I haven’t played this stupid game in 6 months. This is a sequel to Prospects, this time featuring Bailey.
Agreement
The envelope shook in your hand. “This should suffice.”
Bailey took it from you, not bothering to meet your eyes as she slit the top and took the slip inside. Whitney, dressed for the ride ahead— or fight; whatever came first— in his sweats and t-shirt, stood with his back to the door. Despite your assurance, he had insisted on sitting in on this final transaction as if the mountain of cash you had worked yourself ragged to obtain would not be enough to settle the score, as if your being there were not dependent solely on your value as a worker, as if Bailey— who now looked up at you over the check between her fingers and her half-rimmed glasses— would care beyond that if you were gone.
The ground swayed beneath your feet.
Bailey leaned back in her chair, gesturing to Whitney with the check. “This was your idea?”
You could not bring yourself to look back at him, but you could imagine his expression. It was the same as when you had when you had met Briar and Avery a few days before; cool, unflinching, as though you were an item at a pawn shop he was trying to get a good price on. You supposed you were, in a sense. “Yes.”
Bailey nodded slowly, taking in your figure, your stance. You squirmed under her gaze. “And the child’s yours, I take it?”
“Yes.”
She considered as much. “You know,” she mused, “your… what would the word be? Fucktoy?”
He scoffed. “For our purposes, property.”
“Oh, hardly.” She leaned her elbows on the desk, fingers lacing together under her chin. “Not officially at least, not until our terms are settled.”
“What terms are there to settle?” You picked at your cuticles, heart pounding in your throat. “Is that not how much—“
“That’s how much my best earner was worth before.” Her smile was sweet like cough syrup, sharp like whiskey. “I’m a businesswoman you understand; it would hardly make much sense for me to part with my greatest revenue stream for its raw material costs.”
You looked back at Whitney. He kept his eyes trained on the woman in front of you. “And how much would it take for you to part ways with your charge?”
She sighed in mock contemplation. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sucked her teeth. “Another fifty percent ought to do it.”
The words echoed in your ears. You swallowed back panic as you went back to staring at the floor.
“Fifty?” His sneer was audible. “The fuck you take me for?”
“Someone desperate.” She gestured to you. “Someone willing to take when they can get and leave.”
“A bitch, you mean.”
“So long as we’re being frank.”
“You—“
“Do you know how much that child is worth?” You shut your eyes as you felt her own take you in. “Do you know what sort of market you could appeal to with a matching set?”
You heard a rustling of cloth behind you. Whitney’s voice was as cheerful and bright as you had ever heard it. “So long as we’re considering the lives of people that matter,” he smiled, “I’m curious; how much is your life worth?”
There was a pause, a laugh from Bailey. “That bitch,” she sighed. “First that file—“
“This actually isn’t Laundry’s, surprisingly enough.” You heard the clinking of metal parts as he gestured to you. “Friend of a friend who lives in the country; I promised him the deed to this shithole if your position found itself empty.”
Despite yourself, you turned to face him. He held the pistol in his hand with the confidence of a man unfazed by its weight. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he would be tried if he went through with it, whether the cops would come or care or whether they would write it off as the result of one of Bailey’s “ungrateful brats”. You could not for the life of you decide which would be preferable.
“So,” he continued, finger twitching, eyes shining, “I think it best if we tried renegotiating terms.” He gestured to you. “Either you take the money and I take your cash cow off your hands—“ He steadied his aim, “— or I redecorate your office with your insides and you get to find out whether the contents of that envelope are worth shit in hell.”
You cast your gaze back towards her. Bailey looked between the two of you, lips pursed. “You’re more desperate than I thought.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and reached into her shirt pocket. “Let me give you some advice, kid.”
You shut your eyes again at the click of the safety. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”
She pulled out a carton of cigarettes, tapping one out and sticking it between her lips. “He isn’t a better person than I am, you know.” She took a lighter off her desk. “He’s not going to take better care of you than I am, isn’t going to wish you off to some fairy tale land where you’ll never know hardship; if anything, he’s going to fuck you over harder than I do.” She lit it, took a drag, smiled, exhaled.
“You fucking—“
“And you.” She pointed the cigarette at him. “Whitney, yeah? You think your life’s going to get better by being a father?” She leaned her head on her free hand. “I’ve been stuck with this job for thirty years now; the only thing that thing—“ she waved the cigarette in your belly’s general direction, “— is good for is an accessory to the walking ATM it’s stuck in.”
You could hear his voice shake; with what, you could not tell. “So help me God if you say one more thing about my fucking kid—“
“Let me say my piece.” She stood up, taking another drag and blowing it in your face. “If I were you,” she sighed, “I’d see if Harper couldn’t make an exception to get that thing out of you while it’s not breathing. Short of that, I’d ship it here.” She leaned forward, resting her hand on the surface of her desk. “But if I ever find your brat at my doorstep,” she promised, voice lowering, “if I ever see you or that thing here again, I’ll make your time here look like a stay at the Ritz-fucking-Carlton.” She stuck the cigarette back between her teeth, tilting your head up to look her in the eye. The resemblance between her and Whitney was apparent; you wondered if that was just what the eyes of monsters looked like. “I will make your child pay for however much you would have made me twofold, and I will sell their body— whole or piecemeal— to any dumb fuck who asks for what I’m sure will be a pretty young thing like them. Do you understand me?”
