#knives out oneshot

[intrepidacious]

97 with Ran, if you'd please 😌💕

occupy my brain

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: ransom being his usual self should be warning enough. implied smut. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: 97. passionately making-out against a wall

a/n: i'm not gonna lie, posting this kind of hurts for obvious reasons but i don't want to sit on the prompt forever either because it's simply too good for that. this is the part one of come on down that i was talking about.

Death had always been a passion of yours, but you’d never fantasized about it quite as vividly as you had over the past couple of weeks.

One might have thought it came with the profession, but no.

It felt truly unfair that the texts you were studying told you exactly what poisons were most likely undetectable in the average blood test, how they were to be administered, how long your victim would suffer before his inevitable demise, eyes bulging as he struggled to take another labored breath …

Instead, he let out another annoyed sigh and you rolled your eyes.

You’d been going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole for the better part of the evening and he hadn’t even opened his damn laptop.

When you first got the job as Harlan Thrombey’s research assistant, you’d been ecstatic. You’d applied for it without ever expecting a call back—after all, he was one of the most prolific writers of crime fiction alive while you barely made it into your grad program. Sure, knowledge of forensic science was somewhat of a prerequisite to any self-respecting mystery writer, but still. You were sure there were hundreds of fretting English majors begging for the opportunity, and in the end, it fell to you.

Of course, your excitement was soon to be nipped in the bud when you met the other research assistant, who you would be working closely with over the entirety of the summer: Harlan’s very own grandson, Ransom Drysdale.

In the beginning, you tried. You really tried. But there was nothing to be done.

He was an asshole who seemed to be under the assumption that if he pressed just the right buttons, all the actual work would get done by you and simply fall into his lap at the end of the day; just the way it’d probably been all his life.

And because the first couple of times, you were playing nice and letting him get away with it, you were now stuck in this nightmare of a position. Sat on the couch in his large and strangely empty living room on a Friday night, daydreaming about extremely potent poisons.

Ransom sighed loudly again and your eyes snapped to him. He was still draped across his armchair, feet dangling off the armrest, an extremely bored expression on his stupidly handsome face.

The fact that, despite his horrible attitude, his features still had that effect on you made your blood boil even more.

"You know, if you actually did the work we agreed on, you probably wouldn’t have to sigh every five seconds," you said sharply.

An easy smirk appeared on his lips. "How else am I gonna get your attention?"

"How about by being less of a pain in my ass?"

Ransom’s eyes dipped down for a moment, only to return to yours with an amused glimmer you didn’t care for. His grin widened. "Where’s the fun in that?"

"This isn’t about fun, Ransom. This is my job. You know what that means?" Poisons and choking. "It means that certain things are expected of you."

He didn’t look particularly impressed. "Like what?"

"Like, I don’t know, research? Doing what’s asked of you instead of just being a prick?"

He snorted. "There’s just so many better ways we could spend our time," he drawled, in a tone that you could dissect all too easily.

Unbelievable.

"Keep dreaming," you muttered through clenched teeth, ignoring the way your heart twisted.

He was an asshole. You dealt with enough of those in your labs, and you made a point of not delegating any more brainpower to their presence than was necessary to get through long evenings. It was as easy as that.

Then again, none of the lab guys were quite this infuriating.

Ransom’s gaze had started wandering again, slower this time, more deliberate. You could feel a tingle go down your spine.

"We’ll see," he finally said, his voice very low.

You had to leave.

You slammed your laptop shut with a lot more force than necessary.

"You know what?" You grabbed your bag off the floor resolutely. "It’s late and I still have a lot of stuff to get done before I talk to your grandfather tomorrow, and you’re no help at all, so I’ll just get going."

He shook his head, the self-satisfied grin still not budging; for some reason, that only bugged you more. You were already half-way to the door when you heard him murmur, "Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine."

And that was it.

Your bag dropped to the floor with a resolute thunk as you turned to glare at him. "You know what, Drysdale? I don’t know why I bother with you anymore. I should just tell Harlan that you’re a slacker."

Something flickered in Ransom’s eyes, but it vanished almost as instantly as it came. "He already thinks that anyway," he said dryly, finally getting out of his damn chair to face you. "And you wouldn’t."

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"Because …" he said, taking a measured step closer. "Then you wouldn’t have an excuse to come to my doorstep anymore."

A slightly manic laugh bubbled up in your chest, jumbling your heartbeat on its way up. "Are you kidding me? I would love to never have to see you again."

Ransom tilted his head. "You’re a terrible liar." He took another step.

"What are you doing?"

You wanted to move backwards, away from him, but your feet seemed to be firmly rooted to the ground. He was close enough to touch now, and you balled your hands into fists.

Of course, he noticed. His grin morphed into something almost wicked.

"How long," he said, his voice even lower now, "are you gonna keep pretending there’s nothing between us?"

You couldn’t breathe. Otherwise, you might’ve smelled the cologne on his shirt and any last coherent thought would’ve left your body. You already found it impossible to look away from his eyes.

"There’s no us here," you said.

"Maybe you should leave, then," he answered, sounding despicably level-headed. "You know where the door is."

"I am."

Neither of you moved. The amused spark in his eye felt close enough to ignite something.

"Or," he continued, the distance between you small enough to count the freckles next to his eye, "you could stay. And we’ll see."

"Shut up," you snapped, but there was no conviction behind it. Your head was hammering.

"Or what?" he said smugly. "You’re gonna call me a prick again?"

He was too close.

"I said, shut up!"

"Make me."

It caught you off guard, that’s what it was.

You’re not sure what happened next, only that your shoulders were suddenly crashing against the wall and Ransom’s mouth was on yours, hungry, unforgiving, all-consuming.

And for some reason, instead of pushing him away, your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer, tugging on the dark strands until he groaned hoarsely against your lips. His hands were large on your waist, on your neck. Slowly, his knee wedged between your thighs, pulling you closer onto him until your hips started moving on their own accord.

He kissed you like he had something to prove, and fuck; maybe he had a point. You weren’t sure. You’d stopped thinking.

Ransom Drysdale was deadlier than any poison; and much more addictive.

thank you for reading 💛 if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications—and yes, there will be another part to this. eventually.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale oneshot #knives out fanfiction #knives out oneshot #occupy my brain #ren 🐝

[heliads]

I was just thinking of sort of a father-child dynamic? Like, he finds the gender-neutral Reader because they're a suspect in one of his murder cases (not the Thrombey case from the movie), and realizes that they're super smart and would make an amazing detective, but he finds out they don't have a home and decides to make them his ward-slash-apprentice? I dunno if you'd actually want to write that, but it's an idea I've had for a while and God knows your writing is ten times better than mine. 😅

i have an obsession with knives out

masterlist / part two

Benoit Blanc does not know how this is going to go down. He has his inklings, of course, a few thoughts and ideas scattered here and there like forgotten Easter Eggs the day after a hunt, but nothing certain yet. His brightly colored plastic pieces of leads have yet to guide him to anything truly worthwhile. 

That’s his favorite part of the entire process, if Benoit were feeling glib enough to put a name to it. Usually, he at least pretends to be somewhat unbiased. Too many investigators these days are in it for the money or fame. Not him, he claims. Of course, it’s not entirely certain that anyone will believe him, but the fact remains. 

No, if Benoit were in this line of work for anything, he’d have to say that it would be for the story. You can’t make this sort of stuff up anywhere, not in the most fantastic thrillers. No trade paperback could even dare to dream up the stories Benoit has seen. You could shell out a million bucks on dime a dozen fictions and still not even scratch the surface of all that Benoit has discovered by way of odd jobs and borrowed reports. 

That isn’t to say that Benoit is against the novel, of course. They certainly have their role in his life, sure as any other person or thing that happens to stumble into his path. Sometimes he thinks that he might have a little fun writing up a book or two based on his own experiences. Most of it would be classified, of course, but certainly he could ad lib enough to hook in a reader or two. 

This isn’t the point, of course. Perhaps that’s as good a sign as any that Benoit’s attempts at literary handicrafts would end in less than mediocre sales. His habits of running headlong from one tangent to the next, often barely connected in topic at all, could scare away even the most fervent readers. He’s had deputies tell him that much more than a few times, and even those less comfortable with chastising their coworkers settle for some raised eyebrows when the moment suits them best. 

Ah, so well then. No novels for him. Not even a particularly lengthy memo if he’s in the mood for sparing the nearest police department from his musings. In the end, though, Benoit doesn’t necessarily need an audience, although he can’t deny that a good reception certainly lends itself to a good time whenever he can get a hold of one. 

For example, right now he’s got a case that’s shaping up nicely in terms of a final deliverance of a verdict. Benoit isn’t judge, jury, and executioner, of course, no matter what dots he connects the end decision will be made by someone other than him, but that doesn’t seem to stop everyone tied to a given case from flocking around him like his word is gold. 

One of these multitudes in particular has been catching his eye for a while. Among the usual number of jilted in-laws and disgruntled passersby who’ve all been corralled into the scene of his latest crime, Benoit cannot help but notice someone who’s been standing on the outskirts of it all. This case is as far from insipid as any other, people cannot help but get themselves involved. Still, one witness seems immune to the waves of melodrama and perilous lies that seem to catch at the sleeves of everyone else here.

He has a problem with being interested in the wrong details. Technically, Benoit should be more invested in the fact that he is here to investigate the death of a wealthy family matriarch, not some kid on the fringe of the whole ordeal, yet the roles are flipped regardless in his head. 

Besides, it’s not like anyone truly needs to worry. Benoit is already twenty percent sure that the killer was the gardener, there were muddy footprints out in the mansion gazebo that look eerily similar to work boots. The mother of a prestigious family had ended up dead one night, drowned in an over chlorinated pool that removed all traces of DNA for the police to investigate. Although the gardener claimed to have been off work that day and thus unable to commit the crime, the prints exist nonetheless. 

Also, it makes no sense for the newly hired gardener to be so committed to his craft that they would be given the keys to the house within a day of submitting an application, yet have not a single callus on their hands. Benoit suspects the gardener to be a plant, likely at the wishes of a disgruntled uncle. Motives are still unclear as of yet, but he has a feeling that explanations will come up if he just pulls at the right string.

In the meantime, as Benoit waits for the house of cards that’s been so precariously built to come tumbling down at last, he peruses the finer details in the whole fiasco. There’s a kid mixed up in all of this, a neighbor down the block who refuses to supply the police with an address or phone number to call. They’re caught up in all of this because they spent time with the murdered matriarch almost on a daily basis. Reports have come in from multiple members of the family of always seeing the kid there whenever they went to visit the mansion.

It’s got Benoit confused, to say the least. He’s seen nurses frequenting the houses of lonely millionaires before, or greedy grandchildren hoping to score a few extra points by hanging around their soon-to-die relatives, but this is something different. There’s no blood connection between this kid and the victim, and so far as he can tell, they weren’t getting any money, either. No job, no expectations, just a home lent out like a library book, free of charge.

It makes no sense. All actions must have an explanation, yet he’s still waiting on this one. The kid is frustratingly hard to track down as well, and Benoit is forced to go about his days simply hoping that they’ll show up and he’ll have enough time to question them before his attention is pulled in another direction.

He gets his chance soon enough. The kid drops by in the morning out of necessity, and although they don’t seem like they’re going to be staying too long, Benoit still manages to snag them before they slip away.

“I’m going to take a lap around the grounds of the house,” he says as casually as he can, “I hear you’re here frequently, I wouldn’t mind a guide. If you’re willing, of course. I would hate to intrude on your personal time.”

The kid– Y/N L/N, he remembers reading in a brief police report that didn’t have much other information– stares at him for a moment, then nods at last. “Sure. I don’t have much else to do anyway.”

Sensing an opening, or perhaps an intentional lack thereof, Benoit presses on as they turn towards the gardens. “What do you mean? I would have thought that somebody your age would be in school. I know you’re required to be here for the proceedings of the investigation, but surely you would have to get to class at some point.”

Y/N shrugs their shoulders. “I mean, yeah, but school doesn’t start for another hour or so. Beside, I figure a murder mystery is somewhat more interesting than high school, yeah?”

Benoit chuckles. “I can’t say I disagree. That being said, you could be involved in more such mysteries if you finished your education. You have to give yourself all the tools possible if you wish to use them, you know? No good comes in building a house if you’ve only got a hammer and nails. It takes much more than that to make something worthwhile.”

Y/N gives him a sideways look. “Is this your way of saying that I’ve got a screw loose for thinking about skipping world history?”

Benoit snorts. “That would be something. Ha! Not intentional, I guarantee you. I have long since learned that it is best to avoid alienating potential suspects.”

Y/N folds their arms across their chest. “You think I did it, then? Am I a primary suspect?”

“Not in the slightest,” he chuckles, “If you did, you’d be a little more alarmed about me singling you out rather than just being afraid that I’d catch you for not having anywhere else to go after this.”

When Y/N’s steps freeze, Benoit knows his shot in the dark has landed, bulls eye and all.

He continues, sensing an advantage. “That is correct, is it not? The deceased gave you a key to her house because it was the best place for you to be when you weren’t at school. She never knew the full depth of it, of course, but she didn’t ask questions. That’s why you stayed.”

“That, and the conversation,” Y/N says through a forced grin. They sigh and give in at last. “Yes, it’s true. Mrs. Gillespie was kind to me. Kinder than I deserved. She didn’t know everything but she knew enough. Once she made it clear that I wasn’t intruding on her hospitality by coming over all the time, it became a habit.”

“And what are you going to do now that staying at the Gillespie residence is no longer an option?” Benoit asks carefully.

When Y/N is silent, he gets the feeling that he knows the answer. Through some situation or another, there is no secondary location lined up. That’s why Y/N has been coming to the crime scene alongside the other members of the family even though it’s clear that they’re not a real suspect. They simply have no other place to go.

It’s clear that the kid is uncomfortable, so Benoit switches the topic towards a discussion of the grounds. Evidently glad for safer subjects, Y/N loses a bit of their guarded edge, and soon enough begins to rattle off details of the mansion and its surrounding land that Benoit didn’t even know after in depth Googling. It is obvious that they have spent a good bit of time wandering the area, especially in the company of the late matriarch.

It is useful information, but Benoit can’t help turning his focus back to what had been said in the very beginning. Even after the case turns its last pages and settles into the storage of his memory, Benoit doesn’t think that he’ll be able to let this one go so easily. Once the handcuffs are snapped onto the wrists of the murderer, there’s still one soul mixed up in this that won’t have such a happy ending. Sometimes justice isn’t just catching killers, it’s making sure that those who are hurt by a crime receive what they deserve. That includes Y/N.

He isn’t sure how they’ll take it when he makes his offer. Benoit pulls Y/N aside on the final day of the investigation. Everyone is just there on protocol to wrap things up, but he needs to talk to them more than anyone else.

“Listen,” he says in the shadow of a quiet room, “I was thinking about what you said earlier. Our conversation on the grounds, that is.”

Judging by the shift in Y/N’s expression, they know exactly what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I’d like to extend a similar invitation as Mrs. Gillespie,” Benoit explains, “A ward of sorts, I think it could be best summed up.”

Y/N shakes their head quickly. “I don’t want your pity.”

“This isn’t pity,” Benoit promises, “I’ve been watching you just as closely as our red herrings and killers, you know. I’m fairly sure that you figured out this whole case even before I did. Instincts like yours don’t come around all that often. Maybe you won’t be interested in my sort of murder mysteries in five years, or even two, but I’d like your insights while you’re still invested.”

Y/N stays silent for a moment, and just when he’s starting to think that the whole thing will be for naught, they dare to speak again. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Benoit declares, and at last a slow smile breaks across Y/N’s face.

“Alright, then,” they say, “I think I’d like that a lot. You know, I never thought much about actually becoming a detective. Usually my investigative exploits were limited to books, you know? Encyclopedia Brown and all that.”

“Let’s make it real, then,” Benoit offers, “I happen to know a few cases in need of solving over the next few months.”

