Warnings: my poor attempt at coming out of retirement, monsterfucking bc sukuna, mean!sukuna (imean is there any other type of sukuna?), rough sex, restrained reader, crying, possessive behavior, there's a slap, biting, bloodplay (sukuna bites the reader with his fangies), p in v, this is literally just filth with no plot or reason, sorry not sorry.
A/N: Yeeeah so if this is trash my bad. It's been a minute since I wrote anything, but leave it to the walking red flag that is sukuna to drag me out of retirement smh. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @cafekitsune
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.
Sukuna laughs, the sound just as mean as it always is coming from him. It’s a mocking sound as he looks down on your panting form, a hard thrust of his fat cock spearing into you just for good measure, all so he can watch the way you tremble and choke on your screams. This is how he likes you, helpless, trapped under him as two of his hands hold your thighs apart and the other two hands keep your wrists pinned. There’s nothing you can do to escape him as he fucks you past your limits, using you until you think you might truly break apart on his cock.
He’s obsessed with pushing you to this point, craves seeing that proud attitude of yours crumble as he fucks you mindless and reminds you of your place. Under him, at his mercy, his to possess and own because he can’t let you go. It’s not love, but merely obsession. The closest he can get to such a cursed emotion, and with every thrust that drives his cock deep inside you he punishes you for making him feel this way. You’re under his skin, in his thoughts, worming your way in so much so that you can push him to moments like these where his self control shatters. He can’t let you go because he won’t have his perfect pet used against him, and he won’t kill you because despite all his meanness he wants you close.
You know it too, that’s why you push buttons, and do what no one else would ever dare to do. Because you know you’ll get away with it with your life intact. Your ability to walk on the other hand? Well that might take a day or two, at the least, to recover. This is your only real revenge against Sukuna, pushing him and provoking him to act on what he feels just so you know you aren’t the only one affected by his obsession with you. Funny how your revenge always ends up with you in tears though.
“S…sukuna, please…” There it is, what he wants to hear out of you. That broken, tearful plea for mercy that he has no intention of showing you. The hands at your thighs move to push your knees to your chest, spreading you open more for his benefit than your own. The sound you make when he manages to sink even deeper inside you is like a sweet symphony to the King of Curses as he shifts both of your wrists into one hand so he can grip your chin with the other.
He leans down, turning your head to the side. You shudder when you feel his tongue dragging over your pulse point before you feel his fangs dragging against it. Your mind is too lost to try and stop him, and you can only give another broken, sobbing moan when you feel him bite down. It hurts for only a moment before he soothes over the place he’s bitten, tasting the sweetness of your blood with a heady groan. You know he’s marked you in a place that you won’t easily be able to hide. You clench around him, so hard and so tightly that the formidable King of Curses lets out a deep rumbling growl as he lets his hips surge forward. “You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust, and each one draws a broken cry of pleasure from your lips.
The grip he has on your chin tightens, your head snapping forward as he forces your gaze to return to him. Tears stream down your cheeks, and he swears there’s no more beautiful sight than you being brought to tears by his cock. Sukuna grins, fangs dripping red, and his mouth still bloody from marking your flesh. He uses his grip on your jaw to make you nod your head. “Say it.” He commands, and you have no fight in you to deny him.
“Yours. Only yours.” You sob, the pleasure overwhelming and far too intense. You’ve no idea how many times he’s forced you to fall apart around his cock, but you can feel yourself reaching that impossible peak again. You feel as if you’ll go mad if he pushes you past it again, and you try weakly to plead with him once more. “Please…I—” He cuts you off with a growl that reverberates through your whole being and strikes you silent.
“You can.” Sukuna tells you simply, “and you will.” He continues, his cock continuing to rock into you again and again as he claims what’s his. “Now.” It’s an order, and your body bends to his will, the climax hitting you so hard that your vision whites out and you let loose a raw, hoarse scream as your essence floods his cock. Sukuna chuckles darkly at the way you go limp under him, his perfect broken toy. The thought of someone as strong as you, as defiant, and difficult under him like this is enough to send him careening the edge himself. “Who am I?” He questions, giving your cheek a sharp slap to rouse you enough to your senses to answer.
“My king…” You mutter, words slurred and barely above a whisper with how exhausted you are. It’s enough though, just enough to have Sukuna chasing his own release until he spills deep inside of you. The sound of your pathetic needy mewls as his spend paints your walls, earns a low hum of approval, though he doubts you’re conscious enough to bask in it.
“That’s what I thought.” He says, hands releasing your limbs while he pulls himself from your warmth, admiring the way he leaks out of you for a moment before his thick fingers are pushing his cum back into you with a laugh at the way you whine. “Perhaps you’ll think twice before trying to provoke me again.” His words are mocking despite knowing this is a lesson you will never learn. Sukuna hovers over you for a moment, watching your barely conscious form. If you could see it you’d swear he was on the verge of kissing you, the thought of you opening your eyes to see him so close with a look of…near fondness on his face is enough to make the King of Curses pull away. Muttering to himself he stalks over to where he’s cast off his robe, shrugging back into it with a mildly frustrated grunt before he calls out. “Uraume!”
The loyal servant of Sukuna appears in a near instant, obediently awaiting instruction. “Clean her up, tend to the bruises and…” He pauses for a moment, silently cursing himself for the impulsive mark he’s left behind. “And her neck.” It’s all he says before he stalks off to contemplate just how much of a mistake it was to keep you this close. He doesn’t see the way Uraume scowls at the task they’ve been given, he would hardly care if he did. He knows that they will complete the task to the best of their ability, and you’ll be cared for in the end.
Summary: You broke it off for good reason, but that doesn't mean Miguel is willing to let you go. Especially when he knows you aren't over him either.
Word Count: 9k (bro wtf)
Warnings: my poor attempt at some angst, cheating, violence, general language warning, fingering, pet names, miguel being a lil bossy, also miguel talking a lil shit ayyee, sex in risky places, choking, mirror sex.
A/N: Whew chile it's been a minute but this is me attempting to break my hiatus while also trying to feed yall some good ol mayans content. I was gonna break this up into two parts but then I said fuck it. Hope yall don't hate that. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.
It was never your intention to get involved with a married man, in fact all your life you swore that you’d never be a man’s mistress. That was before Miguel Galindo came sweeping into the little boutique looking to buy an anniversary gift for his wife. You had been swept up in the tailored suit, suave demeanor, smooth voice, and God was he charming. If you hadn’t known better you could have sworn he had been flirting with you the whole time you assisted him that day. It hadn’t gone further than that, you had insisted on trying not to cross that line.
He didn’t make it easy for you though, visits becoming more frequent and him insisting you be the one to lead him around the boutique as he shopped for various people in his life. It wasn’t until a heated moment when you almost cracked under the sexual tension that had built to the point that stifling was the only way it could be described. “You’re married.” You had told him, breathless as his mouth peppered kisses along your jaw and down your throat. His beard scratched against your soft skin as his fingers gripped against the curve of your hips.
“What if I wasn’t?” You didn’t know it but the man had been steadily growing disenchanted with his wife. The love he had once felt for her eventually giving way to resentment and well on its way to being nothing at all. It was her own doing, an inability to stay away from an ex boyfriend, keeping secrets, and not being able to accept his other world.
“If you weren’t we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” You breathed out, finally finding the will to push Miguel away from you so that you could steady your breathing and smooth out your clothes. “I’m not about to be your side chick, Miguel. And if you’re willing to cheat on your wife then you’re willing to do me dirty as well.” You explained, turning to look at yourself in the dressing room mirror while Miguel stood behind you with a sobering look on his face.
“I don’t love her anymore, she’s not the woman I thought she was. I’m only with her until the lawyers work out a way to ensure I get custody of my son.”
Your gaze met his in the mirror, a soft sigh on your lips as you tried to sort out how you felt about the admission. “Don’t make this harder on me.” You whisper, his confession didn’t change anything, he was still married and you were still concerned that he was just talking a good game. One you desperately wanted to believe. Picking up his purchases, you left him there in the dressing room, satisfied that you didn’t look like you had nearly let yourself be seduced by the man.
“Mrs. Galindo, what a surprise to see you here.” Came the voice of the shop owner, almost a bit too loud as if she were trying to warn you that the wife had just walked in. You sighed, just what you wanted to deal with that day. You stepped into the main area of the boutique, a forced smile on your lips as you took in the blonde standing there at the counter. She regarded you for a moment, almost dismissively with a sniff as she read the name on the badge you wore. It was a name she had seen often, in fact your name was on every single one of the receipts that Emily had pulled from the boutique's bags when she was going through them. Miguel always insisted you ring him up so that you reached your sales quota. Clearly Emily was feeling some type of way now that she was finally able to lay eyes on you.
You were everything she wasn’t in the looks department, and as confident as she was, you had her shook. Especially when Miguel appeared from the dressing room area of the store and took a moment to place a hand against your shoulder to offer his thanks for always being so helpful. It would have seemed innocent enough had it not been for the way that his hand lingered. Emily’s eyes had zeroed in on it, and Miguel seemed to be oblivious to that fact. You were hyper aware of it, a swell of guilt over taking you at the thought that you had nearly fucked this woman’s husband just minutes ago, and now he was acting like she wasn’t even standing there.
“Will this be all, Mr. Galindo?” You questioned, stepping away from him and starting to ring up his items while he seemed to take the hint that maybe, just maybe he should not make things harder on you while his wife was standing there.
“Yes, thank you.” He replied, tone taking on a more reserved quality as he moved to where his wife stood and greeted her with a kiss and a few affectionate words. To your credit you didn’t let yourself glare at the display, even as your stomach twisted with jealousy at the sight. You kept your eyes down, only looking up to give the total which Miguel paid for and then it happened. Emily Galindo found a way to make you feel a little less guilty about wanting to fuck her husband. As you lifted the bag to hand to Miguel, his wife reached out in a flash to snatch the bag from your hands. She had barely had your attention up until that point, but now? Now you were outright staring at her in a way that said the bitch had you all the way fucked up. As if sensing the tension, Miguel was quick to put an arm around Emily and escort her towards the door. Stopping to look over his shoulder to mouth ‘sorry’ at you as he shook his head.
After that day you were more aware of Emily Galindo’s presence around town, it was almost like she was making appearances just to be seen. Some days even stopping into the boutique to buy something and oh so innocently asking if there was anything to pick up for Miguel. You never assisted her, Emily even going out of her way to have someone else ring up the purchases so your quota would come up short. Of course when Miguel found out about that he found his ways around it, making sure that on the off chance that Emily would make an appearance in the boutique that everything was already paid for and the credit for the sale had gone to you. Things went on like that for a couple of weeks, and you tolerated it. Thinking nothing more of Emily’s behavior as petty, childish, and fueled by jealousy.
Then came the fateful day that you were working late, and just so happened to catch sight of Emily Galindo in the arms of another man. She even kissed him, on the cheek, the way her lips lingered giving you the impression that there was something more going on. You didn’t know why you did it, but you’d taken a couple of pictures of the exchange between Emily and the man that wore a Mayan kutte.
The temptation to attach the photos to a text and send them to Miguel was strong, but then the creeping thought of; what if she’s only been chased into the arms of another man because of Miguel’s interest in you? That was the only thing that kept you from setting Emily’s life on fire, but the reprieve would prove to be short lived when a week later Nestor made a rare solo appearance in the boutique as you were preparing to close up.
“Nestor, you know we’re closing in five minutes right?” You questioned, tone friendly and still welcoming even though you were partly concerned and confused about why he was there. You and Nestor had a cordial and somewhat friendly relationship, it was mostly due to Miguel seemingly insisting that you and his right hand man were on good terms. You didn’t know Nestor well, but you knew he was loyal and cared about Miguel deeply. It was something that you could respect and appreciate, even if you were resistant to starting something with Miguel due to his marriage you had grown to care about him. It was why the pictures of Emily and her mystery Mayan were still burning in your phone and why you’d taken a few more in the days after when her visits became a little more frequent.
“Yeah I know, I actually wanted to talk to you.” That got your attention, and your hands stilled against the shirts that you were folding.
“About?”
“What’s going on with you and Miguel?”
You took a breath, looking over at the man with an almost tired expression.
“Nothings going on.” You answered, gaze quickly dropping as you resumed your folding.
“But you want there to be something.” Nestor was observant, and you supposed you hadn’t been as covert as you possibly could have with your longing glances and wry smiles around Miguel. “You care about him?”
“Nestor what is this about? Because if you’re here to tell me I should leave him alone then trust me, I already know. Okay? I can’t control what that man does. He’s a cartel leader, he basically owns the town. I have been doing my best to set boundaries, but I can’t make him stop pursuing me. So if that’s why you’re here then you need to have that conversation with him, because I’ve already tried. Alright? I mean I remind him every single time I see him that he’s married.” You were rambling, venting almost as you started to unload all this on Nestor who just stood quietly and listened.
“Honestly, you don’t know how hard it is for me to see him and pretend that I don’t care about him as much as I do. Or keep things from him because I know it’s not my place to tell him what his wife has been up to.”
“Wait, what?”
You shut up then, realizing that in your unburdening you let it slip that you were privy to information that wasn’t known.
“What has his wife been up to?”
“Nestor—”
“If you care about him you’ll tell me what you know.”
That was a dirty card to play, but Nestor didn’t play fair. Sighing heavily you moved behind the sales counter and pulled your phone from where it rested beside the register. “About a week ago I was running a bit late with closing, and I spotted Emily with some guy in a biker kutte.” You explained pulling up the incriminating photos before handing the phone to Nestor so that he could see for himself. His lack of reaction struck you as strange, if anything he didn’t look surprised at all.
“Why didn’t you tell Miguel about it?” He questioned, tapping on the screen and quickly sending the photos to his phone before you could stop him.
“Well I didn’t think it would be fair of me to blow her up when I’m likely the reason she’s all hugged up with another man. I mean come on, you saw her that day when she came into the shop. I’m sure she’s aware that Miguel has a wandering eye.”
“He doesn’t have a wandering eye, he just doesn’t love her anymore.” Nestor replied absently as he sat your phone down and focused on his own. “And you aren’t the reason why she stepped out. Miguel’s been suspicious for months now that she’s been trying to rekindle something with her ex.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, brow furrowed as you processed that bit of information. So Miguel hadn’t been lying when he said he was preparing to leave her, and you weren’t the reason why she was seemingly stepping out. That seemed to make any remaining guilt evaporate in an instant.
“Nestor, could you tell him to call me?” Nestor just nodded, not questioning it as he left you to finish closing up the boutique.
By the time you got home, Miguel’s name was flashing across your screen and for the first time since he’d manage to somehow get your number, you didn’t chastise him for calling you so late.
Things only escalated from there, and the two of you began to see much more of each other. There were late night visits, gifts, dates out of town, sometimes even out of state. You’d even been in his house, and around his son and mother while Emily was out doing who knew what. His men had even gotten used to seeing you around, growing fond of you as you always came bearing gifts and a friendly smile for them. Part of you knew that endearing yourself to them would play a big part in them wanting to keep Miguel’s secret relationship with you out of more than just fear of the man.
Emily still made her appearances, and tempted you to throw it in her face that you knew she wasn’t as devoted and loyal as she tried to pretend she was. You let the truth die on your tongue as you kept up the mask of professionalism while knowing Miguel would be buried inside you by the end of the day.
You put up with it for another month, and in that time things seemed to take a turn for Emily Thomas. First her Mayan ex found himself with a new girlfriend, a pretty girl named Gabriela that you thought was sweet. She’d only come into the boutique you worked at a couple of times looking for a new dress, and you two had chatted easily. You may or may not have told her to leave herself open to the possibility of something blooming between her and the Mayan who you had come to know was named Ezekiel. Apparently Gaby had taken your advice, and now with no other romantic option, Emily was doing her best to try and hold onto her dead marriage.
Her answer to attempting to stoke the flame between her and Miguel was a resort trip, one where it’d just be her and him while their son remained with a nanny. Jealousy had sparked at that, especially when Miguel agreed to the trip with the excuse of having to keep up appearances. You had been angry, but then you decided to be petty.
