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#ransom x child
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Brain dead au where Jason was planning on pulling a Bruce.
Only to see Tim pulling the cowl equivalent of goo goo eyes during the middle of an Arkham breakdown.
Ahh hell..
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Jason, dumping a bucket of water on a chained up Tim: RISE AND SHINE TIMBIT!! IT’S TIME FOR A CHAT!
Tim jolts awake: wha- Jason?? What the f- why?
Jason casually circles around Tim: Quite simple Replacement! You’re fucking with my plans again and quite frankly neither of us like it when we have to have this little chat.
Tim: I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You know Alfred isn’t going to approve of the theatrics-
Jason: DON’T BRING ALFIE INTO THIS! Besides I think he would be quite proud of me right now. Using my words, he’s been trying to get Bruce to do the same thing since he was eight.
Tim: look I haven’t been trying to fuck with anything-
Jason: oh contrary little Timmers! Blue eyes black hair. Occasionally green and white. Nearly beats Dickie in wordplay and somehow has befriended the demon brat well enough that he has the honor of first name basis.*whirls around to glare at Tim* You are not as fucking slick as you think you are.
Tim:….
Jason: So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go home and nap. Get at least six hours and then clean up. Choose something nice to wear and ask him out. Treat him like a fucking gentleman and stay off everything but emergency coms. AM I CLEAR?
Tim: c-crystal..
Jason: good. I was planning on pulling a simple Bruce on him and all that but if this works out than I don’t even need to do any of the heavy lifting. But if this doesn’t than I’m letting you know that you are not going to enjoy any of the family dinners afterwards.
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kining-the-evil · 1 year
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Hi
I was wondering if you could write a Random Drysdale x daughter reader??
Like Ransom took his toddler to a family dinner and while he was there she got really tired, so he picked her up and she fell asleep in his arms. The entire family is shocked that the spoiled playboy has a soft spot for his little girl because never in a million years did they think Ransom would be the one comforting a sleepy toddler.
Thank you
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An: i have not written something for this blog in so fucking long. I hope you like this though!
Warnings: other then swearing there are none.
Ransom fucking hated family dinners. His family was full of pricks, and there were a million things he would rather do then spend his evening with them. But his grandfather wanted him there- or more that he wanted to see his daughter.
“Come on y/n! We’ve got to go!” Ransom called walking towards the little girls room. He found her sitting on the floor playing with a tea set. “Y/n, we need to leave or we will be late,” he sighed. She glanced up at him, a smile on her face.
“Ok daddy!” She jumped up, but instead of the door she ran to her bed and grabbed the small purple blanket she always wanted to take with her. He really did try to break the habit with you, but he didn’t ever fight it at family dinners. No point in making you more miserable.
“Come on,” he once again told her. She ran past him and towards the door, and once he opened the door she were quick to the car. He simply opens the back door and watched her climb into her car seat.
The drive was quick, and soon enough the pulled in front of the large house. His mom was standing out on the porch, a cigarette in her mouth. He pulled you out of the car before setting her down and letting her run towards the house.
“Hi Linda!” Y/n called out cheerful, and Random had to hold back his laughter.
“You need to teacher not to call me that,” his mother snapped at him, but he just pushed past her. “And you’re late!”
Ransom pushed the door open, and y/n quickly ran past him.
“Grandpa!” She squealed while running towards Harlan.
“Well hello there!” He didn’t lean down to her, but he did rub her back as she hugged his leg. “Nice to see you Ransom.” All Harlan received was a small grunt as Ransom pushed past him.
—————
“What are you laughing at asshole?” Walt snapped when he caught sight of Ransom’s smirk.
“Oh, nothing Walt. Just listening to your son get yelled at.” Ransom couldn’t help the smile as he watched the man’s face tern completely red.
“That’s unnecessary.” Joni cut in, glaring at Ransom.
“Your daughter is the one yelling at him!” Richard snapped at his daughter in law, which just launched everyone into another fight.
Ransom glanced beside him when he heard soft footsteps coming towards him. Y/n was next to him, her blanket pulled tightly to her face.
“I thought you were playing with Marta?” He asked, watching as she rubbed her face. She simply shook her head, and he could tell she was getting tired. “Come here,” he sighed as he picked her up. She quickly made herself comfortable on his lap, digging her face into his neck. He rubbed her back lightly, making sure she had He blanket.
He glanced up, noticing the quiet that had come over his family. All of them were staring at him. “What?” He grunted, staring right back.
“What the fuck was that?” Walt asked.
“What was What?”
“That,” Linda pointed to where y/n was sat.
“I picked my daughter up.” Ransom felt like he was missing something that everyone else was getting.
“I didn’t think you had it in you.” Ransom glared up at his mother before standing up while keeping y/n in his arms.
