You pinch the bridge of your nose as the Danforth twins argue. You just wanted a nice lunch with your husband and your best friend turned sister-in-law, “Guys, please-“
“He keeps complaining about his food,” Ursula gestures across the table to Titus.
He rolls his eyes at her, “We pay top dollar for quality food and service. I have a right to be upset that it’s not up to par!”
You sigh and place your hand over Titus, “Lovey, please. No need to make a scene over a salad.”
“Thank you, Y/N. The voice of reason!” Ursula exclaims and you groan as Titus is immediately offended.
He looks to you, “You’re taking her side? I’m your husband!”
“She was my friend before she married you. I out rank you,” Titus’ twin smiles gleefully, feeling victorious in the argument.
You shake your head, “I’m not choosing either of your sides. You’re both acting like children right now and it’s getting tiring! Not to mention how embarrassing you two are being!” You immediately stand from your chair and Titus looks up at you.
“Where are you going?”
“To another restaurant,” you grab your bag and walk away from them, heading to the exit. You’re starving and you are not going to let the Danforth twins ruin your day.
the danforth twins sharing has me frothing at the mouth actually
as a rabid bisexual genuinely tysm for keeping me up at night with this - they're both so
I'm glad you liked it! It was in my head the entire time I watched the film.
This stems from my concubine!reader idea but I'm Literally foaming away in a word document to expand on further on these ideas. Here's my thoughts so far
Content warning: AFAB!Reader, no pronouns used, smut so minors DNI (predator/prey, doggy style, d/s relationships, spanking, voyeurism, overstimulation, praise kink, nipple sucking/breast play, oral - f receiving, edging, crying, facesitting)
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It's the fresh start of a new week. Often, after being away from you, Titus needs to feel powerful, so I imagine lots of prey/predator scenarios in various places he books out entirely for you both. He adores it when you shriek at his sudden appearance (for a man of his bulk, he's surprisingly light on his feet). Doesn't matter how many times he does this to you, he always gets one out of you when he slams his weapon of choice a hair's breadth from your body to let you know you're caught.
God, does he adore it when you fight back. Tossing you over his shoulder or tossing you tied up on the back of a golf cart as he transports you back to his room for the evening.
He tells you his every move, fucking you from behind whilst he narrates the CCTV footage of the hunt he's making you watch. He gives feedback (spanks) for the mistakes that led to their capture, relishing in the marks he leaves and the gasps that jerk out your lungs. Grabbing your chin to make you face the footage when you get overstimulated, he asks for your feedback, your praise, over how good a job he did at capturing you. It reminds him of his place as much as it does you.
Another week arrives though and he just needs that reassurance that he is strong, powerful, his own man so much more. A man who just so happens to be very good at pleasing his lovers and following their every instruction. You provide that nurturing touch absent from his life that eases his insecurities with arousal.
Sometimes he nurses from you whilst you pet through his hair. His stubble prickles around your sore breasts that he would often bite. That's rarely enough though. His insecurities manifest as an urge to prove himself.
So you create scenarios for him to do so. He's awkward and fumbling when not in the thrill of a hunt. His eyes don't blaze with bloodthirstiness, only shine with pleading he can't verbalise. Quick and almost clumsy with his eagerness, he settles between your legs when you order him to and he feasts at just the speed and enthusiasm you declare. Groans of relief reach you after you call him good boy, as you feedback how amazing he makes you feel, when he touches you "right there".
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Thursday rolls around like every other before it. Ursula has spent her entire life in this motherly in-charge role. She goes unrewarded for her efforts with her twin. Not from Titus, he doesn't get it. But her father does and he never acknowledges beyond a look. So, yes, on occasion, she just needs to feel useful. She just needs to know her help is doing something.
Peeling off the clothes she bought for you, she unveils your body like a work of art from beneath a canvas. Her restorative touches bring you both to life. Gentleness oozes from her in a way she isn't often allowed to show, kissing every bruise her brother left behind. If she cannot stop him, she can heal in his wake.
