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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 5 months

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Baby Let the Games Begin

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 3

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.1k words

Warnings: Language, drinking, almost-nice moments ruined by Roy being Roy

Roy slouched in his chair and looked over the lineup, trying to focus his attention on Nate and Beard’s ideas after the previous night’s match. His mind kept wandering back to the club, to the lipstick stain he’d washed off his face when he got home way past his bedtime, to the way she’d danced too close to him, to the knowing looks the guys had been giving him all morning.

As his hand absently brushed over his cheek, Dani’s smile filled the doorway. Behind him, a few guys popped their heads in, looking far too eager for an early morning that followed a late night of drinking. “Good morning, Coach!” Dani chirped.

“Hmmph.” Roy nodded in acknowledgement. “Rojas.”

The striker strolled into the office casually, as if mischief wasn’t written all over his face as he eyed his coach. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Roy shrugged. “Fuckin’ guess,” he mumbled, slouching further into his chair. “You?”

“Everyone had a great time.” Dani’s smile grew as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “In fact, someone had such a great time, she asked if I could give you this.”

The little slip of paper contained numbers- numbers that were already in Roy’s phone, actually. It took Roy a moment to comprehend the looks of awe on his players’ faces and the excitement on Dani’s. Oh, fuck, right.

“Wow.” Roy lifted his eyebrows, giving his best surprised look. “Me? You’re fucking serious?”

Dani’s face softened. “She liked you,” he teased. “It was very obvious. She could not stop smiling after you danced together!”

Roy nodded, praying he looked thrilled enough to satisfy the guys. “Yeah, no, it was fucking cool.” He cleared his throat and stuffed the phone number into a desk drawer. “Guess I’ll give her a call or some shit-”

“Morning, fellas!”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Keeley squeeze past the guys to enter the office, wearing a little dress and that big smile of hers, the one that could knock Roy over any day of the week.

“Don’t you lot have training to get ready for?” she teased. As the guys left, all shouting out their congratulations at Roy- as if he did something worth congratulating- she turned her attention to the gruff manager. “Can we chat when you have a second?”

Roy nodded stupidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He nodded to Dani, who was the last to leave. “Thanks again, Rojas. Really.”

Once Dani shot Roy an exaggerated wink and strolled back into the changing room, Keeley whipped out her mobile. “Excellent job last night, Coach.”

She perched on the desk and showed Roy her screen, which featured a photo of Roy and a certain pop princess on the dance floor, huddled close and smiling at each other. If Roy didn’t know any better, he’d think they looked like two people in the early stages of falling in love.

With a small cough into his closed fist, Roy nodded. “Yeah, well. Glad we did a good job or whatever.”

Keeley stuffed her mobile back into her pocket. “Seriously, you two look great together. I was scrolling through some of the comments, and her fans are already obsessing over you. They’ll be calling you ‘Dad’ by the end of the month.”

“Dad?” he repeated, practically spitting the word out. “Why the fuck would they call me Dad?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Keeley explained with a playful eyeroll. “Sometimes they call her ‘Mum’, and if they like her boyfriend, they call him ‘Dad’. Trust me, you want them to call you that. It means you’ve got their approval. And once you’ve got the fans onboard, the good press will follow.” She gave Roy a friendly little punch, the small touch leaving his skin burning. “Keep up the good work, Roy-o.”

As he watched her leave, Roy sighed to himself. Dad? What the fuck had he signed himself up for?

“D’you want a beer?”

“Sure.” I handed April my credit card. “And bring me a hot dog or something?”

I had dragged April along to my second Richmond game, insisting that I needed someone to chat with while I was supposed to be fawning over Roy Kent. As I waited for her to return with the drinks and snacks, I tugged at the sleeves of the Richmond sweatshirt April had bought for me. This whole thing was weird, so damn weird. My siblings had texted me about the photos of me and Roy Kent at the club- which they had seen thanks to my baby brother’s Google alert on me- and had teased me about my sudden “interest” in soccer. Of course, I’d played coy and said I was just supporting Dani Rojas, that Kent and I had just danced a little, and that he seemed nice. Of course, they didn’t see the way I wrinkled my nose as I texted those things.

Suddenly missing them, I sent a selfie with the pitch behind me, joking that the Dog Track was my new home. As I hit the Send button on our group chat, rousing cheers informed me that the team was coming onto the pitch. I cheered along with everyone else, this time adding some other names to Dani’s, like Colin and Isaac. Jamie Tartt lit up when he saw me, blowing a playful kiss. I waved coolly, keeping an eye out for-

There was that smirk. Roy raised his eyebrows when he saw me, looking pleasantly surprised despite the fact that Keeley had made sure to tell him exactly where I’d be sitting. I leaned back in my seat and raised my hand in greeting, hoping my smile and wink were playful and, more importantly, caught on someone’s camera. Roy tapped two fingers to his temple, saluting me, before turning to his team. I had to give him credit for his acting; from my seat, he almost looked like he was blushing.

“You see your man?” April’s voice was full of teasing as she resumed her seat and handed me a beer.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip before taking the hot dog she offered me. “My man,” I scoffed. “He’s not my man.”

April raised her eyebrows at me. “Not yet,” she hummed quietly. She nudged me. “You two’ve got chemistry. Even at a distance, there was some sort of spark or lightning strike or whatever you want to call it when you looked at each other.” She leaned in close to whisper, “You sure there’s not a real attraction there?”

“Do I need a new assistant?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at her. She knew I didn’t mean it; it was my way of telling her she had succeeded in getting under my skin, one of her favorite pastimes.

Sure enough, she chuckled and nudged me playfully. “I’m just saying,” she teased. “Believe me, you could do a lot worse.”

I snorted and stole one more glance at the scowling and shouting Roy Kent. “Wanna bet?”

Roy tapped the side of his beer as he stared at the entrance to Ola’s. The team had decided to grab some dinner together after their match, and Dani had invited his friend to join them. The guys were tittering and shooting him what he assumed were supposed to be sly looks, which he repaid with scowls and eyerolls.

Those sly looks only got worse when the door opened and Dani led two women inside. Roy watched as the Greyhounds tripped over each other to re-introduce themselves and ask how the women liked the match. She was pretty fucking affable, Roy noted as she complimented Cockburn on his game-winning goal and laughed at whatever joke Moe Bumbercatch made. He found himself wondering how someone like her, someone who smiled so easily and seemed to have no problem charming a room full of people, could wind up with a reputation like hers, known only for the men she ran around with and the drama her “friends” dragged her into.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted Roy in his huddled little corner, almost bright enough to fool him into believing she was happy to see him. She grabbed the other woman- who Roy now recognized has her personal assistant- by the hand and pulled her away from the Greyhounds, not stopping until she stood in front of Roy, all flirtation with those batting eyelashes and that coy smile.

“Great job today, Coach,” she said with a wink.

Roy leaned back, keenly aware of the eyes that had followed her to his table. “Guess I was right about you being good luck,” he hummed with what he hoped was a flirtatious grin. “Glad you came today.”

“Me too.” She tugged the other woman closer to her. “This is my assistant, April,” she introduced, as if Roy hadn’t met the woman in Keeley’s office that very first day. “April,” she murmured, eyes still on Roy, “this is Roy Kent.”

April smiled and reached out to shake Roy’s hand. “Lovely to meet you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

A small giggle had Roy’s ears turning red. “Stop,” the popstar whined, sounding like a teenage girl. “Go find a soccer player to flirt with, alright?” She gave April a playful shove before sliding into the seat beside Roy. Her smile remained in place as she leaned in close, looking like she was flirting and murmuring soft enough for just him to hear. “You see the photos of us online?”

Roy cleared his throat and nodded, unable to look directly at her and instead choosing to stare at his beer. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw them.” He took a sip, desperate for something to keep him distracted from how fucking close she was sitting. “Looks like the plan’s working so far.”

Her little hmmph confirmed that she agreed with him. After a moment, she nudged him; Roy’s shoulder practically burned at the contact. “You should probably, I don’t fucking know, talk to me or something?” She raised her eyebrows. “We’re supposed to be into each other, remember?”

With one of his heaving sighs, Roy forced his shoulders to relax as he finally met her gaze, a gaze that was far too attentive. “You… enjoy the game?”

Fucking hell. Was this what the next six months of his life would be like? Awkward small talk with someone who was just as disinterested in him as he was in her? Being two fish in a bowl with eyes on them all the time? Tonight, at Ola’s, it was the Greyhounds; soon it would be all of Nelson Road, and all their friends and acquaintances, and the fucking paparazzi, and all the people who’d be attending her highly anticipated European tour in the summer. Not to mention the very real possibility that one of them could find someone they were actually interested in (Roy had seen the way Jamie eyed her when she walked in), and then they’d be in a whole new mess of ending the “relationship” and dealing with blurry timelines and drama.

While Roy’s mind raced, she nodded, all at ease. “I did, actually, even though I don’t watch soccer very much.” After wrinkling her nose, she paused, eyeing him carefully, as if debating her next words. “Think I could take a picture with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Roy choked out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden request.

“A picture,” she repeated slowly, a smidge of impatience dripping from her voice. “Like a selfie. I might not like soccer, but my brothers and nephews are big fans.” She took out her phone and laid it on the table. “And I learned recently that you, Roy Kent, are a pretty big fucking deal. So, if I send them a picture with you, I’ll finally be the world’s coolest sister and tía.”

Roy couldn’t help the snort that flew out of his nose. “Being one of the biggest popstars in the fucking world isn’t enough?”

She cracked a small smile. “Nope. To my brothers, I’m still just the little princess who always cried to get what she wanted.” She picked her phone back up. “So, are we taking a selfie, or do I need to get the waterworks going?”

That was… well, that was kind of funny, Roy decided. Funny enough that he didn’t argue with her, at least. Instead, he shrugged and leaned in close, reminding himself that he was supposed to look like he was interested in this woman, after all. “Take the fucking picture then,” he grumbled, mostly good-naturedly.