He solemnly extends a hand, and after a second, Y/N shakes it, their face just as serene. They break eventually, twin smiles crashing through even the most severe of expressions. Just like that, Benoit has a feeling that his investigations are going to be all the better. Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes on a case that’s haunted you for a while. The problems to come his way, the challenges to be set before him, they will still be just as difficult as before, if not more so. It’s a good thing, though, that he’s got an apprentice by his side to help him sort things out.

Yes, he has a feeling that they’re going to do just fine.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

knives out tag list: empty for now!

#benoit blanc #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc oneshot #platonic benoit blanc #knives out #knives out imagines #knives out x reader #knives out oneshot #knives out benoit blanc #knives out benoit blank imagines #knives out benoit blanc x reader #knives out benoit blanc oneshot

[cevansbaby-dove]

Only nice to my girl. Ransom X Reader

A/N: i have never seen Knives out like at all so i this is all made up by me. I hope you like it @nicoline1998enilocin (She requested it)

You've been hearing Ransom run his mouth for ten minutes to Meg about some case. "Shut your trap meg you know nothing!!" She scoffs. "I am not as dumb as you Rans!! if the cops find you i hope they shoot you!" She stomps off and Ransom cruses a bit then hears you walk to him. "Rans?"

He looks at you with a softest eyes and he says. "How much did you hear sweetheart?" You shrug. "not much, i wasn't trying to listen in if that's what your thinking" He smiles and kisses your head. "Good."

You start to leave the room when he says. "Cupcake what's the rush?" You look over your shoulder. "You have work" He smiles. "I can do it while your here."

You turn and lean on the wall. "Okay, what did Meg mean the cops? they don't think you...killed someone?" He waves his hand. "nah don't worry yourself to sickness y/n"

You nod. "Just asking" He sighs. "You know if i had to keep my girl safe i'll do Any...thing"

You press your lips together. "even kill?"

"if need be" he says with a smile.

"Oh god rans please don't go that far" He stands up and walks over to you towering over you. "Darling..i told you i'd do anything to keep MY girl safe"

You blink. "Thank...thank you..i think" he kisses your forehead and says. "You worries darling if i get mad it's only at someone else, I couldn't be mad at my favorite girl"

You smile. "great to hear" you turn and walk out but he grabs your hand so softly. "what's the hurry darling?"

You look at him. "you have work to do and so do i, we can talk more later"

He nods. "Alright darling see you later"

You walk out of the office and walk into the living room and Meg says. "your boyfriend is a cold blooded killer and your going to stay with his ass!?"

You ball your hand into a fist and say. "Watch your next words VERY carefully" She smiles. "I'll be right Y/N and who knows, maybe you'll get married to that dipshit"

Ransom says. "Meg! Do Not talk to My girl like that!" You turn to see him bright red with anger. She scoffs. "I am telling her the fucking truth! you are a killer!"

"Meg that's more than enough!" She looks at you then at Ransom and says. "just don't come to me when you see him walk out of here in handcuffs"

taglist: @cutedisneygrl @nicoline1998enilocin @patzammit @armystay89 @k-slla

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x you #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out oneshot #ransom drysdale one shot

[asirensrage]

Say My Name - Ransom/OC Oneshot

Title: Say My Name

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Knives Out (Pre-Canon Events)

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex. Edging. Orgasm denial. Slight coercion.

Summary: She makes a mistake. Ransom changes their deal.

Notes: This came to being when @vixenofcourse asked for a story and I was listening to Mr. Brightside. It sort of got away from me hahaha. This is my first time writing Ransom. Unbeta-d like many of my smut oneshots.

It was only a kiss. 

That's it. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't anything more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye that went wrong. Thankfully her ride was already waiting for her and she could get in and go home without dealing with the teasing. At least not tonight.

She was bound to hear it tomorrow. In fact, she was surprised her phone wasn’t blowing up. Maybe it was. Did she ever take it off silent when she left work?

Whatever. She’d deal with it later. 

She thanked the driver and got out, heading for her building. She mentally went over the reactions she knew she was going to get. Elisha would make some cruel comment, out of jealousy as though she hadn’t been trying to hang off of him for years. Michael would say something crude, but probably more towards Ransom than her. Something about not coming with her. Others would demand information.  

The problem was Ransom himself. He was an asshole of epic proportions and despite their agreement, he was the one most likely to tease her about this, not kindly either. Ransom was malicious to everyone, always amused as though he was in on a joke no one else was. Of course, now she was…though she wasn’t sure it counted. They made a deal but this was the first trial. She was already regretting it.

It was bad enough that he kept making cracks and using the most ridiculous lines. How none of their friends had realized he was quoting romance movies astounded her. It was so obvious. Maybe that was the problem with the rich. They took things at face value. Then again, maybe not. Maybe they were all just surprised that Ransom claimed they were dating. Ransom didn’t date. Neither did she. So the two of them together must have been a sight. 

She pressed the button for the elevator and got on, pressing for her floor. She leaned back against the wall. She just wanted this night to be over. She wanted everyone to forget it ever happened but her chances of that were slim. Technically she shouldn’t. This would only help sell their relationship. The doors stopped and opened again before they managed to fully close. She wasn’t expecting Ransom to be standing on the other side. He stepped into the elevator and stared at her for a moment. 

“You really thought you could run after that?”

She sighed. “What? Did true love’s kiss break the spell that turned you into an asshole? Oh wait,” she gave him a pointed look. “It didn’t.”

He smirked. “You think you’re my true love?”

“You wish I was,” she replied. The doors opened and she moved past him. Ransom followed. “Weren’t you the one saying I had you at hello?” 

He grinned at that. She didn’t even have to look at him to know it. “I can’t have any fun?”

“I didn’t take you for someone who watched romcoms.”

“I had an ex,” he shrugged. He leaned on the wall next to her door. “It’s not my fault our friends are idiots.” 

She turned towards him. “Why are you here, Ransom?” 

He shifted slightly closer, giving her a small grin. “Maybe I came to finish what you started.”

“I didn’t start anything. You’re the one who moved.”

“We’re supposed to be in a relationship, you think I don’t kiss the girls I date?”

“You don’t date.”

“Guess I do now.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Go home.” 

“No.” His eyes roamed across her body for a second. “Let me in.”

She felt like tucking her keys back into her purse just to make sure he didn’t take them and open her door for her. He was absolutely the type to shove himself in whether he was wanted or not. “No,” she parroted back to him. 

His grin dropped. “You will.” He seemed content to stay there, leaning against the wall. She didn’t doubt that he was waiting though. Ransom was never the type to take rejection or even had any patience. 

“Ransom, our deal was that we’d fake being a couple for a few get-togethers, go to that event at your Club and get my family off of my back. That doesn’t include spending time with you away from it.” 

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re right.” He pushed himself off of the wall and faced her. Despite how much of an asshole he was, and how many people hated him, she never had a problem with Ransom. She didn’t know him well, but she didn’t stick around to deal with his shit either. 

He stepped closer and she moved back automatically. Her back hit the door. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” 

“Should I be?” She asked, looking up at him. 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved quickly, leaning down and cupping the back of her head as his mouth met hers. He pushed her back against the door, kissing her hard. He bit at her lip until she opened her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. Her arm went around his neck without thinking, trying to pull him closer. 

He broke the kiss and smirked as she tried to regain her breath. “Open the door.”  

“No,” she breathed. 

He kissed her again. His hand moved, going to the back of her neck and his thumb pressed against her throat. Just enough for her to feel it. “Open it.” 

She didn’t answer. She turned her face away from him, trying to regain her thoughts. Ransom knew what he was doing. He knew how to kiss. 

“Let me in,” he said, brushing his mouth by her ear. “Come on, sweetheart. You know I’ll make it good.”

She dug her hand into his hair and gripped it, pulling him back. “You tell that to all your lovers?” 

He pressed his hips into hers, moving the hand not on her neck lower to her ass. “Only the ones worth it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. It was his sheer arrogance. She let go, putting her hands on his chest. He felt solid, especially as he refused to shift back away from her. “Ransom, move.”

“No.” He pressed his lips against her neck, kissing the skin and tilting her head a little more to gain more access. She couldn’t help but lean into it. “You’re gonna open the door and we’re gonna fuck.” 

“Making out in my hall doesn’t mean I’m gonna sleep with you.”

“Sure, baby, but the way you’re kissing me, opening yourself up, does. So let me in and I’ll make it worth it.” 

“This isn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m altering the deal. Pray, I don’t alter it any further.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You motherfucker. Did you just quote Darth Vader to me?”  

“Let’s leave my mother out of this.” He kissed her again. “Open the door, sweetheart.” 

She considered her options. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t get anything out of it. She could tell him to leave, that the deal was off or she could let him in, hope he could get her off and if it all went south, turn the tables on him. It was easy for a man to call a woman a slut. They never expected the woman to agree and then tell everyone they were terrible in bed. Someone would believe it, if only to feel better about how much of an ass Ransom was. 

“Ugh, fine,” she shoved him back and turned to face the door. Ransom’s hands went to her hips, pressing himself against her back. 

“Knew you’d see it my way.” 

“Ransom, save your mouth for something useful before I change my mind.” She rolled her eyes and dug out her keys, trying to ignore the way his hands moved under her shirt. It took a few seconds, especially when Ransom’s mouth found her neck again before she managed to open the door. He ushered her in, kicking the door closed behind him. He paused as she moved to put down her purse and keys before bending to take off her heels. 

“This place is a dump.”

“We can’t all live in five-star hotels and million-dollar mansions.” She tucked her shoes against the wall and made her way to the bedroom, hoping he’d follow. It was best to find out if he actually lived up to his reputation sooner rather than later. Either way, she’d kick him out when she got tired of him. 

His hands went to her waist, turning her to face him again. Ransom pulled at her shirt, tugging it up over her head. He threw it aside, seeming to drink the sight of her in. His hands went to her waist, thumbs brushing at the underside of her bra. 

She pulled down the straps before reaching back and unclipping it. He pulled it off of her, letting it fall to the ground. He cupped one of her breasts, squeezing it lightly before he kissed her again. 

She dug her hand into his hair. “Come on, Ransom,” she murmured against his lips. “Make this worth it.” 

He bent down slightly, one arm moving around her waist as he tightened his grip and lifted. He pressed her against the wall of her bedroom, shifting slightly to move an arm under her leg and lift her higher. She clung to his shoulder, wrapping a leg around him to try to hold herself up and make sure he wasn’t going to drop her. 

His mouth went to her chest, lips enclosing a nipple. Her head fell back against the wall, lost in the feeling of being weightless and having his tongue press flat before he sucked. He alternated between breasts before finally holding on to her tightly and moving away from the wall. She clung to him tighter but he didn’t let go, not until he was standing over her bed. He didn’t even drop her, just showcased his strength by lowering her slowly. The asshole. 

She sat up slightly, feeling as though she had been struck by lighting just from the initial attention. Not that she’d ever admit it. She watched as he pulled off the sweater and subsequent Henley he was wearing. He went to undo his jeans and looked at her. 

“Take off your pants,” he nodded towards her. She was tempted to say no. Just because. That would defeat the point though. She unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down, shimmying on the bed. Ransom stepped out of his pants that pooled at his feet and grabbed the end of her jeans and pulled, helping to yank them off. She almost went sliding across the bed towards him with them. 

He leaned over her, hands sliding up her thighs as he settled between her legs. His lips met hers, in a kiss that felt as though it was going to bruise. His mouth moved, trailing a path that felt like it left electricity in its wake. His hands moved from rolling her nipples between his fingers to squeezing her ass. It was as though he couldn’t get enough like he knew she was going to kick him out after this. 

He kissed her stomach before going lower, opening her legs wider and holding her in place with his hands on her thighs again. It felt like he was going to devour her. As self-centred as the man was, he knew exactly how to use his mouth and fingers. Every time she got close, as the pressure threatened to break, he’d slow down or pull back. She was going to kill him. 

He kept her in place as she squirmed, trying to gain more. 

“I swear to God,” she panted, trying to focus. He was trying to make her a mewling mess and she refused to let him torture her further. “Stop fucking around.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he asked, smirking at her. “You want to come, sweetheart? Beg me.”

“Fuck you.”

He ignored her, going back to continue to eat her out and refusing to let her break. She dug her hands into the sheets, trying to keep from crying out as he pulled back again. She was so close. 

Ransom was watching her as she tried to breathe. He pressed his thumb against her clit and she couldn’t help but shudder, trying to arch into it. “You're so close, aren’t you, baby?”

“That’s not my fucking name,” she snapped. “I’m not one of your random lays. You know my name. Use it.” 

He grinned slightly at her. “Beg me first.”

She glared. “If you can’t do me the basic courtesy of using my name then we’re done here.  Make a choice Ransom. It’s really simple.  Use my name, get some orgasms and everybody’s happy. Don’t…then fuck you. Get out of my house.” 

He moved his thumb in circles and her head fell back. She just wanted more. She reached down, ready to help herself out if he wouldn’t. He grabbed her hand and pinned it down. “Not yet.” He moved his thumb and pressed his fingers into her again. They slid with ease. “I want to hear you beg, Hannah.” 

Well, he accepted her terms. It was only fair, right? Besides, if he kept edging her like this, she was going to go insane. She didn’t want to end up killing the stupid heir to whatever book dynasty he was from. Not before they saw their deal through anyway. 

He did something like curl his fingers and she finally broke. “Please, please, please.”

“Please what?”

“If you don’t stop fucking around, you won’t have to worry about an inheritance because I’ll make sure you predecease your grandpa!  Give me my orgasms. Now.” She looked him dead in the eye as she reached down, pinched his nipple and twisted.

He blinked in shock and laughed slightly, hectic colour rose from his chest to his cheeks. “Like seeing you like this, but since you asked so sweetly, Hannah. Come for me.” He pressed his thumb back against her clit while curling his fingers and she was thrown from the precipice. Her orgasm hit harder than ever. 

It took her a few moments to recover, moments Ransom used to kiss up her belly, briefly pausing at her breasts, then made his way to her lips before he aligned his cock and pushed into her. The stretch was a mix of slight pain and pleasure as it extended the orgasm she was coming back from. She wrapped an arm around him, holding him to her as he fixed her leg to rest on his hip. 

“Worth it?” he asks, smirking down at her. 

“Is one all you’re good for?” she challenged and tried to clench around him. He groaned into her neck before finally moving. 

Her neighbours were going to complain. She didn’t care though. Not when she was focused on the way this felt. She dug her nails into Ransom’s back and yanked his hair when he slowed down teasingly. He accepted the warning and tightened his grip as his pace increased. She was half aware of him saying something but she didn't listen. The pressure built up again too fast. She was still too sensitive, too aware of everything from his edging that she broke around him again. He leaned down to kiss her between gasps and she bit his lip sharply as he kept going. 

Ransom paused only to adjust his position, shifting one of her legs to rest as his shoulder. She didn’t even know she was that flexible. She barely registered the way his pace increased, too easily built up and broken again until he pressed against her, finding his own release in her. Fuck. 

He didn’t move right away, kissing her again until she nearly forgot what the problem was and got used to the feeling of him inside her. He eventually moved back when she tapped his shoulder sharply, pulling out and leaving her feeling surprisingly empty. It took her a few moments before she got up. Her legs nearly gave out on her. She heard him laugh behind her and ignored it, flipping him off as she walked. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom and threw a damp washcloth at Ransom. She climbed back into her bed. 

“You can go now.”  

He turned to face her, throwing the cloth he used towards her laundry basket. “That’s funny.”

“I’m serious.” 

“We’re not done,” he said. “Far from it.” 

“Don’t worry, Ransom. We still have our deal and you better be clean. If I catch something from you, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Worried about the wanna-be fiance?” he asked snidely. 

“Are you worried about your inheritance?” she shot back. He glared over at her and she simply smiled. 

“I have plans for that.” 

“Then go do them and leave me alone.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” 

Her eyes narrowed at the tone. “Don’t fuck around, Ransom.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Yes, you would but I’d make you regret it.” 

He smirked at her, “Careful now, people will say we’re in love.”

