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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Brat Taming: Part 13

A/N: Smut is prevalent in the chapter, with overstimulation, vibrators, teasing and edging, domination/submission and punishments. Please don’t read it if it makes you uncomfortable

Ari had certain expectations when it came to making his office run seamlessly, as he should have, and there was an incredible amount of tenacity to his patience. He was not a man who could easily be angered by desperate attempts to get him to react unless there was a direct threat to the people he loved and wanted to protect.

It was one of his traits as an alpha that separated him from what seemed like the other 50% of alphas who seemed to make up the designation.

It seemed as if at least half of their designation had the same distinctive abilities to be good alphas without having to rely on traits that could have been deemed toxic. Ari and Steve, even Ransom if he had tried to put in more effort to not be such an arrogant prick to other people, were all good alphas at the root of themselves.

Both of the older alphas had deeply embedded protective tendencies, an ability to understand and compassionately grasp the workings of an omega’s hindbrain without reducing them to their basest selves.

Ransom was cocky, he was an arrogant and rich alpha who could have had anything or anyone handed to him on a silver platter. He was born with a silver spoon shoved up his ass and that had damaged his ability to deny the toxic traits that made omegas want to settle down with the alpha.

However like Ari & Steve believed, Ransom only had to meet the right omegas who wouldn’t immediately cater and submit to his whims, but rather they would try to push him to his limits and make him back down. It was what made you and Jake everything those alphas needed.

It was your fire and your ability and nature to be bratty that drove every one of your alphas crazy with need. Your tendency as omegas to feel comfortable enough to push back against the alphas was both embraced and revelled in.

They enjoyed their omegas brattiness, the back and forth that aided the bonds that were being built was a necessity to have an unbreakable relationship.

However patient Ari was, and however indifferent he could have been, he had found your punishment just as invigorating and addictive as your attitude was.

He was just waiting for it, just waiting for the opportunity to punish you as a good alpha would have. The alphas knew, all of them had been aware, that you and Jake were dealing with the sensations of being marked and mated.

They had been well aware that you both were settling in your bratty moods and with a common agreement between you, albeit made through your natural bond as best friends and lovers and had kickstarted the punishments that were befitting for both of you.

With you at work in the office making comments under your breath about Ari and his first assistant degrading the choice to have someone who was so aggravating without trying, had incited his decision to punish you.

Normally this patient alpha would have let you mumble every comment under the sun about his first assistant who he knew could be difficult to deal with, however today Ari couldn’t let it slide.

Whether it was his unwillingness to go through a teleconference knowing you were outside of his office wearing a skirt that was far too easy to slide up your thighs and a piece of cloth obscuring your sweet little cunt from his view, or whether it was his vivacious lust and hunger, it had all ended at the same conclusion.

Ari had stepped out of his office, pausing to listen to you muttering your annoyance at both your boss and the woman you claimed was the wicked bitch of the West.

He had watched you while leaning against the frame of his door, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked as his eyes had become engrossed with thick seams of desire. It was reflective of his need for you, his dire hunger that aided him to make a demand that caused hair at the nape of your neck to stand and your eyes to grow wide.

“Y/N, my office. Now.” The command was sent from his mouth, and you were immediately aware of how rooted he was in his alpha hindbrain.

He had seen your lips part with a potential argument, a rebuttal that he wished you would’ve let fall from your lips. He wished you would have fired back with some kind of aggravated response to Ari’s demand, earning another punishment that you didn’t know was coming.

It could’ve been a demand that could have been negated, or at least an attempt could have been made, however, Ari was pleased to see you standing immediately to follow him toward his office.

“Is there anything you need of me, Mr. Levinson?” His first assistant had already started to rise to her feet, overeager to please him in any manner despite already being in a steady and comfortable relationship with her alpha.

It was after Ari had settled a hand on your back to lead you into his office, to the punishment waiting for you, that he had looked over his shoulder with a controlled half-smirk on his face.

His first assistant was not guarded with her disdain for you and your role in the office, especially since you had been sleeping with the boss and getting away with it. However, Ari was just as displeased about her attitude toward you and had already been making plans to have another reasonable offer sent her way for a new job.

“Go home, you have the rest of the afternoon off.” Ari had closed the door without allowing another potential argument and just as quickly locked the door behind him.

He stood and faced you, silence between the two of you was not stale or stagnant, it was fuelled by desire and mild confusion, knowledge of what was to come and expectations of pleasure and pain.

“I have a meeting, Y/N.” Ari’s long stride had taken him past you and around the side of the desk, his leather chair angled to the left of his computer.

“If you needed me to take notes-“

“Did I ask you to take notes?” Ari spoke over you with a bite, the force behind his words making you shudder and whimper simultaneously. “You’re going to keep me occupied.”

Ari placed a hand upon the back of the chair, steadying it as he sat down upon the cushioned bottom and then he spread his legs. His cock was strained and throbbing beneath the seams of his slacks and with a single wave of his hand, you had started to walk toward him with your hands by your sides and your eyes still unnerved.

When you were within reach, Ari grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him and his hard-on, your palm jutted toward the bulbous head. Ari’s voice was laced heavily with need, your name falling from his lips as he made you squeeze his erection.

The intent was known and the command had been all too easily absorbed as you recoiled and lifted your skirt, your hands holding the material in order for him to hook his fingers in the band of your panties to yank them down your thighs.

“This is a punishment,” Ari addressed you with a firm tone yet no less loving than before, “you wanna be a brat? You get punished.”

He enjoyed your verbal exhilaration when he smacked your ass, his palm cracking against your flesh before his fingers dug into you. He had pulled you back toward him, keeping a hand on your ass and the other busied with freeing his thick and throbbing cock.

“You’re going to keep my cock warm while I take this teleconference. If your try and get off my cock before the meeting is finished, you’ll be under the desk sucking me off. If you cum before I say you can, you won’t cum for a week.” Ari’s hands settled on your hips and he arranged you between his legs, giving you no room to protest as he lowered you to his cock, your puffy pussy lips already wet.

The head of his cock had started to part your labia, the seeping precum mixing with your desire, and his name all too easily fell from your lips when he made you take all of him into your tight cunt. When he had settled you in your place, Ari leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the nape of your neck, almost entirely too soft and contradictory to his demanding dominance.

“You have your warning, brat.” Ari’s lips parted and he nipped your flesh as a warning. “I would love any reasons to punish you further, let’s see if you earn the right to cum or if you’ll end up with a week of denial.”

It was hard to breathe without shuddering, hard to contend with the twitch of Ari’s thick bulbous head as it plunged into your cunt.

It was hard to function and focus on taking notes while Ari was on a teleconference since you were being stretched and filled to the brim, wholly and entirely stuffed. He was ruthless, smacking your puffy and hard clit when you faltered, all entirely fuelled by his irritation with your attitude.

“Maybe next time you’ll think about being such a brat. I’m your alpha sweetheart but I’m also your boss.”

“Are you focusing?” You shuddered and whimpered, his voice husky and hoarse in your ear while his fingers deftly plucked at your hard little nub. “I almost feel sorry for you…but I know you like it.”

“J-Jake-” your voice shook, indelibly able to detect his state of being like a dull fog at the back of your mind.

“Yes, Jake is learning a hard lesson too.” Ari purred huskily in your ear and then taunt you further, starting to tap his fingers against your hard clit with every illicit breath you’d taken.

“We’re planning on taking full advantage of our private dining room, puppy. And you are going to take your punishment with pride.”

Wine, he thought as he swallowed what was given to him, wine should’ve made him feel better and yet it was another delectable sensation intent on ruining him. A good wine that Ransom assured would be palatable with the edging Jake deserved, and he was right.

He had been overstimulated already, entirely too full and stretched with a vibrator in his tight asshole and a ring pulsing at the base of his cock, Jake was being dragged through countless rounds of edging that had only been part of his punishment.

The argument that started it all had come from Jake and focused more on Steve than Ransom. It was a few remarks about Steve’s sexuality and the urge to just jump from the edge of the cliff. Jake had pressed Steve to be bolder with himself, given that there wasn’t anything to fear about being open with how and who he loved.

And though the comments had meant to encourage Steve, it had taken a turn when Steve had embraced Jake’s open brattiness and reassured him that being bold was nothing new to Jake.

“Full, puppy?” Jake’s shiver was inductive of his tension, his cock begging for release that wasn’t granted to him by Steve or Ransom. “I think you’re enjoying yourself.”

It was pleasured and painful torture that left no bruises or marks. It was the sensation of the dildo in his ass vibrating when Steve turned it on and the fallout after it was turned off to give him a chance to calm down. Between the remote in Steve’s control, the remote in Ransom’s control and what he could detect from you, Jake was truly going to lose his mind.

“He can handle it, he’s a big boy.” Steve was almost erotically sadistic when he leaned toward Jake to cup his cheek and turn his head. “You can handle it, right Jake?”

His lips met Steve’s and he tried to chase the feeling, only to fall short and whine in desperation when Steve pulled away.

The super soldier had let go of Jake’s chin and patted his cheek twice, and then he leaned back against his chair and raised a hand to signal the waiter. With striking confidence that made Jake believes he had been playing the entire time, Steve had brazenly raised the remote in his other hand and pressed the button twice.

The shock of the faux cock in his ass had earned another husky groan that fell too easily from Jake’s lips, and the sudden jerk of his hips to seek some kind of pleasurable release from the toys that he was being teased with.

“If you cum, you’re going to pay for it.” Ransom’s warning was whispered as a seductive command in his ear, the deterrent coming with another level of erotic intimacy as the alpha command had settled in his hindbrain.

Thick fingers slipped beneath the table, a hand sliding up a covered thigh while he was truly and well on his way to losing his mind. Trapped under electrifying gazes that burned through him, it wasn’t just one but two that had given him no reprieve from the building tension and cathartic need to reach his end. This was a punishment for his decision to push both of them to their limits, though it wasn’t conventional in any sense.

When Jake had been under the impression that he was going to be punished, he’d thought it would involve Shibari or some restraints to keep him still. He’d never anticipated his ass being stuffed full of a vibrating cock while his shaft and balls were being stimulated by the same torturous quivers.

It was clear that Jake and yourself were being manhandled by your alphas to be punished, he could feel your pleasured pain through the bonds that you and Jake had formed from childhood, and he knew that he wasn’t alone.

“You’ve barely touched your food.” Teasing words that rolled off a silver tongue paired with fingers that slipped further up his thigh before ultimately squeezing the thick throbbing hard-on trapped beneath Italian slacks. “You should eat something.”

“Something wrong, pup?” Steve crooned, raising his fork to his lips to enjoy the seared steak he had been craving. “Not hungry?”

“Ohhh fuck…” Jake’s head lolled back, his eyes screwing closed as vibrations coursed in his ass, the vibrator used to drive him toward a slow orgasm was maddening. “P-please-!”

“I think we need dessert,” Ransom leaned in close to Jake, his tongue lapping at sweat-laden flesh while his hand closed around Jake’s clothed cock. “You’re going to have to wait longer to cum, brat.”

“I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” Jake hissed, his eyes straining to open and his teeth gritting as he cursed with the tension that was rattling him. “Please, fuck-!”

He jerked his hips and dug his nails into the tablecloth with almost enough tension to tear the fabric clean. Jake had ground his teeth with every pulse that rocked his nervous system and drove his mind closer to temporary insanity.

There was no denying their domineering status as alphas, and Jake would later swear on his life that he loved being their little subby omega but at the moment he was fighting for his life.

“If you want to cum,” Ransom let go of his trapped erection and deftly unzipped Jake’s fly, his hand slipping in the opening to grasp his cock under the table, “you have to beg for it.”

The sound that fell from Jake’s lips was garbled and twisted, it wasn’t coherent in any manner but yet it still made his alphas starkly proud of the omega who had resisted until this moment.

He hadn’t been mentally aware of what he was saying, he was letting his tongue work on its own and had only recognized the permission that was given to him after Ransom had dug his teeth back into the mark on Jake’s neck.

The vibrations hadn’t ceased even as Jake had been granted the ability to chase his orgasm. His hips rocked as he threw himself back into the chair, his head lolling as their names rolled off his tongue as an erotic sonnet. It was blinding and white hot pleasure that shot through every nerve ending in his body, Jake’s mind contorted and twisted by desire and release while Ransom’s hand pumped Jake’s shaft.

And even as he started to come down from that high, pleasure was still falling upon him when he felt Ransom’s lips against Jake’s cock to clean his shaft and bulbous head.

“Thank you,” Jake’s chest was heaving with every strained breath, his body wracked with leftover trace amounts of electrifying pleasure, “that was incredible.”

His chin was grasped again, his face turned toward Steve and relief had soon been replaced by anticipation when the super soldier claimed Jake’s mouth as his.

“You’re not done yet.”

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 years

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All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You managed to get away from Ransom, but how long will your independence last? (Or that one when you had to face your own feelings)

Warnings: Soft!Dark Ransom, Swearing, Breeding kink, Sexual themes, dubcon if you squint, allusion to drugging. If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: and we made it to the end! Forever grateful for the love you showed Ransom and his little kitten! Kindly remember to support your content creators by leaving a comment or reblogging!

Masterlist, Part 1, 2, End

“There you are,” Ransom heard your small and soothing voice from behind where he was sitting, his head resting on his massive palms, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Ransom would have looked at you, he would have - if only the world stopped spinning for one goddamn second then he could look at you. His best friend in the whole world. The girl he loved so much that it physically hurt him when he couldn’t get to you. Or see you.

Like now.

“What happened? Can you stand?” You asked as you kneeled beside him, gently lifting his head to you. You wanted- no, needed to know that he was okay. You were away for a month, your family visited your grandmother in the country because she suffered a fall. Your parents, ever the loving ones, wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay. And Ransom, despite his insistence and borderline pleading to go with you, was not granted his wish.

“It’s family matter, Ransom. I’m sure you understand, sweetie,” your mother told the young Ransom Drysdale, her hand on his shoulder as she willed him to understand. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be with you. Why were they keeping you from him?This was going to be the first time that the two of you spent this much apart.

He wanted to make sure it would be the last.

And with great reluctance, Ransom saw you off that morning, his form from the side mirror becoming smaller and smaller as your father drove further, and yet, he didn’t move.

You ran your hand over his cheek, assessing just how high or drunk he was, your hand sweeping his hair away from his face. “Let’s get you settled in your room?” You suggested with a small voice, not wanting his head to hurt any longer. You stood up to open the door, your focus on getting him hydrated and rested. You had only stepped once away from him when you felt his strong hand caging your wrist, and when you turned to look at the young, disheveled Ransom sitting on the bathroom floor, you couldn’t help but felt the pain that he was undeniably feeling.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his voice groggy. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t leave you, Ran. I’m just going to open the door for you,” you reasoned.

“You’re not going to leave me again?”

“I’m really not-“

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t ever leave me again,” he ordered you, his gripped on you tightening. But it was the look on his face that told you he needed you more than he would ever admit, that maybe, you were the one keeping the great Ransom together.

“I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

He woke up with a start. His whole body sweating again, and he was shaking. He had been like this ever since you left three months ago and he couldn’t find you. He could still hear your promise not to leave him, your voice echoing in his mind.

But you did leave him. You promised, kitten. You swore. Now why weren’t you with him?

Tiredly, he rubbed his hand on his face, willing the sleepiness to go away. Not that he had much sleep ever since you left, no. He hadn’t been sleeping right. Just like the time you left him when you were younger, he couldn’t cope right without your presence beside him. He refused to know life without you.

The silence of the house offended him, it had offended him ever since he woke up without you. He searched, and searched, and searched the whole house. But you weren’t there. It was as if you vanished out of the thin air. He had tried calling you multiple times, but you just wouldn’t answer. And it wounded him, not being able to get to you. It wounded him, not being able to hold you. And when an animal was wounded, it became more vicious.

He almost scared Meg when he shouted at her for not stopping you. She saw you leave, kitten, and she let you.

“What was I supposed to do, asshole? Stop her? She’s not a prisoner!”

You weren’t. You were his wife. And it was unacceptable that you would just up and leave the minute he confessed his decades-long love for you. Was his love so repulsive that you would rather leave?Ransom drove around, but still no you. Ransom asked around, your family, your friends, your colleagues, but they claimed not to have seen you.

So where were you hiding, kitten?

His phone made a sound, Joni messaging him again about Meg’s allowance. Ransom scoffed, deleting the numerous messages from his so-called family about their wants and needs.

If Ransom wasn’t happy, then no one else should be happy, too.

And his happiness was still out there, hiding from him. So until then, they would be as miserable as he was.

Another week passed by, and yet still no sign of you. At this point, Ransom had not been in his office for almost a month. Paperworks were mounted on his office by now, board members were looking up to him for direction. Before you left, he would have cared. He wanted to be the man deserving of you. And you, you believed so much that he could be that man that even he believed he could, and so he did. But then you left. After turning his life around, after taking reins of the business, after being the doting husband, you could still not accept his love.

He knew how he depended on you for his survival, he just didn’t know how much he did until you were gone.

Linda strolled in with a huff, her eyes scanning over the once neat house that Ransom and his wife shared, now a startling mess. Shards of glasses from bottle thrown across the room littered the wooden flooring, curtains closed out enveloping the room into darkness, and in the midst of it all was her only son, Ransom, Linda shook her head slowly, thoroughly disappointed with whatever was happening between the two of you. You were inseparable from him, and now you were gone, and he was a mess.

What once was a clean shaven, hair combed back, and formidable man was now a shell of a man sitting on the floor with his leg bent, the other stretched out before him. Ransom’s eye bags were as dark as what he was feeling. In his large hand was the bottle of alcohol he had been drinking, his finger showing the ring that symbolized that he would be yours forever.

If he noticed his mother walking near where he was, he gave no indication. He tended to do that these days, let things passed him by. Funny how he could never do that to you.

“My God,” her elegant voice drawled out as she picked the throw pillow that fell on the ground, a victim of one of his meltdowns, “You, son, are a mess.” She scoffed the last part in disgust before she proceeded to get him a glass of water.

Ransom smirked, “I wonder where I inherited it from.” His voice was gravelly as if he hadn’t spoken in days since you up and left. Linda rolled her eyes before giving Ransom the drink. She watched him for a moment, her memory going back to that day you had to leave him to visit your injured grandmother. Despite his young age then, Linda thought that Ransom must have aged a decade when you left. He was a mess just like now, he missed his classes, he goaded anyone into fighting with him every single day until Linda had no choice but to call you and inform you how self-destructive Ransom was becoming. Linda remembered all too well how Harlan implored her vehemently not to call you.

“He has to learn how to live without her. Linda, that boy’s attachment to her is unhealthy. What will he do if she’s gone?”

His wise words echoed in her mind as she watched her disheveled son. Her father was right. But now, it was too late to change the course of fate. She would see to it that her only son wouldn’t be ruined because of you. She would make sure that Ransom got what he so clearly desired. She would ensure that Ransom would possess the family he had always secretly dreamed of.

You closed the book you were reading, your eyes trained on the movement from the window to the old, elegant lady as she stepped on your walkway, her heels click-clacking as she surveyed the house, her eyes hidden by her humungous shades. You waited until she knocked on your front door, and you knew you had to open it.

If she found out about this country house that you inherited from your grandmother, then it wouldn’t take long before Ransom found you, too.

And you weren’t ready just yet.

You opened the door, and it was as if Linda Drysdale got unburdened by something because she did exhale a sigh of relief. “There you are, dear.”

You watched her take a sip of the her tea, her eyes roaming over the place you had been calling home for three months now. “So this was where you had been hiding,” she commented, her voice lacking the malice it usually had.

“I’m not hiding,” you told her, your hand twisting the dress you were wearing, a telltale sign of your nervousness.

She smiled at you, her demeanor pleasant as she regarded you, “No? Then what are you doing miles away from your husband, dear?” She asked, and you knew she was really curious. You, who was always stuck to the hips with Ransom, surprisingly survived months without him. Linda always thought that the two of you had a weird co-dependency with each other. Turned out, only Ransom had that with you. And you? You could survived without him.

You couldn’t answer, because to do so would uncover the truth behind your marriage. So you stayed silent.

She cocked her head to the side, “Did you finally meet the true Ransom, dear?” You shifted your eyes away from her. Ransom had been nothing but kind to you. But she took your silence as an approval of what she said, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you on the day of your marriage. For what it’s worth, you were the only one keeping Ransom together. And not that you’re gone?” She scoffed and chuckled under her breath.

You frowned, the worry you felt for Ransom intensifying as his own mother insinuated that he was worse, “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that underneath it all, my son is just a one grownup brat who would do absolutely anything to get what he wants.”

You knew you loved him. You had grown up with him, after all. You loved Ransom. You just weren’t sure if you loved him like the way he wanted you to. And that was what you had been thinking of for the past months. You didn’t know whether what happened that night was just a one, big mistake. You were scared to lose him, but you knew you couldn’t keep him. Not now.

But what Linda said made you want to make sure that he was okay, that he was going to be okay. That old instinctual feeling you had, the one that desperately wanted Ransom to be okay resurfaced. You needed to know he was okay, despite not knowing the way you loved him.

“Is he okay?”

She regarded you for a moment, her face losing all the smiles she flashed to you and only the truth marred her face, “Do you remember what a mess he was when you left to go here?” She didn’t need to hear your answer, your face must have answered for you. You remembered that day. How much he was shaking, how he clinged to you like a little child scared to be left, how he wouldn’t let you leave that night. You remembered it all.

“He’s worse now.”

You decided to see Ransom when Meg called you crying, telling you that Ransom stopped supporting her studies and that even she could not reach him. You felt like you needed to do something, no one should suffer just because of your fallout with him.

Time didn’t mean much to you now. You were discovering life without him, the only constant companion you have had in your whole life. Your parents had no idea what happened, or where you were. The only reason they knew that you weren’t with Ransom anymore was because he went there, demanding to know where you were. You mother was worried, but when you told her you needed this, she backed down. The only thing she asked of you was to at least message her weekly.

Your father, on the other hand, was understandably furious. Not at you, but at Ransom. He was convinced that Ransom did something unforgivable to you that made you finally separate yourself from his control over you. Your father was never Ransom’s biggest fan, in fact, he was harder to convince than Ransom’s own family. Once, before the wedding, you asked him if he didn’t believe that Ransom loved you.

“Of course I believe he loves you,” he grunted under his breath, his eyes watching Ransom who was playing fight with your little cousins. It was sad how he was closer to your cousins than he was to his own. Your cousins light up when they saw Ransom, as if he was the most interesting adult in their world. “Perhaps, that was the problem, I can see he loves you too much.”

To that, you didn’t know how to answer. You didn’t even understand him at that point. Maybe now, you did understand him. Everyone could see what you couldn’t.

And if that was a fact, then what did that make you?

You knew you couldn’t run forever, and your parents taught you better than to run from the face of adversity. You looked down at your feet, still pondering on how to approach this- him. But you knew this had to be done. Meg was counting on you, her education was counting on you.

You punched in the code of the main door, your hand shaking with anxiety.

What if he changed the lock?

What if he didn’t want to see you?

What if he hated you now?

Only when you heard the familiar beeping sound of the door unlocking did you exhale. The house was…dark. All the curtains were drawn shut, you could hear crunching noise from the shards of glasses you couldn’t avoid stepping on, and the whole house just seemed so…cold. It was so unlike before when you arrived home and there would be soft music playing, with Ransom cooking dinner, his white shirt folded to his elbow, a sweet smile on his lips as he embraced you, tucking your head gently under his chin as he ran his wide hands on your back, gently massaging the weariness away. When before the house always had a light on, because he once told you in a fit of vulnerability how he had always hated going home in darkness because it would mean no one was home and he would be alone, now it was just a glaring darkness. No one knew this side of Ransom, behind his arrogant persona, was a person caring enough that plants just grew when he cared for them. Plants just didn’t seem to stay alive with you, but with him, with those large but gentle hands, they seemed to just flourish. You had joked once that you would buy him a plant shop to which he scoffed that he would never sell his plants that he considered his children.

The day you moved in here, Ransom took care of everything. He always did. He always knew how to take care of you. You remembered that day as clear as the sky, his contented smile as he looked at the house the two of you were going to live in, his disheveled hair from carrying the heavy stuff, how the two of you ended up sleeping on the living room floor because your beds were not ready yet.

And then it dawned on you, you didn’t want to experience life with anyone but him.

Holy shit, you were in love with your best friend.

The realization was almost strong enough to knock you off your feet, and with renewed strength, you ran to every room, calling for him as you did so.

You ended up in his room, and yet, Ransom was not there.

Where was Ransom?

You went everywhere trying to find him, called his family asking if they knew where he was, called Linda who only scoffed, ‘Finally,’ went to his office only to find out that he hadn’t been there for more than a month. His secretary looked so relieved to see you.

The sun was setting when you went to your temporary solace, and with a heavy heart, admitted defeat for today.

Your weary legs carried you to your porch, only to discover a car parked in front of your house. You stepped closer, trying to look if someone was in the car when you saw a silhouette of a man hunched over the steering wheel. And with a heavy heart, you recognized your husband.

Softly, you opened the door, the sound making him looked at you. You kneeled down slowly, your hand touching his left hand, your fingers absentmindedly running over his ring, “There you are,” you said, looking intently at his sleep deprived eyes and the tattered sweater you hated so much, “I’ve been looking for you.”

Ransom didn’t know whether to believe you were in front of him, he was second guessing even his own eyes at this point. The way he stared at you could unsettle anyone, but not you. You offered him a small smile, “Can you stand, Ran?”

He was quiet for a moment, he was frowning as if the mere thought of speaking was painful.

“You promised me you would never leave me.”

You had to swallow your tears, because yes, you did promise me. And you broke that promise when he could never break even the smallest promises he made to you.

“I-I’m sorry.”

What else was there to say?

“D-did I hurt you?” He asked gravely, strands of his hair fell on his forehead as he looked down at you. You were shaking your head before he could even finished speaking. No, he could never hurt you. He was so gentle that night, so loving, so giving that it pained you that he thought he hurt you.

“Was I too rough? Were you unwilling-“

“No, Ran-“

“Then why did you run? Why are you still running?” His voice was hard, but his eyes showed you how terrified he was of the thought of physically hurting you.

“Because,” you paused before looking at his eyes that shone with pain and weariness, and love, so much love that it terrified you to no end. “Because, your love terrifies me.”

“Well, kitten. It terrifies me, too. I am terrified of how only you can break me.”

Your lips trembled as the tears you were trying so hard to keep in bay finally fell down your face. You wanted to say how sorry you were to hurt him, how sorry you were to run from the only man who ever loved you wholeheartedly, so much that it could make or break him. You tried to say something, but each time you tried, your throat closed up from trying to keep everything together.

And kitten, even in pain, Ransom was still wiping your tears off of your face. Even when his own heart was breaking, he was still the one comforting you.

He was smiling down at you so tenderly that it broke your heart, “It’s okay. Break my heart, do what you want with it, and I’d still love you.”

“I am scared-“

“What are you so terrified of?”

“I am afraid of losing you. You are my best fri-“

“I want to be more than that. We already are more than that, kitten. You just have to see it. Can you see it? Can you open your eyes for us?”

And when you couldn’t answer, Ransom urged you to go inside the house as the night grew colder. You found yourself seated in your small and dainty dining table, his back facing you as he busied himself with making you hot coffee. He looked back at you, his eyes dark before offering you a small smile. Ransom’s muscular form made the house smaller than it actually was. The steaming mug was placed gently in front of you. You took a tentative sip, and you couldn’t believe how good the taste was. Strangely, the after taste was something that you had never tasted before.

“I love you.” He stated so calmly. He observed you, never taking his eyes rom you. He probably wouldn’t take his eyes away from you for a long time. Not when you were finally in front of him again. “Are you ready to hear that now? I figured, you weren’t ready to hear it then. That’s why you ran, didn’t you?”

You shifted from your seat, squirming from the intensity of his eyes, You always knew that you knew Ransom in all his forms. But now, you couldn’t say that without a doubt. You didn’t know the man who claimed to love you. You couldn’t help but think back on the years you spent with Ransom.

Were there clues you missed?

Were there lingering looks from him that you chose to ignore?

Was there love that shone in his eyes that you were too blind to see?

There must have been. You were just too naive to see it. Or maybe, you were just too scared to understand it. But the thing was, until when were you going to be scared?

“I looked for you today,” you admitted, your hands holding the mug securely, taking comfort in the heat it offered, “And then I realized, I love you. I realized you are the only one I want to go through life with.”

A dark and guilty look passed Ransom’s face, and you didn’t catch it before he schooled it with his calm demeanor.

“I’m sorry for running away. I was scared, and I realized I should have talked about it with you. I’m sorry for hurting you. I left because I felt like I owe it to you to love you back. But it’s not. You loved me even though I didn’t, you took care of me despite the times I loved someone else. I don’t owe you anything, Ransom. I love you because I love-“

And before you could even finish, he stood up, grabbed the back of your head, and kissed you like a man starving, like a man who had not drank water for months, and in a way, he was dying from thirst from all those years of keeping the love he wanted to shout to the world for himself. All those years he saw you with someone else, all those years you chose him over them, all those birthdays you never once missed. You were there.

You didn’t owe him anything. In fact, it was him who owed you for all the love you taught him to feel.

And it was in that sense that he felt sorry for what he did when he thought you couldn’t love him back, when he thought you found his love so repulsive that you would rather leave tonight than be with him.

He was sorry for doing that before he knew you loved him. Since you left him, Ransom had been on the verge of panicking. Not being able to touch you, not being able to know where you were, how you were, who you were with did things to his already possessive and barely concealed caveman attitude that was begging for him to claim you. His desperation for you was like a breathing thing, always in the back of his mind. He felt guilty with what he did, but not enough to stop claiming you in the most basic way possible.

You moaned in his mouth, the taste of his lips felt so unexplainably good, the feel of his warm hands clutching your arm felts so warm that you wanted to just…be with him. You never experienced this kind of feeling, you felt so hot, you felt so needy.

You ached, and you knew only him could clenched your thirst. You needed him more than breathing. You didn’t know what possessed you to push him until he was near your sofa. You pushed him down, and with confidence you didn’t know you had, you climbed on top of him, the dress you were wearing gave you the freedom to part your legs on either side of him. His face was angled up to you, his eyes trained to your needy expressions, the soft gasp you let out when you rubbed your center down on his hard cock. Ransom could only watch so long before he pulled down your dress so hard it ripped in the front, baring your breasts to him.

And he was hungry.

He was licking and sucking your nipples, pinching them in his fingers as he made you felt…more. You couldn’t explain why you were so horny, you just were. And the need for him wouldn’t go on its own, no. You needed him. You needed his cock inside you.

“Yeah? You want my cock, my wife? You want your husband’s cock inside you?” Ransom growled, his dark eyes trained on you as he popped one nipple in his sinful mouth.

You must have said that out loud. But you could only keen when you heard him removing his belt, could only felt more warm when you heard the sound of his zipper, and when you felt the heat coming from his cock, you knew he had you.

“You want this cock?”

Ransom flipped the two of you, and with him on top of you, looming above you with his hard cock standing to attention, you could do nothing but salivate. You were feeling so…hot that you couldn’t stand it.

“Please, baby, please give me your cock-“ you were almost crying at this point. You lifted his sweater from his body, and Ransom helped you. With his muscular body and glorious cock in front of you, his pants lowered enough to reveal his beautiful cock at you, you were a goner.

Ransom thrusted his cock on your stomach, showing you just how deep he would be once he was inside you. You couldn’t help but ran your fingers over the glistening head, and without second thought, you brought your moist fingers to your mouth, tasting his essence.

“Say you love me first,” he ordered at you, his hot breath making you shivered as he licked the expanse of your neck. “Say it.”

And it must have taken you longer to say it, because before you knew it, he was biting your neck, making you moaned harder from the pain and the pleasure he was doing as he rubbed your clit with his thick fingers. You could only hold on to his thick wrist as he expertly played with your cunt.

“I-I love you-“ you moaned as you unexpectedly came so hard that you could feel your cum dripping down your thighs.