Almost as if she understood that this was as friendly a response as Roy Kent could give, she opened her camera. Roy was amused at the image on the screen; she had a nice smile, he admitted to himself. It was the same one he saw on album covers, the same one she offered the Greyhounds, the same one she flashed the paparazzi. Just cheesy enough to be endearing, while still holding something glamorous. Looking at the image of that smile, Roy didn’t have much choice but to give his own closed grin, coming out cool and cocky-looking, the way one would expect a retired athlete to smile with a beautiful popstar.

She quickly snapped a couple of pictures before lowering her phone, chuckling as she sent one to what Roy assumed was a family group chat. “Thanks,” she murmured, giving Roy a nod. “Like I said, they’re finally almost impressed with me.”

The gears in Roy’s head turned for a moment. “Could you send me that?” he heard himself ask. When she tilted her head at him, he cleared his throat. “My niece, she’s… a fan. And if I show her that picture, she’s going to absolutely lose her shit.”

“Anything to make a kid lose their shit.” She quickly tapped away on her mobile; Roy’s own phone buzzed a moment later. “She your only niece?” When Roy only stared at her blankly, she shrugged. “Might as well learn some shit about each other, if we’re going to be dating.”

“Right,” Roy breathed, again noting how fucking close she was sitting. “Yeah, she’s my only niece. It’s just me, my sister, and her.” After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to ask her a question. “And you’ve got… brothers?”

She nodded, relaxing into her seat, shoulder grazing Roy’s arm. “Four brothers and a sister,” she added. “I’ve got one younger brother, everyone else is older. And I’ve got…” She counted on her fingers for a moment. “Eight nieces and nephews. My oldest niece just turned fifteen this year. We’re having her quinceañera this summer.”

“That’s the big fucking party, right? I remember Dani going back to Mexico for his cousin’s birthday, it looked like a fucking wedding.”

Her raised eyebrows looked almost impressed. “Yeah. I’m pretty excited to go home for it.” She paused, thoughtfulness crossing her face. “We’ll probably still be together,” she murmured. Her eyes were unreadable.

“Keeley’ll probably make me go then,” Roy grumbled. “Fucking hate flying all the way to the States.”

“And we’ll have to go to all the way to Los Angeles,” she added with a dry chuckle. “Eleven hours stuck on a plane together, there and back. Can you imagine anything worse?”

Roy’s eyes flittered across the restaurant to Keeley, who sat cozily with Rebecca, giggling and chattering. His chest ached, reminding him that, if Keeley asked, he’d spend twenty-four hours on a plane with this woman, no hesitation. He’d do fucking anything for Keeley.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “I fucking can’t.”

“Crown and Anchor,” I mumbled to myself as I read the sign over the pub Roy had suggested we meet at. Keeley has urged us to go ahead with our first “public outing”; she’d left it up to us, but suggested something low-key enough to look real, as if we weren’t trying to catch people’s attention. After I offered to let him pick the spot, Roy had texted me the address of some pub not too far from the stadium; apparently, he’d be coming straight from work.

Sure enough, when I found him at the bar, he was wearing what I assumed was his ‘coaching uniform’: Greyhounds shirt, track pants that hugged his thighs, and sneakers. He nodded when he saw me, hand wrapped around the beer he was already half finished with.

Ignoring the stares of a small group seated at a table behind Roy, I leaned into Roy, relieved that he immediately wrapped me in a one-armed hug- a casual, friendly gesture, perfect for two people just starting a romance. He took my arm to help me onto the stool beside him and gestured to the barkeep, an older woman who eyed me carefully.

“You’re-” She stopped, raising her eyebrows at Roy. “Good for you, Roy Kent.” She leaned on the counter, offering a friendly smile. “What can I get you, love?”

I eyed Roy’s half-finished drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

With a smile, the barkeep quickly poured me my own beer and placed it in front of me. Roy absently tapped his glass to mine with a small clink! before taking a long drink.

“Tough day of training?” I teased before sipping my own glass; shit, would I ever get used to drinking beer that wasn’t ice-cold?

He shrugged, eyes focused on the amber liquid in his glass. “Long is more like it,” he grumbled. “Especially now that the idiots are smirking and winking at me all the time, giving me looks like they fucking know something.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, almost playfully. “It’s all your fault, you know.”

“My apologies,” I huffed, trying not to laugh at his stony expression. My eyes landed on the darts on one end of the bar; Roy’s gaze followed.

“Want to play?” he asked, chugging the last of his beer and motioning for the barkeep to pour him another one. “Keeley said shit like playing games looks cute in photos.”

The word cute did not seem like one that should be coming out of Roy Kent’s mouth, but I ignored how humorous it sounded. “I don’t know how to play,” I admitted. “We used to have a dart board when I was a kid, but after my brother got hit in the arm, my mom made my dad take it down.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, studying me. “I could teach you.” He shrugged. “If you like.”

I glanced at the dart board. “Why the fuck not?”

With a hmmph, Roy grabbed our beers and led me over to the game, setting our drinks on a nearby table before grabbing the darts. He handed me one, careful not to let our fingers brush. “Go on,” he said, nodding to the dart board. “Want to see what I’m fucking working with.”

I stared at the dart in my hand, wincing at the embarrassment I was about to endure and preparing myself for the expletives and mockery that would surely come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. Finally, trying to reach back over twenty years in my memory to the last time I had thrown a dart, I reached back and gave what I hoped was an acceptable toss; I groaned when I saw the dart bounce off the wall far from the target and fall pathetically to the ground.

Roy retrieved the dart wordlessly and returned, mouth in a straight line as he stared at me harshly. “You’re the one that fucking hit your brother, aren’t you?”

Setting my face as expressionless as his, I folded my arms. “No comment.”

A smirk almost broke through. “Your publicist has you well-trained,” he quipped as he handed me the dart. “Better show you how it’s done before you fucking kill someone.” His eyes zeroed in on the dart in my hand for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Here, stand like this.”

Roy stood next to me, motioning for me to adjust my feet. After I mirrored his stance, he turned to stand behind me, hesitating before taking my hand, the one I held the dart in. When I turned my face to his, he was gazing at me with raised eyebrows.

“This alright?” he whispered.

I nodded, holding back the urge to gulp. “Anything for the cameras,” I joked, forcing my body to relax against his. “Get ready to trend on Twitter, Kent.”

With a hmmph, Roy pressed his chest to my back, his body warm and weirdly comfortable, and lifted my hand. “And you pull back like this,” he breathed. “And…” He moved my arm in a swift motion. “… Release.”

The dart hit the board only about an inch away from the dead center.

“Holy shit!” I squeaked, pretending I didn’t see the young couple in the corner of the pub pointing their phones in our direction. “Roy!” I jumped into his arms, acting as though learning to throw a dart was some lifelong dream.

“What the fuck are you-”

“In the corner,” I hissed in his ear. “They’re recording us. Act cute.”

Grunting, Roy wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug that lifted me off my feet, keeping his hands on my hips once he set me down. “Think you could do it on your own now?” He furrowed his brows and lowered his voice. “Or should we do that again?”

I thought for a moment. “Probably one more time,” I said quietly. “For the camera.”

“For the camera,” Roy agreed, letting me go so he could grab another dart to hand to me. “Right, so stand like before…”

Once again, his chest felt warm pressed against me, his heartbeat thumping against my back. When he took my hand in his, I observed how large his hand looked around mine, realizing I’d be holding it a lot in the coming weeks. Just like before, Roy pulled my hand back and guided it, instructing me when to let go. This time, my dart landed dead center.

In spite of myself, I turned to Roy with a giant grin. “Fucking bullseye, Kent!”

He wore a crooked smirk and held up his hand for a high-five. “Not bad,” he hummed as I slapped his palm. “Ready to try it on your own?”

Playing darts with Roy Kent wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, I conceded. We sipped beer and took turns throwing darts, with Roy giving me pointers now that I was throwing on my own; he even admitted that I was a quick learner. In between throws, we’d glance up at the television playing soccer highlights; Roy mumbled about the men running around on the screen, telling me a bit about the players he knew, the ones he tolerated and the ones he hated. I listened carefully, realizing that, if I was going to be “dating” a soccer legend, I should know a thing or two about the game. I should also try to start calling it “football”, I thought to myself.

“Alright,” I declared after posting a photo to my Instagram, per Keeley's instructions. “I’m going to the restroom, when I get back, we play to see who’s paying the tab.”

It was the closest thing I’d seen to a full smile all night. “You’re fucking on. And I’m ordering another pint, because you’re paying.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and waved as I headed towards the restrooms. Shit, I thought to myself. I’m actually enjoying myself.

As I washed my hands before returning to the bar, I tilted my head at my reflection. Tonight was kind of fun, I admitted. Maybe, just maybe, Roy Kent and I could actually be friends. Maybe these next few months of fake-dating didn’t have to be complete torture. Maybe we’d have a good time hanging out and spending time together. Maybe-

Despite all my grumblings about this plan, I grinned at Roy as I approached him at the dartboard, where he leaned against the wall and frowned at his phone. When he didn’t look up, I cleared my throat.

“Ready to lose?” I teased.

Finally, Roy looked up at me. “Hmm?” After a moment, he shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. “I should head home,” he grumbled, slamming his glass onto the table. “Got fucking training in the morning. Early morning training with fucking Tartt.”

I glanced at my watch. “It’s only sev-”

“I said I should head home,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Already paid the tab.” Without another word, he placed his hand on my lower back and steered me out of the pub, pausing only to offer a half-hearted wave to the barkeep, who smiled warmly at us on our way out the door.

“What the fuck, Kent?” I hissed as we stood on the curb in front of a giant black car. “Did something happen? I thought-”

The man growled and fished a set of keys out of his pocket. “I’m fucking old,” he muttered. “I have a bedtime on worknights. Get used to it.” He nodded to the monstrous vehicle behind him. “D’you need a ride home?”