It was just a few pictures, pictures of you wearing nothing but the most recent set of very pricey lingerie that Miguel had gifted you. It was meant to simply remind him what he was missing out on, but apparently it was more effective than you expected. The end of your shift came, and as if on cue Miguel’s black suv came to a halt in front of the building. Before you knew it you were being ushered inside the spacious backseat, and he had you in his arms as he pulled you into his lap with a searing kiss on your lips.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with her.” You questioned once you’d caught your breath, and your head had stopped swimming from the kiss.
“I told her there was an emergency here in Santo Padre, I have to go back in the morning.” He answered, and you didn’t need him to elaborate on what the emergency was. You could feel it pressing up against your core. Something about knowing that the man would rather be with you than on some sunny beach with her stoked your ego in the worst way. Miguel only fed into it as he let his mouth latch onto your neck to leave a trail of open mouth kisses.
“You just couldn’t resist sending me those pictures could you?” He questioned a moment later, his hands already venturing under your skirt to push your panties aside. By the time the vehicle had pulled off from in front of the boutique he was knuckle deep inside of you, and you were moaning into his neck shamelessly. You were aware of the man in the front seat driving, and to his credit he made sure to keep his eyes on the road and took it upon himself to turn on the radio. It was a false sense of privacy, but you hardly cared as Miguel’s fingers worked that spongy spot nestled in your core that never failed to have your toes curling.
“I had to remind you what you had waiting on you back home.” You managed to get out, your lipstick smudging against his collar as you moved against his fingers. “Had to give you something to think about in case you had to fuck her.” You added with a mischievous grin that had him growling in the back of his throat.
“Oh preciosa, were you jealous?” His fingers thrust into you more insistently, bringing a needy moan out of you. “Were you worried that you’d have to share cock this with her?” His question had you pouting for a moment, hating that it was true. “Don’t worry, princesa. It won’t be long before she’s out of the picture, and you’ll have me all to yourself.” It was a promise, you knew it, but part of you was growing impatient with how long things were taking. Luckily for Miguel his fingers inside you were proving to be the perfect distraction from you asking how much longer it’d be before he presented the divorce papers.
“I’m close, Miguel.” You moaned, hearing his hum of approval as he snaked his free hand up to grip you by the back of your neck as he guided you in for another heated kiss. He worked his fingers against that sweet spot until you were falling over the edge and crying out for him. Miguel swallowed your moans greedily, fingers still thrusting into you as he let you ride out your orgasm against them.
“That’s my good girl, let’s get inside.” He gave your ass a slap, jolting you back to reality enough for you to realize that he’d brought you to his house. Quickly you moved out of his lap and smoothed out your clothes to be presentable before you got out of the vehicle. There was no need to sneak in, his staff knew you by that point and seemed to like you more than they did Emily. In any case, Miguel wasted no time in getting you into his bedroom and having his way with you. At some point after a couple rounds, and a steamy shower you had pulled Miguel in front of the bathroom mirror to snap a picture with him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken a picture with him, and just like all the other ones you’d posted on your insta you made sure his face was concealed.
As the saying goes; No face, no case.
Except for the fact that you didn’t expect Emily to hunt down your instagram after the vacation was over and she had been stewing with her suspicions. You also didn’t expect her to recognize the setting. More importantly you didn’t expect her to show up at the boutique one night, screaming and raving that she knew you were fucking her husband. Unfortunately that was exactly what had happened.
Emily blew into the boutique like a storm, making a beeline for you only to be cut off by the two employees that were working while the owner quickly ushered you to the back. You could hear it all though, she sounded insane and she was clearly looking for an altercation. Before you even knew what you were doing you were dialing Miguel.
“Preciosa, I’m going to hav—”
“How much do you still love your wife?” The question struck him silent for all of a second before you could hear the sound of him moving away from the voices in the background.
“What type of question is that, you know I don’t.”
“I’m just making sure, because she’s here making a fucking scene and if I have to put hands on her I’m not about to hesitate.”
“Mi amor, I’m on my way. Don’t do anything drastic.”
“I’ll try, but if she doesn’t leave I’m going to make her.” You hung up then, the sound of Emily’s yelling floating back to settle on your ears before you made your way back to the front. You refused to hide from her, and if she wanted smoke you had plenty of it for her. Her yelling ceased for only a moment, just long enough for you to reappear from the back to see her on the phone before she was looking up at you again with an accusing glance.
“Did you fucking call my husband? You whore! You did, didn't you!” She hadn’t hung up the phone, and you could hear Miguel’s voice shouting for Emily to calm down. It was too late for that, and she had already pushed through the two employees that had been trying to keep you two separated. “You’re so pathetic, you had to call MY husband to save you!”
And then she slapped you.
Everything went quiet, so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping.
“I don’t need a man to save me, bitch. But you’re gonna.” It was the only warning that you gave the bleach blonde before your fist struck out and connected with her nose. There was a crunch but that didn’t stop you from following her down as she fell to the ground. Your fist connected a few more times, before she was grappling with you, having the nerve to pull on your hair before you broke her hold and popped her right in the mouth. Your fist was raised to land another blow before you felt yourself being lifted in the air by strong arms, and your first instinct was to fight until a familiar voice cut through the chaos.
“¡Cálmate, por favor!” It was Miguel, you had no idea where he had been to get there so fast but you could feel him keeping a firm grip on you as you made an attempt to lunge at Emily as she crawled, stumbled, and dragged herself to her feet unsteadily.
“Call the police! I want the police!” She screamed, already playing the victim even though she had instigated the ass beating she’d just got.
“Em—” Miguel had started only to be cut off.
“No, I want the cops here. Or I want that slut dealt with.” She was bleeding from the mouth, and shaking as she looked around wildly only to find that no one was making a move to do what she wanted.
“I’m so sorry, Senor Galindo. Your wife, she…” The owner of the boutique shook her head as she glanced between you and the beaten Emily. “She came in here screaming, and then she attacked her. My employee was just defending herself.” The woman explained motioning to you, not realizing that Miguel already knew exactly what had transpired after overhearing the exchange after Emily had forgotten to hang up her phone before she attacked.
“Is this true?” The question was posed to his men that had accompanied Emily into the boutique and simply stood back and let it all play out. They nodded silently and Emily seemed to realize then that she had no allies. “Nestor, take this young lady and put her in my car.” You couldn’t see it over your shoulder, but you could feel the anger radiating off of Miguel as he glared hard at Emily. Nestor said nothing as he gathered you under one of his arms and guided you past Emily who had the good sense to jump back when you came close. She didn’t move fast enough and Nestor didn’t have as tight of a hold on you as he thought, because as soon as you were close enough you lunged, hands grabbing and latching onto Emily’s blonde hair.
“Shit!” Nestor shouted, moving after you to drag you back but it was too late. Your grip was already locked in and as he dragged you towards the door of the boutique Emily was dragged along with you kicking and screaming. It took some doing, but between three grown men they were able to get you off of her and outside, but not before you had one last thing to say.
“Let me know when you’re ready for round two, bitch!” You could hear Nestor sigh as he led you outside, and ushered you into the back seat of Miguel’s car.
“You okay?” He questioned, sighing again when you didn’t answer and focused your attention on the view outside the window. You were too pissed to speak at the moment, hands still shaking as your body practically vibrated with rage as you fought every instinct to not rush back inside and finish what Emily had started. Just when you were ready to go and do that, Miguel appeared and silently climbed into the back of the vehicle. Carefully he took your shaking hands into his and brought his lips to your aching knuckles to drop gentle kisses against them as he murmured his apologies.
“I am so sorry, mi amor. This should have never happened, you should have never been put into a situation where you would have to fight because of me.” His words were a bit of a balm to your still simmering temper, and a reminder that you were clearly his priority despite his current marital status. Still that wasn’t enough, and after what had just happened you were done waiting for the right time or the right moment.
“I’m not doing this anymore.” You said simply, causing Miguel to pause and meet your gaze. “I’m not about to be on the sideline while you play house with that unstable bitch. You either figure your shit out and divorce her or you leave me the fuck alone.”
You could see the hard set in Miguel’s jaw as he let your words settle in his mind. “Preciosa I—”
“No! That woman came to my job, called me out my name, and put hands on me. You don’t get to sweet talk your way out of this. I’m done until you show me that you’re no longer a married man.” You hated giving an ultimatum but the events of the night had left you with no choice. “Oh, and if I see her again I’m beating her ass on sight every time. Now take me home.”
Miguel hadn’t argued with you, letting you stay on your side of the vehicle the entire ride back to your place. His attempt at saying goodbye was cut off by the slamming of the suv’s door as you stalked to the front door of your apartment.
A month went by with no calls, no text, and no appearances from Miguel. Emily was MIA as well, and life was quiet. Part of you figured that Miguel had turned out to be just another married man who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. So you did the only thing you could, you tried to move on despite the bitter heartache that you felt. You figured it was the price you had to pay for falling for a married man, rarely did they ever actually leave their wives. Especially when there was a child in the mix. You didn’t doubt that he wanted out, but the saying has always been ‘it’s cheaper to keep her’ for a reason.
By the second month you found yourself in a new relationship with a man who was single when he met you. He was kind, handsome, he had a good job, and he doted on you. He didn’t judge you when you finally told him why your last relationship fell through. Another four months passed and the relationship blossomed, you weren’t necessarily in love with him yet, but you thought to yourself that you could see yourself falling if things stayed that good. At least that was what you kept telling yourself in an effort to bury that little bit of your heart that still yearned for Miguel.
The fact that he was on your mind when you heard the knock at your front door should have been a warning, but you weren’t expecting any visitors that evening so cautiously you made way towards it.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, preciosa.” It’d been so long that you were surprised enough to immediately open the door just to make sure that voice belonged to who you thought it did. Seeing Miguel standing there had you torn between slamming the door in his face or inviting him in. “Can we talk?”
He was lucky that you were calmer now that enough time had passed. Seeing him again seemed to rip open old wounds, and as much as you didn’t want to you couldn’t help but stare. He was the last person you expected to show up at your door, and part of you was happy to see him again. Another part of your though was torn and wary at his presence. He wanted to talk, and despite your warring emotions you wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Yeah, we can talk.” You stepped aside and gave him room to enter your humble apartment. Closing and locking the door behind him you watched as Miguel made himself comfortable on your sofa and waited for you to settle in beside him. You sat yourself at the far end of the sofa, giving him an expectant look that whatever he needed to say now was the time to say it.
“The divorce got messy,” He started, and you could feel your heart stammer in your chest. You expected him to say that Emily convinced him to stay with her, but his next words surprise you. “It took longer than I wanted once papers were served, but it’s done.”
“It’s done?” You repeated the words, and he nodded.
“She tried to use the photos from your social media as proof that I cheated first. The judge threw it out because there was no actual proof that it was me in the photos.”
Despite the seriousness of the moment you let out a small laugh. No face, no case indeed.
“Ironically enough, her attacking you that night was enough for me to convince the judge to grant me full custody of Cristobal. She still gets supervised visits though.” He continued to explain.
You merely nodded, accepting that. “She’s his mother, it’d be cruel to cut her out of his life entirely.” You replied, keeping your tone even. “Now that you’ve gotten everything that you wanted, what are you doing here?”
Miguel shook his head, moving closer to you until he was close enough to pull you against him. “I don’t have everything I want. I don’t have you back with me yet.” It would have been so easy to simply give in right then and there, being in his arms again felt so right, and knowing that all this time he’d been wanting you helped to heal the heartache. But then your mind wandered to your current boyfriend, and you forced yourself to ease your way out of Miguel’s arms and once again put some distance between the two of you. You hated to see the confusion that crossed his features, but the man you were dating now was a good man and he didn’t deserve to have you stepping out on him now that Miguel was choosing to pop back into your life.
“Look, I’m happy that you’re out of an unhappy marriage,” you started, steeling yourself for what you had to say next. “But when I didn’t hear from you for two months I stopped waiting around.” You told him, and before he could interrupt you continued. “I know you probably couldn’t have come around or reached out personally because of the divorce proceedings, but a man like you has so many resources and you didn’t use any of them. You can’t blame me for thinking you chose your marriage over what we hav—had.” You were quick to correct yourself, but Miguel heard the small slip up and it told him what he needed to know.
“You’re right, mi amor. I assumed you would wait, and that was unfair to do without letting you know what was happening, but—”
“No buts, Miguel. I’m with someone now, I have a boyfriend that has no attachments to another woman and he treats me really well. He makes me happy,” but Miguel made you feel so much more than happy, and you knew it, but the thought of breaking another’s heart so selfishly had you refusing to acknowledge what you truly wanted. “I...I think you should go, thank you for letting me know the time we spent together was real but I can’t just jump back into bed with you now that you’re free. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve that.”
It wasn’t the answer Miguel wanted to hear, but you were determined to at least try and be a good person this time around. Miguel nodded, jaw set so hard you could see the muscle ticking when he stood to his feet and walked towards the door of your apartment. You hated to let him go, and you knew better than to look over your shoulder in his direction but you still did it anyway. “I’m not giving up on us, preciosa. Your new man might be good, but he’s not me.”
His words lingered in your mind long after he was gone, and you wondered what he was planning. You found out a week later when you went to pay rent only to be told that it had been paid up for the remainder of your lease. You hadn’t exactly been excited to hear that, and your attempts to call or text Miguel had all led to you being unable to reach him. A week after that a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a box in a certain recognizable blue shade was delivered to your door, you knew it was from Miguel. Your new man always got you roses instead of your favorites, and the two of you weren’t in the jewelry giving stage of your new relationship yet, and seeing that blue box had you suddenly feeling wary. A quick search on the website had you furiously dialing Miguel’s number, only for him to send you to voicemail. Your texts were left on read, and despite knowing that he was forcing your hand to go to him, you did anyway. You needed to return this damn necklace and let Miguel know that you weren’t about to be swayed by expensive gifts.
The guards, and the household staff were all too happy to see you again, and despite your determination to put boundaries in place you couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling of being back there. God you missed him, and this place, and all the people here but you were resolute in your decision to not give in to the temptation of running back to Miguel.
“He’s been expecting you.” The familiar voice of Nestor informed you once you stepped into the living room. Eyeing the little blue Tiffany’s bag in your hand he merely shook his head and motioned towards the direction of Miguel’s office. You offered up a quiet thank you, heels clacking loudly against the expensive flooring of the Galindo mansion. You didn’t stop at the door, striding in with purpose and confidence that nearly collapsed at the sight of Miguel sitting behind his desk in a suit that only made him look more attractive than he already was.
“Preciosa, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” His question caused you to narrow your eyes in his direction. He knew damn well why you were there, but clearly he was going to play games. You huffed, annoyed that you weren’t really all that annoyed as you sat the Tiffany’s bag on his desk with an expectant look on your face. Miguel followed the movement, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he reached out to slide it towards himself. “So you got my gift, good, but you didn’t have to come all this way just to thank me.”
Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. “I’m not here to thank you Miguel, I’m here to return that ridiculously expensive necklace.”You shot back, doing your best to stand firm when Miguel stood from his chair and began to slowly circle his way around his desk. A desk that held several memories that you were trying not to think of at the present moment. “I’m not in the habit of taking back gifts, mi amor.” He replied, voice smooth as honey while he kept you in his sights. For a moment you felt like prey being closed in on by the wolf, and truly you might as well have been considering you’d done exactly as Miguel wanted you to by going to see him that day.
“Miguel, that necklace is over one hundred thousand dollars. I can’t accept something like that from you.” You challenged, gasping when the sudden feeling of Miguel’s hands on your waist all but burned through the dress you wore. For a moment you simply stood there, nails biting into your palms as you curled them into fists to fight off the urge to reach out and touch Miguel. it was all you could do to steel yourself and resist the man that was testing your patience like no one else could.
“You can and you will.” Slowly he turned you around, making you face his desk while he stood close enough for his body heat to seep into you, and the smell of his cologne to invade your senses. You hadn’t realized that your eyes had slipped closed until they flew open at the feeling of cold metal against your warm skin. Before you could protest Miguel quickly fastened the far too pricey necklace around your neck, leaving the diamond pendant to settle against the hollow of your throat. You didn’t expect the feeling of his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw after that, and the soft gasp that flew from your lips was unmistakable.