“Messy wife,” he tsked at you before kissing your lips passionately, “Don’t worry. Your husband will lick every. Single. Drop.” He was thrusting his fingers deep inside you with each word he uttered.

You closed your eyes as you felt his fingers part your folds, as he leaned down and licked the line of your pussy. And he moaned like a man unhinged. You thought you came hard the first time, but with Ransom hellbent on making you come harder, you stood no chance. By the time he was done, your cream was coating not only his hands, but also his chin.

He smirked at you. You just came.

But you still wanted more.

Why did you still want more?

How could you still want more?

Ransom scooped you off the sofa, he softly asked where your bedroom was and then he beelined for your bedroom. Gently depositing you on your bed, Ransom stripped of his pants. The veins in his arms protruding as he lowered his clothes off his body. He crawled to you, at this point you no longer had the strength, he spread your legs so wide that you had no choice but to accommodate his large body in between them.

Only being supported by his muscular arms, he looked down at you with love and darkness in his eyes, “I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum,” he whispered as he licked his palm before rubbing his cock with his hand, his eyes trained on you as he did so. “Once I’m done, little kitten, I’m going to watch my come drip out of you. And after that? I’m going to fill you again.”

You gasped as he said those words, your pussy unbelievable wet with want. You were being lead on by your emotions and needs, but somehow your brain still worked and reminded you of that one pressing thing.

“I’m not on the pill, Ran-“

“I no longer care. I am your husband. It’s my right to fuck my baby-“ he growled as he aligned himself on your core, his strong arm lifting your leg on his shoulder, opening you wider to his lustful gaze. “In you.” And then he speared you, impaling you on his massive girth.

“We’re going to get married again,” he growled in your ear, your gasps swallowed down by his kisses as he sucked your tongue. Your pussy clenched as he fucked you so deep you could feel him so deep in you.

And you had no choice but to come.

You screamed his name so hard, but Ransom was still fucking you so good.

“Tell me you’ll marry me again!” He panted, his face contorted that of a pleasure but he looked like a general, willing you to follow his commands. “Tell me you love me!”

And you could only scream your yes.

Only when you screamed that you loved him back did his rhythm became erratic, chasing its own release as he slammed faster and harder into you. You felt his release inside you, his warm and life-giving release.

And as promised, he watched the come gushing out of you with wonder in his eyes.

Ransom had you so many times that night, always coming inside you, always looking at you with unrestrained darkness and love. And when the sun started rising, he was looking at you, as if he was traumatized by you leaving him when he was sleeping. When you finally woke up, you found yourself face to face with your husband, no longer running away from the truth and your feelings, his voice soft as he said, “I love you with every manipulative and twisted part of me. I love you the only way I know how.”

And your smile only told him that you accepted his love, no matter how dark it could get.

Meg looked down at the unanswered message to Ransom. ‘Did it work?’

Perhaps, his only answer was the notification from her bank about the thousands of dollars from Ransom Drysdale.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #possessive ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x y/n #soft!dark ransom drysdale #soft!dark ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans fic #soft!dark ransom

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rubynationwins · 2 years

Text

So You Want To Tango? Part 2 (18+)

Stepbrother! Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!PlusSize! Reader (Soft!Dark!Ransom)

Series summary: All you were trying to do was lose your v-card, was that too much to ask? Apparently so, according to your stepbrother.

Main Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Chapter Warnings: Soft!Dark!Ransom, reader is a junior in college, plus-size!reader, virgin!reader smut, non/dud-con, fingering (f receiving), swearing, ransom being an ass, choking, manhandling, degradation, slut shaming, manipulation, angst, mentions of self-deprecation/body issues, stepcest. 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 4,973

A/N: This part is a lot longer than the first, I guess that might explain why it’s taken me so long to fucking finish! But I did, woo-hoo! I also wanted to note that I've never written step-sibling stuff b4 this series so this is new territory for me. It's used more as a plot device and not as a 'kink' if that makes sense. I just wanted the kind of dynamic it creates & it works for me so whatever. (Fuck it, right?) Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

(If anyone is confused about the timeline, reader arrived from college at the Drysdale residence on Friday, part 1 takes place on Sunday, and this part is about a week after part 1. Hope that helps!)

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

It had been a week since the incident with Ransom and you had done your best to act like everything was okay, like your ex-stepbrother hadn’t shoved his tongue down your throat and threatened to take away your virginity. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as you had hoped to forget his twisted words.

“I’ll be happy to teach you how to dance like the slut you were always meant to be.”

An involuntary shudder ran down your spine at the memory of the intense heat of his body pressed against yours as he spoke those vile words into your ear. Whenever your… interaction with Ransom popped into your head, you felt a deep course of shame roll through you. Not only at how he utterly humiliated you, and not just at how he’d so easily set your nerves aflame but at how his accusations had hit you right to your core.

“When you get to be your age without having a dick shoved up your needy little hole, you open your legs up to whatever comes your way.”

You despised his misogynistic slut-shaming, but a niggling at the back of your mind said he was right. You had only agreed to Tod’s proposition because you just wanted to get it over with. You were tired of feeling excluded from your peers, tired of feeling like you weren’t mature just because you hadn’t “popped your cherry,” as some people put it. That pressure seemed to outweigh your moral sensibilities because you had given it up to the first guy to show you some interest.

You hadn’t really liked him – he was one of Ransom’s friends for fuck’s sake – but when Tod came on to you that day it felt like your only option. Taking him up on his offer for a quickie in one of the guest bedrooms hadn’t felt like all your hopes had finally been answered, it had felt like you were giving up. Giving up on a real relationship. Giving up on having sex with someone you actually cared about and who cared about you too.

You had already been regretting your decision when Ransom had burst into the room and sent everything to shit, but that wasn’t any excuse for the way he’d treated you like some hussy. He didn’t own you. He wasn’t in charge of your body, or your sex life, for that matter. You gulped when, again, you recalled what he’d said.

“I’ll show you who really owns this cunt: me.”

Fuck him and his domineering, supercilious attitude.

The more you thought about it, the more you were convinced his “promise” had just been another way to mess with you. The fact that you hardly saw him this past week seemed proof enough. He was a lazy trust fund kid who barely had a job, it’s not like he had much to do other than lay around the house whenever he wasn’t off with his friends partying and being a playboy douche. He was definitely staying away from the house, and if you had to guess you’d have a pretty clear choice as to why: you.

He was avoiding you. If given the chance, you would be doing the same, but it’s hard to avoid someone when they’re not around. His arrogant ass was probably worried you would try and take him up on his “offer” and that he’d have to back down.

Of course, you would never do such a thing, but it was clear that he viewed you as nothing more than a wanton skank who was going to throw herself at his knees, begging for him to rescue her from the woes of virginity. What a fucking joke. At least his absence saved you the constant anxiety of looking over your shoulder and jumping every time you heard a door shut, afraid he would corner you and try to make good on his word.

It was obvious now that he didn’t actually want to fuck you, it had been the heat of the moment that made his body react that way – that made yours react that way. Not to mention, he couldn’t possibly be legitimately attracted to you. It was just the forbidden thrill that riled him up.

You didn’t look like any of the women he’d ever brought home, he cycled through plenty and you recognized a certain type he preferred. A type that you had, and never would, be able to fit into – quite literally. That realization should have relieved you, but it somehow left a sour taste in your mouth. Whatever. The thing to focus on was that Ransom couldn’t give two fucks about you and the incident had just been a little blip.

With that confirmation in mind, you could walk around the house like normal and not act like some coward. Instead, you walked around confidently while internally wrestling with the feelings and images he had implanted in your head.

Sure, Ransom was conventionally attractive, handsome even, but beneath his well-defined stature was a rotted pile of bullshit. That’s what you kept repeating to yourself when the feel of his thick fingers digging into your ass flooded your mind. You replaced the sensation of his kiss that still lingered after how many days with the reminder of how many other mouths he’d shoved his tongue into before.

You were nothing to him, had always just been a footnote in his privileged path through life. The daughter of the woman who had replaced his mom and stole from the pot of gold he had amassed as an only child. You knew he looked at you and despised everything about he saw; your parentage, your background, your lack of original wealth. You weren’t worthy in his eyes. But that didn’t matter, because you regarded him all the same. ---------------------------------- It was Saturday night. The staff had the weekend off and Richard had left for some kind of overseas trip before you had even arrived last Friday.

Once again, Ransom was nowhere to be seen – thank god – so you had the house to yourself. While it was fairly large and isolating, you didn’t mind being alone in the cavernous home. On Tuesday, your stuff had finally arrived from college, so you’d taken up the guest bedroom furthest from Ransom’s.

When you left for college two years ago, your old room had been stripped of any trace of you. It was back to a pristine grayscale guest bedroom with navy accents and overstuffed furniture. Obviously, during all those years you lived in the mansion, you’d just gotten in the way of the Drysdale aesthetic of meaningless overpriced decor and detail.

Presently, you were in the kitchen, microwaving some popcorn for the movie you’d chosen to watch that evening. The popping of the kernels was loud and quick, and soon the smell of melted butter flowed through the room. A beep sounded to alert you that your food was hot and ready, so you opened the microwave door and plucked the now-inflated bag off the turntable. You held it at the corner, careful not to burn yourself, and turned around to grab the large, metal bowl sitting on the island counter.

You jumped when you saw the figure standing in the doorway.

“Whatchya makin, sunshine?”

Startled, you dropped the bowl and it tumbled to the ground, the clattering setting off even more alarms in your head. The popcorn bag had also fallen from your grip, and yellow-tinged kernels were strewn across the floor.

Ransom stood at the entrance of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he examined the scene, taking in the spilled popcorn and silver bowl still comically rolling on the ground, making a loud whooshing noise. Looking up, his wolfish eyes landed on you. He pushed off the doorjamb and stalked forward, monitoring your shocked expression from the other side of the counter. He stilled the spinning bowl with his foot, the room now filled with tense silence.

“Well, aren’t you the fucking chef, sunshine?” He made a show of once again looking at the scattered popcorn, “I don’t remember you being such a klutz.”

Your heart was still beating fast from the surprise of seeing him, but you scrunched up your face and hissed, “I’m not a klutz. You’re the creep sneaking up on unsuspecting girls and ruining their dinner. How can you be so massive and yet so silent?”

He grinned, “I’ll take that as a compliment, sunshine. Maybe I’ll take to cat burglary one of these days. But it was pretty easy to ‘sneak up’-” his fingers made air quotes around the label- “on you when you’re making such a racket in my kitchen.”

Your jaw clenched at his choice of words. He was always laying claim to things like that, making sure you knew you were just a guest; unwanted, at that. He always made it clear that this place was his and not yours. Which didn’t really bother you. You didn’t want his life.

You ignored his attempt at a dig and walked to the long cabinet in the corner of the kitchen that held cleaning supplies and grabbed a broom and dustpan.

Ransom gave you a quizzical look as you swept up the fallen food, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? Cleaning.”

“Just let the help do that.” He actually sounded a bit baffled.

“They’re gone, it’s Saturday,” you stated bluntly as you swept the debris into a small pile.

“So? Leave it until Monday for them to take care of. That’s what they’re fucking paid to do.” His privileged tone dripped with sharp disdain.

You rolled your eyes. He was such a spoiled brat. “That’s how you get ants,” you said, secretly hoping your flippant tone would irk him. Inwardly, you were grateful for the task, though. You could focus on sweeping and not on Ransom’s intimidating form, or the memories it dredged up. “And I’m plenty capable of cleaning up my own messes. Although this was caused by you.”

Once you were certain all the popcorn was in a pile, you bent down, placing the dustpan on the ground and lightly sweeping the ruined food into it.

Ransom had been silent for a while, watching as you worked with a disapproving gaze, but when you bent forward, unknowingly sticking your ass out right at him, he changed his tune, “On second thought, you look pretty good as a maid.”

You scoffed and glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. He hid the glee that spread through him at your annoyance and pointed to a single kernel that sat right in front of his shiny brown shoes.

You stood back up and emptied the debris into the trash can hidden under the counter. “You have opposable thumbs and working limbs, why don’t you get it yourself?”

“You’re the one who said you were perfectly capable of cleaning up your own mess,” he countered.

Heaving a sigh, you trudged up to him. You stared him dead in the eyes before crouching down and snatching up the tiny piece of popcorn.

Your plan was to spring back up and flick it right into his stupidly good-looking face, but that was thwarted when a weighted hand pressed on your shoulder.

You looked up and Ransom’s blue eyes gleamed. “Why don’t you stay down there, sunshine? You look so perfect kneeling before me.”

A rush of heat flooded through you, but you batted his hand away, moving back slightly before standing up, successfully, this time.

“Ha. Ha. Ransom,” you tossed the last piece of popcorn into the trash as you walked over to the sink, “I know that you get some kind of sick amusement making misogynistic comments like that, but I’m not about to let your pompous ass intimidate me. Not again.” You turned your back to him and started washing your hands. The water was scalding, but you welcomed the distraction.

This time you would stand up for yourself. This time he wouldn’t catch you off guard. “So go back to whatever man-child frat party you came from and have fun with people who act just like you – drunk assholes with the mental capacity of 15-year-old boys who think being a dick is a personality tr-”

Two large, thickly veined, hands slammed down on on either side of you. They gripped the edge of the sink tightly, caging you in. You squeaked when you felt a domineering form hovering behind you. One of the powerful hands reached forward and turned off the roaring water of the faucet.

Hot breath prickled against your ear. “Looks like the little virgin’s finally got some balls,” Ransom’s low voice sounded sinister, even with his usual sarcastic bite, “I forgot how infuriating you usually are. Even though you play-act this strong, empowered, bitchy character, I know what you really are beneath all that big talk, and I miss that begging, distraught, wannabe whore.”

You flinched, feeling inside every bit as helpless as he accused you of being. You fought not to let it show, though, “Ransom, remove yourself from my personal space.” Instead of the strong, unbothered tone you were going for, your voice sounded hushed and weak.

His deep chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “Sunshine, what did I just say? Remember how the last time we saw each other, you were whoring it out in my home?” He shoved his hand between your thighs, cupping your mound. “All because this virgin cunt couldn’t last a single second more without being filled full of cock.” The heel of his palm dug into your pulsing core and your body curled forward, shocked by the sudden pressure. “I already told you that I’d give you the honor of losing that innocence to me, so I don’t see why we have to beat around the bush, so to speak.”

You clutched his hand and pried it away from your heat, not sure where you found the strength to do so. You pressed yourself against the sink, trying to leave as little room for another move like that as possible.

Instead of attempting to dive back in, Ransom rested his hand on your plush waist, squeezing tightly, “Still playing hard to get, huh? I know you want my dick inside you, sunshine.”

You shut out the millions of charged electrons shooting through you and blurted out, “Even if I wanted to have sex with you – which I absolutely do not – I don’t need some pity fuck from a two-pump chump like you. You could be the last person on Earth and I’d still rather die a virgin than let your limp little dick anywhere near me.”

Ransom stilled behind you, fully removing himself from your body. For a second you thought that was it, that he’d leave.

How foolish of you.

Strong hands gripped your hips and spun you around. Ransom dug a hand into your hair and pulled the locks tight. You felt the bite as they tugged at your scalp. Just like last time, his eyes suddenly lacked the mischievous glint that always seemed to shine in them. Instead, they were cold, sky-blue orbs. You could see a seething fire beneath his stoic face, only given away by the twitch in his left eye and the clench of his chiseled jaw.

He didn’t do anything though - not yet - he just held you there to cower before him, letting you become more and more fearful of what was spinning around in that twisted mind of his. You looked away but he shook the fist tangled in your hair, your eyes rattled in your skull as you brought them back to focus on him.

He breathed in deeply, “Pity fuck, huh?” He used his grip on you to tilt your head back and forth, examining your frightened features, “That’s what you think I’m doing, sunshine?” You gulped. He shook you again, “Answer me!”

“W-why else would s-someone like you be interested in m-me?” You squeaked out, hating the self-deprecating words, but not knowing how else to combat his advance.

His eyebrows turned up in something you assumed was supposed to convey sympathy. “Oh sunshine, that’s real cute. You know, I thought this shy, self-conscious shit was just an act to turn me off, but you actually don’t see what you do to me?”

He brought his other hand up and stroked your chin, grazing your jaw as he traced some invisible line down your neck. “Besides, when have I ever been known to show pity?” He spat the word out like a curse as his fingernails scraped your sensitive flesh.

His look of pure fascination as he watched his hand’s descent baffled you. You pushed your thighs closer together, unsure as to why his expression sent heat rushing between them. His ghosting fingers came to a stop right over your heart and he splayed his fingers out, palm flat against your sternum. He stared at his hand as it moved up and down with the rhythm of your breaths.

“Sunshine, I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I can’t keep my eyes off of you. And even when you’re not around, you still won’t leave my fucking head. It infuriates me. That this girl that stumbled into my life, this nothing, suddenly flipped a switch in my brain. I mean, I’ve fucked plenty of chicks in my day, even went out with a lucky few, but none of them have done what you do to me.”

His other hand moved to grip your waist, kneading the soft slope. “I’ll be the first one to agree that you’re not the stereotypical type of woman I keep around, but maybe that’s just another reason every time you enter a room I lose sight of all reason.” His fingers bit into your soft flesh as his grip tightened. “I lose my fucking mind, sunshine, and it’s all your fault.”

You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was stare at him helplessly as his hand on your chest curled up to wrap around your throat. His eyes blazed with desire as he squeezed, leaning forward so that his lips brushed yours.

The way he was acting scared you more than him cursing and berating you. That you understood, that you could fight. But this? This spelled more than a one-time thing, more than misplaced desire or hate fucking. There was a possessiveness in Ransom’s eyes that terrified you.

Even more than that, though, his actions had your mind and body in overdrive. No one had ever wanted you like this before, and the fact that it was someone with an icy heart like Ransom, made you feel almost special in some fucked up sort of way.

Everything was wrong. You needed to get out of there. You shook your head and brought a hand up to pull at his wrist. “N-no Ransom, you don’t actually like me. You just like the idea of fucking someone who’s off limits and I’m off limits for a very legitimate reason-”

His hand moved from your throat to your mouth, muffling your protests. “Sunshine, you always make it perfectly clear that we’re ex step-siblings. Besides, it’s not like we were raised up together, it’s really not that big of a deal. But you’re not wrong completely, it does make this all the more enticing - and I bet you feel the same way, too.”

His hand returned to your core, this time diving past your waistband and into your panties. You shrieked, again grasping at it in an attempt to remove the appendage. It was buried in there though, so your attempts were futile and when he ran a finger along your slit you convulsed. Your body wasn’t used to this kind of sensation. It wasn’t used to any attention like this.

His sadistic laugh echoed off the sterile kitchen walls, ringing in your burning ears. When the fingers that had been rubbing through your folds, playing with the embarrassing amount of slick, moved to your clit, you lost touch with reality. The sodden digits working over your coursing bundle of nerves in rough circles was sending shocks through your system.

You cried out at the sparks and Ransom grinned. “That’s right Sunshine,” His fingers plunged into your drenched pussy as his palm ground into your clit. “Only I can make you feel this way.” You quivered against his touch, already feeling the pull of your orgasm. “You think any 20-something college shithead is gonna touch you like I do or make you cum like I’m about to?”

You pressed your eyes closed, trying to drown out his words and focus on the magic happening between your thighs. You tried to imagine it was anyone but Ransom touching you. He grasped the side of your face, turning you to look at him.

He jostled your eyes open again and you gasped at the intensity in his darkened eyes, the pupils overshadowed any of the icy blue they usually held. “Answer me.” His grip was bruising and pulled your focus from his relentless toying underneath.

You gulped, not wanting to say the words, but the need for release beat out your pride in the end, “N-no, Ransom, only you.” The words felt heavy on your tongue but your mind was clouded with electric sparks as he curled his fingers up into your g-spot.

A garbled cry fell from your lips at the new pressure and Ransom swallowed it with his mouth as he lunged forward, arresting your moans with his own as you locked lips. His teeth bit into your lower lip until they broke skin, the slight tang of blood mixed with spit as he dragged it into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his own as he growled at the taste and feel of you.

His fingers followed the motions of his tongue as they both explored all that you had to offer. His hand dropped from your face and moved down, roaming over the expanses of your skin. He pressed it against the soft curve of your belly, and you made a disapproving sound, your hand coming up to pull his away from the parts of you that you didn’t want anyone to know about, nonetheless touch. He growled a warning and batted your hand away.

“Mine,” he grumbled into the harsh kiss and continued to run his large, warm hand over you, over all of you. He took his time to squeeze and caress every part of you that you always hid away as if to force you to acknowledge that the feeling of his heated palm and deft fingers actually felt incredible. It made you feel desired in a way you hadn’t before, a way that made your knees weak.

His long fingers were pumping in and out of your aching pussy, the squelching sound that filled the room made you both ashamed and turned on. Your breath hitched when he focused back on your clit again, his fore and middle fingers dancing around it as you started to shake in his strong embrace. You felt lightheaded as Ransom dragged you to the edge, your feet scrambling for purchase because you didn’t know what was going to happen when you inevitably came. You had never experienced such a crushing, overbearing tension in your abdomen before, the pressure made your body tense like you were a live wire about to spring.

Ransom buried his fingers in your pussy again as his other hand ceased its exploration of your generous curves and came to join it at the apex of your thighs. He settled his fingers on your bundle of nerves and once more began his blissful torment. He worked his hands independently as one pistoned into you over and over at an agonizing speed and perfect angle and the other attacked your clit. His endless teasing was pure torture as he rubbed the pulsing nub, not letting you build on a simple incline but bringing you up and down over and over as he kept switching between determined, heavy pressure and feather-light touch.

His mouth was still devouring yours. It was like he was taking control of your entire being, working your body in a way that only he knew how, removing your autonomy from the equation. He was showing you that he was the only person who could bring this kind of soaring pleasure to you, not even your own hands could do what he was doing. It was as if he was inside your brain and knew just how to light up every one of your nerve endings.

He wrenched his lips away and you let out a lewd cry as he ran his teeth down your exposed neck, nipping and slurping as he went. Your hopes that he wouldn’t leave a visible mark vanished when his teeth bit into your pulse point and he sucked. You had always found hickeys to be vulgar and unnecessary, but the sound and heat made your knees weak.

Your voice was a mix of unintelligible sounds and a tumble of expletives and even Ransom’s name. Every time his name spilled from your lips, he pressed into you even further, which seemed impossible at that point.

He finally stuck with grinding his fingers against your clit fully as he added another thick digit to the two that were already thrusting in and out of your quaking pussy. He’d been keeping you at the crest of your peak for who knows how long. All you knew is you would say anything - do anything - for him to make you cum right now, and that sentiment played across your lips in a garble of wanton pleas.

He must have been able to decipher the mumble of your slurred words because he stilled. You whined, your hips bucking up, but he stilled you with a flat palm to your abdomen. A low laugh brushed across your collarbone as he licked his way back up to your ear. His hot breath sent tingles along your spine as he whispered, “You better remember that promise, Sunshine. Begging for an orgasm like the little cockwhore I always knew you were. My little cockwhore,”

You couldn’t combat his claims, heat flamed across your face at his cutting words. They felt true at that very moment, even though the part of you that detested him screamed at you to deny him. “But, who am I to resist when you beg so nice and pretty for me? Go ahead, I’ll give a fucking slut just what she wants, Sunshine. Give my pussy what she needs.”

With that, his fingers thrusted back into your hole, curling up as his other hand’s fingers practically vibrated against your aching clit.

You screamed as your orgasm overtook you, it blasted through your body in a strike of lightning that shook your bones and boiled your blood. There was nothing else there as the world collapsed around you, you couldn’t even hear the satisfied laughter of Ransom as you drifted through a fucked-out abyss.

Your legs fell out from under you and Ransom pulled you closer, grinding his hard-on into you, groaning into your ear. In the back of your mind, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the muffled, “Thank you, Ransom” that flew from your mouth as his fingers worked you through your peak.

It felt like hours before you finally came down from your high, Ransom’s hand still buried between your thick thighs. He couldn’t remove it if he wanted to, not with how tightly you clenched around it. His free hand came up and brushed away the hair sticking to your sweaty brow, gazing at your still panting form.

He gripped the back of your neck and yanked you into another searing kiss before he bent down to your neck again and bit into the mark he’d already made, sucking even harder to make sure the bruise would last. “Mine,” his low voice grumbled, as he lapped at the mark.

He licked his way up to your ear before he spoke in a clear voice, breaking you from your reverie, “Gotta run, sunshine-” he managed to finally pull his hand from between your still trembling thighs. He wiped his drenched fingers on your shirt, staining it with your essence- “don’t get me wrong, I’d love to stay and continue the fun, but I’ve got a date with a hot piece of ass from my gym named Vanessa.” He spoke the name like it dripped molten gold.

For some reason, your heart sank to your stomach at his words.

He fully removed himself from you, straightening out his tight fitting, thin, sweater and rolling down his sleeves. His eyes raked over the messy, cockdumb state he’d put you in, a self-satisfied smirk played at his lips.

He checked his watch before he continued his cutting speech, “I’m already running late, not that she’ll mind though, it is me, after all.” He palmed his cock, shifting it in his straining pants. “Might have to skip dinner and head right to dessert, if you know what I mean,” he winked at you as he sauntered out of the kitchen.

Before he turned the corner, he paused, glancing back at you with fire in his eyes. “I’ll see you around, sunshine. You’re gonna have to return the favor, after all.”

With that, he exited your vision, the sound of his measured steps echoed off the hallway walls and rang in your head as you sunk down to the floor. Tears ran down your cheeks, unbidden by you, and you let out a shaky cry as you were once again left to wallow in guilt and shame and insatiable desire by Ransom fucking Drysdale.

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dr3c0mix · 4 months

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Bloody Red Roses

Yandere!Evil King x GN!Reader

CW: kidnapping, weirdo behavior, pretty mellow for now

👑 It was known throughout the land that King Alistair of the Obsidian Kingdom was a terrifying and cruel ruler. His heart held no mercy for those who opposed him.

👑 His dark magic was one to be feared, many know better than to ever go against him and his undead soldiers.

👑 Recently, he’s set his sights on your kingdom. He was planning on overthrowing a few lands and expanding his territory, and with your kingdom’s promising resources and location, he saw it as the perfect prize.

👑 But he isn’t a war mongering psychopath who declares war right then and there, no no he’s much more sophisticated than that, he’s going to kidnap the princess instead!

👑 He needed a bride anyway, so for him it’s a win/win!

👑 “Sir! We got her! We got the princess!” The door opening and the rattling of bones got Alistair’s attention. He sent a few of his skeleton soldiers to capture the princess whilst on a carriage ride through the borders of his territory.

👑 There were many guards protecting the area, but their weapons were no match for enemies who couldn’t die, and with a little bit of sleeping potion, carrying the princess away will be easy as pie.

👑 “Excellent~ and you brought her to my chambers like I told you correct?”

👑 They nod and scamper alongside the king to meet the princess

👑 “Oh princess~ are you awake ye- !!” His eyes widen and he cuts himself off. The person unconscious and tied up in his bed was indeed a royal, but the princess they were not.

👑 “What. Is. This?” He growls, the soldier’s bones rattle in fear

👑 “W-well you sai-“ “Does this look like a princess to you?! How am I going to take over their stupid kingdom if don’t have a bride!?” He scowls angrily.

👑 He hears you tossing and turning in your sleep, you let out a soft little squeak as you reposition yourself to be hugging one of his pillows.

👑 “…”

👑 “Uhm…your highness..?”

👑 “Leave. I’m done with your stupidity..I’ll deal with them myself..”

👑 The soldiers waste no time running off to who knows where as Alistair looks at you with cold eyes.

👑 “Hm…”

👑 He takes a seat by the bed, watching you as he figures out what to do with you.

👑 He’s trying to figure out a strategy, but he keeps getting distracted by your form. You looked so small and delicate, maybe he could…no that’s stupid he could never..could he?

👑 His thoughts plague him a awhile longer until he notices you waking up.

👑 Your muscles are weak, your head feels like it’s spinning, and it takes a bit for you to get back to your senses and realize what happened.

👑 You jolt awake, remember of the attack and almost scream at the sight of Alistair, but he was quick to covers your mouth and try to ease your panic. It took a while, but he managed to get you to stop fussing so he could take off your binds.

👑 “Apologies for this little..incident, I was supposed to take your sister..but now that you know my plan for your little kingdom, I have no choice but to keep you here. Perhaps I don’t need a princess to marry after all, I could just use you as ransom..” he chuckles.

👑 He sees the tea in your cup rippling in your shakes hold and scoffs, bringing his hand to hold your wrist to still your trembling “Oh don’t be so scared now, I don’t bite..”

👑 It was just supposed to be a means to make you stop shaking, but your skin…your big pitiful eyes staring up at him..he didn’t want to let go.

👑 So he kept you, for ransom of course, not for anything else..

👑 With you at his disposal, he started preparing negotiations with your kingdom to see what they’ll do to get you back.

👑 But in the mean time, he had to deal with you somehow..

👑 He settled on just letting you wander around the castle (with supervision of course)

👑 But then he starts to wonder what you do everyday, what did you even like to do? If you were staying with him, he might as well talk with you for the time being.

👑 It started off sort of awkward, he spotted you by the garden feeding some birds with two soldiers watching you. He approached and waved at the soldiers to leave them alone together. You thought you were in trouble but to your surprise, he just asked you how you were doing..

👑 “I uhm..heard you like going out here everyday..I figured I’d join you…Don’t take it the wrong way, I just had some..free time..that’s all..”

👑 The whole interaction was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be so casual and calm with someone, especially a royal of another kingdom.

👑 He enjoys the reactions you give him whenever he talks about his role as the dark king of the Obsidian Kingdom. Your nervous but polite smile masks your mortification of him, but it’s adorable to him nonetheless

👑 “What? A scared of the big bad king? How cute.”

👑 Your little talks slowly became frequent, for the king, it even became something he couldn’t help but do. What can he say? He was so used to your presence it seemed wrong to not talk to you at least once..plus he had to check to see if you weren’t planning an escape so..

👑 “Where have you been my little rose? I haven’t seen you all day.”

👑 His interest in your interactions turned to fondness the more he picked up on your cute little quirks. He takes note of the things you find funny or interesting, he brings them up in order to see that adorable little smile of yours, and that giggle, oh god that giggle…

👑 He denies it so much at first, but slowly starts to accept the fact that he wants- no, needs you with him

👑 Soon he started to want your presence even more, offering to eat meals alongside you instead of eating whenever he’s schedule allowed it, he started eating scheduled meals for you <3 we love self care guys

👑 “Of course I’m eating with you tonight. After all we never got to finish our conversation.”

👑 He loves watching you, even when simply eating or any mundane thing, you will more often than not catch him staring at you. You’re just so cute and soft! Definitely not like the snobby and overly stiff men and women he’s seen.

👑 He couldn’t have you trying to escape so what better plan than to keep you by his side 24/7? Then you’ll never be out of his sight!

👑 “What’s so wrong with letting you tag along my dear? I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself with me.”

👑 And what if you try and sneak out from your chambers? Clearly you need to be moved to his chambers, that way he can make sure you’re behaving.

👑 Oh and of course in case you get lost, he made you a cute collar with the royal insignia on it! Isn’t it pretty? He used your favorite colors and everything!

👑 Of course he needs to fulfill his kingly duties. But how can he leave you alone for that long? No worries, you can sit right on his lap! That way you won’t have to stand for a long time and hurt your feet.

👑 And those clothes? So simple and out of style, perhaps you should wear something more fitting to his kingdom’s styles? Like a cute outfit with lace and ruffles! You look so delicate and graceful in it! He can’t help but buy you lots more outfits like that! Tis only fair for a person of your status.

👑 “How about this one? It compliments your form…what do you mean it looks too cutesy? I think it looks perfect for you.”

👑 he’s the type to not do much physical affection, but dear god does he crave both giving and receiving it. Give him a kiss or a caress of his cheek and he struggles to keep his composure and not melt to your touch

👑 Simply put, he might not seem like it (at least he thinks he does) but he can’t live without you. He couldn’t fathom the fact he was planning on trading you for a kingdom, you’re way more valuable than some puny kingdom!