She reached over, grabbed a pillow…and threw it at his face. “You wish.”

taglist: @raith-way  @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @itscapokaybye

#smut oneshot #knives out fic #ransom drysdale x oc #ransom drysdale/oc #she gives as good as she gets #lol #ransom drysdale oneshot #knives out oneshot #knives out fanfiction

[eloquentreverie]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

author’s note: Well. I had this idea last year and it started out as very self indulgent fic that was originally going to just be a porn without a plot, that somehow turned into a lengthy 5k+ fic. Also I haven't written for Ransom in two years so please be kind.

pairing: ransom drysdale x mixed!rich girl! reader

warnings: featured tropes are: exes to lovers, childhood sweethearts, forced proximity, there was only one bed. angst, cheating, ransom being an asshole, soft! ransom!

summary: Y/N and Ransom's reunion ignites a spark of hope for a potential reconciliation, but the past still lingers between them.

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

She never liked high society gatherings. Endless chatter and clashed spoons against expensive china teacups were simply not her cup of tea. She knew that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and she didn't take it for granted. However, she also understood that it could be taken away from her just as quickly as it was given.

When Harlan passed away, Y/N was away at college, and she didn't fully process the news until she returned home. When she received an invitation to a High Tea party in Harlan's honor, deep down, she knew she had to go.

Harlan was more than a friend—he was like a family to her. He provided food, water, clothes, and a roof over her head when no one else would. Even though the parties bored Y/N, she knew that she owed it to Harlan to attend, and she felt guilty that she was so easily uninterested. She kept reminding herself, It's for a good cause, and you owe it to Harlan.

Y/N had been allowing her tea to go cold for quite some time now. As she raised the ceramic cup to her lips, she made the mistake of meeting her ex-boyfriend's cerulean gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, fear and excitement mingling in equal parts.

She spots a familiar face from across the room—one that she knows all too well.

Ransom stood from across the room, his arms crossed against his chest and a wicked grin plastered across his face as cerulean eyes bore into hers. She freezes for a split second, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. He shouldn't be here. How has no one else noticed him or at least greeted him at the door? A part of her begins to wonder if this is just a figment of her imagination—a product of sheer boredom from having to entertain pointless small talk with the older women at her table.

In what feels like mere seconds, Ransom is beckoning her over to him, index finger curled. Her mind is reeling, her heart hammering in her chest as she realizes that he's sure to make a scene if she refuses. She knows that he doesn't take rejection well. He's never been one to react well to being told no, or to anything getting in the way of him getting his way.

She slowly lowers her tea cup and saucer, her eyes still captivated by his. As she lowers her cup, it falls, pouring warm tea down the front of her dress. She gasps, just managing to catch the china cup before it hits the ground and shatters. When she stands from her seat, all eyes are on her. One of the ladies gives her a sympathetic glance and says, "Oh no. Why don't you get that all cleaned up, dear?"

Despite the discomfort of all the attention, she forces a small smile and makes her way across the room, sliding between the other tables in front of her. She finally makes her way across the room. "What are you doing here?" Y/N whispers to him, a hint of anger in her voice.

"What? No greeting? Not even a simple 'Hey, how are you?' I'm so happy to see you again." Ransom replies in a hushed, sarcastic tone, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"It's not nice to see you," she retorts, raising a brow and crossing her arms.

As he looks at the damp patch on her dress, she narrows her eyes. He gives her an impish look, and she feels the urge to grab him and demand answers. She knows it is not a coincidence that he showed up. But instead of reacting, she takes a deep breath and pushes past him. 

As she hurries into the bathroom, she grabs a few paper towels and dabs at the wet patch on her dress. She mentally curses herself for letting Ransom distract her. Her mother had gifted her the dress for the event. An event that was supposed to be about Harlan. She sighed, shaking her head. Y/N was still processing his death, even though it had been several weeks after his funeral.

Her thoughts quickly shift back to Ransom. How dare he think he could just waltz back into her life after years of not being around. As she fixed her dress, she tried to calm her racing heart and take deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn't let Ransom ruin the entirety of her day. She needed to stay strong and not let him get to her.

As the bathroom door creaks open, Y/N sees Ransom's reflection in the mirror, making her jaw clench in frustration. "So," he starts, walking over to her by the sink, "our connection is still so strong that you can't help but spill tea when you see me, huh?" His voice is teasing, as if he's enjoying watching her squirm. He knows he’s pushing her limits but, he’s missed her and can’t help but tease her about the incident now that they’re away from prying eyes.

Even though she knows she shouldn't give him the satisfaction, she can't help but feel a twinge of anger at his words. She turns to face him, trying not to let her emotions show on her face. It's hard to maintain a cool facade when all she wants to do is scream at him for his arrogance. She takes a deep breath and gathers herself. She won't let him win. She won't give him the satisfaction of seeing her react. She'll stay calm and collected, no matter what he says or does.

"Please don't flatter yourself. It's just a dress, and I'm used to dealing with spills," she snaps, turning back to the mirror. "And better yet, I'm used to dealing with men who don't respect boundaries." She seethes, her voice dripping with contempt. She hated how he could get under her skin so easily. So much for trying to stay calm. 

"Oh? So I'm just a man who doesn't respect your boundaries, eh?" he grins, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He watches her pat dry her dress, his taunting smile widening. "You know, I remember a time when you loved it when I invaded your space."

She ignores his gaze, now fixing her curls. "Yeah, well that was when I was young and foolish and it was before you broke your promise." Her voice is cold, her anger evident in every word.

She refuses to let Ransom win this argument, no matter how much he tries to provoke her. She's better than that, and she won't let him get the best of her. She tries to steady her breathing and focus on the task at hand, refusing to let him take up any more space in her head.

Ransom chuckles, shaking his head. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you still have feelings for me. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, even now.” His words pierce through her defenses, making her feel vulnerable. But she won’t let him control her, and she certainly won’t let him weaken her resolve.

Y/N finishes touching up her appearance. She straightens out her pink floral dress before turning to him. “I’m sure you would like that but, I have a boyfriend. And he’s..perfect. And ten times better than you.” She makes her way toward the door when Ransom grabs her wrist tightly. 

His grip was rough and firm. "Don't even think about comparing our relationship to whatever you have now. You and I had something real, something special," he growls, his voice low and threatening. He forcefully grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer to him as he leans in to whisper in her ear. "Don't you remember?" His breath on her skin sends shivers down her spine.

She can't deny how he's making her feel: confusion, anger, frustration, panic. But she still won't let him weaken her resolve. She's stubborn and would rather die than admit he's right. Her anger boils up again, coursing through her veins. "Ransom, let me go!" She grits through her teeth, her eyes glancing around nervously as she hears footsteps outside the bathroom door.

As soon as they hear the knob to the bathroom door turning, Ransom instinctively grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the bathroom stall. Y/N's heart beats faster at the fact that she's this close to him, his chest an inch away from hers.

She notices his soft, expensive black suit, his hair perfectly pulled back. His cologne, sharp and intense, instantly invades her nostrils like the biting cold of winter wind. He raises an index finger to his lips, cautioning her to stay quiet.

She rolls her eyes and looks away, hoping they won't get caught. She can't afford to be seen by the other ladies, who would surely spread the rumor around town. Holding her breath, she peeks through the crack in the bathroom stall door as the older ladies, dressed in matching pastel silk dresses and sparkling pearl earrings, gather by the sink. The ladies all look so prim and proper, each one talking softly in a hushed tone like they are in church. Y/N feels like she is going to choke on her breath, but she keeps silent.

"That's Mrs. Wellington. If we keep our voices low, she won't even hear us," Ransom whispers, his gaze piercing through her soul. His knuckles trail down her arm, and goosebumps ghost over her skin. "Does that boyfriend know how to touch you? Does he know how to kiss you?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, his tone husky. He’s testing her. He knows she can’t make a scene unless she wants to risk getting caught. He’s got her cornered and he enjoys it immensely. 

His words pierce her heart like a dagger, rekindling the pain and emotions Ransom once caused. At this moment, her resolve wavers, and for a moment, she struggles to maintain the anger she felt only moments before. She turns to face him, her eyes locked on his. Her voice is determined as she speaks, but there's an undercurrent of sadness in her words.

"I'm better off without you."

She knows it's a lie, but she says it with such conviction as if she's trying to convince herself as much as him. But she can’t deny that she's not ready to let him go, despite all the pain he's caused. She still holds out hope that things will work out between them, even though she knows it's a naive wish.

The air in the room feels thick with tension. Ransom leans back, putting his large hand on her shoulder. She thinks for a moment that he believes her. Suddenly, they both hear the clicking of heels as Mrs. Wellington, the head of the group, dressed in a bright teal silk dress, walks by with the other women. Their coiffed hair forms perfect crowns upon their heads as they exit the bathroom. 

She dashes towards the door, but she feels Ransom grab her wrist again. His annoyance is evident in his voice as he questions her. "Do you really think you can lie to me after all these years?" He asks. "I just need to know that you feel the same way about him as you used to feel about me."

Y/N looks at Ransom, searching for sincerity in his eyes, and she finds it. She can't bring herself to lie about loving her boyfriend. Or the fact that she’s hurt him deeply, the pain evident in the way he’s looking at her. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She's speechless. Tears start to flood her eyes, and she shakes her head, whispering, "I can't... I can't do this."

With that, she pulls herself away from Ransom’s grasp and rushes out of the bathroom, leaving him behind.

One week later,

Linda Drysdale had invited Y/N and her mother to Harlan's old house. They hadn't seen her since she had left for college, and part of her was excited to see them. But another part of her felt nervous. She still hadn't gotten over what had happened between her and Ransom, an event that had been replaying in her mind like a broken record.

Ransom was like a phantom, with him invading her mind even more than before. She knew there was a chance that he'd be there, as it was his family's house. Just the thought of having to deal with him made her stomach churn.

The ride over to Harlan's estate was quick, with Y/N trying her best to act fine. But despite her efforts, she couldn't help but feel her mother's concerned gaze. When her mom touched her shoulder and asked her if she was okay, she forced a smile on her lips and said she was fine. But she was far from it.

When they parked in the driveway and stepped out of the car, Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door with her mother beside her. Linda answered the door and greeted them with a hug, putting her at ease. “Oh, I'm so happy you guys could make it,” she beamed as she pulled them both into her embrace. “And look at you,” she said, taking a good look at Y/N. “You look so grown-up! Come in, dinner is almost ready.” Linda stepped aside and let them walk inside.

As they walked past the foyer, Y/N noticed that the house was just how she remembered it. The living room was expansive, smelling as if Harlan had still been alive there. The aromas of the musty bookshelves, tobacco smoke from his old pipe, and the woodsy scent from the handmade furniture all came together to create a unique and nostalgic fragrance.

For a moment, she felt at ease until Linda called out from the kitchen. "Ransom! Come down here, dinner is ready!" Her heart dropped in her chest as she heard the floorboards creak above her, followed by the sight of Ransom descending the stairs.

He gave her a smug smile, seeing the look of shock on her face."What? You didn't think I'd ditch my own family's dinner party, did you?" he asked, his tone playful but with a hint of triumph.

She was left speechless as Ransom walked into the dining room, her shock almost enough to leave her unable to move. But she recovered quickly and followed him into the room, surprised to see that everyone had already taken their seats. Linda sat with her mother on one side of the table, and Richard was at the head of the table, leaving Y/N to sit between her mother and Ransom.

Feeling her heart pounding, she forced a nervous smile and took her seat next to Ransom, determined not to let her fear show on her face. Throughout the course of the meal, she felt his gaze linger on her every so often. But she kept her true feelings hidden beneath a forced smile.

Moments after dinner ended, Linda began to cry. Richard leaned over the table, holding her hands and asking, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about Harlan and how happy he would have been to see us all together. He adored the two of you so much." Linda replied, wiping her tears and nodding at Y/N and Ransom.

Y/N offered Linda a grateful smile, transported back to the times she had spent at Harlan's country estate. As she sat there, wrapped up in memories and emotions, she felt her heart ache.

Eight years ago. 

Y/N and Ransom laughed as they ran down the halls of Harlan’s country estate. She suddenly darted into one of the studies, jumping onto the desk in the middle of the room. Ransom sauntered over to her.

"Bad move," he said as he approached, his eyes full of mirth. She smirked and shrugged, feeling his hands grip her chin. His thumb grazed over the soft skin of her jawline. He was now only an inch away from her. His arms caged her in, with both of his hands resting on the desk on either side of her hips.

"I missed you today," Ransom whispered, looking down at her lips. A playful glint shone in his eyes as he drew her face closer to his own, their lips almost touching. Her heart raced, knowing that he was just waiting for her to make the first move.

"I've caught you now," He said, his voice low and mischievous. "What's my prize?"

Y/N blushed, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath. "You can have...anything you want," she gazed up at him with her eyes, trying to not make it obvious that she was feeling nervous. Ransom's smirk widened, and he leaned in again, moving his lips close to her ear, a low murmur filled the air. "Anything I want, huh?" he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. Her body tensed up, not sure how she should react to his words.

She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts as she heard the sound of dishes being cleared by the butler. Richard stretched and looked out the window. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, shaking his head as he took in the sight of the heavy rain outside. Linda's eyes widened at the sight of the storm. "Oh no.  We can't let you leave in that kind of weather," Linda said. "You can stay the night. We have plenty of room, you know that."

Her mother stood up from the table. "I appreciate it, Linda, but I don't want to impose. I know you're still grieving."

"Don't be ridiculous! We insist. It wouldn't be right if we left you to brave the storm," She insisted.

Y/N's heart raced at the thought of spending the night with Ransom. As she followed her mother into the living room, she felt a mix of anxiousness and excitement. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of the storm raging outside the windows. She knew it wouldn't be easy to sleep in the same room as Ransom, especially with their history. But the thought of being close to him again, even if it was just for one night, made her stomach flutter with anticipation.

The storm seemed to mirror the tension between her and Ransom, each drop of rain a symbol of the emotions that threatened to overflow and burst, just like the storm. The sound of the rain against the windows created a haunting ambiance in the room, adding to the awkwardness of the conversation.

As Linda and Richard joined them, her dread only intensified. She tried to hide her discomfort but she could feel the tension building like the storm outside. She wished they would leave before things got any worse.

"Your mother can take the guest bedroom," Linda said. "And, Y/N, we don't have another empty room here. You and Ransom will have to share a room. I'm not ready to clean out Harlan's room just yet." Her tone was melancholic as she spoke as if she didn't want to burden Y/N with her request. Y/N's guilt grew with every passing moment, knowing she had no choice but to comply with the request.

Ransom tried to suppress a grin, which only made the situation worse. She felt as though the floor was rising and falling beneath her, the weight of the situation crushing her like a ton of bricks. Her thoughts raced with dread, wondering how she could possibly share a room with her ex and still keep her sanity.

As everyone went to their assigned bedrooms, Y/N stood there, contemplating her options. Sleeping on the couch in the living room wouldn't be a good idea since she would have to explain herself, but sleeping with Ransom was even worse.

She knew she wouldn't get any rest, no matter what she did. "Shall we?" Ransom asked, the smirk on his face growing wider. She let out a heavy sigh and shoved past him up the stairs, his presence behind her like a dark shadow.

The bedroom was lavish, with a black, modern desk filled with papers and pens, a tall wooden bookshelf, a spacious walk-in bathroom, and a king-sized bed with black, modern sheets and a leather ottoman at the end. It was a far cry from her simple bedroom back home, and she felt out of place as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Ransom followed, sitting down next to her, and reached over to tuck a strand of her hair that had fallen in her face. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her body as his fingers grazed her skin. They sat there in silence, the intensity between them palpable. Y/N could feel her heart racing, knowing this was not how she wanted her visit back home to go. As she looked around the room, she couldn't help but feel uneasy and uncomfortable in the situation.

Y/N shrugged Ransom's hand away and got up from the bed, crossing her arms against her chest. She took a deep breath before speaking, determined to make her boundaries clear. "Okay, let's get something straight," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto Ransom's. "We are not sleeping in the same bed! Absolutely not!" 

