Here is a current list of all of the work I've posted here. I write mostly for Chris Evans characters and all of my stories are intended for an 18+ audience. Minors please DNI.
Requests are closed but my asks are always open! Come riff with me or send asks/what ifs about any of my works! But no NSFW GIFs, please and thank you! 💜
🖤 Dark 🩶 Soft!Dark 😥 Angst 🥵 Smut 🥹Fluff ⭐️New/Updated
Trapped AU
Andy keeps telling you how lucky you are that he chose you to be his wife. 🖤 😥
You'd Be Like Heaven to Touch
You can't believe your luck when you find the perfect house for cheap. 🖤🥵
Head Over Heels
All Cole wants is someone to share eternity with. He won't stop looking until he finds them.
Never Let You Go
You rent a tiny cabin to have an isolated respite from your hectic life. You weren't expecting the rental's proprietor, Cole. 🖤
I Know I Should Know Better series
Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it? 😥🥵
Heads Will Roll series
Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.
Luck Be a Lady
Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head? 🩶🥵
Still Life series
Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad... 😥
Drabbles & Headcanons
Curtis + soft!dark + soothe 🖤
Curtis Takes the Snowpiercer 🖤🥵
Curtis + Possessive 🥵
Just Part of the Process - I Know I Should Know Better AU - Actor!Curtis Everett x PA!Reader 😥
These Days - estranged brothers Curtis and Andy 😥
Family Affair - angsty brothers Curtis and Colin 😥
One + One is Two - A collection of Single Dad Curtis snippets and drabbles 🥹⭐️
Heads Will Roll series
Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.
Drabbles & Headcanons
Relax
A Merry Little Christmas
Killing Moon
When you and your boyfriend steal something without fully realizing who you are stealing from, you're sent on a cross-country adventure by an ally you're pretty sure you shouldn't trust.
Giving Me a Thrill
A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.
Psycho Killer AU
A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life. 🖤🥵
Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale
Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two 🖤🥵😥
More Than This series
Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn. 😥⭐️
I'm Feeling Like I Never Should
It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.
Lips Like Sugar
Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.
Drabbles & Headcanons
Jealous Ex Ransom
Sequel 🥵
End
No Way of Knowing - More Than This What If 😥
Voices Carry - Estranged brothers Ransom and Lloyd 😥
What You Can Do For Your Country
Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help. 🖤
Everybody Wants to Rule the World series
Your vacation comes to an end when a powerful and mysterious man gets his first taste. 🖤🥵
Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale
Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two
All Things Go series
It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine! 😥
Close to Me miniseries
You're in desperate need of a fake boyfriend and this handsome stranger looks friendly enough to ask. But when it's done, he might need you to return the favor.
Drabbles & Headcanons
Arranged Marriage Steve Headcanon
Tell Me One Thing - More Than This What If 😥
What if Reader was into it? - What You Can Do For Your Country What If 🖤
We're All Monsters
Multi-character, multi-reader vampire AU 🖤😥🥵
The Rogers Academy for Exceptional Wives
Multi-character, multi-reader wife training AU 🖤😥🥵⭐️
Three's Company
A collection of drabbles about various throuples made up of two CE babes and a gn!reader. 🥵⭐️
Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?
Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Masterlist
A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂
This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!
And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.
“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”
You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.
Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.
“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”
“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.
The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”
Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown.
Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with.
As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard.
You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.”
You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.
“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?”
“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.
The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.
You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.
He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”
You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey.
“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.”
You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???
You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.
“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is.
You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.
Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.
You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.
“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”
This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.
Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”
Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.
“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”
“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.
But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.
As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”
“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”
“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.
You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”
“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks.
You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”
You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.
The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.
“Bambi?” you ask.
He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.
You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly.
He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.
You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??
Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.
Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.
And you’re making so much money.
In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.
And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills.
And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.
But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.
She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”
You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”
He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”
You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”
“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly.
“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.
You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.
Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.”
Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”
You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”
Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”
Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”
You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.
The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.
At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice.
Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new.
“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”
You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.
His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”
You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you.
You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.
Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts.
It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.
It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.
You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.
He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”
Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.
“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says.
Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.
“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?”
Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.
You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?
He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”
“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.
Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”
Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”
You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.
It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine.
You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.
After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.
You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”
A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”
It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”
“Why?” you blurt out without thinking.
He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.
“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood.
You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything.
“Someone touched you?”
“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”
His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.
You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything.
“Tell me who it was.”
“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous.
He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”
“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”
“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”
You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.
At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”
Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”
“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.”
You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?”
He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”
You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.”
He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”
You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”
“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”
You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”
His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this.
Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”
You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work.
You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.
The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in.
As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”
“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”
“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.
You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.”
He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.
Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.”
You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.
Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.
You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly.
Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”
His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”
He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”
“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”
Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”
You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath.
You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”
“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”
You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.
The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.
He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.”
You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.
“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”
Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”
“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table.
Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.
Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.
“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”
You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.
You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”
You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't.
Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”
Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”
Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?
Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either.
The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.
Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”
Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.
The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”
Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.
As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”
You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous.
While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again.
The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.
You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.
Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis.
You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.
When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.
You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”
“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.
It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist.
He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”
“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why.
He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.
“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.
To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”
Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”
He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”
You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.
There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.
Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.
You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored.
A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.
It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.
It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.
Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.
Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money.
You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?
You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.
You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.
Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.
Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.
You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”
He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.
Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”
You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”
“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”
It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.
“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.”
It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.
“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”
“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”
He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”
You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”
Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”
His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore.
Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.
You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.
He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”
“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.
He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.
He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.
You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”
He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”
You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little.
He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.”
As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.
“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt.
“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout.
“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him.
He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.
You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you.
You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.
You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.
You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.
You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him.
As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps.
You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.
“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”
You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”
His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”
You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”
“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.
You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”
“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.
“What?”
“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”
Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??
He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”
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Part 1 💍Part 2 💍 Part 3 💍 Part 4 💍Part 5 💍 Part 6 💍 Part 7 💍Part 8
Warning: dub/noncon, entrapment, control.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Mob!Steve x wedding guest reader
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Please let me know what you enjoyed and what you think could happen next! I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
You stare at Steve’s thick knuckles. You examine every inch of his hand as it grips your knee; the veins beneath the skin, the ruby ring on his pinky, and the way his fingers curl every now and then as if making sure you’re still trapped in his grasp. There’s nowhere for you to go; not as he steers with his other hand along the city streets you don’t know.
If you weren’t such a coward, you’d ask where you’re going. Questions don’t get you answers, just a lecture… often more than. You flip open your clutch and pull out your phone. It’s close to noon already.
“What’s going on?” Steve glances at you in the mirror.
“Just… checking the time.” You say.
“Oh? You got somewhere else to be?” He challenges.
You cough and shove your phone away. “No, I was just… curious.” You feel around the silk lining and panic. You squirm and search, finding nothing but your lip gloss and folding mirror. “Oh no…”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He runs his hand up your thigh.
“I think maybe I dropped my wallet back at the hotel.” You gulp.
“Nah,” he hums softly. “You’re good, doll. I got you.”
“You…”
“I had to look into a few things. That’s all.” He flicks his finger along your skirt. “I got you all tucked up in my pocket.”
You peek at him. You don’t know if he means your wallet or if it's a metaphor. You feel like you are in his pocket.
“Oh, okay.” You utter softly.
“Figured I’d need your car brought around mine. And I got my guys headed down to your place on Miranda…”
“You know where I live?”
“Lived.” He taps your leg with his palm. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m gonna take care of you. I’m home now, sweetheart.”
Your throat is so tight it hurts. You brush your fingers up and down and chew your lip. You don’t know how to get out of this. He’s just some guy, right? He can’t make you do all this.
“Steve,” You say cautiously. “We just met last night.”
“Love at first sight.” He grins, squeezing your leg. “Isn’t it a dream?”
“Steve,” you repeat, softer. “Please, I don’t think I’m ready–”
“You’re scared.” He interrupts. “You don’t gotta be. You’re thinking too much. I got you, doll. You just need to relax.” His fingers crawl down your skirt. “Alright?”
He edges under the hem and pushes it up little by little. You clamp your legs together as your whole body goes stiff. You catch his wrist with both hands.
“Now, sweetheart, I’m driving.” He pinches you.
“Steve, stop. I can’t. I… we barely know each other. You’re– you’re scaring me.”
He huffs. “You’re scaring yourself. I told ya, don’t overthink it. I mean, we work so good together.” He growls. “I know you felt what I felt last night. I felt it. Around me.” His voice trembles and he sucks in a gritty breath. “The way I didn’t wanna get out of you, the way you didn’t want me to neither.”
“Steve…”
He bends his fingers and digs his nails into your skin. You whimper and twitch. He growls and rips his hand away, leaving scratches across your thigh.
“I know you feel it,” He grips the wheel with both hands and turns suddenly without signalling. “I know, baby. Thing is, you’re too good. You can’t let yourself just feel how you feel. I saw it last night. You were so shy…” He clucks and turns again, steering behind an old industrial building. “You can’t hide from me. No, you stuck right out. The only one I could look at.”
He veers into the lot and twists the wheel, stopping sharply by the back wall of the abandoned warehouse. He inhales so his chest puffs out and cracks his neck. He clicks free his seat belt then leans forward and pulls the lever under his seat, sliding it back to its limit.
“I just gotta remind you,” he unbuckles his belt as his jaw clenches around his words. “You gotta remember.” He reaches into his pants and pulls himself out through his fly. He pumps himself a few times before he’s hard.
“What are you–” You reach blindly for the door but the handle does nothing.
“Get on.” He snarls.
“What?” You squeak.
“Get on me now, sweetheart.” He grits. “Cause you’re getting me all worked up and it’s your job to calm me down.”
“I… I don’t want to, Steve.” You twist around and pull at the door handle, fumbling to find the lock. “I want to go–”
He grabs your arm and wrenches you back. Your elbow hits the shifter and you yipe. You writhe around and clutch at his fingers as you try to get free. “Please, I’m scared of you–”
“You’re scared of yourself. Of how good it feels cause baby I know no one else makes you cum the way I do,” he sneers as he pushes himself out of his seat. He reaches under you and slides your seat back too.
“Steve!” You exclaim and he clings to your wrist. “Please.”
“Shhhh,” he hushes you as he climbs across, so big that his movement is awkward and stunted.
He kicks the glove box as he angles over you. You push your knees up against him, fighting to keep him over you. He let go of your wrist and stretches his hand around your jaw. He rests his forehead against yours, his nose aligned to yours.
“Let me in, baby.” He growls. “I don’t wanna hurt you. I haven’t, have I?”
“You are… now—”
“Open up, doll.” He slithers and tilts his head to kiss you. His tongue glides across your lips and you turn your head. He smears a line of saliva across your cheek.
“Steve, please.” you beg and push on his chest.
“You don’t get it, doll,” he drops his hand down and jams his thick fingers between your thighs. “I don’t do one night. You’re mine. For good.” He pushes his fingertips into the inside of your leg until you yelp. “So put me inside you before I do.”
Summary: Curtis has been working as your bodyguard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?
Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking, explicit language, bad boyfriend, self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. The reader's having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst!! age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, pregnancy, smut (oral - f receiving, p in v) more en dashes than you would ever believe - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: I really hope you guys love this one as much as I do. It's been a long time coming.
A huge thanks as always to @paperweight91, who had to give me her annual "You can actually write smut," pep talk. I couldn't do it without you, Chelsea!!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me!!! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
All you could hear was a baby, somewhere, screaming.
You’d just been at the interior designer’s office to drop off some samples of what you wanted for the new house. Then when you’d driven past a cute little baby boutique, you’d made the driver stop, and you’d done a little impulsive shopping. Ransom’s excitement for your little girl was infectious, and you’d been trying to let yourself indulge in it in order to stave off the anxiety of all the things that could happen now that your husband didn’t have an heir. So you’d returned with a couple of small shopping bags in hand.
But you stopped short when you got in the door and were met with that sonic wall of screaming. But as you looked around, there were no guests, no one unexpected, no source of the sound. The lower floor was empty aside from Ransom sitting on the couch, Lola held firmly on his lap as he gently petted her.
“What’s going on?” you shouted across the room.
Ransom jumped slightly, not having realized you were home, then scrambled for his phone. Immediately, the noise, blessedly, stopped. “Sorry,” he said, blushing a little, and for the first time you were pretty sure you were seeing Ransom self-conscious. “Lola and I have been working on getting used to the sounds of a baby when you aren’t around. Google says it’s a good way to prepare your dog.”
You didn’t try to stop the warm smile you felt taking over your face. “Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”
He let her off his lap, and she scampered over to you. “She’s doing good. Making a lot of progress. It isn’t so scary anymore, is it?”
Lola looked up at you and wagged her tail. “Good job, baby,” you said to her as you put down your bags and picked her up. “What else does Google say?”
“Uh,” Ransom scratched the back of his neck. He was embarrassed by how much work and thought he’d put into this. It made your heart melt. “We should be getting her used to the new smells too, so letting her sniff anything we buy for the baby. And we should introduce any new routines or patterns right now. Get her used to being taken care of by both of us, not just you.”
“You already do a good job of that,” you said sincerely.
He shrugged. “I’m trying.” He bent down to look through your bags. “Speaking of new smells, what did you get?”
“Oh, I passed by a little baby store on my way home, so I decided to stop in and see what I could find.”
Ransom took out a pretty lilac onesie and a soft sage blanket. He carefully held them up for Lola to smell. “It’s so tiny,” he said softly, reverently smoothing his thumb over the onesie.
“Yeah,” you answered, moving your free hand to your bump, which was big enough now that you felt like you could barely call it that. “I think she’s going to be even teenier than we realize.”
Ransom delicately put the baby’s things back in the bag and moved both of his hands to your stomach. You felt the baby shift in response, the way she did right before she was about to start punching you. Ransom had yet to feel her, and you knew it was bothering him, so you grabbed one of his wrists and moved it a few inches to where she’d started to press against you. “She’s right there,” you whispered.
Ransom pressed his lips together in concentration, and then his brow furrowed in frustration. “I still can’t-“ She moved again, and he froze. “Wait,” he said, so quietly like he didn’t want to spook her, and she kicked again, almost in response. “That’s her?” he asked, breathless.