👑 He even considers his original plan, you wouldn’t mind right? Besides, he bets you look absolutely exquisite in a little wedding dress~! Even if you don’t want a dress, an elegant suit would perfect on you~!

👑 “Where do you think you’re going my rose?”

It’s finally here guys ✨✨✨ I know it’s been a while but I’ve been busy with school and genshin. Anyway we got em in the end! Thank you for being so patient guys !! qwq

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #yandere oc #oc yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #king x reader #yandere king #evil king #opossumdoodles

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dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

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|| Party Girl ||

Summary: You secretly go to a party mid exam season and your friend forgets to exclude Ari, your responsible senior boyfriend, from their social media stories. To make things worse, said party is at his rival, Ransom Drysdale's house, who unbeknownst to you, ends up posting a picture of you two together.

Pairing: Daddy/Cg!Ari Levinson | Little!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Ari Levinson. This is a mature story so browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Smut with plot (c'mon it's me), spanking (ass and pussy), punishment, protective!Ari, possessive!Ari, Daddy kink, ddlg vibes, orgasm denial, rough p-in-v, cock warming, slight angst because we are being responsible for once, mean Ari, dacryphilia, humiliation, begging, doggy style, hair pulling, choking, slapping, dumbification, unprotected but reader is on birth control, creampie, degradation, maybe slight fear kink.

Note: First independent Ari fic go boommm~ Also omg I'd forgotten how good ddlg can be lmfao the warnings literally increased a shit ton from the teaser. Lots of love to everyone who was so nice to the teaser. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

"Mmm, Dadduuuuu~" the remnants of the painkillers that you had hurriedly chugged down were still bitter on your tongue as you returned to your boyfriend in the living room. Sliding over the couch from behind, you crawled into Ari's lap and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. The stiffness of his form went unnoticed by you due to your much unfortunate hungover state. Him not turning the tv on to watch some sports should have been the second sign that your fate for the day had been sealed before you had even woken up. The first was him showing up to your apartment unannounced and cooking you breakfast. Not that you knew it yet, it was to prepare you for what was coming. You foolishly took it for granted and thought he had come over to study together as he sometimes did on Sunday mornings.

"Slept well, baby?" You purred into his soft hair to signal agreement as one of your hands reached to snake around his dark brown locks.

"Yes, Dada~" you gave the third sign yourself. It was habit for you to get super clingy whenever you were sick… or hungover. "Followed bedtime rules~" as you smiled and craned your neck to bat your lashes up at him after lying through your teeth with shameless confidence, you sighed to yourself.

God.

You really, really, really loved and appreciated your boyfriend but right now you wished more than anything that he rather have some other plans today.

Because it was 8 in the morning on a Sunday!

Since you had snuck out, you had to pretend that you had gone to sleep at your bedtime; which was 10pm. But the truth was that you had stumbled into this very apartment with your roommates at 4 in the morning drunk off your rocker! All you wanted right now was to crawl into your bed and sleep the whole day away.

"Oh, is that so?" You were too tired to notice the mock in his faux amusement.

"Of course, Daddy!" You tightened your other arm around his broad shoulders in as convincing a way as you could muster. "Good babies follow Daddy's rules, right?" Shame nipped at your cheeks so you kissed his cheek to hide the blush that was spreading across them.

You felt bad but if Ari found out, your butt would feel worse.

Besides, what he did not know could not hurt him.

… Right?

Ari nodded, leaning his heavy body to one side in order to fish his phone out of his pocket before he unlocked it, softly squishing and pulling your ass with his free hand. "Do you have a twin, baby?"

Your eyebrows furrowed and you snorted at the randomness. "What?" When he did not respond and kept swiping away on his phone you added, feeling just a little uneasy now. He only behaved like this when something was wrong. "Of course not, Daddy."

"Then this is just the craziest little thing, isn't it?" He turned to look at you and the intensity in his sky blue eyes made you gulp.

"What is, Daddy?" You had checked your app settings three times to make sure he was excluded so it couldn't be that.

… Right?!

"Come here" the pretentiousness in his enthusiasm was clear as he 'excitedly' pulled you closer. Ari was not like that. He was the chill, laid-back kind of guy and you were the frivolous, fussy and noisy one. "Look at what I saw on Dee's story last night!" As he showed you a screen recording of one of the many stories your friend had posted last night, your blood ran cold. "Doesn't this girl standing between her and Steve look just like you?" You gulped as he pointed at a carefree you having the time of your life doing silly TikTok dances with your friends as your titties bounced in the skimpy outfit that you wore to the party.

Oh, he did not appreciate you wearing those kinds of clothes in public settings.

Especially if he was absent at said settings.

"But of course, it's just a lookalike" Ari nodded sarcastically in a fake reassuring manner, every word laced in mock. "Because… wait, when was this? Oh, yes" he checked the time it had been posted. "This was way past my baby's bedtime who was in bed after studying for her upcoming exam the entire day!" Since it was a screen recording -you could always count on criminology major Ari for precaution-, the next story played and there you stood happily doing another dance with… fuck.

You were dead, done, dusted, deceased.

Or at least, your ass was.

Your urge to kick Dee increased with the passing second.

"And of course, the party was at Drysdale's house" the blood under your face was bubbling. "So there's no way that's my baby because she would never betray me like that, right?" Ransom was Ari's arch nemesis.

The major fellows continuously rivaled each other in grades and their respective sports. While your boyfriend was the football captain, Ransom was that of the basketball team and there was even a rumor that they had initially competed for the title your boyfriend now held all throughout their freshman year. Since Ransom refused to be subordinate to Ari, he had left shortly after losing to him and had joined the team he captained now.

But Ransom had always been so nice to you it didn't feel right being mean to him!

Or yes, perhaps he was a tad bit too nice.

You were naive and Ari was overprotective.

Another story rolled on. Dee had the camera in selfie mode as she pressed her cheeks against Steve's -her boyfriend-, who was nuzzling against her and laughing at you along with her. You were having a chug off with– you wanted to facepalm with all the strength you had.

Fucking hell, you did not even remember meeting Ransom let alone having a beer race with the guy! And now there was footage of the event you had blanked out in your unhappy Daddy's phone!

Why had he even hung out with your group for that long?!

"This girl is gonna get in soooo much trouble!" Steve tipsily pointed at you as you drunkenly cheered and waved in the camera upon being shown, grabbing another bottle from your boyfriend's rival but only sipping at it now. In your defense, you did not remember the Ransom bits because you couldn't care less for the guy and you were probably too drunk by the time he found your group.

"Shhhh, it's a secret, guys…" Dee pretended to whisper into the camera. "Ari doesn't know she's here, we excluded him from our stories!" The football captain was a renowned campus topper so it didn't need any more explanation than that.

How said captain managed to keep up with all of his obligations, was a popular mystery.

"And she's gonna be one sorry little girl when he finds out" Steve spoke like the loyal friend that he was to Ari, both his substitute captain and childhood best friend. His girlfriend laughed and switched to back-camera again to show you. "He's not gonna be happy, you know?" The blonde man was heard speaking to you as though you were a child and you were glaring at him exactly like one.

"I am a big girl!" You scowled as you shot back, cheeks puffed and arms crossed. "And if he's gonna be unhappy then that's just too bad!" Dee had told you that her boyfriend shared the same old fashioned thoughts as your Daddy regarding certain things. "Because I don't CARE! He's not here and I am!" You giggled into the camera as you stumbled closer, your nose colliding with the lens as your whole group laughed with you. Then, as though you hadn't damned yourself enough, you grabbed the camera and looked into it. "Sorry not sorry, Daddy! If you mind so much… come and stop me? Oh, what's that?!" You winced and cringed at the girl in the video -you- as she put her hand behind her ear to 'listen' better. "You can't?! Because you don't even know?! Oh–" the phone was snatched from you with a cackle and the story ended abruptly along with the music and laughter.

How the hell did you not remember any of that?!

Your face was hot in embarrassment.

And what the hell would you even do that for?!

"Huh" Ari snorted as he cocked his head to the side. "Did you hear that, baby? They were talking about me" you looked anywhere but at the smug man, praying for your ass and wellbeing. "But since there's only one me and I only have one baby…" You gulped as you gingerly detached yourself from him and tried to move away only to fail. Daddy had a near death grip on your butt.

His suspicions from yesterday had just been confirmed. Ari could read you like a book and he had noticed something was off about your behavior yesterday. To which you had denied by brushing his questions off and assuring him that everything was fine.

Only…

Your heart was hammering against its cage in panic. Clearing your throat after nervously chuckling a little, you tried to politely twist free from his rough hands. "Y- You're right, Daddy… that's n- not me" now why would you say that?! As Ari raised an amused eyebrow at your sheer audacity, you went to stand.

"Is that so, little girl?" And then you dared to nod, only digging your grave deeper.

"Yeaah… Oh! I think my phone's-" you tried to make a run for it but one heavy arm wrapped around your form to make you stay put.

"Oh, yes" much to your horror, Ari took your phone out from his other pocket now. "Your phone, how could I forget?" Unlocking the screen showing a picture of you two cuddled up on a camping trip, Ari tapped on your Snapchat app. "I am so proud of you for following all your rules and studying hard yesterday, baby" he said as he tapped through your many stories from last night before swiping to story settings to find him crossed out. "I really treasure the trust we have built in this relationship" that made you lower your head, his disappointed voice enough for your throat to tighten. Now he tapped on your Instagram and went to a pending tag request. "And the mutual respect is just off the charts" your eyes stung and bottom lip wobbled when he pressed at said request.

Ransom had tagged you in a selfie he had posted with you, the both of you posing with your drinks. The caption read 'Saturday night shenanigans' and there were comments from his friends about– of fucking course.

No wonder he had clung to your group like a leech after spotting you amongst them last night!

He had used you to one up Ari.

You opened your mouth to speak and raked your tired mind for excuses. But none came. When you slowly looked up at your pissed off boyfriend, you sniffled in defense and gulped down the huge bile that had formed in your throat. His anger was justified. What was he to make of all this?

You would have reacted in a much worse manner had you been in his place.

Hell, you actually had ghosted him for a whole week early on in your relationship once because some cheerleader was getting too handsy with him.

That was before Ari had taught you how to communicate.

Jeez, he knew everything, didn't he?

Why couldn't you just shut up and obey your Daddy without question because he clearly knew best?!

"I… s- so sorry, Daddy…" His face was stern; features hard and eyes a dull disappointed blue instead of the usual intelligent bright coral. You tried to say more but shame strangled you and your bottom lip wobbled again. "Sorry…" Turning around in his arms and placing yourself flat against his lap, you couldn't help but pout. You wanted to say more, you really did. But no words came.

Ransom's stupid post had closed all paths to easy redemption.

He was so dead!

You just knew Daddy was not going to let him get away this time.

"Are you?" The arm that faced your back laid down along its length, his elbow firmly digging between your shoulder blades to nail you in place. "Or are you only saying it because you got caught and are in trouble now?" A hiss left you when he squeezed your ass and caught an old bruise in his grip.

"N- No, Daddy!" You whined. "R- Really do m–" your words were sucked out of your throat in a gasp when Ari gave a particularly hard pull to one of your cheeks, causing your pucker to painfully stretch sideways in the process.

"I am sorry, what was that?" You pouted.

He got so mean during punishments!

Yet, you could feel your special parts bubble up to life. "R- Really do mean that I am s- sorry, Daddy!"

The older only hummed. "Good" before his calloused fingers disconnected with your ass cheek only to come down on it with a heavy smack a few moments after. "You should be." A loud grunt left you as one of your feet kicked up defensively.

"Oh!"

Ari hummed as he drew his hand back and then brought it down again, your cheeks jiggling in the process. "Yes, oh" the sarcasm was making your cheeks burn even hotter. But as his hand worked on your poor little butt that was sure to have started blushing even in its still clothed state -which were some panties that you wore under one of your boyfriend's huge shirts-, you realized that things were yet to get worse.

Much worse.

"Lying" five smacks followed that and you jumped with each one. "Sneaking out" each of your cheeks received a spank before your naturally wet panties -Ari was to fully blame here, his existence alone triggered you- were peeled off with a click of his tongue before six repetitive strikes were administered to your now blushing and much nude butt. "Staying up past curfew!"

"Sorry, Daddy!" You could do nothing but helplessly grip his leg and lay ass up at his mercy.

"Oh, already, little girl?" Ari's calloused palm was relentless as it continued to collide with your fleshy cushions after being pulled back up in air to produce as much force as possible. "But I have barely even started with you yet" you kicked your legs to help and fight the pain of his harsh slaps, your spoiled little butt jiggling feverishly with each hit.

"Oh, nooooo!" You couldn't help but sink your teeth down into the hard muscle of his lap when a particularly hard thump fell directly atop your pucker and made you feel as though it had shattered the rim.

Ari was a really strong guy after all.

"Oh, yes" your boyfriend taunted as he paused his hits to harshly squeeze one of your cheeks before pulling it away from the center and creating space between your legs. "You disobey Daddy, lie to him and break his rules to go to a party that–" your lips formed into an 'O' shape as you arched your back and nearly mewled in response when he cupped his free hand against the curve of your blushing ass, fingers tapping against your moist core. "Ransom fucking Drysdale is hosting," your tingling pussy was now beginning to warm up due to his incessant pats. "And then as if that's not enough, you party with him and fucking post about it–"

"Ouchie, Daddy!" You cried out when he pulled his hand out from between your ass cheeks only to resume the spanking. "Please!" You were sure that your whines and pleads were going to wake the girls up.

… Not that it would be the first time that they would overhear you getting absolutely railed or punished to fuck and back.

"Oh, and let's not forget hiding your silly little social media star adventures from your Daddy!" Your eyes were starting to tear up from how badly your poor ass was throbbing.

"Swear I am sorry, Daddy!" Ari clicked his tongue when you tried to get away, placing a firm hand on the small of your back to keep you trapped and meek. It continued like that for a couple minutes and it was only when you were afraid his next hit would draw blood did he stop.

Only…

"Dirty little girl" Ari grunted as he moved down and onto your soaking pussy now. "Making a mess all over the fuckin' place while she's being punished, tsk" your bottom lip wobbled as you blinked away stars that the heavy slap had caused. "Is your silly little brain too stupid to understand that this is not playtime, huh little girl?" The tenderness in his mocking words made you the wrong kind of warm and before you knew you it, tears were streaming down your face due to how exposed and sensitive you felt.

"... N- No, Daddy" you sniffled and he snorted. "N- Not playtime…" Your mouth quivered.

"Ah, great. The good old academy award performance!" Your features scrunched and you sobbed out loud at that, trembling when Ari slapped your core again. "How could we leave that out!"

"R- Really do mean it, D- Dada!" Your boyfriend tutted before connecting another strike to your vulnerable folds.

"Is that why you're leaking like a dumb little slut?" Your eyes clenched shut as you anticipated yet another spank but were surprised when one of his fingers pressed into your leaking slit instead. "Because you're so sorry?" Your body tensed and fingers tightened around his leg regardless of the suddenness, whilst his invaded and explored your narrow passage of flesh.

"Daddy…" Your head fell limp as you hissed, clenching around his finger as it slowly pumped in and out of you.

"Do you think you deserve to feel good after you humiliated your Daddy like that, little girl?" Your frantic breaths got heavier and more labored as his finger gained momentum. "Making all those asinine big girl speeches and daring your Daddy to participate in your kiddy little games like he has the time?" You could only shake your head as you sucked on your thumb since it had snuck its way into your mouth out of habit, willing your hips closer to your relief.

But Ari knew your greed too well.

And his thick digit was pulled out of you with a loud and devastating plop to which you reacted with a sharp turn of your head, gaping up at him with your teary eyes with shock painfully evident on your face.

The male shook his head with a sigh. "You really thought I was gonna let you off the hook just like that?"

"B- But…"

"But, what?" The edge of his words along with the intimidating raise of an eyebrow killed all your protests in your throat.

"N- Nothing, Da–" You hicupped. "D- Daddy."

"Hm, that's what I thought" Ari nodded sarcastically as he kept his eyes on you but continued to torture your pussy with the lightest of rubs and prods for a short frustrating while. "Get your backpack" you whimpered at his tone which was still as harsh as ever.

He was still very much upset.

"Y- Yes, Daddy" lifting your body off his and onto your feet, you couldn't help but lower your head in shame as you waddled away while biting your lip to hold back your sniffles.

Grabbing the carelessly discarded backpack from a corner of your room, you rubbed your stinging eyes as you walked back to your giant of a man, your shoulders trembling into a shake as you tried to breathe and were forced into a hiccup instead.

Ari didn't take it from you when you held it out to him, as not per usual. "Take out a practice notebook and a pencil" oh, fucking shit. Your eyes welled up with tears again when he refused to acknowledge your puppy dog eyes, instead crossing his huge arms over his broad chest and raising an eyebrow at you, "well?"

You opened your mouth to try and plead your case but his unimpressed expression made you close your mouth momentarily before finally uttering out a quiet, "Y- Yes, Daddy."

You were not graced with a good girl today. Instead, your boyfriend rested his back against the couch and watched you squirm under his dark, intense gaze while carrying out the order. As your hands shakily fiddled with the zippers of the bag, you contemplated whether to whine and pout your way into getting him to melt. But then a bitter flashback of the image Ransom had posted heated your cheeks and you couldn't help but lower your head in complete defeat.

When you had finally fished out the items he had asked for in the most awkward and downright pathetic manner -as you dropped multiple things a couple times before fulfilling the seemingly basic task-, you nervously shifted your weight onto one foot, silently holding the items out to him again.

Usually, he made the makeshift quiz paper himself.

But.

Ari was not in the mood to pamper you in any way. Well, that's what you got for vehemently lying to him all day yesterday when he was being so loving and sweet. He had even offered to come over and go to sleep together all cuddled up. To which you had made some half-assed lame excuse.

Your boyfriend's next orders were to open a new page and jot down a question which basically asked for a summary of all the academic tasks he had planned for you yesterday. You gulped to yourself as you pondered whether to confess or pretend to solve the contents that you didn't even bother to look over let alone study.

In your humble opinion, only geeks studied during the weekends.

But one look at Ari's face and you knew your only option was the latter. Because you could not take disappointing him yet again so soon.

Though deep down you knew it was inevitable after what you had done.

So, off you went pretending to write into the page while trying to hide it from him, desperately raking your mind for any information similar to the keywords. Except you forgot that you could never win against your boyfriend who was now reaching for your elbow. Your whine turned into a grunt when your throbbing butt cheeks were not only lowered to make you sit on his lap so he could look at what you were doing, but the material of his clothes grazed against your sensitive skin. And then his fat tip prodded against your swollen pussy.

You weren't allowed any time to adjust -not that you needed any, courtesy of his cruel punishment- before you were lowered all the way down on his angry red leaking cock. Despite your attempts to be as quiet as possible to keep his annoyance in check as much as could be managed at this point, you cried out at the intrusion.

Your boyfriend was way too big for you not to.

The skin of your impaler was hot and rigid, erect in long and thick cable-like patterns in certain places, the top grazing against your most sensitive part and causing the formation of neon stars in your vision while the even thicker base violated your intimate part like it was meant to be treated that way. Your heartbeat was in your ears.

"Well?" Ari's taunt was nearly breathless. "What are you waiting for?" Right. His beard tickled your arm as his cheek pressed against it to have a better look at your nonexistent work. "Go ahead."

You had gotten so carried away by the much needed penetration, that you had momentarily forgotten about the object of your doom that stared up at your hot face blankly from its position in your hands. Though as you went to begin your little game of pretend for just until you could ride his dick -or just rub against it- into relieving the ache between your legs, your boyfriend's heavy arms wrapped around your waist and restricted any and all movement, his warm chest pressing into your back.

Your mouth fell open when you felt Ari press your stomach inwards against his cock, its ridge pressing up into you with the full intent of now intruding you even deeper. His throaty chuckle spent vibrations up your pussy and spine alike from where he connected with you.

"You seriously didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you, little girl?" Your lips wobbled into a pout as you whined softly, feeling sweat break out on your skin as you struggled to write, then erase, scribble a meaningless half sentence and then rub it clean with the eraser once more.

When you didn't respond and instead took your frustration out on the poor paper that was yet to see something substantial, Ari threw his head back and gave a loud laugh. The action caused formation of another series of cruel reverberations that were still not the required friction but enough to edge you on and you cried out in exasperation, crossing a word out this time because your patience had had it with the eraser though the force you used to do so caused the nib to break.

"Huh, you did think it was gonna be that easy!" You resisted the urge to fling the notebook across the room, instead half turning to whimper at him in a pleading manner.

"P- Please, Daddy…" His blue eyes ignored your glassy ones and instead traveled to the notebook in your hand.

"Hm, let's see what we have here so far…" Unwrapping one arm to hold the bunch of binded papers that was dangling from your hands at this point, Ari hummed. "Nothing, how surprising" you didn't think it possible for him to sound any more disappointed than he had already done but here you were.

"Daddy, I am sorry!" Your frustrated whine was loud enough for him to finally look at you and that with a challenging twinkle in his eye. "I- I mean…" Biting your lip, you couldn't help but lower your head, unable to hold his gaze in these kinds of situations. Ari Levinson was an intimidating man, boyfriend or not. "I- I am sorry that I broke almost all the rules–"

"Almost?" You bit your tongue and tried to reach for his hand but were denied the pleasure.

"Sorry, sir…" Taking a deep breath to calm yourself and try to clear your clouded head, you continued. "I am sorry that I b- broke all my rules yesterday" his silence and lack of movement signaled that your offense required more rectification than this. "I am sorry for not being honest and l- lying about everything that I did wrong and– ah~" a sensual whine forced itself out of your throat when his cock suddenly twitched between your walls.

"Go on" maybe he was liking this. Perhaps this was the way.

It had to be.

You had fucked up enough for a month and redemption was a vital need.

"A- And…" Your heart rate picked up even more. "I am s- sorry for not listening to you about Ra-" your heart jumped when his body tensed and you had to recompose yourself before continuing. "... About R- Ransom. You were r- right and I should have trusted your word because Daddy always means well…" You could make out his growing smirk from your peripheral.

"Oh, is that so?" You whined.

"I am sorry, please! I get it! I will never question your word ever again, I promise!" Because that was what this was about, the extra cruelty anyways. "J- Just please…" Your opening was so sore.

It was crazy how good he was at holding himself back.

You were too impatient for edging.

"Please, what?"

"Please use me, Daddy…" You dared to peak up at him through your lashes. "N- Need you so bad…"

"But big girls don't need Daddies" you could scream out at this point.

"I am not big, Daddy! I promise!" Your voice finally broke and tears came flowing down in frustration, his arm still not allowing your hips any movement. "I… D- Daddy's dumb little baby… dunno anything…" Leaning closer to him, you were glad to finally be allowed his hand when you reached out for it yet again. "N- Need him t- to think for me… and take c- care of me…"

Ari sighed and stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking, hopefully contemplating whether you had suffered enough or not.

Preferably the former.

And then. "Because you can't do it on your own?" You shook your head eagerly. "Because you're such a silly little baby that your useless mind needs Daddy to make all the decisions?" Oh, yes.

"Y- Yes, Daddy. B- Baby is too stupid to know w- what's good for her" your pussy clenched around him at your own words, causing his eyes to darken.

Ari nodded in agreement. "That's right. Nothing without your old man, are you?" Oh, God. You clenched again at his words and hummed in agreement, unable to form any words this time around and ducking your head down to press your lips to his neck submissively. "You need me, don't you, little girl? To make even the simplest of decisions for you" the notebook and pencil were taken from you before being discarded on the couch. "Tell you when you need to eat, sleep, wake up, go potty, study…" He moved effortlessly with you still clamped on his cock, moving you both down against the coffee table, you on your hands and knees as he straddled you from behind. "Who to speak to, who to stay away from, where to go" your eyes fluttered close as you felt him move inside you, humming along his words. "What to do at what time…" With one firm hand on your hip, Ari gathered your hair into the free one. "When to breathe…" He whispered once he had pulled you closer by your hair, holding your throat with his free hand.

You gulped and clenched around him again, eyes rolling up momentarily. "P- Please, Daddy~" you squeaked out helplessly.

"What do you want, baby?" The male still refused to move. "Use your words for Daddy."

"N- Need you, Daddy" you tried to rock yourself against him but the attempt was in vain. "Please, Daddy. Need you so bad!"

"And how do you need me, baby?" You groaned when he curved your body with the grip he had on your hair even more, causing your body to jut outwards and his dick to change position.

"Every way, Daddy!" You were on the verge of breaking out into sobs again. "Please, Daddy! Please, use me!" You reached behind to tap and feel for his arm, your fingers curling around it when you found it. "Any way you want, Daddy! Please, please, use me! Need you so bad…" As you squeezed his wrist you realized that anything would do at this point.

You just needed him to fuck into you regardless of the position.

You would cum wet or dry all the same.

"Any way I want, huh?" His hand let go of your throat to reach for your tits as his chest draped over your sweaty back. You could only nod out with a whine, nether regions in extreme need of relief. "What about… dirty little baby slut getting fucked like the little cockwore that she is for her Daddy?" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he finally moved his hips, causing you to whimper out loud, arms trembling as the upper half of your body threatened to give out against the cold floor. "Being reminded of her little place?" You groaned aloud in agreement, moving your head back until it was pressing into the crook of his neck, back arching when he twisted one of your nipples.

"Yes, please~" you breathlessly whimpered, feeling your knees shake when a loud plop sound resonated against the wooden floorboards behind you as Ari's thrusts gained some speed, your hot slick hanging and thumping out of your weeping pussy and onto the ground.

"How she can't even– shut up" your head lolled to the side when your boyfriend tugged at your scalp with the grip he had on your hair to turn your face sideways. "Shut the fuck up. Not one word. You have had more than enough undeserved speaking privileges for a few weeks. Now Daddy will speak and you will only listen like the dumb little slut that you are" you pursed your lips tightly shut to hold yourself back from accidentally disobeying him. A harsh slap was addressed to your neglected boob. "Is that clear?" You jumped and gasped, the movement causing his tip to pound against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Nod if you understand" you cried out in response to how your nipple was pulled.

Fighting the urge to verbally respond, you hurriedly nodded and bit your lip in anticipation.

"Tsk, would you look at this stupid little baby…" Ari's voice was gravelly as he tutted at you, increasing the pace of his thrusts to his typical slut pounding rhythm now from the previous one which was more of a smooth, velvety intrusion that was sometimes for torture and sometimes to get you to adjust. "Can't even fuckin' breathe without my permission" his hand followed his words and enclosed around the shape of your neck again. "But tries to act all big and independent in front of her silly little friends, tsk" the sound of skin slapping against skin was getting louder by the second, your delayed orgasm quickly rebuilding itself through the pressure and haze Ari's denials had caused your insides.

"S- Sorry, Daddy!" Your knees were literally squeaking against the floorboards at this point and you just knew that you were gonna be very sore everywhere tomorrow.

"I told you to shut up" his rhythm changed to long and hard penalizing jabs as he pulled your collapsing body back up by your hair and sat up on his knees, now fucking up your tight cavern. "Stupid little baby slut" Ari's grip on your throat disappeared for a few seconds to land a slap on your wet cheeks. You hadn't even noticed that you had started crying from the intensity of it all. "Can't even carry out basic tasks" now your other cheek was made to share the same heat as your body bounced all the way to his ridge only to come gliding all the way down and onto his heavy ballsack with loud squelches. Though it was all happening so fast you could barely keep up or comprehend it.

"Stop with that mouth breathing" your nails dug into the skin of the arm he was using to suspend your head upwards, the other set pressing into the palm he wrapped around your throat now. "Disobedient little whores like you don't deserve that" and then he finally squeezed, restricting you of what little way of coping you had been clinging on to deal with this prostate shattering pounding. "Think you deserve to breathe after what you've done?" His words were nearly venomous.

Though this much cruel final loss of autonomy caused the hundreds of knots that had formed in your abdomen to finally explode and your loins boiled over. Your tense body fell limp against his and color drained out of your face, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you clenched around his cock and milked it subconsciously.

Ari was breathless himself as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Did I say you could cum?" He let go of your throat when you began to lose consciousness and forced you back to the present. "Tsk, only you would dare to cum when you weren't even allowed to speak" but then how were you supposed to ask? That was just it.

This was why you did not piss Ari Levinson off.

Now he moved your upper half onto the floor and laid your head against it so your cheek pressed against the cold wooden boards as you numbly blinked out the stars in your vision, feet cold and mind too fucked out to process anything. Your ears were ringing so you could barely make out any of his insults and heart was thumping with such heaviness in quick intervals that you could feel it against the skin of your chest. Although only faintly.

Ari widened your thighs and lifted them off the floor to position himself even better against you. So you were nothing but an actual fuck doll for him to use. But before he began the ultimate battering of your hot and wet walls that had relaxed by now, Ari moved one of his legs out and reached for your head with his foot to both lock you in place as well as to reach you the deepest he could.

A shiver escaped you when you felt his heavy foot place against the side of your head and push your cheek deeper into the ground. Then one of his hands gathered both your arms into it and bundled them on your lower back. Last was his free hand which smacked both your cheeks before he grabbed a handful of one your hips.

And then the pummelling began. Your body slid, slipped, collapsed, nearly gave out and faded into unconsciousness multiple times as Ari fucked you so hard that both the sound and smell of raw flesh colliding filled the entire room until nothing else remained.

It was all so much that your mind gave up trying to comprehend it. The only thing you could decipher now was Daddy; inside, outside, under and above. And though Ari had fucked you probably beyond dumbness at this point, you felt your body -that was working independent of your mind now- curve when your pussy clenched again and you got wetter, hitting another orgasm when your boyfriend's hot seed exploded into your cavern and overflowed the narrow space.

"Look at you, baby." Ari panted as he pounded his orgasm out into you, his animalistic thrusts causing little droplets of both your cum to fly everywhere. "You look so perfect in your slutty little habitat. So completely fucked out under Daddy's foot, barely conscious yet inviting all the same." It took him a few moments to slow down and finally stop.

Though when he finally did, he reached for his phone and turned his camera on to record pulling his monstrous girth out of your battered pussy, snorting at the sight of your pucker winking at him defensively as your pussy dripped of his seed, the abused hole gaping open submissively.

"Tsk, tsk. What a slutty little baby I have here" Ari tutted as he watched you through the camera, squeezing your bruised ass before landing a harsh slap on it and causing both the cheeks to jiggle as well as some of his cum to plop down onto the floor. "Making all this mess on the floor like a dumb little slut who has no control over her body…" Now he moved the lens towards you and zoomed in on your face, pushing your face into frame with his foot. "Do you have any control over your body, baby?" When you just blinked up at the camera, he snorted. "You may use your words now, come on."

"... N- No, Daddy…" You croaked out softly.

"Who does?"

"Y- You do, s- sir…" Ari's smile was finally one of pure satisfaction.

"That's fuckin' right" another smack was addressed to your ass. "And you better fuckin' remember that next time you want to be a sneaky little disobedient lying brat" you could only nod submissively as you stared into the camera, feeling him move away before he pulled you up by your hair and sat you on your knees to face the camera properly.

"I- I will, Daddy. Th- Thank you." You wanted to look down and not at the camera but you did not want to take any chances.

You were so close.

"Hm," Ari caressed your cheek with the back of his hand before softly moving your hair out of your face. "Maybe I should post this on the campus forum, huh? Since you like being a little social media star so much, huh baby?" Your boyfriend cupped the side of your face now and wiped away your drying tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Would you like that? Everyone seeing how good you can be for Daddy?"

There was only one answer to that question. "W- Whatever you think is best, Daddy" your voice was hoarse as you looked up at him from the camera now, moving your face sideways to kiss the hand that was caressing you.

"There's my girl" a condescending pat was given to your cheek before Ari cut the video off and stood to his feet to fix up himself before putting his phone away. "You're coming with me. I've had enough of this silly cat and mouse chase." The edge of his tone made you whimper.

"Yes, Daddy."

Ari hummed before bending down to hold his arms out for you. "Now come here" your bottom lip wobbled as you used whatever little strength you had left and flung yourself in his direction with grabby hands that he easily caught and lifted you like the baby you were with little to no effort.