To her surprise, Ransom let out a light chuckle and his arrogant smirk reappeared on his smug face, making her heart race with a mix of irritation and attraction. She tried to ignore it, reminding herself that this situation was temporary and that she can make it through this. "And where would you have me sleep?" Ransom asked, a mocking tone in his voice, making her stomach knot with anger. 

She shook her head with frustration, refusing to let him get under her skin. Despite her desire to see him suffer, she knew it was best to keep her emotions in check. "I don't know, but definitely not in the same bed as me," she replied, feeling the awkwardness in the room mounting with each word.

Ransom's eyebrows raised, and for a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt, knowing she was pushing him away. She took a step back, trying to distance herself from him, and repeated her boundaries with more force. "I don't care," she repeated, her voice getting louder with each word. "I'm not sharing a bed with you." 

His smile faded, and his expression grew serious as he realized Y/N was not going to change her mind. "Fine," he said, his tone low but not unkind. He turned to the couch and sat down, letting out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

Another wave of guilt washed over her at the sight of him sitting there, alone on the couch. Maybe she had been a little too harsh. But she reminded herself that she had set her boundaries, and sticking to them was important. She stood up and made her way over to the couch, sitting down next to him, and nervously fumbled with her fingers.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said, keeping her voice low. "I know this is a weird situation, but I need to stick to my boundaries. I'll take the couch, and you can have the bed, okay?"

He chuckled softly and shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Y/N, we're both adults," he said with a small grin, his eyes meeting hers. "What's the big deal with us sharing a bed for one night?"

Despite his light tone, Y/N couldn't help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over her. A part of her wanted to trust Ransom and let down the walls she built up, but another part of her reminded her to keep her guard up. Reluctantly, she shook her head again. "I'm just not comfortable with it," she said softly. "I'll be fine on the couch."

Ransom nodded slowly, acknowledging her decision, but she couldn't help but feel the weight of his disappointment. Without another word, he stood up and grabbed his pajamas before disappearing into the bathroom with a small sigh.

After a few moments, he stepped out of the bathroom, only wearing his gray pajama pants. She fought the urge to lower her gaze, her eyes wanting nothing more than to linger on his well-toned chest for a moment. "Do you want to change?" he asked, holding his clothes in his arms. Y/N hesitated, trying not to let her emotions show on her face. "Nope, I'm fine in these clothes," she lied, looking down at the black midi dress she was wearing.

He threw his clothes on the end of the ottoman, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh come on! Will you stop acting like that?" he said, teasingly. "I swear, you look like I'm about to take away your virtue or something." Y/N couldn't help but laugh, feeling some of the tension leave her body, realizing that she had been holding her breath this whole time.

He was right. She was being childish, refusing to change into more comfortable clothes. They were both adults. They could both sleep in the same room without giving in to their desires. Right? "Sorry Ransom, but I think you stole my virtue away from me a long time ago." She teased, cracking a small smile. "Fine. Do you have anything I could borrow for the night?"

"Of course," Ransom said, seeming to relax a bit. It was the first time in a while that Y/N hadn't looked like she wanted to punch him in the face, and he was pleased that she seemed to be opening up to him more. Deep down, he hoped that maybe they could get back to how things used to be. He walked over to his dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

"Here you go," he said, handing her his clothes. Y/N smiled again, but this time it was genuine, compared to the forced and angry ones he had seen in the past. She whispered a soft, "Thank you" before walking towards the bathroom to get changed.

He felt a certain urgency to follow her into the bathroom and kiss her and wrap his arms around her. To feel her body pressed against his. But he knew it wasn’t the right time. Another sigh escaped his lips as he turned around, beginning to pull the covers down and crawl into bed.

–

A sudden crackling sound woke Y/N and Ransom in the middle of the night. The sound of thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, accompanied by flashes of lightning that lit up the room. The power went out soon after, leaving the room dark except for the moonlight sneaking in through the windows.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, feeling a tinge of fear rising within her. "Ransom?" she asked, her voice a slight shake.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, sounding irritated but not at her. He tried flipping the switch, but it was dead. "I think the storm cut the power out," he said, sounding annoyed but not directing it at her.

Y/N let out a heavy sigh. "Great," she grumbled. She pulled the blanket up closer to her chest, but it did little to add warmth. The cold quickly filled the room, and a chill slowly crept through the entire house. She could make out the shape of Ransom's face despite the darkness, thanks to the moonlight creeping through the window.

Despite the circumstances, Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as she looked at him. She quickly suppressed the feeling, reminding herself of their current situation. Staying safe and warm was her top priority, not her feelings for Ransom.

There were a few moments of silence, and Y/N started to shiver under the weighted blanket, her teeth chattering as she tried to bury herself deeper under the covers. Ransom broke the silence, his voice low and gentle. "Y/N, the power's out and it's going to be a long night. We might as well keep each other warm," he said.

His words were comforting, but she hesitated for a moment. As much as she craved the warmth of his body, she couldn't bring herself to face him. Her emotions were already running high, and she didn't trust herself to keep them in check.

Finally, she mustered up the courage to stand up from the couch and crawl into bed with him. She shifted, her back facing Ransom's chest. She snuggled up close to him, his body heat a welcome comfort in the otherwise cold room.

As she relaxed into him, she felt a small flutter of excitement in her chest, which she tried to suppress but it was futile. She let out a slow breath, trying to slow her racing heart. Ransom felt her shivering frame press against him as he pulled more of the covers up over the two of them.

He began rubbing her arms up and down, in an attempt to provide her with more warmth. "Does that feel better?" he whispered, his voice low and gentle. His lips curved up in a small smirk at the fact that he got to hold her in his arms again. Something he’d missed for the longest time. Despite not being able to see her face, he knew she was awake by the tense muscles in her body and the heavy breathing he could hear.

"Yeah. It feels nice." Y/N replied, her voice shaking a little from the cold. Ransom leaned closer to her ear, speaking in a low voice. "You know, you would probably get more warmth if you were facing me." There was a moment of hesitation, and then she finally replied. "I’m fine the way I am. Plus, you’re only saying that because you want me closer to you."

"Maybe," he chuckled softly, pulling her hair back from her face. For a moment, he brushed his fingers against her cheek, a gentle touch that she could barely feel through the blankets. "Or maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face." As Ransom's fingers continued to brush against her skin, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

She didn't know how to react to his small gesture of affection and sighed deeply, realizing that he wasn't going to let up. Reluctantly, she shifted onto her right side, looking away from him. "Is this better?" she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Ransom smiled softly, gently trailing his finger down toward her jaw. He knew that he shouldn't push her too much, but he couldn't help himself. He had a hard time controlling himself around her. Every time he looked at her, it reminded him of when they were together and happy. A part of him hated how they had grown apart.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I miss you, Y/N. I miss how close we were before." The words came out in a whisper, barely audible in the quiet room. But they hung in the air, heavy and full of emotion. "I never meant to hurt you that night. I was stupid and I felt like I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I…I didn’t want to hold you back."

Her breath hitched as he said those words. She knew deep down that there was no turning back now. The expression on his face was soft, and there was a tinge of remorse in his eyes. For a moment, he looked just like the boy she remembered all those years ago before they both headed off to college.

"I..." she hesitated, struggling to find the words. Then, with a deep breath, she uttered the words she had been wanting to say for so long. "Ransom, you were never holding me back. I would’ve followed you anywhere. You...you broke my heart..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Before she could say anything further, Ransom pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her waist. Their faces were so close together, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. It was a tempting sensation, one that made her heart race. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her right now, and she knew it.

“Don’t you think I know that? I regret that every damn day. It was the biggest mistake of my life,” Ransom whispered in her ear. His breath was hot on her temple as he spoke, and she could feel the tremors in his voice. It was clear that he was just as torn up about the situation as she was.

"Ransom," she murmured, pressing a hand to his bare chest. She knew where this was going and feared what she might do. Their connection had always seemed otherworldly - a drug that she had never been able to get enough of, even after they'd separated. He'd always been a source of temptation, a pull that she'd never been able to resist. She never loved anyone else quite like she did him.

He leaned his forehead against hers, a spark of desire in his eyes. "Tell me this feels wrong and I'll stop," he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction as he asked.

She sighed softly. She knew it was wrong, but the pull of temptation was too strong to resist. She couldn't force the words out - deep down, she wanted this too. And the way that he was looking at her right now - it made her heart race even faster and her belly twist with delicious uncertainty.

She closed the gap and kissed him passionately. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, even closer than before. He was stunned at first and then, without a moment's hesitation, he kissed her back. It was fierce and passionate, with a certain roughness that she had missed for so long. His hand cradled her neck as they kissed, a feeling that she never wanted to end.

A few minutes after they locked lips, she pulled away, leaving them both panting and trying to catch their breath. Even in the dimly lit room, she could still make out the familiar outline of Ransom's mischievous grin. "Just give me another chance to love you," Ransom whispered, his voice laced with sincerity and hope. "Give me another chance to show you the kind of love that you deserve. I promise I won't let you down again."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she listened to his words. It was something she had been hoping for, for the longest time, and now it was finally becoming a reality. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, she replied, "Ransom, losing you once was painful enough. I don't want to ever go through that again."

Y/N felt a sense of vulnerability wash over her as she spoke, but she pushed through it, determined to see this through. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him once more as their bodies intertwined beneath the sheets.

banner credit: @.saradika

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale oneshot #my writings #knives out

[fineprintedsunsets]

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

🎃 This Is For Haunted Hoedown Day 8! | My Haunted Hoedown Master-List 🎃

best friends-lovers au + "this fear you feel? it won't last."

Synopsis: Your heart has been broken, and your best friend Ransom has made it his mission to make you smile, with all your favorite things of course.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Throw on this ambiance and spend a day with Ransom as he attempts to cheer you up: tooth-rotting fluff. flirty friends. obvious friends with benefits. a cameo from all my favorite books. sweet!ransomdrysdale x nerd!reader. all the fall vibesss. like alot of fucking angst. Part 2 "We fell in love in October?" maybe?

Baby I'm A Project Lovin' Me's A Mistake.

“Hey sweetheart, How are you doing this morning?” You expected this. Your best friend called you every morning, asking about your plans, checking in, and seeing if you were alright. After, he hung up and went on with his day.

Ransom was like that.

But today, your only reply is a muffled sniffle. Your head is buried deep into your white pillow, both dry and wet tears staining the surface. “Sweetheart? You okay?”

“Yeaaaahhhh” You grog, putting the phone on speaker. You were in fact, not okay. Your boyfriend of 3 years decided to break up with you, he didn’t give a reason, but you're almost ninety percent sure it has to do with a girl you saw him flirting with weeks ago.

It was a red flag, but when you're in love you ignore them.

You wish you hadn’t.

“What happened?” Ransom asks urgently, the sound of his voice is comforting, to hear something then sniffing and silent sobs.

“Nothing, Ransom. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine, sweet girl.” You never knew how much you missed his little nicknames until this moment

“I am-”

“I'm coming over.” Ransom rushes out, and embarrassment fills your aching body. He has seen you like this a dozen times, always comforting you, but this time you felt so stupid, How could you not see the signs?

“Please, no-”

The line goes dead, and Ransom disconnects his end. All you can do is scream into your pillow.

🍂

“Shortcake, you have to get out of bed sometime today.” Ransom stands over top of you, his sunglasses hanging by his shirt collar, an expensive-looking jacket on.

“Mmph!” A pillow goes hurdling across the room, heading right for Ransom. Unfortunately, he catches it, launching it on the opposite side of your bed.

“Shortcake.” He says seriously, Ransom's eyes look over your crumbled frame, the blanket covering your half-naked body.

“Ransom. Please. I’m fine.”

“Why don’t I take you out, just you and me? How does that sound?” Your head perches up at his offer, seeing the smile blooming on his smooth features. “Yeah? You like that idea?”

Finally moving your head away from the pillow you’ve been face to face for the last three hours, you nod your head in agreement. Spending a day with your best friend is exactly what you need.

“Get dressed, Shortcake.” He laughs, snatching the blanket off your body, you screech as the cool air caresses your thighs. You throw the blanket in his face, running towards the opposite end of the room to your closet.

“Sneaky little-” You crack a little smile, Your mood is lightning just a bit, but it’s going to be hard to fill the hole your ex left, Ransom would make you forget, for the moment at least.

He would make sure of it.

🍂

The weather was beautiful, auburn colors swirled inside the tree’s leaves, yellows and oranges and red collided to make bursts of colors. It was magical.

Autumn had always been your favorite time of year, the Halloween music, the movies, the pumpkin spice lattes. Everything about this season was extraordinary. Ransom’s car matched the leaves, a light orange, its convertible roof folded down.

It allowed you to smell the Autumn wind, feeling it flow through your hair, wiping it around your face. Ransom fingers find the radio, switching it to the nearest station.

The acoustic version of Boris Pickett's “Monster Mash” blares through the station, and Ransom would be damned if he missed the smile that blooms on your face. Although a weak one, he would take all you had to offer.

“Go ahead, I won’t judge. Sing it, shortcake.” Ransom offers, tapping his fingers against the wheel to the beat, turning left on G.R Drive, heading for town. You shrink back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

Ransom keeps one hand on the wheel as his other presses into your jaw jokingly. You rear back, “Stop it.”

“Sing it then.” He bargains, his finger poking at your chest. Ransom wanted so desperately to see a true smile from you, even if it meant forcing you to sing Monster Mash.

“Fine! Stop poking me!” Your buck against his hand, telling Ransom to keep his eyes on the road as you tune into the music, listening to the lyrics.

“He did the monster mash.” You start quietly, twirling your fingers in your lap. Your hoodie is drawn over your knees. Ransom is trying very hard not to burst out laughing, he keeps one eye on you, watching your mouth sync with the lyrics, and one eye on the road, going straight for a place he knows you’ll love.

“From my laboratory in the castle east…” You started again, tapping your foot to the beat, the wind settling your nerves for the moment.

“To the master bedroom, where the vampires feast.” You pick up now, moving in tune with the beat, moving your hands, joking with your body, swaying your hips against the seat belt.

“Sing it, baby!” Ransom laughs, his face was practically red from holding in, and with it you join him, listening to the rest of the song play out.

What is with the fall and happy memories?

🍂

“The bookstore? The fucking bookstore!” You squeal excitedly, watching Ransom’s own features bloom in enjoyment, seeing your cheeks puff. The bookstore's front was decorated with paper leaves, stringing a banner across the glass windows.

Its exterior was black and gold, the perfect place for a sad girl. Books heal all wounds. Ransom’s already by the door, pulling his scar tighter as he holds the frame open for you, urging you in.

“As much as I love seeing you toggle, we have books to buy, sweet girl.”

“I love you, you know that?” You say playfully, although not exactly a lie. Ransom had always been like this, ever since you met in college.

“I love you too.”

Books. So many books. It took all your energy not to scream right there and then.

“Good morning!” An employee greets you both with a small smile, and you return it with glee, going straight to the new release stand, not even bothering to wait for Ransom.

Every book released in the past month was here, you wanted to get all of them. You circle around the table, seeing authors ranging from Nicolas Sparks to Ana Huang. A hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around. Ransom greets you with a smile, handing you a black basket.

“Go crazy, sweetheart.”

“Ransom…” Because he knew you were going to protest, you always do, he places a finger to your lips, cocking his lips in a grin. “I’d rather spend my money on my shortcake.”

Did you already say you love him?

Because you really do love him.

And you do exactly what Ransom tells you, you go crazy.

Your basket is almost filled to the brim. You had insisted on stopping at three books but Ransom wanted you to fill the whole basket. You wanted around now, taking in the spice scent of hair and the smell of freshly printed paper-backs.

It’s not until you see Ransom, a book in his hand, flipping through the pages, that you truly start to panic. The cover, although rather innocent looking, displayed woods, and the name “CREDENCE” sprawled over the cover.

You have never run faster in your life. You attempt to snatch the book out of his hands, surprising him with your speed, but he grips it nonetheless, laughing as you fail to stop him. Halting completely, you watch in terror as Ransom’s back faces you, blocking your sad attempt at receiving the book he begins to read…

Ransom's voice is extracted, dark and husky. “That’s it…Noah says in a strained voice…” Your thighs clench at his words, not because of Ransom in particular, but because you know exactly what scene he is reading.