“Yeah,” you grinned, “that’s her.” And then, feeling like your heart was cracking wide open, you added, “She’s saying hi to her daddy.”
You felt his breath hitch through his hands on you. He looked up, tears in his eyes and a scared, happy, joyful smile on his face. He moved one hand up to your cheek while the other stayed pressed to the spot where your daughter was, and kissed you, soft and slow and happy. So, so happy.
You were sharing the couch with Ransom, both reading quietly with Lola snuggled between you, when it washed over you. This had happened a few times now. Heat coursing through your whole body. Need. Out of nowhere. You knew it was normal. You’d read about it in your books. But that didn’t make it any easier.
The last time you’d tried to take care of it yourself while Ransom was at work, but you’d discovered that your belly was now too big for you to reach around and get to your core, even with your vibrator. So you’d cried alone in your bed until it finally passed. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do that again.
You looked over at Ransom over your book. God, he was so beautiful. It still kind of made you mad, even after all this time. The way your feet were pulled up onto the couch, your toes just barely grazed his thigh. You moved back quickly. As much as every part of your body was screaming at you to crawl onto his lap and make him fuck you, you couldn’t actually do that. You didn’t even know if he wanted it. Plus, you were pretty sure that if he touched you, you’d actually explode.
At your movement, he looked up at you. “You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed the way it did anytime you displayed the slightest hint of discomfort or displeasure.
You smiled and hoped it didn’t come across as a grimace. “I’m fine, just a little uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to go get you another pillow? Would that help?”
You shook your head vigorously. “Nope! I’m fine. It’s fine. Just ignore me.” You took a deep, slow breath as the need got even worse.
And the way he was pinning you down with his gaze wasn’t helping. “You don’t seem like you’re uncomfortable. You seem like you’re in pain.” He reached a hand out to you, and you shrank back, knowing that if he touched you, you’d lose all semblance of control.
“It’s not pain, Ransom, I promise. Please. Please just drop it.” You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes as your whole body felt like it was about to catch fire.
“I’m not going to drop it if there’s something I can do to help,” he said firmly, and you wanted to scream.
“No, it’s– It’s fine, I just–“ You closed your eyes as you struggled to breathe normally. Finally, you gave up. He was worse than Steve; you weren’t going to be able to keep hiding this from him. “It’s the hormones. I just get really horny sometimes. Out of nowhere. And it’s awful, but it’ll pass.”
You felt the way he went completely still and opened your eyes. He was staring at you, a smirk on his face. “Well,” he said, and his voice had dropped at least an octave. It shot right through you. “That sounds like the exact sort of thing I can help with.”
“Ransom–“You shook your head, not sure of what to say. Not trusting yourself to say anything.
The smirk dropped off his face, and his eyes got serious. “Do you want me to help you with this?” he asked. And it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t sexy. It was a real question, and you knew that if you said no, he would leave you alone. Or maybe make you some tea. Find another way to help, to make you comfortable. But he wouldn’t touch you. And he wouldn’t keep asking.
Your eyes slipped closed again. “You don’t have to,” you answered, your voice small.
“Hey, look at me,” he commanded gently. You forced yourself to open your eyes, and he continued. “I know exactly what I do and don’t have to do. Do you want me to help you with this?”
With one more deep breath, you tried not to whine as you answered, “Yes. Please.”
And before the words had even fully left your mouth, he’d lunged across the couch and captured your lips in a deep, passionate, hungry kiss. It felt like he might eat you alive, and you wanted it. You wanted everything he could give you.
He had you flat on the couch, his body covering yours, even with your bump in the way. You took the opportunity when he came up for air to whine, “More. I– I–“
A gentle hand on your cheek grounded you. “I know, I know. I need you in my bed. Think you can get upstairs?”
A bed sounded nice with the way you were sagging off the couch. But you were also pretty sure that if he stopped touching you, you’d die. You clutched onto his wrist. “I think, but–“
“Yeah, I know,” he said, even as he peppered your neck with kisses, “I’ve got you.”
He helped you off the couch, never letting go of you. And as he moved you up the stairs, some part of him was always touching you. A hand wrapped around your wrist, another on your hip, his lips on the back of your neck.
Once in his bedroom, he stopped you before you could climb onto the bed. He kissed you again, breaking for just long enough to lift your t-shirt over your head and fling it behind him. One more kiss and then he was kneeling down beside you, working your leggings down your legs to the point you could kick them off your feet. Then, his hands moved reverently up your body—your ankles, your calves, your thighs—to your panties, which he pulled down with equal reverence. Then he continued moving up, placing a gentle kiss on your belly and then working to undo your bra. Once he’d freed your breasts, he took them in both hands as he buried his face in your neck.
“Ransom,” you whined, tugging on his shirt, as he still somehow had all of his clothes on. You needed them off. You needed them off right now.
You felt him grin into your neck, and then he pulled away enough that you could get his shirt off. You ran both hands up his stomach and chest. How was he fair? How was he yours? (Because he was now. He was he was he was.) You dropped your hands to undo his pants, but he stopped you, lifting them so he could kiss your knuckles. Then he very carefully laid you down on his bed, moving a pillow to support your lower back. He trailed kisses down your entire body before he stood back up and took the rest of his clothes off as fast as he possibly could.
Once he was finally naked, he paused for a moment at the foot of the bed, and you both just stared at each other. Even as you’d gotten to know him, gotten used to him, you’d never get used to the way he seemed like he was carved from marble. Or how his skin glowed. Or how–
“God, look at you,” his whisper interrupted your thoughts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” And then his hands were back on your body, spreading your legs so that he could slot himself between them. He hooked one ankle over his shoulder. “That feel okay?” he asked.
All you could do was nod, and he immediately returned his lips to you, working his way up your inner thigh. With a jolt, you realized what he meant to do, and you reached out an urgent hand to him. “You don’t have to–“ you started but were cut off when he turned back to you with a playful glare.
“What did I say about that?” he asked, his voice so low.
He’d gone back to kissing up your thigh, and you had to force yourself to take a breath, to unfog your mind, to remember what he said. “You said–” you paused with a gasp as his lips got so, so close to the center of you. “You said you already know what you do and don’t have to do.”
“That’s right,” he muttered into your thigh. “And I want to do this. I’m desperate to find out what you taste like.” Then he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. “But if you really don’t want me to, I won’t.” You took another breath and opened your mouth, even though you weren’t sure what your response would be. “But please, please, let me taste you, baby. I’ll stop if you hate it. I promise.”
“What if you hate it?” you asked, voice small, even as you were desperate to just finally say yes.
He laughed and sent you a dirty smirk. “I can guaran-fucking-tee that I won’t.”
Your body was burning up again, so with a small moan you finally let go. “Yes, please.”
And just like that, his mouth was on you. You threw your head back on a gasp, like all the air had been punched out of your body. Your hands bunched into the sheets on either side of your head as he lapped at you like a man starved. You felt his tongue moving between your folds, getting to know you, searching for your clit. The second he found it, your eyes slammed shut, your body spasmed, and you felt more than heard his pleased hum. He experimented with licks first, before he wrapped his tongue around it and gave it a hard suck. You couldn’t help the lewd moan you released, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.
You’d never felt anything like this. Not with the only other person you’d ever had sex with. And you’d certainly never let Ransom do anything like this before, not when getting pregnant had been the only goal and everything else had seemed like a waste of time. And definitely not by yourself. You’d never taken such care with yourself.
Your breaths were coming fast as you felt yourself climbing, climbing, climbing. A good, soft warmth was moving through your body as you felt his hands on your hips, firmly holding onto you. Keeping you from floating away. Your eyes slipped open; you weren’t sure why, but you were immediately met with Ransom’s intense gaze, locked on your face to take in every single nuance of your reaction. And the way he was looking at you, watching you…
That was what did it. That was what sent you over the edge. The way that he saw you. The look in his eyes. You came with a cry, your body shaking apart, only anchored by his hands on your hips, pinning you down to earth.
His mouth stayed on you through your whole orgasm and all the aftershocks. Drinking you up, like he couldn’t get enough. Then, slowly but surely, he began working his way back up you, his lips and hands moving in tandem as he traversed your whole body. Once he got to your neck, he nuzzled into you before meeting your eyes with a cocky smirk. “Feeling better?”
You tried to nod, but all of your bones were like jelly. And while the need inside of you was no longer so insistent, no longer hot enough to burn, there was still something simmering under the surface. Something that had made your legs clamp around Ransom at some point and now wouldn’t let him go. “I– I need–“ you tried to explain to him, but the words wouldn’t string together.
Ransom quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk turned dirty. “You need more, baby?” he asked, voice low. “It’s okay. You can tell me what you need, what you want.”
You felt your face heating up. Your eyes wanted to slip closed, to avoid the way he was looking at you, but you forced them to stay open. “I want–“ You tried to put what you were feeling into words, but everything just felt clumsy. You tried again, summing it up as best you could. “I want you.”
The smile that bloomed on Ransom’s face—you weren’t sure you’d ever seen it before. Cocky and hungry and happy, all rolled together. “I want you, too,” he said softly as he dipped his head down to kiss you, tender and eager with a thread of filth that you wanted to follow. But he broke it off too soon. “Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed, and he kissed you again. His hand landed gently between your thighs, one and then two fingers working their way inside of you. They were big and thick as they spread you, but they weren’t enough. “Ransom,” you whined, “I need– That’s not–“
“Hey, I know,” he cooed softly, still working you open with his fingers, “I’m just making sure that orgasm got you ready to take me. I want it to feel good.”
Suddenly you felt self-conscious; he’d already done so much for and to you, and you hadn’t even offered to do anything for him in return. You reached for his length. “I can help get you ready, too,” you said, a little embarrassed.
Ransom laughed, his head thrown back, but it wasn’t mean; it wasn’t judging. It was warm and playful. “Babe, I’m harder than a fucking diamond right now. I don’t need a goddamn thing to get me ready for you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said with a grin. “You’re so hot like this. Your taste on my lips and the thought of your warm pussy are all I need to get me going. You ready too? You comfortable?”
You flopped back down, giving in to your body and what it was telling you. “Yes, I– Yes.”
That was all it took for him to kiss you again, his body fully covering your own, taking special care to keep his weight off your stomach, as he carefully slid his fingers out of you. You whined at the emptiness, but the shortest moment later he was lining himself up and slowly filling you with his cock.
On instinct, or maybe out of habit, your eyes slammed closed, retreating inside yourself as you felt your insides stretch to try to accommodate him. But before you got very far, you were brought back by a hand, Ransom’s hand, squeezing yours gently.
“Hey, open your eyes,” he directed softly. You did, immediately, and found his blue gaze boring into you. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “You can be here, right now. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”
You took a deep breath and nodded. You believed him. You trusted him. As he bottomed out inside of you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. For a long moment neither of you moved, and all you could feel was his cock spreading you open and his stuttered breaths on your neck. And then he shifted so that his forehead touched yours and his lips brushed your lips as he said, “Fucking shit. You feel so fucking good. Tell me– Please tell me I can move. Goddamn.”
“Ransom, please, yes, please,” tumbled out of you as you felt so full you thought you might lose your mind. And it only got worse as he began to rock in and out of you. “Ransom, Ransom,” you chanted, your arms still wrapped around him. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, and you felt electricity flow through you where he touched you.
He shifted his hips and hit a spot inside of you that had a cry suddenly tearing through you. “Yeah?” he asked with a proud grin. “Right there?”
“Please, yes, yes, yes,” you babbled as he kept hitting it and you were climbing again, up and up and up and–
“Let go,” he whispered in your ear, as his thumb began to press insistent circles on your clit, “go ahead. I’ve got you. I want to see it again.”
One more thrust and you did what he asked, sailing over the edge, shaking apart as you gripped him tightly to you.
“Goddammit, look at you, you’re so beautiful. You feel so fucking good,” he babbled as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Holy fuck,” he growled as he joined you not long after, filling you up and holding you tight.
The two of you stayed collapsed on the bed in a heap, just breathing heavily into each other’s necks. After several long moments, Ransom tried to move, but you couldn’t figure out how to move your limbs to let him go. “Hey,” he assured you softly, “I just want to get us cleaned up.”
“Not yet,” you whispered. “Just– Not yet.”
“Yeah, okay. Okay,” he soothed you, dropping his body back down so that he blanketed you again.
Focused on Ransom’s breathing, you slowly came back to yourself. Once the high of your orgasms slowly ebbed away, you couldn’t explain the loss you felt. You knew, intellectually, that it was probably all hormones, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a profound grief for everything that may have been. You were crying, you realized, too late to try to be able to hide it. And it wouldn’t have made a difference. Ransom was watching you too closely to not pick up on every little nuance.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything. I’m okay. I’m good.”
“But something’s wrong?” His hand was tentatively running up and down your arm now, doing what he could to soothe you without knowing the cause.
“No, not really. I– I just–“ You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying harder. “I just didn’t know it could be like that. I wish it had always been like that.”
“Oh,” he said softly, under his breath, shifting so that he was no longer on top of you but still touching you with as much of his body as he could.
“And I know, I know that that’s all my fault. I know that I pushed and I pushed and– But I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.” A fresh wave of tears came, and you didn’t object as Ransom pulled you closer to him so that you could bury your face in his chest.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. You were very scared, and we didn’t know each other. It wasn’t your fault.” He didn’t say anything else as he rubbed your back and let you cry it out.
After a few minutes, you pulled away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining the mood. It really was so good. You made me feel so good.”
That got the return of his cocky smirk. “Yeah? It sure seemed like you enjoyed it.” Then his smile softened significantly. “You made me feel good, too.”
“Oh?” You ducked your head, suddenly shy. “That’s, that’s good. I’m glad. I want to– I want to do more. Next time. I want to learn what you like.”
“Next time, huh?” he grinned. “Yeah, we’ve got lots of next times in front of us. If you want. Plenty of time to learn about each other.”
You scooted closer to him, to cuddle into his warmth. “Yeah? That sounds really nice.”
“It will be,” he said definitively, wrapping an arm around you.
You were both quiet for a long time, just enjoying this peace together, when he stiffened a little bit and shifted. You looked up at his face to find him looking thoughtful, hesitant. Without thinking, you reached up to smooth out the furrow between his brows with your thumb. “What are you thinking about?”