"I am s- so sorry, Daddy" you wrapped your limbs around him and whimpered into his soft hair gratefully, resting your tired head on his broad shoulder. "Really am."

"I know, baby. You took your punishment well, I am proud of you." His ticklish kiss was tender against your sweaty temple as he slung your now packed bag over his other shoulder and made his way to your room to pack your other things. "Rest that pretty little head now, Daddy's got you." Before he pushed one of your pacis in your mouth: a shiny yellow one shaped like a duck, and tucked your favorite candy doll under the arm you held out for it with a barely audible whine.

The party girl was gone and only the little girl remained, enveloped in her Daddy's loving hold as she drifted off to sleep.

Tag List 🩷; @goodkittyspost @loklaufeysonssgodess @emerald-writes @milknhonies @teen-wolfsydia @identity2212 @i-heart-anne-b00nchoy @hazycottagedreams @lokislady82 (can't tag you lovelies :()

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just-jordie-things · 3 months

Text

national anthem - gojo satoru

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word count: 12.2k warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking (cigarettes + weed) summary: you're a special grade? with no life experience? someone like you sure is lucky gojo satoru wants to take you under his wing and show you how to enjoy life. gojo satoru sure is lucky that someone like you teaches him how to love. more info: set in 2006, friends to lovers, gojo sort of wants to corrupt reader but he's too soft on her, he's an overconfident coward in this idk you figure it out

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[ i’m your national anthem, god you’re so handsome, take me to the hamptons, bugatti, veyron // he loves to romance ‘em reckless abandon, holding me for ransom, upper echelon // he says to be cool but, i don’t know how yet // wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck ]

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Two Special Grade Sorcerers in one place was already a fight for territory and ego- at least to Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru never really felt a push to prove himself, but his white haired counterpart seemed to enjoy a good ol’ fashion pissing competition, so when Satoru felt like being competitive, he often just went along with it. Besides, there was a certain entertainment in watching him lose. Satoru would tell anyone that he didn’t feel threatened around Suguru- or Yuki, when she was around- but there was an undeniable flicker of excitement in his eye when an opportunity came along to show off.

A show off, that was the perfect description for the first impression (y/n) got when she first met the infamous Six Eyes. She wasn’t sure what to expect arriving at Jujutsu Tech on that sunny afternoon in 2006. The mixture of giddiness and unease from picking everything up and starting life over at the ripe age of eighteen had her insides all fluttery, but she was fairly certain her excitement outweighed all else.

The manager who’d picked her up from the train station and drove her to her new home had given her a short introduction to the other sorcerers her age, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the whirlwind of their first official meeting.

“So you’re the new Special Grade meat!”

She’s startled as soon as she approaches the group of three. She’d been all smiles, ready to hold out her hand and introduce herself properly, but it appeared they’d already known all about her.

“Shut up Satoru, you sound like a douchebag,” The dark haired sorcerer beside the loud one shouldered past, reaching out to be the first to shake her hand. (y/n) still has a bewildered look on her face as she reciprocates, confusedly glancing between the two. “Don’t mind him, he’s always like that. I’m Geto, but everyone calls me Suguru anyways, so you can too”

“Alright,” She says through an airy laugh. “Then I’m (y/n)... the Special Grade meat”

Suguru shares the laugh as he drops his hand, and suddenly the white haired one is darting forward, pushing him aside just as he’d done to him moments ago, and grabbing (y/n’s) hand before she could fully lower it. Her eyes are wide, every instinct telling her to take three steps back, but she lets him shake it at a wild pace.

The cursed energy that comes off of him in waves hits her like a truck, solid, undeniable, strength. Reason tells her that he could end her life with his handshake alone. The goofy, shit eating grin on his face tells her otherwise.

“Gojo Satoru!” He introduces, still shaking her hand. “But you already knew that, right?”

Wordlessly, she shakes her head at him, curiosity striking her the longer she took him in. A show off for sure, with the volume of his voice despite being right in front of her, with the performance in his ongoing handshake, with that stupid smile he hadn’t wiped off his face yet, with all that cursed energy- Gojo Satoru was a sight to behold and he knew it, too.

Back home it would’ve ticked her off, but for some reason, there’s a compulsion to her amusement in him. Slowly, her bewildered expression morphs into one of pleasant surprise.

“Can’t say I had the slightest idea,” She replies, and that seems to do the trick to get his smile to falter, even momentarily. Technically, she knew of him, only because of the manager’s due diligence in giving her the names of her new colleagues, but she wasn’t about to treat him to that information. “But I do now,” Her smile brightens, “You’re the guy with the white hair”

He scoffs at first, not out of disgust or annoyance, but pure surprise at the genuine response. The two behind him, Suguru, and the girl she hadn’t met quite yet, Ieiri Shoko, were nearly doubled over in laughter. Loud cackles that echoed across the courtyard they stood in. (y/n) merely held her polite smile as she waited for Gojo Satoru’s full reaction.

His shit eating grin softened into a more authentic smile, amusement casted over his features as he gazed down at her through his lenses. He didn’t need his Six Eyes to tell him she was strong, her own cursed energy seemed to buzz and crackle right off of her like electricity. As if she’d been gathering up static for so long and it was dying to leap right out of her. It would be overwhelming, if he wasn’t the sorcerer he was.

“Always noticed for my looks first,” He sighs dramatically, and (y/n) raises a brow at him, slightly amused, slightly intrigued. “But I guess we’ll have that in common, huh, Special Grade?”

Before she’s given any real time to react, or even process what he’s said, he’s interrupted.

“Alright, that’s enough of you, you’re making us all look bad now,”

The third sorcerer with the lab coat and an unlit cigarette in her hands is the next to leap forward, grabbing Gojo Satoru by the elbow and forcibly yanking until he gives in and drags his feet back to Suguru. (y/n) watches as he mutters under his breath and makes wild hand gestures to Suguru- who seems to roll his eyes and remain otherwise unresponsive.

“You won’t get used to him, so get used to knowing that now,” The girl says, capturing (y/n’s) attention. “I’m Shoko, I’ll be your best friend here, alright? Don’t let him get too comfortable”

(y/n) giggles, introducing herself yet again with a shy fit of laughter.

“Seems like he gets comfortable pretty quick,” She muses, casting a glance over to where Suguru was trying to drag his friend away. He didn’t seem to be winning that fight, and it wasn’t long before Gojo was going boneless against him. “So, small class size, huh?”

“Yeah, well, not a lot of jujutsu sorcerers out there,” Shoko shrugs. “And… we had a few transfers to Kyoto. Which were totally not due to that idiot” She adds the second part under her breath, but when (y/n) laughs, she does too.

“Well, I’ll try not to transfer, then”

Shoko brightens, just a little bit, but enough to be noticed.

(y/n’s) sure she’ll stay true to her word. Besides, it had seemed like her time at Jujustu Tech would prove to be interesting… maybe even fun.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The smell of tobacco wasn’t pleasant, but she tries to put up with it for the sake of Suguru and Shoko. It appeared that the most exciting part of their night was sharing a smoke by Shoko’s window, as they’d visibly relaxed once they’d sparked up.

It didn't matter that (y/n) didn’t voice her discomfort, because Gojo Satoru could see it written all over her. The way her eyes widened when Shoko had pulled out the pack, the way her nose crinkled when Suguru lit the first cig, and even now, how she can’t stop anxiously glancing over to the two of them as they smoked.

“You’re not a smoker, huh?”

She’d been sitting against the wall, a mostly forgotten magazine in her lap when Gojo had approached her, crouching down to her level to properly gain her attention.

“Huh?” She’s lost at first, but it only takes a short nod of his head towards the window for her mind to catch up. “Oh, um, I guess I’ve never really smoked before, but, no, I’m not a smoker”

It’s unexplainable, the way she stammers over her explanation like it’s a lie. Because it’s the complete truth. She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life, and she’d never been around anyone who did. The smell was only familiar because of how often it wafted amongst the streets, but it was always unpleasant. Trying it for herself had never really crossed her mind.

“You’ve never tried it?” Gojo tilts his head curiously, and for a moment she thinks he resembles a cat, but before she could tell him the connection, he’s standing up again and striding over to the window.

She can only watch as he swipes the pack of cigarettes from between the two, scowling when he pops open the box.

“Did you buy this yesterday?” He scoffs, plucking out one of the sticks before tossing it back at Suguru, who catches it with ease, but frowns back at the white haired sorcerer. “Jeez, addicts much?”

“Relax, Satoru” Suguru rolls his eyes just as Gojo snatches the lighter off the windowsill as well. It earns him another glare, but neither Suguru or Shoko comment on it, instead returning to whatever conversation they’d been having before Gojo had so rudely interrupted them.

It’s not until he’s returning to her spot on the floor and taking a seat beside her that she realizes why he’s done this.

“Here ya are,” He grins, holding the items out to her in both hands. (y/n’s) eyes wander between the two, the cancer stick in his left hand, the hot pink lighter in his right, before looking up at him and shaking her head. “What, you don’t wanna try it?”

“I just… I mean…” She struggles to give him a proper reason. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, because she couldn’t care less what other people chose to do, but she wasn’t about to lie to him and say she was ecstatic to get a taste of the thing she knows is bad for her. “I don’t think I’d like it…”

“Well, that’s alright,” Gojo chuckles as he shrugs his shoulders. “I hate it. It’s nasty,”

He goes so far as to stick his tongue out towards the window, where Shoko had clearly overheard his less-than-quiet comment. She returns the favor, but Gojo’s already turned back to (y/n).

“It reeks. And it burns a bit. And honestly? I’d rather spend the money on mochi,” He tells her honestly, and it earns him a giggle, so he smiles a little wider. “But you deserve to at least try it, right?” He asks, wiggling the lighter at her. “Just to say you did it?”

“I’m not really wired that way,” She admits, her laughter turning nervous, but nonetheless, she finds herself plucking the lighter from his fingers. “Why try something I know I’ll hate?” She asks, and generally, it’s a rhetorical question, but Gojo’s answer does have her curious.

“Because,” He shrugs again. “Trying new things is the fun part,” He suggests, before adding, “And just because you can”

Her eyes drift down to the pink lighter in her hand. She rolls it over between her fingers a few times, fiddling with it as the idea settles in her mind. She gets lost enough in thought that she doesn’t even realize how fluidly she’s twirling the small object between her fingers like it was a trick of misdirection, but Gojo finds amusement in how easily and quickly she’s able to maneuver it about the back of her knuckles.

“I can’t say I have an argument for that,” She tells him finally, turning to him with a small smile, and her hand outstretched. “But when I hate it, you can’t be mad”

He doesn’t place the cigarette in her palm like she’s expecting, instead raising it towards her lips, flicking it slightly to prompt her to open her mouth.

“Don’t bite down too hard, you’ll ruin it,” He instructs. She blinks at him in surprise, but follows along anyways and parts his lips so he could set it between them. She keeps her hold on it as light as possible. “And the taste of tobacco is awful,” He adds in a quieter voice.

She tries not to think about how close he sits to her, or how his fingers brush over her bottom lip and then her chin as he places the cigarette between her lips, but the harder she tries not to think about it, the more he thinks about it.

“Want me to light it for you?” He asks, and now he’s the one to hold his palm out to her.

Too nervous to speak with the cig in her mouth, she gives him a small nod, and places the lighter back in his hand. He grins when her fingers drag over his before she pulls her hand away.

“Alright, don’t overthink it,” He says, leaning forward a little closer with the lighter in hand. “I’ll light it, and all you gotta do is breathe in. Not too harsh, just a little inhale, got it?”

She shrugs and nods, certain she could understand the complexities of smoking a cigarette, but she had a feeling that Gojo Satoru liked knowing what to do, and showing her what to do, so she let him. It couldn’t hurt, right? If she fed his ego just a little bit?

With a flick of his thumb a small flame erupts, and soon the end of the cigarette is burning. Just as he said, she takes in a short breath, just enough to feel the smoke touch her lungs.

Her eyes meet his when he pulls the lighter away, but he stays sitting closely in front of her. Even through the dark lenses he always kept perched on his nose she could tell that he was eager to watch her reaction.

She rips the stick from her mouth and coughs, and even once all the smoke is expelled, she sticks her tongue out with the desire to rid her mouth of the terrible flavor.

Gojo chuckles quietly, taking the cigarette from between her fingers as he stands up for a moment. He’s sitting again just a second later, passing her a bottle of water that she takes and chugs down greedily. He’s still laughing when he passes the cigarette to the window dwellers.

“So you were right, huh?” He asks her after she’s got half the water down.

She nods back at him, taking a few more gulps to soothe the ache in her chest from her own coughing.

“But at least you tried it?”

Finally pulling the bottle away, she turns to face him again. Her brows are pinched together with annoyance, but there’s a flicker of a smile on her lips that Satoru can’t ignore. It makes his heart beat at a disastrously wild pace. It makes him grin.

“Oh, I’ll be telling everyone you peer pressured me,” She tells him assuredly, to which he scoffs, but before he could argue, she continues. “But… at least I tried it”

The momentary defensive stature he’d taken relaxes just as quickly, and he even laughs a bit.

“Atta girl, Special Grade,” He teases. “That’s the spirit”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she picks up her magazine and settles back against the wall in a comfortable position. Gojo doesn’t have much interest in fashion, but he sits beside her and follows along as she flips through it anyways.

She supposes it’s because he has no interest in smoking with the others, that this was the better option. He supposes it’s just because her shampoo smelled so light and fruity that he wouldn’t mind lingering around just a bit longer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[gojo s.] are you up?? 1:46 a.m.

[y/n] it’s almost 2. 1:47 a.m.

[gojo s.] fast response! so ur wide awake! :D 1:47 a.m.

[gojo s.] put on something warm and come to the window 1:48 a.m.

Gawking at her phone, (y/n’s) sure this is just some kind of stupid joke. There was no way if she peeked out her window now that Gojo Satoru would be standing out there. This late at night? On a Tuesday? They had training tomorrow bright and early- and wasn’t there a curfew?

She’s not sure what comes over her when she actually shuffles out of her warm covers and tiptoes over to the window. Peeking through the curtain just to be sure wouldn’t hurt, right?

Sure enough, when she pulls the curtain aside just enough to look outside, Gojo Satoru is standing out there. He must’ve been expecting her to check, because he’s looking straight at her, grinning from ear to ear before he waves.

(y/n) shuts the curtain and snatches her phone off the bed. Just as she begins to furiously type, she’s getting an incoming call. With a huff, she answers it and brings the phone to her ear.

“Gojo Satoru, what the hell are you doing outside my-”

“I knew you’d be down!” He’s shouting before she could finish her scolding, and (y/n) winces as she tilts the speaker of her phone away from her ear to relieve the ringing he’d caused. “Get dressed and hop on out!”

“Hop on out-? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you wanna go do something fun?”

“Right now?” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Gojo, it’s the middle of the night, I’ve been trying to sleep”

“I can’t sleep either,” He replies, completely missing the point, but it’s only then that she starts to hear him out. “I need a midnight snack,” He adds, this time his voice filled with it’s usual syrupy level of glee. “I’m sure it’d help you, too!”

It’s a ridiculous idea. She had training in about five hours from now, and so far tonight she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Gojo Satoru might’ve been all powerful, but that didn’t mean he had power over her, he couldn’t just make her go because he wanted a snack and company to go along with it. It would be incredibly easy to tell him no and hang up the phone, and it would keep her out of trouble, too. A double win.

Yet, she’s at her dresser and pulling off her pajamas before she’s even given him a verbal response.

“I hear movement, are you getting dressed?” He asked her, full of hope and excitement.

“Yes,” She huffs as she gets into her uniform slacks. They were the only pants she owned that weren’t pajamas- and there was no way she was going out in the middle of the night with Gojo Satoru in hello kitty pajamas.

After throwing her jacket over her tee shirt and buttoning it up enough, she crept back over to her window, pulling open the curtains properly, her phone still in her hand.

“Oh good-!”

Before he could finish whatever he was saying, she snaps her phone shut and slides it into her back pocket. She needed both hands to slide the window open, at least if she wanted to do it carefully enough that it didn’t creak and squeak when she did so.

Even from a story below, she can tell that Gojo is pouting at his own phone before he puts it away. He seems to get over it once she’s got her window open and she’s swinging a leg out, though.

“Come on down, Juliet, I’ll catch you!” He hollers, louder than he should have.

(y/n) swings her other leg out, sitting on the window sill almost completely leaning out of the building.

“Move out of the way, Gojo” She hisses down at him, but he only extends his arms, waving his fingers at her to prompt her to come down already.

He’d been pacing around out here for the last forty-five minutes debating on texting her, so he was antsy to finally get going.

Giving up, (y/n) pushed off the window sill, and landed on her feet with ease and perfect balance seconds later. She certainly didn’t need him to catch her, but he’s right in front of her anyways, hands settling on her shoulders as if she wasn’t standing before him in perfect condition.

“Good?” He asks, and he’s still grinning ear to ear, but it’s a little different.

She’s not sure how she didn’t notice before, but he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. She could see the crinkles at the corners of his bright blue eyes when he smiled. For a half a second, she could’ve gotten lost in the cerulean waves swirling in his irises. His eyes were bright even in the dark, they practically gave the illusion of glowing.

“Yeah- yeah,” She chokes on her answer, and quickly averts her gaze before he could tease her for staring at him so blatantly. “Let’s just get going, I don’t want to get caught”

“I’d never get us caught,” Gojo scoffs, apparently offended that she could even think such a thing. “Besides, you’ve got a clean track record, you’d probably get off easy anyways”

She rolls her eyes at him as they start their trek off campus, but she can’t help the small smile of amusement on her face. Gojo wasn’t wrong, she did have a squeaky clean record, which she’d proudly maintained since transferring here, but now…

It wasn’t that she was aiming to rebel, she didn’t need to do anything crazy, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t live a little… right? And what was one trip to a twenty-four hour convenience store in the grand scheme of things?

“Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxious?” She asks, but her voice betrays her with soft fondness, and it’s obvious that Gojo notices with the way he looks over at her with the largest, stupidest grin on his face.

“Never with a straight face,” He replies, only to laugh when he catches her smiling at him as soon as he looks at her. She wants to roll her eyes again, but she doesn’t. She just laughs with him and doesn’t argue. “You can admit you like my company, I won’t tell anyone,” He adds, only partially teasing. “”Promise”

“You better keep that promise,” (y/n) mutters back. “For whatever her odd reason, Shoko thinks I’m cool, and I’d like to keep that status”

“That’s because you perform your twisted little cursed technique on her every time she asks,” Gojo says. “Shoko’s got an obsession with the occult, and you are certainly all things occult”

The corner of her lips tilt into a smirk. She wouldn’t necessarily agree, but he wasn’t wrong about her cursed technique. With the ability to access anyone’s thread of fate- that little string hidden in their soul that keeps them alive as long as it’s intact- her cursed technique was a bit more involved than the other Special Grades’ she’d met thus far.

It was gruesome when executed on an assignment, Gojo had seen it first hand only once. With a plunge of her hand into a curse’s body she’d retrieve the thread, and rip it apart with both fists. The curse was exorcized immediately and they called it a day sooner than expected.

Shoko, however, enjoyed seeing it the way anyone liked a party trick. She’d clasp her hands together and beg for (y/n) to open up her soul for her. All of her hours spent in the morgue and the lab might’ve been warping her curiosity, but she was always delighted when cursed energy would encase (y/n’s) hand and she’d reach right into her body as if she phased right through the skin and bones, before retrieving that solid black thread.

“Are you saying that I’m not cool?” (y/n) asks Gojo suddenly, and she’s only messing with him, but he backtracks instantly.

“I never said that!” He shouts, his voice echoing over the empty path they walked into town. “You’re easily the coolest person I’ve ever met, (y/l/n) (y/n). You put the special in Special Grade for sure!”

That has her rolling her eyes again, even though she’s laughing at the stupid line.

“There are more interesting qualities about you than a cursed technique, that’s all,”

The sudden genuine comment has her laughter fading and a look of quiet surprise overtaking her features when she looks back at him. He’s already staring at her, with that stupid grin and his prying eyes that seemed a little softer now. He had these moments often, where in the midst of his teasing and nonsense, he’d say something so deeply real, and she knew it, that it would practically knock the wind out of her. Like right now, where all she can do is stare at him and wait for him to say something else.

“Like, yeah, I have the Six Eyes and I’m mastering Infinity and sure, I suppose I am the strongest being on this earth, maybe ever,” He starts to ramble, and (y/n) can practically feel the idiot comment making it’s way out. “But I’m more than that. I’m also… really handsome,”

She snorts, before a short burst of giggles follows and she shakes her head. Just as expected, Gojo Satoru will always bury the real feelings under the perfectly tailored facade.

“What? It’s true!” He barks in offense when she laughs. “I’m ridiculously handsome- it’s almost too much hotness for one man to carry alone!”

“Uh-huh”

“So you agree? I’m ridiculously handsome?” He grins like he actually caught her in something, and she laughs again.

“I didn’t say that,” But she didn’t exactly deny it either, did she? “But more importantly, you’re ridiculously rich, and you’re buying me mochi, too”

And just like him, she’ll bury the budding sparks of feelings she doesn’t want to admit she has in order to preserve something more long lasting. Friendship. She’d never had friends like this before, people who understood her so deeply, people who took an interest in her even when their interests didn’t align. Gojo Satoru especially took an interest, and she had a feeling he enjoyed making her push her limits, because she enjoyed letting him do it.

“Pfft, fine,” Satoru mutters in mock annoyance. “Was jus’ gonna buy it anyways”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After that, Gojo Satoru has a knack for getting (y/n) to sneak out of her dorm past curfew. He wasn’t always dragging her off campus, oftentimes they’d just sit on the roof, or wander the courtyards, but there was the occasional midnight snack run that he’d insist on taking her on. One time he insisted on showing her how he’d refined his technique, so she sat around for a good two hours while he just showed off. This wasn’t necessarily out of character for him, so she sat and gave him her attention even though her time would’ve been much better spent sleeping.

Unfortunately, and unknown to him, the feelings that she was developing for him had started to accelerate. It seemed that with every night he came to her window to pester her, her heart simply couldn’t feel irritation towards him. Not that he couldn’t get under skin, it’s just that he managed to settle in there. To the point where when she was away from him, she found herself counting down the time until she’d get to be near him again.

It was almost pathetic, when she really thought about it. Missing the boisterous presence of Gojo Satoru was laughable. At first she buried the idea, but she wasn’t one to live a life of denial, and no sooner than he could next drag her out in the middle of the night did she accept that she was actually falling for the Six Eyes user. Their friends would poke fun at her if they knew- which they did, but this wasn’t due to her actually telling them.

But it was unable to be helped. He always found a way to make her heart skip a beat before it picks up in pace.

“I think Nanami is a worthy sorcerer, I don’t have any problem with his company” She shrugs with her words, before leaning back on her elbows.

The tiles of the roof weren’t the most comfortable to sit on, but they often found themselves lounging around there anyways. Maybe it was because it was the perfect place to view the stars, or maybe conversation just seemed to come so much easier up there.

“It’s nothing to do with that,” Satoru mutters, a bitterness to his words that she didn’t often hear from him. He was always overbearingly sweet or chipper with his speech. Maybe it was the roof that brought on a sudden change in tone, or maybe it was because they were something he couldn’t hold back. “You’re more than capable of taking that assignment alone. You’re Special Grade. You don’t need some first year- or anyone- to partner up with you,”

Just as she’s about to open her mouth to come to Nanami Kento’s defense, she seals her lips tight. It wasn’t about Nanami’s ability at all, she realized, as Gojo set his gaze firmly on the horizon. It was about hers.

“The higher ups never want to admit when someone is stronger than them, probably ‘cause they’re scared we’ll overthrow them, or something,” He mumbles the last part, but (y/n) has a feeling there’s more feelings brewing beneath the surface of his bitterness. “They want to morph into this strong… thing… but then as soon as you actually achieve their ridiculous expectations they’ll spend the rest of your life doing everything they can to remind you that you’re not…” He trails off for a moment, and even though he’s refusing to look at her, she can see emotion flickering in the corner of his eye. He lets out a sigh before finishing his thought, “... good enough”

(y/n’s) quiet as she lets it sink in. She doesn’t want to speak too soon and lead him to assume she’d brushed off all he said, but before she could accurately voice her thoughts, he turns to her and releases an airy laugh.

His lips are curved into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and (y/n) can’t help but frown before he even says anything.

“I don’t think that came out right-”

“No, it did,” She interrupts him gently. She gives him a small nod of her head, understanding perfectly what he was saying. It was a warning, but it was also a compliment to her abilities, and she wanted him to know that she appreciated it in it’s entirety. Surprisingly, Satoru shuts his mouth. “If taking on partnered assignments is what gets me through the rest of my time here, I’ll do it,” She explains, and she watches as his forced smile begins to crumple with disappointment. “Besides, it’s good for Nanami to get the experience too, yeah?” She muses, but Satoru’s expression doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. “I have to fall somewhere in between being a good sorcerer and being a good upperclassman, too”

“You’re already doing that,” He points out, almost rudely, but his adamance makes her heart stutter. “You’re a Special Grade, and you already train and tutor the others, what more could possibly be asked of you?”

His upset is evident in his features, but the creases of his frown and pinched brows only deepen when (y/n) lets out a soft laugh. It’s quiet, but genuine nonetheless. She couldn’t help but find comfort and amusement in his determination.

“Sorry,” She murmurs when she realizes her laughter only fueled his irritation. “I’m just amazed that Gojo Satoru is so worried about my reputation”

“I’m not- (y/n), it’s about more than- ugh,” He huffs after he stumbles too much and loses sight of what he was really trying to say. This time, (y/n) stifles her laughter behind sealed lips, but the slight movement in her shoulders still gives her away. Satoru turns away again, his face growing warm as he finally mumbles in defeat, “I just don’t want them taking advantage of you, too”

(y/n’s) smiling at him, although he can only sort of tell with his peripheral vision. She leans forward and tilts her head, trying to get him to turn towards her again, but he refuses. He can’t have her seeing the creeping blush on his face, after all.

“Thank you, Satoru” She tells him, and it’s the first time she’s called him by his forename alone- she tended to call him Gojo Satoru just to spite him- but hearing it now, spoken in such a small but genuine voice, it has him giving in and looking over at her so quickly it’s almost embarrassing to give her such a noticeable reaction. His eyes are wide and his mouth is snapped shut, worried it’d go completely dry if he left it open.

Gojo Satoru is fairly certain he’s never experienced what falling in love felt like, but he’d never tried to seek it out, either. He was content with his life, he felt as though he checked all the right boxes, with being born the strongest sorcerer, having the greatest friends in the world, he’d never really considered what having more would look like.

Right now, it looked like (y/e/c) eyes and a shy smile.

As suspected, his mouth goes dry when he opens it.

“You’re… welcome” He answers slowly, and it’s a bit awkward but (y/n) doesn’t point it out. She simply leans back on her arms again and turns her attention back towards the stars.

In a few minutes she’d strike up conversation again and they’d spend the rest of their night chatting aimlessly about nothing special in particular, but neither one wanted to be the first to alert the other of the time. So they’d sit there until the sunrise would peek over the horizon, and slowly, but eventually, they’d sneak back into the building with tired goodbyes and plans to meet up with their friends during lunch like they always did.

Everything was exactly as it always was. But it was undeniably different.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru scoffs when Shoko tells him about a party she’d been invited to by a non-sorcerer she and (y/n) ran into while in town. A non-sorcerer party sounds like the perfect way to waste an evening. Although he won’t admit he feels relief that neither one of them actually planned on going, and he knows that (y/n) already tucked herself in her room for the night.

She’s probably studying, he thinks to himself fondly. It was a friday night, sure, she should be doing something fun with her evening, but he’d much rather have her here than out doing who knows what at some lame party.

“He was cute too, can’t believe she turned him down,”

That little comment had him snapping back into conversation- he might’ve tuned Shoko out a bit when she started going on about the cashier giving her a hard time over her less-than-authentic ID for her smokes- but now all of his senses were tuned back into what she was saying.

Shoko rolls her eyes when his head swivels at super human speed. She’s not offended that he’d so clearly been ignoring her, not when it’s so amusing that she brought him back to earth the only way she knew how- by praying on his jealousy and pride. Oldest trick in the book, she smirked to herself. She and Suguru had mastered this trick ages ago.

“Wonder why she’d do such a thing” She mutters in mock curiosity, before pulling out her new pack of cigarettes and sticking one between her lips. Satoru narrows his eyes at her, picking up on the lack of subtlety. It wasn’t often that he did so.

“You’re blaming me for (y/n) not being interested in some random non-sorcerer?” He laughs humorlessly at the notion, and Shoko mirrors it with a laugh of absolute humor.

“She’s your most favorite Special Grade, isn’t she?” She muses, plucking the cigarette from her lips to exhale the smoke in her lungs before she presses him again. “If it weren’t for you, she’d be out living her life for once”

“You’re acting like I keep her from doing anything-”

“I’m not,” Shoko shrugs, her expression turning bored. “I was actually trying to insinuate that she’d rather hang around here getting in trouble with you than doing, I don’t know, normal things. Like parties. And… other things that happen at parties” She finishes with a smirk before she sticks the cigarette back in her mouth to puff some more.

Satoru flusters, not having a quick witted comment to come back at her with. His silence is just as damning, however, and Shoko begins to laugh again, plumes of smoke puffing out as she does so.

“She’s probably never even been to a party,” She says, as if talking to herself, but Satoru’s well aware that she’s just luring him into her trap.

Now, he’s not completely sure what that trap is, some sort of admission of guilt he assumes, but for what?

“She’d probably love the scene. Dancing, mingling. Non-sorcerers would love her for sure. She could do her whole ‘there is no god, only I control your fate’ thing, they’d eat that up”

“She said that one time-”

“Yeah, and it was badass,” Shoko cuts him off. “I got chills and I wasn’t even there,” She pulls up the sleeve of her jacket then, chuckling when she finds the little hairs on her arms standing up. “See? Chills”

Satoru swats her arm out of his face when she shoves it in front of him.

“What are you getting at? Are you asking me to take her? I don’t want to go to a party with a bunch of strangers whose collective idea of a good time is alcohol poisoning and shitty music”

“Harsh, Satoru, who’s got your panties in a bunch?”

He could teleport away right now, before Suguru even completely approaches the two of them, but isn’t it all the more damning if he turns and runs? He doesn’t make a decision before Suguru has joined them at their usual table in the courtyard. Shoko’s passing him a cigarette without any words exchanged.

“Guess” She speaks in monotone as she hands him her lighter.

“I’m leaving” Satoru finally decides, stuffing his hands in his pockets, surely about to stomp away. The other two snicker between one another.

“Awe c’mon, don’t be like that, Satoru” Suguru calls, but he doesn’t try to chase down his sulking friend.

“When ya get to (y/n’s) can you remind her she still has my spare jacket?” Shoko hollers, which is followed by the sound of her and Suguru bursting into a fit of laughter.

Satoru warps with a huff before they could continue obnoxiously yelling at his back. He barely wipes the scowl off his face before he’s knocking on the door he reappears at.

“It’s open!” Is called from inside, but he’s still cautious when he slides it open.

(y/n’s) at her desk, one earbud in her ear and one hanging in front of her. She’s surrounded by piles of books and papers, not to mention the highlighter in her hand and the pen tucked above her ear. She’d clearly been busy with her studies, but when she looks up to see who her visitor was, she picks up her iPod Shuffle and hits pause before she plucks the other bud out of her ear.

“What a surprise,” She greets him with a warm smile. “To see you actually using the door, that is,”

That cracks a smile on his unusually sour face, and (y/n) leans back in her chair, already forgetting the work in front of her as she takes him in. Her arms cross over her chest as her brow furrows just a little bit.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something has to be wrong for me to stop by?” He asks, leaning back into the doorway. “Can’t I just be a good friend and come say hi?”

She raises a brow at him.

“Hi” She says with a smile too sweet to be real, or at least he thinks.

Satoru rolls his eyes, but his own smile is more genuine than he’d like to admit.