For a moment you just let yourself stay there relishing the feeling of his beard softly scraping against your soft skin as he left a slow trail of kisses along your shoulderblade, but soon enough warning bells began to ring loud and clear in your mind. This was dangerous, and you were falling right into the trap that you swore you were going to avoid. Quickly you stepped away from Miguel, needing space to breathe and distance so you could think clearly. “Dammit.” You cursed under your breath, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes while you tried to avoid looking at the man who you were desperately trying to resist. “Why? Why are you doing this?” You questioned, tone accusing as you motioned between the two of you.
You knew why, but some twisted part of you needed to hear him say it.
“Because I love you, preciosa, and I’m not giving up on us when I know you still feel the same about me.” His words cut like a knife right through all the bullshit reasons you’d been repeating to yourself since the day he’d shown up to tell you he was done with Emily, and still wanting you. Every rebuttal that you had died on your tongue, no denial of your own feelings would make its way past your lips. All you could do was rush from the room before he could get his hands on you again.
You didn’t remember the necklace until later that day after you’d taken a long shower to try and wash away the guilt of being in love with another man while you had a devoted and caring boyfriend. The diamond pendant glared at you from the mirror, glinting brightly in the low lights and reminding you of the moment that Miguel had put it on you. You had half a mind to take it off, you should have taken it off, and yet when you moved to do so you couldn’t bring yourself to remove Miguel’s token of affection from around your throat. Perhaps you were a bad person, the invasive thought trickled in making you turn away from the mirror with a frustrated sigh.
That night you didn’t sleep peacefully. You tossed and turned all night, memories of Miguel invading your dreams and leaving you on edge and irritable by the time morning came. An early morning text from your boyfriend was left on read, your shift at the boutique dragged on, and by the end of the day you only barely remembered that it was date night. You didn’t want to go, but you knew that your boyfriend had jumped through hoops and saved all so he could treat you to dinner at some expensive restaurant an hour outside of town. For some odd reason the thought of it filled you with dread, like there was something looming just on the horizon that you couldn’t see yet. It had a pit settling in your stomach as you rushed home to shower, primp, and get dressed for something that had you feeling damned.
The car ride to the restaurant was spent with you engaging in the most minimal conversation while your fingers toyed idly with Miguel’s necklace. When asked what had you so down you simply lied, playing it off as just being tired from having to work that day. Your boyfriend bought the excuse easily enough, and by the end of the drive you were starting to feel guilty for your sour mood. You resolved yourself to be in a better mood for the rest of the evening, reminding yourself that just a month ago you were excited about the prospect of dinner at this place. So with a convincing, yet fake, smile you walked hand in hand into the building with your boyfriend.
Your smile immediately deflated when you saw that the table you were to be sitting at was only a few tables away from one currently occupied by Miguel and another woman. Instantly you felt dizzy. Thankfully you were already in the process of sitting, otherwise you were sure that you would have fallen over from the shock of seeing the man again so soon, and with another woman in his face. Anger, and bitter jealousy swirled in the pit of your stomach as you glanced over at their table from the corner of your eye. There was no telling what they were discussing, and Miguel’s back was to you so you couldn’t see his expression. All you knew was that he was making this woman smile, and she was laughing a bit too much for your liking.
With a deep breath in, and a slow exhale out you forced yourself to ignore it and try to enjoy your night. It was easier said than done but you managed to get through appetizers and a couple glasses of wine before everything seemingly came crashing down. It started with your boyfriend nervously gearing up to say something while you worriedly waited for him to spit whatever it was he wanted to say out.
“I’ve been trying to think of the best way to say this but, um…well the best way to say it is to just say it.” He paused for a moment, and you nervously brought your glass of wine to your lips with the intention of sipping at it. “I love you.”
You choked and sputtered into your wine glass, some of it spilling out and landing on your dress while you clumsily tried to place your glass back onto the table. It landed on the edge, and soon it shattered on the floor with a crash while you were jumping out of your seat. Your gaze moved to Miguel’s table, meeting his gaze as he watched you curiously before noticing the man on the other side of the table trying to help clean up the mess. His gaze grew hard and dangerous at the sight of your boyfriend, and the only thing you could think to do was leave. “I need to go, sorry.” Words rushed out of you as you turned on your heels and nearly ran to the restroom, choosing to take the individual family stall for a bit of much needed privacy.
You didn’t see Miguel excusing himself from his own table and following after you at a distance, nor did you expect him to take advantage of you forgetting to lock the door behind you and slipping into the restroom stall. You were caught up in trying to steady your breathing and fight back the wave of nausea that had hit you that you didn’t even notice Miguel there at first. Too busy cursing yourself for being so stupid and selfish and letting things get this far, how had you missed the signs that things had gotten this serious? Were you truly that oblivious to the man you were dating falling in love with you?
“God dammit.” You hissed, a hand smacking down on the sink as you resisted the urge to yell in frustration. There was no way you could go back out there and return the sentiment without it being a lie, and now more than ever it was clear that you wouldn’t ever get there with your boyfriend. You were still very much in love with Miguel, and seeing him tonight with someone else only made that abundantly clear.
“Mi amor…” His voice was both a balm, and salt in the wound. The sound of it had you whirling around to face him, and before you could stop yourself you had stalked over to him and laid a hard slap against his cheek.
“Who is she?” You demanded, ignoring the hard flash of his eyes when he refocused on you. “Who is that woman out there? Does she know about me? Does she know that you were lying to me just yesterday about still loving me?” You pushed at his chest, anger, shame, and hurt all mixing into one confusing emotion as you lashed out. God you felt so stupid, and suddenly the necklace that hung daintily around your neck felt heavy as an anchor. Miguel caught your hands in an iron grip, quickly backing you up against the restroom's sink, and with his other hand he grabbed you by the chin.
“Calm the fuck down.” His tone was darker than you’d ever heard it, and laced with something else that you could clearly identify as lust. It had you swallowing thickly, and suddenly remembering yourself. “That woman is a business associate that I’m trying to impress. Nothing more, nothing less.” The explanation was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the outburst, and unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Look at me.” The command was followed almost instantly, and you couldn’t help but squirm under the intensity of Miguel’s stare. “I meant everything I said.” He continued, leaning in close enough to tease you with the closeness of his mouth to yours.
“I—”
“No. You don’t get to speak unless you’re begging me to remind you who all this,” He emphasizes the word by letting go of your hands to instead grab a handful of your ass. “belongs to.” Clearly you weren’t the only one feeling the jealousy of seeing the one you loved with someone else. Heat swirled in the pit of your belly, and the all too familiar ache that only Miguel could sate settled in. Heart hammering in your chest you let out a shuddering breath and nodded to which Miguel only jerked you forward the smallest bit. “Use your words, mi amor.”
“Please.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to spur him into action. Your dress was pushed up over your hips and in a quick move Miguel had you spun around and facing the mirror. All you could do was brace your hands against the restroom's sink as the sound of a zipper coming down filled your ears. Eyes closed you swallowed a moan when you felt your panties being pulled to the side before his length was dragging against your damp folds. You ground back against him, only for him to catch you by the hips and force your movements to still. Slowly he teased you, spreading your slick arousal over his length until you were whimpering and begging him to fuck you.
Finally he had mercy on you and began to press his way inside your tight entrance. You bit down on your bottom lip, quieting the moan that desperately wanted to make its way out of you. He sank into you slowly, taking his time in getting reacquainted with the feel of you wrapped around him and sucking him in deeper. You pushed back, already greedy for more of him after denying yourself for so long. Breath rushed from you at the first snap of his hips, and you barely had time to try and catch it before another hard thrust of his cock jolts your hips forward only for you to sink back onto him with a shaky moan that’s almost too loud for your current setting.
“Not so loud, preciosa. We wouldn’t want everyone to hear you getting fucked like a slut.” Miguel’s taunting had you clenching around him, and when you felt his hand snaking up your side and wrapping around your throat to squeeze you couldn’t help but moan again. Eyes locked on the reflection of the two of you, you felt as if you couldn’t look away from Miguel as he finally claimed what he had been missing for all those months. He wasn’t gentle as he rutted into you, making you take every thick inch while his hand squeezed around your throat just enough to keep your air restricted.
“Fuck, that’s it…that’s my good girl.” He ground out between his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough that you were sure anyone on the other side of the door could hear if they were close enough. Not that you expected anyone to interrupt or try to get past whoever was likely guarding the door. Knowing that someone outside possibly knew what was happening inside the restroom only excited you further, and any thought of your boyfriend being the one to hear the two of you was far from your mind. The only man that existed in the moment was the one currently pounding into you from behind. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He said, and you could only nod with a desperate moan when you felt him thrusting into you harder.
His unrelenting pace had you nearing the edge quicker than you realized, and when you felt his other hand sliding between your thighs so that his fingers could circle against your bundle of nerves you were teetering on the edge. Eyes falling shut you tried to chase your high, but Miguel had other plans. “Open your fucking eyes, watch yourself cum on this cock.” The growled words had your eyes snapping open to view the lewd scene before he had you cumming with a strained cry. Walls pulsing and clenching down around his cock, Miguel was no match for the way your body milked him for his spend. Spilling every drop as deeply as he could inside of you with a strained curse on his lips. The hand at your throat loosened and you sucked in air, panting and legs shaky when you tried to stand yourself up properly. Miguel steaded you before he silently fixed your clothes back in place and turned you back around to face him.
“You’re going to go out there with me dripping out of you and break up with him.”
Suddenly you remembered who you were there at the restaurant with and guilt began to settle in and sour the post-coital bliss.
“No more excuses, now it’s your turn to show me you’re serious. I’m done sharing my woman with some undeserving bastard.” Reaching up to take you by the chin he directed your gaze to his. “Either you end it with him, or I’ll do it myself.” The ultimatum was followed by a searing kiss that left you stunned for a moment. “Your choice, mi amor, but one way or another you’re coming home tonight.”
Miguel left you then, exiting the restroom and leaving you to grapple with what you’d just done, and what he expected from you now. Taking in a deep breath you knew you had only one option, so you made the awkward trip back to your table. Sitting back down you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of arousal and guilt as Miguel’s spend continued to drip from your core while you sat there preparing to break up with your boyfriend.
“I don’t love you, and I don’t think I ever will and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that but it’s over.” You rushed your way through the words but you could tell that your now ex boyfriend had understood each and every one. He sat in silence for a moment, jaw working as he did his best to keep his emotions in check. You simply sat in silence, watching him as he stood up abruptly, threw a few bills on the table to cover the dinner, and with a glace over his shoulder glared at Miguel who was now alone and watching it all play out. Part of you suspected he might have said or done something in the time it took you to get yourself together before returning but you didn’t care to ask.
Soon enough you were left at the table by yourself, and moments later joined by Miguel who stood by your chair with his hand outstretched. Silently you slipped your hand into his and let him guide you up from your chair and towards the entrance.
Summary: He just wants a taste, no need to wake you up for that.
Word Count: 777
Warnings: general language warning, somnophilia, cunnilingus, venom shows what that mouf do, tongue fucking, restraints (by venom's tentacles??? tendrils??? what do we call it??), petnames (morsel), mentions of eddie
A/N: DAY NINE OF KINKTOBER, and its monsterfucker hours bitches! Anyways, all mistakes are mine so pardon any errors or typos I'm sure I missed a few. The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.
You’re in bed when the hulking mass of symbiote creeps into the bedroom window, it’s clear that you tried to wait up for him and his host. Tiredness obviously won out, and you’re sleeping peacefully on top of the covers. Venom hums the sound deep and low and you shudder in your deep slumber and roll over so that your body is facing him. Even in your sleep you seek him out, and it has both him and Eddie preening at how lucky they are that you accept them and want them both.
“Look at her Eddie, so soft. A delicate little morsel.”
“Let her sleep, Ven…” Eddie tries to reason, but even he can’t deny how good you look in his bed wearing nothing but one of his favorite tee shirts. It’s why he doesn’t stop the symbiote from creeping into the bed and letting the inky black tendrils of his form creep up your bare thighs to spread them. You whine in your sleep, the feeling of being teased bringing wetness to your folds until they’re slick and Venom can smell just how needy you are. A guttural growl has you mewling softly, you’ve heard that sound before. Your subconscious knows it’s Venom. If you were awake you might smirk at the effect you have on him.
“Just a little taste, Eddie. She will not mind.”
It’s true, you won’t, they both know it and Eddie puts up no fight when the careful movements of Venom places him between your spread legs, and your legs are moved to either side of his head.
You’re dreaming about something when you first feel the slick tongue of Venom slithering through your folds. Whatever the dream is about it quickly shifts to a very vivid image of the symbiote between your thighs. You moan sleepily, head tossing to one side when your body registers the feeling of that wicked tongue sliding into your damp core. It writhes inside you, reaching deeper than any human tongue could. You can feel every shift and flex of the fleshy muscle as it slithers deeper inside of you. It has you gasping, moaning, and whimpering in no time flat. You don’t wake yet, still too deep in your sleep to realize that your dream isn’t a dream at all and that’s why the pleasure you feel is all too real.
Big hands frame your hips and you sigh at the sensation of the symbiote’s touch against your heated skin. “Mmm...Ven…” You slur out tiredly, hips shifting against the bed, as a hand slowly moves to try and push him away from where he’s hunkered between your legs. You don’t register your movements, enjoying your dream too much to realize that your sleeping body is reacting much how you would if you were awake. A deep chuckle vibrates against your core when the symbiote laughs at your unconscious efforts. Tendrils snake out from his obsidian form, pinning your hands down to the bed by the wrists as his tongue curls, thrusts and continues to writhe inside your tight channel. You’re already so wet, but even in sleep your body reacts to being restrained by Venom and a new wave of slick coats his tongue as it fills you. It’s a sight to see, and even Eddie isn’t unaffected by it, his cock stiffening while the symbiote remains in control of both of your bodies. Venom takes care of that too, not even breaking his focus on you and finding that sweet spot nestled inside you.
He makes you cum when the pressure that’s been building is finally too much, and your body can no longer hold back the inevitable climax. Your legs squeeze around his head, but he barely feels it, his only focus is letting his tongue collect every bit of your release. That isn’t what wakes you though, no, it’s the sound of your crying out in pleasure that finally wakes you and you jolt awake tired, and panting heavily as you look around wildly before your gaze settles between your thighs. You let your head fall back against the pillows with a soft thud, and a breathless laugh that morphs into a moan when Venom’s tongue slithers out of you. You suddenly feel empty and despite the sensitivity that always follows your climax you can’t help but want him inside you again.
“Well hello to you too, Venom.” You huff out, attempting to lift one of your hands so that you can wipe at your clammy brow, only you can’t move either and you roll your eyes back down to where Venom still remains. “Ven…”
So, purely for scientific reasons, let's say you and Ari are friends.
Just friends.
But you need an opinion on a new outfit and he's honest - always has been when it comes to you.
So he's sitting there while you're showing off each one. There's a black, silky little number that gets his attention.
So he tells you that's the one, the one that you should go with because you'll be out with your girls, right?
Until you tell him that's actually a date.
Ruin The Friendship
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Characters: Best Friend!Ari Levinson x woc!reader
Summary: *see the ask above*
Word Count: 973
Warnings: general language warning, implied future smut
A/N: Just a little something that's long overdue but I'm trying to get the writer brain to turn back on. I gave it a look over but I'm sure I missed some typos and errors. As usual the divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don't forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.
"Okay what about this one?" You ask, stepping out of your closet in a short skirt and cropped halter combination. Ari lays back in your bed, comfortable and looking more tempting than sin. You quickly push that thought from your mind, he's just a friend. Your best friend to be exact, and he's never been one to beat around the bush with you so if he hasn't made a move then clearly he isn't interested in being more than that.
Right?
"I don't know, it's a little basic for a night out." He answers after giving you a look over. You heave a sigh, rolling your eyes at him before throwing your head back with a dramatic groan.
"Basic? Ari, when was the last time you wore something that wasn't made out of flannel or blue jean fabric?" You shoot back, laughing when he launches a pillow at you that you easily side step.