He grimaced, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I, uh– Shit. I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?” you asked.
“Asking for something I want. Even admitting that I want something I don’t already have.”
“What are you talking about?” You felt like you’d missed part of a conversation he’d been having with himself.
He sighed, put out, then mumbled, “I want you to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, a little confused.
“No, I mean–“ he sighed again and then turned onto his back so that he was no longer looking you in the eye. “I want you to stay here, in this room. I want it to be ours. I don’t want you to sleep across the hall anymore. And when we move into the new house, I want us both to be in the primary suite. I want it to be ours. I want everything to be ours.”
You could feel how big and round your eyes had gotten. “Oh,” was all you could say. But really, why were you so surprised? The part of you that believed that people only kept you around because they had to, that Ransom would rather have his life go back to normal but was stuck with you, had been getting quieter and quieter every day. Your husband had shown you how untrue that was in countless ways. So why couldn’t this be true too?
But Ransom seemed to take your shocked silence as resistance, so he kept going. “I know you want your own space, and I’m not saying that room has to go back to my gym, or– Or– It can still be yours. But I just– I miss you in my bed. Lola too, the little blanket-hogging jerk. I’m tired of sleeping alone. I miss you.”
Tears were pricking at your eyes again, but this time they were good tears. They were tears of feeling so wanted, and wanting right back. They were tears of belonging.
“Please say something,” Ransom whispered, finally turning back to look at you. And he looked so scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of being rejected. Scared of a life lived separately.
“Of course,” you whispered back. “Of course, I will, Ransom. I’d love to.”
And he seemed so young when he beamed at you in response. So hopeful. “Thank you,” he breathed, and kissed you on the forehead, because that was the part of you he could reach first. “Thank you,” he said again, and then pulled you into a soft, grateful kiss.
They've worked so hard and they're finally here! On the same page emotionally and able to really talk through the things they want and need. It made me so happy to finally get to write them like this.
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, regular sexism, explicit language, references to trauma, pregnancy, terrible parents, more en dashes than you would ever believe - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Okay. Wait. Listen. Listen. Yes, the angst came back. I couldn't help myself. The story needed it!!! Please don't come after me. I promise everything will be okay!
Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91, who, trust me, has already yelled at me about the angst. But then she encouraged me anyway. You're the best, Chelsea!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
Ransom came home from work to find you leaning on the kitchen island, staring at your darkened phone screen. He picked up Lola from where she was dancing around his feet and carried her over to you. You looked up at him and smiled, but it felt a little strained. Still, you powered through. “How was your day?” you asked.
“Fine,” he said, watching you carefully while he absently pet Lola. “How was yours? Are you alright?”
You nodded quickly. “It was fine.”
He immediately raised a brow at that. “You sure?” he asked with a nod to how tightly you were still gripping your phone.
You forced yourself to let it go, gently setting it on the counter. “My mom called,” you conceded.
His hand immediately moved from Lola to your back, not moving. Just a steady presence there. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.
You nodded again. “They’re—uh, she and Joseph—they’re coming here next week. Want to see us.”
“Oh. They aren’t going to stay with us, are they?” He sounded a little alarmed at the prospect, which made you smile.
“No, definitely not. Joseph will find the nicest suite in Boston, I’m sure.”
Ransom gave you a small smile. “A man after my own heart,” he joked.
You couldn’t quite join him. “Sure,” you shrugged.
His hand on your back became firmer. “Will it be nice,” he asked softly, “to see your mom?”
You took a deep breath. “Is it stupid if I say I miss her?” you asked quietly instead of answering him.
“No,” he said immediately. Firmly. “I can’t relate. But it’s definitely not stupid.”
You finally turned your body to him. “She’s really excited about the baby. That she gets to be a grandma.”
“That’s good,” he said, his hand on your back moving to your stomach, seemingly involuntarily. Like a magnet. That’s how it’d been for the last couple of weeks. Since you’d kissed. Since you’d talked. Otherwise, not much had changed in how he acted. Kisses when he left in the morning and usually when he got home. Or before he and you parted ways to go to your own bedrooms at night. He was taking things slowly. Presumably following your lead. But his hands. His hands always found you.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“How long will they be here?”
“Really just a day, I think. They want to have dinner with us. And Joseph wants to set up at least eighteen holes with you.”
Ransom’s hand shrank back from you, a look of horror on his face. “He wants to golf?!”
You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Why?”
“Because technically you’re his son-in-law. And I’m sure he’ll have some deal or something he’ll want to talk over with you too.”
He rolled his eyes. “I fucking hate golf.”
“That’s fine,” you shrugged. “He’ll expect to win anyway.”
He looked affronted at that. “I didn’t say I was bad at it! Just that it’s a stupid way to waste your time.”
You sighed. “Well, can you do it for one afternoon? Just to make my life easier?”
He gave you a considering look. “You hate him?” he asked.
“I do,” you said, very quietly.
“Alright,” he said with a decisive nod. “I’ll play a fucking round of golf. And I’ll demolish him.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on your face. “Sure, Ransom,” you said fondly. You doubted it. Joseph golfed more than he worked. But the sentiment was really nice.
He took a step back into your space. The arm that wasn’t holding Lola wrapped around your waist. “You okay with them coming here? Really?”
And you knew, in that moment, that if you said “No,” he would figure out a way to keep them as far away from you as he could. Warmth bloomed in your chest. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that he cared. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’ll be good to see my mom.”
“Okay,” he said, with a shockingly gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I can tolerate golf with Joseph for an afternoon.”
You woke up early the morning your mother was visiting. You had too much nervous energy to sleep. So you got up, took care of Lola, and started making breakfast for yourself and Ransom.
Your mom was going to come spend the day with you at the house, and then you’d go to the country club together to meet Joseph and Ransom for dinner after they were done golfing. Spending the entire day with her would be good. It would.
Ransom didn’t comment when he got up and found you already in the kitchen. He just kept you company as you cooked. He seemed to understand that you needed the silence filled, so he told you about what he expected his work day to include. A new author coming in, a probable fight with Walt, paperwork he’d been putting off. He didn’t make any mention of the time he’d be spending with Joseph this afternoon, and you were grateful. You were anxious enough already.
Too soon, you were both done with breakfast, and Ransom had gone back upstairs to finish getting ready. The doorbell sounded, and you took a deep breath before answering it.
Your mother stood on the front step, looking put together but maybe as nervous as you were. And frail. She looked very frail. She smiled at the sight of you, as big as she had ever managed. Despite all of the feelings that always swirled around inside of you when you thought of her, you smiled too. And then you threw your arms around her in a big hug.
You hugged her as tightly as you thought she could handle, as you breathed in the familiar floral notes of the perfume Joseph always got her for her birthday. And she hugged you back, her face pressed close.
“Oh honey, I’ve missed you so much,” she said softly.
“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” you replied. And you meant it. Eventually, you pulled away. “Did you have breakfast at your hotel? Can I make you something?” you asked as you ushered her into the house.
“Oh no, you don’t need to do that. We had a nice spread at the hotel. But if you wanted to share a pot of tea, I wouldn’t say n-“
The sound of footsteps hit the stairs, and your mom stopped talking immediately. You watched as her eyes tracked Ransom as he came down. Her body curled inward, just a bit, somehow making herself look even smaller than normal. “Ransom,” you called to him once he was in the room, wanting to break the strange tension that had suddenly filled the space. “You remember my mom, Lydia.”
Ransom stopped short, right next to you. A vague look of surprise on his face. He quickly schooled his expression into something much more neutral, and you made a mental note to ask him about it later. “Yes, of course,” he said, taking a step forward but stopping when she took a small step back. “It’s lovely to see you. I hope you got here alright.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
She didn’t say anything else. An uneasy silence settled over all three of you. You tried to catch your mom’s eye, see if she was okay, but she couldn't keep her wary gaze off of Ransom.
“Well,” Ransom finally spoke, as awkward as you’d ever heard him, “I should get going.” He turned to you, one hand immediately going to your bump. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, lowly, just for you.
You ducked your head with a shy smile at his care and nodded. His other hand came up to briefly caress your cheek as he gave you a small peck on the lips. Then he grabbed his work bag and headed out the door, calling out behind him, “I hope you have a good day together. I’ll see you both at dinner.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, you could feel your mom’s relief. You took a step towards her. “Mom, are you–“
“This is such a lovely home,” she said, stepping past you to look into the living room.
You blinked after her, trying to track what was happening. “Oh, um, thank you. We’re actually moving soon, though. Before the baby comes. We found a house we both really like.”
She looked at you, surprised. “He let you help decide?”
There was something about the question that made your heart crack, just a little. You weren’t sure yet who for. “Yeah, Mom. We discussed what we wanted. We’ll both be living there, after all.”
She opened her mouth to respond before she was distracted by Lola running into the room and jumping up onto the couch. “Oh!” your mom exclaimed. “I didn’t know you still had your little dog!”
You did your best to ignore the implication of that—that she’d assumed Ransom would make you give her up—and went to Lola to scratch behind her ears. “Of course, I do. Lola goes wherever I go, don’t you, baby?”
You looked up to find your mom staring at you, her expression tricky to read. There was relief there, first and foremost, but something else you couldn't quite decipher. After a very long pause, she said very quietly, “He must be very fond of you.”
All you could do was blink at her for a moment. Then, “Yes, I think so. I think– We’re fond of each other. We get along well.” It felt strange to talk about your relationship this way. It felt so new and– and delicate. And yours. You didn’t know how to talk about it with someone who hadn’t been there for the whole thing.
“He really isn’t so bad?” she asked with a hopeful tinge to her voice.
“No,” you said, “he’s not so bad at all. Now that I’ve gotten to know him.”
And at that, her body sagged. Like she’d finally released a breath she’d been holding for the last eight months. Her eyes were watery when she looked you in the eyes and said, her voice shaking a little, “That’s good. That’s so good.”
You took a step towards her and held out one hand. “Mom,” you asked, “are you alright?”
“Of course,” she said, too quickly, with a wobbly smile. “I’m just so happy to see you.”
“Yeah,” you said, but kept a careful eye on her. “Me too, Mom.”
You were able to busy yourself for a few minutes by preparing a few mugs of herbal tea for both of you before you settled on the couch in the living room with her.
Once you were seated, she put a hesitant hand on your stomach with a soft smile. “You’re glowing,” she said. “Is everything going well with the baby so far?”
“Yeah, I think so. The doctor doesn’t have any concerns right now. And they’ve started moving. It’s wild to think that there’s an actual person growing in there. I’m really looking forward to meeting them. And I think Ransom’s getting excited too.”
Her smile shifted a little. “Men are always excited to meet their sons.” And at that, you couldn’t help the way your smile dropped. Your mom noticed, of course. “Have you found out the baby’s sex yet?”
You turned away some as you shook your head. “No,” you said very quietly. “That appointment’s next week.”
“Do you have a feeling either way?” your mother asked urgently.
“No,” you lied. Of course, you had an inkling. One that had been growing stronger every day. But you hadn’t dared voice that feeling yet. It was too terrifying. “I have no idea. I just want them to be safe and healthy.”
“Sweetheart,” she placed a hand on yours, demanding your attention. “That– No, you can’t afford to think that way. You need to be prepared in case the worst happens.”
“The worst?” you asked, voice small, unable to look at her.
“There’s no greater heartbreak than having a daughter.”
You almost gasped, the words hitting you right in your chest, deep and sharp. You couldn’t help the way your hands came up to cradle your stomach, wanting to protect the person inside if you couldn't protect yourself. “Mom,” you whispered, torn apart.
“Honey, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But– But men want sons. Especially for the first one. They need heirs. And you and your children won’t be truly safe until you give Ransom an heir. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You must remember what it was like when your father died without an heir.”
“I–“ you started, but came up short. Your earliest memories were all a blur. You remembered feelings. Fear of your father. And then panic after he died. But nothing specific.
“It was the scariest time of my life. Even scarier than when I first married him. Because he died without an heir, because I hadn’t given him one, everything reverted back to his family. And my family wouldn’t take us back. You and I, we had nothing. Honey, I didn’t know where we were going to sleep or how I was going to feed you. I was so terrified. If I’d had a son, none of that would have happened. And I tried, after you were born, I tried so hard to give your father what he wanted. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him another child, a son, so when he died, I had to do everything I could to find someone else to take care of us. We’re so lucky that Joseph was willing to take us in, that he already had an heir, and that he didn’t need that from me. He saved us.
“I don’t want any of that for you. Ransom is fond of you. That’s good. He’ll forgive you if this baby isn’t a boy. But if it isn’t, you need to try to have a son again as soon as you can. You can’t hesitate. You never know what might happen.”
“Mom, please–“
She gripped your hands tightly, “I know this is difficult to hear, but you need to listen to me. This is so important. I don’t want you to go through what I went through. I want a better life for you. Do you understand?”
You swallowed harshly. She was looking at you with such desperation that for a long moment all you could do was nod. You believed Ransom when he said he cared about you, cared about this baby. But you’d also seen previously doting husbands turn cold when their hope of an heir, their legacy, came unfulfilled. As painful as it was, your mother was right. You couldn’t afford to ignore everything that was at stake here.
“Yes, Mom,” you finally answered, voice rough. “I understand.”
She exhaled in relief as her grip on your hands lessened but didn’t disappear. “Honey, even though you weren’t the heir your father wanted, I was so happy when I finally got to meet you. I didn’t have to be alone anymore. You’ve always been the greatest joy of my life. And no matter what happens, this baby will be that for you too. You’re going to be such a wonderful mother. I just know it.”
You blinked back the tears threatening to spill over your lashes. Your heart was breaking for numerous reasons you couldn’t even name. You moved one hand from her grasp and used it to gently cradle your stomach. “I hope so,” you said, too quietly. “I want to be good for them.”
“You will be,” she said, with one final, loving pat to your hand. Then she reached for her tea and began to ask you about your new house. And you tried to pretend like everything was fine.
You got to the restaurant at the country club feeling raw and anxious. You’d wanted to enjoy your day with your mom, but her words from this morning were hanging over your head.
Ransom and Joseph were already at the table. Ransom with a shit-eating grin on his face while Joseph looked thunderous. Ransom stood to greet you as soon as you were at the table, with a gentle kiss on your cheek. With a wary eye towards Joseph, you asked, “How was the golf?”