It's not just that though. Edging over overstimulation, she loves to see the results of her labour flourish beneath her fingertips. Bringing tears of joy down your cheeks and your thighs fills her with pride as she fills you with her strap. How you look at her in awe whenever you see her, keen into your hand on your cheek, let her position you however she wants because she knows what's best, it's intoxicating. You need her. It's a power-trip like no other and Ursula craves it.
That being said, she needs to not be "in charge" all the time. A role reversal that took time for her to get relaxed for, you manage to convince Ursula that she deserves just as much as you - if not, more - to relax and be taken care of. That she can relinquish all control to you for one evening.
You are careful to empty her mind of decisions and duress over the next few hours. This woman could kill you a hundred ways (definitely more) if she so chose but was placing her faith in you. Every kiss, every stroke, every breath,
The first time she grabs your hand from sliding away from her breast, she freezes in horror at her own lack of decorum. Her hips still on your tongue as she stares down at you, her hair falling like willow tree leaves around her face, her necklace glinting and trying to distract you from your task (as if Ursula's body could ever be something you tear your gaze from). Your eyes are black with arousal and, when she tries to take her hand away, you latch back onto her chest and squeeze just how you had been. Her moan stumbles out. This is instinct she was giving into, something that you gave her. A gift.
Then you pin her back to your face whilst she clings to the headboard,
squeezing her thigh with your other hand until your vision goes dizzy. You taste her for days; Ursula feels you for longer.
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The Danforth twins enjoy their private time with you as much as they enjoy their time together. They are twins and they are individuals.
That competitive streak that slices through them both though, it's only so long before they both cave in, for better or for worse...
Summary: Waking up at the Danforth estate doesn't go quite as you expected.
A/N: New RON2 content got me feeling inspired, so I started writing again, even though I'm very sick, but seeing as I can't sleep, why the fuck not?
Part 1
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Waking up felt weird.
The lights were too bright, the room was too big, the windows were too large, the bed was too soft, and the blankets were too warm, yet everything was so perfectly in tune with the next that it all blurred into one elegant room. It was certainly better than any room you've ever been in. The floors were marble with a plush carpet under the bed and two dressers that occupied each side of the bed. There was a closet and a bathroom, and you even had a balcony.
It was all so overwhelming that you hadn't even noticed Titus had been in the room the entire time. "Are you going to lie there and stare at nothing all day?" Titus spoke up, evident sarcasm dripping into his tone to show that he was bored. He shifts in the plush reading chair in the corner of the room, crossing his legs while slightly tilting his chin upward as if making himself appear more regal than he already was.
"I was processing," you stated.
He hums, reaching for his cup of tea on the side table. "I have some tea if you'd like some; we have much to discuss," Titus stated. His words came out as an offer, but you can hear the underlying tone in them; it was anything but an offer; it was a command.
"You kidnapped me, and now you want to have a conversation over tea as if nothing happened?" you stated. He shrugs, which only further annoys you. "You know what? Sure, why the fuck not?"
You pull the blankets off your body and swing your legs over the side of the bed to sit up, only for a wave of dizziness to wash over you. "Slowly, sweetheart; the sedative is still in your system," Titus said gently, setting his tea down and walking over to you. His firm, calloused hands weigh down on your shoulders as he meets your gaze and finds your eyes glossy, clearly still affected by the drug.
"I'm fine," you grumbled.
"You're not fine, little bunny. Your friend was kidnapped in front of you, and you've spent the last three days running from my family only for us to kidnap you when you were so close to freedom," Titus replied, pushing your hair out of your face. "Look at me,"
Hesitantly, you meet his gaze.
"I don't expect you to be okay, and I don't expect you to take any of this easily. Hell, I admire your ability to hold yourself together. Right now you're putting on a brave face when others would be crying or pleading for their lives. However, I do expect one thing from you, and that's your compliance," Titus explained.
"Submission is survival. Disobedience is death," you conceded.