Oh god.

“Ransom! Shut up-”

But he ignores you, continuing on.

“-Holding my face as he kisses my nose, and then my lips. Good girl”. Ransom doesn't stop despite your pleas, and the more he reads, the more your thighs clench, maybe it wasn’t the book or the scene, maybe it was-

“I feel his fingers slip under the waistband of my shorts, and he starts to pull them down.” He faces you now, reading the pages, his lips pursing to make his voice seem seductive. Ransom is doing it to piss you off, but you are far from it.

“I look at him, pleading” He looks up for dramatic effect, allowing you to hang onto his every word, “No.”

“Yes”.

“He pulls my shorts and panties-”

You snatch the book out of his hand, carefully trying not to crease the cover. “We're done, let’s go.”

“These are the types of books you read?” He whispers, clearly poking fun. He plops the book from your gripping hand, putting it back on its stand. You try to hide the blush forming on your cheeks, Your best friend or not, that was embarrassing.

“An innocent girl like you?” Ransom smiles, grabbing your basket and heading for check-out. Your lips are slightly parted, looking distraught in the middle of a bookstore.

“Ransom!”

“Come on, Shortcake. We have more places to be.”

What the hell just happened?

🍂

“That fear you feel? It won’t last.” Ransom states, his tone a bit more serious. You quirk your brows as you walk down the street, your books stashed in the back of Ransom's convertible.

“Fear?” You question, look to where he walks next to you on the cracked sidewalk. Leaves crunch unearth your feet as you lose your arms in your hoodie, letting the fabric hang.

“You're afraid to trust again, aren’t you shortcake?”

You closed your mouth quickly. Ransom wasn’t entirely wrong, it had only been a few hours, but you truly thought it would be the last time you would ever love again.

“I trust, Ransom.”

“Who?” He asks, stopping in front of a little coffee shop just around the corner of the bookstore. It looks fairly empty from what you can see in the window.

“I trust you.”

That’s all he’s ever wanted to hear.

You order the first pumpkin spice menu item you read. A latte with whipped cream and real pumpkin. Ransom ordered a black coffee, because… of course he did. You both find an orange booth to settle in, sitting across from each other. Candles are lit throughout the shop as baristas call out orders to the other customers.

You bring your lips to the steaming cup, not caring if it burns your tongue or not, you feel the whipped cream gather on your flesh, smelling the cinnamon rooted throughout the substance. Ransom laughs, reaching over the table, and swiping his thumb across your nose to wear the whip cream sets. “You're a messy girl, shortcake.”

“That’s what your dad said.” You joke, laughing as Ransom shakes his head.

“I’m taking the books back.”

“No!”

He tilts his head in a way that says “Now who’s laughing”.

Unfortunately, it was not you.

You two sat in the coffee shop and converse, ordering drink after drink and dessert after dessert, loud laughter could be heard from one source,

Your table.

🍂

It had been a long day. The night sky rose above you, the air now having a layer of coolness to it, enough to bite you if you went outside. As soon as you got into your apartment, Ransom started you a bath, fiddling with a lighter for a few minutes, trying to light your favorite fall-themed candle.

He poured a generous amount of bubble bath into the tub, watching the hot water steam, turning the liquid into white bubbles.

“Shortcake, Bath’s ready!” Ransom calls, and you put your books down, having about ready to organize them. Your stomach ached from all the pumpkin you practically inhaled today, and a warm bath was just the thing to relieve every taught muscle.

You lean against the door frame in nothing but a towel, smelling the bubble bath mixed with the scented candle. You smile, looking at Ransom, “Thank you.” It dissipates from your lips with more appreciation than you could imagine.

“Of course.” Ransom goes to exit, but your fingers wrap around his wrist, turning him around. “Are you going home?”

“I’ll still be here when you get out of your bath.” He whispers, leaning forward to place a soft kiss against your temple, you don’t think much about it, now when it makes you want to melt. “You're full of surprises today, huh?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Anything.

🍂

The feel of your best friend's lips against your temple, the sound of his flirty comments and funny resolve, you were starting to look at Ransom in a different way.

A way you both desired but pushed away.

“Ransom!” You call, and in an instant, he’s walking into the bathroom, shielding his eyes as he stops in front of the tub. You smile, heat blooming in your gut.

“Come here, silly.” The hesitation in his steps chips at your heart, but you pursue with it regardless. Ransom kneels by the tub, and carefully you unshield his eyes, holding onto his fingers.

“Shortcake, I don’t want to do anything you're uncomfortable with-” You grab his hand from where it rests in yours, and despite begging to be able to pull away, Ransom doesn't do it. He watches as you glide his hand, being held by the wrist, across your shoulder, bringing his fingers lower to slide down your breast, as your unoccupied hand splashes water upward, making the movement easier.

Ransom’s breath catches as his fingers meet a hardened peak, his eyes locking with your own. “Sweet girl-,

“You showed me what it was like to feel good again, Ransom.” A pained look blossomed on his cheeks, looking to where you sit in the bathtub.

“It was my pleasure.” You see clearly he’s fighting with himself, how far should he go with you? He didn’t want you to think he was using you. You and your ex just broke up.

Ransom also couldn’t deny the burning sensation that settled deep inside him, did he have feelings for his best friend? His best fucking friend of four years?

“It’s too soon-” He pulls away, unsure of his wariness, you sigh, feeling his fingers leave your chest. Perhaps it was for the better, it was so soon, and the last thing you wanted to do was use Ransom for pleasure.

If there was one thing you had known, the one thing that interaction did clarify, You loved him.

Maybe, you always had.

#masterlist #fanfic #oneshot #fluff #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans #hauntedhoedownmasterlist #hauntedhoedown #inklore #hauntedhoedownday8

[tragedygroupie]

Miles bron smut please!!💗💗

thank you so much for this because it inspired me to write this and it may be one of my favorite things i’ve ever written

his parliament’s on fire and his hands are up

“are you sure her name isn’t on the list?” my friend asks.

“i’m positive.”

it’s some time late at night, and my friends and i are trying to get into one of new york’s most exclusive clubs. we make a game out of it, the pleading and cajoling almost as fun as the actual clubbing.

“can you check for my name? it’s juli pascal,” my best friend giggles.

“girls if i don’t find your name after this, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” the bouncer sighs.

“actually, they’re with me.”

i turn around, confused.

an older man with a hamptons tan and aggressively blonde hair walks over to us. a security detail follows him.

“isn’t that right darling?” he asks me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

i smile at him. two can play at this game.

“this would be my boyfriend. HE should be on the list, isn’t that right honey?” i ask.

the bouncer’s face has gone red, and he’s stammering.

“i’m so sorry mr bron, this won’t happen again-“

i turn to my friends and try to convey my disbelief.

“fucking miles bron?!” juli mouths.

i shrug, scarcely able to process it myself.

as we walk through the door, my friends start thanking him profusely.

“thank you so much mr bron, we really appreciate it-“

he waves his hand.

“its no problem ladies. i used to be like you when i was your age, i always love helping out fellow disrupters.”

juli and i dissolve into a fit of giggles, as the rest of the group laughs as well.

“well we really appreciate it.” i say.

he lets go of my waist, and i almost feel disappointed.

“i hope to see you ladies sometime soon,” he says and we all thank him again.

as he walks off, lulu turns to me.

“what the fuck?”

i shrug.

“stranger things have happened.”

juli shakes her head.

“that may be the strangest thing that’s ever fucking happened.”

********************************************

it’s been an hour and i’m stumbling up to the bar. i’m not really built for clubbing- i hate dancing and i don’t like most men. the most fun part of the night is always trying to get in, and i’m still not entirely over how we did that in the first place.

i sit up at the counter and get on my phone as i wait for the server to come over.

“aren’t you a little young to be drinking?”

i turn around and there he is.

the blonde himself.

“aren’t you a little old to be clubbing?” i shoot back.

he chuckles, putting his hands up in an i surrender pose as he sits down next to me.

“also, i am old enough to drink. in most countries anyway.”

he laughs at that, a full body laugh that makes me wonder if he’s drunk already.

“you’re funny.”

“i do stand up if you’re interested. my best material is on Twitter.”

“i considered buying twitter.” he says thoughtfully as the server comes over.

“i’ll have a rum and coke. you?” he asks.

“the exact same, only no rum please.”

the server bustles off and he looks at me curiously.

“you don’t drink?”

i shake my head.

“i barely drink anything that isn’t coke to begin with.”

we sit quietly for a moment as the server returns with our drinks.

“so do you always do this?” he asks.

“do what?”

“go to clubs that most people can’t get into and try to con your way in?”

i laugh.

“i don’t know if it’s conning. my friends are pretty, they should get in just on hotness alone,” i say as i sip my coke.

“and what about you?”

“i’m gonna be an Oscar winning filmmaker someday. they’re lucky i deign to visit their establishment.”

he laughs.

“what have you directed?”

“nothing yet.”

“i like your confidence.”

we take a swig of our drinks, and i assess him. he’s not a bad looking dude. old enough to be my father, but i’ve skewed towards older men since i was in high school.

“why’d you get us in?” i ask.

“i like your style. you’re disruptive. inbreathiating even.”

i giggle.

“that’s not a real word.”

he goes on like he hasn’t heard me.

“would it be too cheesy if i said it was because you’re pretty?” he asks.

i scoff.

“there are a million models still waiting out there in the cold. i don’t know what you’d see in me that you can’t find in them.”

he shakes his head.

“you’re pretty in a different way. in a… real way.”

why the fuck is this sleazy pick up working?

“a lot of the girls in my world are pretty in a polished way. they’re pretty because they were manufactured to be that way. there’s nothing wrong with that, but you, you’re pretty like a forest fire.”

he grabs my hand as he talks, his eyes never leaving mine.

“you have this chaos and fun and danger to you, and it’s not that cheap thrill shit you get at a theme park. you’re pretty and you’re dangerous in the way a hurricane is.”

my drink is abandoned as i focus entirely on him.

“do you like my kind of pretty?” i ask, feeling like i’m fourteen years old again.

“i wanna drown in it.”

we stare at each other for a moment, and i grab my drink and take a long sip.

“do you dance?” i finally ask.

“yes,” he grins.

“i don’t.”

“well we’ll have to fix that.” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of my chair, back to the dance floor.

when we get to the heart of the crowd i stand there, unsure of how to proceed.

“you really don’t dance?” he asks, surprised.

“hmm, if only i had told you.”

he laughs and i hate how infectious it is, because now i have a small smile on my face.

“well you start by doing this.”

he grabs my hands and puts them on his shoulders.

“and then you just kind of-“ he rocks back and forth to the music.

slowly, i move my body with him.

“you’re getting the hang of it!”

i move closer to him, so close that he’s practically grinding on me while i interlock my hands behind his neck.

we sway to the pulsating music, rocking our bodies in time and part of me wants to close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder, but that’s a little too cheesy for a potential fuck with a billionaire playboy.

when the song ends, i look up at him and see the hunger in his eyes.

he wants me, and i want him.

if he’s bad in bed at least i’ll get to sleep on sheets with a thread count higher than my tuition.

“do you wanna go back to your place?”

he grins.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

********************************************

his apartment makes me want to shank him.

it reeks of money, new money eclecticism with superfluous furniture and nonsensical art pieces.

it makes me cringe. i have to fuck him.

“so do you wanna-“ he asks as i cut him off with a kiss.

he startles, before seemingly coming alive.

he pushes me against the wall, his hands wandering my body as he kisses me hard. his mouth wanders with his hands, kissing and sucking hickeys onto my neck.

“aren’t we… a little… old… for hickeys?” i pant as he chuckles into my skin.

“i wont leave any if you don’t want me to.” he says as he bites my neck.

“now when did i say that?” i breathe.

he’s running his hand up my thigh, and when he starts rubbing me through my underwear i start dissolving into incoherence.

“do you want me to touch you?” he asks coyly.

i nod frantically.

“use your words honey.”

“yes fuck you yes just fucking touch me please.” i spit out.

“so impatient,” he observes and i’m about to tell him to fuck off when he slides a finger inside me and i’m rendered dumb.

he starts pumping it in and out of me, his thumb rubbing circles onto my clit and i’m whimpering, melting into his arms as he coos at me like a baby.

“do you like that?” he asks softly.

i nod into the crook of his neck, thankful that i’m spared eye contact.

as he slides another finger inside me and curls i feel my knees start to buckle.

it’s honestly a little pathetic but i haven’t been finger fucked this well in god knows how long.

as he continues to pump his fingers and rub my clit i feel the coil in my stomach threaten to snap.

“can i, can i?” i start babbling.

“of course sweetheart,” he murmurs, his free hand brushing my hair.

i feel myself fall over the edge as he fingers me through my orgasm, and the whole time he holds me close to him.

when he pulls his fingers out i sneak a look at him and he smiles at me.

“do you think you have another left in you?” he asks.

“god yes,” i breathe.

he picks me up bridal style in his arms and carries me to his bedroom, where he gently lays me down.

strong hands pull my dress over my head, methodically undressing me as i try to tug at his shirt.

he crawls over me and holds my face in his hands for a moment.

i hook my thighs around his waist and when he enters me, it burns deliciously from my cunt throughout my body. he stills a little, letting me adjust, before setting a slow but hard pace.

my eyes are rolling back into my head as i grip the sheets, only to feel his hands on my face.

“eyes on me,” he groans.

he starts speeding up when we make eye contact, slamming into me while he reaches down between us to rub my clit with a fervor i didn’t know he had in him.

as i near my orgasm, i babble, desperately trying to ask permission to cum.

“can i please please please” i pant.

“cum for me darling,” he says.

i feel my body shake as i spasm around him.

my cunt clenching around him must trigger his own release, because he’s cumming deep inside me, hot and thick.

when he pulls out, i’m still shaking and i pray he doesn’t notice how my thighs are trembling, i don’t want to add to his ego.

“are you alright?” he asks.

“yeah,” i stutter out.

“you’re shaking,” he observes.

before i can respond he takes me in his arms, hugging me close to him.

exhausted, i rest my head on his chest.

“imma sleep and if you wake up before me, just pretend like i’m dead,” i mutter.

he laughs.

“okay.”

#edward norton #glass onion #miles bron #knives out #miles bron smut #oneshot #edward norton smut

[ronearoundblindly]

Pretty Desperate Thing

Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Holy BEJEEZUS, MINORS DNI

Warnings for SMUT. (I have never written anything like this before, but sometimes the brain just writes what it writes. If this is not your cup of tea, please DO NOT READ. Everything I've written so far is much softer. This is not that.) Kinda degradation, name-calling, objectification where did this come from, spanking, unprotected sex, faintly dub-con and why did I enjoy this so much, like omg dirty-talk, pretty sure that's it I'm going to hell for sure.

Send snacks. Ransom counts as a snack.

Something about the way Hugh calls you his 'pretty, pretty, little whore' sounds so caring you melt. The words make you melt to your knees, melt to bend over, melt into the mattress, and Hugh follows.

You've earned extra money for a while cleaning houses, but you actually stopped working for the business months ago. Now it's just him. Now he has your number and texts you directly.

"I'll need you here to clean up after."

That's the day it started, him talking to your back while you scrubbed the toilet. He threw a party that night. Rich friends, richer idiots, hot girls, hotter women. Hugh texted you too early, and you had to stand there at the door waiting for the guests to file out slowly, laughing at your clothes as they drunkenly stumble by.

He doesn't even say your name or invite you in. He just stands there holding the door open a little longer.

Hugh looks around while he pushes the door shut, grumbling, "messy fuckers."

There's something about the way that Hugh is instantly alone after everyone's left--no lingering amusement, no waves goodbye, no plans for next time--that hollows out of piece of your gut to see. Truth be told, you've wanted to jump this prick's bones for...well, forever, but it's the sad puppy dog hiding behind gold-plated steel that just breaks you.

Actually, it bends you. It bends your knees right to the floor at his feet while you grab at the fastening of his jeans and paw at his crotch.