"You called me, remember, sugar?" He shoots back, blue gaze drifting down to your ass when you turn your back to return to your closet and try again to find that perfect outfit. Ari sighs quietly, letting his eyes drift up to your ceiling while he reaches down to adjust the half hard bulge in his pants that he's carefully hidden behind the stuffed bear he got for you last Valentines day. He's sure if you knew half the thoughts running through his head right now that it'd ruin the friendship.
He's tempted to clue you in regardless, and just when he starts to weigh the pros and cons of doing that you reemerge in a dress that has him stuck on stupid for a moment.
"Okay what about this one?" You chime, striking a couple poses before turning in a slow spin to show all angles of the dress. Ari curses under his breath, the sight of you in the short black slip dress that's clinging to your curves and draped over you just right has him ready to risk it all just to taste you.
For a while he doesn't say anything, he just sits up a little straighter and looks you over from head to toe. It's not until you call his name softly with a hint of insecurity in your voice that he snaps out of it. "That's it. I don't need to see anything else." That's a lie, there's a lot more of you that he's dying to see but he bites his tongue.
You grin, quickly rushing over to your full length mirror to look yourself over so you can try to visualize the rest of your look. "I think you're right, Johnny is going to lose his mind when he sees me in this."
Ari swears he can hear a record scratch and freeze frame when you say that. "Who the fuck is Johnny?" He doesn't mean to ask that out loud, but before his brain can catch up to his mouth the words are out there and you're turning around to look at him like he's lost his mind. "I thought you were trying to pick out an outfit to go out with your girls."
You let out a shocked laugh, not sure how to take his question or the fact that he seems bothered by the fact that you're planning to see another man. "Relax, he's just a guy I'm going out with tonight." You say, shrugging as if your stomach isn't doing flips right now at the thought of Ari possibly being jealous.
"No." It's such a simple response from him, but it has you blinking in confusion all the same.
"Excuse me?"
Ari moves out of your bed, advancing on you with slow calculated steps as he eyes you with lust and hunger. "I said no."
As sexy as he's being right now that still doesn't exactly settle for you and you scoff with a roll of your eyes. "Riiiiight, so unless you have a damn good reason for why I shouldn't, then I'm going on my date."
Ari chuckles, coming to a stop in front you so close that you have to tip your head back to meet his pretty blue eyes. "Gonna be hard to go on a date when you're pinned under me for the rest of the night."
You don't expect that from him, and you're unable to stop the shaky breath that escapes you. You clench around nothing, heat pooling low and a tell tale heartbeat thumping steadily between your thighs. Breathing in deep you try to take a calming breath and cross your arms over your chest. "Really? Because you haven't made a move yet an—"
Before you can finish Ari dips down and his shoulder meets your middle as he hoists you over his shoulder. You let out a small scream of surprise, clearly not expecting him to just pick you up like he has and you certainly don't expect for him to drop you onto your bed a moment later. He's on you before you can shoot off a smart mouthed comment, pressing between your easily spreading thighs and letting you feel the hard bulge of his cock through his jeans.
You can't help the way you moan at the friction of the rough fabric pressing hard against your damp panty covered sex. Grinding against him you throw caution to the wind and reach up to sink your fingers into his hair to pull him down for a heated kiss. All thoughts of Johnny are gone from your mind, and if you know him half as well as you think you do you know he'll find someone else to take your place. Why not spend the rest of your night ruining your friendship with Ari doing the one thing you've been dreaming of for longer than you care to admit.
Summary: You leave your mark on Eddie, and Venom leaves theirs on you.
Word Count: 1.4k+
Warnings: general language warning, biting, leaving marks, petnames (morsel, babe), double penetration, pegging (technically I think??), monsterfucking (by venom's tentacles??? tendrils??? what do we call it??), Venom inside the reader (using her as the host and some mentions of venom presenting partially), choking, Eddie is a bit of a bottom in this one, gagging with fingers (blink and you'll miss it), squirting, multiple orgasms, some slight pain play, Venom being a menace.
A/N: DAY TEN OF KINKTOBER, and its still monsterfucker hours bitches! Anyways, all mistakes are mine so pardon any errors or typos I'm sure I missed a few. The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.
Your hips roll against Eddie’s as you ride him, panting and moaning with little care to how loud you’re being or if the neighbors can hear you through the apartment's thin walls. His hands on you help guide your hips along, and serve to keep him grounded at the same time. Eddie’s touch feels almost electric on your skin, and it only sends pleasure shooting straight to your core. You feel like you’re on fire, every single nerve alight with pleasure you suspect it’s Venom’s doing. You aren’t used to sharing a body with Venom the way Eddie is, and for you the moments like this are intense when you allow Venom to use you as a host. You pull Eddie closer, bowing your head so that you can sink your teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder. Eddie lets out a hoarse groan that rumbles loudly in your ears when he feels your teeth biting down hard enough to mark him. Your tongue soothes over the mark, lips peppering kisses up his neck. You suck at the delicate skin there, nipping at him and leaving another mark behind that makes Eddie hiss and shudder under you.
A ripple of obsidian over your shoulder let’s you know that Venom is making themselves known. You feel the symbiote hovering over you and watching for a moment before you feel the scrape of sharp fanged teeth dragging down your back. There’s not enough pressure to draw blood, but you know from the sweet sting that you feel that they’ll be a trail of welts. As much as you love marking up Eddie, Venom loves to mark you up just as much. And you trust them to do it, letting yourself enjoy the bite of pain that comes with it. It makes you cry out and squeeze so tight around Eddie that the man almost cums inside you right then and there. He might have if it weren’t for an ink black tendril circled tight around the base of Eddie’s cock like a ring. Your hand that grips the back of Eddie’s neck moves around to the front, and then it morphs into a larger ink black hand that you know is Venom’s. Eddie moans at the feeling, and you feel the way that Venom squeezes that hand tighter around the man’s throat. It’s an erotic scene, and your eyes are glued to it for the moment.
You can’t help the way that it makes you flutter and clench around Eddie’s cock at the sight, the moan you let out is muffled against Eddie’s plush lips when you lean down to kiss him. Your teeth nip at his bottom lip, and you grin against his mouth when Eddie growls at you for it. A sharp bite at the back of shoulder makes you chirp in surprise, and you know that Venom has left yet another mark of their own. “Ours.” He rumbles in your ear. Everything’s so heightened that even the subtle vibrations of Venom’s voice can be felt against your too hot skin and draws a whimper out of you. You aren’t sure if Venom means to refer to you or Eddie with the possessive intent, but neither of you question it. You both accept it, because everything feels far too good and far too right to argue. In any case you suspect it’s meant for both of you. Especially Venom’s hand at Eddie’s throat loosens, only to drag down his chest and leave red scratches behind that will likely be there for at least a few days. Then it moves to cup one of your breasts and tease at its nipple.
Biting your lip your gaze lingers on Eddie’s face as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock. You chuckle at what you see, damn near purring when you feel Venom’s tongue teasing your other nipple. “Look at him Ven...he’s absolutely cunt drunk.” You sigh, hips sinking you down to take him completely so you can rock shallowly against him. Eddie’s too far gone to care about the way he whines in protest at the change in how you’re using him to fuck yourself. The hand that’s still yours moves to his face so that you can shove three of your fingers into his mouth and quiet him. Eddie moans around your digits, and you lick your lips and relish the sound of it.
Your hips move faster, rocking yourself against Eddie’s cock and letting yourself get so lost in the intense sensations that hosting Venom allows you to feel that you don’t register the way the symbiote’s tentacles extend from behind you. You feel it though when one of them prods at your puckered hole, it’s cold and slick and teases at pressing into you. Your fingers slip from Eddie’s mouth when you fall forward against his chest, panting and whining at the feeling while your hips never still against the man’s.
“Fuck...please Ven. Wanna be full of you both.” You beg, gasping out and biting down against Eddie’s chest when you feel the initial breach. Another mark left behind to claim your man and he grips your hips tight enough to bruise in return. “Shiiiiit, so good...fuck feels so good!” You cry, and the ink black clawed hand that Venom controls moves to the sofa beside Eddie’s head and a drag downwards to shred the furniture, but neither of you three seem to notice or mind with how good this all feels. You moan again when a long tongue slithers up the side of your neck, and the prickle of sharp teeth tease over your shoulder. It sends you careening over the edge as you fuck yourself on Eddie’s cock and Venom pumps that obsidian tentacle in and out of your back channel in tandem with your movements. You cum hard, juices splattering over Eddie’s hips and lower abdomen. It knocks the breath out of you for a moment, and you hardly have a chance to recover before you feel the symbiote taking control, making your hips move on their own accord. “Ven..I can’t—” Your protests cut off when you feel a second tentacle curling around your throat and giving a squeeze.
“You don’t play fair.” You choke out, moaning a second later when you feel it curl tighter and apply pressure. You can hear Eddie’s chuckle from below you before it chokes off into a moan of his own when a third tentacle of Venom’s snakes under your body and teases its way into the man’s hole.
“Fuck!” Eddie curses, and just like that it’s Venom in control. The symbiote makes you move against Eddie’s cock, all the while fucking you both from behind with those obsidian appendages.
“You will give us another one, morsel.” You know it's not a request, and even if you wanted to resist you know your body can’t. Not when it feels this good, and you’re feeling this full, the pressure around your throat only adds to the intense and overwhelming pleasure that’s wracking your oversensitive body.
“Come on, babe. Cum with us, give us another.” Eddie urges from beneath you, fingers slipping between your bodies to strum at your clit just as you feel Venom’s teeth nibbling at your hip. You cum with a scream, juices soaking the man under you again and it feels so intense that all you see is white for a few seconds as you lay against Eddie’s chest trembling. Your walls clench around him, pulsing and milking his cock for his spend while Venom works that sweet spot inside of Eddie until the man follows after you moments later.
You both lay there panting, unspeaking as you feel everything from Venom receding before the symbiote is bleeding from your form to reclaim Eddie. You sigh in relief when you register the sudden lack of heightened feeling and sensitivity. As thrilling and exciting as it is to have Venom inside you for that short amount of time it’s still tiring and now all you want is to fall asleep right there against Eddie’s chest.
“I swear one of these days you two are going to make me lose my mind.” You say with a huff of laughter that makes Eddie chuckle. “I need a shower, and someone is gonna have to carry me.”
You feel the change happen under you, and it's then that you realize that Eddie hadn’t pulled out of you yet. Your moan is stuttered and gasping, your nails biting into the symbiotes flesh as you grip against Venom and push yourself up to glare at the grinning menace. “Not yet, morsel. We have not had our turn yet.”
Summary: It's just a little back and forth between lovers.
Word Count: 1.9k+
Warnings: It might read as dubcon but it's all consensual, NO SPOILERS, there's no plot really, general language warning, slapping, pussy slapping, name calling, Nick Fowler (he is a damn warning), fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, gagging on fingers, choking, spitting/spit play, pain kink, biting, blood, jealousy, possessive language, rough sex, unprotected sex (make sure it's wrapped before the cheeks are tapped), scratching, leaving marks, Nick's filthy mouth, the reader's filthy mouth, Daddy kink (just the name used), petnames (sweetheart)
A/N: Smh here I go again. Blame @georgiapeach30513. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don't forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.
“All that fucking complaining, and you’re soaking wet.” Nick’s growls against your mouth as you try to wiggle away from his insistent fingers. “Just admit it, you’re like a bitch in heat for me no matter how mad you are.” It’s mocking, and you hate the way the shame heats your face while arousal swirls between your thighs. It’s not fair how easily he can get to you, but you know it’s because he’s trained your body to react to him no matter how fiercely your temper is burning.
That doesn’t mean you won’t fight back.
You wrench yourself back, far enough so that you can lay a hard slap across Nick’s face. His head snaps to the side, and you take the moment to put distance between the two of you while you smooth out your dress. The whole while you keep a wary eye on Nick, you know him well enough that his lack of immediate reaction means he’s planning something. He’s never been the type to let something go, and when he takes a slow step around the bed you inch closer towards the door. “Don’t even think about it, Nick I swear to god I will fuck you up.” He grins at your threat and you give it a half second of thought before you decide to bolt for the door.
You barely get a hand on the doorknob before he’s on you, hauling you back against his chest and lifting you into the air while your stiletto clad feet kick out at nothing. “You’re gonna fuck me up, huh? I'd love to see you try, sweetheart.” He drops you down on the bed, yanking you back towards him by a tight grip on your ankle when you try to scramble away. You don’t get any warning before you feel him yanking your dress up over your hips and ripping away your panties. His large palm strikes down against your bare pussy, and he hums in appreciation at the way your body reacts.
“Ow! Nick what the fuck—AH!” He cuts you off with another hard slap to your cunt, chuckling at the way you jolt from the sting of it. The pain only makes you clench around nothing, pleasure mixing with pain, and causing you to bite back a moan.
“You hit me first sweetheart, I’m just returning the favor.” Another slap and you throw your head back with a curse as your hips squirm against the bed. You’re wet already, and this isn’t helping the slightest but you haven’t told him to stop yet. Nick knows that you know which words to say if you need him to stop or if you need a break, so he grabs you by the neck and drags your upper body up from the bed, and keeps going. The next slap drags a moan out of you. You can’t help it, the pleasure and the pain becomes too overwhelming far too quickly for you to resist giving into it even if you’re still pissed off at Nick.
Slap after slap land against your cunt until your folds are puffy, glistening, and you’re trembling with shaky breaths and moans spilling past your lips. It’s not enough for him though, and when he sinks two thick digits into your tight core you let out a loud cry. Your hips buck, writhing against the bed when he crooks them just right and finds that spongy patch of sensitive nerves inside you. “Fuck!” Your eyes screw shut when he begins pumping his curled fingers inside you, you’re so worked up and the squelch of your cunt is immediate and loud in your ears as Nick sends you careening towards an orgasm that knocks the breath out of you. Your thighs tremble, electric pleasure coursing through you so strong that you soak the sheets under you with your climax. He doesn’t stop at one, Nick is greedy and drags another two out of you to ruin the bedding with your juices. He has your head foggy, and your body pliant when he slowly drags his digits out of you.
Nick’s fingers are shiny, slick, and dripping with your squirt, and when he grabs you by the throat you know what he intends to do next and your mouth drops open on instinct alone. His fingers hover over your mouth letting your juices drip from them and land on your tongue as it presses past your lips. “Shiiit, look at you.” He says with a groan, roughly shoving his fingers into your mouth, pushing them back towards your throat until he has you gagging while his other hand squeezes around your neck. “You’re a fucking mess, sweetheart. All worked up because some woman smiled at me." He tsks at you like he's not loving every second of this. "You just had to cause a fucking scene and now look at you. Legs spread like a whore, and fuckin’ dripping.”
Just like that you snap out of your haze, jerking your head away to dislodge his fingers from your mouth so you can spit in his face. “Fuck you, Nick. That bitch did more than smile at you.” You seethe, remembering the way the woman had the nerve to touch your man in front of you while he allowed her to do so. He knew it would set you off, just like it would have set him off if the roles were to be reversed.
Nick chuckles, releasing you to wipe your spit from his cheek. “Cute. Real cute, now,” His hand flashes out to grip your jaw tight enough to pry it open. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He doesn’t waste time, gathering his saliva and spitting right into your open mouth before forcing it closed. “Swallow.” It’s order, and it’s second nature for you to follow it while your hands are roughly undoing his belt so that you can get his pants open. “Always so fucking jealous, sweetheart.” He teases you, groaning when he feels your hand circling around his thick, straining length. He’s hard enough that it hurts, the need to be inside you making him buck into your hand as you grip him almost painfully tight. “Fuck.” He curses, surging forward to crash his lips against yours for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. A battle for dominance that you know he’ll win in the end, but you swear you aren’t making it easy for him this time.
Your teeth nip at his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and make him jerk away from you with a hiss of pain. He twitches in your hand, and you smirk. You know how to get to him just as easily as he knows you. “I wouldn’t be jealous if you didn’t walk around acting like this dick isn't mine.”
“It’s your dick?” Nick mutters, voice dropping to a gravelly husk that has you moaning. “It’s yours?” He grins, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck as he moves your hand away from his cock so he can line himself up with your entrance.
You nod, letting out a breathy, “mine.”