Ransom’s grin got even bigger. “I think it went pretty well!” he said, surprisingly brightly, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Especially for my very first time. I won by three strokes!”
“Goddamn beginner’s luck,” Joseph grumbled under his breath from his side of the table, where your mom was already sitting stiffly next to him. He barely acknowledged her.
You looked back at Ransom, slightly confused. Just last week he’d told you he was an experienced golfer. At his subtle wink, you had to work hard to stifle your laughter. You couldn’t think of anything that would piss off Joseph more than being beaten by a supposed beginner.
“How was your day together?” Ransom asked as he pulled out your chair for you.
“It was nice,” you said. And parts of it were. The little girl inside you would always be happy to see your mom. Even if every flinch, every sigh, every piece of advice felt like a dire warning for the life you could have, the person you could become if you weren’t very, very careful. You smiled over at her, and she smiled back, even if it was a little fragile.
Joseph rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Lydia’s been very excited to see you. Hopefully she got all that chattering out of her system.”
And just like that, your mom shrank back down, like she was trying to take up as little space at this table as possible. Joseph saved us. Your mother’s words from that morning echoed in your head. Had the cost been worth it? Had any of this ever been worth it?
Ransom leaned forward. “She’s been really looking forward to your visit, too.” He said to your mother, sincerely. “I hope it was a really good day.”
She looked up at him briefly before looking away again. “Yes, it was,” she said very softly. “Thank you.”
You reached under the table and grabbed Ransom’s hand. He didn’t react, but he gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze.
Joseph spent most of the dinner only talking to Ransom, which was honestly fine with you. You tried to engage your mom in conversation on your end of the table, but now that the two of you were no longer alone, she didn’t have much to say. Her eyes kept darting nervously to where the men were talking.
You didn’t catch what prompted it, but your attention was caught when Joseph laughed, “You’ll feel differently once your own son is born in a few months!”
Your son your son your son
But this baby isn’t a boy something inside you responded with a certainty you could not have. There was no way to know that. There was no reason to be so sure.
You were too busy spiraling to catch if and how Ransom responded. But then Joseph turned to you and captured all of your attention. “And look at you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone slick and smug and awful, “you’re glowing. Don’t you feel silly for the scene you made that night? I told you it was just cold feet.”
Your heart lurched at his words. You didn’t have to pause to try to remember what he was talking about. That awful night when you’d gone to the man who’d raised you since you were six years old and begged him to have a shred of humanity and not all but sell you to a stranger. The night your step-father had laughed at you and patronized you and turned you away. The night your entire world had come crashing down and this man who was supposed to be your family hadn’t cared.
You knew you should say something. You knew you should stand up for yourself, but all you could do was choke on the words as you felt yourself going back in time. As you remembered how completely terrified you’d been.
Ransom went completely still next to you, still holding your hand under the table. “Cold feet?” he asked, his head tilting dangerously. “What are you talking about?”
Joseph seemed to be the only one who hadn’t noticed how tense the atmosphere had gotten. He chuckled. “Oh, she came to me after your first dinner. Fussing about the pregnancy clause. She begged me not to make her go through with the arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “I told her she was being ridiculous, of course. That there was a lot more riding on this than some silly girl’s nerves over being a mother. And look at her now! I was right. Everything worked out fine.”
Ransom got very, very quiet. The only part of him that moved was a muscle in his jaw that ticked angrily. You squeezed his hand under the table, unsure of what he was going to do. And equally unsure if you wanted to stop him or not.
But before anyone else could say anything, your mom rushed in, her voice panicked and urgent, even as she tried to keep her tone light. “Oh, no, but– But she didn’t mean anything by it! All girls get nervous! It’s normal! It wasn’t anything against you! She just– She– She–“
“My god, Lydia,” Joseph interrupted. “What are you babbling about?”
Your mom went silent, but her eyes stayed on Ransom, desperate, pleading.
You felt Ransom take a deep breath and force his body to relax. He leaned across the table to your mom and said, voice calm and reassuring. “I would never be upset with her for being scared. I promise.” But as he turned from her to Joseph, you watched his face turn to stone. “But I can’t imagine ever turning away my own child if they were that scared of something.”
“It isn’t like she’s my actual child,” Joseph scoffed. “And she was overreacting, being dramatic. Everything turned out fine!”
Ransom’s eyes narrowed as he hummed in thought. “You think you’d be a little more grateful to her, considering the fact that you’ve been trying to get the rights to Harlan’s works for decades without any luck. The only thing that made the deal go through this time was the fact that her addition finally made the pot sweet enough. So it might be a good idea to remember, if I were you, that the one thing holding together the only significant rights deal your flagging studio has had in years is the woman sitting next to me. Just a thought.” And then, just like that, he went back to eating his steak, like nothing had happened. But the hand holding yours shifted so that he could thread your fingers together.
You were quiet on the car ride home. Saying goodbye to your mom had been difficult, even as much as you were ready for your life to go back to normal, whatever that might be. She’d hugged you so tight. You hadn’t wanted to let go.
You were leaning your head against the window, watching the world go by in the dark, when Ransom cleared his throat. “And I thought Linda was a piece of work.” His attempt at humor hung in the air awkwardly. You didn’t say anything or turn to look at him. You were too tired.
“Sorry,” he said after another few long, silent moments. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you said into the window. “I’m fine.” You knew he hated that word, but you didn’t know what else to say.
It was quiet as Ransom merged onto the highway, and then he tried again. “How old was your mom when she had you?”
That finally got you to turn your head. “What?”
He glanced over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “She was a lot younger than I expected.”
You gave him a confused look. “You met her before, didn’t you? At the wedding.”
He sighed and looked at you again. “That was a hard day. There was a lot that never really registered,” he answered, somewhat sheepishly. “And so today, I was surprised. I expected someone older.”
You hummed thoughtfully. “She was twenty with me.”
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “And your dad?” he asked, like he didn’t really want to know the answer.
You shrugged, shrinking in on yourself, just a bit. “I don’t know. I was really little, and– I don’t know. Old enough to have a heart attack, I guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ransom muttered to himself again.
He didn’t say anything else, but you were finally ready to talk. You had too many words swirling around in your head to be able to stop them from tumbling out of your mouth. “She was really afraid of you. Did you notice that?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. “Really scared. At first, I thought it was so weird. She doesn’t really know you, why would– And then I wondered if maybe she was just afraid of all men. Given her track record– But tonight, during dinner, it clicked. She’s afraid of you because if you got upset about anything, you could take it out on me. That’s what had her terrified. And then I realized, all the advice and the ‘just keep him happy’ and the letting me learn how to cook and how to dance and, and– She thinks she’s protecting me. And she is. I guess. In the only way she knows how. And I want to be grateful for it. I– I do. I am. Maybe. But, god, she still handed me the pen!”
“What pen?” Ransom asked, and you suddenly realized that you weren’t just exorcising your turbulent thoughts into the ether but having a real conversation. With your husband.
You swallowed hard, trying to will yourself to stay in the present instead of hurtling back in time to that awful day that started everything. “When they first showed me the contract for our marriage. When they made me sign it. She’s the one who handed me the pen. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
Ransom didn’t say anything. He didn’t even take his eyes off the road. But he took his right hand off the steering wheel and extended it over the gear shaft to cover both of your hands in your lap. And he maybe didn’t know what to say, but this– It was enough.
A week later, you could tell Ransom was concerned as you walked into the clinic together. You knew why. You’d been quiet all day. Nauseous. Today was the day it could all fall apart.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked as you sat in the waiting room.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quietly.
That just seemed to worry him more. “Are you sure? Did you eat today?”
“Yes, Ransom, I did,” you lied. “I said I was fine.”
“Is it the baby? They’re healthy, I’m sure. It’s going to be alright.”
You almost laughed in his face. This appointment was not going to be all right. That, you knew for certain. Instead, you just said, “Yes, I know, Ransom,” unable to keep the irritation out of your tone.
He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel him watching you until your name was finally called.
The appointment was going fine. The baby was healthy, a good size. Everything looked the way it was supposed to. You wished you could take comfort in that.
Ransom was staring at the screen of the ultrasound. “Wow,” he said, his voice full of awe and a soft smile on his face. “They’re starting to look like an actual baby.” He looked to you, to share in it, and you found it easier than you expected to smile back. He was so happy. You had to savor it. Especially since you were so scared that he’d no longer be looking at you like that in just a few minutes.
Sooner than you were ready for, Dr. Patel said the words you’d been dreading. “So,” she asked with a grin, “are we learning the sex of the baby today?”
Ransom’s smile got even bigger, eager. “Yea–“
“No!” You interrupted, too loud, too fast. This hadn’t been your plan, but the panic had overtaken you, and you were operating purely on instinct now. “No, we don’t want to find out!”
“What?” Ransom’s shock may have gotten to you if your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears.
“We don’t want to find out,” you repeated, urgently, shaking your head too hard.
He was staring at you. They both were. But you couldn’t do anything about it. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
That got a little easier when your husband finally turned his attention away from you. “Could you give us a minute?”
“Of course,” she said with a tight smile. Then everyone but you and Ransom left the room.
At first, Ransom didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, his thumb sweeping across it in soothing arcs. After a few minutes, his voice impossibly soft, he started a steady tide of comforting murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay, honey. You’re alright. You’re safe. Everything’s okay. Just breathe with me, honey. I’m right here with you. You’re okay.”
You closed your eyes, letting yourself be comforted by it, even if you knew it couldn’t last. After several minutes of that, you’d calmed down enough for him to attempt a real conversation. “I guess we probably should have talked about it first,” he said, keeping that same impossibly soft tone, “but I assumed you’d be excited to find out. I’m really excited to find out.”
At that, you tried to close your eyes even tighter, tears leaking out from the force of it, falling down your cheeks.
His thumb paused, for just a beat, then continued to sweep across your skin. “Honey. Please look at me. It’s okay, I promise. I just want you to look at me.” It took all the strength in you, but after a long moment, you forced your eyes open and finally looked at Ransom. His expression was terribly worried, but he let out a small breath in relief once he could see your eyes. “Okay, can you tell me why that was the wrong thing to say?”
This was the last conversation you wanted to have, but you knew you had no choice, so you powered through as best you could. “You’re excited to find out this baby’s your heir. That’s what you’re excited for.”
“What?” The worry on his face was replaced with sheer confusion. “Honey, I don’t give a shit if this baby’s my heir.”
“Yes, you do,” you countered, voice firm. “You might not know that you do, but you do. All men do, whether you realize it or not.” He opened his mouth to reply, but you kept going before he was able to get any words out. “And I’m not upset with you for that. I’m not. I understand. And I’m not afraid you’ll do something to me if they aren’t the boy you want. I know you won’t. I trust you. I know you’ll even still try to love this baby, but… I just– I just can’t see the disappointment on your face when you find out. I just can’t. I think it will break my heart completely, and I– Maybe it’ll be better if you find out when they’re born. Maybe it’ll be harder to be disappointed when there’s a real baby in your arms instead of just the idea of one. Maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll still be upset. But I just can’t see your disappointment today. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
Ransom was very quiet for a long time. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t have anything else to say. You just stared at his hand, still holding yours. Finally, he spoke, his voice surprisingly rough. “You know, there’s a lot I’ve been thinking about lately. A lot of things I’m really worried about. One of the biggest ones is the idea of a little me running around. I was a pretty terrible kid. An awful teenager. A shit twenty-something. I think of a son, and I think of all of the mistakes I’ve ever made. I worry that he won’t be able to escape them. But you know what doesn’t worry me? The thought of a little you. Beautiful. Kind. Funny. Unbelievably brave. That’s who I see when I close my eyes and imagine our child.” He paused, thoughtful, and squeezed your hand. “Either way, the thing I most want for this baby is that they have all the best parts of you and none of the worst parts of me. That’s what’s most important to me. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it.”
You felt another wave of tears fall down your face. Later, maybe you’d be able to tell him all the ways you hoped your child was just like him, all the things of his that you wanted them to inherit, but for now, all you could say was, “You mean it?”
“Yes,” he said, so solemnly, looking you dead in the eyes. “I mean it.”
You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you whispered, not able to get any louder.
“Yeah? Okay? Should we let Dr Patel back in? Are you ready to find out?”
You took another deep breath. And then another. And then you nodded. At least now you would know for sure. Either way.
The doctor and the tech came back in. More gel was squeezed onto your stomach. The baby’s placement was found again. The wand maneuvered around. And then, with a careful smile, a little wary of the news she was about to deliver, Dr. Patel said, “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”
Your breath stopped again, and your eyes flew to Ransom. He was staring at you. A wide smile on his face. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “It’s okay?” you asked, voice shaking.
“It’s incredible,” he beamed, placing a happy kiss against your forehead. “It’s absolutely incredible.”
Exhaling a breath you felt like you’d been holding for weeks, you finally let yourself let go of some of your worry, just for now, and feel the same joy he felt. You smiled back at him. It was incredible. You were having a girl.
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst!! age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, pregnancy, smut (oral - f receiving, p in v) more en dashes than you would ever believe - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: I really hope you guys love this one as much as I do. It's been a long time coming.
A huge thanks as always to @paperweight91, who had to give me her annual "You can actually write smut," pep talk. I couldn't do it without you, Chelsea!!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me!!! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
All you could hear was a baby, somewhere, screaming.
You’d just been at the interior designer’s office to drop off some samples of what you wanted for the new house. Then when you’d driven past a cute little baby boutique, you’d made the driver stop, and you’d done a little impulsive shopping. Ransom’s excitement for your little girl was infectious, and you’d been trying to let yourself indulge in it in order to stave off the anxiety of all the things that could happen now that your husband didn’t have an heir. So you’d returned with a couple of small shopping bags in hand.
But you stopped short when you got in the door and were met with that sonic wall of screaming. But as you looked around, there were no guests, no one unexpected, no source of the sound. The lower floor was empty aside from Ransom sitting on the couch, Lola held firmly on his lap as he gently petted her.
“What’s going on?” you shouted across the room.
Ransom jumped slightly, not having realized you were home, then scrambled for his phone. Immediately, the noise, blessedly, stopped. “Sorry,” he said, blushing a little, and for the first time you were pretty sure you were seeing Ransom self-conscious. “Lola and I have been working on getting used to the sounds of a baby when you aren’t around. Google says it’s a good way to prepare your dog.”