Hugh groans out a 'fuck' with no mention of you stopping, no shock other than that his blue eyes weren't on you at the moment you broke. He's mostly still soft by the time your lips hit him, but that's changing rapidly.

"Shit, honey." The words hit you like a sugar rush. "Such a fucking whore for it, aren't you?"

You become instantly addicted to the way he grows in your mouth as his groans get louder. It's sloppy and needy because if you hesitate for an instant, embarrassment might take over and ruin your chance to see him finish. You've imagined his face when he cums frequently and you want to know whether he unravels with a relaxed and open mouth or a clenched jaw and creased brow.

From the effort he exerts to thrust to the back of your throat, your guess is the latter.

The thumb of the hand he's sunk into your hair pets back and forth as he mutters sick praises--"such a pretty whore," "that tight, wet mouth, baby," and "stop before I say, and I won't fuck you."

Hugh may as well be serenading you by the way your panties cling tighter with every word. He edges himself with your mouth. You're surprised how little he makes you gag for it. He prefers movement, it seems, your soft lips moving slickly over the smooth shaft of him. He pulls you off and strokes himself while demanding you give due attention to his balls. You have to push his clothes farther down for that.

You love how noisy he is; this memory alone will carry you for years, you're sure of it. Every foul pant of 'slut' and 'dirty girl' strains your flustered heat when he simply adds 'my' before them.

"Fuck, yes, my pretty little whore. So desperate for me."

And then finally, "get up."

Your thighs can't stop clenching as you rise, relishing his darkened sea gaze that travels the length of you, uncaring how vulnerable he should be with his dick in hand and his hurried breaths.

"Get in there." He ticks his head towards the guest room closest to the foyer (because you hadn't made it past the welcome mat until this moment).

He grabs your ass harshly on the way, making you scuttle faster. You've barely made it to the bed before he pushes between your shoulder blades.

"Hands."

His voice has dropped significantly, much like your leggings as he rips them down, biting at the back of your thigh while he tugs the springy fabric off of just one foot. He just needs them to spread. You don't need to be free.

The tremble that wracks you is half-excitement, half-fear, and you are all for it.

He slides the head of his cock through your folds. No pressure to it, just a pull across your lips and clit like he's got all day to torturously pet you, to watch while you can't see, to stake ownership on your time as well as your body. Then he slowly works two fingers inside you, leaning across your back so his breath cascades across your flushed neck.

"Is this how you do it, huh? Work yourself open for me every night?" He feels how little resistance your sweet sex offers and adds a finger. "Toy or fingers, baby?"

Your brain is liquified goo electrified by his curling fingers.

"Not a talker," he tsks sadly, "but hopefully a screamer."

Hugh rolls his thumb in circles around your clit while his fingers pump. You can feel your walls tighten in anticipation, a tension wrapping around your insides powerfully fast.

"You don't mind taking me raw, do you, pretty thing?" His free hand comes up to stroke your cheek. "You want this slut cunt filled, don't you, baby."

Fuck his words send you right over the edge, and while you spasm in bliss, Hugh switches his fingers with his cock and thrusts deep inside you, growling at the feel of you sucking him in with different lips. Filth spews from his mouth, though you can't discern the words spoken into the shirt still on your back. He takes the chance to compose himself while you come down.

He leans back to stare at himself buried inside you, and without pulling back, his fingers trace where you're stretched around him.

"My sweet, little slut," he groans low, "sweet as I ever imagined."

The thought of him having wanted you, too, for any length of time before this moment, has you arching back against him. It makes his fingers dig against your ass, and Hugh is all too keen on continuing to soften his pretty whore in any way possible.

His palm comes down hard against the swell of your ass, sending you forward and back onto him. He doesn't even have to thrust. You do all the work, crack after crack against your jiggling flesh. He lets you know how much he likes that, you doing all the work, you breaking a sweat while he stands and watches you fuck yourself on him.

"That's it, baby. There're my screams."

As the drag of him edges you closer and closer to another orgasm, Hugh either takes pity on you or just gets impatient. Your rhythm falters.

"Such a hard worker," he chides. "Lay down for me, pretty whore, and I'll help you finish the job."

You whine when he pulls out cruelly slow. Your legs are so shaky, unsteady as set jello, that he has to help turn you, stripping off the rest of your clothes and his.

"Shh, baby, just a little more work and you can lay there like the dirty thing you are." He's kneeling and bent over you in one smooth motion, stiff cock pressed against your dripping slick, teasing a nipple in his mouth. "That's what you want, right? To be my pretty little cum dumpster."

You cry out as he ruts against you, so willing to do anything for this man to fuck you senseless. You're ninety percent there already.

"That's it--" he aligns himself and sinks back into your heat until fully sheathed "--desperate little whore wants to come, too, huh?" His excitement is fed by your endless whimpers and moans. Somehow the intense pumps into you and lewd slap of skin against skin feel nicer than you imagined. His attention is fixed on you, judging and full of awe all at once.

"Fuck me," you finally yell out, because if you don't put as much power behind the words as possible, you may die without the friction of his punishment. "Fuck me harder, please."

And your words fuel him just right. Hugh bites at your collarbone while his hips snap with bruising devastation and the head of him pounds at just the right spot within you. It's the perfect pain. It's the slap of climax that launches you into a song of scream, and that drags him over the edge with you.

His profanities don't slow with his thrusts though. Even as his body settles, his mouth moves faster.

"My fucking perfect, pretty little whore--ahh--tighter than a vice for me," he mumbles against your neck.

Then the unexpected happens.

Hugh's head lifts to yours, and he kisses you hungrily. After you've sucked his dick. After he's come inside you. After all the filthy things he's called you. Hugh tongue-fucks you like a needy teen. If you weren't delirious before, you are now.

While you two make out, he still rocks his hips against you, even as his erection fades and cum squelched out of you. It's filthily intimate, and you honestly don't know how to interpret it.

There's a want beyond sex that travels across your body with his hands until he grips your ass again, planting one last solid smack on you before breaking away with a gasp.

"Looks like you've got a lot to clean, baby. Better get to work."

So I've never really written anything kink before. No clue if this is good or bad, and I weirdly don't care (?) because at least the earworm is out now. Hopefully, someone else can enjoy this for what it is: completely unplanned, basically unedited filth. Sorry, not sorry. This counts as writing practice. I'm sure someone told me that once.

#ransom x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #fanfic #oneshot #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #fanfiction #knives out #knives out fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #smut

[mydetheturk]

gonna motivate myself to work on this fic by posting a snippet for six sentence sunday

Knives is.... Knives.

~~

Legato reaches out and touches, pressing his hand down on Midvalley's collar bones. His hand doesn't stretch fully across Midvalley's collar, and instead Legato presses his fingertips into various marks Knives has left on Midvalley.

Good boy.

“Beautiful, isn't he, Legato?” Knives says. He slows down a little, not quite teasing. “Stretched out between us.”

#trigun #millions knives #legato bluesummers #midvalley the hornfreak #six sentence sunday #myde writes #midvalley my beloved #ftr the fic starts out and was only supposed to be a oneshot w/ knives/midvalley + legato #it now has a second chapter that's midvalley/legato from leggy's pov and a third chapter that's from midvalley's #so #working on those rn >.>

[leonidskies]

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm next fic. Alear & Veyle & Nel & Rafal modern AU perhaps

#pivoting entirely into weird cool medium-long oneshots now #I'm maybe a third to halfway through prep for an original novel so my fic is gonna be SUPER specific and indulgent #this is going to be a knives out fusion modern au probably. in the mood for pseudo casefic

[intrepidacious]

... 👀

good night or should i say good morning

both? both. both is good.

come on down

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

word count: 825

warnings: implied smut. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: me? spontaneously writing the sequel of a drabble i haven't actually posted instead of writing any of the other things i said i'd work on? it's more likely than you think.

The first couple of moments after you woke up were so comfortable. Peaceful, almost.

You nestled deeper into your pillow, breathing in the fresh smell of laundry detergent, revelling at the soft cotton against your cheek with a contented sigh. You still felt blissfully happy from sleep, not yet ready to face the day.

Somewhere behind you, a floorboard creaked.

At first, you assumed your cat had made her way into your bedroom to beg for breakfast again and so you didn’t move, waiting for her to jump onto the bed. Instead, though, there was a brief pause followed by a quiet huff.

A cold shiver ran down your spine.

Slowly, you opened one eye after the other. Now that you were looking at it, it was clear that the pillow you’d snuggled wasn’t yours at all. You didn’t recognize the room, either; high ceilings, bright sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, making your heart pound even faster. What time was it?

You turned around in bed—you were naked underneath the sheets, of fucking course you were naked—only to freeze when you took in the rest of the room. There were bookshelves lining the rest of the walls, filled with an assortment of hardcovers, marble statuettes and other expensive looking paraphernalia. A heavy, worn down armchair stood next to a reading lamp, a blanket haphazardly thrown over the back.

And next to all of it, leaning in the doorframe with that damn arrogance written all across his face, was Ransom Drysdale.

Your memories of last night came flooding back with an unbidden rush of heat. His mouth crashing against yours, swallowing a moan as his hands tightened around your waist. You pulling him closer, closer, dragging your nails across his back. His teeth grazing your shoulder, your collarbone, eyes inky black as he moved his fingers just so and you were gone.

"Oh, hell no," you said out loud.

Ransom took a sip of coffee. "Morning to you, too, sunshine." An air of self-satisfaction surrounded him, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even deny he’d earned it. His hair was still sticking up at the back. You remembered tangling your fingers in it and pulling until he groaned against your lips.

"Shut up," you hissed, trying to cover yourself with the comforter as you attempted to reach for your shirt on the floor. "This never happened."

Ransom watched you struggle with his eyebrows raised, making no move to help you whatsoever. "You realize I’ve seen all that, right?" he said, gesturing vaguely at your body.

"Nope," you said, finally managing to catch the shirt tag. "Because, like I said, this never happened."

When you met his eyes again, he was still staring at you, a challenge in his gaze. You didn’t intend to take him up on it, and so you were the first to look away, feeling his grin linger. There was a hickey poking out underneath the collar of his white sweater.

You swallowed heavily.

"Suit yourself," Ransom finally shrugged, sauntering to the armchair across the room. "You know where the door is."

You took the opportunity of his turned back to quickly pull the shirt over your head, foregoing the bra in favor of a faster exit. You were still quietly cursing yourself as you wriggled into your underwear without moving out from the comforter. Just when you started looking for your pants, they came flying from the other side of the room, almost hitting you in the head. When you glared at Ransom, he didn’t even look up from the book he’d picked up. His knuckles were pressed against his lips in a way that looked almost contemplative.

Something inside you twisted.

You quickly finished getting dressed, your cheeks still burning as you stuffed the rest of your clothes under your arm, doing one final cursory glance around the room. There was zero acknowledgement of your presence, even as you walked briskly towards the door.

"Not a word of this to anyone," you warned him again as you pushed the door open with a little more force than needed.

"Aren’t you late for your meeting?" Ransom said, that familiar tone of boredom lacing his words again.

You cursed underneath your breath, rushing downstairs two steps at a time to find your boots in a pile next to your discarded bag. Your heart was still racing uncomfortably.

This was a mistake, you told yourself as you slammed the front door shut behind you, hurrying to your car. You’d have to call Harlan to postpone the damn meeting; there was no way you were going to show up there without taking a shower first. A very cold shower.

You pulled out of the driveway without a look back, and so you missed the figure standing in the upstairs window, watching you with attentive eyes, wondering why the hell the sight of you leaving didn’t feel right at all.

thank you for reading 💛 if you want to see more of my writing (which does not currently include more ransom fics but definitely will in the future), check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale oneshot #knives out fanfiction #knives out oneshot #come on down #brandy 🫶🏼

[heliads]

hi again !! person who asked about part 2 4 the benoit blanc fic here !! thank u 4 agreeing 2 write it !!

k so here's my request : it's like half a year after part 1 , and benny n the reader r solving crimes together but they're like ... super awkward with each other . they don't dislike each other , in fact they want to be closer , but r really wants a parental figure but isn't sure how to verbalize that and benoit jus does NOT know how 2 parent.

but then when they r on a case , r gets hurt ( not 2 serious , but enough 2 be scary ) , and benoit realizes how much he actually cares about this kid . n then they have a really sweet moment n decide 2 try n get closer ?

thank you so much !! i'm super excited 2 read this !!

anything for benny

part one / masterlist

Benoit Blanc is lost. Usually, this is not enough to trouble him. Problems are only worthwhile if they take some time to parse out. Benoit has no fondness for pointless mysteries, games in which the end is clear from the beginning and the middle has no value at all. He has always preferred to amble along and seek out clues. That is his best method of solving, it always has been.

It is a confounded issue, then, that Benoit is lost now. He is not in the midst of a crime, nor locked within the confines of a good hoax. He is between jobs at the moment, which usually means that his problem-solving fingers should cease to twitch at his sides, that he would no longer be ready to reach for a hint that will let him catch a killer.

Benoit’s problem at the moment regards his apprentice. He took on a teenager to help him with his cases about six months back, Y/N L/N. They’ve been an excellent aid, no cause for concern there, but Benoit’s judgment is faulty in where he is meant to draw the line between work friend and real friend. Typically, he never runs into this problem because he keeps each case to itself with no overlap whatsoever. By bringing Y/N with him, he now has someone closer than an acquaintance.

The issue is that Benoit would like to go about making their dynamic a little less stilted but he has absolutely no idea how to do it. There are moments when he’s certain that Y/N would appreciate a little parental guidance, for a lack of a better word, but Benoit is few things and one of them is certainly not a father. Thus, he is left grappling with how to indicate that he would like to try having a more central role in Y/N’s life with absolutely no idea how to do it.

Benoit took the idea to Phillip a month or so back to limited success. His partner had been focused on the intricacies of some blasted sourdough starter, his attention more in line with tossing flour to the heavens and whatnot. Benoit had posed the concern of what to do with the L/N kid. Phillip had allowed him to ramble on during the feeding time of the sourdough starter, which was consistently scheduled as if it were some kind of beast in need of a kilogram or ten of raw meat.

Benoit cannot fault his partner for the importance of the sourdough, however. They all need a task, some project in which to throw their focus and only withdraw some time later, wholly spent and perhaps a different man. Phillip finds his outlet with baking. Benoit does so with the lives of other people. 

Some would consider that to be a sign of their true characters, but Benoit tries to prioritize the people above the thrill of the hunt. That, in the end, is what he feels separates him from the gaudy treasure-seekers of podcasts and true crime shows. Although he does feel that he would make a superb advice host if the chance ever came along. Phillip has yet to catch on to the idea, but Benoit is giving it time.

The conversation was brief but sincere. Phillip had dashed about a cup of flour into the ominous bowl of starter, then turned to him with a sigh.

“You’re getting in your own way,” he had said simply.

Benoit had spread his hands. “Obviously, but how do I get out of my own way? It is difficult, sometimes, to find one’s path long enough to step aside and let the truth rush forward. Sort of like a child who’s just taken off their training wheels. They can go fast, of course, and wreak havoc throughout the suburbs, but, Lord, they should not be allowed to do so.”

Phillip raised a weary brow. “In this case, I don’t think the issue is that you shouldn’t be able to go fast. You just are afraid to let go of your inhibitions. They’re a kid, Blanc, not a piranha. Although God knows you’d rather investigate a piranha than deal with this.”

“It would be interesting to figure out how a piranha had managed to cross my path,” Benoit had mused. “That isn’t the point, though.”

“No,” Phillip said around another sigh, “it isn’t. You need to find the proper time, then tell Y/N what you expect, plain and simple. There’s no other way around there.”

Phillip was right, as expected. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the advice Benoit had wanted to hear. He would have preferred something along the lines of ‘don’t worry about it, how about you go take another case’ or even ‘wait for them to come to you,’ but life is hardly fair.

“Thank you,” Benoit had said at last, “and for goodness’ sake, stop pointing that spatula at me. I’m going to do it. No threatening necessary.”

Phillip had disagreed on that point, but that was hardly a surprise. Benoit had gone to bed that night wondering how he was going to find the right chance to explain his expectations for the situation between himself and Y/N. In the morning, he woke with a blessing.