He grins wickedly, “Then fucking take it.” Nick fills you with a harsh stroke, his cock stretching you so good that it knocks the breath out of your lungs. Nick doesn’t let you adjust, pressing you back into the mattress and pounding into you like he’s trying to fuck you through the bed. His teeth bite down where your shoulder meets your neck, the pressure hard enough to bruise and you know he’s paying you back for biting him earlier. His lips trail bites and kisses to another spot where he chooses to mark you. A lewd moan drags its way out of you at the thought of wearing his marks proudly when he's done with you, your cunt squeezing and fluttering around him with each new love bite he leaves littering your skin.
“Don’t stop…just like that, fuuuuuuck daddy just like that!” You cry not caring about who else is in the house to hear the way that Nick is making you scream on his cock. Your hands slide under his dress shirt, nails digging into the skin of his back hard enough to leave angry red welts behind, and in some places draw blood. Nick only fucks into you harder, the pain from your nails raking down his back only helping to push him closer to his own release.
“Fucking bitch…” He hisses, lips roughly claiming yours and you can’t help but laugh into the messy kiss before biting down on his bottom lip and holding on when he starts to pull away with a growl.
“Damn right,” You pant, moving your hands to drag through his hair, nails scratching over the side of his neck with enough pressure to mark him. “Yours.” Nick slides a hand to your throat, rising to his knees and keeping you pinned down to the bed while he takes advantage of the new angle he’s fucking you at.
His hand around your neck squeezes just enough to cut off your air and you clench around him, the coil twisting and twisting with each deliberate stroke that he gives you against that sweet spot. Your screams of pleasure are choked and ruined as he fucks you like he’s trying to dig you out. When his free hand moves between your thighs and his thumb brushes over your clit you don’t recognize the sound that tears out of you, but you gush around him as the stimulation sends you over the edge. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Make a fuckin’ mess all over this dick, ‘s all yours sweetheart.” He says, words strained from behind his teeth as he watches the way you fall apart around him. “Give me another one, know you got in you. Greedy slut, c’mon give me what I want.”
It’s impossible to resist, Nick’s words are like pulling a trigger and you can’t stop yourself from cumming again for him with a shrill, babbling cry as you soak him and the, no doubt ruined, sheets. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, breaking skin and sending rivulets of his blood trickling down to drip against your heated, sweat slicked skin. The bite of pain, and the sight of his blood dripping onto you, coupled with the pulsing of your walls around him send Nick over the edge and he cums with a loud shout. His hot spend filling you and soothing your ravaged cunt that milks him for every drop that he has to give.
Nick collapses on top of you with a grunt, resting there for a moment before rolling off to the side to catch his breath. You both need showers, you’re aware of that, but for the moment your legs are useless.
Comfortable quiet settles between the two of you, the only sounds filling the room are those of you and Nick’s soft panting breaths. It's like that for a couple minutes before he speaks.
“Never gonna be another woman for me, sweetheart.” He tells you, and you smirk. Slowly you sit up, careful of his cum dripping out of you.
“I know." You reply, "But the next woman that touches you like that is going to end up at the bottom of the fucking river.” You say, peering over your shoulder when you hear him stirring.
There’s a wicked smirk on his lips that has heat blooming in your chest, and you can only roll your eyes with a wicked smirk of your own curling onto your lips.
Summary: When tragedy strikes and you're desperate enough to make a deal with a devil it turns everything on its head.
Word Count: 13k+
Warnings: DARK FIC, HORROR THEMES, non/dubcon, mentions murder, drug use, drugging, innocent reader, naïve reader, loss of virginity, blackmail, improper use of religious items, bondage, unprotected sex (p in v, wrap it before you tap it), stalking, manipulation, crying, sir kink, mean!ransom, antichrist!ransom, degradation (not a lot of it), petnames (ransom calls the reader lamb)
A/N: This is one of my entries for @boxofbonesfic 's exciting challenge (Bones Spooktacular Smutfest!) I didn't mean for it to be this long, or take this long to post but here it is! Anyways, all mistakes are mine so pardon any errors or typos I'm sure I missed a few. The divider is by @firefly-graphics. The moodboard is by me.
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don't forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.
Your hand trembles as you pull the sleek business card from your pocket to look at it again. You’re well past second thoughts, it's more like ninth and tenth thoughts, but you’re determined to see this through. Your uncle’s fate depends on it, and you feel helpless when you think of the ax that swings over the man’s head while he rots away in the county jail awaiting trial for a crime you’re sure he didn’t commit. The cops said he bashed a man’s skull in, but the man that had raised you wasn’t capable of doing something so violent and horrific. Just thinking about it makes your stomach roil, and nervously you twist the purity ring around your finger thrice.
You can do this, you think to yourself. Just remember why you’re doing this.
The night is dark and dreary, the streets ominously lit as you pause and look down the sidewalk and across the street at the building you’re heading towards. Carefully you slip a hand into your purse to let your fingers brush over the small canister of pepper spray that you bought earlier in the day. It does little to make you feel secure or confident. You shouldn’t be here, you know that and yet you’re just desperate enough to go and beg at the feet of the most powerful man in the city. You aren’t even sure he’ll help, he sees people all day everyday just about. Every one of them asking favors and offering god knows what in exchange. There’s rumors that he takes people as slaves or pets, others that he demands first borns, and there’s some far fetched and ridiculous tales about him demanding souls.
You aren’t sure what you believe, all you know is that you are desperate. Desperate enough to turn to the devil! Your mind screams, and a shudder wracks your frame as you take another damning step towards the building. It’s foreboding, something about it just not settling right when you try to look at it. You shake it off, it must be the nerves, is what you mutter to yourself as your fingers reach to fiddle with the purity ring on your finger again. It’s a way to self soothe, and ground yourself as you make to step into the street.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
The aggressive sound of a car's horn as it speeds by carelessly has you jumping back on the sidewalk just before it careens into you. It leaves your heart pounding in your chest, and tears stinging in your eyes at realizing just how close a call it was. That’s a sign from the lord, turn around and go back. It’s not worth it! Your intuition screams at you, and for a second you consider listening to it before you remember why you’ve come all the way across town, and for who.
You check the street this time, there’s no cars coming and it’s eerily quiet when you step off the curb and quickly make your way across. The building is dark but otherwise nondescript save for the gilded numbers over the door knocker. It’s heavy when you go to lift it, and you bring it down three times before you take a step back and wait.
A window slides open and you can hear the faint sound of music filtering out. A pair of cold green eyes stare out at you with a harsh glare and you swallow nervously while trying to remember the passphrase your friend had given you for this moment.
“Tenebris oritur.” The words feel wrong to say, they fill you with a sense of foreboding but you push it off and try to ignore it. It’s just nerves, you’re sure of it. You wait a beat hoping that you’ve said the right thing, and when the heavy door is finally pulled open and you’re ushered inside you know you have. The grim looking man by the door says nothing still, peering down his nose at you while you try not to stare at the scare that decorates his jaw. Slowly you step away from him, walking further into the building and stopping to check your coat with the girl by the front door. Then you’re led through a metal detector, and instructed to place a sticker over the lens of your phone's camera. Apparently photos are strictly forbidden in this venue. Once you’ve done that you’re allowed to follow the muffled sounds of soft music deeper into the building until you come upon another heavy door.
You push through it and almost immediately you feel as if you’ve stepped into a different world. It’s almost jarring how clean, and upscale this dimly lit lounge bar is compared to the dreary and almost too quiet street outside. The pungent smell of cigar smoke fills your nose and you do your best to not make a face or cough at the way it seems to cut your breath short. Men and women lounge and mill about, drinking, smoking, and in some dark corners doing a bit more. You keep your eyes away from those corners, face hot and body moving swiftly towards the bar. You just need to find the man you've come to see and try to convince him to help your uncle.
"Well, well, well...you must be new." Says the man behind the bar, drawing your attention as you give a soft gasp. He's handsome, tall with a chiseled stubble covered jaw, and a fluffy head of hair. He looks you over, taking in the sweet little dress you're wearing and he smirks. It's obvious that this place isn't your usual hang out spot. Hell it's obvious that you've never been inside a place like this, otherwise you would have known better than to wear something so sweet and tempting into a den of iniquity. "I'm Frank, what can I get you beautiful?"
His flirting doesn't go unmissed but you choose to ignore it because you have more important reasons for being here. "Well, I was hoping you could point me in the direction of Ransom Drysdale." A couple of men at the bar beside you fall silent and suddenly depart to go settle elsewhere. You do your best to not think about why that might be. "I really, really need to talk to him about something very important." You continue, not noticing the stocky man that settles to your left until he's close enough to touch you. The feeling of his hand against your lower back makes you jump and squeak in surprise, and it's clear that he's startled you. It's something that seems to amuse this stranger and Frank just heaves a sigh from behind the bar.
"Brock," he greets, blue gaze watching as you try to step away from the man. "The boss’ usual?" He questions, Brock just nods while eyeing you up and down.
"Now what's a sweet little thing like you doing in a place like this asking to see my boss, huh?" He doesn't let you get far before he's reaching out with a quickness to grip you by the arm and drag you back in. You look around, hoping that someone might step in and help you but everyone seems to be pointedly looking in any direction but yours.
Panic and fear have you seconds away from reaching into your purse to grab your can of pepper spray but another voice cuts in and Brock promptly releases you as if you had burned him. "That's enough, Brock. Can't you see the girl is scared?" You're shaking as you take a quick step back, stumbling slightly in your heeled boots and falling into a strong broad chest. "Careful, everything's alright now." The man coos, and you whip around to face him. You feel like you've been thrown into a shark tank, and it's quickly overwhelming you. "I heard you were asking for me, something about needing to talk to me about something very important." He offers, and you relax just a fraction. Just enough for you to take him in and notice that pictures truly do not do him justice.
Ransom Drysdale is much more intimidating in person, and he carries about himself an aura of arrogance and control that makes you want to shudder when he turns his icy gaze on you fully. You open your mouth to speak, determined to say what you have to now before courage fails you, but before you can utter a word he cuts you off.
"Not here, too many prying eyes and ears. Let's go somewhere more private." Ransom doesn't give you a chance to protest before he's plucking his freshly made drink from Frank's hand just as the man sets it on the bar, and with his other hand pressing against the small of your back he's guiding you deeper into the lounge club, past roped off booths and into a quiet little room that has a wet bar, a couple tables, a few chairs and a sofa. You stand there awkwardly, nervously glancing behind yourself to see that Brock looms in front of the only door in or out of this room that you can see. The sound of Ransom clearing his throat draws your attention back to him sitting comfortably on the sofa. He nods to the empty space besides him, but you don't move until you feel Brock giving your shoulder a shove to spur you into motion.
If you felt like you were in a shark tank before, that's nothing compared to this lion's den that you've been led into. Slowly and reluctantly you lower yourself onto the far end of the sofa, as far away from Ransom as you can manage. It's all in vain when seconds later he moves close enough for your knees to touch. Attempting to shift away from him does little good, and so you resolve yourself to try and ignore the distraction that the little bit of contact offers.
"Mr. Drysd—"
"Call me Ransom." He tells you, smirking as he lifts his glass to his lips to take a sip.
You press on, despite his correction. "I was told by a friend of mine that you might be able to help me, you recently helped her with some legal troubles after...after she put her abusive ex in the hospital." You hope he remembers Lea, she's the whole reason why you're here in the first place ready to grovel if it means getting help for your uncle.
Ransom takes a moment to think it over, he already knows exactly who you're referring to. Lea had been one of his charity cases where he didn't take a payment for lending a helping hand. It's all in the name of branding and public opinion, unfortunately you won't be so lucky because Ransom can already spy a couple things that he wants as payment for whatever little favor you're about to ask of him.
"I remember, and I'm willing to see what I might be able to do to help you. Just tell me what it is you need." The way he says that word stirs something in you, it feels loaded like he's fishing for something more and the way his blue eyes bore into you doesn't help in the slightest.
You nod, breathing out a sigh of relief. "My uncle was arrested recently, accused of murder and the court appointed lawyer isn't even trying to help. I was hoping that you could help us with legal representation the way you did with my friend."
Ransom nods along, realizing now where he's seen you before. "Your situation isn't as clear cut as your friend’s was," he starts and you fear for a moment that he's about to send you on your way. "It would cost a significant amount to get the right team in place to sort that fucking mess out." You flinch at his harsh words, but you remain hopeful. He hasn't said no yet.
"Please, sir," sir? Oh he likes that very much coming from your pretty mouth. "My aunt and I don't have much but we could go into our savings, and if that's not enough I could work off the rest. I'd do anything if it means helping my uncle. You own this place don't you, I could clean and learn to make drinks, or—" you lose your voice when Ransom suddenly leans in and you feel a warm hand settling on your leg just above the knee. Even through the dark tights that you wear under
"I might be willing to let you work off the cost, but you'd have to offer me a bit more than that, lamb." His voice is low, lips curled into a smirk and for a moment you're stunned into silence and stillness before you catch up to the moment and immediately you're shaking your head. If he's implying that then surely he's got the wrong idea about you. "What? You came to me, you said you'd do anything. That's the price, either agree to it or don't." By the door you hear Brock's chuckle, and it sets your nerves on edge. Meeting Ransom's gaze you try to search for some sign that he isn't serious, but you find none.
Swallowing thickly you drop your gaze from his, even through your tights you can feel his burning touch, and it takes everything in you to fight the urge to squirm. Instead your fingers began to twist the ring around your finger. You run your thumb over the words etched into the metal before you twist it around thrice and steel yourself. The action catches Ransom's attention, and for a moment his brow arches curiously. A purity ring? He hasn’t seen someone wearing one of those in a very, very long time. He huffs out a short laugh, licking his lips as he regards you more closely. He can practically taste the innocence on you, and he can see the way your light hasn’t been dimmed by the world yet. It awakens a desire in him that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. He wants to devour that light, and all that sweet innocence fills him with a need to corrupt.
“I'm waiting." His tone is impatient when he speaks this time, and you can feel the energy shift from teasing and seduction to tense and stifling. The grip on your knee tightens and it's enough to jolt you into moving.
Quickly, you stand to your feet taking a step away from the sofa. Anger, hurt, disappointment and embarrassment all reflect in your eyes and you know Ransom can see it by the amused smirk that's on his too pretty face. “Your choice.” He says with a laugh and a shrug while pulling a small vial of white powder from his pocket. You turn away, not wanting to be a witness to him snorting whatever drug it is he’s diverted his attention to. He cuts it into a line and you hear him behind you inhaling it, and you huff, stomping towards the door.
"Please let me by." You say, voice tight as you hold yourself together. Brock doesn't step aside, instead he grabs you by the arm and backs you away from the door with a cruel grin. This time Ransom doesn't stop him from manhandling you. Instead he watches curiously as if he's waiting for something to happen.
You panic, fumbling with one hand to pull your keychain can of pepper spray out and once you do and the safety cap is flipped open you aim and blast Brock in the face. He's coughing, sputtering, and cursing in seconds, letting you go to instead scrub at his eyes while you rush to the door and run out. Brock makes a fumbling attempt to follow but Ransom has other plans. "Let her go, go clean yourself up." He orders, wiping his nose clean with a sigh. He waits until Brock leaves the room cursing and spitting insults at you even though you're gone. The moment Ransom is alone he pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a call to the twins. Colin Shea and Jake Jensen. He tasks them with finding you, and finding out everything there is to know about you beyond what the news has already reported.
Once that's done he knows he only needs to wait. More than likely the two will have everything on you before the end of the next day. And in the meantime he thinks about what will be the best way to get you right where he wants you.
No one stops you as you rush out of the building. Some laugh at the sight of you so frightened, others simply stare as if watching a show, and the rest ignore your existence all together. The realization that no one cares, that if something were to happen to you here that you’d just be entertainment to them, it’s like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head. You can feel the tears brimming and stinging behind your eyes. Your vision starts to blur with the unshed tears, and your chest feels tight. By the time you make it outside you’re sucking in the fresh air, taking it in in lungfuls and trying to ignore the cold and the taste of smog that faintly registers with each breath.