Resisting the urge to fold my arms across my chest defiantly, I shook my head. “I can walk,” I mumbled. “Or call a car if I get sick of walking.”

“Fine.”

It felt like hours as we stared at each other, Roy’s lips parted as if he were about to speak. Finally, I nodded curtly, trying to keep my own expression relaxed, as if the man hadn’t just done a complete 180 in the time it took me to use the restroom.

“I’m going to kiss your cheek,” I whispered as I took a tiny step towards him. “Since this was a date and all.”

“Fine,” he repeated, leaning towards me.

Just like at the club, my lips brushed against his warm cheek, his beard tickling my face. I flashed him my best smile, the one I usually saved for men I actually liked.

“Goodnight, Kent,” I managed, taking a step back.

He nodded brusquely, not quite meeting my eye. “Goodnight.”

With that, he climbed into his car and drove off, leaving me on the curb with a few questions and a long walk home.

Roy stared at his phone as he walked into the Dog Track, as if he thought that doing so would change the Tweet that had distracted him the night before. While waiting for his “date” to return from the loo, he’d scrolled aimlessly on the app, looking for anything interesting in football news. When he saw the post with two names he knew all too well, his stomach had dropped.

He and Jamie Tartt didn’t have any sort of agreement, per se. But they both seemed to respect each other’s feelings for Keeley ever since the night they showed up on her porch and were properly scolded. The three of them had formed a close friendship, one that seemed to center mostly around doting on Phoebe and avoiding any mentions of dating and romance. Sure, Roy knew that Keeley and Jamie hung out sometimes, just like Jamie knew Roy and Keeley did the same. But seeing it online, linked with the idea of the two getting back together, had Roy gritting his teeth as he entered the already chatty changing room.

Despite knowing this conversation was better suited for a pub with some beers than their place of work- where Roy was Jamie’s boss- Roy made his way over to Jamie, who looked up at the manager with something close to awkwardness on his pretty face.

“Mornin’, Coach,” Jamie hummed.

Roy had cancelled their training that morning; Jamie was smart enough to know why.

“You two back together?” Roy’s voice was low and even. It scared Jamie and the eavesdropping Greyounds more than any shouting and swearing would.

Jamie furrowed his brows and shook his head gingerly. “’Course not.” He nodded to Roy’s phone, its screen opened to a photo of the two exes sharing a dessert. “Just friends, Coach. She had some brand deal she thought I’d be interested in, I was hungry, so we grabbed a bite. I promise, I’d tell ya if anything was going to happen.” He paused, pouting a little. “Besides, you’ve moved on, haven’t ya? Saw some photos of you two playing darts and shit.”

Oh. Fuck. Roy shrugged, praying his face was relaxed. “We’re friends,” he mumbled. “Fucking getting to know each other. That’s all.”

“In that case-” Jamie’s bravado returned, reminding Roy of the arrogant prick he’d met when Jamie first came to Richmond. His eyes were bright with teasing, and he did that stupid tongue flick that made Roy want to puke. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help scoffing, telling himself it had everything to do with Jamie and nothing to do with the topic at hand. “Why the fuck d’you think she’d be interested in you?”

Tartt’s smirk widened as he winked at his obviously spying teammates. “She said it herself, didn’t she? That boyish look that I like in a man?” He gestured at his own face. “Beautiful and boyish, right here.”

Before Roy could even think, he bared his teeth at the striker, not aware of the way his fists were clenched at his sides. “Maybe she’s done with boys,” he all but spat. “Maybe she wants a real man.”

Jamie threw his hands up in surrender, eyes widening as he took in Roy’s reddening face. “Oi, Coach,” he chuckled, clearly trying to ease the tension. “I was just teasing. If you like the girl, just say so. You don’t have to go all caveman on me.”

All eyes in the changing room were on Roy, who took a step back; he hadn’t realized he was practically nose to nose with Tartt. He gave a little nod, not quite meeting the striker’s eye. “Right,” was all he could manage.

Satisfied that he had escaped another love triangle, Jamie gave Roy’s arm a friendly punch. “Now, next time you see her, could you ask about that assistant of hers? What was her name? May? April? She was fucking fit.”

Roy blinked at Jamie, barely registering what he’d just said. Instead, he sulked into his office, wondering where the fuck that little snap had come from. Probably still thinking about Jamie’s dinner with Keeley, he reasoned. That must be it. It had everything to do with Keeley and nothing to do with Jamie- or anyone else, for that matter.

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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 15

An: Took a bit of a break to work on my school stuff, thanks for your patience and understanding! If you can't tell from this chapter, I really missed Soap. Lots of angst to come ;)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 3700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Soap’s arm brushes against mine as we make our way to an unexpected meeting called by Captain Price. He’s the only stability I have right now. My joints feel weak and unnatural as they carry me through the corridor.

As soon as Ghost landed the helicopter in Ludza, I was ushered off and escorted to a solitary room somewhere deep within the base by a group of men I didn’t recognize. That was yesterday. This morning I’d never been so relieved to see Soap.

He says something along the lines of “It's been dunky's since I last saw ya,” and while I don’t have the slightest idea what he means, I’m just glad it’s him.

His right forearm is wrapped in gauze and looks like it’s supposed to be in a sling. Maybe it was in one for a day or so before he grew irritated from the lack of mobility and tore it off. I don’t know if the new injury is from his previous mission or the attack by the Ultranationalists, but I’m smarter than to ask about it right away.

“So, why did Price call a meeting?” I ask.

“Not sure, but it’s important enough for my whole schedule to change,” There’s something different about his voice. I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or relieved. Maybe neither. Maybe he’s almost as concerned as I am.

The part of the building we’re in is underground. Most of the base is. It’s an eerie feeling knowing that if something went wrong, we’d be trapped down here. But this base is newer and better equipped than the last one. I get the impression that they use Latvia as their main base because it’s closer to Russia. Closer to the Ultranationalists. But I can only speculate. Maybe this is nothing compared to their other compounds.

I can’t stop thinking about Simon – Ghost – I don’t know what to call him. It’s like the names belong to two different people and I never know which one I’m about to encounter. One is reluctantly vulnerable, damaged, caring, and tender. He yearns for more. While the other… is, something else entirely. Ghost is cold and industrial, the perfect killing machine whose all stoicism and no emotional interference. There’s an indifference present with Ghost: he’s witnessed and partaken in so much violence, so much heartbreaking cruelty that every other human emotion is out of reach. They are two sides of the same coin.

I toss a quarter in my mind and pray it lands on tails. I catch it in one hand and flip it onto my palm. Soap opens the office door as I reveal its face: heads.

Dark eyes peer out from behind that damn skull mask. He stands just beside the entrance while Price leans against a table. The only thing on its surface is a clunky, black laptop.

“Sir,” Soap nods to each of them as I duck my head and follow in behind him. The last time this happened, everything changed forever.

“Sit down, y/n,” I know it’s going to be bad when Price skips the small talk. I feel my blood pressure rising. My neck is warm and my cheeks flush. I sit on the foldable chair directly in front of him. The brim of his hat dips as he looks down at me, still leaning against the table. Soap takes his place at the other side of the door opposite Ghost. Their eyes on me heighten my anxiety. “Take a breath darling, you look about ready to fall over.”

A weak, nervous laugh bubbles from my chest. I try and relax my shoulders but I think we both know this is as good as it’s going to get.

“I’d like to thank you for alerting us to the Ultranationalist’s plan, it greatly improved our reaction time. Probably saved some lives,” Price says, but in my mind drifts to the others that were lost as a consequence. “But for our sake, I need to know everything that prisoner told you.”

So I tell him. I like Price and he’s always been decent toward me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of him. Ghost didn’t plan this thing alone. He’s had a hand in everything I’ve endured and has less of an inclination than Ghost to trust me. I don’t know a lot about the English military, but I know his rank means something. He holds power. If he wanted me to disappear, I would without a trace.

As I talk about the things the prisoner said I hear a few grumbles behind me from Soap. I look predominantly at Price but cast a few glances at Ghost who breaks eye contact every time. His actions are far from reassuring.

“Fucking knew there was a mole,” Soap’s voice is bitter with distaste. Ghost shifts as he casts a warning glare in his direction. My mouth feels dry after talking so much.

“Not now, Sergeant,” Price cautions him. This is the kind of discussion I can’t hear. For all they know I’m the mole.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Y/n there’s one other matter we need to discuss,” his attention turns to me. I feel Ghost’s eyes intensify as he watches my reactions. Did he say anything? My heart skips a beat. The inside of my cheek throbs as I nervously bite down on the flesh. Surely he wouldn’t. Right? But their bond runs much deeper than anything he and I had for that single night. When it comes down to me or Price, Ghost would choose him a thousand times over.

Maybe he did say something. What happens then?

I look from Ghost who refuses to make eye contact to Price who won’t look away. He knows.

“It has to do with information discussed at the safe house,” breathing becomes incredibly difficult. My hands clench into fists. Deny everything. Nothing happened. Nothing.

“Okay,” I sound guilty. I sound treasonous. Ready to be put down by a firing squad.

“Lieutenant Riley said you expressed an interest in viewing our tapes of several Ultranationalist attacks,” Relief washes over me as my shoulders sink into the chair. Ghost didn’t tell him. “Specifically the ones involving your father.”

My eyes lock onto Price. His words spin around in my head and part of me refuses to believe I heard him correctly.

“My father?” Swallowing feels impossible. My throat is sandpaper the whole way down. My head is light and a sudden gust of wind could blow me away like a tumbleweed.

“Affirmative,” he uncrosses his arms to brace his hands along the table. “I have them here,” he tilts his head, motioning to the laptop. I look between him and Ghost who finally makes eye contact with me. He wasn’t lying. There really are videos.

My head starts to shake. “I don’t-“

“It’ll make what I have to say next a lot easier,” Price interrupts. What he has to say next? What’s next? What’s worse than this? How could watching my own flesh and blood commit a heinous crime make whatever he is going to say easier? My stomach turns.