Handwritten letters have long been Benoit’s favorite way of hearing about a new case. Typically, he can figure out half the evidence just from studying the correspondence. Is the information scribbled in a hasty scrawl or typed out to avoid giving anything away? Do they mention his prior cases from the papers, and if so, which ones? Are the stamps perfectly organized, the product of a great time for leisure, or slapped on the envelope just before the mailman came?

This letter is no exception. Already, Benoit has a few ideas percolating in his brain even before he starts reading the message. This is a call to arms, to be certain. A murder. A weapon. Several innocents all in the line of fire. An inheritance, ready to fall into the wrong hands. Yes, this is a case for him without a doubt.

Benoit explains the situation to Y/N when she comes back from school in the evening. They discuss initial motives, then agree to respond back in a most reasonable fashion. The police investigations start Saturday, so they’ll arrive early in the morning in the hopes of reaching the family before too much has happened.

The car is studiously quiet on the drive over to the crime scene. A few times, Benoit or Y/N will attempt to bring up a casual source of conversation, but they always seem to lose their nerve before true discourse can occur. Something will happen to make them hesitate, and then the ball is dropped and they’re back to silence.

Benoit is grateful to see the address of the crime scene before long, sparing them from another few unsuccessful endeavors. Half an hour later, they’re so lost in the tangled threads of this particular mystery that they don’t have much time to trouble themselves over small things like whether or not this whole apprenticeship deal was worth it.

By Saturday evening, Benoit feels that he’s got a pretty good hold on the case itself. It seems to be your typical run-of-the-mill inheritance snatch. A primary character is established, the man who would receive the largest cut of a will. They’re then framed for murder, thus ensuring that the bounty will instead fall to the second-in-line, a brother-in-law who only married into the family in the hopes of collecting this sort of bloody check. Very satisfying.

Sunday morning rolls around. After a final late night check with Y/N to make sure their facts are in order, the pair feels ready to present their findings to the police and distraught family. Benoit, always excited at the possibility of an audience, leads with his theory and watches the brother-in-law’s face twist with horror as he realizes he’s been exposed.

All is going according to plan, or at least it has been until the brother-in-law stands up and announces that he isn’t going quietly. The money has already been transferred to his account, much of it withdrawn, and he can live off of it for quite some time. The murderer moves to flee, but when the police start to block his path, he does the unthinkable and grabs Y/N as a hostage.

Benoit has no choice but to watch as the murderer leaves the house, gun pressed to Y/N’s temple as a guarantee that he’s going to remain untroubled. Benoit has been involved in quite a few murder cases over his time, and is no stranger to danger, but this is something altogether different. He is terrified, plain and simple. Terrified that he’ll lose his crime-solving partner before even a year has passed. Terrified that he’ll never get that chance Phillip was talking about.

It occurs to him now that Benoit needs that chance more than anything. If he does not speak with Y/N about the fact that he wants them to be better friends, to rely on each other more than the stilted dynamic they have going on right now, he will carry that regret to his grave.

It is good, then, that Benoit and Y/N had factored in the fact that the murderer would try to run and planned accordingly. The brother-in-law’s car only makes it halfway down the street before the tires abruptly give out and the vehicle screeches to a stop. Y/N was evidently waiting for that moment, because they fling open the door and dive out without a second’s hesitation.

Benoit sprints to their side, pulling them away from the car and towards safety. The police surround the car, and after a few tense seconds the brother-in-law comes out with his hands raised. Benoit only starts to relax once the killer is in handcuffs and he knows for certain that the situation is in the hands of the law.

He turns to Y/N at last, checking for signs of damage. “Are you hurt?” He asks, frantic.

Y/N shakes their head. “No, I’m alright. Just startled, that’s all.”

“You’re a brave kid,” Benoit manages, “I don’t know that many people who would be this unruffled after being taken as a hostage. It speaks to your character. It also reminds me how affected I would be if something worse had happened. You’re not a stranger, Y/N, you’re a friend. I’d like for us to believe in that.”

Y/N starts to smile. “More than normal?”

“Far more than normal,” Benoit confirms, “millions of miles beyond that point. The best partnerships are based on trust. I trust you, Y/N.”

“I trust you,” they respond, “that’s why I was alright. I knew that no matter what happened, even if the tire thing didn’t work out, you’d look for me.”

“You didn’t need me, though,” Benoit argues, “you had the situation handled just fine. You were courageous all by yourself and I am quite impressed by that.”

Y/N shakes their head. “I could be brave because I knew you were there. I trust you.”

“Alright,” Benoit says at last, “we’re good, then.”

“We’re great,” Y/N confirms.

Benoit thinks that he’s going to have to talk to Phillip about this. The plan has gone quite well indeed.

part one requested by @starlit-epiphany, your ideas are very popular around here

knives out taglist: empty for now!

#benoit blanc #benoit blanc imagines #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc oneshot #knives out #knives out imagines #knives out x reader #knives out oneshot #platonic benoit blanc #platonic benoit blanc imagines #platonic benoit blanc x reader #platonic benoit blanc oneshot

[taegularities]

I would DIE if you’d come up with a horror/thriller fic.

EYYY that's so cool, thank you thank youuuu 😭

#i'm not sure if i'd be able to write that genre well but i'd loooove to try #i might go full scary one day (LIKE IMAGINE A SCARY KINDA OT7 KNIVES OUT THING W FOCUS ON ONE MEMBER!!!) but! #i think im gonna start small n see how entertainer turns out bc it lowkey has a mysterious/shady kinda vibe lol #you'll see but i really hope you like it bc im gonna put my all into this oneshot!!! #notes for rid 🌹 #ash <3

[ipatrichor]

OKAY SO. content warnings for near-drowning, injury, death, and eldritch horror stuff typical of a call of cthulu oneshot. (dw tho i promise no pets die)

in the back of the cabinet under the front counter, there's a tiny coraline door that leads nowhere- just a white wall. however, when you touch this wall you go right through it into an unknown space beyond. ronnie spots it first and decides to ignore it until the old man who works with us, van (yes we called him old man van) crawls through and disappears at which point we investigate.

the premise is that we all work at 7-11. no one schedules the shifts bc the manager doesn't fucking care, so we've all showed up today. our group is comprised of:

- ronnie, she/her, a herbo with a dog who shits on the floor of the 7-11

- morgs (short for morgan), she/they, a punk lesbian who used to date ronnie before things ended badly

- cody, they/them, an amateur ghost hunter who's always high and has more parkour skills than sense

- eide (pronounced eed), they/them, a mystery with a backpack they keep almost as close as they keep their secrets.

ronnie's dog, commander ozzy, goes through and eide ends up following to retrieve him. thankfully commander ozzy didn't go far, and all eide sees is a room with winding tunnels leading away from it and pipes along the walls. when they return they tell us not to go in, closing the cabinet and keeping watch. the group splits- cody and morgs smoke outside and discuss their curiosity, eide texts an unknown party, and ronnie waits behind the counter.

eide goes to the back to snack on inventory while leaving their phone behind. morgs and cody return while the coast is clear, and cody takes their backpack and sneaks inside. two men come looking for eide, but ronnie and morgs lie and say they don't know an eide so the men leave. eide comes back out, learns what happens, and goes out into the front parking lot but is too late to catch them.

around this time, the manager comes back and insists on going after old man van despite ronnie's protests. after sticking his head inside, though, his sanity is greatly damaged and he returns nearly catatonic, barely aware of the world around him. ronnie does her best to deal with this, but is left with no assistance.

meanwhile, cody records their trip and leaves a trail of pencils. they begin to explore the tunnels while morgs keeps watch back in the 7-11 with cody's beloved pet lizard, galcan (short for galactic cannibalism). morgs glances inside to take another look, and while she does ronnie returns from stuffing the manager in a closet and yanks her out despite her resistance.

they argue, bringing up their messy breakup. morgs reveals that cody is in the tunnels, and ronnie is horrified and insists on going to find them and bring them back. the two do so, following the pencil trail.

eide comes back inside, finds them gone, and frustratedly enters the tunnels to find them. ronnie and morgs argue again, and morgs ends up splitting off from the group while eide finds a sacrificial dagger and ronnie follows the pencil trail looking for cody, who is having just a lovely time filming things.

they all hear a loud banging noise and rush towards it, reconvening in a cafeteria-esque room. galcan is happily returned to cody’s pocket, and a child's ball bounces by itself from a hallway leading to a weird door with an old-fashioned padlock and a tray of food next to it. ronnie is desperate to leave, and morgs teases her for being scared while eide investigates the food and cody films the door.

morgs promises to leave if ronnie goes and touches the scary door, which she reluctantly does. on the way out, though, a curtain separating the cafeteria from the kitchen moves somewhat and morgs just has to investigate. she calls cody over and the two joke around about the meat grinder and the gross hair in the sink. cody pokes it with a pencil and it feels squishy, which grosses them out. the drain starts to bubble and flood, alarming the trio who quickly make up their minds to leave- much to ronnie’s relief.

meanwhile, eide has gone further down the hallway, past windows that reveal only flat blue, and finds the bridge of a submarine. there’s a radar with nothing showing up, and a parascope that reveals nothing but more blue. the other three follow, and are trying to all get their shit together and persuade everyone to leave when something shows up on the rader. it’s getting closer, and when ronnie looks through the parascope she sees huge, indescribable creatures heading toward the submarine at impossible speeds. they slam into the submarine, loud bangs sounding and pipes beginning to burst.

they start running, only to find that there are several inches of water and rising on the floor. the pencil trail has been washed away, but ronnie remembers the way back and runs that way, cody pulling morgs along after her while eide pauses to investigate the strange door that’s now unlocked. they find a book and some information in a car’s glove box, and then take off to try and catch up with the others.

the water is rising fast, and as they come to an intersection all three see something that gives them pause. off to the right, ronnie sees commander ozzy swimming and runs towards him. on the left, cody sees galcan swimming and checks their pocket, confused to find her still safely inside. directly ahead, morgs sees a horrifying disproportionate creature waiting for them.

when ronnie reaches commander ozzy, instead of her dog she finds a piece of broken off pipe floating in the water and takes it. further down the tunnel is a green sign that she hopes will lead to an exit, and she wades toward it. eide catches up as the others follow her, all panicked.

the sign says exeunt, but cody points out that they’re in a submarine- any exit here will likely lead to the ocean instead of to the 7-11. despairing and resigned to swimming back through the tunnels looking for the original passage, they turn back only to find space bending around them and the green sign in front of them again. out of options, ronnie opens the door next to it. water rushes out into the rooms beyond, and they follow and quickly work together to shut the heavy door behind them to trap the water out.

they find themselves in a room with a single table in the middle, and a pitch black doorway on the other end with a bloody handprint on the wall next to it. with nowhere else to go, the group ventures onward- ronnie in the lead with a phone flashlight and metal pipe, morgs next with two knives she doesn’t know how to use, eide following and keeping their backpack close, and cody bringing up the rear with galcan and a vape pen because there’s no way they’re dealing with any of this sober.

as they move, the walls around them become narrower. they move, remaining metal but rhythmically expanding and contracting as if breathing. this tunnel ends in another room, empty except for what looks like a person sitting in a chair with their back towards the entryway. they breathe oddly, in a way that moves their whole body, and it’s the same rhythm as the walls.

ronnie, pushed to her absolute limit, wastes no time attacking the figure. she gets in a few solid swings with the pipe, refusing to stop as the others stare. the creature rises and turns, revealing itself to be a twisted abomination, and roars- lashing out at ronnie, who ducks out of the way and hits it again. she keeps attacking it until it lashes out and grabs her with a massive hand, squeezing and doing a fair bit of damage.

cody is afraid enough that it turns to anger, shouting ‘hey! that’s my coworker!’ and lunging. they latch onto the wrist and stab it, causing pain but failing to make it let go of ronnie. she manages to struggle out of its grip, but its other hand lashes out and impales cody through the ribs- missing vital organs and galcan’s hoodie pocket, but now dangling them from its hand as it moves.

meanwhile, the sound of the roar reverberating through her head and now cursed with the knowledge that the submarine itself is alive and the creature is just part of it, morgs examines the walls and pipes and starts turning nozzles, hoping to hurt the entity in some way.

catching on to her plan, ronnie hefts her pipe and starts smashing the pipes on the walls. these attacks cause steam to fill the room and hallway, gradually reducing visibility but also seeming to hurt the creature as the submarine itself screams.

kept functioning by adrenaline, cody starts sawing at the three fingers impaling them, trying to cut themself loose without removing the objects to minimize blood loss. it’s slow going, however, because all they have to work with is their pocket knife.

with the hand not wearing cody as a decoration, the creature swings at ronnie and morgs. morgs manages to dodge, rolling and coming up with knives ready and a wildness in her eyes, but ronnie is less nimble and gets slammed into a wall. behind them, eide finally pulls the secret from their backpack- a double barrel shotgun- and fires, staggering the creature. they then move to help cut cody lose, using the sacrificial knife they found earlier.

ronnie continues to attack the pipes, more steam spilling out and greatly impacting visibility. morgs tries to escape but gets turned around, running into the creature and getting grabbed. it knocks her unconscious and tosses her aside as eide gets cody loose, dragging them away to relative safety and reloading their shotgun.

ronnie, meanwhile, can hear the cries and yelling of her coworkers. she has a moment, remembering their frequently shit interactions and all the things she calls them assholes for, and decides- fuck it, if she’s going to die for her shitty coworkers, then so be it. she keeps breaking the pipes, even as the steam spilling out keeps burning her, until she’s gone.

ronnie is dead. morgs lies on the floor unconscious. cody still has three giant fingers impaling their stomach, likely bleeding out. eide stands functionally alone, their shotgun and their determination against the creature. they stand their ground, take aim, fire-

and everything goes black.

when they’re aware again, they’re sitting in a chair next to two hospital beds. in one lies cody, asleep but on the road to healing. in the other is morgs, who still has yet to awaken. her heart moniter flatlines, and all eide can do is watch, barely aware of the world around them, as the hospital fights to keep her alive and manages to restart her heart. whether she’ll ever wake up again or not, there’s no way to know.

#do u understand now. i am foaming at the mouth #ronnie wanted to leave. ronnie wanted to leave the whole time!!! she kept trying to get everyone to leave!!! #and when it came down to it she died for them. she was the one who wanted to leave and she died instead of the assholes who messed around #because she died protecting them!!! #morgs spends the whole time joking around and then completely breaks down and goes feral with the knives and the screaming #cody's a teen who doesn't take anything seriously and then nearly dies trying to help ronnie #eid is the most distant (barely shows up to work) and ends up saving them after dragging cody out of harm's way #can you hear me!!!! #this was Improv Roleplay this was made up as we went based on random dice numbers HELLO???? #literally how am i supposed to be normal after this #anyway kudos to our wonderful dm!! #pat.txt #roommate dnd oneshot #cody hawthorne

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader angst #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader fluff #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #fushiguro megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi angst #jjk #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #jjk angst #jjk fluff

[teeramoonlover]

Knock, Knock

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader x Stu Macher

(NSFW)

This is my first time writing oneshot, let alone smut. English is not my first language so bear with me.

Warning: Reader is a Virgin, Cussing, alot of cursing, knife play, mask kink, bondage, fingering, cunnilingus, deep throat, anal, threesome, and double penetration.

*Bold - Voice modulator, Italic - inner voice

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't recognize this deep voice talking to you.

“Who’s this?” Instead of hanging up, your gut feeling tells you to continue the conversation with this stranger. Maybe you’ll get something out of it.

“You don’t need to know about me. I just want to talk to you.”

“Now why should I do that? Stranger danger. Didn’t your parents teach you that?” You saunter around the kitchen counter and stare at the sets of kitchen knives. You pull out a cleaver and wait for them to reply.

The stranger chuckled, amused with your response.

“Just want to call you so I get to know you better.”

You poked your tongue inside your cheek. You put the knife back in its place, humming to yourself.