When you feel like you can walk a straight line, you do, heading for the nearest open business and calling yourself an Uber. You wait there, still shaken up by all that’s transpired and the lack of hope has you sullen and withdrawn. You barely speak to your driver once you’ve gotten in after checking to make sure the car and the man behind the wheel match what’s in the app. He talks enough for the both of you though, and you leave him a nice tip in the app to show your appreciation for him getting you home safely.
It’s with reluctance that you trudge up the steps that lead to up to the porch, you don’t want to go inside. You can see the light on in the living room and you know your aunt is waiting for you, likely worried sick because you’re home over an hour later than usual. She’ll have questions that you can’t and don’t want to answer because they’ll only make her worry more. In her condition it’s stress that she doesn’t need, and your father’s upcoming and looming trial is taking a toll already. Breathing in deep you blow out a cleansing breath, swallowing the lump in your throat a second later, and then you slide your key into the lock and give it a twist. Turning the knob to enter, you see your Aunt sitting close by your Uncle’s favorite chair. Your heart breaks just a little more, and you offer a quiet hello and an apology for being out so late and not calling.
“Where were you?” She questions, and you just shake your head.
“It’s not important, Aunt Lily. Just go to bed, it’s late.” You reply, going to take off your coat only to realize that you aren’t wearing it. In your haste and panic to leave that dreadful place you forgot to stop and pick it up from the coat check. The thought of going back to get it fills you with so much dread that you’ve already resolved to simply leave it there and see about buying yourself a new coat tomorrow.
Your aunt seems to notice the lack of your coat though, and when she comes closer to inspect you she shakes her head. “I know it’s late, I’ve been waiting for you. Worrying over whether or not something’s happened to you and—” She cuts herself off with a huff, “and where is your coat? It’s freezing out.”
It’s worry and fear, and you know she means well but your nerves are still on edge from your encounter in the lounge club that you just want her to stop and let you breathe.
“Aunt Lily please! I just needed some time to myself, out of this house with all the memories and worry. I just needed to deal by myself okay, and I’m an adult I’m allowed to stay out late if I need to. I’m sorry I didn’t call but you didn’t have to stay up, you need your rest just as much as I do.” You feel bad for not telling the truth and dismissing her worries but being honest would only make things worse…even if it twists your stomach into knots to be anything less than truthful.
Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, you toss and you turn in bed. It’s too hot in your room and it has you kicking your covers off in your fitful slumber. Images of Ransom’s cruel smirk, and the phantom feeling of his hand on your body plague you every time you manage to slip away to a dreaming state. It startles you awake each time and you growl in annoyance. You’ll never see him again, you’re sure of it only because you naively believe that he was only toying with you and wasting your time.
It doesn’t help you rest though, by the time the sun is coming up you’ve only managed a few hours of sleep. Caffeine keeps you mobile throughout the day, and you trudge through the motions until it’s time for you to go visit your uncle at the jail. Like so many things since his arrest, it fills you with apprehension. There’s always a worry that you’ll see him beat up or that his spirit will be broken.
You’re always relieved to see that’s not the case, but today your worries are confirmed. When he enters the small visitation room you see the limp and the black eye. What’s worse is you see how his usually bright gaze is darkened as if there’s a shadow that’s settled over him. The lump in your throat burns when you try to swallow it down, and you can feel the tears brimming but you try your hardest not to let them fall.
“What happened?” You question, and he says nothing. “Uncle Gideon, what happened? Who did this to you?”
“It won’t do any good telling you what happened, it was just a misunderstanding and it’s all fine now.” He wants to reach across the table and take your trembling hand in yours but he knows the guard won’t allow it. “I’d rather you talk to me what your aunt telling me about you staying out late.”
You sigh, heavy and feeling weighed down. “I was trying to find better lawyers for you.” You admit, knowing better than to lie to him. He’s always known when you were being dishonest, whatever tell it is that you have he won’t disclose. So you give him enough of the truth to satisfy him. Your uncle lets out an almost amused laugh, as if you’ve told a joke that you aren’t aware of.
“What?” You question, brows furrowed in confusion as you regard the man sitting across from you with a mixture of worry and curiosity.
“Nothing, sweet pea, it’s nothing.” He runs his manacled hands over his face and just shakes his head. “You should go, today’s your day at the animal shelter. Don’t be late worrying about an old man.” You don’t want to leave so soon, but your uncle calls the guard over to escort you from the room before you can protest his dismissal. The huff that leaves you is watery, and that lump in your throat returns. You hate this, you still don’t believe that he did what the police and prosecutors are claiming he did. There’s no way, he’s been the same sweet, caring, and protective man you’ve known all your life. To think that he was capable of even considering bashing a man’s skull was madness to you. You’re so sure that your uncle isn’t capable of violence that you had completely missed the bruises on his knuckles that tell otherwise.
“Don’t forget to sign out, Miss.” The guard tells you before he calls for two men who apparently have a visitation with your uncle too. One of them stops when he gets to you, says your name and offers a smile.
“You must be the niece, I’m Andrew Barber. That’s my partner, Scott Huffman. We’ll be taking over your uncle’s case, and it’d be helpful if you and your aunt could set up a time where we can get you two into the office to take some statements.” He holds out a business card while you stand there mouth moving wordlessly as you take the card between unsteady fingers.
“I don’t understand, we didn’t hire new lawyers…we couldn’t—”
“It’s been handled, and just in time too. I hear the prosecution is looking for the death penalty.” Andy reaches up to adjust his tie, not paying attention to the way your breathing suddenly gets shallower, and you sway slightly. Panic is setting in, the lump in your throat feels like it’s choking you, and the tears you’ve been fighting off all day are threatening to break free at any second.
You rush past Mr. Barber, with a rushed “We’ll call you.” You can’t breathe and it feels like all the walls are starting to close in on you the longer you remain. The tears are kept at bay until you make it to your car, and once you’re in the driver's seat you can’t stop the broken sobs that finally break free. They’re the type that hurt, that feel like they’re tearing and clawing at your throat in an effort to escape out of you. You haven’t let yourself cry once since the arrest, you’ve been so convinced that everyone else will see what you see, or that a new suspect will be discovered and your uncle released.
To hear that the situation is so much more serious than that is finally the straw that breaks. You sit in your car, crying and gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. It’s minutes or maybe longer before you feel sobered enough to drive, and you let a hand move weakly to push your keys into the ignition. Blurry eyes drift to the windshield and startled at what you see you drop your keys to the floorboard and gasp. Wiping the tears away, you blink.
Ransom Drysdale stands there, staring at you in a way that sends chills and terror shooting up your spine.
You blink and he’s gone, and that shocks you even more. There were no other cars that he could have left in, there’s no one else in the parking lot, and there’s no way he could move that fast. Quickly you fish your keys up from the floorboard and shove them into the ignition and turn it on. You back out of your parking spot a bit faster than you normally would, but your fight or flight response is telling you to run so you listen.
By the time you reach the animal shelter you’ve convinced yourself that you just imagined it. You write it all off as you being stressed out, distraught, over emotional, and still on edge after your encounter with Ransom and his goon. It’s the only thing that makes sense, and once you’ve rationalized the experience you’re calmer.
Nothing else happens, and the rest of your day is uneventful. Something you’re grateful for. But the night is a much different story. Your dreams are fitful, sinful things that you can’t seem to wake up from no matter how hard you try. Ransom is in them, touching you, kissing you, rutting into you, claiming you, and pushing you to the brink until you wake up gasping and soaked with slick between your thighs. No matter how many times you try to go back to sleep it’s always the same and you spend another night in fitful sleep.
“Boss, we got the research on the girl all done.” Jake says into his headset. His fingers tap at the keys of his laptop as he navigates his way through your digital life. It only took him all of thirty minutes to get into your emails, your socials, phone and laptop. “Got info on the aunt and uncle too just in case you asked for that too.” Jake adds.
Ransom opens the zipped file that’s labeled with your name with a smirk. He’s not surprised that Jake went above and beyond, there’s a reason he keeps him and his brother on the payroll. “Your girl lives a pretty simple life, not much activity on her socials. Just a bunch of memes and pics with family...oh look at that, she’s got a cute friend…” Jake begins to give Ransom the rundown as he goes through everything starting with your birth records. “Goes to church every Sunday, works, well worked, at a daycare Mondays through Wednesdays. Apparently they put her unpaid leave after her uncle’s arrest, finances have been pretty tight since then. Her aunt works as a nurse at the local hospital so they’re making enough to keep the lights on. Colin’s tailing her right now, I think he said something about her volunteering at an animal shelter Thursdays and Fridays. You want me to patch him in?” Jake asks, still tapping away at his keyboard.
“Go ahead, Jensen.” Ransom says, hearing a click a moment later as Colin is brought onto the call.
“Hey boss, got your sweetheart in my sights.” Colin greets with a chuckle, Ransom rolls his eyes but says nothing. “Looks like she’s heading to the jail to see her dear old murderous uncle.”
“Speaking of,” Jake cuts in. “I found some surveillance footage from that night, turns out the old bastard really did bash that brats head in. You want me to send it to the prosecution or hold onto it for now?”
Ransom let’s out a pleased hum, hearing that and knowing that he has proof that no one else has just further stacks the deck in his favor has him in a very good mood. “Send it to me, and only me.” He instructs, and seconds later another file is sent to his computer containing the damning video. “Jake keep digging into their lives, Colin, you keep tailing her. Let me know when she gets to the jail.”
“What are you gonna do, boss?” Jake questions, the grin evident in his voice. Ransom doesn’t answer him, simply ending the call and making another.
He waits for the line to ring, and the familiar voice that greets him once the call is answered has the man grinning.
“Barber, I need you and Huffman down at the jail, you two are picking up a new client. I’ll send the details to your phone along with instructions.” Andrew Barber doesn’t question it, simply announces that he and Scott will be on their way shortly and hangs up.
Half an hour later Ransom receives a text from Colin, alerting him that you were leaving the jail and that you seemed upset. It’s perfect, and when Ransom appears in the parking lot moments later he sees you in your car sobbing he knows that Barber let the dreadful news slip regarding your uncle’s case. He lingers there for a moment, watching as the tears slide down your face and the muffled sounds of your sobs from inside the car has him stirring beneath his expensive trousers. When you look up and see him he doesn’t move, and even though he knows the distance is too far for you to make it out, he smirks. Something about the way you gasp in shock and begin to panic makes him want to steal you away right then and there. He resists, he wants you backed into a corner and desperate enough to agree to giving yourself to him. When you blink he takes his leave, vanishing just as quickly as he appeared.
Back in his home, Ransom wanders over to where your coat is draped over the back of his sofa. He lifts it to his nose and inhales deeply, your scent is still strong enough for him to pick up on the different notes and layers to it. Lilies, citrus, nutmeg…and there’s something else under all that. Something familiar that he can’t quite place, but he knows it’s uniquely you and it’s addictive.
That was a week ago, and things have been uneventful since that moment in the parking lot. Save for the unwanted dreams that leave you aching with a need you can’t quite explain or even know what to do with. And you still lament the loss of your coat, especially now that you’ve talked yourself out of buying a new one since money’s been tighter with your uncle’s arrest and you being placed on unpaid leave from the daycare center. You’ve been making due with wearing your thickest jacket, and it does hardly anything to keep the biting cold from seeping into your bones and making your teeth chatter loudly. Your arms are wrapped tight around your shivering form as you make your way down the street, focusing solely on getting to the bus stop that will drop you off at the animal shelter. You don’t register the car that begins to slowly creep along beside you at first, when you do though you cast a wary glance to the side and pick up the speed of your steps.
The dark town car speeds up as well, and you think about running into the next open shop you get to and waiting until the car passes before you hear the sound of a window rolling down, and a vaguely familiar voice calling out to you from the backseat.
“Need a ride, lamb?” You freeze midstep, sucking in a breath of cold air that makes your lungs ache. It can’t be him, you gave him no way to contact you much less find you, but when you turn your head to look there he sits. Ransom grins from the back seat, looking warm and comfortable as he observes your shivering form. “Come on, it’s nice and warm inside.” He tries to coax you closer when he sees you working up the will to keep walking. “Besides, I have something that belongs to you.” He adds, holding up your coat with a smug grin. You take a step towards the side of the car and hold out your hand, expecting him to hand you the much needing piece of outerwear. Ransom snatches it back and tsks at you disapprovingly, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “Get in the car, I promise it’s just me. I left Brock at home.”
The mention of the other man brings on unwanted thoughts of that night, and if it weren’t for your need to get your coat back you would have resisted and just kept walking. The bitter chill that cuts through you with a timely gust of wind has you thinking better of that decision and reluctantly you reach for the handle of the car door. The warm air that billows out when you open it nearly makes you sigh, but you hold it in and carefully slide into the back passenger seat. Closing the door behind you, you keep as close to the door as possible, something that Ransom notices and finds himself amused by. You’re so timid, so skittish and he loves knowing that there’s something in you that makes you wary and afraid of him. You suspect as much too, there’s a twisted sort of glee in his eyes when you glance over at him setting you coat down in the space between you. You fiddle with your ring nervously, waiting for him to say something and end the tense silence. You’re so on edge that you can’t even let yourself settle into the seat to enjoy the warm air that’s heating the car's interior. Not even the heated seats are enough to make you relax, and the longer Ransom watches you with that unnervingly blue gaze the more you feel like you want to crawl out of your skin.
There’s something about it, a vibe he gives off that unsettles you, and you know it’s not just the memory of his proposition that makes you feel that way. “So,” he says suddenly and you jump slightly before taking a calming breath. “Where to, lamb?”
“The animal shelter.” You answer quickly, rattling off the address for his driver. It’ll be a good twenty minute drive and you aren’t sure how you’re going to be able to deal with it.
Another long beat of silence passes, and when Ransom notices you twisting the purity ring around your finger yet again he finally chooses to address it. “I didn’t think people still wore those these days.” He says, carelessly invading your space to reach across your body and pluck up your hand to inspect the ring more closely. You suck in a sharp breath, tensing up at his sudden closeness. His hands are smooth and tell you that he hasn’t had to work a day in his life, and just like before his touch is warm on your skin. Like a deer in headlights you’re frozen, your mind telling you to pull your hand out of his and push him away, but you can’t move. He’s close enough that you get the full effect of his cologne, and its mouthwatering. Nothing and no one should smell that good, but he does and it's causing a conflict inside you. He still sets your nerves on edge, but when he’s this close your mind spins dangerously and those sinful dreams are at the forefront of your mind. “True love waits.” He says, reading the inscription on your ring before he snorts derisively at the notion. “Is this why you didn’t take me up on my offer?” He questions, sliding his piercing gaze up to meet yours. “Is someone still a virgin?” He taunts, laughing almost cruelly when you snatch your hand out of his and look away from him.
He backs away, sliding back to his side of the vehicle and you feel no less boxed in and overwhelmed. You’re relieved when the shelter finally comes into view, and you quickly tell the driver that he can drop you off at the property’s gate. Eagerness to get away from Ransom once again has you forgetting about your coat, but he stops you before you can get out of the vehicle. “Lamb, I think you’re forgetting something.” He coos, holding your coat out to you. You go to grab it, and instead of letting it go he pulls it hard enough to make you topple on top of him. Your squeak of surprise and struggle to get off of him is quickly stopped by a strong arm locking around your middle. “Oh lamb, you really thought it’d be that easy didn’t you?” Ransom sighs, releasing your coat so he can bring his hand up to brush a few errant curls away from your face. “Thought you’d get to deny me, and that I’d just drop it and leave you be, didn’t you?”
You don’t answer, you have a feeling that he doesn’t need you to. “You came to me, wanting to make a deal with the devil. You opened the door, and now payment is owed.” He tells you, and you shake your head.
“I never agreed to—” He silences you with a hand around your throat.
“Who do you think hired the fancy new lawyers? The lawyers that are actually doing their job and keeping your dear old uncle from a death sentence.” His hand wanders from your throat and down to cup one of your breasts through your clothes. Your breath quickens, and you clench your eyes shut. You can feel your body reacting to him despite how you don’t want any of this happening. Those damn dreams that have been plaguing you every time you close your eyes for more than a few seconds play on repeat in your mind. “Look at me.” It’s a command that you follow only after you feel him gripping you around the waist tight enough that it becomes harder to breathe.