You could not breathe.
Her grip on your jaw tightened. “Are you deaf?” She brought you closer, and you whimpered at the sensation. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me or don’t you?”
You shut your eyes as her nails dug into your skin. You dug your own into your palm as you forced yourself to nod.
She kept you there a moment— for what, you did not know— before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes shot open, and you swallowed back tears— of relief, of sadness, of panic— as she released you, collapsing to your knees and gasping for air. “Good.” She took the check, slipping it into her pocket before sitting back down. “Leave before I change my mind.”
You pulled yourself to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to cling to Whitney. He glanced down at you, letting you bury your face into his shoulder as he took one last look at your former guardian. Wordlessly, he pulled the two of you out into the hallway, past the children gathered by the door, past the garden and Robin and the stairs and the threshold and finally, with a smile of untempered relief and satisfaction, across the street, into the truck parked there, and away from that miserable town, and as you watched the buildings you had come to know as parts of your home flew past, as you watched people you recognized from school rush into the forest and students— like you, you registered vaguely, desperate for money, for purpose, for anything— lean against street corners, you wondered if this would be any better, if this was more desirable, if this was emancipation or a different, crueler kind of ownership.
You mumbled a goodbye to the bus stop as it passed. Only then did the tears really start.
something with f!bailey and rimming? don't care who's rimming who, surprise me
minors do NOT interact
surprise! I want to rim bailey
A/N: as much as I would want this to happen in canon, I really can’t think of any situations where Bailey would actually let you so I just made something up
TAGS: f!bailey x gn!pc; bailey is accidentally affected by plant aphrodisiacs; rimming (very explicit), fingering, masturbation, face-sitting
bailey made the mistake of going through your garden—presumably trying to find something to make profit off of, but instead found herself overwhelmed by the aphrodisiac properties of your plants. she tried to shove past you, to get the fuck out of there, but you told her you could help.
it took a lot of convincing and promises that you’d up your payment for next week, but it worked. so here you are in her office, with bailey lying her stomach, legs spread on her desk. it’s not a position you ever thought you’d be in.
“overwhelmed?” bailey says snarkily.
“a bit,” you whisper, running your finger beside her tight pucker. kissing one of bailey’s cheeks, you let your lips trail down, hovering above her hole. bailey grinds her ass against your face, and you feel your sex throb. you can smell the body soap still lingering on her skin from her morning shower.
“I don’t have all day. stop wasting my time or I’ll find a better use for you.”
“I’ll help, just...” you press a kiss to her hole, letting your eyes become hooded. “give me... a second.” you grab her ass, spreading it wide to expose her twitching hole.
bailey’s sharp exhale is all you need to hear. you dive in without restraint, licking at her hole. her sweet pucker sucks you in then spits you out, like it doesn’t know what to do with the sudden stimulation. it’s messy and dirty and so fucking hot.
“more,” she hisses, hips bucking against your tongue.
you reach over her thigh and starting rubbing at her clit, and bailey’s hole spasms around your tongue.
“fuck, bailey,” you moan.
you trace your fingers over her labia, letting the wetness coat your fingers. you rub harder at her clitoris in quick circles. at this point, you’re full on making out with her rim, feeling it quiver on your tongue. bailey’s body can’t seem to decide which way to grind—either into your mouth, or against your hand, so she just digs her hand against the corner of her desk, knuckles turning white.
bailey’s wetness—the smell of her slick reaches your nose and you go dizzy. you can’t help yourself, bringing your hand down and rubbing it against your sex, spreading bailey’s arousal against yourself. you buck forward with a gasp, then lean back to catch your breath.
“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” bailey snaps, grabbing you by the hair and shoving your face back into her ass. “get off to me on your own time.”
“s-sorry,” you whisper, but given how your sex is throbbing, you’re really not sorry at all.
bailey is rubbing her own clit now, fast and harsh. you let your fingers creep up beside them, and slip inside. there’s no resistance, bailey’s wetness pouring down your hand like a waterfall. bailey lets out a moan, pussy clamping down on your fingers. her cunt sucks hungrily, pulsating around you.
your eyes roll to the back of your head as you dream about getting off after this. the feeling of bailey still lingering on your tongue and fingers—it’s nearly orgasmic just thinking about it.
bailey can tell she’s lost your attention again, because she abruptly pulls away from you.
“what—?”
your fingers feel cold without her pussy around you. she hops off the desk, shoving you down onto it so you lie where she was. she swings her legs over you, so she’s straddling you, ass hovering above your face.
“maybe now you’ll pay attention, hm?” she smiles, and sits on your face.