“That’s fair. You didn’t give me the best model,” he snapped before walking to leave. They all let him go, and the only person he stoped for was Harlan.
“Say bye to your grandfather,” he mumbled as he bumped y/n with his shoulder a bit. She turned her head, waving at him while mumbling a goodbye.
“Have a good night darling,” Harlan ruffled her hair a bit before letting the two leave.
“Assholes,” Ransom mumbled, causing y/n to look up.
“Assholes?”
“Don’t say that,” he sighed while putting her into her car seat. “Unless your talking about them. Then it’s ok.” He winked, causing her to giggle at him.
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babyjakes · 2 years
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softie | like father, like daughter. [blurb.]
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
series masterlist
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event | stuffies for all
summary | when sheepy needs a run through the wash, ransom lets georgia borrow his own little friend for the day.
pairing | soft!dad!ransom drysdale x georgia pine (oc)
warnings | georgia also being the sweetest little friend, sheepy gets some food spills and has to face the dreaded washer, soft!ransom, just so fucking cute it hurts, kind of hurt/comfort vibes
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“Oh Georgie, it’s okay-” Ransom soothes as he crouches down beside the little girl, his heart breaking a bit in his chest at the sight of her wide bambi eyes overflowing with tears. “It was just an accident, sweetheart. It’s alright. Here,” he murmurs, collecting the child’s toy from her hands into his own as she struggles to swallow down her sobs.
“D-didn’ mean to,” the girl whimpers as she eyes her prized Sheepy, whose tummy is now covered in sticky strawberry jam.
“I know you didn’t, sweetie. It’s okay, we’re gonna get Sheepy all washed up and he’ll be good as new, yeah? Just gotta toss him in the washer real fast; he’ll be done and dry by bedtime tonight.” Nodding with wide eyes, little Georgia follows her father as he takes her hand, guiding her to the washing machine in the closet next to the main-floor washroom.
“Here we go, Georgie. Look, I’ve got a nice little bag he can sit in so he’s all safe in the machine, okay?” Ransom shows the child as he crouches down once more, letting her help him place the beloved toy in the delicates bag before zipping it up. “And we’ll put plenty of those detergent beads you like so much in there, the ones that smell like sugar cookies, remember?” Georgia nods as she watches her daddy toss the bag and the beads in the bottom machine, her eyes widening as it roars to life after the pressing of a few buttons. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He’s just getting a nice bath in there,” the man reassures her as he brushes her puffy hair back away from her face, hating the sight of her so upset.
“Oh- and you know what? I think I know someone else who could keep you company 'til Sheepy’s cycles are done.” Taking the little girl’s hand once more, he leads her up to his bedroom, going into his large closet to retrieve one of the many cardboard boxes stacked along the top shelves beneath the ceiling.
Bringing the box back down to place on the floor in front of Georgia, Ransom opens it up, pulling out an old worn stuffed animal of his own, something he hasn’t taken out since it was stuffed away so long ago at the end of his childhood. “Georgia, meet Lamby.”
With wide eyes, the girl accepts the small animal in her hands, her eyes drying up as she sniffles away the last of her tears. “Lamby,” she repeats, her gaze trailing carefully over the light-grey fabric.
“That’s right, he’s a little guy just like your Sheepy. Seems like maybe I was a lot like you when I was little,” Ransom chuckles as he takes in the wonderful sight of his daughter holding his life-long best friend. Wrapping the lamb up in her arms, Georgia gives him a big hug, nestling her nose against the toy’s fluff.
“Smells like Daddy,” she hums softly, her eyes getting a little droopy as she clings to the stuffie.
“Yeah? I bet he does, we spent many nights snuggled up for bedtime. Many naps, too. And speaking of, looks like it’s just about time for yours, little lady,” Ransom smiles gently as he scoops the small girl up along with the stuffed animal, his heart swelling in his chest as she snuggles up into his shoulder. “By the time you get up, Sheepy will be switched into the dryer.”
“Can’t wait for him to meet Lamby,” Georgia mumbles as she tucks her thumb in her mouth, struggling to blink to keep herself away. “Gonna be bes’ friends. Daddy, Lamby, Sheepy, 'n me.”