“Hi,” He replies. (y/n) smiles a little wider. “Is this really your plan for the night?” He asks, wagging his finger in a circular motion at the pile of work she had before her.

“It was,” She claims. “But I have this odd feeling… like you’re about to drag me off…?” She can barely contain her delight, even as she presses her finger against her pursed lips in mock curiosity.

“Take you away from your studies? Who do you think I am, Special Grade? A bad influence?”

“And apparently a mind reader, too” She quips.

“Well… do you want me to drag you out of here or not?”

It’s only a dizzy spell from Satoru’s warping later that they find themselves in the middle of a neighborhood, in front of a house she doesn’t recognize. Needless to say, it was not a usual spot for them.

“A house party?” (y/n) furrows her brows at him, before glancing down at herself. She’d ditched her uniform jacket at least, but she was still in black slacks and her white tee shirt. “You couldn’t have told me to wear something different?”

Satoru frowns, before mirroring her actions. In the same pants and a black tee shirt himself, he takes offense to her insinuation.

“You don’t think I make this look good?” He pouts.

“I think we look like we’re in costumes- what are we doing here, anyways?” She asks.

“Shoko told me about it,” He says, before taking a step towards the house. “C’mon let’s go in”

Begrudgingly, she follows him, even though she’s still completely unsure of the whole thing.

“This is really what you wanted to do?” She asks, and Satoru doesn’t miss the way she stiffens when he lets himself into the house without even a knock. She supposes knocking or ringing the doorbell would have been pointless, seeing as the music playing inside was so loud the bass could be heard from the front yard, but it unsettles her nonetheless.

No, he thinks.

But what he says is; “Why not?” with that big dumb grin of his that tells her she should keep her guard up tonight.

It’s strange that she can trust him with her life while simultaneously not trusting him in the slightest at this moment.

The house party is picture perfect, captured like every movie scene depicting a house party ever. Countless bodies inhabiting the open living room, the staircase, and the few hallways she could see just from stepping through the door. It seems everyone’s either holding a plastic cup, a beer bottle, a cigarette, or some combination of the three. When they take a few steps in and she doesn’t feel any weird stares, her stomach starts to settle, but the voice in the back of her mind still whines that she should’ve at least changed into a pair of jeans.

Satoru’s not taking any of it in- at all. Despite his Six Eyes, he hardly notices the bustling of dancing bodies, or bodies trying to push through the crowd. The music is at just the right volume to ring in his ears in a way that will ache tomorrow, but he doesn’t register the melody enough to identify the song, and he doesn’t try, either. He’s far more charmed by the way (y/n) takes it all in with complete enamourment and intrigue than he could be by the scene itself.

The scene itself was unimpressive. A loud, smoky atmosphere that had his skin crawling before even attempting to walk through the crowd of people made him want to wince. He tried to keep his expression as neutral as he could, not wanting to take away from (y/n’s) experience, but when his eyes surveyed the place, they squinted with disgust. It was even starting to smell.

“What first, hm?” He turned towards her in an attempt to block out the setting they found themselves in. If only he could turn off his Six Eyes and tunnel vision completely on her. “Body shots? Dancing?”

(y/n) scoffs, but a humored smile curls on her lips as she meets his gaze.

“How about just a drink?”

“A shot?”

“One beer”

His grin twitches, before he gives her a nod and takes off into the crowd that had his Infinity flickering on instantaneously. Satoru’s got his sights set straight on the kitchen, it seems a little less crowded in there, and the array of coolers and bottles on the counter was the most appealing thing about this place.

(y/n) let her eyes wander every person they passed, taking in everything she could. Every smile, every laugh, every outfit and anything else there was to take note of. A few people noticed her curious staring, some waved, some seemed indifferent, some stared back, but nothing captured her attention quicker than Satoru tapping her on the shoulder once they’d reached the kitchen. He’s already holding a bottle out to her, and she takes it with a quiet thank you.

He takes it back from her moments later when she tries to unscrew the bottle cap. The grin she knows to be cautious of returns as he points a finger at it, thumb outstretched, and with a quiet zap the cap flies off. Surprisingly, he doesn’t completely shatter the bottle with his abundance of cursed energy, but the bottle cap does go flying, and they hear a distant ‘ow!’.

“I could’ve found a bottle opener” (y/n) tells him, but he knows she was at least a little bit impressed by his finite control over his technique.

“But ya already got one,” He quips with pride. She stifles her laugh by raising the bottle to her lips, taking a few long drinks. Satoru’s eyebrows almost raise to his hairline, a shocked laugh belting out of him when she finishes.

“I figured you’ve never had a drop to drink before” He says when she gives him a confused look.

“I haven’t” She confirms. Satoru keeps his mouth shut after that.

They spend a few hours at the house party, to both of their surprise. There’s some mingling, (y/n) seemed to enjoy meeting new people, and drunk people seemed to enjoy flocking to her. Girls thought her attire was badass, guys liked talking to a girl that talked back- at least until Satoru’s face would screw up enough that they’d leave. Other than a few offers of phone numbers, he couldn’t say he hated the whole party setting.

But his acceptance of the whole ordeal might have had less to do with the party being fun and more to do with the company he kept for the night. As much as (y/n) moved about to enjoy every aspect of the simple party, she had a habit of sticking as close to his side as possible. If she was walking away, her hand was latching onto his, or his elbow, to keep him moving with her. If they were surrounded in a tightly packed space, she was glued to his side, tucked under her arm and pressed against him from torso to leg. Satoru deducted that he’d never show up to one of these things alone, but if she asked him? Hell, he might agree without thinking twice.

“Hear me out- hear me out!” She doesn’t need to tell him twice, but she shouts when she repeats herself just to be sure that Satoru can hear her clearly. “I think we should throw our- our own party, back at- back at home”

It’s cute that she calls it home, he thinks. Logically, he knows it’s because she’s never really had a solid place to land before Yaga scouted her and took her in, but it still has a way of making his heart flutter with the idea of her involving him in her idea of home.

They’ve taken a break from chatting with strangers, to Satoru’s relief, and right now he had her attention all to himself. They were currently wallflowering in a corner between the hallway and the living room, a water bottle being passed between them, although he tried to keep it more in her hands than his, considering she out drank him rather quickly.

“I dunno, Suguru and Shoko aren’t really party animals,” He replies, earning a bubbly giggle from her, which he takes to mean she agrees. “I think you might just be enjoying yourself too much”

“No such thing,” She argues with a definitive shake of her head. “And don’t lie, you’re having fun, too!”

She’s shouting a bit again, and Satoru laughs. Shoko and Suguru wouldn’t believe him later when he tells them about how cute she was when she was tipsy and talkative. Oh well, he’d have to enjoy it for himself first hand. He already couldn’t get enough of it, of her eager attention. He’s so wrapped up in it he’s been leaning closer and closer each time she speaks. Until he’s practically hanging onto the corner of the wall, pressing closer to the side she’d been leaning against.

“I wouldn’t attribute that to this party” He scoffs, almost rudely as he glances at the remaining people.

There’s a couple making out on the couch, a circle forming at the bottom of the stairs with a bong being slowly passed around, a few people are passed out on open furniture, at least one person sleeping on the floor- and he can only imagine what’s going on upstairs.

When he looks back at her, her eyes are already focused on his. Round and full of pure delight, as if this had been the greatest night of her life. Satoru pushes his sunglasses on top of his head, revealing the slight squint in his gaze. (y/n) tilts her head curiously when she catches the furrow forming in his brows, too.

“What?” She asks him, still studying his puzzled expression. It’s a bit difficult, with his pretty eyes on display, her mind was a little one track at the moment and it was hard to focus on anything other than the perfect cerulean oceans.

“How come you never went out ‘n did this stuff before moving here?”

Her shoulders rise and fall unceremoniously.

“I guess cause no one ever dragged me into doing them. Teleporters were in short supply, too” She laughs at her own joke, and Satoru cracks a smile, reveling in her amusement.

“Well aren’t you in luck, then,” He hums, and he admits his insides are starting to feel doughy when he’s the object her soft gaze is so set on, and it’s probably about time to convince her to head home, but that would mean ruining her fun, and he can’t bring himself to do so just yet. “Did you get to have all the synthetically produced fun you wanted?” He teases, and she shrugs again, but this time the motion is gentler, more careful.

“I had a good time with you,” The reply is genuine, making it all the more hard hitting to his heart. Even his Infinity couldn’t protect him from that. Her eyes finally tear away from his, only to glance over the dwindling crowd of drunken bodies. “You sort of scared off all my kiss options though”

“Kiss options?” He repeats with a laugh, taking her comment for a joke. When she looks up at him again, he can tell in her deluded, drunken mind, she’d been absolutely serious. “You’re joking. You wanted to kiss one of these clowns?” He clicks his tongue in displeasure, but her expression doesn’t waver.

“It’s a bit late for it now. But I figured it was as good a time as any to get it out of the way,” She says, in that light but serious tone again, and now Satoru feels his heart dropping. “Oh well,” She sighs, leaning further into the wall, until her head rested against it. “Another time…”

“What, it’s on your bucket list to kiss some rando?” He teases half-heartedly.

Had she been trying to make a move on someone all night? Now Satoru’s mind was racing with thoughts that made his stomach twist into knots. Had he misread their entire evening? Had she been trying to ditch him? Was he the one clinging to her? Well, he’d clung a little bit, but it felt natural to wrap his arm around her waist and keep her close! His heart started hammering in his chest as the nasty feeling in his gut began to climb up his throat.

“No,” She says, laughing under her breath at the idea. “Just wanted to get the first one over with”

Gojo’s eyes widen almost comically, before he leans in and drops his voice to a whisper, as if to spare her any embarrassment.

“As in first kiss?” He mutters, eyes darting around just to be sure no one else could hear. (y/n’s) laughter bubbles at his dramatic display, and takes no offense to it at all, simply nodding her head.

“Yeah, as in first kiss,” She repeats with the same secretive act, before laughing again. “Don’t act all surprised now”

“Baby, I’m not acting,” The pet name falls off his tongue sarcastically, but he can’t deny it feels a bit too natural. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“Nope” She pops her lips and shakes her head.

“And of all places you wanted to kiss someone here?” He asks, his lips curling into a grimace as he recalled the candidates from earlier. The pickings weren’t exactly ripe.

“It was just a kiss,” She rolls her eyes at his reaction. “I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, Satoru, I just wanted to know what it was like. Figured it might come up organically in a party setting”

Satoru sticks his tongue out and gags.

“Absolutely not. Why didn’t you just say somethin’? I would’ve kissed ya”

“That doesn’t count” She shakes her head, and he narrows his eyes back at her.

“And why not?” He asks, clearly offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a great kisser!”

“Oh yeah? Your hand told you so?” (y/n) snickers, and Satoru’s pout noticeably worsens. “I don’t want a pity kiss, I want a real kiss. Y’know, so I can be good at it before it… really matters”

“It would be a real kiss, dummy, what difference does it make?” He’s not following her logic, and he can’t tell if it’s drunk (y/n) logic or if this had been on her mind all night.

She blinks at him, the humor in her features fading away the longer he stares back at her and she begins to realize he’s being serious. Her brows twitch, and her mouth opens but no words come out. What was she supposed to say? Yes, kiss me now!? It felt awkward to suddenly rush into it and accept his offer. But she also didn’t want to let the moment pass and regret it later.

“It won’t be weird,” Satoru purses his lips and shakes his head with as much nonchalance as he can muster. It’s as though he’s reading her mind, and the thought of taking him up on it makes her face feel warm. “Besides, I would be a bad friend letting you have a bad first kiss with some non-sorcerer that doesn’t know what he’s doing”

“You’d feel bad?” A small laugh escapes her as she teases him, tilting her chin up at him. Satoru nods his head from side to side with uncertain confirmation. “Okay then”

“Okay?” He repeats.

“Yeah”

“You’ll let me?”

It’s an odd way of phrasing it, she’ll let him kiss her, as if he was the one seeking it out in the first place. However Satoru was simply doing her a favor, wasn’t he? Helping her get the first one out of the way. He’d much rather he do it himself than let any of the idiots she met tonight get the chance. But that’s just because they weren’t worthy like he was, and that was a fair assessment, wasn’t it?

He swallows the lump in his throat with only a little difficulty before she nods back at him and gives him a hum of approval. She’ll actually let him.

When he doesn’t make a move, she tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Well?”

“Well come on,” He beckons her, before taking her by the hand and pulling her away from the wall they’d been hugging for the better part of an hour. “Can’t have it be in some stranger’s house, might as well get a better view than that, yeah?”

He grins at her as he half guides and half drags her outside. She’s a little lost on his logic, because it was just a kiss wasn’t it? Did the setting really matter? Although once they’re outside she has to admit the moon’s luminescence did provide a nicer atmosphere. A smile graces her face as she admires the sky, until Satoru stops them.

“Here’s good,” He decides, grinning back at her. “Got a speech planned? Anyone you want to thank?”

“Well, I never thought I’d make it this far,” She giggles as she goes along with the bit. “I suppose at the end of it all I only have myself to thank, really-”

“Ahem”

“Oh, and of course Gojo Satoru, for the wonderful opportunity,” She corrects, barely containing her laughter through her made-up speech. Satoru brightens, grinning from ear to ear at her delight. “I think that’s all I got”

He chuckles, before taking a step forward and closing the already small distance between them. Her breath hitches in her throat as reality sets in. She didn’t really think about actually kissing Satoru until he was close enough that his cologne wafted past her nose, and her eyes naturally fell to the pink curve of his lips.

“I’m not kissin’ you with your eyes open,” He laughs breathlessly, and her eyes briefly flicker up to his before she lets them shut. The heat in her face begins to spread down her neck as she holds her breath. “You need me to count down?” He asks, and he’s only partially joking.

“Just kiss me, ‘toru-”

He doesn’t need further assurance beyond her impatient little whine, so in one motion he slides hand around the back of her neck, pulling her forehead just as he dipped his head to meet her lips with his.

She’s frozen at first, unmoving under his soft mouth prodding against hers, but he expected as much. After two seconds, she slowly and carefully kisses him back, still nervous she’d do something wrong.

Her hands are planted firmly at her sides, and her eyes are squeezed shut, but she still cherishes every second of the simple kiss. How sweet his lips taste, how warm and welcoming they are, how much she’d like to stand there and kiss him for a few minutes more…

When she pulls away to catch her breath that she’d been holding in for far too long, Satoru’s hand lingers at the nape of her neck. His fingers twitch, indecisive in what to do next.

Kissing her again wasn’t the right move… was it?

“Thank you,” She tells him softly, her blush prominent on her face even in the dark. “Should we get going now?”

He could almost laugh at how quickly she moved on if it didn’t sting a little. He hides it behind a smile as he nods his head in agreement, getting ready to warp them back home.

“You could’ve thanked my hand in your speech too” He teases as she wraps her arms round one of his, mentally preparing for the dizzying effect of teleportation.

“Shut up” She giggles back before they disappear from the scene.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru’s never turned down (y/n’s) company. He’s never wanted her to be away from him, and he’d never ask her to, either. There was no one whose presence he delighted in more than hers- and he was starting to really come to terms with what that meant.

“You should go to bed,” He tells her, for the third time tonight.

There was no reason for him to stay up on guard with him. He had surveillance covered while Suguru and Riko slept. There was no sense in (y/n) staying up all night and wasting away her energy. Not when she’d already done so last night, despite his protests then, too.

She’s sitting on the other end of the sofa, a small carton of ice cream in her hands that she was poking around in, trying to scoop out all of the brownie bits first. She looks like she hadn’t even heard him, but Satoru’s not falling for it.

“Seriously, (y/n), you need rest” He sighs, hoping tonight he’d get through to her.

She hums thoughtfully, her eyes focused on her snack, and Satoru throws his head back against the couch cushion in defeat.

“We could put a movie on, good way to pass time,” She suggests, completely ignoring his request. “I’ll even let you pick” She adds, shooting him a warm smile.

“You’re not gonna sleep, are you?” Satoru frowns when he turns his head to look at her. Her smile remains as she shakes her head.

“Nope,” She murmurs sweetly. “So you might as well pick something to watch”

She’d pulled this last night, too. Convincing him to hang out at the beach all night, swimming and stargazing. He adored her company, he really did, but she hadn’t slept a wink yesterday, and he couldn’t put her through 48 straight hours without it.

He knows she’s exhausted, her eyes were dull, and starting to get puffy from lack of rest. She did her best keeping up an energetic attitude, especially during the day when Suguru and Riko had still been awake, she’d fooled them almost too easily. But Satoru knew better. He knew her better.

“If I put a movie on will you at least lay down?”

Her eyes narrow at him, before she lowers her ice cream to her lap.

“Are you trying to trick me into falling asleep, Satoru?”

“I’m trying to make sure you’re not going to go delirious because you’re not sleeping a normal human amount-” He tries to argue but she interrupts him.

“You haven’t slept either, hypocrite,” She mutters the last part. “I’m resting enough just sitting around for the night, aren’t I?”

“No-”

“Pick the damn movie, Satoru”

He huffs, but for some reason he finds himself putting a random disc in the dvd player before he falls onto the sofa again. (y/n) remains at her end, slowly picking at her ice cream while the movie starts. Satoru doesn’t have the energy to argue with her- literally, he’s starting to get tired keeping his Infinity up like this- so he sits in silence and watches the tv. All he can do now is hope that she’ll get tired over time and maybe just pass out. She couldn’t keep it up forever, could she?

Two more movies later, Satoru worries he’d grossly underestimated her. It had been almost six hours- it was nearing four in the morning- and she still reluctantly had her eyes glued to the tv. He’d tried a few more times to convince her, but all he’d managed was to get her to share a blanket with him.

It hadn’t been enough. She settled under the fluffy blanket, right up against his side, and still it wasn’t enough coziness to lure her into sleep. He had to give her some credit for her stubbornness, that was for sure.

Around the 4:30 mark, he feels a weight pressing into his shoulder- well, against the Infinity, and he’s filled with so much hope he almost drops the barrier just to fully enjoy the feeling of her sleeping against him.

Then she alerts him that she’s still awake by speaking.

“Satoru,” It’s soft, so faint that he holds onto hope that she could still drift off. “If I do fall asleep, you’ll wake me up, won’t you?”

He chuckles, before sliding his arm around her back, making sure to tuck the blanket up to her shoulder before he settles his arm there, keeping her tucked in against him. He tells himself that this is all to make sure she’ll get some sleep- against her will or not- and that it had nothing to do with how his heart felt full when she snuggled a little deeper into his hold.

“You know I’m not gonna, Special Grade,” He murmurs back. She grumbles something inaudible, but he assumes it has something to do with the heavier droop of her head.

After a few minutes, he raises his hand from her shoulder, and slowly presses his fingers against her temple, easing her into a more comfortable position, until eventually he feels her slump completely as she gives in.

He lets their movie keep on rolling once she’s finally asleep against him, it at least held his attention enough to keep him awake. The hammering of his heart in his chest might’ve also kept his adrenaline kicking for long enough that it wouldn’t have mattered, though.

The following day, (y/n) gives him a few icy glares, just to remind him that she didn’t appreciate his cruel trick. Riko and Suguru share a few awkward glances as the two half fight and half joke about the whole thing. They try to remove themselves from the pair’s bantering as much as they can, unable to stand the levels of chemistry they carried into every room.

“Seriously Satoru, it’s going to make me sick,” Suguru mutters to his friend at one point, while (y/n) and Riko are busy wandering the shore for seashells, or something. “Make a move or don’t, but you’re driving the rest of us mad”

Satoru laughs, his eyes squinting against the sun even with his shades on. It was getting exhausting keeping them open, the amount of cursed energy it took to keep up Infinity and his Six Eyes had been giving him headaches all day, but he did his best to hide it.

“You’re just jealous that she likes me more” He says, even though Suguru doesn’t care in the slightest, and he even rolls his eyes to drive that point home.

“Well she’s not gonna like you forever if you keep up this dumb game,” He argues. “What kind of friends kiss and then don’t do anything about it?”

“I told you that in confidence” Satoru whines.

“You told me in the middle of the night right after it happened,” Suguru reminds him in a plain tone of voice. “Seriously, we all know she has feelings for you, so stop being a coward”

“Not a coward,’ Satoru mumbles, kicking at the sand. “We’re just… sorta in the middle of something here?” He tries to blame it on the assignment, but Suguru gives him a blank look.

“We’re at the beach,” He mutters. “She’s been staying up with you, too, so do it then, after the rest of us have gone to sleep” He points a finger at him for the last part, making sure it was crystal clear.

“I don’t know. Maybe” Satoru huffs, and starts to walk away before Suguru could drag the conversation on any longer.

He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening mulling it over. He’d known how he felt about her for quite some time now, before he’d even kissed her. The kiss was just the solidification that his feelings were real, and not some romanticized imagination his mind had drawn up. But he’d never felt love before, and he had no clue how to go about professing it.

He’s antsy when he and (y/n) find themselves on the beach again that night, long past sunset, long past when everyone else had gone to bed. They’re both seated on a towel to keep their clothes clear of sand, but with their feet digging into the soft grains it didn’t matter, the towel became a mess anyways.

“I don’t want you to stay up too late again,” He tells her, although it feels useless. “It’s just not good for you,” He looks over at her, taking in the darker circles under her eyes, the paleness in her features even after spending the day in the sun. “And it’s not worth it”

She gives him a bittersweet smile, her head tilting just slightly as she regards his worry.

“It is worth it,” She replies quietly. “I don’t want you to be alone out here,” She tells him, watching the way his expression falters and softens. “It’s just not good for you” She mimics him with a laugh for good measure, and he barely cracks a smile, but his worry is still evident.

“Well, when this assignment is over, can you promise to sleep for three days straight to make up for it?” He asks, and she thinks it over for a moment before nodding her head in agreement.

“I suppose,” She answers. “As long as you do, too,” She adds quickly, “Fair is fair”

Satoru rolls his eyes, but his smile is a little more genuine this time.

“Alright then, 72 hours of sleep it is,” He gives in. “But I’m holding you to that promise”

“I don’t break promises,” She tells him confidently, before a quietness settles between them again. Her gaze lingers on the low tide rolling in as she lets her mind wander, and before she knows it, she’s speaking up again. “I know you don’t think you need anyone looking out for you, Satoru,”

He looks at her right away, tired eyes widening at the sudden seriousness in her tone. She’s still watching the tide, completely captured by it, but he can tell she’s holding in more.

“But I… I worry about you,” She admits, dropping her head to stare at her lap. “I don’t want you to take on more than you can handle, I… I don’t want them to take advantage of you anymore,”

She swallows the lump in her throat before finally working up the courage to look over at him.

“I know that you’re the strongest, and it’s gonna happen but… but I can’t help this feeling like… I’m here too, you know? I can take things on too, assignments, or… this,” She gives him a weak smile, hoping he understands that her sentiment comes from a good place. “I care about you, you know?” She finishes in a whisper.

Satoru’s eyes shift in between hers as he takes it in. How ironic, that every reason she has for putting herself through hours without rest, were the exact reasons that he wanted her to get rest. The corner of his lips tugs into a small smile as he takes her in now, completely.

Her exhaustion is evident, but with the way she’s looking at him now, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In an act of complete selfish desire, he leans over the space between them and plants his lips on hers. Her eyes widen at first, alarmed by the sudden kiss, and the fact that he’s dropped his Infinity in order to touch her at all, but as soon as the shock starts to wear off her eyes fall shut and she’s kissing him back with all the fervor that she wished she had the first time.

It’s another pleasant surprise when she reaches out and finds her fingertips bumping into his cheekbones, before her entire hands up his warm face and she’s pulling him closer to her, kissing him again- and then again some more.

Satoru’s balance is thrown off from the way he leans against her, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed when he wraps his arms around the dip in her back and pulls her closer to him. She obliges with a soft sigh panted against his lips before they’re colliding again.

For all the passion he pours into it- for every ounce of need and impatience he feels, he kisses her slowly, each one lingering a little longer than the last, just to be sure he commits every detail of it to his memory, where it could be preserved in his perfection forever.

He doesn’t let go of her when they finally pull apart, and she doesn’t pull her hands away from his face, either. They keep each other close, as close as they can while still catching their breath.

Her eyes are wide when they meet his, confused and ecstatic all in one sweet expression that Satoru wants to add to his collection of memories. He smiles at her as his eyes wander her face leisurely.

“What was that for?” She murmurs, the pad of her thumb rubbing over the delicate curve of his cheekbone with nothing but fondness in her touch.

He chuckles, warm breath fanning over her lips.

Wasn’t it obvious?

“Because,”

His voice is a mere murmur, and for a moment she thinks that might be his entire answer. She wouldn’t put it past him, but there’s a look in his eyes that resembles longing, and she knows there must be more.

“I love you too”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes // i'm your national anthem ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie a/n: i actually had a super rad cursed technique planned for reader but ended up not writing any scenes where she's using it so u WILL see it come up in another fic sometime

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #satoru gojo imagine #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 4 months

Text

A DC X DP IDEA # 24

A Chill Protector

Imagine dis…

We all heard about the different spirits hidden beneath the thick blanket of snow, and how winter and ice were always associated with death. As many succumb to the winter cold weather.

Parents tell their children myths and legends to their children as the snow spirits will drag them out of their warm home if they ever misbehave. Snow spirits both legends/ myths alike walk along the icy path and will drag any unsuspecting traveler to be their next victim. The horror stories he saw and heard as to why no matter how officials try to recover the bodies that might have been lost to the blizzard and snow could never have a body to return to.

But not all snow-related spirits from any legend or myth are there to lead us to a cold death. Some are protectors, to children who simply lost their way or even they join in the play.

But did you know there was a protector from the old?

Danny Phantom edition

…

Little Bruce Wayne is running to where no one knows, not even himself. That year will be the first Christmas without his parents. In the cold harsh winter in Gotham, tears never stopped flowing through. Alfred tried his best he did but some holes could not be filled with gingerbread cookies or hot cocoa. Little Bruce kept on running and running, he wanted his parents to be here, his mom who could be heard singing Christmas carols in the manor while his dad secretly put the gifts under the Christmas tree and signed the gifts from Santa, he missed the times where they would decorate the Christmas tree with both his mom and dad.

Little Bruce ran until he found himself in the middle of nowhere. There were street lampposts but no people, perhaps they had already begun to hide themselves from the upcoming harsh winter. Little Bruce tried to go back, he turned and turned but could not remember where he came from. A harsh blizzard heading towards Gotham that day, Little Bruce remembers as the dark grey clouds started to form out of nowhere.

Little Bruce tried to hide from the upcoming blizzard by squishing himself in between the dumpsters in the far corner. He knew that even if he asked for help there would be a likely chance for him to be kidnapped and be ransomed than be helped. He may be born from the higher class but he is still a Gothamite and knows of the dangers of outing himself.

Unluckily some homeless men saw and recognized him and tried to corner him, Little Bruce ran again into the unknown. He tries to lose his pursuers by sandwiching himself in between dumpsters. He had held his breath when the said pursuers ran past his hiding spots in their midst of angry grunts.

As he tried to warm himself a stranger went and crouched in front of him. Little Bruce never heard the crunching of boots when he walked so he was understandably startled, thinking that he was one of the men who were after him. A young boy with soft white hair, probably dyed a thought passed by, the bluest of eyes he had ever seen from anybody, freckles that looked like snowflakes decorating his cheeks, and an impish grin as he wore a white hoodie and cargo pants with sneakers and carrying a blue umbrella staring at Little Bruce with clear playfulness in his eyes.

Little Bruce knows that winter in Gotham is far worse than anywhere in the States yet he never seemed to question the stranger to only have a hoodie and shorts.

Little Bruce is wary of the stranger but he just puts an umbrella on top of him and puts his finger on his lips making a shushing gesture and noise as he winks playfully to Bruce.

Bruce who already sensed that this stranger had no malice but pure playfulness copied him giving his grin and shush.

Next, he was there holding an umbrella on top of his head the next time Little Bruce blinked he was gone.

When he tried to look for the kind stranger, he saw Alfred running towards him with clear relief and exhaustion. Alfred tried to scan him for any injuries, when little Bruce tried to ask about the kind stranger Alfred mentioned how it was a miracle, that he was still alive after 3 hours in this kind of weather.

Little Bruce kept telling Alfred that there was someone, someone who was kind someone who hid him someone who put an umbrella over his head. As the years went by Bruce kept looking for that kind Samaritan who saved him that day but over the years that memory made Bruce think that it may have been the light and the snow that made him imagine that stranger, how he was still grieving over his parents at the time. He concluded that the stranger was nothing more than a figment of his imagination to deal with his grief at that time.

…

Years later Batman along with his sons Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin were on a mission in the high ridge in Antarctica on the East Antarctic Plateau. About a suspicious sound wave which resulted in them botching another alien invasion. But before they could even go back to the plane another dying alien had shot an explosive in their direction, it may have missed them but their transportation was destroyed. Another blizzard was expected in a few minutes which brought the temperature to -135.8 F. They may have some heat built in their suits but not enough to warm them into the upcoming blizzard. It will take hours before Oracle and the others back send help to them. Superman is on a mission in outer space and cannot hear them.

As they make a makeshift shelter from the debris of the broken plane each then starts a quiet yet somber conversation with one another. Without the screaming and the death threats some of them had a few things to say to each other, Dick tried to be optimistic as they have survived far more dangerous situations and scenarios surely they can survive this and remove it from their bingo card. Maybe it’s an unconscious belief of their upcoming death, the heat sensors in their suit are already working overtime to give them warmth when fighting off the aliens, they could already see the battery in it draining as fast as they see the strongest snow storm approaching.

Batman had his entire arms surround each of his children. Wishing that his children survived this as he could hear the howling icy wind coming through the tiny cracks in their makeshift shelter.

Suddenly Batman heard the unmistakable sound of crunching of boots in the snow. He also noticed that all of his children fell into a deep sleep with how deep each breathing was. He slowly looked up and widened his eyes at what he saw.

There standing is the same white-haired teen wearing the same hoodie, the same pants, the same shoes, and carrying the same umbrella looking at him with the same playfulness twinkling in his eyes.

The teen once more opened his umbrella and put it over the head of Bruce along with his children who were huddled together. Slowly put his finger to his lips and made the same shushing sound and gesture as if they were back in the alley in between dumpsters hiding the little Bruce Wayne as if they were playing hide and seek.

Batman was just staring at him, one moment he was there next moment he was gone, like back then. Spoiler and Orphan found and came rushing to their location as they had been looking for them for 6 hours the snow and wind made it difficult to look for them.

…

Danny had fully died when he was 78 years old, he formed and turned back into his ghostly prime of 14 years old and turned into some sort of protective spirit of the winter side. Frostbite explained on how the great one can finally stop the stigma against winter spirits. Frostbite explained that the majority of the winter spirits are vengeful to the mortals, sure his tribe to end the stigma but many people just kept running away from them and when they went near a mortal they were already dead and buried them for the death rites, As Danny is both protector and a winter spirit he can finally stop the stigma as well continue fulfilling his obsession. Clockwork then added that he had the perfect dimension as a tutorial for Danny.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton

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deliciousangelfestival · 11 months

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Hello angel !!!

I have a story request. I have read all your story with dad!Ransom. What if Ransom met Lloyd because their kids, Naomi and Sean, are friends?

That’s a good idea bestie!!!

Here it goes!! I hope you like it.

"You?!"

Lloyd smirked when an old acquaintance saw him. "Long time no see Ransom."

Today Lloyd picked up Sean from the elementary school. His son was a quiet and gentle kid before he entered school, but he has become more active since he got friends.

Sean always talks about this friend "Naomi brings another storybook that's so cool, and-."

Lloyd immediately checked Naomi's family and was surprised. Her father is….

Ransom Drysdale was shocked when he met his former roommate from college at his daughter's school.

Random clicked his tongue. "I saw you several times at several events and I avoided you."

"Ehh? Why? It's nice to meet an old friend."

"Daddy and Sean dad are friends?" Naomi looks at her father and then back to Lloyd.

Ransom answered, "No."

While Lloyd leaned down, grabbed Sean, and held Naomi's hand, "Yes we are, like you and Sean."