You didn’t try to stop the warm smile you felt taking over your face. “Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”
He let her off his lap, and she scampered over to you. “She’s doing good. Making a lot of progress. It isn’t so scary anymore, is it?”
Lola looked up at you and wagged her tail. “Good job, baby,” you said to her as you put down your bags and picked her up. “What else does Google say?”
“Uh,” Ransom scratched the back of his neck. He was embarrassed by how much work and thought he’d put into this. It made your heart melt. “We should be getting her used to the new smells too, so letting her sniff anything we buy for the baby. And we should introduce any new routines or patterns right now. Get her used to being taken care of by both of us, not just you.”
“You already do a good job of that,” you said sincerely.
He shrugged. “I’m trying.” He bent down to look through your bags. “Speaking of new smells, what did you get?”
“Oh, I passed by a little baby store on my way home, so I decided to stop in and see what I could find.”
Ransom took out a pretty lilac onesie and a soft sage blanket. He carefully held them up for Lola to smell. “It’s so tiny,” he said softly, reverently smoothing his thumb over the onesie.
“Yeah,” you answered, moving your free hand to your bump, which was big enough now that you felt like you could barely call it that. “I think she’s going to be even teenier than we realize.”
Ransom delicately put the baby’s things back in the bag and moved both of his hands to your stomach. You felt the baby shift in response, the way she did right before she was about to start punching you. Ransom had yet to feel her, and you knew it was bothering him, so you grabbed one of his wrists and moved it a few inches to where she’d started to press against you. “She’s right there,” you whispered.
Ransom pressed his lips together in concentration, and then his brow furrowed in frustration. “I still can’t-“ She moved again, and he froze. “Wait,” he said, so quietly like he didn’t want to spook her, and she kicked again, almost in response. “That’s her?” he asked, breathless.
“Yeah,” you grinned, “that’s her.” And then, feeling like your heart was cracking wide open, you added, “She’s saying hi to her daddy.”
You felt his breath hitch through his hands on you. He looked up, tears in his eyes and a scared, happy, joyful smile on his face. He moved one hand up to your cheek while the other stayed pressed to the spot where your daughter was, and kissed you, soft and slow and happy. So, so happy.
You were sharing the couch with Ransom, both reading quietly with Lola snuggled between you, when it washed over you. This had happened a few times now. Heat coursing through your whole body. Need. Out of nowhere. You knew it was normal. You’d read about it in your books. But that didn’t make it any easier.
The last time you’d tried to take care of it yourself while Ransom was at work, but you’d discovered that your belly was now too big for you to reach around and get to your core, even with your vibrator. So you’d cried alone in your bed until it finally passed. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do that again.
You looked over at Ransom over your book. God, he was so beautiful. It still kind of made you mad, even after all this time. The way your feet were pulled up onto the couch, your toes just barely grazed his thigh. You moved back quickly. As much as every part of your body was screaming at you to crawl onto his lap and make him fuck you, you couldn’t actually do that. You didn’t even know if he wanted it. Plus, you were pretty sure that if he touched you, you’d actually explode.
At your movement, he looked up at you. “You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed the way it did anytime you displayed the slightest hint of discomfort or displeasure.
You smiled and hoped it didn’t come across as a grimace. “I’m fine, just a little uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to go get you another pillow? Would that help?”
You shook your head vigorously. “Nope! I’m fine. It’s fine. Just ignore me.” You took a deep, slow breath as the need got even worse.
And the way he was pinning you down with his gaze wasn’t helping. “You don’t seem like you’re uncomfortable. You seem like you’re in pain.” He reached a hand out to you, and you shrank back, knowing that if he touched you, you’d lose all semblance of control.
“It’s not pain, Ransom, I promise. Please. Please just drop it.” You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes as your whole body felt like it was about to catch fire.
“I’m not going to drop it if there’s something I can do to help,” he said firmly, and you wanted to scream.
“No, it’s– It’s fine, I just–“ You closed your eyes as you struggled to breathe normally. Finally, you gave up. He was worse than Steve; you weren’t going to be able to keep hiding this from him. “It’s the hormones. I just get really horny sometimes. Out of nowhere. And it’s awful, but it’ll pass.”
You felt the way he went completely still and opened your eyes. He was staring at you, a smirk on his face. “Well,” he said, and his voice had dropped at least an octave. It shot right through you. “That sounds like the exact sort of thing I can help with.”
“Ransom–“You shook your head, not sure of what to say. Not trusting yourself to say anything.
The smirk dropped off his face, and his eyes got serious. “Do you want me to help you with this?” he asked. And it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t sexy. It was a real question, and you knew that if you said no, he would leave you alone. Or maybe make you some tea. Find another way to help, to make you comfortable. But he wouldn’t touch you. And he wouldn’t keep asking.
Your eyes slipped closed again. “You don’t have to,” you answered, your voice small.
“Hey, look at me,” he commanded gently. You forced yourself to open your eyes, and he continued. “I know exactly what I do and don’t have to do. Do you want me to help you with this?”
With one more deep breath, you tried not to whine as you answered, “Yes. Please.”
And before the words had even fully left your mouth, he’d lunged across the couch and captured your lips in a deep, passionate, hungry kiss. It felt like he might eat you alive, and you wanted it. You wanted everything he could give you.
He had you flat on the couch, his body covering yours, even with your bump in the way. You took the opportunity when he came up for air to whine, “More. I– I–“
A gentle hand on your cheek grounded you. “I know, I know. I need you in my bed. Think you can get upstairs?”
A bed sounded nice with the way you were sagging off the couch. But you were also pretty sure that if he stopped touching you, you’d die. You clutched onto his wrist. “I think, but–“
“Yeah, I know,” he said, even as he peppered your neck with kisses, “I’ve got you.”
He helped you off the couch, never letting go of you. And as he moved you up the stairs, some part of him was always touching you. A hand wrapped around your wrist, another on your hip, his lips on the back of your neck.
Once in his bedroom, he stopped you before you could climb onto the bed. He kissed you again, breaking for just long enough to lift your t-shirt over your head and fling it behind him. One more kiss and then he was kneeling down beside you, working your leggings down your legs to the point you could kick them off your feet. Then, his hands moved reverently up your body—your ankles, your calves, your thighs—to your panties, which he pulled down with equal reverence. Then he continued moving up, placing a gentle kiss on your belly and then working to undo your bra. Once he’d freed your breasts, he took them in both hands as he buried his face in your neck.
“Ransom,” you whined, tugging on his shirt, as he still somehow had all of his clothes on. You needed them off. You needed them off right now.
You felt him grin into your neck, and then he pulled away enough that you could get his shirt off. You ran both hands up his stomach and chest. How was he fair? How was he yours? (Because he was now. He was he was he was.) You dropped your hands to undo his pants, but he stopped you, lifting them so he could kiss your knuckles. Then he very carefully laid you down on his bed, moving a pillow to support your lower back. He trailed kisses down your entire body before he stood back up and took the rest of his clothes off as fast as he possibly could.
Once he was finally naked, he paused for a moment at the foot of the bed, and you both just stared at each other. Even as you’d gotten to know him, gotten used to him, you’d never get used to the way he seemed like he was carved from marble. Or how his skin glowed. Or how–
“God, look at you,” his whisper interrupted your thoughts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” And then his hands were back on your body, spreading your legs so that he could slot himself between them. He hooked one ankle over his shoulder. “That feel okay?” he asked.
All you could do was nod, and he immediately returned his lips to you, working his way up your inner thigh. With a jolt, you realized what he meant to do, and you reached out an urgent hand to him. “You don’t have to–“ you started but were cut off when he turned back to you with a playful glare.
“What did I say about that?” he asked, his voice so low.
He’d gone back to kissing up your thigh, and you had to force yourself to take a breath, to unfog your mind, to remember what he said. “You said–” you paused with a gasp as his lips got so, so close to the center of you. “You said you already know what you do and don’t have to do.”
“That’s right,” he muttered into your thigh. “And I want to do this. I’m desperate to find out what you taste like.” Then he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. “But if you really don’t want me to, I won’t.” You took another breath and opened your mouth, even though you weren’t sure what your response would be. “But please, please, let me taste you, baby. I’ll stop if you hate it. I promise.”
“What if you hate it?” you asked, voice small, even as you were desperate to just finally say yes.
He laughed and sent you a dirty smirk. “I can guaran-fucking-tee that I won’t.”
Your body was burning up again, so with a small moan you finally let go. “Yes, please.”
And just like that, his mouth was on you. You threw your head back on a gasp, like all the air had been punched out of your body. Your hands bunched into the sheets on either side of your head as he lapped at you like a man starved. You felt his tongue moving between your folds, getting to know you, searching for your clit. The second he found it, your eyes slammed shut, your body spasmed, and you felt more than heard his pleased hum. He experimented with licks first, before he wrapped his tongue around it and gave it a hard suck. You couldn’t help the lewd moan you released, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.
You’d never felt anything like this. Not with the only other person you’d ever had sex with. And you’d certainly never let Ransom do anything like this before, not when getting pregnant had been the only goal and everything else had seemed like a waste of time. And definitely not by yourself. You’d never taken such care with yourself.
Your breaths were coming fast as you felt yourself climbing, climbing, climbing. A good, soft warmth was moving through your body as you felt his hands on your hips, firmly holding onto you. Keeping you from floating away. Your eyes slipped open; you weren’t sure why, but you were immediately met with Ransom’s intense gaze, locked on your face to take in every single nuance of your reaction. And the way he was looking at you, watching you…
That was what did it. That was what sent you over the edge. The way that he saw you. The look in his eyes. You came with a cry, your body shaking apart, only anchored by his hands on your hips, pinning you down to earth.
His mouth stayed on you through your whole orgasm and all the aftershocks. Drinking you up, like he couldn’t get enough. Then, slowly but surely, he began working his way back up you, his lips and hands moving in tandem as he traversed your whole body. Once he got to your neck, he nuzzled into you before meeting your eyes with a cocky smirk. “Feeling better?”
You tried to nod, but all of your bones were like jelly. And while the need inside of you was no longer so insistent, no longer hot enough to burn, there was still something simmering under the surface. Something that had made your legs clamp around Ransom at some point and now wouldn’t let him go. “I– I need–“ you tried to explain to him, but the words wouldn’t string together.
Ransom quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk turned dirty. “You need more, baby?” he asked, voice low. “It’s okay. You can tell me what you need, what you want.”
You felt your face heating up. Your eyes wanted to slip closed, to avoid the way he was looking at you, but you forced them to stay open. “I want–“ You tried to put what you were feeling into words, but everything just felt clumsy. You tried again, summing it up as best you could. “I want you.”
The smile that bloomed on Ransom’s face—you weren’t sure you’d ever seen it before. Cocky and hungry and happy, all rolled together. “I want you, too,” he said softly as he dipped his head down to kiss you, tender and eager with a thread of filth that you wanted to follow. But he broke it off too soon. “Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed, and he kissed you again. His hand landed gently between your thighs, one and then two fingers working their way inside of you. They were big and thick as they spread you, but they weren’t enough. “Ransom,” you whined, “I need– That’s not–“
“Hey, I know,” he cooed softly, still working you open with his fingers, “I’m just making sure that orgasm got you ready to take me. I want it to feel good.”
Suddenly you felt self-conscious; he’d already done so much for and to you, and you hadn’t even offered to do anything for him in return. You reached for his length. “I can help get you ready, too,” you said, a little embarrassed.
Ransom laughed, his head thrown back, but it wasn’t mean; it wasn’t judging. It was warm and playful. “Babe, I’m harder than a fucking diamond right now. I don’t need a goddamn thing to get me ready for you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said with a grin. “You’re so hot like this. Your taste on my lips and the thought of your warm pussy are all I need to get me going. You ready too? You comfortable?”
You flopped back down, giving in to your body and what it was telling you. “Yes, I– Yes.”
That was all it took for him to kiss you again, his body fully covering your own, taking special care to keep his weight off your stomach, as he carefully slid his fingers out of you. You whined at the emptiness, but the shortest moment later he was lining himself up and slowly filling you with his cock.
On instinct, or maybe out of habit, your eyes slammed closed, retreating inside yourself as you felt your insides stretch to try to accommodate him. But before you got very far, you were brought back by a hand, Ransom’s hand, squeezing yours gently.
“Hey, open your eyes,” he directed softly. You did, immediately, and found his blue gaze boring into you. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “You can be here, right now. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”
You took a deep breath and nodded. You believed him. You trusted him. As he bottomed out inside of you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. For a long moment neither of you moved, and all you could feel was his cock spreading you open and his stuttered breaths on your neck. And then he shifted so that his forehead touched yours and his lips brushed your lips as he said, “Fucking shit. You feel so fucking good. Tell me– Please tell me I can move. Goddamn.”
“Ransom, please, yes, please,” tumbled out of you as you felt so full you thought you might lose your mind. And it only got worse as he began to rock in and out of you. “Ransom, Ransom,” you chanted, your arms still wrapped around him. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, and you felt electricity flow through you where he touched you.
He shifted his hips and hit a spot inside of you that had a cry suddenly tearing through you. “Yeah?” he asked with a proud grin. “Right there?”
“Please, yes, yes, yes,” you babbled as he kept hitting it and you were climbing again, up and up and up and–
“Let go,” he whispered in your ear, as his thumb began to press insistent circles on your clit, “go ahead. I’ve got you. I want to see it again.”
One more thrust and you did what he asked, sailing over the edge, shaking apart as you gripped him tightly to you.
“Goddammit, look at you, you’re so beautiful. You feel so fucking good,” he babbled as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Holy fuck,” he growled as he joined you not long after, filling you up and holding you tight.
The two of you stayed collapsed on the bed in a heap, just breathing heavily into each other’s necks. After several long moments, Ransom tried to move, but you couldn’t figure out how to move your limbs to let him go. “Hey,” he assured you softly, “I just want to get us cleaned up.”
“Not yet,” you whispered. “Just– Not yet.”
“Yeah, okay. Okay,” he soothed you, dropping his body back down so that he blanketed you again.