“Alright, Mr Stranger. You got my attention and I'm bored as hell. Shoot your million dollar question.” You leaned your back on the counter, hand in pocket while another's still holding the phone.

“Tell me, do you like scary movies?” 

“Uhh, yeah.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Does The Addams Family count? 1991 is the best.” You shrugged, checking your nails. The voice grumbled, annoyed with your movie choice.

“That’s not even a scary movie. And it’s a kid show.”

“Excuse me, that movie is my fave and you don’t get to judge my beloved Morticia Addams just because I watch a ‘kid show’. Besides, that movie is still considered horror okay. Take examples like Tim Burton’s production. Even though most of his movies are suitable for children, he still wants to insert horror elements so they could find comfort and won’t make them feel scared anymore. You should try Nightmare before Christmas or maybe Edward Scissorhand for starters.” you jested.  

“Not my kind of style. Edward is weird as fuck.”

“Oh now you’re crossing the line Mr. Nobody. Fun fact for you, Johnny Deep with or without heavy makeup is hot as fuck. Hell, if there’s any Johnny copycat out there, I’ll ride his dick straight away.” you mused. The audacity of this guy.

The stranger hummed.

Is it creepy that I can see him smiling through the phone?

“You should be careful what you wish for. It might come true.”

“Then, Amen for that. I ain’t regret what I said so if you have a problem with it, you jerked your tiny dick somewhere else.” 

He chuckled darkly.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

"What if I have one? Or maybe a girlfriend? What ya gonna do about it?” You rolled your eyes.

The phone went dead silent until a deep growl came out on the line. His voice changed to menacing.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. You’re not even lesbian.”

“Slow down tiger. I can change my preference wherever I want. Anyway, congratulations! You’re successful become from a total stranger to a fucking creep. Now no more games with me. What do you want?” You huffed, getting annoyed and a little creep out with his manic voice.

“Oh baby, you think this is a game? I’ll play a real game for ya. Knock, Knock.”

You yelped when you heard someone banging on your front door.

Shit. Wrong move.

You pull out a metal bat under the counter like you knew this would gonna happen and check around, especially every closed door inside the house. You already watched too many horror movies with Randy that you even know where the killer always comes out from.

“I ask you want more time. What the hell do you want from me?”

“You wanna know, you have to play the game with me.”

You jumped when you heard another banging. And this time, at your backyard.

“Knock. Knock.”

You gulped and took a glimpse at your back. As you saw nobody's there, you pressed your back on the wall and focused on the front door.

“Who’s there?”

You make sure all the doors and windows are already locked as your father went out training with his buddies. He says he will be coming home late.  

Double. Shit.

“Johnny.” 

You innerly scoffed. Oh he likes this game too much. 

“Johnny where?”

“Clever girl. Guess.”

You rushed to the front door and took a look outside from the window. No one was there. You blurted out the answer.

“The backyard.”

“Wrong.”

You shrieked as the sound of a crash came out from the living room. You ran there to see a big gape hole at your now shattered window. You scanned the whole room. Only one wooden chair and shattered glass all over the floor. 

He couldn’t make it inside that fast. You raised the phone as you heard his voice.

“I give you a second chance. Knock, knock.”

“Oh fuck you with your knock knock shit game! What do you want from me?!”

“I want you…to ride me.”

You inhaled sharply at his answer as you turned around with a bat raised in front of you. 

“You’re messing with the wrong person here.” You spitted. He chuckled mockingly, amazed that you still have a bit of spite even though you know you're about to lose the game.

“You should be asking where I am, (Y/N).” He enunciated your name deeply.

Sweat trickle down your temple as you took a step back one at the time. This stranger knowing your name just shot up your nerve haywire.

“Where the fuck are you shithead.” 

“Behind you.”

You turned around and hit the phone right to the side of his face.

His Ghostface leather mask to be exact. 

He covered his head from the hit with his gloved hand and you took that opportunity to bash his head with your metal bat. He doubles in pain as you hit his back with more force and knocks his feet to the floor. He lay on his back, gripping his back painfully as you stepped on his body.

“Now let’s see who's behind the mask.”

Before you could bend down to grab his mask, the air got knocked out from you as someone rammed from your side. Your head got slam on the floor hard followed by a body that stumbled right above you. 

There’s two of them?!

You tried to pry him off from you but it was no use. You could see from your blurred vision that two masked men were now crowded right in front of you. 

The first guy above your head took both of your hands and held them tight, giving out a painful moan from you, while the other one sat on top of your low waist between his thighs, securing your legs from moving.

You tried to trash your body only to feel a sharp knife under your throat. You looked up to see the second guy shaking his head. 

A warning.

“Looks like you lost the game.” Second ghostface seems satisfied seeing you beneath him. The knife in his hand trailed lower and lower to your neck. You could feel a prick of pain as the knife cut deep at your collarbone.

“Losers need to pay the price.” The first ghostface giggled, bringing out a rope from his black robe and tied your hand above your head.

“Two against one? Really fair, does it?” You gritted your teeth. Even though you’re already at their mercy, your mouth still runs like a goddamn sailor.

“Didn’t know this should be a fair game.” Second ghostface shrugged, still lingering his knife around your neck area. 

“So what? You gonna kill me?” 

“Careful, you shouldn’t challenge a killer with a knife. Now you said it, that does sound tempting.” The killer dragged down his knife to your waist. The cold of his blade sent chills down your spine as it put pressure on your stomach, emphasizing his words.

You gulped as you eyed the two ghostface. The one that sat on top of you seems like a person you don’t want to mess with. The way his voice held authority, meaning if he wants to kill you, he’ll make sure you’re good as dead. Even though he’s wearing a mask, you could feel his hot gaze on your throat to your collarbone that already bleed out from the small cut. His gloved hand reached out, smearing your oozing blood with his thumb. He loves it, you can tell.    

Another one above your head, however he's a different kind of persona. He seems to like goofing around and having fun stabbing his victim. More sadistic, more of an unhinged bastard. If he takes his mask off, you bet he'll be that funny, easy going guy. His head tilted to the side, staring at your body in awe. Like you'll become his biggest meal tonight.

"But since you beat my friend here, I'll give you a chance. If you want to live, you need to do something for me." He hinted at the end of his sentence. The first Ghostface started to laugh hysterically. 

Somehow you know what he meant, knowing what they're gonna do to you.

"What do you mean?" You shuddered.

In a split second, he pulled your body and switched position, making you on top of him. You could feel the bulge between your legs as his hands gripped your waist.

"You know what I meant."

Your whole body shivered in fear and excitement. You don’t know why your body react that way. Fear, yes but also excites you?

You already soaked in your panties, though it was the adrenaline of the chase.

You subtly rubbed yourself on his groin. He sighed in content as you kept rubbing his hard on. 

“That’s it, babe.” His breath ragged as both his hands moved your hips and pressed deeper to his crotch. His hips thrust to your core, making you let out a soft moan. 

You feel someone's hand held the back of your head, turning you to meet the first Ghostface. His gloves were already gone from both hands, as he’s working on to half-done his zipper jeans.

“Open your mouth, kitten." He slipped his thumb, pressing your lips to open. He inserted two fingers in and out as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. They were so long that you gagged as it reached at the back of your throat. When he pulled out his fingers, a string of saliva coated them.

“I’ve never done this before.” Your face was red, embarrassing to admit that you never had sex before.

“We know you’re a virgin.” He whispered. His thumb stroking your lower lip, his mask titled to the side.

“Don't worry about that. We promise to make you feel good, m'okay?" The Ghostface under you sat up, his hand tugged teasingly at your waistband while the other one caressed your cheek. His deep voice is surprisingly tender, luring you in like a moth to his flame.

Without thinking, you nodded at his words.

Beneath those masks, their smirk grew wider, finally getting you hooked with them. 

"Lift your hips for me, baby." 

He tore his gloves from his hands and guided your hips upward. As you stand on your knees, he tugged down your shorts and panties in one go. You gasped at how rough, desperate he wanted to strip you naked. 

He took out his knife and started to rip them in half. You shiver from the cold as your clothes discard aside.

A pair of hands from behind reach out to your breast and fondle them. You whimpered as he pulled and squeezed your nipples. Another hand slipped to your wet cunt, thumb circling your clit.

"Gosh, your pussy is so wet for us. We're just getting started." He mused. Slowly, he inserted two fingers inside you, thumb still rubbing your clit. You shuddered, your back laid on someone's chest, who still continued grasping your breast.

"Look at you, seeking pleasure from two psychotic serial killers. Ain't ya a dirty little slut." The one from behind cackled in manic, enjoying seeing you completely vulnerable for him.

You subconsciously ride your hips with his fingers inside you, reaching your high. Your tied arms pressed in front of his chest as his friend from behind starts to dry hump your ass. You could imagine how big their dicks are, one pressing from the back while the other one underneath your pussy, still finger fuck you.

As if they knew you're about to come, he pulled out his fingers. You let out a small whine, feeling the loss of your pussy to be filled. He dip his finger beneath his mask, groaning in pleasure as he tasted your juices with a mix of blood.

Your hair got clutched from behind and dived you to his tent. When he pulled down his boxer, you were awestruck at how thick and veiny his hard rod is. He tapped his dick on your mouth, precum smeared at your lower lips.

"Like what you see?" He chuckled, seeing you looking at his cock like that got him more turned on. 

You flustered, eyeing the two black holes resemble eyes staring at you, silently to gain his permission. He nodded, pushing his tip further into your lips.

You subtly open your mouth, licking his precum and heard his deep groan in return. This made you sucked and licked his tip and moved your hand up and down his length.

He tilted his head back. Though you couldn't see with his mask on, a sense of pride grew in you, pleased to see him feel that way.

"You're sure this is your first time? Fuck, this feels amazing." He bucked his hips in your mouth.

"Open your mouth wide open, tongue down. I'm a deep throat till you swallow all of my cum." You do as he said. He thrust his dick deep in your throat, making you gagged but you held it in. 

He fucked your mouth relentless, both his hands keeping you in place. Tears pooling down your face as saliva spilling from your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You tapped his thigh, coughing up when he pulled out his dick from your swollen lips.

You're too focused on the man in front of you, that your ass was raised in the air and gasped as you felt a tongue licking at your entrance.

"Damn I can eat this pussy all day." He growled from behind, licking and biting your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tongue does wonders to you. 

You gagged as he pounds in and out of your mouth, while from behind a tongue lick deep in your entrance. His nose teasing your clit, earning you a moan vibrating through the dick in your mouth. Both of them release low moans, reaching their high.

You tap his thigh, pull you away from his dick as you feel a knot in your stomach.

"I-I some-something d-down there." You cried out, feel his friend's wet tongue thrust in and out of your cunt. You gasped from sensation, as he's licked your rim hole.

"Then cum all over his mouth, princess. Let him taste every drop." He strokes his dick as you stick your tongue out to his tip. You feel your release as the man behind lapping your juices clean.

"God, she tastes so good. I wanna fuck her wet cunt till she's scream."

The killer in front of you didn't say a word, staring at his friend 

"You can't have her. She beat you up, remember?"

"The fuck that's supposed to mean? We won, she lost."

"Correction, you get beat to a pulp and I'm the one stopping it. So, I get the prize and you just, I don't know. Enjoy the show?"

"I'm already hard and you’re telling me just to watch you all over her? Hell no man!" 

They way they're talking about you like you aren't there bothers you, but at the same time kind of hot.

You could tell his friend was frustrated, agitated while him with you on his lap stroking his tip to your folds. You whimpered as he nudged his face mask closer to your neck. You could feel his wet tongue licking and sucking at the cut he gave you. 

Deep down you know your choice terrifies you but you don't want his friend left behind.

"There's two holes for a reason, ya know." You mumbled low, but somehow both killers caught on to what you said. They both were stunned. Not long after, the one you sit on his lap snickered darkly.

"You're one dirty little virgin. Didn't know you're into that." He gripped your hips closer to his already hard crotch. You blushed at his indication.

Truth is, you stumbled upon a porn magazine from Stu's wardrobe, asking you for his sweatpants as he was in the bathroom. Curiosity kills you when you open the magazine, the page showed a blond woman penetrated by two men, dick in her cunt while another in her ass.

The image haunted you yet deep down you want to know how it feels like, to get banged by two. As you stare at her lustful face, you jump when you hear Billy's voice from outside Stu's room. So, you threw away the magazine and hastily grabbed his shorts. When Billy enters the room, he stares at you intensely. He always does every time you're in his sight. He raised an eyebrow as you gave the shorts, muttered, "Give it to Stu, he wants it." and you made a mad dash out of his room.

You know for the fact that the chances you're getting DP is slim to none. But seeing as of now, your fuzzy brain was like why not.

"You're an angel, you know that? That's why you're perfect for us." The frustrated Ghostface was now like he's in cloud nine when you told him that, hugging you from behind.

"You're meant for us, (Y/N). Remember that." The one with you on his lap was now laying down on the floor, bringing you with him so that your pussy was placed right on his outstretched cock. As his tip penetrated your entrance, you whimpered as the slight discomfort got you. As your tied arms gripped the black cloth of his front, his hand teasing your clit, trying to distract you from the pain.

As he is completely inside you, the discomfort was replaced slowly with pleasure, fullness from his thick length. His sighed in relief, loving his dick snug deep in your pussy like a vice.

"Fuck you're so tight, baby." He rasped as he helped adjust his length inside you. When he felt you ready, he slowly thrust in and out of you, making you moan.

"You like that? You like riding this cock?" His slow thrust became erratic as he rammed your throbbing cunt. Your mouth gaped open, couldn't reform words when he hit you at the right spot. 

"Y-yes, right there. Shit! You're so big." You uttered breathlessly, bouncing his dick as he thrust deeper in you. 

As you ride him, you feel another one trying to penetrate your asshole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, stopping you as he continued to push in, hissing at your shoulder.

"S-shit! My cock gonna cut in half if you keep squeezing me like that." He buried his face on your neck as he roughly thrust you in one go, making you scream.

"M'sorry babe. Can't help it."

You try to glare at his face, or more precisely his mask. You could imagine his stupid grin, staring at you adoringly. 

This is too much. For you, a virgin and never been fuck let alone anal, this is a lot to take in. You could feel their dicks stretched inside every hole of you down there. You try adjusting to this new stimulation. They’re both moving in sync, in and out of you, feeling both of their dicks rubbing your wall one at the time. It makes you see stars as they fasten their phase.

Skin slapping filled the room, with your moan and their groan in a mix.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’mma cum!” You feel his hand gripping your hips as his thrust turns sloppy. Your body started to shake as the one beneath encircled his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest as he slammed you hard on your g-spot. 

You nearly scream from pleasure as orgasm washed over you, followed by the one behind, pumping his seed into your throbbing asshole. Your pussy tightens is all it needs from the one beneath you to paint his cum on your walls. 

He gave his one hard, second thrust at your asshole then pulled out his softened cock. The way he stared at his cum spilling from your ass stirred something inside him.

His fingers subconsciously slipped his overflow cum inside your hole. For some reason, he doesn’t want a single drop of his seed leaking out of you.

You take a deep inhale as your eyes flutter close, trying to calm from your euphoric state. You could hear his heartbeat thumping as your head laid on his chest, with him too catching his breath.

The only thing you remember is feeling a peck on your forehead and a kiss from your nape, with a deep raspy voice you manage to hear before exhaustion overtook your body.

“That’s my good girl.”

After you pass out…

“Man, that’s the best thing happen in my life!” Stu sighed, satisfied as he pulled off his Ghostface mask and slipped in his now soft dick in his pants. He looked over at his friend who was still lying on the ground with their favorite girl on top of him.

“You're lucky I came up with this plan. Knew it our girl had same fantasies like us.” He grinned, smiling like an idiot, while Billy too slowly took off the mask.

“If you didn’t pull out that porn magazine, she wouldn’t even think about it, genius.” He murmured as he stroked your arm. He sighed in relief with his eyes closed, hearing your soft snores calmed him.

Maybe they could pay you another visit, and it will be on nice bed this time.

And sure as hell he'll make sure of that.

#billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #poly ghostface x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #scream 1996 #scream fanfic