'Like hell we are,' thought Ransom.

He remembered they used to be roommates, and their rooms always stunk because Lloyd just put his dirty clothes anywhere he wanted.

And this sociopath guy always wears his expensive T-shirt with his permission. Ransom couldn't take it anymore, so he asked Linda to buy an apartment for him.

Ransom crossed his arms. "How come you could be a father of that polite kid?" When he met Sean for the first time, he was so polite towards him and other parents. In comparison, his father brings problems wherever he goes.

Lloyd shrugged his shoulder. "How come an active kid like her could have a lazy father like you?"

His words made Ransom snap, "Excuse me, I'm not lazy. My book became a best seller and was adapted into a box office movie."

"Of course he didn't get that from a sociopath like me. He got that from his mom." Lloyd doesn't feel offended. In fact, he becomes more proud his son doesn't have the same personality as him.

Both of them keep arguing while other parents who used to be intimidated by these 2 tall men try to hold their laughter while listening to their bickering.

#3billiondivorce #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #dad!lloyd hansen #dad!ransom drysdale

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boxofbonesfic · 23 days

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Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,776

A/N: whew. okay. we’re back, we’re updating, and we’re getting back on track. i think the motivation behind the madness is becoming a little clearer. or at least, more clear. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and especially reblogs are always appreciated. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

It’s your wedding day, again.

You remember the soft white satin of your dress like it was yesterday—only it’s today, isn’t it? How can something happen again if it hasn’t happened yet? You look down at your hands, where the lacy sleeves of your wedding dress loop gracefully around your thumbs—your nails are picked raw and bleeding. You look back up at the mirror, and your own distraught face stares back at you.

I don’t want to get married.

No, that isn’t right—this is a good day, a happy day, why don’t you want it anymore? There is knowledge that dances just out of touch as you stare fuzzily at the mirror in your bridal suite. Something is wrong, but you don’t remember what it is. The mirror fragments, each component folding away as the world tilts on it’s axis, wood flooring becoming red carpet strewn with rose petals.

You stand at the altar, the priest beaming at you.

You will take him won’t you? As husband, husband and wife—Ransom splits in two like a cell, and both of them hold your hands so tight the bones creak and hurt and—

“I love you, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling, Mine—” One voice, two mouths, one person, two bodies. You don’t realize they’re pulling until you tear, splitting right down the middle like you’re made of tissue paper. too. Pulling you to bloody pieces as they repeat oaths of husbandly devotion.

My wife.

MY WIFE.

You wake up in darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. It disorients you, and you blink, expecting the cloud to clear from your eyes but it doesn’t. Immediately your hand goes to your stomach, and your frantic heartbeat calms just a fraction as you rest a hand on the gentle swell. The thoughts in your head are still an anxious jumble. Ransom, Lloyd, the party—

God, the party.

Your stomach churns as you recall Lloyd’s cruel smile.

Tell him. Tell me what he says.

You clap a hand to your mouth as an anguished sob threatens to escape. Ransom, Lloyd… where had they taken you? You frantically feel your way to the edge of the bed, your feet slipping a little on the cool tile as you stand.

“H-hello?” You call out into the darkness, but there’s no response. Trembling, you begin taking short, halting steps forward, your hands outstretched. “P-please, someone—fuck!” You curse loudly as your foot catches the edge of something, a table, a chair, you can’t tell. “Answer me!”

No one does.

You wander forward blindly until you reach a wall, and, feeling along it, you feel plaster turn to glass. You gasp, frantically dragging your hands along the surface until feel something—a switch. You flick it up, and there’s a sound like whirring gears. The lights don’t come on, but something else happens instead: the blackout shades on the other side of the thick pane of glass begin to lift, light creeping in underneath the edge. It’s blinding at first, spots dancing in your eyes as you throw a hand up to shield them, but after a moment, they adjust.

You see… a beach.

An empty beach.

The clear blue water comes straight up to the window like an aquarium. There are no people on the pristine, white sand—no one to hear you as you frantically beat your palm against the glass. Frantically, you turn around to take stock of the room, grabbing for a nearby chair. You knock over the little coffee table in the sitting area next to you, but you don’t care. It takes all your strength to heft it above your head, screaming as you slam it into the glass—

But nothing happens. It connects with a dull thud, the treated wood splintering as it cracks. The window is unharmed, barely even scratched. An anguished wail tears from your chest as you throw everything within reach that you can lift, beating everything into splinters until you’re left panting and sobbing in the wreckage.

“Sweetheart you know that really isn’t good for the baby.” You whirl around frantically, grabbing for the leg of a chair you’d broken into kindling against the indestructible-fucking-window, brandishing it threateningly. You hadn’t even heard the sound of a door opening—in fact, as you stare, wide-eyed around the room, trying to pin down his point of entry, you can’t seem to find a door at all in the lavishly decorated suite.

“Fuck you!” You snarl at him, your lip curling. “Let—let me out of here!” Ransom clucks his tongue at you like you’re an errant child.

“You’re a smart girl, Love. You know I’m not going to do that.”

“You can’t fucking keep me in here—” Ransom shakes his head.

“I can, Sweetheart. And I’m going to. We’re going to.” He casts a disparaging look down at the ruined chairs and table by your feet. “Lloyd did tell me not to put the good stuff in first—I underestimated your temper.” The casual remark makes you want to swing your makeshift bat at his head. “He designed it for you, you know. I thought we could just lock you in the basement, but now that I see it, I think this is better.”

“You’re a monster.” You’re crying, hard, hysterical sobs that leave your throat raw and aching. He actually has the gall to look hurt by your insult, his face crumpling as his mouth presses into a thin, angry line.

“A monster that loves you. That would do anything to protect you—even from yourself.” Your body seizes with fear as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, gripping your shoulders with furious hands. You whine as he squeezes, pressing harder and harder until you drop the scrap of wood you’re holding. You don’t know this Ransom, this maniacal, cruel man wearing your husband’s face, your husband’s ring.

“Do you remember what it was like when we got together?” He asks. Ransom shakes you a little, like he’s trying to jog your memory. “Living at home with your parents, helping them with every single bill because you were terrified your sister was going to graduate high-school on the streets—”

“So what?” You spit back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“I gave you everything.” For the first time you see the same possessive madness in his eyes you’d seen in Lloyd’s. “And you think you can just walk away? Take from me until you’ve gotten your fill? That’s not how this works, Sweetheart.” He releases you and you stumble away, clutching yourself. He straightens his shirt, smoothing back the errant hairs that have fallen into his face.

“We’re going to give you such a good life, Sweetheart. You just have to trust us.”

“I will never trust you again.” You growl the words at him like a threat. “I hate you.” And then, inexplicably, he’s your Ransom again, his blue eyes soft as he looks at you, like he knows something you haven’t yet come to accept. Like an adult admonishing a child for fears they’ll soon leave behind as they grow to accept the way things are—the way they always will be.

“You won’t always.” His eyes flick down to the destruction you’ve wrought, and he clucks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll talk to Lloyd about bringing in some new furniture for you, if you’re good.” Ransom’s handsome mouth curves up into an amused smile. “Maybe something a little heavier.” He kicks at a piece of the table, before making his way back over to the other side of the room. A door the same color as the wall opens at his touch.

“Lunch in an hour.”

—

True to his word Ransom returns with Lloyd in tow, a tray held in his large hands. You’d waited for this moment with a dark sort of anticipation, and for a brief moment, their stunned, angry expressions as the door panel slides open fill you with a sense of profound pride.

You’d done your level best to destroy everything that wasn’t nailed down, methodically and systematically taking apart everything you could get your hand on. Even the mattress lies ruined, feathers and wood splinters littering the torn cover. Though the mirror had refused to break—and indeed proved too heavy for you to lift—you feel a smug satisfaction in seeing what you had been able to accomplish with jagged pieces of plywood.

Fuck you.

Lloyd steps in first, squatting down to inspect a piece of the smashed coffee table.

“I told you we shouldn’t have put this stuff in here first. Empty room, Ransom. You always have to start with an empty room.” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles softly—affectionately. “Hi, Princess.”

“Go to hell, Lloyd.” Ransom steps fully into your room then, shutting the door gently behind him before setting the tray on the windowsill. He sighs.

“I know it was stupid to hope your attitude had improved in an hour, but stranger things have happened.” He glances back at the tray. “You should eat something, Love. It’s been four days of—” His words become a static drone as the panic begins to set in. Four days? I’ve been out for four days? The questions fill your head almost faster than you can process them. Where are you? Your parents, your sister? What happened?

“What is this? What is this fucking place?”

The pride in Ransom’s eyes makes you want to vomit. “We made it for you. Just for you. It took—how long, Lloyd?”

“A year, give or take.” He rubs his fingers along the growing stubble on his upper lip. “And then finding staff…” He pauses. “The hotel, or just the Room?” The way Lloyd says room makes it sound singular, important. You cannot help but gape at them

“You’re sick—both of you. Y-you—what you did to me—” You shake your head. “A-all of this.” You gesture at the room around you. “For what?” Lloyd threads his fingers together, and you can hear the soft metal click of his rings tapping against each other as he does.

“I know you’re not deaf, Princess. It’s for you.”

Cold trickles down your spine. You’ve been doing it ever since you woke up, running through each moment in the past four, five and cataloguing each one you couldn’t make make sense. You’re doing it again now, thumbing back through the index cards of your memories and finding empty slots. Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters—Ransom had told you it had been a year, but you can’t trust that, you can’t believe him, not after everything.

“My family won’t let you do this sick fucking shit, you know that.” You spit. “They’re not going to let you kidnap me—”

“How much is Nathalie’s school, Sweetheart?” Ransom asks, cocking his head. “Per year.”

“What?” The question throws you off, the freight train of words in your throat piling up messily on your tongue. “What are you—”

“How much is her tuition?” He repeats it slowly like you’re having trouble understanding him. You bare your teeth at Ransom as you grimace.

“I don’t know. She has a scholarship. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s $63,000.” Ransom gives you the figure so matter-of-factly it’s like he rehearsed it. “Per year.” Your stomach sinks, like your body knows before your head. “What, you didn’t know? No one ever reads the paperwork, do they, Lloyd?” He glances at his brother over his shoulder. “What’s it say on the checks? T. H. B. Inc., doesn’t it?” He licks his lips. “The T stands for Thrombey, Sweetheart.”

You almost want to laugh for the insanity of it all—you even try, but no sound escapes your tight, dry throat. Lloyd nods.

“Same as the ones your father gets. Funny how his company’s picked up these last few years, isn’t it?”

Your fists clench and unclench as you sit there on the floor, staring up at them. There’s nothing left to destroy, nothing left to break except the two of them—and you already know how that ends. Instead, you’re forced to sit there, hot rage coiling in your chest as the realization dawns cold and cutting—

Your family is already bought and paid for, even if they don’t know it.

“I never asked you for this.” You spit, nails biting into the meat of your palms as you press angry fists against the cool tile. “I didn’t ask you for fucking any of this!”

“I promised to make a home for you, didn’t I, Sweetheart?” He squats down in front of you, his hand out like he wants you to take it. “A good husband provides.” It isn’t supposed to feel like being cut into a thousand pieces to hear his wedding vows regurgitated like this. His gaze drops to the ring still on your finger. You hadn’t noticed it until he did, and as he watches, you rip it from your finger with a violent twist, and throw it at him. He actually looks upset at this, a hint of his earlier rage passing over his features like a cloud.

You hate the way it makes your gut wrench because you want him to fucking hurt. It’s like your body hasn’t realized yet just who he is—who they are, and it makes you even angrier. You turn away, loose nightgown bunching under your thighs as you turn to face the wall instead.

“Leave me alone.”

“Not until you eat something.” You aren’t sure if it’s Ransom that speaks, or Lloyd. You press your eyes shut and bite your lips to shutter the angry, frustrated wail that threatens to leap from your throat. “That’s not good for the baby.”

Good for the baby.

Good for the fucking baby.

You want to hate it now; the child growing inside of you, even if only to spite the men standing behind you. But you cannot bring yourself to—and you hate that too.

Shame is not a new feeling, not for you, but it feels new today as you pick apart the plain chicken salad sandwich they had brought for you. Assume it’s drugged. You hate yourself as you tear off chunks with stiff fingers, forcing your mouth open and swallowing it down with a grimace. Assume everything is drugged. When you’re finished, you drag the back of your hand across your mouth roughly, tossing the tray at Lloyd’s feet.

He doesn’t pick it up.

“Good girl.” You shiver. It’s involuntary, and you know he sees it, the way his mouth twitches with the urge to lift into the smug smile you know so well. “Your wish is our command, Princess.”

Ransom bends to pick up the ring wordlessly, and follows his brother out of your room.

—

They don’t come back that night.

You watch the sky outside the glass wall of your prison turn dark, and then brighten again with stars as you sit huddled against it, hugging your knees to your chest. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your body won’t let you, jerking you back to wakefulness as soon as your eyelids start to droop. The thoughts won’t stop coming either, cycling through on a loop you can’t seem to stop.

I wonder what Nat’s doing.

I wonder if they’re worried about me.

I wonder what Ransom told them.

You want to pinpoint the time your life went off the rails but you can’t, you don’t know it. College, perhaps?

When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

You drag yourself away from the window after a few hours of staring bleakly out at the empty beach. It feels like too much to hope for that someone would happen by, not with the lengths they had clearly taken to secure you. The comforter bleeds feathers as you drag it to the floor beside the bed, wedging yourself between it and the wall. You know you aren’t safe—you’ve little control over that—but the solid press of concrete behind you makes you feel more secure.

It’s what allows you to finally fall asleep, though it is not restful. It feels like you wake every few minutes at every imagined sound, jolting back to consciousness and scanning the still empty room before quickly passing out again. You half expect Lloyd and Ransom to be back, waiting for you to open your eyes but when you finally do, you are still blessedly alone, but for the fresh tray in front of the door.

You wait for a few minutes, just to see if they emerge from your peripheral vision, the places in the room you can’t see from your vantage point—but they don’t. Everything is as it was before, the destruction from your earlier rampage still strewn across the floor. It feels surreal. Slowly, you pick your way across the debris and grasp the tray in your trembling hands. You don’t want to eat it, not really, but your stomach clenches and rumbles at the sight of food as you peek beneath the tray cover.

It isn’t anything special—another sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. You check beneath the styrofoam plate just to be sure, there’s no note, no nothing, and you cannot help but wonder when they’ll be back. They’re messing with your head, you know they are—and you hate that it’s working. You’re rattled, upset, anxious—just how they want you.

The urge comes again to pick up the largest piece of anything you can find and smash it against the window until it breaks.

We made it for you.

Your stomach churns with disgust even as you take a greedy bite out of your sandwich. How hadn’t you seen yourself and your family waltzing right into the palms of their hands? How hadn’t you noticed? Lloyd had always been overly interested, overly gracious, even after you’d rejected him, and started dating his brother. You’re reminded of Linda’s curt smile and her slickly delivered barb. You tore them apart without even thinking about it. And Lloyd’s admission…

It was more than a little crush.

You don’t know how to reconcile the madness simmering behind your husbands eyes with the man who’d held your hands and said his vows. As he’d griped your wrists, staring into your eyes with his own fever-bright, you could barely recognize him.

You clean your plate, washing it down with the water before casting another look around the room. It’s blank, empty beyond the few pieces of furniture you hadn’t been able to destroy. No books, no television—nothing. You search the walls near the door panel, looking for something, anything that might make it open, but you find little. The smooth white keyboard does not respond when you push your thumb against the rubbery buttons, and the seam is so narrow you can barely wedge your fingernails into it to try and pry it open.

For hours you walk the perimeter of the room, running your hands along the walls, feeling no breaks in the smooth, cool surface. You have to get out of here—but you don’t even know where here is. How far you are from the resort, if you’re even on the same island. As the room darkens, you realize you’ve been pacing for hours like a caged animal, and neither Ransom nor Lloyd has come to check on you all day. Somehow, the thought fill you with apprehension. Not knowing when they might appear is unnerving, and you suspect they mean it to be.

You thread your fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you watch the sun sink into the sea, a panicked, claustrophobic feeling rising in your chest until you realize you aren’t breathing. You can’t stay here like this, you can’t—

Before you realize it you’re running for the door, beating your fists wildly against the panel.

“Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!” Your frenzied wailing rings in your own ears. It’s like you’re numb to the pain as you swing with all your might. You’re aware-even if only dimly—of the fact that your fists will be sore and aching later, bruised and beat to a pulp but you don’t care. Not if it gets you out—not if it gets you away from them.

“Ransom! Ransom let me out! You can’t fucking keep me here! You can’t!”

Nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, and there is no answer to your increasingly panicked demands. You scream for hours. Until you’re hoarse, and your trembling fists ache to raise above your shoulders. Still, you bang your open palms against the panel as your firm insistence becomes a stream of nonsense pleas.

“Please, please don’t do this, if you l-loved me y-you wouldn’t do this!” Tears and snot run down your face as you collapse to your knees, exhausted. “Please.” You mumble, curling in on yourself in front of the door. The tears come again, and you don’t even try to stop them, sobbing open-mouthed on the cold tile, your hands fisting in your nightgown.

“Please.”

You lay there until the room goes dark.

—

“I hate seeing her like this.” The cameras are good—too good. He can see the pain on your face too clearly, hear the betrayal in your voice just a bit too well through the speakers.

“You think I like it?” Lloyd asks irritatedly, and Ransom sighs. “She’ll even out soon. If not, you can up the mood stabilizer. She’s cleared for it until the second trimester.” Ransom knows his brother, knows that’s his version of comforting reassurance. “Besides, you’re the one that decided to play keep-away.”

Ransom looks at the camera again, at your softly moving shoulders. He’s both thankful and irritated at the hair covering your pretty face—but at least it blocks the sight of your tears. As he watches, you shudder—like you’re still crying, even in your sleep.

“I know. We have to make her grateful. For us.” He says, still looking at the screen. And he does. He understands the necessity of it—it was his plan, almost more than Lloyd’s. “I still hate it.”

“I don’t anticipate she’ll keep it up more than a week. Two, tops.” For the most part, Ransom has seldom ever found himself envious of his twin, but now he felt his lip curl with irritated jealousy at Lloyd’s confidence. “Don’t worry little brother,” he grins. “Our Princess will love us again.” He turns back to the cameras. “I’m sure of it.”

To be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year

Text

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Part IX/X

Pairing: soft!dark (mostly soft at this point) Alpha stepbrother Ransom Drysdale x innocent!Omega stepsister reader

Summary: Shit hits the fan in the biggest way possible when your father and Linda show up.

Chapter Warnings: A/B/O, explicit language, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, domestic violence, mentions of sexual assault and abortion, abusive relationship, religious trauma, medical setting, 18+ ONLY SERIES!!

A/N: Another fucking doozy, I’m so sorry, you guys! This heavy shit is killing me, but good news is there’s only one more chapter after this one. And just remember, they’re endgame!!!! It’ll all be okay!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Ransom heard the low buzzing of the hospital bustle suddenly get more intense and knew your family must have arrived, scrubbing his hand over his face and shaking his leg with nerves while you squeezed his hand. The way you were looking at him was only making things worse, like he would always be there for you and was the only thing that could make you happy. He had never felt like a bigger piece of shit in his entire life, he almost hoped your father would kill him.

“Yes, thank you so much for all the work you do, God bless you.” Ransom felt every muscle tense up when your father opened the door and kept chatting with the hospital staff, practically groaning when his mother flitted into the room followed by the giant bodyguards that attended your parents wherever they went. “We do so appreciate you letting our family have some privacy during this difficult time. How the hell could you let this happen?”

As soon as the door was closed your father dropped the facade, sneering at Ransom and stomping over to him while he just shook with barely contained rage and kept looking at you. He hated the man.

“You were supposed to look out for her, Ransom.” Linda’s mouth was pursed tight while she too glared at her son, huffing when he refused to turn his attention to either of them and instead kept gazing at you. “Why would you ever let that man anywhere near her?”

“It wasn’t Ransom’s fault.” You were starting to cry again, the desire to lean up and bury your face in Ransom’s chest strong but not enough to overcome the sedative they gave you. “He saved me. Please don’t fight.”

“He introduced that monster to you.” Your father snarled when Ransom continued to ignore him. “The fact that he almost killed that pervert is the only reason I think he didn’t have anything to do with this and I haven’t had him hauled out of here.”

“I want him to stay, daddy.” You tilted your head up to Ransom and choked on a sob when he squeezed your hand. “I need him.”

The door opening cut your father off when he opened his mouth again, his attempt to school his face abandoned once he saw that it was just the family doctor and nurse they had brought with them.

“The doctor here is a little too eager, she did not want to give up her chart. You might need to fill out some paperwork so she doesn’t raise a stink.” The man didn’t even acknowledge you or Ransom, just flipping through your medical records and talking to your father like you didn’t matter. “Wants to send her to therapy too, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“We’ll find a nice Omega pastor for you to talk to, honey.” Linda ignored the way Ransom snarled when she came to stand on your other side and gave your hand a demeaning pat. “These doctors don’t understand what you need. And we’re still going to find you a mate, it will be someone who will treat you sweetly and take care of you.”

“Oh, I don’t…” you swallowed what you were about to say when your father shouldered Ransom away from you after the doctor handed him your records, chewing on your lip as he frowned at you and passed the chart to Linda. “Daddy?”

His backhand caught all of you off guard, Linda catching you when you screamed and almost fell out of the bed while Ransom grabbed your father and shoved him up against the wall with a low growl. He might’ve done more if it wasn’t for those damn bodyguards, thrown to the floor and pinned there before he even knew what was happening and left to watch helplessly while your father grabbed your cheeks and started snarling in your face.

“How much knot have you taken, you little slut?” He was shaking you violently while you started crying, ignoring the increasingly vicious growls that were coming from Ransom as he thrashed to get out of the hold he was in so he could tear the man off you. “Do you have any idea what this is gonna do to me? Were you even raped or did you just make it up when you got caught?”

“Don’t you fucking talk to her like that, you goddamn bastard.” Ransom struggled to get off the floor and groaned when he couldn’t. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Both of you stop, we’re in a public hospital!” Linda hissed at the two of them until they calmed down, storming to the door when someone pounded on it and popping her head out to reassure them. “Everything is fine, there’s just a lot of emotions right now, thank you so much for your concern. You two idiots quit thinking with your fucking knots, Jesus. Let him up. Sweetheart, you need to explain to us how you’re pregnant.”

“I am?” You rubbed your cheek and sniveled while Linda let you lean against her shoulder and patted your hair, looking warily at your father and trying to breathe deeply while tears continued to leak down your cheeks. “But that’s wonderful, Ransom…”

He groaned when you looked at him with watery eyes, feeling your parents’ gazes snapping onto him as he leaned against the wall and tried to avoid looking at anyone else. This was it, he didn’t know why he was surprised that he’d actually managed to get you pregnant since you’d spent your entire shared heat and rut locked together. They were going to kill him.

“You?!?” Ransom pushed your father away when he tried to get in his space, rising to his full height and sneering at the supposedly threatening look on his face. “You little asshole, I can’t believe I trusted you with her, you’re such a fucking pervert. You ruin everything.”

“Daddy, please stop!” You started crying harder when they kept posturing at each other, trying to curl in on yourself and breathing heavily while you felt panic starting to set in. “He was helping me like you wanted, we just fell in love.”

“Like I wanted? What the hell are you talking about?” Your father blinked at you then just growled as he rolled his eyes. “So you’re not just a slut, you’re a damn idiot too.”

“I’m not, why would you say that?” You were sobbing again, longing for Ransom to come hold you instead of his mother. “I was good, I did everything I was told so I could be a good mate…”

“A good mate doesn’t fuck her stepbrother.” He finally turned away from Ransom and back to you and you cowered. “Did he tell you he was helping you? He lied, you moron.”

“No, he didn’t.” You shook your head and refused to look at your father as your chest started heaving with tortured breaths. “You’re lying, why are you lying? Why are you saying these things? Ransom…”

“Bunny…” his heart broke when you looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered, and he didn’t know how he was going to live with himself. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Ransom tried to go to you when you crumpled and started weeping uncontrollably, snarling when your father pushed him back and feeling his chest start to ache as you shook in Linda’s arms. “You said you loved me.”

“I do, I love you so much.” He knew if he could just hold you he could make it alright, but they wouldn’t let him close to you and he felt like he was going to start screaming. “I didn’t want to hurt you, please…”

“You didn’t care what you did, I can’t believe you.” Linda hushed you when you kept bawling, frowning at her son and rubbing your back when you heaved suddenly. “And now we have to take care of your little problem.”

“What do you mean?” You whimpered when Linda ignored you and looked at your father, your eyes flicking between the two of them and your chest getting even tighter. “No…no it’s a baby, my baby. A baby is a blessing, you can’t mean this.”

“Hush, do you have a sedative for her?” Your father nodded when the doctor pulled out a needle, snorting when Ransom tried to charge him and ended up pinned to the wall by his two goons. “We’re not doing this here. Linda, do your best at managing any staff that may have seen her test results so it doesn’t leak to the press. We’re taking you home.”

“No, don’t touch me.” You slapped away the doctor’s hands when he tried to restrain you, looking at Linda and your father pleadingly while she pulled out her phone to talk to one of her team members. “Daddy, please, don’t do this to me.”

“You’re not having this bastard’s pup.” Your father sighed when you pushed the doctor away again, holding your face in his hands and ignoring Ransom’s snarl as he tried to soothe you. “He lied to you, his friend hurt you, he doesn’t care about you. Do you really want to have his baby?”

“I don’t know.” You shuddered and tried to look at Ransom, whining when your father’s hold on your head prevented it and licking your lips as you struggled with yourself. “You said it’s a sin, Daddy. It’s an innocent little baby.”

“We can talk about this at home.” You missed the frustrated tic in your father’s jaw before he kissed your forehead, but Ransom saw it, and it made him try even harder to get out of the grip they had him in. “Don’t you want to go home, peanut? Away from all these strangers?”

“Mmhm.” You were still crying, and you were exhausted, so when the nurse brought you a coat and helped you out of bed you just let her, avoiding Ransom’s eyes and seating yourself in the wheelchair beside your bed. “Home.”

“What do you want us to do with him?” Ransom sneered when one of the bodyguards talked about him to your father like he wasn’t even there, wanting nothing so much as to call out to you when they started rolling you away.

“You.” Your father got right in Ransom’s face and smiled wickedly when he couldn’t do anything except grumble. “If only I could just fucking get rid of you, you little shit. But I can settle for finally getting your mother to cut you off and ruining your life. You come anywhere near my daughter again, though, you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life in a fucking jail cell.”

Ransom just sagged to the floor once they were all gone, running his hands through his hair and groaning at the mess of emotions he could feel rising in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about the broken look on your face when you found out he’d lied, hating himself and trying not to start crying when he considered how badly he’d fucked up.

He’d never felt so absolutely wretched in his entire life. He always knew he was a bastard, but hurting you was maybe the lowest thing he’d ever done. You were so good, and pure, and completely innocent and he’d ruined you for nothing but the chance to pull one over on your parents.

But he’d never hit you. And now he’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, not even be with him.

He might not deserve you, but neither did they.

“Paul.” Ransom charged out of the room and found the detective leaning against the counter and chatting with the doctor who had been so kind to you. “They can’t take her.”

“She went with them, man.” Paul looked uncomfortable at the raw emotion that was written all over Ransom’s face. “I can’t do anything if she went of her own free will.”

“He hit her.” Ransom was desperate, sighing when Paul just gave him a defeated shrug and turning to the doctor. “He hit her, and called her a slut. They’re not gonna get her counseling and force her to have an abortion.”

“I fucking knew it, these goddamn religious assholes.” The doctor turned to Paul and gave him a look that would’ve cut through steel. “We can do a welfare hold or something, she’s a victim of a crime, Diskant, c’mon.”

“I just need a minute to talk to her.” Ransom scrubbed his fingers through his hair when Paul finally nodded. “And witnesses so I don’t kill that fucker.”

Maybe he should’ve been worried by the sheer number of cops and hospital staff that were suddenly swarming the parking lot, but he only saw you. He barely heard Paul telling your parents that no, they couldn’t just run off with a victim of a violent crime before her doctors released her and yes, they could have the number of his supervising officer who would tell them the same thing. All he saw was the doctor and three large Beta nurses arguing with your parents’ medical staff until one of them managed to pull you away from them and started comforting you when you began to mewl quietly.

“Bunny.” Ransom winced when you hissed at him as he knelt in front of you, fighting the urge to hold your hands in his while you cried silent tears. “Bunny, I’m sorry. I lied about my reasons but I didn’t lie about loving you, I promise. And you can hate me and never see me again, but I can’t let you go with them.”

“They’re my family.” You hated everything you were feeling right now, sick at the thought that you had betrayed all of your values for the man in front of you but also wanting nothing more than to bury your face in his neck and let him take you away. “They wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He hit you.” Ransom didn’t have time to be as gentle with you as he would have preferred, not when he heard your father starting to raise his voice as he threatened to sue the police department for impinging on his rights. “Was this the first time?”

You nodded, but you had never seen your father as angry as you had in that hospital room, or heard him say such hateful things that went against everything he had taught you. He had scared you, and it made you sick to your stomach the thought that your father could strike you for any reason.

“He’ll do it again, you know he will. He has expectations you’ll never be able to meet and he’ll take it out on you when you can’t.” He wanted to hold you and never let you go, you looked so small and helpless and the knowledge that you were carrying his pup was sending his hindbrain into overdrive. “He won’t let you keep it, he might say he will, but he and that fucking doctor will cook up some way to sneak you something then pawn you off on the first Alpha they can find who won’t care about how supposedly ‘used’ you are. Look at me, Omega.”

Ransom chuffed softly when you finally brought your eyes back to his, leaning forward until his nose was almost brushing yours and sighing when you placed your hands on his shoulders. Even after everything he had done, you felt safe with him, and only with him. You shouldn’t believe anything that came out of his mouth, but you still wanted him in spite of everything.

“I love you, Omega.” Ransom cupped your face gently and rubbed the tears from your cheek with his thumb, crooning when you purred at his touch. “You don’t have to believe me, I don’t deserve it. But I can’t let you go with them. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, you can keep it, or not. But it’s your choice, bunny, no one else’s. Please don’t let them take you.”

“Ransom…” you felt your bottom lip quiver as you gazed at him, pulling him closer and nuzzling at his cheek until the rest of the world faded away. “I want our pup, I want you, only you, my Alpha.”

It all hit you in the chest at once; how much you needed him, how close it had come to the two of you never seeing each other again, how everyone and everything else seemed terrifying if he wasn’t going to be there with you. Something came over you that was close to panic, the thought of being apart from him painful and crippling and making you keen. You needed to make sure he couldn’t be taken from you, you thought you might die if that ever happened.

“Bunny, what are you doing?” Ransom looked at the nurse who was still holding your wheelchair awkwardly when you started nosing your way down his neck until your lips were pressed against his gland, groaning when you bared your teeth and trying to gauge what your intentions were. “Omega…”

“I want the bond, we need it.” You gazed up at him with watery eyes and he melted, cradling the back of your head and feeling himself start to tear up. “Please, I don’t want them to take me from you, my Alpha.”

“Omegamine.” Ransom nodded at you and rumbled gently when he felt your teeth dig into his gland, a thin trickle of blood running down his throat and the crimson liquid staining your lips when you pulled back to gaze at him with wide blown eyes. “They’ll never take you from me, I swear.”

You buried your hands in his hair and whined when he ducked and sank his teeth into your gland, your body arching towards him and your heart pounding against your ribs as a flood of emotions washed over you. All you could feel was relief and warmth as the bond opened up and your love for Ransom was mirrored back to you, crying when he brought his face back to yours and smashed your lips together with a deep moan.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Your father looked like his head was about to explode when he spotted the two of you, Ransom kissing you gently and letting you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while he turned to snarl at the man. “I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit. Why the fuck aren’t you arresting him? He just bonded her without consent.”