"Smart girl," he praised, helping you stand up without falling before guiding you over to the chairs and sitting you down across from his chair. He pours a second cup of tea and adds sugar into it before stirring. "The way I see it, kid, you have two options. One guarantees your survival, and potentially even happiness; it just depends on how you view it, and the other guarantees a very long, agonizing life that'll make you wish you chose the first one."
He sets the cup in front of you before returning to his seat and crossing his legs. "So that leaves me with one question. Which option are you going to choose? Option one: accept your life as it is and be treated like a princess. We would love you and treat you as if you're our child. You'd have everything provided for you: clothes, school, books, anything your little heart could ever desire. You'd want for nothing."
"And option two?" you inquired.
"Why would you even think about option two after I've just offered you anything you could ever want? What could possibly be so wrong about option one that you want to hear about the second one?" Titus stated.
"You're a very direct person, are you not?" you asked.
"Among other things," he mused.
"Then let me be direct with you because we both know it's not about which door I choose. The doors are an illusion; they end in the same place. The motive behind your question is time. If I choose option one, I'd be an equal. However, if I'm a fool and choose option two, you'll make me a puppet. What you're trying to determine is how long it'll take to get me under your control. You're trying to decide if I can be reasoned with or if you need to break me," you replied.
His lips twitch up into a smirk, and he reaches for his cup. "You're quite an incisive person," he notes, taking a long sip of his drink. "But it doesn't answer my question."
"Fine, door one," you stated.
"Smart choice," he approved.
"I'd have been a fool to choose the second one," you commented.
"You'd be surprised at how many do," he replied.
The room falls into a comfortable silence as you both quietly drink your tea, but like all good things, they never last. He sets his empty cup down and stands, his tall figure looming over your small one. You don't say anything; a tinge of fear courses through your veins. He offers his hand. "Come on, little bunny, let me show you around your new home. We'll have a little chat about your role here on the way," Titus commanded.
You abandon the cup of tea on the table and take his hand, allowing him to guide you out of the room and into a long hallway where the floors were polished, and a variety of paintings occupied the mostly blank walls.
"Do you have a library?" you softly questioned, your curiosity getting the better of you. Surely they must have a library, or at least a collection of books.
"Yes, it's one of my favorite places," he admits.
He keeps a firm hold on your hand as he guides you to the west quarters of the estate before stopping at two large black double doors. Momentarily your hand was freed so that he could push open the heavy doors, which revealed rows upon rows of books of varying genres. However, it appears that you two weren't alone. Elijah occupied the sleek leather couch, his feet propped up on a stool with a book in hand. His gaze flickers from his book and lands on you, who for some reason felt uneasy and shuffled behind Titus.
"Easy, little bunny, nothing to worry about. Elijah spends quite a bit of his time in the library or his office; he won't hurt you," Titus assured, carefully tugging you away from your hiding spot behind him.
"How's your head, darling?" Elijah spoke up, setting his book aside and giving you his full attention. The professionalism you observed earlier was still very much there, but it seemed to be at ease; he wasn't displaying himself to an audience, he was just being himself.
"Better now," you replied, tensing when Titus's hands rested on your shoulders.
Titus checks his watch, sighing to himself before turning you around to face him. He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. "I have a meeting to attend to, but I will leave you here with Elijah so that he may explain the rules. You are to behave; are we clear?" Titus affirmed.
"Yes," your voice comes out quieter than you intended it to.
"Good girl," he praised, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before walking away, dissipating as he rounds the corner at the end of the hallway. You stare at the empty hallway, oddly hoping that he'd return. You can't quite explain it, but you missed him, or maybe you simply miss the idea of not being alone.
"He'll be back, sweetheart," Elijah assured.
You stare at the empty hallway a moment longer before letting out a small huff and shuffling over to the couch, sitting down and pulling your knees to your chest. "Let's start with the basics. What do you think are the most obvious rules we'd implement? There's no right or wrong answer," Elijah stated.