“Okay,” I mumble. My hands are being forced. I don’t want to see whatever footage he has.

“Right then,” He moves away from the table to log onto the computer. Already pulled up, ready to play, is surveillance footage of an Ultranationalist attack. “This was in France. Nine months ago. At a soup kitchen.”

Price clicks play and I watch the scene unfold below. A group of armed men dressed as soldiers enter a packed building with people in line for food and sitting at rows of tables. The camera catches the back of their heads. Sewn to their shoulders is the identifying patch underneath the Russian flag. They line the walls and a staff member starts to approach just as they open fire on the crowd. Two minutes of chaos ensue until every single person is riddled with bullet holes. I feel the bile creep up the back of my throat as I sit there completely stunned at what I’m witnessing. It can’t be real. It can’t be.

As the dust dies down, the line of men turns to exit the building. It’s now the camera narrows in on their faces. Their unmasked faces. Not a single man is trying to hide his identity. No. They’re proud of what they just did. I recognize him immediately, even at a distance and in a uniform completely unfamiliar to me. The man leading the group is undeniably my father.

Devastation snags my jaw like a left hook and I feel my face start to crumple under the pressure. What the fuck. It’s real. It’s too real. The first tear falls and I quickly wipe it away, but I know they saw. I can’t stop my head from shaking. I can’t believe he would do something like that. The same man who raised me. Who I thought was so kind.

“Next one also took place in France. South this time,” Price’s voice remains calm. I feel ashamed. I feel dirty from his actions.

I watch three more videos of similar attacks. In the final one, there’s a closeup of the men involved. It’s the first time I’ve seen my father with a beard, but it’s still him through and through. My own flesh and blood. How could a man do something so horrifying? How could he justify his actions?

My stomach turns and I fight the urge to throw up. Full-body tremors take over my weak frame. I wrap my arms around myself in a small attempt to find comfort. I hate the fact that they see me in such a state. I’ve never felt so vulnerable in front of a group of people before. Let alone a group actively hunting down my family. If I can even call him that.

I wish I was back in that cabin, wrapped in Simon’s arms. He’s known this whole time. He tried to warn me. If only I knew how bad it was going to get.

“It’s a lot,” Price starts. “Which is why I’m going to let you sleep on my next question.”

I nod, still staring at the floor.

“Will you help us lure him out?” I should’ve seen this coming. That’s what this has all been about. Using me to get to my father, maybe even Makarov. Ghost said so himself. But now they want me directly involved. Why?

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Think about it,” Price’s answer is short and to the point. He’ll give me time, but his patience is limited.

“Will you kill him?” my voice wavers. It’s a brave question, but I’m not brave enough for Price’s answer.

“That’s up to him,” his voice is resolute. The ambiguity of his answer is anything but reassuring. “That’ll be all for now. We’ll reconvene in the morning. Soap, she’s to stay in her quarters for the rest of the day.”

“Yes sir,” I feel his good arm on my upper back guiding me out of the room before I even realize what’s going on. In the hall, his hand rubs reassuring circles between my shoulder blades. “Do ya want food?”

“No,” I sniffle. I need to get it together before we pass the cafeteria full of men. “Thanks,” I mutter through a deep breath as I wipe my eyes for the last time. I find myself leaning into his touch. There’s a softness to Soap that’s too easy to get attached to.

My eyes are swollen, but at least I’ve stopped crying. Exhaustion seeps into my joints. Just walking feels strenuous.

“Still on babysitting duty, Suds?” a vaguely familiar voice taunts from across the room. A blond man in full gear leans against the entrance to the dining hall. He’s speaking to Soap, but his eyes never leave me. Chills run down my spine.

“Shut up ya fucking latrine queen, I don’t have time for your shite right now,” Soap shifts to my other side, placing some distance between myself and this man. He urges me to walk with a gentle hand but my feet start to slow.

“You know,” suddenly his voice doesn’t sound so vague. It’s the same man from the transportation van. The one who made crude comments toward us. The same one Ghost shut up by pulling rank. “Rumor has it you knew about the ambush.” The man raises his hand to point at me. Guilt swells in my chest.

There are only the three of us in the hall connecting the offices, cafeteria, and sleeping quarters, yet I’m afraid someone else will hear his accusations.

“Friday shouldn’t have gone down like that,” any previous teasing tone is gone. There’s real anger behind his words. “Our men died because of you,” I freeze at his words. The overwhelming feeling in my chest starts to spill over. Death follows me everywhere. He’s right. They died because of me. Others are still in the infirmary. Because of me.

Does he see my father when he looks at me? Is that what they all see? A contorted excuse for a human, twisted to the extent even mirrors don’t recognize?

Overwhelming anxiety and despair push me to the edge. I feel the tears threaten to fall again. I can’t let him see me cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

My feet take off sprinting down the closest hall, toward the sleeping quarters. My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out the sound of Soap calling after me. I don’t care. I need to get away from here. They blame me. They all blame me.

The empty corridor is lined with doors that blur as I run past them. Each leads to a room with a single twin bed. But no one’s here. Downtime isn’t for another while. I don’t know where I’m going. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter I just need to get away. Panic and adrenaline course through my veins. Tears cloud my vision and I can barely see.

When I hit the black object, It initially feels like a wall: hard and unmovable. But then his arms constrict around my torso, trapping me against his chest. I try and push off him which causes his grip to tighten even more. My mind flashes back to that night he held my arm so hard it bruised.

“How did you-”

“Where’s Soap?” Ghost’s unmistakable voice thunders in my ear. He sounds pissed. I blink away the newest tears. My emotions feel scrambled. His fingers press into my flesh. Ghost knows he has me. He doesn’t need to be this rough.

“Simon, you’re hurting me,” my throat is sore as my voice cracks.

His breathing falters and immediately the pressure is lifted. Ghost’s hands clench into fists at his side. I don’t know who he’s angry with anymore. Me, Soap, or himself? Part of me still fears him. Of what he’s capable of. Despite it, I don’t step away. I missed the heat of his chest seeping into my own. I want to feel the tenderness he’s capable of.

He sighs, collecting himself for another moment before speaking again. “Why are you running in the halls by yourself?” Ghost’s voice is significantly softer, but I don’t miss the urgency still present. A large hand brushes down my arm. It’s the only comfort I’ll get for days.

“I left him,” I mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. The huff of his chest tells me he knows I’m lying. But there’s no time for him to push further. Feet thunder down the hall as the thick Scottish accent echoes off the walls.

“For fucks sake y/n,” Soap is audibly annoyed, but it’s only surface deep. “You can’t just run off.”

“Sorry,” the words tumble from my mouth. I hate this. I hate all the attention. All the expectations. Having to be on my best behaviour. The lack of freedom. All of it.

“What happened,” Ghost inches away from me as he turns his attention to Soap.

“I took care of it,” his thick words jumble together when he’s out of breath, but Ghost is used to it. What does he mean by “took care of it?”

“Is this something I have to tell Price?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be a problem again,” there’s a slyness to his tone. Soap tucks his hands into the side of his vest and it's now that I notice the red swelling at his knuckles. I watch Ghost’s eyes flicker down to the same spot.

“Right then,” he looks between the two of us. “I need to talk to you later,” Soap nods, seemingly already on the same page. Ghost casts one last glance my way before taking off. Conflict brews in the eyes beneath the skull mask. We need to talk. Question is, when? There’s a strange expression furrowed between Soap’s brows as he watches the interaction. One almost of suspicion.

I get an entire room to myself. I feel spoiled by this most basic accommodation. A twin bed, dresser, toilet, and sink. Like a luxurious jail cell. No windows. Not this deep underground. But at least there’s privacy. Tired feet drag their way toward the mattress.

Soap leans against the doorframe, bright blue eyes closely following my figure.

“What happened out there?” his voice is soft as he reaches for the door, slowly pulling it closed behind him. My eyes flicker from his to the swollen knuckles wrapped around the handle. My brain is foggy. His actions are slightly ambiguous. Does he mean today? Or at the safe house? The door silently latches into place as he blocks the only exit. What does he know?

“Out where?” I force myself to maintain eye contact. My hands nervously fist the comforter.

“The safe house,” Soap’s head tilts as he examines my reaction.

People are quick to dismiss Soap because of his openness towards others. He’s kind and doesn’t expect anything in return. There’s no hidden ulterior motive behind his actions. Johnny is simply a good person. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t done the same thing.

But his kindness, his ability to connect with others makes him better at reading people than the rest of the task force. Next to Ghost, Soap is who you have to be so damn careful around. He’s been right there beside Ghost for more interrogations than I can count. But they’re not always bloody and violent. Sometimes they’re soft. Sometimes they’re done by someone you thought you could trust. The right interrogator will caress your cheek and wipe your tears as they coax exactly what they need from your swollen lips. Soap knows exactly how to get information from different types of people. He is dangerous. I can’t let my guard slip around him. He’ll know.

“What do you mean?” I ask, crawling further onto the bed to rest against the wall. I need to stay composed. For a moment I was certain Ghost didn’t tell Price, but I didn’t even consider Soap. They’re closer than anyone else on the task force. Their secrets have to run deep. Chances are he could know already but wants me to confirm it. Or Ghost lied to him and he caught on. What if my story doesn’t match his?

“He’s barely spoken a word since you returned. Something’s up,” Soap steps away from the door, cautiously closing in on the distance between him and the bed. I scan his face just as carefully as he does mine. But I lack the years of experience and training that he has. All I have is my gut. And right now I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s a lie.

“Nothing happened,” I attempt, but it’s apparent my words don’t take when Soap starts to shake his head.

“I don’t wanna do that with ya,” his voice is reserved as he crosses his arms. Nerves start to crawl their way back up my spine. Every part of me feels on edge.

“He was angry I didn’t say anything about the Ultranationalists before the attack,” I mirror him, folding my arms across my chest. It’s true. Just not the whole truth.