“She consented.” Ransom could’ve kissed the giant nurse he’d wished wasn’t near you just a few moments ago, nodding back at him and stroking your hair while you sniffled at having so much attention on you. “She marked him first, and was adamant that she did not want to go anywhere with you.”

“I’m her father, she doesn’t get a say.” Ransom wanted to rip the man’s heart out when he heard you whimper, he was never going to let that man within fifty feet of you for the rest of your life. “Get her away from him.”

“That’s not how things work anymore.” Paul stepped between your father and Ransom when the man growled viciously, Linda holding your father’s arm and trying to calm him down while the hospital staff began wheeling you back into the hospital while Ransom held your hand. “They’ve got a witness, and the bond takes precedence over whatever shit you’ve got going on. I suggest you go home before the doctor here decides to trespass you.”

The two of you could still hear him screaming once you were inside, but you ignored him, gazing at your mate and relaxing when you felt him sending waves of reassurance and protection through the bond. He did love you, that was all that mattered, your body succumbing to the exhaustion that had been plaguing you once they got you back into a bed and he sat next to you.

“You’re safe, bunny.” Ransom kissed your forehead and chuffed when he saw your breathing grow deep and easy, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb gazing lovingly at you while you finally slept. “And I’ll make sure you stay safe, I promise.”

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rubynationwins · 2 years

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So You Want To Tango? Part 1 (18+)

Stepbro! Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!PlusSize! Reader (Soft!Dark!Ransom)

Summary: All you were trying to do was lose your v-card, was that too much to ask? Apparently so, according to your stepbrother.

Main Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Soft!Dark!Ransom, slight smut-a lot more in future part(s), swearing, ransom being an ass, kinda blackmail, unwanted groping/sexual harassment, choking, manhandling, humiliation, degradation, slut shaming, threats, virgin!reader, angst, mentions of self-deprecation/body issues. 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1,678

A/N: two posts in one day, who am I??? Damn, I’ve been writing a lot of chris evans’ characters being degrading, sexy assholes, but they are so??? I just really wanted to get this one out there bc I’m excited to start on the next part! Not sure how this will develop in terms of how many parts there will be; probably depends on if people are into this storyline ig. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

“Ransom, please!” You scampered after the tall, sweater-clad man as he stormed down the upper hallway. It was obvious where he was heading so you sped up your pace as fear and embarrassment flooded through your veins.

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder as his patronizing reply bounced off the walls back to you. “No, sunshine! You act like a whore-” he swung open the doors of the second floor balcony and stepped into the dim light of the setting sun- “you get treated like a whore.”

You stopped short of the open doors, staring desperately at the bundle of clothing he held in his tight fist. In his other hand, he held your favorite pair of Brian Atwood sneakers. You looked back up at his face and saw his malicious smile. He was enjoying this.

You hesitated at the doorway, covering your bare tits with both arms, you still had on a pair of thin, lacy panties, but that didn’t make you feel any less naked. Shame coursed through your body as Ransom held his arm out, dangling your garments over the railing.

“Ransom, don’t-“

“Uh-uh, sunshine. If you want these back, you’re gonna have to beg.” His eyes gleamed with delight.

Yours brimmed with tears as you stared down at your shoeless feet. “P-please give me my clothes back, Ransom. I need them, I don’t have anything else to wear.” You hung your head low as you forced out the distraught plea. Ransom may have been an ass, but you never thought he’d go this far to humiliate you.

“Well, that was a piss-poor apology,” he scoffed. “Anyway, I think what you’re wearing now is perfect.” He threw one of your shoes over the railing and you leaped forward, reaching out your hands in a fruitless attempt to stop him. You did your best not to think about your now exposed breasts. The shoe squelched as it landed in a muddy puddle on the ground and you let out a muted wail. Before you covered your tits back up, you caught Ransom ogling the bare orbs without shame. He was the real whore.

“Ransom, stop, this isn’t a game! That one’s completely ruined now! At least give me back the other one,” you whined, not caring that you were making such a scene over a pair of shoes. But they weren’t just a pair of shoes, and he knew that.

“What does it matter? You have plenty of shoes, what makes these so special?” He twirled the other one in his hand, goading you. He knew exactly why they mattered– your mom had given them to you before she passed away three years ago, and you treasured anything of hers that hadn’t been tainted by his corrupt family. “If you’d really wanted them back, you would’ve gotten down on your knees and begged for forgiveness. Are you really too proud to apologize?”

Your head was still spinning with how quickly the evening had turned south. How was it that one moment you were about to finally lose your virginity to a guy you barely knew, and then the next, Ransom was busting down the door, throwing his own friend onto the street, and stealing your clothes away? And as what, some kind of punishment?”

“What do you mean ‘apologize’? What do I have to apologize for?”

He flung your other shoe over the edge and you let out a strangled cry of remorse. “You mean you don’t understand the damage your behavior has on my reputation? My own stepsister, fucking one of my sleazeball friends? In my own home? Are you too stupid to not know how your whorish actions reflect back on me? Not only have you proven how much of a cock-slut you are, but also how much empty space you’ve got in that pretty little head of yours.”

Now tears were streaming down your face. Your whole body quaked with barely contained fury, fueled by your hatred for your stepbrother. All you could do was put up an angry front to hide how much his criticism stung. “Jesus Christ! I was just trying to lose my fucking v-card! Which has nothing to do with you, by the way, but you had to be your usual narcissistic, selfish, unreasonably-controlling, hot-headed self! You’ve slept with too many women to count, and you’re gonna slut shame me?! You’re a fucking hypocrite, Ransom!”

Ransom’s face clouded with rage, but there were more emotions than that swirling in his shadowed expression. He stepped away from the ledge and tossed your clothes at your feet. Before you could crouch down to scoop them up, though, he reached forward and snatched up your jaw, holding you in place.

“First thing, sunshine, if you ever use that tone with me again, I will throw you out on the street, naked and hogtied.” You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine at his threat. “Second, I don’t give a rat’s ass about how many women I’ve slept with because you are not them and you are certainly not me, so your actions actually have consequences in this male-dominated world, which you should know by now.”

His grip on your chin loosened and he reached his other arm around you and squeezed your plentiful ass. You squeaked but didn’t dare say anything in protest. You were terrified of his famously volatile temper. You knew just how cruel Ransom could be, and it went far beyond throwing some clothes off a balcony.

“Third thing, don’t give me that shitty, faux innocence game. We both know this ass has been around the block plenty. You’ve always taken after your mother.” At that, he narrowed his eyes and gave your ass a sharp slap. You yelped and tried to jump away, but he dug his hand in, kneading the plump flesh, keeping you close to his towering form.

You wanted to slap him and wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. How dare he talk about your mother that way, but part of you was distracted by how terribly good his fondling felt. On top of being a virgin in your twenties, you had next to none sexual experience of any kind. Unbidden by you, your body was reacting to the unfamiliar forceful touch. Especially when it came from Ransom of all people. He sent your blood boiling– both from his asshole behavior and from the electric tension you’d always felt in his presence.

You matched his gaze, hoping your watery glare hid the beat of your heat thrumming through your chest. “It’s not a lie, Ransom,” you noticed the sudden tick in his jaw at your words, but went on, “I’ve been sheltered my whole life– I went to a fucking all-girls Catholic school for christ’s sake. Plus, my social skills are shit, so my college life is far from the playboy, party lifestyle you like to maintain. It also doesn’t help that I have stretch marks and cellulite, while all the other girls I’m surrounded by are stick-thin and look like models. So excuse me for taking advantage of an opportunity to finally hook up with a ready and willing guy. But no! Respect for my boundaries doesn’t apply to the almighty Ransom Drysdale! Protector of my virginity, guardian of my love life! You know what, it was a mistake to try and fuck Tod here, guess I’ll just have to go over to his place to get the deed done. Then I can save us all the embarrassment.”

The hand gripping your jaw jumped to your neck and squeezed, his thick fingers pressing into the sides of your throat. He leaned closer, rage shimmering in his eyes. “I would rather lock you up in the basement and let you rot, then let that dick lay one fucking finger on you.”

His grip stayed tight around your neck and he closed the distance, pressing his front flush to yours. You tried to exclaim when you felt something poking at your nether regions, but any sound you attempted to make was shot down by his tight fist constricting your airways. Ransom’s lips hovered a hair’s breadth away from yours, his hot breath mingling with your own gasping pants.

“I get it though, when you get to be your age without having a dick shoved up your needy little hole, you open your legs up to whatever comes your way.” He ground his hips into yours. You felt lightheaded from the lack of air and the blood rushing to your barely concealed center. “So, if you want to learn how to do the devil’s tango-” he finally released his grip on your throat, but before you could gulp down a breath of air, he tangled his hand in your hair and crashed his lips into yours.

It wasn’t even a kiss–not that you’d had many–it was teeth gnashing and tongues fighting and animalistic grunts and growls of long-hidden wants and forbidden pleasure. He pulled away with a satisfied groan. His lust-filled eyes looked crazed. He pushed on your ass to grind you against him further. You couldn’t hold back your moan when he rubbed against your clothed core. You were completely shocked and ashamed at your guttural reaction.

His pleased smirk spelled trouble and he leaned down again, his breath brushing your sensitive ear, and growled, “-then I’ll be happy to teach you how to dance like the slut you were always meant to be-” You mewled when he reached down and cupped your pussy, smashing his palm against your clit- “and show you who really owns this cunt: me.”

He patted your cheek and backed away, his eyes devouring every exposed curve and roll on full display for his pleasure. He palmed his cock over his designer slacks and winked. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.” His eyes shone with devious excitement. “Now put some clothes on. You look like a hooker.” With that, he sauntered past you, leaving you to sink in your own pit of disgust and guilt… and anticipation.

#ransom drysdale #stepbro!ransom drysdale #soft!dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x plus size reader #stepbro!ransom drysdale x reader #virgin!reader #soft!dark!ransom drysdale x plus size reader #ransom drysdale smut #plus size reader #plus size reader insert #chris evans character fanfic #chris evans #chris evans x plus size reader #Knives Out #ransom knives out #writing stuff #me #rubynationwins

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qwimchii · 7 months

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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 4) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 12𝘬

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘴 & 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 😞

note: oml. i cannot thank you guys enough for your patient. this took me a lot longer than i thought it would (i've been writing the whole day LMFAO). your patience and support has been literally amazing and i love each and every one of you. thank you so much 😭💐💞 please enjoy <33

you gasped, scrambling back into the bed.

the girl just stood there. stock still. like a ghost. eyes so shadowed in the darkness that they looked like two black pits staring at you.

your heart beat out of your chest, blood thickening to a slow gurgle, as you reached slowly for something solid on the nightstand. you made contact with the glass cup.

you were surprised by the amount of force in your voice. “are you here to kill me?”

she just stared, unblinking.

a roiling turmoil of heat built right in your chest, and you snapped, “are you one of Turner’s men?”

she scoffed, and it only added to the flame of your ire, before you heard the soft click of her gun cocking.

“no,” she said, defiant, turning her chin up at you. “but you do have a nice ransom on your head.”

her head tilted, taking you in with a dark look that raked across your body. “and i recognized that man you were with. Ghost, is it?”

oh.

your eyes narrowed. “how do you know him?”

the better question was how did she recognize him?

your heart sank.

“i’ve done business with him,” she said cooly, and your heart just sank further.

it made sense now. why she was standing at the door, her attention trained on Ghost, marching away when the other man told her to leave. she was expecting a customer.

maybe even a regular one.

then, she frowned at you. “not in ways that you are thinking.”

curling relief soared in your chest, and a weight lifted from your shoulders as you released a shaky breath.

she threw down the gun onto the floor and it skidded across the wooden floorboards, hitting the post of the bed with a thunk. mind clouded with confusion, you looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

she straightened her shoulders. “i’m here to save you.”

you blinked. save you?

“save me?” you squeaked, and her face twitched with annoyance.

“yes,” she said, striding forward to the bed, “we have to hurry. come.”

you scurried further back into the bed, yelping when you almost fell off the side.

she stopped in her tracks, watching you struggle in the sheets with flushed cheeks. quickly, you drew the yellow robe that was discarded on the floor around your body, hoping she didn’t see anything in the dark, and turned to her again, fumbling with the knot of it.

you were still holding the glass cup.

she looked down to it in your hands and then back up, mouth in twisted line.

embarrassed, you put the cup behind you on the nightstand.

“your father?” she chewed out slowly, “he has a ransom. he wants you alive.”

“what?”

“your father. he wants you—”

a thick cloud of confusion settled in your furrowed brow, and you shot out, “i thought Turner wanted me dead.”

the girl gave you a long look, face twisted and hands clenched into the fabric of her dress. “he does. your father doesn’t.”

your mouth fell open, tongue heavy, then closed again.

“are they not working together?” there was a little flicker of hope deep within yourself.

“they are,” she said with raised brows, “they are working to come to an agreement over you.”

your stomach twisted. you felt like puking.

you flattened yourself against the far wall of the room to stop the nauseating swirls of dizziness racking your mind, creating a marginal distance from the girl who loomed with a veil of impatience over her face, hands clenched by her sides and shoulders braced. a roil of fear boiled in you.

“you can’t take me,” you whispered, voice weak and trampled.

her frown deepened. “you want to stay with Ghost?”

“i am waiting for him,” you said carefully, and the girl scoffed, turning on her heel.

“do you think he will come back?”

your throat felt closed up. “what?”

“do you think he will come back?” she asked again, slowly, like you couldn’t understand her words. she pointed towards the low table in the room—there was a drawstring pouch you didn’t notice before.

“he left that for you at the front desk before he left. i came in to deliver it,” she explained, and you followed her line of sight to the gun at the foot of the bed.

ah. she came in to deliver them as well as threaten you. or save you, in her words. maybe both.

your eyes narrowed. “what are you saying?”

in the darkness of the room, you could see her roll her eyes.

“he left you money and that revolver.”

your head swirled, a pulsing headache building right in the base of your forehead. he left you these items—why? to protect yourself?

he said the brothel was safe.

a sour taste filled your mouth. why would you need to protect yourself if it was safe?

unless you left the brothel.

you fought the droop of your head with a sharp twinge of your heart, deflating from the inside out.

“he wasn’t planning on coming back,” she gritted out, sounding more impatient than anything.

“you don’t know that,” you snapped, “it’s not dawn yet. he promised me he’d be back by dawn.”

she grew very still. “why do you want to stay with him? has he not been using you for…?”

her eyes roamed down the revealing nature of your robe, then flitted back up to your eyes. her face was stoney cold. serious.

you stiffened. Ghost had promised you he would never bed you again for revenge. had he been telling the truth? you didn’t know.

“i don’t know.”

she scoffed again, muttering under her breath, “she doesn’t know,” and turning away, rubbing over her face.

you swallowed down the growing swollen tightness in your throat, a familiar burn building at the waterline of your eyes. “you don’t understand. if you give me to my daddy…”

she turned back to you and your voice faltered. “i don’t want to be a mistress.”

her stoney face crumpled, eyes narrowed with unease, but you pressed on, “my daddy. he owns a saloon chain and made a business deal with Turner—investment and protection.”

your voice dimmed, quiet and low. “i was part of that deal. my daddy was going to give me to Turner as his mistress.”

the girl was silent, stark still in the darkness, mulling over something in her swirling eyes.

“alright.”

your eyes snapped to her. “alright?”

“i don’t work for Turner. i don’t work for your father. i don’t work for anybody but myself,” she said.

you nodded slowly, trying to digest that, searching her eyes for a twisted lie, but only finding a blank stoney void and truth. instead, you asked, “what about Ghost?”

she paused for a moment, looking apprehensive, before explaining, “when Ghost was younger, and when the law used to be trouble for him, he would hide here in this brothel. he paid for my services for a week but didn’t touch me once. he wanted something else.”

something else? you thought, hands growing clammy and cold.

she turned her head from you. “he wanted my secrets. powerful people tell me too much in the midst of an intimate night. now, i recognize Ghost’s gesture for what it was. he was not being kind to me like i believed him to be.”

her voice was eerily void. “he wanted to use me.”

then, she said, “i was sold by my father for fifty american dollars.”

you flinched. it made you wonder how much Turner had promised your daddy in exchange for you.

her stare was glazed over, dark and unnatural. you suppressed a shiver and listened to what she had to say, clutching at the wall tighter when she slowly stepped forward towards you.

“i know what it is like to want to be useful. i, too, once believed that it was necessary for my father to sell me to feed my brothers. i told myself that the entire way by ship from china. then, i told myself that helping Ghost would give me purpose.”

her voice was stronger, and she drew so near you could see the swirling pattern of her crimson dress. “now, i am not of use to anyone except for myself. i worked hard to get here. this is one of the kindest and most well-paying brothels in the city. most girls only last for five years after being sold into prostitution.”

her words were icy cold. “i worked hard to survive.”

“i’m…” your voice failed in your choked up throat, pangs of heaviness breaking your heart apart. you wanted to apologize but that didn’t feel like enough.

she pinned you with a hard look. “i do not want your pity.”

you slowly sunk down the wall, till your backside hit the cold, hard floor, and you wrapped your arms around your knees. all your problems felt dwarfed in front of this girl, but you still shook with fear.

“i won’t go back to my daddy,” you whispered, words trembling, but defiant nonetheless.

she got on her knees, creeping towards you till she leaned against the wall in the spot beside you. the proximity of her body felt warm in the crisp morning of the room.

she was insistent, expression fierce and strong. “i will not give you over to him for money. ”

your eyes snapped to hers, and her hand slid over the floor into the space between you.

desperate, you searched for the right words but couldn’t find them. “thank you.”

you took up her hand, and she squeezed yours with a strength that shocked you for her thin, petite frame.

“i will help you,” she insisted, and a curl of despair wrung your chest.

“you cannot help me, miss,” you said weakly, truthfully, “i need to wait for Ghost.”

she made a noise of deep frustration. “you do not.”

you closed your eyes, nose buried into your knees. “i have to.”

you felt her draw your hand into her lap, holding onto it with a powerful grasp. “he will not return. i prayed many nights for him to return too. but still, i will wait with you.”

the certainty in her tone felt soul crushing, and a truth from her own experience, but the tightness of her grip was an anchor that held you through the nauseating, racks of unease that pulled you like a tide.

you waited for the sun to peek up through the far windows of the room, overlooking a dip in the city that revealed a stretch of chinatown twinkling in the early, blue hours with loud ruckus, shouts, and clatters.

when the first bruised pinks and purples stretched the morning sky, and beams of orange had cast over your body, your head perking up as you squinting into its glare from over your knees, Ghost had still not come.

you moved through the city like a ghost—like nothing was anchoring you down to the ground except for the girl’s iron grip on your hand. she had almost never let go of you when you roused from your light slumber, letting her drag you from the room, pocketing Ghost’s money and his revolver.

you left behind your shattered heart in that room. you felt like you died in that room.

the girl had forced you into one of her few western-style, yet airy, dresses that still felt too revealing from the wardrobe of her small room in the upper floors of the brothel. but nobody stared at you as she pulled you down another avenue through chinatown, considerably cleaner and better groomed than the ones you had been on before.

you did not know where you were going—you weren’t sure if you cared. the girl had only said with a determined ferocity, i will help you, when Ghost had not come.

Ghost had not come.

it was like a splintering realization every moment.

she hauled you into the back of a busy shop, barely squeezing through the small frame of the door, opening it to a whirlwind of more women shouting in mandarin and bent over desks strewn with cloths, silks, garments, and clunky sewing machines that packed in the room. that same sweet smoke tinged the room and you resisted pinching your nose against the searing smell.

an older woman with grayed hair and a wrinkled face like a plum stepped into the girl’s path, shouting something at her, though not unkindly, to which the girl shouted back. the old woman stepped back with a nod, and you curled closer to the girl as many of the women in the room turned from their stations to stare as you passed before busying themselves once more.

the girl took you into the front store room, marginally more quiet than in the back, and adorned with a plush red carpet and racks of colorful clothing where some wealthy women perused.

then, she pulled you towards a raised platform in the corner of the room, where a red curtain hung by it and pushed you onto it. you stepped up, feeling uncomfortably light without her hand around yours, and she tugged the curtain around the platform without a word and a stricken face, shrouding the rest of the room from view.

you stood there for a moment, clutching against the wall and listening to the faint screeches of hangers dragging across their racks, light footsteps, and the bustle of the city from outside the store.

you jolted when she yanked open the curtain and quickly jerked it close behind her once more.

her face looked more serious than before—face screwed up in a tight expression and deep frown. you bit back a gasp when her arms flew to your shoulders and tugged her towards her, almost falling off the platform.

“listen to me,” she grit out with a clenched jaw, and you nodded quickly. “i cannot help you for long. tell me, what do you want?”

what do you want?

the question ran bated circles around your mind.

in a panic, you choked out, “i don’t know.”

she looked disappointed, but her grip on your shoulders only tightened, and you winced from the painful pulse in your injured joints. “you need to decide. now.”

she pressed something hard and cool into your hand and you looked down at the revolver in your open palm. the steel of it was engraved with trumpet vines.

you were reminded of several nights ago—when Ghost had first asked you the question.

“what do you want?” his hand moved to stroke at your cheek, your brow, your hair.

you never had the luxury of pondering the question. your path was always laid out before you by your mama and daddy. there was no choice. only lingering, bitter feelings of resentment as you fought yourself to believe that tending Daddy’s saloon and entertaining businessmen was the life you wanted.

“i dont know.”

“tell me.”

you had said you wanted him. now, you weren’t sure.

what did you want?

you looked into the dark swirl of the girl’s intense gaze, the inky hair that went down her shoulders in unfurling waves. did you want independence like her?

instead you asked, “why are you helping me?”

her face flitted with a tenseness but she held fast, unmoving and unshaken.

you pressed on, “what about the money? don’t you want the ransom?”

you felt eerily calm despite what you were alluding towards—her selling away your last flickers of freedom.

she shook her head. “i will not use you like my father used me.”

you stared at her. maybe, for the first time in your life, you’d met someone who didn’t want to use you for an advantage. maybe this girl was lying and would lead you straight into your daddy’s embrace again, and once your daddy smoothed everything out with Turner, you’d be in Turner’s bed every other night, satiating an old man with the warmth of your youthful touch.

or maybe, she was telling the truth.

“i don’t believe you,” you said, voice soft, and her grip slackened.

“you have to. tell me what you want.” she reached into the neckline of her shirt, and pulled something from her undergarments, revealing the drawstring pouch of the money Ghost left you.

she pushed it into your hand with the gun and closed your fingers around the heaviness of it, the clink of coins and rustles of paper feeling too loud in your ears, your mind swirling with effort.

you mulled over everything for the past week—only just seven days total. when you had met Ghost, one-four-one, their outlawed antics, los vaqueros. Kate’s expression when she left you at your train door, when you had challenged her about the truth of their revenge ploy, when you had escaped on horseback from the leather crafts shop.

the fullness of her eyes. the sadness of them.

you thought of john when he had an arm circled around your waist as he galloped on that chestnut through the small town, saving your life, and the blinding rush when you turned over your shoulder and shot that man gunning for John. you saved his life in return.

you thought of Soap’s kindness in the hallway of the train, the thick swell of his accent, the delight that bloomed across his face whenever he saw you. the vicious sober look that twisted his smile when he promised to get revenge on Turner.

you thought of Gaz and his proposal, the origin of his poor childhood that he had disclosed in hushed murmurs, and the warmth of his polite touch grasping your hand and pressing it to his chest. the youthful earnest in his face.

you thought of your daddy and your mama—preparing you for a life that you had never chosen. Turner’s mistress.

you didn’t know who to hate more.

you thought of Ghost.

maybe you should hate him.

your skin prickled in remembrance of his soft, warm lips, and gentle touch, the way he held you, his even softer words, his empty promises. the perfect lies he created with a smug look and twinkle in his dark eyes, more charming than his infamous reputation led you to believe.

more charming, terrifying, mysterious, and guarded than you had ever seen in a man.

he lied to you time and time again. you closed your eyes against the weight that dragged your entire body down—so heavy it was like it never wanted you to stand properly again.

the girl’s tight grip steadied you.

“i want to be wanted,” you said weakly, eyes fluttering open again to see the grim look on her face.

her jaw was clenched tight. “i did too. but that is not an option.”

your whole heart shattered all over again.

“i want…” you mind spiraled, “i want revenge.”

the smile that twitched into her lips was malicious.

“against who?”

you felt like you were floating. “Turner.”

your voice darkened. “my daddy.”

she nodded, a pleasant look on her face now. “good. i will help you.”

before she stepped away and off the platform, you shoved the pouch of money back into her arms.

when she shook her head to refuse, you pressed, tone cutting and vicious, “take it. or take me as a ransom so help me god.”

when she realized you would refuse to let her go uncompensated, either from the harsh tone of your voice, your words, or the twisted tightness in your face, she relented, and disappeared from the changing room again.

you steadied your breath, looking into the full-length mirror hung on the wall.

you didn’t look like the girl you were a week ago.

you were different now—sinful, vengeant, a murderer.

you thought that it suited you better.

the girl came back and took you to a different area of the store: through the compact kitchen, where she fed you something greasy, savory, and foreign that you consumed in mere bites, then you swallowed down a steaming cup of tea, and she helped wash in a tub.

rubbing and lathing up soap through your hair as you scrubbed down your body. she was unashamed of your bare state, and the newfound rush that boiled in your veins left you uncaring for it.

after you dried off, she took you to the upper floors of the store to a bedroom—the old woman’s, you recognized later on, when the elder woman brought in several elaborate dresses with a wry smile on her face. the bedroom smelled herbal and picante, you noticed, as you were stripped of your clothes again and redressed in the undergarments the girl lent you.

the old woman said something to you—pleasant with a bellow of laughter—before she trudged out the room with heavy steps.

when you looked at the girl in confusion, the only thing she offered was, “she was very happy the day her husband died. she hopes you can find that same happiness.”

whether it was an ominous omen, or a cruel joke, you couldn’t shake it as she laid out a pale evening gown of silk with patterned lilac flowers up the front. your breath hitched as you smoothed a hand over it, the beads adorning its hems, and the lace gathered along its short puff sleeves.

“i think it would suit you,” the girl said, face lax and fond as she picked it up from the bed and pressed it into your hands.

“how could i accept this?” you asked weakly, and she held up the drawstring pouch, jingling its contents lightly in your face, though not unkindly.

“i know my worth,” the girl said with a deadpanned simplicity that made you smile at the sheer absurdity of it all.

she helped you slide on the dress, over your corset and drawers, and sat you down at the chipped vanity by the windows where the natural light of mid-day came streaming through that aided you as she drew up your hair into a loose updo.

you used the powder, eyeshadow, and rogue on the vanity and painted your lips with a careful hand. the girl’s hand came to rest on your exposed nape, and you shivered, not used to the exposed air along your bare arms, neck, and chest due to the low bust of the dress.

the girl placed the revolver on the vanity beside you and you pocketed it through the slit-opening between the layer of your petticoat and dress.

you looked into the mirror of the vanity and the girl’s reflection stared back, expression placid and cool, easing your own nerves.

she said with confidence, “you look lovely.”

you winced at the word, grateful that it went unnoticed to her.

she continued, “tonight, when you reach Turner’s party, there will be violence and bloodshed.”

she slid a box of matches onto the vanity. “wreak havoc. he has run these streets for far too long.”

you pocketed the box with a nod, the box knocking against your revolver, watching her head tilt in the mirror.

“maybe one-four-one will run these streets in time.” a smile flashed across her face before it was gone. “i think things would become better.”

you reached back to grasp at her hand on your neck. “i will make sure you are better compensated when it happens.”

she blinked, eyes flickering with a curiosity. “you will work with one-four-one even after all they have done to you?”

with a sigh, you nodded. “they are all i know. i care too much for them.”

“and Ghost?”

you released her hand, looked away from the mirror, and trained your eyes on the bustling street through the window. “him included.”

you heard her shift behind you. “i cared for him once too. i hope it ends happier for you than it did for me. maybe in marriage.”

you grimaced. “you think i should marry him?”

she was silent for so long that you looked back at her from over your shoulder. she sat with an impeccable posture and a sad tightness in her expression.

“he has used you. he has hurt you. maybe he did not come this dawn to protect you. from Turner and from himself. although he has failed time and time again, maybe his intentions are with a good heart.”

good heart. you didn’t know if you could use those words to describe him.

“albeit, he did not know i would betray him like this. i stole his lover away,” she said with a mischievous look and an air of accomplishment that made you smile.

“are you not worried that one-four-one will punish you for it?”

she only shrugged. “what will they do to me? with this money—” she held up the drawstring, “—i will run away and buy property to live off myself. or i will marry a rich, powerful old man and wait until he dies like the old woman did.”

you laughed at that, remembering the pleasant look on the old woman’s face as she left the bedroom, full of delight and fondness at the memory of her own husband’s death. maybe, you could imagine yourself running a successful clothing boutique like this.

the image soured. you realized you could much better imagine the girl maintaining her own business rather than you.

you could better imagine yourself married with children—their blonde heads bobbing and dark brown eyes twinkling with delight. your chest deflated with a heavy weight.

she pulled you from your thoughts, a new stoicism to her face. “whatever you do with Simon, make sure you use him twice as much as he used you.”

you flinched at the proposition, but her resolve was like steel. you knew she meant it from the way she pinned up the last of your hair with steadied hands and a wall of iron over her elegant features.

for the rest of the afternoon, you stayed up in that bedroom, exchanging stories of your girlhoods. how you grew up in a small town embedded in the dusty, desert west, manning saloon bars and entertaining your daddy’s business partners. the girl told you about her childhood in china, the impoverished peoples in her town, and the ships that came to the nearby big city port that offered families sell off their young girls for services in america.

you had never been impoverished and you had never gone hungry. you listened with horror to the way she described the malnutrition in her town—the way her ribs hung over her sunken stomach, and the cavernous hunger that felt like shooting pains all over her body.

you were surprised when she was so stricken by the way you described the neglectful nature of your daddy and mama that you used to see as a different avenue of affection unique to your own family. she described her tight-knit relationship to her mother, how there was no veil of secrecy between them, only a flow of transparency unlike her and her father.

then, she described her first years in america. how she was starving more than ever with almost no pay, manipulating the managers of each brothel to transfer her, running from establishment to establishment until she found the wealthy brothel chain associated with one-four-one where she met Ghost.

she described him when he was younger—“bearing a quiet, devouring hunger for power,” she had said with such simplicity it almost made you grimace. he was brash and rash fighting the law until he bribed them out of it, she explained, growing his influence through the west through bigger investments and bigger bribes.

she admitted that in her naivety, she had seen his indifference to her as a kindness, and fell in love. she waited earnestly for months until his next return when he would give her a large sum and she would spill all her secrets of illegal business syndicates reinforced by politics within the largest western hub for organized crime—san francisco.

they would mule over long nights together, piecing together motives, crimes, big players, moving pieces, in a never-ending chess game of control over the western frontier between gangs. he had trusted her all with it.

“and i never betrayed him till now,” she reminded you with a wink. “i wonder what he would do if he knew i was leading his little lamb right into the lion’s den…”

you didn’t want to know the dark thoughts that churned in her head as you watched her ponder in silence, a hand to her chin.

soon, she was drawing a shawl over your shoulders and leading you down the steps of the shop, passing through that crowded room where the seamstresses worked, shouted, and trained their attention to you with a curiosity for mere moments before they looked down at the fabrics between their hands again.

you only saw a flash of the old woman’s dark smile, an impish look in her eyes, before she was turning away and disappearing into the fray.

the girl led you out of the shop and into the street where a horse and buggy waited with a coachman at its head. it was the manager of the brothel. he grinned at you, sinister and eerie, gold tooth flashing.

when you faltered, she explained easily, “i organized it for your arrival at the party. it needs to look convincing.”

she helped you up into the carriage and you slid into it, smoothing over your dress and tugging at the shawl to keep any of your exposed skin from showing in the light of the early evening. she handed you a pair of white gloves that you slipped on and then a pearl white mask with light purple feathers.

“you have done too much for me,” you said, feeling guilty as you peered down into her face, but she shook her head.

“i told you i would help you. i have. now, you owe a debt to me,” she said, voice low and laced with threat. you suppressed a shiver but nodded eagerly nonetheless.