"Uh, no escaping, and no using my powers to hurt myself or one of you." "No fighting, kicking, screaming, scratching, or punching," you listed before pausing. "I don't really know what else."
"That's okay. I know this can be overwhelming, so you might not remember all of the rules. So, I took the liberty of making a book so that you can have a reminder," Elijah explained, grabbing a book from the side table and holding it out for you to take, which you did. "Why don't you read that, and afterward we'll talk?"
You nod and open the book. You skip over the common logic rules and go straight to the harder-to-remember rules that might not seem obvious but were clearly important enough for them to make a rule of.
An hour passes, and you finish reading the rules.
"Elijah?" you spoke up, setting the book aside.
"Yes, dear?" Elijah replied, his gaze unwavering from his book.
"I'm hungry," you said softly.
He checks his watch. "It is lunchtime, and I'm hungry myself. Titus should be finishing his meeting soon. He'll join us in the dining hall. Come now, follow me; don't wander off," Elijah stated, standing up and leading the way to the dining hall downstairs.
You followed him.
"How long have you and Ursula been married?" you asked.
"How did you know we're married?" he asked.
"You both are wearing matching wedding bands," you pointed out.
He offers a small smile at your observation. Most people don't pick up on something so quickly, but you figured it out, and you barely even knew them. "Fifteen years and counting," he revealed, opening the doors to the dining room where Ursula was already sitting at the table scrolling on her phone.
You stayed by the door while he crossed the room and kissed her cheek. "Evening, love," Elijah said softly, causing the woman to smile.
"Evening, honey," Ursula replied, her gaze flicking to you by the door. "Come sit, sweetheart; I'm sure you're starving. Titus just wrapped his meeting; he'll be here in a few."
"Where do I even sit?" you asked hesitantly.
"Next to me, of course," Ursula stated, her tone matter-of-fact.
"Right, sorry," you mumbled, shuffling over to the chair next to her.
"We'll take you on a proper tour after breakfast," Elijah told you.
Just then the doors to the dining hall reopen and Titus steps in. "Apologies for being late; I had to deal with a dumbass who clearly didn't know how to do his job right. " Titus groused, crossing the room to kiss your forehead. "Seeing as I haven't gotten any calls or texts, I assume you've been a good girl, haven't you?"
You nod.
"Good, I would've hated for your first day to have ended up in the cellar." Titus remarked, taking a seat next to you. "Anyway, why has lunch not arrived? I'm not in a waiting mood today."
"No clue, but I'm starving, and I'm bored of waiting. If lunch is not ready in five minutes, I'll have to ruin my new manicure and roll some heads," Ursula retorted. As if on cue, the maids enter the dining hall with plates of food. "Oh, so nice of you to finally understand the concept of time,"
Titus and Elijah chuckle in response.
You kept quiet and didn't mention their rude remarks. It was obvious that they were people of little patience, which only further acts as a reminder to be on your best behavior until you can come up with a game plan on how to escape. As hungry as you were, your appetite seemed to have dissipated as your exhaustion became more evident.
It wasn't until you nearly face-planted into your food, which Titus stopped at the last moment, that you realized the sedative was still very much in your system. "Alright, honey, come on, let's get you back to bed. You can eat when you wake up," he soothed, easily scooping you up.
Again, you didn't fight it.
It felt oddly nice to be cared for, even if it was by someone as demented and scary as Titus Danforth, whose name brings utter fear to those who truly understand what he's capable of. "I'm sorry," you tiredly murmured, your wandering mind only making you further tired.
"Shhh, little bunny, nothing to be sorry for. I should've known it was too early to allow you out of your room. The sedative hasn't quite made its way out of your system just yet." Titus gently explained, carrying you back to your room and tucking you into bed. "Focus on resting, sweetheart. I'll check on you in a bit."
His words barely registered as darkness once again consumed you, rendering your muscles lax and your eyes closed as your head lolled off to the side, indicating that you've fallen asleep.