I watch as he processes my words. As his eyes narrow and his brows pull closer together. Soap’s sharp jaw angles down as he considers his next words. Something is eating away at him.

“Did he do anything?” I don’t hide the confusion stemming from his quiet words. What would he do? Why is that the first thing that comes to his mind?

“No,” It slips from my mouth in a rush, but I catch myself. “Well, we fought, but that’s it.” The sigh that escapes his chest is heavy and his stance remains closed off. I don’t know if he buys it. “It’s fine. Really. Soap I’m sick of talking about this. I know I fucked up. Every damn thing I do out here is a fuck up. Can we just leave it at that? Please?” I quickly wipe at the stray tear that escapes.

“Don’t talk like that lass,” Soap’s shoulders soften as he uncrosses his arms. His feet risk another step forward, but then he stops. Something about his expression is pained. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out and comfort me. My mind drifts to how it would feel to have his strong arms wrapped around my frame, how safe it would feel…

Soap reigns himself in. He knows he’s tiptoeing the line of his assigned duties.

“Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?” He retreats into safer territory.

“No,” I sniffle. “Thanks.”

The heavy Steel-toed boots thud along the floor. “I’ll drop off a plate,” Soap says as he closes the door behind him. The loud clank of the lock rattles throughout the room. The fog clouding my thoughts mutes the aching betrayal throughout my body, eventually lulling me to sleep.

My father planned the murder of hundreds of people. Innocent people. Mothers and children. Refugees trying to build a better life for themselves. Vulnerable civilians unable to stand up for themselves. All for what? Political gain? What kind of a sick bastard views mass murder as a tool for power? I can’t believe I’ve been so clueless. Maybe he does deserve to die. Maybe we both do.

I don’t notice the plate of food sitting on the empty dresser the next time the door opens. Something else snags my attention.

My sleepy eyes narrow in on the dark, ominous shadow looming in the corner of my room.

Someone is here.

Pt 16:

#simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost imagine #ghost fanfiction #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod imagine #soap cod #soap x reader #cod #ghost mwii #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic #call of duty mwii #he knows

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madameminor · 1 year

Text

In More Ways Than One, Part 8 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - ...Punishment

Summary: You did the crime, now you have to do the time.

Tags: 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: Light bondage, polyamory, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, anal, 'punishment', spanking, voyeurism. pet names, lots of pet names.

Notes: Like I said, my doves, here you are! Chapter 8. Hoof, this was a balancing act, and I really hope I did it justice (mostly for myself so I don't come back in a year going OMFG I need to rewrite this whole thing.) Thank you once again @dumfanting for reading and encouraging me! And thank you to everyone who has reblogged or commented. It seriously means the most to me.

Word Count: ~7k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10

With an audible smirk, Crosshair pushes you forward onto the table, letting your arms free so you can catch yourself against the surface.

“Keep your hands there until you’re told to move them.” He starts removing the top part of your kit. You look up to see Wrecker watching with that big grin, (“Heh - sorry babe, you did this to yourSELF.”) and Echo sitting on his bunk to the right, still sporting that damn amused smirk. (“It’s for your own good, cyare.”) Something about them watching you being stripped makes you shiver and buck involuntarily, eyes falling back to the table, heat rising to your face.

Crosshair pushes you down firmly between the shoulder blades, newly bare breasts startling against the cool table. “Needy already? Oh, that’s going to make this so much better.”

DAMmit.

You hear the door slide open as Crosshair starts to remove your lower kit. Tech walks into view, placing a regulation duffle on the table in front of Hunter with one hand, his datapad in the other, eyes trained on you. “Ah, you’ve begun. Then I shall set up quickly.”

He moves off to his bunk, removing his pack, pulling out wiring and small, mobile monitors, setting up a strange little station atop the blanket. You whimper in your throat - until your attention is pulled back by Hunter throwing a magnetized set of cuffs to the ceiling. They stick with a solid *clang*, immovable for even the strongest Wrecker.

You look back down to see Hunter pulling out rope… made of gauze? Is that where all your gauze went??? What was he thinking?? No wonder you were out, that would take an unbelievable amount to- They could have been seriously injured and you'd need-

“Wrists.” Hunter’s voice snaps you from your quiet outrage.

You bite back your retort, remembering the rules (and the consequences). You present your hands forward and together as meekly as possible. Without looking up, Hunter ties your wrists together, carefully, methodically, with a rather large lead at the end. He tugs it forward.

“Up.”

It takes you a moment to process what Hunter is asking you. Up…? Up where? He lightly tugs the lead forward. What onto… onto the table???

Your cheeks burn as you contemplate disobeying. You can't. You just can't! It's so embarrassing. B-but, if you disobey...

Hunter smirks and tugs on the lead, enjoying your turmoil. “I won’t say it again.”

Without making eye contact with anyone, you slowly clamber onto the surface of the table, grateful that Crosshair slid your knee pads back into place.

You keep your eyes down as Hunter threads the rope through the cuffs on the ceiling, artfully (and effectively) tying your hands up to leave you just short of dangling from the ceiling. You can almost physically feel all of their eyes on you, fully on display for them to admire.

“WOoow,” Wrecker murmurs, “Nice job, Sarge. She looks great.”

Your embarrassment is palpable. Fuck, you are so wet right now, aren’t you. You silently pray that Crosshair doesn’t notice- right before gloved fingers start tracing along your labia, gliding over your clit before moving through your slick.

“Love an audience, don’t you, kitten?” Cross smirks behind you.

Dammit.

Hunter stays silent as he sits back down, this time against the wall. He looks at the genius still tinkering over on his bunk.

“Tech?”

“Yes, finished.” Tech walks over to where you hang and places a slim metal device around your waist, closing it with a click.

You shiver at the cool metal, voice cracking with uncertainty. “Tech, what is that?”

“A device I’ve created to monitor your physical reactions to sensual and sexual stimulation. Tonight’s edging will be a perfect opportunity to test its abilities.”

Edging???? All of them were edging you???? You thought you were in for some teasing, or some overstimulation…not… not… waaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!

“Tech, please,” you whimper quietly, begging for his attention. “Please don’t let them do this, o-or at least, not for too long, I’ll be good from now on, I promise.”

He doesn’t even look up from his data pad. “I believe you, my Queen, but these are the natural consequences, as you are always warning us about. You must learn to accept them.”

Oh he WOULD throw your own words back at you, wouldn’t he? Jerk. Beautiful, smart jerk.

“Trying to plead your way out?” You hear an amused hum from behind you. Crosshair leans in next to your ear. “Naughty girl. And you know what naughty girls get?”

Your head shoots up, trying to look behind you. “No, Cross, please - “

Your ass is pulled back, torso pushed forward.

“The question is, how many? Echo?”

You look over at the once-arc trooper, eyes pleading. Echo wasn’t a sadist, he wouldn’t let it be too bad. Three, four, at most five-

He thinks for a moment.

“Ten.”

“T-Ten??” Your gasp, Wrecker and Crosshair both chuckling at your surprise.

“You earned each one of those, cyare.” He sounds like he’s scolding a child! “I know you can handle it.”

Crack.

You yelp in surprise at the sudden sting on your ass cheek. Crosshair smooths his hand to soothe the reddening mark before ordering, “Count them. Out loud.”

You clench around nothing. Not only are you being embarrassed on a table for everyone to see - but now he wants you to contribute??

Crack, yelp.

“Out. Loud, mesh’la.”

You whimper, pushing back against the soothing touch of his hand. “O-one.”

“Good girl.”

Crack “NN!! T-two.”

Crack “Three!”

As Crosshair continues, you watch Echo stand, removing the top portion of his kit, finishing by one-handedly pulling off his under armor shirt. Its like opening a present, the slight distraction pulling you away towards memories of him glistening with water, thrusting into you with his groans ringing in your ears-

Three smacks in quick succession bring your focus back. “AHhh, seven, e-eight, nine!”

“Heh heh, make this one count, Crosshair.” Wrecker rumbles from his seat at the table. His grin hasn’t faded a bit since you were strung up.

There is silence.

You can only hear your own breathing, your own heart beat.

Oh no, come on, you plead to yourself. The anticipation is almost worse than the spanking.

What is he….

Why doesn’t he just…

CRACK

“AHAAA!!” Oh, that one is going to leave a handprint- the thought makes you shiver. “T-Teeen.”

“Good girl. You took that so well.” He massages over your cheeks, relieving some of the burning. His voice purrs menacingly in your ear. “Don’t make me do it again.”

Your can’t help the defeat in your whine. “Y-Yes sir.”

Echo starts towards the head of the table. “Tech? You ready?”

Tech doesn’t look up from his monitor. “Yes - a baseline has been established. You may continue.”

________________________________________

Echo stops just before you, taking a moment to admire what he sees - his cyare, all strung up and ready for his personal use. Your eyes are glazing over as you sink into submission, pleading and longing for touch, for relief. Karking hell, he just… you just make him…

He clasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kisses you, feeling your relieved, longing whine through your throat. His cock stirs at the contact- he missed you. Misses you whenever you aren’t somehow in physical contact.

He deepens this kiss, hotter, heavier, tongue demanding entry before you let him in, plundering you for your sweetness, for his pleasure. He pulls away, an arc of combined saliva trailing between. Add the kiss- crushed lips to the whole ensemble… kriff, his cock is more than stirring now. He places his forehead against yours.

“I finally get to taste you.” His voice is huskier than normal.

He feels you shiver in his hand.

“I couldn’t wait to be inside you last time, but now…” His nose nuzzles against you.

You look up, eyes pleading, so desperate, so needy. “Echo…”

“Don’t start now, mesh’la. We’re just getting started.” He kisses you again, taking your lower lip between his teeth, before he releases your chin.

_______________________________________

Echo slides himself under you like he’s working on a speeder, which would be funny if you weren’t so turned on. You feel his warm breath against your inner thigh as he tenderly kisses your fevered flesh, bucking slightly at the sudden feeling.