You meet his gaze, and the longer you look the more off balance you feel, and everything around you is a dull roar except for him. Ransom is in crystal clear focus, and it’s like you can slowly feel yourself slipping away. Your thoughts dull, the protests and warning bells quieting down until the only thing you can think of is giving in to whatever demands he has for you. He gives your breast a squeeze, drawing a whimper out of you and you squirm on top of him. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, words feeling like they’re coming from you slower and slurred. You don’t know what he’s doing, or how he’s doing it but you know in the very back of your mind that this isn’t really you.
“Because I want to. Because I can.” He answers, hand sliding lower and on the verge of slipping under your clothes. You should stop him, you know you should but you can’t when it feels like you’re just a puppet on his string.
It’s the sound of a horn from a car behind you that startles you both out of the moment, and you come to your senses startled and alarmed. You’re suddenly aware of the position you're in, and the fact that there’s another person in the car with you two. Your struggle comes back tenfold and you try to fight your way out of his hold. “Let me go, I swear I’ll scream.” You tell him knowing that even though the person trying to get past the gate can’t see past the vehicle’s dark tint that there’s still a chance they’ll be able to hear you. A nearly inhuman growl rumbles in Ransom’s chest before he relents and lets you go. Scrambling off of him you’re careful not to look him in the eyes again, afraid of what might happen if you do. You grab up your purse and coat, the whole while you can feel the heated gaze of Ransom burning against you.
Foolishly you spare him a final glance before you slam the car door behind you, and you swear for a moment his blue eyes were a blazing red. You shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
You rush across the gravel parking lot and hastily make your way inside, chest heaving and nerves utterly rattled as you try and settle your erratic pulse. There’s something off about Ransom, and it’s more than just him being a rich, entitled creep. There’s something that’s not natural there, because the way he’s been invading your dreams and doing the most filthy things to you isn’t normal, nor is the way he had you lost and so pliant for him with nothing but that intense stare of his. And you’re sure you didn’t imagine the glowing red of his eyes when you managed to get away from him. He might truly be the devil, you’re convinced of it and you spend the rest of the day on edge because of that thought.
It’s not rational, you know that, but the rational explanation for what you’ve experienced is that you’re losing your mind. Despite everything that’s going on in your life you don’t think that’s it, but there’s no one you can talk to about this so you do your best to avoid thinking about it while you go through the motions.
Ignoring your worries becomes impossible though.
It happens while you’re filling the water buckets in the kennels, a chill crawls up your spine despite how warm they keep the interior of the building during winter. It feels like icy fingers skittering over your flesh. You spin around with a gasp of shock.
There’s no one there. You’re alone in the room.
You breathe out shakily, eyes widening when your breath comes out in a foggy puff of air. It shouldn’t be this cold, why is it cold inside? “Guys? Hey, did something happen to the heat?” You call out when you see the figure of someone passing by the door. No answer comes and when you take a step towards it the door suddenly slams shut on its own. You let out a small shriek and jump back, holding up the water hose with your finger on the nozzle trigger as if it’ll help anything.
A dog charges the door of its kennel, startling you enough that you drop the water hose with a scream. It sets off a chain reaction, the entire space is filled with the sounds of dogs barking and growling as they charge and slam themselves against the doors of their kennels. You try to calm the ones closest to you, but something has them worked up and fearful as they try to escape. You look around wildly, calling out for help but no one hears you over the din. Something catches your eye, and when you look you see something in the too dark, too shadowy corner across the room, it looks like the shape of a man’s silhouette. That isn’t what sets you running towards the door though, it’s the glowing red eyes that watch as your name is both a whisper and scream in your ears. A high pitched whine follows, and crimson drips from your nose as you clutch your ears and scream for it to stop.
Your throat feels raw from the screaming, but you can’t stop it or the fear that’s clawing at your mind telling you that you need to get away. Your hands scramble for the door handle, desperately pulling only to find that you can’t open it. It isn’t possible for this door to lock, there’s no key for it, no latch, and it never sticks. “Someone help! Help me!” You cry, yelling and beating your hand against the door. Tears stream down your cheeks and your pleading and pulling at the door becomes more frantic when you notice the shadows starting to stretch and creep towards you. The shape of the man in the corner looms closer as well, and the fear that grips you makes you choke on every attempt to take in air.
Suddenly you’re sent sprawling across the floor, the door being forced open by the shelter manager and another volunteer. They take in your crying, trembling form curled up on the ground and all the barking, growling, and rattling kennel doors and even they feel the chill in the air.
Then it all stops, the noise dies out in an instant. The dogs are quieting down and settling in their kennels, the air is suddenly warm and comfortable again, the shadows aren’t as exaggerated. If you didn’t know better you’d say that you were imagining it all, but you know it was real.
“The door…th-the door was locked.” You stammer out, flinching when the shelter manager reaches out to help you up off of the floor. You sniffle, taking the outstretched hand and let him pull you to your feet and check you over. “The door was locked.” You repeat weakly, wiping at your wet cheeks in an attempt to pull yourself together.
“Hey, hey it’s okay. I don’t know what happened, but it’s okay.” You reach for your ring finger, twisting the metal band repeatedly but it doesn't calm you. “Uhh…look why don’t you take the rest of the day. We can make do without you, let me order you an Uber to get you home. You nod, numb and silent as you try to understand what just happened. Were you losing your mind? Had you imagined it?
You swipe a hand under your nose and it comes away smeared with blood.
No, you hadn’t imagined it.
The ride home is spent quietly, this driver is thankfully not chatty and you’re left to stare despondently out the window of the backseat until the car pulls up in front of the house. No sooner have you stepped out of the car do you receive a text from an unfamiliar number. You open it to find a video attachment and a message that says Read me. It’s against your better judgement but your day has been filled with stress and horror, you think that it can’t possibly get any worse.
You’ve never been more wrong in your life.
The video that plays on your screen is of your uncle. It’s not the best quality video and there’s no sound, but it’s clearly from a security camera, and it's clear enough to identify him as it shows him committing the crime that he’s been accused of. Your stomach drops, and you feel like you’re going to be sick. You don’t know what to do or what to think so you do the only thing you can and that’s call the number that the video came from. You’re shaking as you wait for the line to pick up, and when it’s answered you feel unsteady and dizzy.
“Hello, lamb. My car should be pulling up shortly, and you have a choice to make. Get in it and come to me, or don’t and I’ll let the prosecution have this video.” The goes dead, and as if on cue a black town car pulls up behind you and stops in the same spot that your Uber had been moments ago. You feel like you’re on autopilot as you move on unsteady legs to the back door. You slide into the car, and the moment the door is closed the driver is pulling away and carrying you off to what you feel will be your doom.
You’re passive and don’t fight when you arrive at the secluded house, not even the sight of Brock is enough to snap you out of the robotic task of being led into the lion’s den. He takes in the sight of you, ripped jeans and an old t-shirt. A pair of well worn sneakers cover your feet, and your curls are piled on top of your head with a scarf, and the most make up you have on is a flavored lip balm. Brock scoffs at the sight of you, but you ignore him and try to brace yourself for whatever price Ransom is about to demand from you.
“You’re lucky the boss told me to keep my hands to myself. I owe you for that shit you pulled last time, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
You say nothing, simply staring ahead at the house as you move closer and closer. Once inside you’re led into what looks like an office, and Ransom sits comfortably in an armchair sipping a glass of something amber colored. He dismisses Brock for the evening, and once he leaves it’s just the two of you and no one else for miles.
“Where did you get that video?” You say, finally speaking and finding that your voice is a little hoarse from the ordeal earlier. You want to accuse him of being the thing to torment you earlier, but you fear saying it out loud and you know it sounds crazy.
God you feel like you’re being attacked on all sides.
“Doesn’t matter where I got it from, what matters is that I’m the one that has it and I can cause a lot of pain with it.” Ransom replies, smirking as he sips at his drink.
“He told me he didn’t do it, he lied to me. Why should I care anymore?” You don’t mean that, you know it and he knows it but the way he grins at you tells you that he isn’t done making you regret ever meeting him.
“He told you he didn’t do it because admitting the reason why he did would crush you.” Ransom replies, getting up and wandering over to where he’s got a bottle of whatever he’s drinking sitting. He plucks up a second glass and pours a shot's worth of the liquid, you can’t see what he’s doing clearly so you miss the drop of something that he adds to the drink before he saunters over and holds it out to you. You don’t touch the glass, shaking your head at it because you don’t drink and because you need to keep a clear head.
“If you know why he did it then just tell me.” You say, preparing yourself for the worst.
Ransom just chuckles darkly, and shoves the glass into your hands until you reluctantly take it. “He did it because of you, lamb.” He says falsely sweet. “Apparently that poor poor man he killed was overheard making some not so kind comments about you and what he planned on doing once he got his hands on you.” Ransom watches as you blink back tears and mindlessly lift the glass to your lips and gulp down the liquor with a choking cough and a grimace as it burns down your throat. “I should thank your uncle, him killing that idiot put you on the path to me.” He sighs, watching you sway as the little addition he’s added to your drink starts to kick in. “You could have been locked up in some psycho’s basement, but instead you’re here with me.”
You sway again, head swimming and dizzy as the glass drops from your hand and bounces on the plush carpet. You slump forward right into Ransom’s waiting arms, he strokes a thumb over the apple of your cheek with a grin. “My sweet little lamb.” Is the last thing you hear before darkness takes you.
It’s hours, or possibly a day, when you come to you aren’t sure which. All you know is that your head feels heavy, and so do your limbs. Cottonmouth has your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth and you desperately want for a sip of water. You try to move, hoping to make it to the bathroom sink to quell this hellish thirst. That’s when you realize you’re bound, rope wound around your wrists and winding up the length of your arms to keep you secured to something hard and wooden. You struggle, turning your head to either side to see that your arms are tied outstretched to a wooden cross.
“Finally awake, I was starting to worry that I had given you too much of that little potion.” Ransom’s voice is just loud enough to fill your head with a dull ache, and you groan pitifully.
“Please, I need water.” You croak, head rolling forward on your shoulders to hang heavily as you clenched your eyes shut against the dim lights that illuminate the room. Ransom hums in thought, observing you for a moment before wandering over to a small table and mixing a few things together. He approaches with a glass of something fizzy and sweet smelling, but you don’t trust him to drink considering the fact he’s clearly already drugged you. He brings the glass to your lips, and you turn away with a sound of protest. You hear the growl of frustration before you feel his fingers tightly gripping you by the jaw and tipping your head back so he can pour the concoction into your mouth.
He doesn’t give you a choice in swallowing it, covering your mouth and nose with his large hand until you're forced to swallow the sweet drink down. You don’t know what it is, but it seems to remedy everything that’s affecting you. Your head clears, the dryness in your mouth is sated, and the taste of stale liquor is gone. Your limbs no longer feel heavy and useless, you’re more aware of the state you’re in as well. Realizing that you’re bound and stripped down to your bra and panties, it prompts you to begin to struggle against your bonds.
Ransom’s amused laughter fills your ears, and you sag against the cross in defeat. “Now that you have a clear head, you’re welcome by the way, let’s revisit that deal you originally wanted to make.”
You shake your head, wrists tugging against the bright red ropes that keep you bound to the cross. They dig into your skin, and pull tighter each time you pull at them. Ransom lets his tongue run slowly over his plump bottom lip as he watches you struggle in vain, chuckling when you make a frustrated noise. “This doesn’t feel like a negotiation,” you’re exposed enough that it’s causing you to feel embarrassed and ashamed, and all you want to do is get your arms free so you can shield yourself from his hungry gaze.
“The choice is yours, lamb.” He begins, ignoring your protests when he steps in closer. “Deny me again, and you can go free. Your uncle, however, well once he loses the expensive lawyers and the prosecution receives the full video of the murder it’s very likely that he won’t stand a chance against the death sentence.” He lets his words sink in for a moment before he offers the counter. “Or you give me what I want, and I promise he’ll spend the rest of his days well taken care of.”
“What type of choice is that? I either let my uncle die or I let you have your way?” You can feel the tears brimming again and God you are so sick and tired of crying today so you fight them back shaking your head as you begin to take in short choppy breaths.
“Well when you put it that way…” Ransom is amused by your crisis, and he knows out of the two options there’s only one you’ll choose. You’re too sweet, too giving, and too selfless to leave someone you care about to a fate like the one your uncle is facing. And of course there’s the guilt, misplaced as it is, it works in Ransom’s favor just as well.
“You’re the devil.” You say sadly, knowing exactly what corner you’ve been backed into. The laughter that leaves Ransom is mocking and cruel and with an iron grip he grabs you by the jaw to force you to look into his wickedly grinning face.
“Not the devil, lamb, but close enough. Now, what’s it going to be?”
You open your mouth to speak, eyes cast down and voice barely above a whisper. “I—you promise my uncle will be spared? You’ll make sure he’s okay?”
Ransom nods, lessening his grip and letting his hand drift down to settle around your throat. The feeling of his thumb brushing over your pulse point makes you shiver, and you hate that such a simple touch is capable of stoking the heat between your thighs despite the situation. You don’t know why, but you blame the dreams and how they seem to have primed your body to react to his touch alone. You resist the urge to try and lean into it, you don’t even understand why you want to or why the blooming heat is steadily growing.
“Okay.” It feels like the final nail in your coffin when you say the word, and an eerie silence seems to settle around the room until the only thing you hear is your breathing and his.
Ransom drops his gaze to scan your barely covered body, and when he looks back up and meets your gaze you go to scream, but before you can his hand is squeezing tighter and choking off the noise. Blue eyes are glowing red, and you know for sure now that nothing you’ve been experiencing has been imagined. “No—you...”
Not the devil, lamb, but close enough.
The words echo in your mind, and you tremble at the way the shadows in the room seem to come from him. It had been him. The dark force that had tormented you earlier in the day, you know now without a doubt that it and Ransom are one in the same. “What—” You’re trying not to panic again, but all you want to do is scream and run. “What are you?” You’re afraid to ask but you need to know, you need the confirmation even if it won’t help you or bring you any peace of mind.
He runs a finger over the swells of your breasts, licking his lips as he contemplates whether or not he feels like answering that question. “The better question is who am I, lamb.” He says softly, pressing into your space to whisper against the shell of your ear. “They call me many things. The final persecutor, the beast from the abyss, the man of sin, the son of perdition, son of the devil. Just to name a few.”
Your body goes tense, eyes wide with fear and understanding of what he is claiming. You remember the stories from Sunday school, and bible study, you know who those titles belong too.
The Antichrist.
“No! This can’t happen! I can’t do this, I take it back!” This is so much worse than you thought before, and you feel every bit the sacrificial lamb bound in red ropes to the cross he’s secured you to.
“The deal has been struck, I will have what was promised.” His voice carries an edge that makes you attempt to shrink away only to be reminded that you can’t escape. His hands tear your bra and panties to scraps, and he hums in approval at the sight of you fully exposed and at his disposal. You let out a broken sound, tears threatening to fall again as you try desperately to fight them off. His hands wander over you, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts before pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefingers to tweak and roll them in between the pads of his digits. You bite back the sound that wants to desperately claw its way out of you, chest heaving with the effort to not simply give in to this monster’s depravity.
“I’ve thought of having you since that night you came seeking me out, but I know your type.” He sighs, bending to press his face into your neck so that he can inhale your scent. His teeth nip at you seconds later, drawing out a surprised yelp. “Innocent, and sweet. You would have never come to me so easily if I hadn’t resorted to a few dirty tricks.” He admits, drawing back to see the way your brows furrow and your expression twists with the realization that he’s been setting you up for this very moment. “How did you enjoy those dreams I sent you?” His hand snakes down your front, sliding between your clenched thighs and forcing them apart so he can cup your hot core in the palm of his hand. “I’d say you enjoyed them quite a bit.” He chuckles when he feels you’re already wet, and getting wetter for him. You gasp when you feel the heel of his palm grinding against your clit, the sudden burst of pleasure shooting through you like a jolt of electricity. He dips a finger into your slick entrance, hissing at the tightness of your untouched cunt.