A small smile tugs on Titus's lips as he watches you sleep, his hand instinctively coming up to trace your jaw. "One day, very soon, you'll understand, and when that day comes, I'll be waiting," Titus pondered, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your temple before rising from the bed and walking to the door. "Sweet dreams, little witch."
With that he closes the door behind him, the lock clicking in place, a silent reminder that you were not a guest but rather a precious jewel for them to keep under lock and key.
He’s always been a little bit of a bitch. Rich people right? Who to blame if not the wealthy.
Well, admittedly he had been born in the right family, and some would say that was the price to pay for the satanic cult they were a part of.
Which is why any sane person with their morals intact would run far, far from that place. Which is exactly what you did, disappearing once you had the perfect opportunity. And yes you were successful, however there were many caveats to that story.
And the only person that came close to being mildly sane was Ursula. At the very least she had the ability to not be clouded by her judgement, she was able to set aside any animosity she had for others and act accordingly.
Whereas her twin, Titus was quite the opposite. Driven by that hunger, that power he possessed. What the world offered him on a silver platter. The thirst he felt deep within would eventually be quenched by his desires. It always was.
His deep seated greed surfaced at any given moment was the bane of any person’s existence. Bane of your existence. He acted like a petulant child. Got treated like one too. Greedy, selfish, a prick.
Ursula could deal with him, easing him off and offering him alternatives. Guiding him away from becoming who she feared he would become, a man with no restraint, loose in the wild with nothing to tether him back to. So she had the idea of tying him to someone, using them to get to him, so he would always come running back to his place. Act as if he had a reason to care for them. To be responsible. To not be greedy, selfish or a prick.
And it worked to an extent.
His psychotic tendencies cooled down to mildly psychotic tendencies. It's not like he thought whatever he was doing was wrong. No one ever did tell him to stop driving an axe at people’s heads. Severed heads lolling around the back of the estate, whether it was for entertainment or because he was severely pissed off. In fact it was encouraged. So instead of bottling it up, he released his pent up urges this way.
When you were brought into the family, still a child, he let his fondness grow. Sprouting through the seasons, every quarter of the year it went through its changes, germinating, maturing, pushing upwards into the presence of the sun.
A gentle hand was needed and he was not that. So he learned, albeit hesitantly, but when he saw you that reluctance went out the window. Agreeing immediately with his twin when he held you. He became soft and pliable in your presence, no more was the man that relied on violence alone.
He wasn’t meant to take on a role like this. Wasn’t built for this, nevertheless no one comes into this world ready and all knowing. They learn, they adapt.
And learn and adapt, he did. It was downright pathetic. How quick that man changed.
And he kept shifting into someone Ursula had tried to keep at bay, coupled with his deranged mentality and his need for your acceptance, he became volatile.
So it wasn’t a surprise when he became distraught at how adamantly you rejected his advances. All he wanted was to be needed. By you. The only person ‘pure’ enough in his eyes to take what he gives, ignore his flaws. The only person who had not been tainted by the history of his family.
Once you somewhat figured him out, what kind of family you had been forced into and the man you were stuck with, the chances of you escaping this place slowly drove down into the negatives.
Latching onto the idea that you’d finally give him what he wants, so you’d give him enough to satiate him for the time being. Periodically give up, reciprocate what you could and he embraced it wholeheartedly, pride filling him up to the brim as he smiled from ear to ear.
But every few years it became too much, after witnessing a sacrifice from the cracks of the wooden doors that was the last straw. So of course in your little mind you jumped at the opportunity to leave that wretched place. It took him hours to find you, your school situated near the city, you took your chances and slipped away. And when he did, you woke with him next to you, reclined back, napping. From then onwards you became homeschooled.
But in the end, he was still a fool, a crazy fool. And as it was abundantly clear, he loved a chase.
Hunting for sport he called it.
It was mostly for recreational purposes rather than for sustenance. It was the thrill of hunting them down that tickled him, soothing that ache and when it didn’t, he went back for seconds, severing heads like he was chopping wood for a fire.