You feel his rumble of excitement through your core, sending shivers and moans up your spine. “So sensitive already? Ah, mesh’la, what have I been missing?”

And all slow gentleness is gone.

“Ech- echo!” His tongue takes you moments before his mouth does, sucking your clit into a heated pulse straight out of the gate. Oh no… he is GOOD at this. You buck gently, panting whines escaping as you watch him claim you, trying to keep up with his intensity. His amused hum sends vibrations through your clit and up through your core. You groan as you work your hips against his tongue, searching for enough friction to sate-

And then he stops. He KRIFFING STOPS!!

“How’s it looking, Tech?” He grins up at your glare.

“Excellent, just as I expected. You may continue.”

You gasp at the ravenous return of Echo’s mouth to your cunt, making up for the lost moments. You try to keep your heart rate down, try to focus just on the pleasure instead of the build up - anything to keep his mouth RIGHT. THERE.

“Mmm, cyar’ika, you taste so good. The boys told me you were divine, but I didn’t know just what they meant until now…"

You clench at the idea of them comparing notes, whimpering as you look back down at him.

“Like that, hm? Knowing we talk about you? Share intel, all the ways to make you wet?” His eyes seem to flash as he watches you slowly lose yourself. He nips at your inner thigh before pushing a finger against your entrance, sliding in to stretch you, pushing out a needy moan from your throat.

“Fuck, E-Echo, yes, more, please, yes.”

He slips in another and starts pumping you full, his tongue teasing along your clit.

“I could stay down here for days, cyar’ika. Make you cum and cum and CUM while they all watch you lose yourself. All while drinking you til you drown in pleasure.”

“Y-yes Echo, yes. Please. I want to cum for you. I want to cum for you while they all watch me.”

Oh his growl travels through your clit and up your spine and he only pumps you harder. Has he changed his mind? Is he going to let you cum after all, even if the others don’t allow it? Your hips buck, desperately searching for the relief against his tongue, imagining the feeling of cumming like this in front of all of them just like he said-

“Stop.”

DAMN! You whine as Echo pulls away from your clit, his fingers still scissoring inside your tightness. He chuckles against your thigh. Your high fades, making you whine again as you shoot an angry look at Tech.

He doesn’t notice. “Returned to baseline. You may continue.”

Echo slides himself backwards until his hips are under yours, sitting up so he’s pressed against your chest. He gives you a sheepish grin.

“Probably for the best - any longer and I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from pulling that scream from you.’

“E-Echo…” you whine in your need and frustration.

He brushes your cheek with his scomp, “One day I’ll wring orgasm after orgasm from that delicious cunt of yours. But tonight - is a team effort.”

Then he does something strange - he pushes you up by your lower belly so your knees are on his metal thighs, your ass out just a little bit. He slowly starts kissing your neck, down along your shoulder. You close your eyes to enjoy his lips against your skin…

You feel gloved fingers trace over your labia. Three of them dip into your slick hole, eliciting a gasp while coating themselves thoroughly.

Crosshair’s hiss is amused- and hungry.

“So wet already, princess.”

Just as you groan, about to beg for more, his fingers leave your pulsing pussy-

-and start lubing your tighter hole with your own arousal.

You buck in surprise… and need. “C-Cross…!”

He chuckles darkly. “You knew this was coming, princess. I’m finally taking what’s mine.”

One finger gently pushes through your ring of muscle, a whole new stretch, a whole new sensation, pushing into his second knuckle.

“So tight here, aren’t you, kitten?” Crosshair rumbles as Echo’s hand on your waist steadies you, allowing Cross to pulse his finger deeper… deeper…

You whimper as Echo kisses back up to your neck, almost overloaded with all of the attention. He smirks, nipping lightly at your exposed skin. “You’re doing well, cyare. I know you can take it.”

Echo gently lets your knees back down to the table. With a final kiss to your neck he leans back on his scomp elbow, starting to pull his cock through the slick of your folds.

“So beautiful like this, cyare.” Fully coated, he positions himself at your entrance, laying back and gently pushing himself into your concentrated heat. You groan at the size of him - after almost a week of no sex, he feels… this feels… FUCK…he’s so BIG.

Echo’s voice is a feral groan. “That’s right, precious, stretch to fit me. Love watching your face as you take all of me like that. KRIFF, cyare.”

You look down at him, bliss bubbling through you as you watch him come undone. “Echoooo… Echo, NNnnn.”

He gives a few strokes, guiding you along your stretch. “So TIGHT. So hard not to make you cum all around me until I spill into you.” His scomp rests on your thigh, his hand on your waist.

Crosshair’s finger pulls out slightly, then gently pushes back in, further, further… You whimper, not looking away. “E-Echo, it feels so strange with both of you.”

Even through his pleasure, he checks in with you. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? You can always use your word.”

You bite your lip to keep from groaning too loudly. “Y-yes. I just feel so FULL.”

Echo smiles and rolls his hips, making you cry out in alarm and arousal.

Crosshair snickers from behind you. “Not nearly as full as you’re going to be.”

Echo groans as Crosshair’s words make you clench around his cock. He starts to move, slowly to get a rhythm with Crosshair. The new sensations together are almost too much- but perfectly so.

Echo’s eyes are drinking you in while you dangle over him, hardly able to hold yourself together. He moves faster, gripping your hips, doing his best not to push down too hard with his scomp. “Kriff, cyare. Best kriffing pussy In’ve ever had, I swear to the stars.” He’s almost losing himself i his reverie.

Crosshair’s pulses speed up, leaving you bent over and open. You can’t keep yourself quiet, feeling noise pushed from you with every double thrust.

Hunter’s voice rumbles from the far wall. “Wrecker, she’s getting too loud - why don’t you help her with that?”

Wrecker hops up from his vantage point like he’s been waiting for his cue, undoing his codpiece and pulling himself out. You gulp. Thank goodness you’ve practiced with him a bit since last time. He lines himself up after a few pumps, his hand laying on your head. He groans as he pushes past your lips, letting you take him halfway down. You swallow around him, trying to take more. “KARKing hell, babe. Still hungry, huh?” He grunts as he pushes in a bit more. “Look so kriffing good taking three of us at once. Like you were born to be our little bunker bunny.”

Both of your holes clench, and you know Echo and Crosshair felt how much you liked that. Fuck.

With his cock in your mouth, you can moan all you want, muffled by the length pushing into your throat- a good thing too.

Echo has planted his feet, pushing up so each thrust pushes his cock further, deeper, pushing out cries of ecstasy and need that vibrate along Wrecker’s cock, making him moan in return, thrusts fucking in farther as he ravages you for his own.. The feeling of the cool metal of Echo’s thighs against your burning backside combined with Crosshair’s finger stretching, filling- its so much, its so good. Your pants become moans become cries as you rocket towards your height, so full, so FULL, please just keep-

“Stop.”

No, no NO. Echo slows with his own groan, Wrecker pumping his cock twice more down your throat before pulling out with a reluctant groan. You desperately try to move yourself down on Echo’s cock - but the gauze and his grip don’t let you.

He grins through his panting. “Be good, cyare. Not yet.”

You practically throw a kriffing tantrum. “BUt EchOOooooOO.”

Wrecker chuckles, pushing his cock back between your lips. “Should have thought of that before you decided to make trouble, babe.”

“You may continue.” Tech says decisively, before speaking quietly to himself. “This is excellent.”

Echo slides back into you slowly, adding himself back to the cacophony of sensation between Crosshair and Wrecker. You see Hunter out of the corner of your eye - you can only imagine what you look like. Fuck, the idea of him watching his men all taking you in various ways, using you like the play thing you are right now-

Echo groans through clenched teeth. “Kriff, she keeps clenching. I don’t know how much more I can give boys, she’s squeezing me so tight. Fuck, you look so pretty with a cock in your mouth, cyare. Tech, am I clear?”

“Yes, now is an ideal time. I will alert you if things change.”

With a curse, Echo starts to pick up his pace. “Alright, cyar’ika. Be good and let me cum inside you, hm? Are you going to be good and let me cum without you?”

You can barely answer around Wrecker’s cock sliding its way down your throat. “M-mm-h-mm.’

With a groan he fucks into you faster, chasing his own high, pushing you far enough forward you’re choking on Wrecker’s cock, earning a lecherous groan from the big guy. You hear Crosshair chuckle darkly behind you, pumping his finger all the way in and leaving it there to let Echo set the pace he needs.

God it feels so good you wish you could CUM!! You whine and cry in your need and frustration, tears running down your cheeks from chocking on Wrecker just adding to the effect. “MmMmMmmm!”

Echo groans as he fucks himself with your pussy. “KRIFF, I know, I know cyare, but you’re doing so good. You’ll be so full when you cum for us, it will feel so good. Now be a good girl and let… me….cum....”

His hips stutter and you can feel him empty himself into you with a soulful groan. You’re so sensitive you can feel every spurt of his cum against your walls, can feel him dripping down as fast as he tries to thrust it all in you. You feel him slowing, whining on Wrecker’s cock while your hips involuntarily move for more.

Wrecker pulls himself from your mouth with a groan, squeezing the base of his cock. “Fuck that was so hot. You almost got me.” He steps back, breathing to get ahold of himself.

You feel first Crosshair, then Echo pull out of your dripping holes, leaving you panting and clenching around nothing. Echo sits up to meet you, kissing your cock-bruised lips to wet his own, his hand holding the side of your face as his lips explore yours.

“So good, cyare. You feel so good like this, letting me fuck myself with your pussy like that.”

“I want to cum Echo, please…”

“I know,” he smirks into your kiss. “But we aren’t done using you yet. If you’re good and let us all take you how we want, we’ll let you cum. Good girls get to cum.”

You can’t help the desperate, pleading look you give him before resigning to your fate. “Yes sir.”

You feel the poking of something firmer than a finger at your tighter hole, lubing up against the dripping combination of you and Echo. You gasp, trying to look behind you.

Crosshair.