Focused on Ransom’s breathing, you slowly came back to yourself. Once the high of your orgasms slowly ebbed away, you couldn’t explain the loss you felt. You knew, intellectually, that it was probably all hormones, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a profound grief for everything that may have been. You were crying, you realized, too late to try to be able to hide it. And it wouldn’t have made a difference. Ransom was watching you too closely to not pick up on every little nuance.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything. I’m okay. I’m good.”
“But something’s wrong?” His hand was tentatively running up and down your arm now, doing what he could to soothe you without knowing the cause.
“No, not really. I– I just–“ You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying harder. “I just didn’t know it could be like that. I wish it had always been like that.”
“Oh,” he said softly, under his breath, shifting so that he was no longer on top of you but still touching you with as much of his body as he could.
“And I know, I know that that’s all my fault. I know that I pushed and I pushed and– But I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.” A fresh wave of tears came, and you didn’t object as Ransom pulled you closer to him so that you could bury your face in his chest.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. You were very scared, and we didn’t know each other. It wasn’t your fault.” He didn’t say anything else as he rubbed your back and let you cry it out.
After a few minutes, you pulled away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining the mood. It really was so good. You made me feel so good.”
That got the return of his cocky smirk. “Yeah? It sure seemed like you enjoyed it.” Then his smile softened significantly. “You made me feel good, too.”
“Oh?” You ducked your head, suddenly shy. “That’s, that’s good. I’m glad. I want to– I want to do more. Next time. I want to learn what you like.”
“Next time, huh?” he grinned. “Yeah, we’ve got lots of next times in front of us. If you want. Plenty of time to learn about each other.”
You scooted closer to him, to cuddle into his warmth. “Yeah? That sounds really nice.”
“It will be,” he said definitively, wrapping an arm around you.
You were both quiet for a long time, just enjoying this peace together, when he stiffened a little bit and shifted. You looked up at his face to find him looking thoughtful, hesitant. Without thinking, you reached up to smooth out the furrow between his brows with your thumb. “What are you thinking about?”
He grimaced, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I, uh– Shit. I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?” you asked.
“Asking for something I want. Even admitting that I want something I don’t already have.”
“What are you talking about?” You felt like you’d missed part of a conversation he’d been having with himself.
He sighed, put out, then mumbled, “I want you to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, a little confused.
“No, I mean–“ he sighed again and then turned onto his back so that he was no longer looking you in the eye. “I want you to stay here, in this room. I want it to be ours. I don’t want you to sleep across the hall anymore. And when we move into the new house, I want us both to be in the primary suite. I want it to be ours. I want everything to be ours.”
You could feel how big and round your eyes had gotten. “Oh,” was all you could say. But really, why were you so surprised? The part of you that believed that people only kept you around because they had to, that Ransom would rather have his life go back to normal but was stuck with you, had been getting quieter and quieter every day. Your husband had shown you how untrue that was in countless ways. So why couldn’t this be true too?
But Ransom seemed to take your shocked silence as resistance, so he kept going. “I know you want your own space, and I’m not saying that room has to go back to my gym, or– Or– It can still be yours. But I just– I miss you in my bed. Lola too, the little blanket-hogging jerk. I’m tired of sleeping alone. I miss you.”
Tears were pricking at your eyes again, but this time they were good tears. They were tears of feeling so wanted, and wanting right back. They were tears of belonging.
“Please say something,” Ransom whispered, finally turning back to look at you. And he looked so scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of being rejected. Scared of a life lived separately.
“Of course,” you whispered back. “Of course, I will, Ransom. I’d love to.”
And he seemed so young when he beamed at you in response. So hopeful. “Thank you,” he breathed, and kissed you on the forehead, because that was the part of you he could reach first. “Thank you,” he said again, and then pulled you into a soft, grateful kiss.
Holy smokes, I was completely dead yesterday for reasons I still don't understand. But I think I'm back in the land of the living today. So, to do list:
Laundry
Load and run the dishwasher
Catch up on asks
Do my nails
I've also got some very angsty hate sex to write for @stargazingfangirl18 's event but I doubt I'll get to that today. Honestly, my couch is very comfy, so we'll see if I actually get to any of it.
I will do laundry. I will I will I will. It isn't optional. 😤
I FINISHED THE LAUNDRY!!! It was horrific but I did it. Dishes too. I took off my old nails and now just gotta get the motivation to get the new ones on. And clear up my head enough to answer asks.
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst!! age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, pregnancy, smut (oral - f receiving, p in v) more en dashes than you would ever believe - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: I really hope you guys love this one as much as I do. It's been a long time coming.
A huge thanks as always to @paperweight91, who had to give me her annual "You can actually write smut," pep talk. I couldn't do it without you, Chelsea!!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me!!! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
All you could hear was a baby, somewhere, screaming.
You’d just been at the interior designer’s office to drop off some samples of what you wanted for the new house. Then when you’d driven past a cute little baby boutique, you’d made the driver stop, and you’d done a little impulsive shopping. Ransom’s excitement for your little girl was infectious, and you’d been trying to let yourself indulge in it in order to stave off the anxiety of all the things that could happen now that your husband didn’t have an heir. So you’d returned with a couple of small shopping bags in hand.
But you stopped short when you got in the door and were met with that sonic wall of screaming. But as you looked around, there were no guests, no one unexpected, no source of the sound. The lower floor was empty aside from Ransom sitting on the couch, Lola held firmly on his lap as he gently petted her.
“What’s going on?” you shouted across the room.
Ransom jumped slightly, not having realized you were home, then scrambled for his phone. Immediately, the noise, blessedly, stopped. “Sorry,” he said, blushing a little, and for the first time you were pretty sure you were seeing Ransom self-conscious. “Lola and I have been working on getting used to the sounds of a baby when you aren’t around. Google says it’s a good way to prepare your dog.”
You didn’t try to stop the warm smile you felt taking over your face. “Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”
He let her off his lap, and she scampered over to you. “She’s doing good. Making a lot of progress. It isn’t so scary anymore, is it?”
Lola looked up at you and wagged her tail. “Good job, baby,” you said to her as you put down your bags and picked her up. “What else does Google say?”
“Uh,” Ransom scratched the back of his neck. He was embarrassed by how much work and thought he’d put into this. It made your heart melt. “We should be getting her used to the new smells too, so letting her sniff anything we buy for the baby. And we should introduce any new routines or patterns right now. Get her used to being taken care of by both of us, not just you.”
“You already do a good job of that,” you said sincerely.
He shrugged. “I’m trying.” He bent down to look through your bags. “Speaking of new smells, what did you get?”
“Oh, I passed by a little baby store on my way home, so I decided to stop in and see what I could find.”
Ransom took out a pretty lilac onesie and a soft sage blanket. He carefully held them up for Lola to smell. “It’s so tiny,” he said softly, reverently smoothing his thumb over the onesie.
“Yeah,” you answered, moving your free hand to your bump, which was big enough now that you felt like you could barely call it that. “I think she’s going to be even teenier than we realize.”
Ransom delicately put the baby’s things back in the bag and moved both of his hands to your stomach. You felt the baby shift in response, the way she did right before she was about to start punching you. Ransom had yet to feel her, and you knew it was bothering him, so you grabbed one of his wrists and moved it a few inches to where she’d started to press against you. “She’s right there,” you whispered.
Ransom pressed his lips together in concentration, and then his brow furrowed in frustration. “I still can’t-“ She moved again, and he froze. “Wait,” he said, so quietly like he didn’t want to spook her, and she kicked again, almost in response. “That’s her?” he asked, breathless.
“Yeah,” you grinned, “that’s her.” And then, feeling like your heart was cracking wide open, you added, “She’s saying hi to her daddy.”
You felt his breath hitch through his hands on you. He looked up, tears in his eyes and a scared, happy, joyful smile on his face. He moved one hand up to your cheek while the other stayed pressed to the spot where your daughter was, and kissed you, soft and slow and happy. So, so happy.
You were sharing the couch with Ransom, both reading quietly with Lola snuggled between you, when it washed over you. This had happened a few times now. Heat coursing through your whole body. Need. Out of nowhere. You knew it was normal. You’d read about it in your books. But that didn’t make it any easier.
The last time you’d tried to take care of it yourself while Ransom was at work, but you’d discovered that your belly was now too big for you to reach around and get to your core, even with your vibrator. So you’d cried alone in your bed until it finally passed. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do that again.
You looked over at Ransom over your book. God, he was so beautiful. It still kind of made you mad, even after all this time. The way your feet were pulled up onto the couch, your toes just barely grazed his thigh. You moved back quickly. As much as every part of your body was screaming at you to crawl onto his lap and make him fuck you, you couldn’t actually do that. You didn’t even know if he wanted it. Plus, you were pretty sure that if he touched you, you’d actually explode.
At your movement, he looked up at you. “You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed the way it did anytime you displayed the slightest hint of discomfort or displeasure.
You smiled and hoped it didn’t come across as a grimace. “I’m fine, just a little uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to go get you another pillow? Would that help?”
You shook your head vigorously. “Nope! I’m fine. It’s fine. Just ignore me.” You took a deep, slow breath as the need got even worse.
And the way he was pinning you down with his gaze wasn’t helping. “You don’t seem like you’re uncomfortable. You seem like you’re in pain.” He reached a hand out to you, and you shrank back, knowing that if he touched you, you’d lose all semblance of control.
“It’s not pain, Ransom, I promise. Please. Please just drop it.” You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes as your whole body felt like it was about to catch fire.
“I’m not going to drop it if there’s something I can do to help,” he said firmly, and you wanted to scream.
“No, it’s– It’s fine, I just–“ You closed your eyes as you struggled to breathe normally. Finally, you gave up. He was worse than Steve; you weren’t going to be able to keep hiding this from him. “It’s the hormones. I just get really horny sometimes. Out of nowhere. And it’s awful, but it’ll pass.”
You felt the way he went completely still and opened your eyes. He was staring at you, a smirk on his face. “Well,” he said, and his voice had dropped at least an octave. It shot right through you. “That sounds like the exact sort of thing I can help with.”
“Ransom–“You shook your head, not sure of what to say. Not trusting yourself to say anything.
The smirk dropped off his face, and his eyes got serious. “Do you want me to help you with this?” he asked. And it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t sexy. It was a real question, and you knew that if you said no, he would leave you alone. Or maybe make you some tea. Find another way to help, to make you comfortable. But he wouldn’t touch you. And he wouldn’t keep asking.
Your eyes slipped closed again. “You don’t have to,” you answered, your voice small.
“Hey, look at me,” he commanded gently. You forced yourself to open your eyes, and he continued. “I know exactly what I do and don’t have to do. Do you want me to help you with this?”
With one more deep breath, you tried not to whine as you answered, “Yes. Please.”
And before the words had even fully left your mouth, he’d lunged across the couch and captured your lips in a deep, passionate, hungry kiss. It felt like he might eat you alive, and you wanted it. You wanted everything he could give you.
He had you flat on the couch, his body covering yours, even with your bump in the way. You took the opportunity when he came up for air to whine, “More. I– I–“
A gentle hand on your cheek grounded you. “I know, I know. I need you in my bed. Think you can get upstairs?”
A bed sounded nice with the way you were sagging off the couch. But you were also pretty sure that if he stopped touching you, you’d die. You clutched onto his wrist. “I think, but–“
“Yeah, I know,” he said, even as he peppered your neck with kisses, “I’ve got you.”
He helped you off the couch, never letting go of you. And as he moved you up the stairs, some part of him was always touching you. A hand wrapped around your wrist, another on your hip, his lips on the back of your neck.
Once in his bedroom, he stopped you before you could climb onto the bed. He kissed you again, breaking for just long enough to lift your t-shirt over your head and fling it behind him. One more kiss and then he was kneeling down beside you, working your leggings down your legs to the point you could kick them off your feet. Then, his hands moved reverently up your body—your ankles, your calves, your thighs—to your panties, which he pulled down with equal reverence. Then he continued moving up, placing a gentle kiss on your belly and then working to undo your bra. Once he’d freed your breasts, he took them in both hands as he buried his face in your neck.
“Ransom,” you whined, tugging on his shirt, as he still somehow had all of his clothes on. You needed them off. You needed them off right now.
You felt him grin into your neck, and then he pulled away enough that you could get his shirt off. You ran both hands up his stomach and chest. How was he fair? How was he yours? (Because he was now. He was he was he was.) You dropped your hands to undo his pants, but he stopped you, lifting them so he could kiss your knuckles. Then he very carefully laid you down on his bed, moving a pillow to support your lower back. He trailed kisses down your entire body before he stood back up and took the rest of his clothes off as fast as he possibly could.
Once he was finally naked, he paused for a moment at the foot of the bed, and you both just stared at each other. Even as you’d gotten to know him, gotten used to him, you’d never get used to the way he seemed like he was carved from marble. Or how his skin glowed. Or how–
“God, look at you,” his whisper interrupted your thoughts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” And then his hands were back on your body, spreading your legs so that he could slot himself between them. He hooked one ankle over his shoulder. “That feel okay?” he asked.
All you could do was nod, and he immediately returned his lips to you, working his way up your inner thigh. With a jolt, you realized what he meant to do, and you reached out an urgent hand to him. “You don’t have to–“ you started but were cut off when he turned back to you with a playful glare.
“What did I say about that?” he asked, his voice so low.
He’d gone back to kissing up your thigh, and you had to force yourself to take a breath, to unfog your mind, to remember what he said. “You said–” you paused with a gasp as his lips got so, so close to the center of you. “You said you already know what you do and don’t have to do.”
“That’s right,” he muttered into your thigh. “And I want to do this. I’m desperate to find out what you taste like.” Then he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. “But if you really don’t want me to, I won’t.” You took another breath and opened your mouth, even though you weren’t sure what your response would be. “But please, please, let me taste you, baby. I’ll stop if you hate it. I promise.”
“What if you hate it?” you asked, voice small, even as you were desperate to just finally say yes.
He laughed and sent you a dirty smirk. “I can guaran-fucking-tee that I won’t.”
Your body was burning up again, so with a small moan you finally let go. “Yes, please.”