There was a certain intent behind this hunt, it came down to capturing his prey and situating them back to their rightful place. And he hunted you down, through the forest that lay beyond the estate. Passageways leading to the gates that would grant you the freedom you so desperately sought.
It felt like a game of hide and seek.
You were never scared of him. But when he was hunting you down like he does with those poor animals, that fright you usually were able to squash down came back up. Heart hammering against your chest, stomach swishing about as you ran across the soily paths carved from extensive use. That sense of false hope was no more. You wouldn’t even call it hope in the first place.
You knew how this would end.
You felt like a sacrificial lamb. His for the taking.
And he’d get overbearing too after he’d pin you down during the middle of winter or fall, or whichever season you had decided you had enough and began the start of his favourite game. Coddling you like a hurt child later, in need of his provision after he had tranquilised you.
At times he’d request others to find you to make the game more interesting. Instill some much needed fear within you, deeming it not enough to just allow you to parade around whilst he’s playing a long game of cat and mouse.
Though once when you were caught by one of them, they were ruthless in their pursuit of their mission. And as a response to danger you fought against them, always carrying something to retaliate. But in the end it came down to strength and brutality and it rendered you into a bloody pile, left disoriented as your vision tilted from being beat down to the ground.
Which of course sent Titus into a frenzy of rage, releasing his anger by slamming the axe over and over into the guy who was probably dead already by now.
Curled in a fetal position, staring at the man who had a dane axe sticking out of him, the blade slicing his chest till his breathing ceased. Blood splattered across Titus’ face, running down his forehead and cheeks by the time he was done. He picks out his weapon from the man's chest cavity after tugging at it a couple times, huffing from the strenuous deed he had just committed. Actually yea you were scared of him, especially right now in this state.
He calms down just enough to shift his full undivided attention onto you, a hacking cough could be heard from you due to the guy who tried to choke you to death. Shushing you gently, he wiped your nose with a handkerchief that he kept stuffed in his pocket for times like this. Carefully removing the blood to assess the damage inflicted upon your precious face.
On his knees, resting the middle of your back against it, he lifts you by the back of the neck, bringing your face closer to his. you struggle against his hold from the discomfort and the pain. Your neck was sore and it felt as if a golf ball had lodged itself in your throat, making it increasingly difficult to swallow.
“If you had just stayed put,” there are tears welling up in his eyes, jaw clenching, “this wouldn’t have happened,” then the tears drip onto your chin, mixing with the blood that had oozed out from your nose, painting your face all the way down to your collarbones with the crimson liquid.
He sounds like he’s guilting you for doing this, but in reality he knows it was because of him. He is the cause of every hunt, every chase. And every time you stumble through the forest, weak in the knees from the exhaustion, waiting for him to lunge at you in any direction. It’s all his fault. He knows that.
He has himself to blame for his sadistic nature.
The whimpers you're letting out which eventually turns to sobs transforming into coughs that would not stop. He hates it. He wants it all to stop, for you to stop trying to leave him. He lets out I'm sorry, forgive me, but you won’t, not right now. Not whilst you’re suffering, when he could have put an end to this game.
He always overestimates himself. And now he has to deal with the consequences. And he would. Nurse you back to health, not leaving your side, feeding you till you get sick of him.
He draws you closer till your face has settled above his chest. You tell him, I hate you. I hate you so much, but you don’t. He knows you don’t. Not from the way you’re gripping his corduroy jacket, afraid he’d leave you after you had disobeyed him in every way you could. For all the times you’d push him away for who he was.
You want him near you. Always near you. To hold you even when he knew no bounds. Even when he spilled the blood of the innocent.
You would never admit it, but you relished in the way he orbited you. It was pitiful how much importance he placed upon you and how much he cherished your company. The change from your old life to your current position was huge.
And at times when you lay in your bed at night, the last thoughts of the day seeping out into the open. You would admit to yourself that you are grateful. Grateful for a man like him that would do anything for you, to you.
And in the end, you needed him as much as he needed you.
thank you for reading! any feedback is appreciated.