“Relax, princess. Let me finally use my new toy.”

Echo smirks, propping his legs against your thighs to put your ass on display again.

You glance towards Hunter. You gulp, take a deep breath, and relax - hoping he’ll see his good girl trying to make his men happy.

A small smile, a nod. You feel a bit less whiny.

The plug slides in, pushing out a whine as you stretch to accommodate. You hear Crosshair remove a glove, thrown to the side, his now bare hands firmly massaging your ass cheeks.

“Kriff, princess. Can’t wait to fuck that tight hole of yours. So soon now. Going to make you cry with how good it feels.”

Your hips buck at the lust in his voice - you can feel it like velvet, caressing you along your skin. You glance around - everyone totally saw how much you loved that idea, all of them staring at you. You feel the heat in your cheeks as you look down and away.

Wrecker seems to have regained his composure - and he’s looking at you like you’re a full buffet on Coruscant. “So Tech, can I kriff her now?”

“Yes, readings are at optimal levels - her walls have reached a new level of constriction without stimulation.” Tech’s voice sounds a bit… deeper than usual. “Fascinating.”

“Heh, still tight, huh? Let’s see what we can do about that.”

________________________________________

Wrecker has never thought of adding more to sex than just the sex part, so this whole tieing-you-up to the ceiling thing was a little weird - and totally a turn on. Watching you trapped in place, squirming under his gaze, can’t get away from how good everything feels, the bonds on your wrists the only thing holding you up - like a fruit, ripe for picking. Oh he could just bite into you, and… Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Sex isn’t usually rough for him - well, not all of it. He likes holding you close. He likes kissing your neck and hearing your happy sounds while he touches your body. But something about you tied up like this…He wants to let you have it. He wants to USE you the way his brother just used you. And cum so far in you that he gets you-

Whoa. That was new. UH, and maybe for thinking about later.

Can you handle him? He hesitates - memories of his strength going too far, cries of pain from allies unintentionally caught up in his exuberance.

But the others are here. His brothers, who have guided him through everything. They know what they’re doing, they’re sharing this weird new world with him. They’d explained what ‘the word’ was, and ‘colors’, and he’d heard them talk to you about some of the things you like; He can trust them. And he can trust you to take care of what you need.

Right?

__________________________________________

Big, callused hands grip your hips, pulling you back against a broad, warm chest. a rough voice low in your ear. “Babe, you look so good right now. I want to just…Can I just…”

Its the lust that gets you, weakens your knees, quickens your pulse. He’s trying to warn you, trying to give you the chance to say stop, or at least slow down-

“Wrecker…” You don’t have to try to sound needy.

His voice is waiting. “Yeah?”

You hope he can feel the shiver that runs through you as you say - “Yes, baby, please.”

“Fuck.” You feel him buck in turn on at your words. There’s a hand in your hair, digging in and moving your head to the side, teeth finding the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites down while he sinks inside of you, spearing you, pushing you to stretch around him. You cry out with near pain, but mostly pleasure, arching your hips back towards him.

“MM thats right. Gonna fuck myself so good with this kriffing pussy.” You feel him playing with your ass cheeks, gripping them firmly so he can watch himself going in and out of your dripping pussy, pulling himself all the way out before slamming himself in again.

Once your whines become moans, he picks up the pace a bit, pulling you back by your cheeks, watching his cock emerge glistening from your cunt with each thrust, swearing under his breath. “Kriff, kriff, kriff.” He speeds up, losing control faster than he normally allows, already pushing his full length inside of you. You bite your lip to keep from screaming out his name.

“You like that, baby? Like me fucking you on your knees like this?” He grabs at the back of your neck, holding you in place as he starts to come undone, fucking himself with your sopping wet mess, his balls slapping your clit in a delicious rhythm-

And then, with a growl, he SPANKS you.

Hard.

And its fucking bliss.

A cry escapes you, loud and needy, savoring the fading sting of his handprint on the other cheek from Crosshairs - oh, they’re competing, aren’t they? KRIFF they are, see who can leave a better handprint- gods, the idea brings you right to the edge, each subsequent thrust about to send you flying, so close, so close, so-

“Stop.”

That mother fucking-

“Come on… Tech!.. feels so-”

“If we are to teach her properly, we must be consistent. Stop.”

With a groan Wrecker slows, still not pulling out entirely. You whine in your throat and against your bitten lip, panting into the bonds at your wrists. Your hips move back greedily, trying to take him deeper, harder, anything, just anything. You can feel his grip tighten- oh he’s working so hard not to keep fucking you, not to cum in you while you cum around him you’re so close- maybe you could get him to just-

You feel the wave fade, bringing you back down to square 1. Fuck. This. Machine.

Tech murmurs to himself on his bunk. “Hm. That slight delay allowed me to gather further data then intended.” You glance over to your genius. He’s focused, his pupils are dilated, his goggles slightly fogged- this is one of his fantasies, isn’t it? That thought makes you clench again around a stilled Wrecker, who groans into your shoulder. He starts moving again, unable to resist it any longer.

Every few pumps he smacks your ass, the sting making you cry out in painful pleasure, making you squeeze around him. Fuck this is AGONY, to feel so good, so GOOD with no build up to release the tension, the need building in your walls again. You let out a particularly frustrated whine of need, of frustration.

“Yeah, regrettin’ teasing me now, huh, babe?” OOooo there’s a sadistic note in his voice that just makes this all WORSE. “Gonna mark this ass up, make it so no reg will ever doubt you’re our girl.”

“I-I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry I won’t do it again, I promise.” You can’t care that you’re begging again, you just need it so bad. “Mark me all you want baby just please let me cum. I want to cum so bad. I’ll be good from now on, I swear I will. Just please let me cum.”

Wrecker bucks inside of you, groaning at your words while picking up his pace. Oh he wants you to milk his cock dry while he cums inside of you. He just needs a little more convincing...

“Please baby, please.”

Wrecker’s practically pleading himself. “Can… Can she?”

But Hunter’s eyes still aren’t satisfied. He levels his gaze at you. “Not yet.”

DAAAAAMMIT! Needy tears start falling down your face as Wrecker slaps your ass one more time.”FUCK, sorry babe.”

Crosshair’s chuckle makes your hair stand on end. Shit. You thought he was going to let you get away with it.

“Trying to play to the soft one, are you? Just for that...”

Suddenly, the plug in your ass starts vibrating.

Echo gets to you with just enough time to cover your mouth before you scream, grinning down at your crossed eyes as you squirm against your bonds.

“KARKing hell Crosshair,” Wrecker swears, losing his rhythm for a moment. “WARN ME NEXT TIME.” Echo chuckles as he steps back out of view.

Too much, oh gods in the firmament, its too much- and you can’t get away. You fall limp in your bonds, completely giving over to the pleasure arcing through your body, clenching and craving around Wrecker’s cock, letting the vibration from the plug light you up. Wrecker’s thrusts become more frenzied, more needy, his balls hitting your clit at an even faster pace, all the rivers of pleasure building up into a massive wave that you desperately want to flood you.

“KRIFF, you’re so tight, babe. That’s it, I can’t… I’m gonna fucking cum, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

You can only whimper in return, feeling the tidal wave flooding your senses as he pounds into you.

“Wrecker…”

“No way, Tech… I’m finishing… this time.”

“Her muscle contraction is continuing to dangerous levels-”

“I’ll handle this.” If you weren’t so far under, you’d care about how mischievous Crosshair sounds right now...

...but you’re a little preoccupied.

“Please please please don’t stop Wrecker please just a little more…” You’re so so close…

Until…

…the vibration in your plug stops.

It robs you of just enough sensation to leave you short of your promised release, just as Wrecker’s hips stutter, painting your walls with warm ropes of his seed. You whine in protest, desperately trying to fuck yourself just a LITTLE BIT HARDER on his cock - please, please, PLEASE-

-but its no use.

You feel Wrecker riding out his high, pushing in as far as he’ll go.

“Want all of that to stay in there, babe. Want to still be dripping out of you when we walk out tomorrow.”

You clench again, your moan pitiful in its need, looking to find the culprit who foiled your plans.

Crosshair’s smirk is particularly smug. And soon blocked by Wrecker kissing along your shoulder and behind your neck as he pulls out of you, groaning against your skin.

He pants as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “So…hot… babe. Just so…”

You stubbornly whine and buck against him, beyond words. Wrecker chuckles. “Yeah, I know, I know.” He gently slaps your ass. “Alright, who’s next? Tech?”

The Genius talks like he hasn’t heard him, slightly quicker than usual. “Excellent. I’ve gathered enough data to make this a fruitful session. This will record her levels across the board when she finally orgasms.”

“Tech.”

“Hm? Oh yes.” He pauses and walks up to you, kissing your bruised lips. “Thank you, my Queen. You will not regret this.” He says earnestly before turning back to his datapad.

“Well, not ALL the time.” Came Crosshair’s chuckle from behind you. The feeling of the plug slowly pulling out is a torturous relief - so foreign and strange, but so empty now.

_____________________________________________________

Tech cannot remember a time in his life where he's felt as aroused as he does at this exact moment.

Its intoxicating, watching the arousal of his Queen translated into loggable data on his screen - her heart beat, her slickness, her walls constricting - all recorded and stashed away for his personal analysis, his pleasure- keeping you close to him, opening you up to him in a way no one else will know you. Expansive heavens above, even your data is gorgeous.

That. Is EXTREMELY. Arousing.

Now he gets to claim the rest - the remaining data to complete his first of many trials, watching you cum apart in binary, in stats and readings, all while HE’S taking his pleasure. He gets to physically see how he makes your pretty pussy feel. Fuck, the shiver that goes through him at the thought.

He’s so hard its uncomfortable against his codpiece. So he takes that off. Along with everything else that separates your skin from his, all while watching a gloved crosshair removing your plug and opening your ass just a bit more.

He walks to the table where you hang, panting and whining for attention as Crosshair milks your moans from you - and your eyes open to meet his.