And just like that, his mouth was on you. You threw your head back on a gasp, like all the air had been punched out of your body. Your hands bunched into the sheets on either side of your head as he lapped at you like a man starved. You felt his tongue moving between your folds, getting to know you, searching for your clit. The second he found it, your eyes slammed shut, your body spasmed, and you felt more than heard his pleased hum. He experimented with licks first, before he wrapped his tongue around it and gave it a hard suck. You couldn’t help the lewd moan you released, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.
You’d never felt anything like this. Not with the only other person you’d ever had sex with. And you’d certainly never let Ransom do anything like this before, not when getting pregnant had been the only goal and everything else had seemed like a waste of time. And definitely not by yourself. You’d never taken such care with yourself.
Your breaths were coming fast as you felt yourself climbing, climbing, climbing. A good, soft warmth was moving through your body as you felt his hands on your hips, firmly holding onto you. Keeping you from floating away. Your eyes slipped open; you weren’t sure why, but you were immediately met with Ransom’s intense gaze, locked on your face to take in every single nuance of your reaction. And the way he was looking at you, watching you…
That was what did it. That was what sent you over the edge. The way that he saw you. The look in his eyes. You came with a cry, your body shaking apart, only anchored by his hands on your hips, pinning you down to earth.
His mouth stayed on you through your whole orgasm and all the aftershocks. Drinking you up, like he couldn’t get enough. Then, slowly but surely, he began working his way back up you, his lips and hands moving in tandem as he traversed your whole body. Once he got to your neck, he nuzzled into you before meeting your eyes with a cocky smirk. “Feeling better?”
You tried to nod, but all of your bones were like jelly. And while the need inside of you was no longer so insistent, no longer hot enough to burn, there was still something simmering under the surface. Something that had made your legs clamp around Ransom at some point and now wouldn’t let him go. “I– I need–“ you tried to explain to him, but the words wouldn’t string together.
Ransom quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk turned dirty. “You need more, baby?” he asked, voice low. “It’s okay. You can tell me what you need, what you want.”
You felt your face heating up. Your eyes wanted to slip closed, to avoid the way he was looking at you, but you forced them to stay open. “I want–“ You tried to put what you were feeling into words, but everything just felt clumsy. You tried again, summing it up as best you could. “I want you.”
The smile that bloomed on Ransom’s face—you weren’t sure you’d ever seen it before. Cocky and hungry and happy, all rolled together. “I want you, too,” he said softly as he dipped his head down to kiss you, tender and eager with a thread of filth that you wanted to follow. But he broke it off too soon. “Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed, and he kissed you again. His hand landed gently between your thighs, one and then two fingers working their way inside of you. They were big and thick as they spread you, but they weren’t enough. “Ransom,” you whined, “I need– That’s not–“
“Hey, I know,” he cooed softly, still working you open with his fingers, “I’m just making sure that orgasm got you ready to take me. I want it to feel good.”
Suddenly you felt self-conscious; he’d already done so much for and to you, and you hadn’t even offered to do anything for him in return. You reached for his length. “I can help get you ready, too,” you said, a little embarrassed.
Ransom laughed, his head thrown back, but it wasn’t mean; it wasn’t judging. It was warm and playful. “Babe, I’m harder than a fucking diamond right now. I don’t need a goddamn thing to get me ready for you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said with a grin. “You’re so hot like this. Your taste on my lips and the thought of your warm pussy are all I need to get me going. You ready too? You comfortable?”
You flopped back down, giving in to your body and what it was telling you. “Yes, I– Yes.”
That was all it took for him to kiss you again, his body fully covering your own, taking special care to keep his weight off your stomach, as he carefully slid his fingers out of you. You whined at the emptiness, but the shortest moment later he was lining himself up and slowly filling you with his cock.
On instinct, or maybe out of habit, your eyes slammed closed, retreating inside yourself as you felt your insides stretch to try to accommodate him. But before you got very far, you were brought back by a hand, Ransom’s hand, squeezing yours gently.
“Hey, open your eyes,” he directed softly. You did, immediately, and found his blue gaze boring into you. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “You can be here, right now. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”
You took a deep breath and nodded. You believed him. You trusted him. As he bottomed out inside of you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. For a long moment neither of you moved, and all you could feel was his cock spreading you open and his stuttered breaths on your neck. And then he shifted so that his forehead touched yours and his lips brushed your lips as he said, “Fucking shit. You feel so fucking good. Tell me– Please tell me I can move. Goddamn.”
“Ransom, please, yes, please,” tumbled out of you as you felt so full you thought you might lose your mind. And it only got worse as he began to rock in and out of you. “Ransom, Ransom,” you chanted, your arms still wrapped around him. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, and you felt electricity flow through you where he touched you.
He shifted his hips and hit a spot inside of you that had a cry suddenly tearing through you. “Yeah?” he asked with a proud grin. “Right there?”
“Please, yes, yes, yes,” you babbled as he kept hitting it and you were climbing again, up and up and up and–
“Let go,” he whispered in your ear, as his thumb began to press insistent circles on your clit, “go ahead. I’ve got you. I want to see it again.”
One more thrust and you did what he asked, sailing over the edge, shaking apart as you gripped him tightly to you.
“Goddammit, look at you, you’re so beautiful. You feel so fucking good,” he babbled as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Holy fuck,” he growled as he joined you not long after, filling you up and holding you tight.
The two of you stayed collapsed on the bed in a heap, just breathing heavily into each other’s necks. After several long moments, Ransom tried to move, but you couldn’t figure out how to move your limbs to let him go. “Hey,” he assured you softly, “I just want to get us cleaned up.”
“Not yet,” you whispered. “Just– Not yet.”
“Yeah, okay. Okay,” he soothed you, dropping his body back down so that he blanketed you again.
Focused on Ransom’s breathing, you slowly came back to yourself. Once the high of your orgasms slowly ebbed away, you couldn’t explain the loss you felt. You knew, intellectually, that it was probably all hormones, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a profound grief for everything that may have been. You were crying, you realized, too late to try to be able to hide it. And it wouldn’t have made a difference. Ransom was watching you too closely to not pick up on every little nuance.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything. I’m okay. I’m good.”
“But something’s wrong?” His hand was tentatively running up and down your arm now, doing what he could to soothe you without knowing the cause.
“No, not really. I– I just–“ You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying harder. “I just didn’t know it could be like that. I wish it had always been like that.”
“Oh,” he said softly, under his breath, shifting so that he was no longer on top of you but still touching you with as much of his body as he could.
“And I know, I know that that’s all my fault. I know that I pushed and I pushed and– But I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.” A fresh wave of tears came, and you didn’t object as Ransom pulled you closer to him so that you could bury your face in his chest.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. You were very scared, and we didn’t know each other. It wasn’t your fault.” He didn’t say anything else as he rubbed your back and let you cry it out.
After a few minutes, you pulled away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining the mood. It really was so good. You made me feel so good.”
That got the return of his cocky smirk. “Yeah? It sure seemed like you enjoyed it.” Then his smile softened significantly. “You made me feel good, too.”
“Oh?” You ducked your head, suddenly shy. “That’s, that’s good. I’m glad. I want to– I want to do more. Next time. I want to learn what you like.”
“Next time, huh?” he grinned. “Yeah, we’ve got lots of next times in front of us. If you want. Plenty of time to learn about each other.”
You scooted closer to him, to cuddle into his warmth. “Yeah? That sounds really nice.”
“It will be,” he said definitively, wrapping an arm around you.
You were both quiet for a long time, just enjoying this peace together, when he stiffened a little bit and shifted. You looked up at his face to find him looking thoughtful, hesitant. Without thinking, you reached up to smooth out the furrow between his brows with your thumb. “What are you thinking about?”
He grimaced, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I, uh– Shit. I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?” you asked.
“Asking for something I want. Even admitting that I want something I don’t already have.”
“What are you talking about?” You felt like you’d missed part of a conversation he’d been having with himself.
He sighed, put out, then mumbled, “I want you to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, a little confused.
“No, I mean–“ he sighed again and then turned onto his back so that he was no longer looking you in the eye. “I want you to stay here, in this room. I want it to be ours. I don’t want you to sleep across the hall anymore. And when we move into the new house, I want us both to be in the primary suite. I want it to be ours. I want everything to be ours.”
You could feel how big and round your eyes had gotten. “Oh,” was all you could say. But really, why were you so surprised? The part of you that believed that people only kept you around because they had to, that Ransom would rather have his life go back to normal but was stuck with you, had been getting quieter and quieter every day. Your husband had shown you how untrue that was in countless ways. So why couldn’t this be true too?
But Ransom seemed to take your shocked silence as resistance, so he kept going. “I know you want your own space, and I’m not saying that room has to go back to my gym, or– Or– It can still be yours. But I just– I miss you in my bed. Lola too, the little blanket-hogging jerk. I’m tired of sleeping alone. I miss you.”
Tears were pricking at your eyes again, but this time they were good tears. They were tears of feeling so wanted, and wanting right back. They were tears of belonging.
“Please say something,” Ransom whispered, finally turning back to look at you. And he looked so scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of being rejected. Scared of a life lived separately.
“Of course,” you whispered back. “Of course, I will, Ransom. I’d love to.”
And he seemed so young when he beamed at you in response. So hopeful. “Thank you,” he breathed, and kissed you on the forehead, because that was the part of you he could reach first. “Thank you,” he said again, and then pulled you into a soft, grateful kiss.
Are you reading a multi chapter fic? Try leaving a comment when you take a break! Did I just remind you of a fic you read a couple days ago? Go back and comment on it!
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Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst!! age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, pregnancy, smut (oral - f receiving, p in v) more en dashes than you would ever believe - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: I really hope you guys love this one as much as I do. It's been a long time coming.
A huge thanks as always to @paperweight91, who had to give me her annual "You can actually write smut," pep talk. I couldn't do it without you, Chelsea!!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me!!! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
All you could hear was a baby, somewhere, screaming.
You’d just been at the interior designer’s office to drop off some samples of what you wanted for the new house. Then when you’d driven past a cute little baby boutique, you’d made the driver stop, and you’d done a little impulsive shopping. Ransom’s excitement for your little girl was infectious, and you’d been trying to let yourself indulge in it in order to stave off the anxiety of all the things that could happen now that your husband didn’t have an heir. So you’d returned with a couple of small shopping bags in hand.
But you stopped short when you got in the door and were met with that sonic wall of screaming. But as you looked around, there were no guests, no one unexpected, no source of the sound. The lower floor was empty aside from Ransom sitting on the couch, Lola held firmly on his lap as he gently petted her.
“What’s going on?” you shouted across the room.
Ransom jumped slightly, not having realized you were home, then scrambled for his phone. Immediately, the noise, blessedly, stopped. “Sorry,” he said, blushing a little, and for the first time you were pretty sure you were seeing Ransom self-conscious. “Lola and I have been working on getting used to the sounds of a baby when you aren’t around. Google says it’s a good way to prepare your dog.”
You didn’t try to stop the warm smile you felt taking over your face. “Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”
He let her off his lap, and she scampered over to you. “She’s doing good. Making a lot of progress. It isn’t so scary anymore, is it?”
Lola looked up at you and wagged her tail. “Good job, baby,” you said to her as you put down your bags and picked her up. “What else does Google say?”
“Uh,” Ransom scratched the back of his neck. He was embarrassed by how much work and thought he’d put into this. It made your heart melt. “We should be getting her used to the new smells too, so letting her sniff anything we buy for the baby. And we should introduce any new routines or patterns right now. Get her used to being taken care of by both of us, not just you.”
“You already do a good job of that,” you said sincerely.
He shrugged. “I’m trying.” He bent down to look through your bags. “Speaking of new smells, what did you get?”
“Oh, I passed by a little baby store on my way home, so I decided to stop in and see what I could find.”
Ransom took out a pretty lilac onesie and a soft sage blanket. He carefully held them up for Lola to smell. “It’s so tiny,” he said softly, reverently smoothing his thumb over the onesie.
“Yeah,” you answered, moving your free hand to your bump, which was big enough now that you felt like you could barely call it that. “I think she’s going to be even teenier than we realize.”
Ransom delicately put the baby’s things back in the bag and moved both of his hands to your stomach. You felt the baby shift in response, the way she did right before she was about to start punching you. Ransom had yet to feel her, and you knew it was bothering him, so you grabbed one of his wrists and moved it a few inches to where she’d started to press against you. “She’s right there,” you whispered.
Ransom pressed his lips together in concentration, and then his brow furrowed in frustration. “I still can’t-“ She moved again, and he froze. “Wait,” he said, so quietly like he didn’t want to spook her, and she kicked again, almost in response. “That’s her?” he asked, breathless.
“Yeah,” you grinned, “that’s her.” And then, feeling like your heart was cracking wide open, you added, “She’s saying hi to her daddy.”
You felt his breath hitch through his hands on you. He looked up, tears in his eyes and a scared, happy, joyful smile on his face. He moved one hand up to your cheek while the other stayed pressed to the spot where your daughter was, and kissed you, soft and slow and happy. So, so happy.
You were sharing the couch with Ransom, both reading quietly with Lola snuggled between you, when it washed over you. This had happened a few times now. Heat coursing through your whole body. Need. Out of nowhere. You knew it was normal. You’d read about it in your books. But that didn’t make it any easier.
The last time you’d tried to take care of it yourself while Ransom was at work, but you’d discovered that your belly was now too big for you to reach around and get to your core, even with your vibrator. So you’d cried alone in your bed until it finally passed. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do that again.
You looked over at Ransom over your book. God, he was so beautiful. It still kind of made you mad, even after all this time. The way your feet were pulled up onto the couch, your toes just barely grazed his thigh. You moved back quickly. As much as every part of your body was screaming at you to crawl onto his lap and make him fuck you, you couldn’t actually do that. You didn’t even know if he wanted it. Plus, you were pretty sure that if he touched you, you’d actually explode.
At your movement, he looked up at you. “You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed the way it did anytime you displayed the slightest hint of discomfort or displeasure.
You smiled and hoped it didn’t come across as a grimace. “I’m fine, just a little uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to go get you another pillow? Would that help?”
You shook your head vigorously. “Nope! I’m fine. It’s fine. Just ignore me.” You took a deep, slow breath as the need got even worse.
And the way he was pinning you down with his gaze wasn’t helping. “You don’t seem like you’re uncomfortable. You seem like you’re in pain.” He reached a hand out to you, and you shrank back, knowing that if he touched you, you’d lose all semblance of control.
