Now tell me the truth." He grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

You were thinking of lying again only so that he could gag you, but you needed him right now more than you needed anything in your life before. "Yes"

"Good girl," he praises, lowering his mouth to capture one of your nipples in a hot, sucking kiss. His other hand slides down between your legs, rubbing against your pleading clit.

"You've never felt anything like this, bunny?" He purrs against your skin, "You just want me to shove my cock inside you and claim you as mine, don't you?" He already knew the answer, and he was determined to give you your real first orgasm.

"I never felt like this before, Ghost."

"That's right," he agrees, standing up and pushing your legs apart. His hot breath is fanning across your wet folds as he stares down at his prize. "You're going to feel even better when I'm buried balls deep inside you."

Your pussy clenched and throbbed, and now he saw the evidence of your lust.

"You see, bunny," he says with a chuckle, "your body knows what it wants." His thick cock is at your entrance now, slowly pushing inside. The head teased the tight ring of muscles before finally breaking through with a small groan from both of them.

"Oh god, it's too big." It was bigger than the dildo that you had at home, but you liked the burn and to be filled.

"That's because you've never had a real man inside you before," he growls, starting to thrust deeper. Each movement hits your sweet spot and makes your insides clench around him. "You like that, don't you? Feeling my cock stretching you out?"

"Ghost, im going to cum," you whined as he started to stroke your hard nub while he fucked you restlessly.

"Good," he says, picking up the pace. His hips slam against yours as he takes you hard and fast. The chair creaked under their combined weight. "You're mine now, bunny," he pants out between moans. "Say it."

"Im yours, Ghost," you moaned. He continued the abuse on your pleading clit, leaving soft hits on it before starting to circle it again how you liked it. He read you like a novel that needs to be analyzed. He tried to interpret every movement of yours and intesed his flicks against your clit until you finally came, screaming and crying. Your head fell against his neck, and you bit it like a feral animal. Fuck you thought what has gotten into you.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, he leaned down to kiss you roughly. His free hand squeezes one of your breasts as his cock continues to pound into you. "This is how a real man fucks." Simon picks up the pace even more, grinding against you as his hips smack against your perfect ass.

The head of his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, again and again, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Fuck,"

"Ghost, please." You started to whimper, being completely cock drunk.

"Please, what, bunny?" he asks between moans. His thrusts become even more erratic as he loses control. "Do you want me to cum inside you?" he asked while his eyes turned darker at the thought of claiming you as his, his little innocent bunny.

"Yes"

"Yes, bunny?" he asks teasingly. His free hand left your breast to snake down between your legs, teasing at your clit. His cock is throbbing inside you as he takes you harder than ever before.

"Yes, yes, please." You started to beg, and you felt a bit pathetic.

"Yes, what, bunny?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Cum inside of me, Ghost."

"You want me to cum inside you, bunny?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His thrusts become even more erratic as he nears his climax. "Tell me how much you want it."

"So much, Ghost," you whined.

"Tell me you're mine," he demands, his voice laced with need. His cock is throbbing inside you as he reaches his peak, filling you with his hot cum. "Say it, bunny." You were in orgasmic bliss, clenching around him as he erupted inside of your willing womb. You took everything of his big cock and cum so eagerly, almost greedy, afraid someone would steal it from you. I'm yours."

"Tomorrow at 8 p.m., I will pick you up; we are getting dinner."

You looked at him confused, and he only chuckled, "Did you think I fucked my perfect girl and let you leave then? No, we are going out; well, only if you want to go on a date with this old perverted dog."

"It depends on whether you are ugly behind the mask."

"Quite the opposite, love."

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