He reaches out, gently tracing his hands down from your collarbone along the outlines of your breasts, coming to rest just above your hips, enjoying the curve where your hips meet your waist, thumb tracing the device that connects you to his datapad, and therefore, to him.

“Would you like to cum now, my queen?”

Your whine is so desperate his mouth waters. “Yes, Tech, p-please.”

___________________________________________________

Tech’s moan as you slide down onto him is the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard - at least, until Crosshair starts pushing his cock into your ass. His groan almost makes you cum then and there: Deep, hungry, excited, ALMOST satisfied. His hands tighten on your waist to keep himself from losing control. You’re grateful, because you’re so overwhelmed by the two cocks filling both of your holes that you can barely make noise. Its so strange, and so good. Mother what have you been missing up until now…

“KRIIIIIIFF Princess, you’re so tight.” Cross pants close to your ear, teeth finding your shoulder, eliciting a cry. You’re already so full, so INCREdibly full. Its…its so much and you’re so full and you have two men you care for stuffed inside you and now he’s biting you. You look to Tech, a mirror of how you feel, his lips parted, eyes feverish, but still observing, watching you as you relax for both of them, thumbs massaging into the crease above your thighs.

“That’s right, my queen. Let go.”

You can’t even think about what that means - which is probably for the best as your body takes control. You feel yourself sink down closer to tech, letting him support you.

With a groan, Crosshair starts to move. In, out, in, out. His pumps are achingly slow, working you open to fit him one inch at a time.

“Relax for me Mesh’la. That’s it. Let me in.” His words travel up your spine with the same velvety effect, pushing out your whimper as you clench around him and Tech.

“C-Crosshair.”

He thrusts sharply into you, reacting to his name. “KARking hell, yes, that’s right mesh’la. I’m so hard right now, NNNnnn can feel you squeezing me.” He sheaths himself again, easier than before. “KRIFF.. Tech, you can start moving, she’s ready.”

Then Tech moves, a small thrust up into you to test the waters.

And your nerves liquidate into molten pleasure.

Its invasive, you’re so open, feeling like everything you are is out for all to see. You have to relax to take them both, have to let them take control so you can take them both inside of you. Tech’s thrusts start to match Crosshair’s, both entering you with firm thrusts to accompany their moans. You fall into your bonds, useless, nothing but feeling and moaning and stretching to fit more, please, more. Balancing between the two of them, feeling them both sliding inside of you, taking their pleasure while you thrive off of theirs.

“Yes my Queen, you’re so wet. You feel so good,” Tech pants. You feel Tech’s thumb start to circle your clit. You cry out a whimper with each circle, unable to control it, reacting purely on instinct. You feel a warm chest on your back: Crosshair leaning in to slide his hand to your throat, thrusting in you that much faster.

“Been wanting to fuck you like this for so long, kitten. Watch you take my cock in your ass while someone fucks your pretty little cunt. Kriff I don’t think I can last much longer, this is too good.” He’s practically growling through his clenched teeth, trying to hold himself together. “Does it feel good, mesh’la? Taking two cocks at once in your tight little holes? Feeling me take what’s mine?”

“S-o g..ood…s…oh… gooood!” You can hardly speak for the tears running down your face, the pleasure finally building to a greedy crescendo amidst clit, ass, pussy, wrists.

“That’s right princess. Can feel you getting close. KRIFF can feel you squeezing me. You’re close, aren’t you? Beg for it.”

“P-l-l-l-e-e-a-s-e…?”

“KARKing hell. Yes, pretty girl, you can cum now. Cum for us. Kriff, cum while I’m finally cumming in your ass. FUCK.”

You feel two of Tech’s fingers slide between your lips, clamping down around them as they lightly press against your tongue. A makeshift silencer. You look down to him and meet his curious, hungry eyes as he watches you. His husky command is quiet and simple.

“Cum with me, my Queen.”

And everything crashes together like a symphonic crescendo.

It hits you like a droid popper, radiating out through your body and along your limbs. You moan against the fingers in your mouth, your muffled cry in sync with your convulsing walls, two cocks pumping their loads inside of you while you milk them dry. You feel them fill you, one in each hole, pushing their seed in further with each thrust. They both slow, working you down from your high as your panting cries begin to slow and quiet. You slide down again, gasping at the familiar motion with the unfamiliar addition in your ass.

You clench around Tech as Crosshair slides out of you with a groan - before he pops in the plug from earlier.

“So all the mess stays inside.” He whispers, kissing along your shoulder. “I’ll clean me out of you later, precious. Once Hunter’s done with you.”

You buck at the idea, taking Tech a bit deeper, eliciting a gasp from him. Tech sits up slowly, kissing you firmly, but gently.

“Thank you, mesh’la. You did so well, taking all of us. The first of many... experiments.”

You whimper, feeling the gauze holding you up shift. You pull away from the kiss to see Hunter untieing his knots.

“Lean on me, my Queen,” Tech murmurs along your neck, pressing kisses against your glistening skin. “Let me hold you up.”

You relax against him with a groaning sigh, feeling his cock still softening inside you, letting his trailing kisses along your collarbone ground you while Hunter undoes your bonds, massaging your wrists as they're freed from the confines of gauze.

Hunter’s voice is close. “I've got her from here.”

Tech murmurs in your ear. “Are you ready to move, my Queen?”

You nod into his shoulder and he kisses your check tenderly.

You’re lifted up against a warm body covered in fabric, legs wrapping around instinctually as you’re carried away. You’re placed down on a bed, lips beginning to explore your neck, warm hands firmly massaging along your waist, your torso. With a small gasp, you feel the fire alight in your pussy. You’d think that the edging and the orgasm would have left you sated-

-but nope, it just made you hungrier.

Hunter's voice whispers by your ear, holding you while hands massage along your weary muscles, working you back into a frenzy. “That’s my good girl.”

______________________________________________

It’s so easy to slide into you now. And fuck does it feel so good.

He watches you come back to him, settling from that high and back into his good girl. He was ravenous for you right now, a way he didn’t know he could feel. Watching his squad all take you one by one, at his orders, under Crosshair’s direction - he thrusts into you involuntarily. So hot. It had been so. hot.

Your whimper brings him back - and your buck against him drives him forward.

“My good girl took all of my men, didn’t she?” he growls in your ear as he starts to thrust. “Took all of my brothers and didn’t cum once. Just like I knew she could.”

Your little cries are driving him crazy with need. “Daddy…”

Something in him clicks- he loses a small amount of control, chasing this feeling with abandon and need. “That’s right, my good girl, Daddy’s going to make you cum all over him, got it? Make you cum good and hard.” His pace is nearing relentless. The warning of her orgasm peels from Tech’s machine before it’s quickly silenced.

“Yes Sir, please, please I’m going to cum again.”

And again. And again. Your moans are silenced as someone stuffs something into your mouth.

“That’s right. Let them hear how good your Daddy makes you feel, as loud as you want now. Tell them to watch you cum on Daddy’s cock. “

He feels you start to squeeze around him, and its bliss. He fucks into you with more need, more hunger, riding out your wave and letting it feed his own.

“That’s right, my good girl. Nnh, NNH. TAKE me. FUCK it feels so good when you cum. Cum around me like that again.”

It's impossible to stop this relentless pace as he pulls one, two, three orgasms from you, your bucks finally weakening, lessening, til he knows you’re satisfied, you’re done right. With a growling cry he spills into you, biting between neck and shoulder to practically draw blood, leaving his mark in and on you at the same time.

You both lay there panting against each other, him nosing against your neck to imprint your scent again- you smelling like all of them, but him most recent of all. Your body relaxes against his, settling down once again, one hand weaving into his hair and holding him close.

He hears a small, amused huff above him. He smiles against your neck. Always the last word.

“So… do you forgive me?”

He can’t help but chuckle to himself. “Yes, pet. I forgive you.” He grips your arm where his hand lays, firm, serious, but not painful. “But next time… talk to me. Please. I’ll listen.”

“Alright,” your smile becomes a yawn as you stretch to get comfortable. “I won’t do that anymore…” You trail off.

Wait for it.

“…to you.”

Hmph. He smirks into your shoulder.

“That’s my good girl.”

______________________________________________

Extra note: SOO guess what? I got into grad school!!! I'm so so very excited about it, its definitely a path of my dreams. Here's the thing- Grad school and work are going to take up a LARGE part of my life. What I want to know is, how many of you are actually invested in me continuing this series? If you are seriously a fan and really want to read more, please reblog and/or comment on this and/or other chapters. Likes to me say 'oh this is nice, but I'm not super invested', like you're just passing through (which is cool, just won't be enough for me when I'm that busy). So if you're invested, you want me to keep going, then please reblog/comment to show me you're serious. That way I'll know I can set this as a priority without feeling dumb. ("Like who even reads this?" You know.)

If not, then the next chapter will be the last one, since its got a good stopping place.

Thanks everyone for reading this far :)

_______________________________________________

What up, tag list?

@nunanuggets @mywheezingisalertingtheguards @allhailkingboba @valiantlyminiaturecreature @ladykatakuri @ben-is-a-hoe @klay97 @kaitou2417 @dumfanting @kuromisheart @koifish08 @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @badbatch-simp24 @pointy-sharp @rainytears2 @gabile18 @nedxwynert @chopper-witch @nexxxxxxxxx @nightscissor @corona-one @babypandasugar22 @pumpkinkpatch @oohyesplease @princessclaire2 @just-a-shit-ton-of-trama @badbatch-simp24 @foreverhockeytrash @unholy-t-rin-ity @reeny26 @smurderous @xxeiraxx @discarded-beskar @just-an-anxious-ball-of-flesh @mybigfatspoonielife @whore4rex @andyoufollowyourheart @lokigirlszendaya @captain-splock-you @darkangel4121

#in more ways than one #tbb in more ways than one #tbb smut #the bad batch smut #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x f reader #madame writes #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch #tbb hunter x reader

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