“It’s not pain, Ransom, I promise. Please. Please just drop it.” You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes as your whole body felt like it was about to catch fire.
“I’m not going to drop it if there’s something I can do to help,” he said firmly, and you wanted to scream.
“No, it’s– It’s fine, I just–“ You closed your eyes as you struggled to breathe normally. Finally, you gave up. He was worse than Steve; you weren’t going to be able to keep hiding this from him. “It’s the hormones. I just get really horny sometimes. Out of nowhere. And it’s awful, but it’ll pass.”
You felt the way he went completely still and opened your eyes. He was staring at you, a smirk on his face. “Well,” he said, and his voice had dropped at least an octave. It shot right through you. “That sounds like the exact sort of thing I can help with.”
“Ransom–“You shook your head, not sure of what to say. Not trusting yourself to say anything.
The smirk dropped off his face, and his eyes got serious. “Do you want me to help you with this?” he asked. And it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t sexy. It was a real question, and you knew that if you said no, he would leave you alone. Or maybe make you some tea. Find another way to help, to make you comfortable. But he wouldn’t touch you. And he wouldn’t keep asking.
Your eyes slipped closed again. “You don’t have to,” you answered, your voice small.
“Hey, look at me,” he commanded gently. You forced yourself to open your eyes, and he continued. “I know exactly what I do and don’t have to do. Do you want me to help you with this?”
With one more deep breath, you tried not to whine as you answered, “Yes. Please.”
And before the words had even fully left your mouth, he’d lunged across the couch and captured your lips in a deep, passionate, hungry kiss. It felt like he might eat you alive, and you wanted it. You wanted everything he could give you.
He had you flat on the couch, his body covering yours, even with your bump in the way. You took the opportunity when he came up for air to whine, “More. I– I–“
A gentle hand on your cheek grounded you. “I know, I know. I need you in my bed. Think you can get upstairs?”
A bed sounded nice with the way you were sagging off the couch. But you were also pretty sure that if he stopped touching you, you’d die. You clutched onto his wrist. “I think, but–“
“Yeah, I know,” he said, even as he peppered your neck with kisses, “I’ve got you.”
He helped you off the couch, never letting go of you. And as he moved you up the stairs, some part of him was always touching you. A hand wrapped around your wrist, another on your hip, his lips on the back of your neck.
Once in his bedroom, he stopped you before you could climb onto the bed. He kissed you again, breaking for just long enough to lift your t-shirt over your head and fling it behind him. One more kiss and then he was kneeling down beside you, working your leggings down your legs to the point you could kick them off your feet. Then, his hands moved reverently up your body—your ankles, your calves, your thighs—to your panties, which he pulled down with equal reverence. Then he continued moving up, placing a gentle kiss on your belly and then working to undo your bra. Once he’d freed your breasts, he took them in both hands as he buried his face in your neck.
“Ransom,” you whined, tugging on his shirt, as he still somehow had all of his clothes on. You needed them off. You needed them off right now.
You felt him grin into your neck, and then he pulled away enough that you could get his shirt off. You ran both hands up his stomach and chest. How was he fair? How was he yours? (Because he was now. He was he was he was.) You dropped your hands to undo his pants, but he stopped you, lifting them so he could kiss your knuckles. Then he very carefully laid you down on his bed, moving a pillow to support your lower back. He trailed kisses down your entire body before he stood back up and took the rest of his clothes off as fast as he possibly could.
Once he was finally naked, he paused for a moment at the foot of the bed, and you both just stared at each other. Even as you’d gotten to know him, gotten used to him, you’d never get used to the way he seemed like he was carved from marble. Or how his skin glowed. Or how–
“God, look at you,” his whisper interrupted your thoughts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” And then his hands were back on your body, spreading your legs so that he could slot himself between them. He hooked one ankle over his shoulder. “That feel okay?” he asked.
All you could do was nod, and he immediately returned his lips to you, working his way up your inner thigh. With a jolt, you realized what he meant to do, and you reached out an urgent hand to him. “You don’t have to–“ you started but were cut off when he turned back to you with a playful glare.
“What did I say about that?” he asked, his voice so low.
He’d gone back to kissing up your thigh, and you had to force yourself to take a breath, to unfog your mind, to remember what he said. “You said–” you paused with a gasp as his lips got so, so close to the center of you. “You said you already know what you do and don’t have to do.”
“That’s right,” he muttered into your thigh. “And I want to do this. I’m desperate to find out what you taste like.” Then he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. “But if you really don’t want me to, I won’t.” You took another breath and opened your mouth, even though you weren’t sure what your response would be. “But please, please, let me taste you, baby. I’ll stop if you hate it. I promise.”
“What if you hate it?” you asked, voice small, even as you were desperate to just finally say yes.
He laughed and sent you a dirty smirk. “I can guaran-fucking-tee that I won’t.”
Your body was burning up again, so with a small moan you finally let go. “Yes, please.”
And just like that, his mouth was on you. You threw your head back on a gasp, like all the air had been punched out of your body. Your hands bunched into the sheets on either side of your head as he lapped at you like a man starved. You felt his tongue moving between your folds, getting to know you, searching for your clit. The second he found it, your eyes slammed shut, your body spasmed, and you felt more than heard his pleased hum. He experimented with licks first, before he wrapped his tongue around it and gave it a hard suck. You couldn’t help the lewd moan you released, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.
You’d never felt anything like this. Not with the only other person you’d ever had sex with. And you’d certainly never let Ransom do anything like this before, not when getting pregnant had been the only goal and everything else had seemed like a waste of time. And definitely not by yourself. You’d never taken such care with yourself.
Your breaths were coming fast as you felt yourself climbing, climbing, climbing. A good, soft warmth was moving through your body as you felt his hands on your hips, firmly holding onto you. Keeping you from floating away. Your eyes slipped open; you weren’t sure why, but you were immediately met with Ransom’s intense gaze, locked on your face to take in every single nuance of your reaction. And the way he was looking at you, watching you…
That was what did it. That was what sent you over the edge. The way that he saw you. The look in his eyes. You came with a cry, your body shaking apart, only anchored by his hands on your hips, pinning you down to earth.
His mouth stayed on you through your whole orgasm and all the aftershocks. Drinking you up, like he couldn’t get enough. Then, slowly but surely, he began working his way back up you, his lips and hands moving in tandem as he traversed your whole body. Once he got to your neck, he nuzzled into you before meeting your eyes with a cocky smirk. “Feeling better?”
You tried to nod, but all of your bones were like jelly. And while the need inside of you was no longer so insistent, no longer hot enough to burn, there was still something simmering under the surface. Something that had made your legs clamp around Ransom at some point and now wouldn’t let him go. “I– I need–“ you tried to explain to him, but the words wouldn’t string together.
Ransom quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk turned dirty. “You need more, baby?” he asked, voice low. “It’s okay. You can tell me what you need, what you want.”
You felt your face heating up. Your eyes wanted to slip closed, to avoid the way he was looking at you, but you forced them to stay open. “I want–“ You tried to put what you were feeling into words, but everything just felt clumsy. You tried again, summing it up as best you could. “I want you.”
The smile that bloomed on Ransom’s face—you weren’t sure you’d ever seen it before. Cocky and hungry and happy, all rolled together. “I want you, too,” he said softly as he dipped his head down to kiss you, tender and eager with a thread of filth that you wanted to follow. But he broke it off too soon. “Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed, and he kissed you again. His hand landed gently between your thighs, one and then two fingers working their way inside of you. They were big and thick as they spread you, but they weren’t enough. “Ransom,” you whined, “I need– That’s not–“
“Hey, I know,” he cooed softly, still working you open with his fingers, “I’m just making sure that orgasm got you ready to take me. I want it to feel good.”
Suddenly you felt self-conscious; he’d already done so much for and to you, and you hadn’t even offered to do anything for him in return. You reached for his length. “I can help get you ready, too,” you said, a little embarrassed.
Ransom laughed, his head thrown back, but it wasn’t mean; it wasn’t judging. It was warm and playful. “Babe, I’m harder than a fucking diamond right now. I don’t need a goddamn thing to get me ready for you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said with a grin. “You’re so hot like this. Your taste on my lips and the thought of your warm pussy are all I need to get me going. You ready too? You comfortable?”
You flopped back down, giving in to your body and what it was telling you. “Yes, I– Yes.”
That was all it took for him to kiss you again, his body fully covering your own, taking special care to keep his weight off your stomach, as he carefully slid his fingers out of you. You whined at the emptiness, but the shortest moment later he was lining himself up and slowly filling you with his cock.
On instinct, or maybe out of habit, your eyes slammed closed, retreating inside yourself as you felt your insides stretch to try to accommodate him. But before you got very far, you were brought back by a hand, Ransom’s hand, squeezing yours gently.
“Hey, open your eyes,” he directed softly. You did, immediately, and found his blue gaze boring into you. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “You can be here, right now. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”
You took a deep breath and nodded. You believed him. You trusted him. As he bottomed out inside of you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. For a long moment neither of you moved, and all you could feel was his cock spreading you open and his stuttered breaths on your neck. And then he shifted so that his forehead touched yours and his lips brushed your lips as he said, “Fucking shit. You feel so fucking good. Tell me– Please tell me I can move. Goddamn.”
“Ransom, please, yes, please,” tumbled out of you as you felt so full you thought you might lose your mind. And it only got worse as he began to rock in and out of you. “Ransom, Ransom,” you chanted, your arms still wrapped around him. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, and you felt electricity flow through you where he touched you.
He shifted his hips and hit a spot inside of you that had a cry suddenly tearing through you. “Yeah?” he asked with a proud grin. “Right there?”
“Please, yes, yes, yes,” you babbled as he kept hitting it and you were climbing again, up and up and up and–
“Let go,” he whispered in your ear, as his thumb began to press insistent circles on your clit, “go ahead. I’ve got you. I want to see it again.”
One more thrust and you did what he asked, sailing over the edge, shaking apart as you gripped him tightly to you.
“Goddammit, look at you, you’re so beautiful. You feel so fucking good,” he babbled as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Holy fuck,” he growled as he joined you not long after, filling you up and holding you tight.
The two of you stayed collapsed on the bed in a heap, just breathing heavily into each other’s necks. After several long moments, Ransom tried to move, but you couldn’t figure out how to move your limbs to let him go. “Hey,” he assured you softly, “I just want to get us cleaned up.”
“Not yet,” you whispered. “Just– Not yet.”
“Yeah, okay. Okay,” he soothed you, dropping his body back down so that he blanketed you again.
Focused on Ransom’s breathing, you slowly came back to yourself. Once the high of your orgasms slowly ebbed away, you couldn’t explain the loss you felt. You knew, intellectually, that it was probably all hormones, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a profound grief for everything that may have been. You were crying, you realized, too late to try to be able to hide it. And it wouldn’t have made a difference. Ransom was watching you too closely to not pick up on every little nuance.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything. I’m okay. I’m good.”
“But something’s wrong?” His hand was tentatively running up and down your arm now, doing what he could to soothe you without knowing the cause.
“No, not really. I– I just–“ You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying harder. “I just didn’t know it could be like that. I wish it had always been like that.”
“Oh,” he said softly, under his breath, shifting so that he was no longer on top of you but still touching you with as much of his body as he could.
“And I know, I know that that’s all my fault. I know that I pushed and I pushed and– But I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.” A fresh wave of tears came, and you didn’t object as Ransom pulled you closer to him so that you could bury your face in his chest.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. You were very scared, and we didn’t know each other. It wasn’t your fault.” He didn’t say anything else as he rubbed your back and let you cry it out.
After a few minutes, you pulled away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining the mood. It really was so good. You made me feel so good.”
That got the return of his cocky smirk. “Yeah? It sure seemed like you enjoyed it.” Then his smile softened significantly. “You made me feel good, too.”
“Oh?” You ducked your head, suddenly shy. “That’s, that’s good. I’m glad. I want to– I want to do more. Next time. I want to learn what you like.”
“Next time, huh?” he grinned. “Yeah, we’ve got lots of next times in front of us. If you want. Plenty of time to learn about each other.”
You scooted closer to him, to cuddle into his warmth. “Yeah? That sounds really nice.”
“It will be,” he said definitively, wrapping an arm around you.
You were both quiet for a long time, just enjoying this peace together, when he stiffened a little bit and shifted. You looked up at his face to find him looking thoughtful, hesitant. Without thinking, you reached up to smooth out the furrow between his brows with your thumb. “What are you thinking about?”
He grimaced, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I, uh– Shit. I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?” you asked.
“Asking for something I want. Even admitting that I want something I don’t already have.”
“What are you talking about?” You felt like you’d missed part of a conversation he’d been having with himself.
He sighed, put out, then mumbled, “I want you to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, a little confused.
“No, I mean–“ he sighed again and then turned onto his back so that he was no longer looking you in the eye. “I want you to stay here, in this room. I want it to be ours. I don’t want you to sleep across the hall anymore. And when we move into the new house, I want us both to be in the primary suite. I want it to be ours. I want everything to be ours.”
You could feel how big and round your eyes had gotten. “Oh,” was all you could say. But really, why were you so surprised? The part of you that believed that people only kept you around because they had to, that Ransom would rather have his life go back to normal but was stuck with you, had been getting quieter and quieter every day. Your husband had shown you how untrue that was in countless ways. So why couldn’t this be true too?
But Ransom seemed to take your shocked silence as resistance, so he kept going. “I know you want your own space, and I’m not saying that room has to go back to my gym, or– Or– It can still be yours. But I just– I miss you in my bed. Lola too, the little blanket-hogging jerk. I’m tired of sleeping alone. I miss you.”
Tears were pricking at your eyes again, but this time they were good tears. They were tears of feeling so wanted, and wanting right back. They were tears of belonging.
“Please say something,” Ransom whispered, finally turning back to look at you. And he looked so scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of being rejected. Scared of a life lived separately.
“Of course,” you whispered back. “Of course, I will, Ransom. I’d love to.”
And he seemed so young when he beamed at you in response. So hopeful. “Thank you,” he breathed, and kissed you on the forehead, because that was the part of you he could reach first. “Thank you,” he said again, and then pulled you into a soft, grateful kiss.