“i thought i was saving you from one-four-one. then, i thought i was saving you from your father. mostly, i’m saving you from yourself,” she mused, and you felt stumped as you pat your knee with a softness.

“what do you mean?” you asked with a furrowed brow, jolting when she closed the door of the carriage in your face.

you heard the coachman hitch the horses with a shout, and the carriage began meandering slowly up the road.

you hung out the window with a panicked alarm, but she only grinned at you.

“we are the same in many ways, sister!” she shouted over the clop of hooves and the wheels churning over stone as the carriage pulled away.

sister. you had never had one of those.

“what is your name?” you called, and she shouted back, “Yue-Yi!”

the big grin on your face made your cheeks ache as Yue-Yi waved, wishing you could say so much more as she grew smaller and smaller in the distance, a shorter figure joining her by the sidewalk to wave goodbye. when you squinted your eyes, you could make out the frizzy grayed hair of the old woman.

turning back into your seat in the carriage, you tied the mask onto your face and steeled your nerves, grasping the revolver and matches through the layers of your gown with a eerie calm that settled over you like a thick veil.

as you neared Turner’s estate, more carriages coalesced into a line, queuing up to its large, sprawling and trim lawn, adorned with hedges and fountains that twinkled in the low light of the evening.

you craned your neck out the carriage window to get a glimpse of the sheer architecture of the residency—massive and victorian, with pointed roofs and limestone carvings. you had always thought your home was impressive in your small town but this mansion dwarfed it.

the carriage lurched to a stop, horses whinnying with a stomp. you waited with bated breath in front of the great, arched entrance of the place, listening to the coachman walk over to the door of the carriage and open it, offering a polite hand.

you took it, ignoring his gold-toothed smile and tossed your shawl back into the carriage quite rudely. with the new exposure of your skin, and the growth of his grin, you jerked your hand back from his and gave him a rushed thanks.

but before you made your way up the steps to the elegant entrance, lined with guardsmen in black three-piece suits and fashionable bowler hats, where more guests lingered for admission in fancy attire, you turned back to the manager of the brothel, puffing up your chest with a new confidence.

“you,” you snapped. his brows rose in reply, sly smirk only growing more, much to your discontent.

“yes?” he said, stepping forward. you stepped back.

“Yue-Yi is one of your best workers, no?”

his mouth open and closed before nodding, that greasy smile never leaving his lips.

“you should increase her pay,” you said, impressed by the cool indifference of your own manner.

turning on your heel, you spoke over your shoulder, “or else she might find better avenues of self-employment.”

he paled slightly at that, smirk dropping from his face, and you smiled sweetly, making your way up the steps before remembering yourself. you turned back to him and his pale, stiff disposition before curtsying with the most properness your mother had ever taught you, then continued your ascent to the doors.

you didn’t look back to see if he still lingered with that dumb, pale look on his face. the very thought made you grin bigger.

the line slowly trickled through the entrance as the guardsmen checked names off a list. a new nervous fervor built in you. looking around the lines, and at women and men who lingered together in their own parties, you sidled closer to a loud, unsuspecting woman and her two other female friends, all donned in light yellows and dark magentas and fanning themselves.

when you were just steps from the entrance, the women gave the guards their names, and you craned your neck to see the interior of the residency. lavish, loud, overly decorated in golds and marbles. nothing you would expect less from the old, obnoxious Turner.

“good evening, miss,” one guardsman said, and you jolted from your thoughts, eyes snapping to his. he tilted his head. “your name?”

“i…” you felt stupid, mouth opening and closing, not sure of what to do when—

you crept closer to him, hoping it went unnoticed to the distracted parties around you, and his brows rose slightly, a strange look crossing his face.

you snuck a gloved hand onto his arm, his gaze lingered at your touch, to the exposed skin of your low-cut dress, neck, then your eyes. you cocked your head, sliding your hand up his arm.

“mary smith,” you lied with an ease, and he nodded dumbly, looking through the list. you knew that he wouldn’t find that name and he knew it too.

he cleared his throat, shifting under your touch. “no chaperone, miss?”

you wanted to curse yourself. you had become so accustomed to running off through the west without a chaperone that you had completely forgotten an unmarried, young lady needed one at all.

“maybe you could suffice, sir,” you whispered with a light giggle, and watched with amazement as a slow pink flush crept up into his ears and cheeks.

he cleared his throat again, gesturing to the entrance and avoiding your eyes, “i’m sure our boss wouldn’t mind one extra, lovely young lady.”

you smiled at that, sliding your hand very lightly across his chest as you glided past him, biting back a snort at the way he stiffened under your touch.

crossing the threshold, you stepped into the grand entrance hallway filled with people and you almost melted with relief. making an effort to get lost in the crowd, you snaked in between bodies and conversing groups, their faces adorned with feathered masks and glasses of wine between their gloved fingers.

gliding through the rooms of the residency, you wondered how you would ever find your daddy or Turner in this mess. you stiffened at the thought of crossing paths with one-four-one by mistake.

wringing your hands nervously as your head whipped around between the loud, noisy surroundings, you realized for the first time how utterly alone you were in this mansion.

hundreds of people may have been stuffed into the place, but you were the sole person on this mission, and whether one-four-one had shown up to this party or not, you were the sole person who knew your own plans to kill the party host and turn tail.

with his death, hopefully, you could carve a good chunk of your daddy’s money out of his business. you quieted any alarming thoughts about your mama.

a large drone of partygoers began moving slowly towards the opposite side of the room, and you followed the crowd into the main family room that dwarfed the houses of your small town. looking up into the curve of the ceiling adorned with paintings, a large chandelier hung down into the cavernous room littered with tables of food and colorful banisters.

at the head of the room, near a fireplace, a man stood in a crisp black suit and bow-tie with a curling black mustache and greased black hair flecked with grays on a platform. Turner.

you hadn’t seen his beady, blue eyes and grim, twisted face since dinner with him, your daddy, and mama since months ago along with that haughty wife of his, who stood proud and arrogant by his shoulder.

your mouth soured at the sight of them and you felt around the skirt of your dress, feeling the handle of your gun through the layers.

if you shot him now, could you run away in time? and if they caught you, what would happen?

Turner took a glass cup and clinked a spoon against it, grabbing the room’s attention as it diminished into a silence.

you grasped the gun tighter between your hands.

“thank you for coming,” he said, low, rumbly voice ringing out over the crowd. “we are here today—” he reached back and you watched with amazement as a little girl stepped up onto the platform, grasping onto his hand with a shy, meek look, “—to celebrate my daughter’s birthday.”

your stomach curled at his words, grip going slack against your dress.

if you had shot him right there and then, in the midst of this swarming crowd, maybe you could’ve slipped away easily in the scrambling panic of the crowd. but he would’ve dropped dead, blood oozing from his in a dark puddle, right in front of his own daughter.

the thought made you feel nauseous.

the tall, broad frame that creeped up beside you startled you with a jolt, and you looked up to find an incredibly tall and massive body of a ginger man with a black mask tied around his face. he had his hands behind his back, looking lax with an arrogant smirk on his face. he peered down at you from his shoulder.

“hello there,” he said quietly, under the words that Turner continued to bellow to the crowd. his accent was foreign. maybe german.

“this is an interesting party, no? with masks and such,” he gestured to the crowd, and you struggled to find words.

“i guess,” you croaked, voice scratchy and thick. his smirk only widened.

“what are you doing in this big crowd without a chaperone, little lady?”

you wanted to shrink away from him at that moment, feeling awkward and exposed under the burn of his gaze.

“i have business to conduct.”

he laughed loud and throaty, earning a few hostile glances from the people around you, and you winced, trying to step away and disappear into the crowd but his big hand came to rest on your shoulder and you went impossibly stiff.

“i do, too, little lady.”

he bent down closer to your ear and you shivered. “how do you know, Turner?”

your mouth opened and closed.

“family connections.”

his eyes widened beneath the mask—the color an exotic pale green that you had never seen before.

“really?” he shifted closer to you and you tugged at his grip on your shoulder, trying to move away but the strength of his massive body easily overpowered your own.

“can i tell you a secret, little lady?”

you shook your head with a strong, “no,” but he continued you anyways.

“i know you have a gun in that pocket.”

you went impossibly rigid, breath catching in your throat and he chuckled lowly in your ear.

“i don’t know who’s paying you, but they’re incredibly clever, hiring an innocent-looking little lady like you. you almost fooled me.”

you grit out through a clenched jaw, “and just who are you, sir?”

he released you with an, “ah, my apologies, i need to remember my manners.”

you turned to him, craning your head up to look up into his face, shoulders set with frustration at the prospect of somehow being… caught.

he sighed out, sounding disappointed. “you should know me if you’re in this sort of line of work, but i guess i’ll tell you my name.”

then, he gave you a lop-sided smile. “i’m Konig.”

you blinked at him. “okay.”

the smile slid off his lips. “okay? haven’t you heard of me?”

there was a bitter taste in your mouth as you shook your head slowly, and his face crunched into deeper disappointment. you almost regretted giving him the reply that you did, and you would have, if he didn’t start going on a tangent about himself.

“you should know me,” he insisted, putting a hand to his chest, “i’m Konig. i’m very famous in this line of work. i work under kortac.”

your brows pinched together, neck beginning to ache just from looking up at him.

he only sighed again. “i guess americans don’t know kortac. no matter. i’ll just have to kill you before eliminating Turner.”

at that, you jolted, beginning to scramble backwards as he reached out to you once more.

“wait—!” you shrieked, crashing into a trio of ladies that shrieked on impact, flailing as you turned to flee from the large man, but a loud, splintering shatter echoed through the entire room and the lights flickered overhead.

everything stilled and you stopped in your tracks. you looked up into the ceiling, at the chandelier overhead, stomach dropping when you saw the thing sway, then with more ear-rupturing splinters, in almost a slow-motion, began to crash down to the floor where you stood.

the entire room flooded with screams and shouts as the crowd scrambled out of the room. bodies pushed against yours and you almost fell to your knees, screeching when a hand hoisted you up and pushed you forward toward a narrow hallway stemming from the room.

a harsh german accent was in your ear, “fick mich—move, move, american!”

you did, as fast as you could, through the snaking crowd, and you clutched at your ears with a scream when gunshots rang through the room.

and when you turned to look over your shoulder, you saw a familiar broad body, clad in all black with a black mask, a tussle of dirty blonde hair shaved down on the sides of his head and pieces that hung down his forehead, and a silver scar on his upper lip with a revolver raised and aimed at Turner.

you couldn’t turn and go back with Konig’s massive body blocking your path and urging you forward. picking up the hem of your dress, you pushed through the squirming crowd and into the narrow hallway.

a resounding crash shook the entire mansion, and you almost fell to the ground again from the vibrations of it, but Konig picked you back up and pushed you behind a curtained area in the nook of the hallway.

when you were obscured from the rest of partygoers rushing through the mansion, Konig turned to you and put a hand around your throat, squeezing tight, and the other hand shoving a revolver right beneath your chin.

you clawed at his grip on your throat, glaring into the emptiness of his green eyes. with the last of your strength, you spit on his face, and he drew back his hand around your throat to wipe it away with a look of disgust. you scrambled away from him, gulping in breaths of air, but he only reached out and pulled you back with a tight grip around your arm.

you whipped your head back at him, trying to kick at him, but he pressed you to the wall with ease and a curiously amused look.

“you are not very good at this, little lady,” he admitted, and that only pissed you off.

with all your strength, you stomped as hard as you could on his foot, and he hissed out, reeling back but not easing his grip on you at all.

“i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” you shrieked, wriggling, and his brow furrowed.

“no? were you not hired to kill Turner?”

“no!” you almost screamed between desperation and frustration, and he released you. with a gasp you crashed to the floor.

“really?” he asked, helping you up with a tight grip that sent another flurrying panic through you, and you squirmed out of his touch. this time, he let you.

“yes,” you said, exasperated, fixing the dishevelment of your dress, and Konig stared at you, revolver laying limp by his side.

“oh,” he said, quietly, and you just glared at him, sending him a strange look when he began to fumble with his hands. now, he wouldn’t look at you, strangely awkward and apprehensive.

“sorry,” he mumbled, and you huffed, taking the moment to pull out your own revolver and dig it into his stomach.

he barely responded—just giving you that same distant, awkward look.

“you’re right,” you hissed, cocking the gun, and his brows only raised slightly as you continued, “i wasn’t hired to kill Turner. i’m doing this on my own accord.”

that seemed to pique his interest because he tilted his head, shoving his revolver into the breast pocket of his coat. “oh? pray tell, american?”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s none of your business, sir.”

you drew back the curtain and stomped into the hallway, looking around and unsettled by the eerie quietness of the place. most of the partygoers had emptied the mansion already, only distant gunshots and shouts and crashes of noise vibration through the place.

when you saw Turner’s men barrel past a couple corridors away, you rushed backwards with a squeak and almost screamed when you crashed into Konig’s big chest.

he looked down at you with a blank look and a steadying hand on your hip that you immediately swatted away. instead, you hurried down a corridor in the opposite direction of where Turner’s men had been headed, and felt an increasing annoyance when Konig started following you.

you turned to snap over your shoulder, “go away.”

the quiet thuds of his footsteps faltered and then picked up again and you huffed with annoyance.

turning fully to him with crossed arms and your revolver still in hand, he stopped a marginal distance from you with a hurt look on his face.

“what?” you asked, and his frown only deepened.

“let’s make an agreement, little lady.”

“why should i do that?” you asked honestly. “you’re a criminal and an assassin.”

the blank look he gave you only pulled you into self-reflection. technically, you were also a criminal, and mere steps away from a self-employed assassin.

“you want to kill Turner,” he said, and you jolted when more gunshots only got louder, maybe mere hallways away, but he continued without so much as a blink, “and i want to kill Turner for money. let’s make an agreement—i will let you kill him if you let me lie to my superiors and say that it was in fact i who killed him. otherwise, i will have to kill you for getting in my way.”

your stomach curdled at the easy way he said it.

when a smug smirk twisted his face, you winced at the sinister nature of it. “besides, you need me. i am very good at my job, no? my name is Konig for a reason.”

you mulled over his offer. what he proposed was reasonable and made perfect sense. although you didn’t know what Konig meant, you assumed he earned the name for a respectable talent in his profession. killing people.

but could you trust him?

you looked over the relaxed nature of his body, smug and arrogant and cocksure you would take up his agreement. you could trust him just as much as the devilish outlaw who earned his name for murdering without a trace—Ghost.

“alright, Konig,” you said bitterly, “let’s see how much you can offer me.”

his smirk only grew. “i can offer you a lot of things, little lady,” he sang, that arrogant look on his face only inflating as he turned on his heel and headed directly towards the gunshots.

faltering, you fell close in step behind his massive body and felt a panic when the gunshots and shouts sounded closer. he sent you a smug look and turned sharply into a different hallway, your head on a swivel for stray people as he led you into an immense library.

“why are we here?” you asked, turning in a circle to take in the multiple levels of the place.

he didn’t answer you, only walking up to a case of books on the far edge of a book-filled wall, and reached far back into its shelves where he searched around for something with a face of concentration. you watched with unease, looking over so often at the entrance of the library with your revolver in hand.

something clicked in the wall. your eyes widened in amazement as Konig stepped back and the bookcase shifted with a squeaking grown, slowly pulling pack and screeching to the side. behind it was a narrow, dim stone corridor lit with electric bulbs.

“see?” Konig offered, hand reaching out to you, “i can offer you much more than murder, little lady.”

rolling your eyes, you took his hand and scurried down the corridor quickly for fear of the vulnerable exposure in the immense library. Konig led you down the path blanketed with a thin layer of water, the corridor dripping water overhead, and a musk, dank smell in the air. his big back was the only thing you could see in the dim lighting of the narrow hallway.

you tried to quell any lingering thoughts of anxiety coursing through you—what if Konig had taken you down here to kill you?

what if he was actually one of Turner’s men posing as a hired assassin?

that almost stopped you in your tracks, and when he sent you a confused look from over your shoulder, filled with nothing but focus on the task ahead, you scurried forward again, closer to him than you had been before.

through the never-ending winding corridors, Konig seemed to maneuver them with an eerie precision and ease, sometimes stopping to observe the halls with a sweeping glance, and then continuing ahead without so much as a word.

soon, the winding path tracked into a sharp incline until you reached a dead-end. Konig searched over the surface of the stone wall with his gloved hands and pressed around till there was a soft click and the thing stuttered open with a groan.

he gave you another victorious smirk and helped you through the entrance with a polite hand that you took begrudgingly. you entered into a bedroom this time—one that looked untouched and picked clean.

probably a guest bedroom, you realized, then jumped forward with a start when the entrance of the corroder began sliding shut behind you. it was a bookcase like before, and you watched in awe as it dragged shut backwards into its nook, settling with a cloud of dust.

Konig waved at it with a cough and strode forward to open the bedroom door and into the hallway. you followed him quickly.

peering down the empty and deadly silent hallway, you spotted a carved wood banister of a staircase at the end of it and realized that you must’ve been on an upper floor now.

“we are near Turner’s bedroom now,” Konig said, and you cocked a brow at him.

“how do you know all of this?” you pressed, and he shrugged.

“i memorized the blueprint.”

you resisted rolling your eyes, and instead with a tinge of sarcasm said, “impressive.”

he puffed up with pride and a strong nod. “i know.”

you allowed yourself to roll your eyes.

creeping along the hallway, Konig neared a grand set of carved double doors and gold handles that no doubt looked to be the primary bedroom.

“how do you know Turner will be here?” you whispered, a sudden creeping apprehension coming over you. your hands twisted around the gun to ease a heavy feeling in your chest.

this felt rushed and not right at all.

you hadn’t even prepared yourself.

you swallowed hard. how were you going to kill this man when you knew him better than the others you had killed? more than Charles and his associate and Turner’s lackey who had chased you and John down on horseback?

“i don’t,” Konig said, placing a gloved hand on the handle, sending you a smirk, “just a good guess.”

he began to turn the gilded handle of the door when a loud gunshot ricocheted through the hallway, shattering a vase by your side as a bullet whizzed past your shoulder.

with a shriek, you scrambled back against the wall, seeing a dozen of Turner’s men rushing down the long, long corridor of the hallway, and suddenly the bedroom doors were kicked open, three guardsmen bursting through.

Konig was quick to move, shooting one in the face and the other in his leg, taking the third beneath his arm and crushing his neck in a quick jerk that had him falling limp to the carpet.

the man with the shot leg screamed in pain, clutching at his own leg and hobbling near you with a scrunched expression. you bit back any feeling of sympathy and wound up your good arm, punching him straight in the face.

he fell to the ground with a thud and Konig gave you an approving, crazy laugh, reloading his revolver and shot down the hall—two men fell in his wake.

“go,” he urged, jerking his head in the direction of Turner’s room, and its doors that were swung wide open, “i will take care of these men, little lady, you just remember our agreement!”

“wait—” you called with an outstretched arm, a gripping uncertainty wracking you, but Konig was already gone.

at the conjoinment of another hallway, more of Turner’s men poured into the vicinity, and you heard Konig curse loudly as he rushed forward, before a new slew of people flooded into the opposite side of the hallway.

you recognized a broad, blonde male as Ghost and another smaller blonde form as Kate, Soap, John, and Gaz somewhere in the fray, and with Alejandro and Rudolfo and los vaqueros added to it, it looked like the real war Ghost had promised you days ago.

is this why he had left you at that brothel this morning? because a full-drawn out war would happen right here in Turner’s mansion? knowing you would refuse to stay away from the bloodshed if he hadn’t lied to you last night?

even now, with all his lies, you had refused to stay away anyways.

you clutched at your own chest, trying not to sink down into the floor and stay there forever, and pushed yourself from the carpet, heaving yourself up onto the handle of the doors and slamming both shut behind you quickly.

with heavy, panicked breaths that forced through your choked up throat, you fought back any tears that brimmed in your eyes as you pressed your forehead to the cool surface. you felt lightheaded and eerily light. you wanted Yue-Yi’s tight grip on you to ground you again. or Ghost’s arms to wind around you. or even the mean pinch of your mama’s fingers on your skin.

tears fell down your cheeks.

Ghost—would he be okay? alive?

even Konig, who you had just met, who had been so willing to help you, for no good reason, mirroring the way he seemed to work without much reasoning at all, had you doubled over with nauseating worry.

the soft click of a gun behind you had you stiffening.

slowly, you turned from the door, grip tight on your own revolver that you hid from sight behind the wide berth of the skirt of your evening gown.

you were met with the sight of Turner, standing poised and indigent, revolver trained on you. you didn’t miss the shake in his hands.

he looked so much less pronounced in person. graying and old and aging and just as wrinkly as you remembered him to be, but less sinister than your mind painted him. average and normal and face stricken with the same sort of roiling panic you were feeling in the moment. you took him in with a new ease.

despite being the west’s biggest gang leader, he seemed diminished in such a close proximity.

“you,” he hissed, lip curled with disgust, “i thought you were dead.”

you swallowed hard, tight throat and unable to produce a single sound.

behind him, you saw his wife cowering in the corner with his small daughter trembling in her embrace.

you narrowed your eyes at them and Turner stepped forward sharply in threat.

you found your voice, steady and strong, “where are my daddy and mama?”

he scoffed, looking away from you briefly before brandishing the revolver around at you. it only reminded yourself of when you had been scared and inexperienced with a weapon.

“afraid i killed them?” he asked with a sinister smile, and a roil of annoyance wrung through you.

you trained your gun on his wife and daughter who shrieked, the little girl shaking with sniveling cries. Turner stiffened.

“you wouldn’t,” he said, voice low and rumbling with a ferocity, and you just nodded.

“i wouldn’t, so i’ll let them leave before i kill you.”

his eyes flashed, lips twisted into a menacing scowl.

“fine.”

his wife and daughter skirted out the room, crumpled down and low to the floor as they scurried past you out the double doors of the room. as soon as you shut the entrance behind them with a shaky exhale, tuning back to Turner, he lurched towards you with a strangled shout.

you reeled back, back slamming against the doors as he swung for you, and you ducked, scrambling over the floor with a shriek. he grabbed a fistful of your dress and pulled you back towards him across the carpet, wrestling you down to the ground, and you punched and shoved at his face, rolling across the carpet and trying to squirm out of his tight grip. his hands found your neck and crushed down on your throat with a strength that pushed all the air from your lungs.

you jerked up your knee, hitting him straight in a sore spot that had him hissing and grip going slack, just enough to shove him off you with as much strength as you could muster, and he skidded away, landing against the floor with a thud.

you gasped for breath, light-headed but vision sharper than ever as you raised the revolver, just before Turner was reaching for something across the carpet—a small white box.

your eyes widened. you recognized it as the one Yue-Yi had gifted you—wreak havoc, she had said, and you watched with a curl of panic as he struck a match and threw it to the edge of the room, a blooming fire bursting forth with a rush of shocking heat that had you crossing your arms over your face with a scream.

you scrambled back from the fire that consumed the room with a terrifying speed, revolver trained on Turner’s crumpled figure sprawled over the floor a marginal distance away.

he picked up his head and gave you a sinister look.

“your daddy and mama are dead.”

a strangled, animalistic sound clawed through your throat, and you screamed as a sob wracked you, aiming your revolver and shooting him right in the knee.

he screamed, shifting away from you, the pristine white carpet pooling with a new crimson puddle and singing at the edges with an ominous black.

you struggled to breath in the room, the air tinged with a thick smog and flickers of strewn ash that felt hot when they landed on your skin.

“i doused this entire mansion with gas,” he rasped, coughing through the smoke, “if you try to kill me, you’ll burn with me.”

he laughed, body shaking violently when more coughs wracked through him, blood splattering across the carpet and painting his lips with an unnatural red.

slowly, you made your way towards your knees with a great effort, your exposed skin flushed painfully from the heat of the surrounding fire, a portion of the canopy bed behind him crumbling, fire spreading across the carpet with hot, swelling licks.

you tried to scream but couldn’t through the tight swollen soreness of your throat, edging from its path as it skirted around you.

you forced words out, a searing raw pain in your throat, “why would you do this?”

all of it? you wanted to scream, why would he try to kill you? your daddy? your mama?

then, you coughed, hand pressed to your mouth as the motion shook you to your core, tears spilling down your cheeks to dispel the smoke, and his smile only grew.

“i own you,” he whispered, barely audible over the loud crackle of the fire, curtains melting away from the windows as the carpet peeled up from the floorboards.

“i won’t let that bastard Simon Riley take you from me.”

you almost snarled at him, tempted to aim your revolver at his head and just put a whole round into his brain. but that felt rushed and not right at all.

you wanted him to suffer. painful and slow. the thought gave you a sliver of sanity.

you hissed out, “i won’t kill you.”

his eyes flashed, twitching against the carpet like he was going to tackle you again, but the stiffness in his bloody, soaked pant leg prevented him from moving.

you smiled—so wide that it cracked your dry lips.

“i’ll leave you to burn in hell,” you said, clambering to your feet, swaying in the open air, dizzy and nausea wringing through your head, because you just couldn’t really breathe, and Turner let out a strangled cry.

“you can’t leave!” he said, voice tinged with a ferocious desperation as he clawed forward suddenly, and the quick motion had you reeling backwards and tipping back to the world swung in front of your eyes.

you fell back down against the carpet, face narrowly missing a ring of fire, more furniture crumpled chunks of ash and blackened wood just beyond it.

“i own you,” he snarled, voice a throaty sinister rasp. his hand closed around your ankle and a new curling disgust bloomed from deep within your gut.

you looked down at him and thrust the tip of your revolver against his sweaty, red forehead. his eyes blew wide, bloody lips parting with a new fearful sort of shock that twisted your stomach in the most pleasant ways you didn’t know that you could feel.

“i choose who owns me,” you whispered, and you knew he heard you from the way his eyes just stretched further, and you blew straight clean through his forehead.

he fell completely limp against the carpet, lifeless and void of the crawling desperation you had just seen mere moments before.

more tears came pouring down your cheeks and you shoved your knee into the side of his face, biting back a scream when you saw the gaping, bloody gouge of flesh in his forehead and the cool, empty placidness of his blue eyes.

you killed him. his warm grip was still around your ankle.

scrambling back away from the dead body, you gasped when the exposed skin of your arm was enveloped with something unbearably hot, wet, and rippling in undulations.

pulling your arm away from the fire, you stared in horror at the new char of your skin and the way your silk gloves had half-melted into your arm with a goopy liquidity.

the scalding pain sharpened your senses, and you hauled yourself towards the double doors, raw skin flush to the carpet, and you strained up to the handles of the doors, fingers just wrapping around it when the door opened from beneath you.

you fell forward with your eyes screwed shut, trying to push yourself off the ground, and gentle hands hoisted you towards a broad, strong body low to the ground.

“princess, princess, princess—”

lips were against your ear and you immediately curled into his touch, eyes fluttering open to see his warmth and inviting just mere inches from your own.

face maskless and bare.

you had never felt so much relief.

“Simon?” you squeaked, voice meek and quiet and half as strong as you had forced it to be the whole day. you melted into him, muscles going lax with weakness.

he hissed when you leaned against him, and you pulled back slightly to take in the charred material of his suit stuck to an oozing wetness beneath it—sopping red with blood.

you choked on more sobs but he just shushed you, stroking a hand through your hair before pressing his face to your neck, then your hair.

“it’ll be alright, princess.”

you had never heard his voice so weak before. he leaned back against the ground, the walls still up in flames around him, and you watched his body fight to stay up before sliding slowly to the ground.

you pulled yourself forward, fighting back coughs as you laid next to him.

“you need to get up,” he rasped, pushing you away with a hand. the movement just made you hiss in desperate frustration.

“no. m’staying right here,” you said, curling closer to him, and he let you, face soft and relaxed as the entrance to Turner’s bedroom crumbled just beyond your feet.

you took in the curves of his bare face—the age and lines and scars that reflected only a shimmering honesty in the fragile moment.

with great effort you craned over him to kiss that silvery scar on his upper lip, and when you pulled back he only gave you a weak smile.

“you never listen to me,” he whispered, voice throaty and wrung through, and you could only smile back.

“never,” you agreed, intertwining your fingers with his.

“i was late this morning,” he rasped, nosing through your hair, “and when i arrived you were gone.

“i thought you finally came to your bloody senses and ran away—” he was cut off by a series of wracking coughs, and you pressed your forehead to your intertwined hands, shaking with sniveling tears.

“i thought you had abandoned me,” you whispered.

he kissed the crown of your head. “never.”

you melted into him.

he sounded stricken with anger. “i’ve lied to you.”

“i know,” you said, brushing a finger over the lightness of his lashes.

“you were supposed to run away,” he said weakly, “you were never supposed to stay. since the beginning, you were supposed to run away.”

“is that why you were late this morning?” you croaked, and he nodded against your hair.

“i was relieved when you were gone,” he said, “but i think it killed me.”

with drooping eyelids and a swirling smog clouding your senses, you distantly remembered how you felt that morning. like you had left behind your shattered heart in that brothel. like you had died in that room and you left behind your body and you were floating as a ghost through the san francisco streets.

“leaving killed me,” you said softly, through rough coughs, and he only pulled you closer.

“you weren’t supposed to be here, either,” he muttered, breaths shallow and weak in your ear.

you craned your neck to look up at him, taking in his face fully, and the droop of his tired eyes, before thumbing over the scars along his jaw.

“anything else to confess to me?” you asked, soft and he nodded.

“i lied to you.”

your brow pinched, another cough rippling from your throat. “i know that.”

he shook his head with a weakness that had your heart crumbling. “long time ago. that night on the train.”

the breath died in your throat and he pressed his forehead against yours, warm and solid.

“i said i bedded you for revenge. i lied.”

the floor fell away from beneath you and you felt like you were floating.

“why?” you croaked, and his smile was wistful.

“so full of questions.”

“always,” you said, pressing him further, but his eyes closed, breaths growing with a louder rasp now. a violent panic crawled up your chest and you nudged him, relieved when his eyes cracked open again.

“in time,” he whispered, and the strangled, frustrated sound that left your throat that only made his smile grow.

“i’m sorry i didn’t take you on that date,” he said, and you shook your head, the tip of your nose against his.

“i know why you didn’t,” you insisted, and he frowned.

“you’re supposed to be mad at me.”

you frowned back. “stop telling me what i’m supposed to be.”

at that, he only smirked, looking strangely satisfied as he stroked a thumb over the exposed, hot, raw skin of your neck.

you took a shaky deep breath, only swallowing down more smoke that had you coughing with a grimace. “just…”

his dark, swirling eyes that were so familiar now were dimmed but just as warm. you took your charred hand, ignoring the searing pain of it, and brushed it over his blonde hair. he closed his eyes at your gentle touch.

“please kiss me,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered open, lurching forward with a stiff clumsiness at the awkward position, and suddenly his warm lips were pressed to your own.

you didn’t know what you were doing—just that the rhythmic movement of his soft flesh molding against yours had a honey warmth dripping through your chest and fluttering down your spine.

you tried to match him, flushing at the feeling of his every breath melding into your every exhale in a never-ending steady pulse. your hands snaked into his hair and gripped softly, and a low noise left his throat.

your head spun with the lack of oxygen, and more heavenly moments stretched on until he pulled back, licking over his lips like he had by the railway yesterday. like he was tasting you.

“not bad, princess,” he whispered, eyes fluttering close with a weakness. you pressed against him, unable to fight the droop of your own eyes anymore, a pleasant muffle filling your head, and a purpling black, splotchy glaze dancing from behind your eyelids.

the last thing you felt were his lips against your cheek, the sound of the fire consuming the splintering, crumbling house with loud crackles, distant shouts, and Simon’s soft breaths against your skin.

okay okay i know that this chapter doesn't have smut or much fun stuffff but i hope you liked konig's appearance LMFAO but i can confirm that next chapter there will be 1. the do 😵‍💫 like fr this time 😵‍💫 2. JEALOUS GHOST SDLFJSLEIFJ 3. and yea less angst pls and thank you

i love all of you. please have a wonderful weekend <3 next chapter will be uploaded tuesday (ON TIME TOO)!!

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