When he withdraws he holds up his hand to show you the shining slickness that coats his finger. You look away, sniffling when he brings it to his lips and sucks it clean with a groan of satisfaction at the taste of you. It's better than any drug he's imbibed, and you just might turn out to be his new addiction. He needs more, and so Ransom chooses to go straight to the source while he watches you wallowing in shame and guilt for the way your body is betraying you.
“Are you gonna cry for me?” He teases, dropping to a knee to bring your legs up to drape over his shoulders. “Tastes so much fuckin’ sweeter when you cry.” You don’t mean to, but his cruel taunting finally makes you break. The tears roll down your cheeks, and a broken sob claws its way out of you when feel his hot tongue dragging through your folds.
“N-no, please. Don’t, Ran—“ Your words cut off as a sharp cry replaces them. Ransom's teeth bite down hard on your inner thigh, and you know a bruise will be left behind.
“You’ll call me, Sir. And you’re to be silent unless you’re begging me for more.” He commands and no sooner has he spoken is he back to pressing his hot mouth to your core. You bite back the sounds of pleasure that are threatening to come out of you. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard that you taste the coppery zing of your blood.
Ransom's tongue laps its way up to your clit, and your attempt to jerk your hips away from his menacing mouth are met with a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. Tongue swirling over your sensitive bud, his glowing red gaze is on your face, watching the way you try to deny your pleasure. He seals his lips around your clit, sucking at it with enough pressure that you can’t help but cry out and let your moans finally be heard. You feel him pressing a finger into you again, working you open enough for him to tease a second digit into your quivering entrance. The stretch is more than you could ever expect and you clamp down around them as Ransom begins to drag his thick digits in and out of you.
He’s done this in your dreams but those dreams are nothing compared to reality, and you feel yourself nearing your peak at an alarming rate. You squirm and try to escape before he pushes you to that point. Ransom keeps you in place with a firm hold, his free hand grips against your hip hard enough to bruise. He pushes you right to the edge and just when you think he might send you flying over he stops. Pulling away from your slick, quivering sex with a wet pop, Ransom grins up at you before standing to his full height. “So sweet, sweeter than I could have ever imagined.”
You say nothing, transfixed on the way your arousal glistens against his mouth, and frustrated by the way he’s left you aching and unfulfilled. The shame of knowing your body had given in, even worse that you’re disappointed that he had stopped before you could finish.
“Don’t pout, lamb. I’m far from done with you, and I’ll have you begging soon.” He coos before capturing your lips in a rough kiss that has the taste of your arousal and blood from your split lip mixing. He kisses you deep, stealing your breath and pressing you back against the cross he’s tied you to. You can feel the corners of the wooden beam digging into your back, it's uncomfortable but Ransom doesn't seem to take that into consideration. He growls into your mouth, gripping your body so tight that you squirm, whimpering against his mouth. Ransom forces his tongue into your mouth, and he can taste the very essence of you, and it nearly makes him abandon his plans to draw this out and make you beg for him to give you more.
Nearly, but not quite.
Your head is cloudy and swimming, but through the haze you can feel him sliding those two fingers back into you without warning. You’re so slick that you swear you can hear the faint schlick, schlick, schlick of your sex being toyed with. You catch yourself beginning to return the damning kiss, realizing a second too late and jerking your head away with panting breaths. This man, if he can be called that, is dragging you further and further into this twisted game. “You’re trying so hard not to give in, but this body is screaming out for me.” He says with a dark chuckle, fingers pumping shallowly into you just enough to tease and keep you on edge. You shake your head, denying the obvious truth that despite your efforts you’re dripping for him and aching in a way that no one has ever had you aching before. Part of you just wishes for him to force the climax out of you, at least then you can say you tried to resist. He doesn’t, instead he drags it out and teases his thumb over your clit until you’re at the edge again just for him to stop. “Beg me for it, and I’ll let you have it.”
By the sixth denial of your climax there are fresh tears on your cheeks from the frustration, shame, and embarrassment at being brought to this point. Ransom makes the bargain again. Beg me for it. You try to fight it but when you feel his fingers beginning to slow again you break with a choked sob and a “please, please not again.” You hate this, you hate feeling so needy and desperate but that’s exactly what he’s turned you into and you just want the relief he’s been denying you.
“Say it, lamb. Please, sir let me cum.” He instructs, smirking at your trembling form and admiring how he’s broken you down.
You whine behind your teeth, the feeling of helplessness fueling the neediness in your voice when you repeat his words. “Please, sir let me cum.” You say, trying not to think about how weak you sound or the wet squelch when he suddenly pulls his fingers from you. The sound of despair that escapes you is involuntary and your brows furrow in confusion. You’ve done what he wants, and you don’t understand why he’s not making good on his promise.
Ransom senses your discontent and confusion and chuckles, stripping off his soft blue sweater and the shirt he wears under it. His hands drop to his belt, and he makes a show of pulling it off before doing away with his pants. You can’t help the way your eyes are transfixed on him as he bares himself to you, and he relishes in the way you suck in a breath at the sight of his cock thick and hard as beads of precum dribble from its head. You press your thighs together, fearful of the prospect of him trying to fit so much into you. “Oh, did you think I was going to let you cum on my fingers?” He questions mockingly, reaching down to lift your legs and making you wrap them around his narrow waist. “The only way you’re cumming tonight is on my cock.” He tells you, and your breath comes out in quick pants when you feel the blunt tip of his length running through your folds as he collects and smears your wetness over it.
“I—no please, please I’ve never…I’m not ready, and it won’t fit.” You’re aware that he won’t stop until he has what he wants.
“Oh I know, lamb. I know this is the first time, but trust me I'll make it fit.” His blazing gaze shifts to the silver band on your right hand. “I’ll make it good for you.” He says, and it does nothing to comfort you when you feel him at your entrance. You suck in a breath just as he pushes in with a hiss at how tight you are. When he presses further, and breaches the barrier that marks your virginity, the strained sound that comes out of you is one of surprise and pain. His fingers are no match for his cock when he starts to fill you, and you clamp down around him so tightly that he has to still and calm himself. He expects you to be tight, but the way your body is squeezing him is beyond perfection. You’re like a vise around him, and while it feels good for him, he needs you to relax enough to let him move. “Look at me.” It’s an order, and when you don’t immediately comply he startles you with the inhuman growl that rumbles out of him. Your eyes snap to his expecting to see the blazing red still there, but instead it’s the icy blues that drag you under and fog your mind with his influence and make your thoughts drift away. “Now breathe, and relax.”
You release the breath you were holding, and with it goes the tension in your body. Soon your walls are fluttering around him, and your hips are squirming just the smallest bit as if your body is begging for more. Ransom takes it as his cue and begins to thrust into you, going deeper with each one and touching spots within you that you never knew existed. His grunts, and groans of pleasure mix with your moans and cries to fill your ears as he fucks you on the cross. “Fuck, told you I’d make it fit, lamb” He grunts, a hand moving to your thigh and the other gripping your ass as he ruts into you. “Knew this cunt would take me just fine, greedy little thing doesn’t wanna let me go does she?” He continues, and you feel the way your body clenches around him at that. Ransom curses, head rolling back on his shoulders for a moment while he loses himself in the way your body seems to suck him deeper with every thrust until he’s buried to the hilt.
There’s a voice that you hear, pleading and begging for more, in the part of your mind that’s still yours and not under his influence you realize that it’s you. He happily obliges, moving faster as changing the angle of his thrusts just so to hit a spot inside you that has you cumming before you realize what’s happening. You cry out, outstretched arms struggling in the ropes keeping you bound as the wave of overwhelming pleasure crashes over you. Ransom surges forward, burying his face in your neck to suck and bite bruises against your skin. Without that eye contact the hypnotic spell he’s had you under breaks and it’s disorienting as you try to ground yourself. It’s an impossible task and a sob of pleasure sputters out of you, incoherent words following when Ransom’s hips continue to pump his cock into your sensitive, pulsing cunt.
You want to tell him that it’s too much, that you can’t take anymore and that the sensations are becoming too overwhelming but you can’t form the words. All you can do is struggle in your bonds, and pray that he’ll finish soon. When his fingers move from gripping your ass to drift between your thighs, and you feel the rough circles he draws against your clit you scream. Another climax crashes over you, clenching your eyes shut you swear you can see stars bursting behind them as your body shudders and your thighs tremble. The pleasure is quickly turning maddening and you try to focus on anything but the electric pleasure that’s shooting up your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body.
“P-please, please, t-too much, ‘s too m-much.” You babble out, crying out in frustrated pleasure as he forces a third orgasm from you.
“Shh shh, gonna fill you up soon.” He breathes against your skin before sucking another bruise onto your neck. The fourth climax has you reeling, and it pulls him over the edge along with you. Your fluttering walls milking his cock of his spend as he cums deep inside your overwrought body with a loud moan of pleasure. You’re panting, and shaking in the aftermath, tears on your cheeks and mind in a haze. When he pulls out you whine, and sag heavily against the cross. He takes the moment to admire his handiwork before he reaches for your right hand to pull your purity ring from your finger with a taunting laugh. “This is mine now, think I’ll put it on a chain and wear it. A nice little reminder that even the innocent ones can turn into cock drunk whores.” You don't have the energy to speak, and there are no more tears that you can cry so you say nothing. Ransom seems satisfied, and a moment later you’re crumpling to the ground when the ropes keeping your arms bound vanish. “You and I are going to have so much fun, lamb.” You hear him say as you passively lay there unable to bring yourself to look up at him, afraid of what you’ll see. Instead you close your eyes and let the exhaustion take you away to a dreamless sleep.
You don’t know for how long you sleep but when you wake up the news is playing on the television and you’re in a bed instead of on the floor where you’d fallen. You’re cleaned up, still bare, and you clutch the covers to your chest when you realize. Ransom is nowhere to be seen and you think now might be a good time to try to find your clothes and run. Something on the television catches your attention, the news anchor says your uncle’s name and mentions something that makes you freeze at the edge of the bed.
“Opening statements were made today in the case of the horrific and brutal murder of…” it fades out and you realize that you weren’t there because you were here offering yourself up like a lamb for slaughter. “…the defense is arguing against the death penalty, and instead pleading insanity. If found guilty but insane it’s very likely that he will spend the rest of his life in a psychiatric facility.
You stare dumbly at the television, trying to process what you just heard when the sound of Ransom’s smooth voice suddenly reaches your ears. “Look at that, my little lamb is finally awake.”
You try to scramble away when he takes a step closer but the soreness between your thighs has you wincing and hissing in pain. “You lied to me! You told me you’d help my uncle and that you’d take care of him!” Ransom laughs, shoulders bouncing lightly as continues to close in on you.
“No, I promised you that he would be well taken care of for the rest of his days, and he will be.” His smile takes on a mean edge as he reaches you and begins to tug at the covers you’re desperately clutching. “He will get the best care possible while he lives out the rest of his life heavily medicated and locked up with the criminally insane. So much better than a death sentence don’t you think?”
He knows that it’s not and that’s what makes it cruel. Your uncle would call it a fate worse than death, and you’re the one that’s condemned him to it by trying to make a deal with something evil. “I need to call my aunt.” You murmur, trying to move carefully across the bed. Ransom is on you before you manage to slip away, pulling the covers from your naked body. He hovers over you, and you can see that he’s made good on another promise as well. Your purity ring hangs around his neck from a silver chain, dangling in your face and taunting you with the shameful memory of the prior night. You try to even out your breathing, but it becomes difficult when you feel Ransom’s weight settling between your thighs. Wincing you let out a pained noise. “Not again, please. I’m sore, and I just want to call my aunt.”
Ransom rolls his eyes, shaking his head and grinds against you despite the pained noise you make. “That’s fine, lamb. You’ve got two other holes for me to claim.” He chuckles darkly against your mouth before claiming it in a demanding kiss. “If you can talk once I’m done with your mouth I’ll let you call her, deal?”
Summary: You have something he wants, and Nick plans to get it.
Word Count: 926
Warnings: DARK FIC, dubcon/noncon, general language warning, gun play, coercion, voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied future smut, degradation, Nick is mean, Nick Fowler (he's a whole warning whew chillay), minor spoilers
A/N: I said I was gonna hold off but I lied, this man has me in a chokehold that is sadly not literal, minor spoilers so it's tagged as such. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don't forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.
The gun is cool against the apple of your cheek, dragging softly down as the man's icy stare keeps your own captive. You know what he wants, he’s already told you and you shake your head no. The sound of chains rattling behind you remind you that your boyfriend is still bound to a metal chair, gagged and unable to rescue you from whatever twisted things the man has planned. “I don’t have anything to do with this, please. This is between the two of you.” You insist, voice shaky and barely above a whisper as if you’re afraid to speak too loudly at this man. Nick, you think he said his name was when he had you dragged into the room and roughly pushed in front of him. Your boyfriend clearly hasn’t heard you, because he’s still begging behind the gag for Nick to let you go free.
He chuckles at your willingness to leave your boyfriend to his fate, and he might have let you go if it weren’t for the fact that you do know something. You know exactly where his money is, even if you don’t realize that you do, and he’ll get the information out of you one way or another. Or he’ll torture your loving idiot boyfriend with the sight of him using you until the idiot breaks.
The gun brushing over your cheek gently slides lower, the cool metal kissing the skin of your neck and causing you to let out a shudder when the barrel glides over a sensitive spot. The chill shoots straight to your traitorous pussy and you clench around nothing. Jean clad thighs clench together, and Nick doesn’t miss the subtle movement. He smirks, sliding the barrel of the gun under your chin and forces your head up to meet his icy gaze. “There’s no way out of this, honey. Now be a good girl and do as you’re told.” He tells you, pressing the gun harder under your chin until you gasp.
There’s no doubt that he’ll hurt you if you don’t comply. “I—”
His brows raise, and he cuts you off with a tsk. “On your knees honey. If you aren’t going to use that mouth to tell me what I want to hear, then you might as well show me what else it’s good for.” The gun moves, barrel pressing against your lips as you whimper. Tears slowly stream from your eyes, and shakily you sink to your knees.
“Please, sir—”
He cuts you off again, this time with a satisfied groan. “Oh honey, the tears and the begging are really doing it for me right now. Say it again.” He demands, and you sniffle.
“Please, sir.” You don’t look at him when you say it and he taps your cheek lightly with the gun. Your eyes snap up to his, shuddering and letting out a small frightened cry. Your boyfriend thrashes against the chains holding him, and Nick laughs cruelly at the sight of his helplessness.
“Eyes on me, honey.” He gives you a moment to take the full weight of his gaze as it bears down on you. “Now this time when you say it, I want you to beg me not to hurt you. I mean really convince me that keeping you alive is worth it, especially if you don’t have anything useful for me in that pretty little head of yours.” There’s a dark, lustful glint in his eyes as he speaks, and as scared as you are you know exactly how you need to play this if you’re going to get out of this alive.
“Please, sir. Don’t hurt me, I-I don’t know anything about your business with him, I don’t I swear.” You sniffle again, teary eyes not daring to stray from him as you reach out to test the boundaries and grip gently at his pants leg. “I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me. I won’t say anything to anyone, just please let us go…I-I’ll make him tell you whatever you want, I just want to go home.” He licks his lips as you beg, your hand inching a little higher and drawing his attention. A slow grins crawls over his face, and Nick licks his lips. “I’ll do anything.” You say again.
A long silence stretches between you and Nick, the only sounds in the room being your boyfriend's muffled shouts and rattling chains. Nick’s men don’t move, and he doesn’t dismiss them before he gives you his next order.
“Open your mouth,” you do, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. “Tongue out for me, honey.” You do that as well, and when you feel the heavy weight of the gun against the pink muscle you flinch but you’re careful not to move away. “You’ll do anything, huh?” He runs the barrel back and forth until drool begins to slowly dribble from the tip of your tongue. “We’ll see about that.”
You hate the way you squirm slightly at the implication of his words, fear, something darker and mostly unwelcomed, swirling in your gut as he instructs you to suck the barrel of his gun. “Gotta see if this mouth is worth anything first.” He says, and you let out a choked sob when he pushes the gun deeper.
“Yeah, that’s it honey." He murmurs, glancing from you to your struggling boyfriend with a sick grin. When he looks back down at you he's pleased to see that your eyes are still on him. "Good girl, maybe you aren’t useless after all.”