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I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS CONTENT here
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THE ANGST of it all I AM OFFICIALLY OBSESSED
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CAN WE TALK ABOUT how he kept going back and forth to the door...after SHE LEFT OMG in front of his wife and child
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satorusdiary · 10 months
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hot rich dilf + babysitter reader
dilf! toji fushiguro x reader Mafia AU
age gap (reader is 21, toji is 39) + smut & fluff + reader is in college + toji is a rich man who lives a dangerous life
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toji fushiguro.
the biggest mafia boss around Japan, a single dad, with one kid. he is also living in one of the most beautiful houses in Japan. the richest neighborhoods around on the hills, where no one is able to see it well.
whenever you would hear, see, or look at that name wherever you are in the city all you think about is hot, rich dilf.
it’s wrong to think of that, especially when you were the babysitter for his son. yet, toji couldn’t risk the dangers of his son being taken cared of in a public daycare; where anyone can take him and possibly use him as ransom.
that’s why he has you, his personal baby sitter. the young, beautiful woman who is still in college, taking care of his child. something his ex whore of a wife couldn’t do.
whenever you get a text whilst taking classes, your heart skips a beat and your thighs clench together at who the message is from.
Toji sent 1:23 pm
Hey, y/n. I’m sorry for the sudden message, is it alright if you babysit megumi around 4? I have important things to take care of at work.
he is a dangerous man, yet you would never back down taking care of his child. you are putting yourself in major risks, but whenever you would see toji’s frame holding megumi on his hip you think differently.
megumi is a different story, he is a splitting image of his father besides the scars. he’s a sweet boy, kind and respectful to you, and would constantly always want you over to his fathers house.
you enjoy his company, him and his father.
You sent 1:25 pm
of course, not a problem! my classes are ending so i’ll be able to be there by the time you’re about to leave.
Toji sent 1:25 pm
Great, thank you so much. I will double your payment for being able to take care of Megumi during a school day. Thank you again.
not to mention, how good the payment is! by the end of the day you are able to pay 3 months worth of rent for your apartment. there is never a time where you never have left over money for yourself.
you always think it’s a mistake by how much he pays you, how delusional you were missing all the signs he has given you.
the amount of times he would wink at you, with that sexy smirk on his scarred lips. the way he would love you out the way with a hand on your waist, carefully pushing you to the side.
and the way he gives you cheek kisses, saying it’s a friendly greeting towards everyone when he knows damn well he doesn’t kiss anyone’s cheek besides yours and megumis.
his hopes continue, his hopes in you falling for him continue to increase.
toji will always protect you, and megumi. even if you are just a baby sitter, to him you were more than that.
he appreciates the time you put in for his son, and for him. and he appreciates how you always manage to come to his house earlier than expected just to take care of megumi.
toji approaches you with a tight black suit, one that hugs his muscular frame insanely well. your thighs rub against each other without you noticing.
something that wants your heart is when he hold megumis hand, whilst approaching you. it’s cute and wholesome.
“megs, you be good for y/n okay? i’ll be back in a bit.” toji kisses megumis forehead, letting go of his hand before making his way towards you with a small, but seductive grin.
like always, he kisses your cheek before saying a word to you. your stomach has butterflies fluttering around, he continues to sweet talk you.
it’s funny, how could such a dangerous man who does unthinkable things everyday warm your heart in such a way?
“thank you so much, again y/n. here is the money, please be safe and help yourself around the house.” his green eyes pierce through your e/c eyes. his hands giving you a stack of money, more than usual.
your eyes widened, it’s too much. it’s almost as if you depend on him too much with the amount of money he gives you for what, just a few hours of you taking care of megumi?
"mr fushiguro, i cannot accept this. why are you handing me so much?" you questioned, looking up at his tall frame.
he shakes his head and chuckles, pushing your hand that was holding the money closer to your chest.
"its for you, and your hard work. don't question it, you deserve it sweetheart." the pet name slips out, but he has no shame in calling you that. you are his sweetheart after all.
before you could say anything else, he continues on. and continues to make you flustered with his words, and expressions.
"oh, and y/n dear, call me toji. no need to be so formal when you have done so much for me, and my son." he caresses your cheek before brushing past you, grabbing his hat and work jacket from the coat hanger.
"..thank you, so much toji! i will forever appreciate everything you have done for me sir." you smile up at him, waving him goodbye before he is out the door.
"not a problem, dear. you both take care, be back inna bit." he closes the door. the smile on your face hasn't left, and the fast speed of your hear beating increases as you lock the door with its additional locks.
you snap out of your joyful thoughts when megumi embraces you with his small, slightly chubby arms. they close around your waist as he looks up from your stomach with a heart warming smile.
"why cant you just get with my dad, y/n? he likes you soo much, and you treat us so well." he frowns, eyes glossy and filled with adortion.
your heart weeps, his stare makes you double think everything. what if you did get with toji?
"megs.. i don't think he likes me like that sweetheart. and its okay! its okay just being your baby sitter." you pick him up, placing him on your hip while you walk towards his play area. it was clean, free of toys scattered everywhere in the room.
"you're so wrong! i know he likes you a lot. he kisses your cheek, and forehead like me! that means he loves you." the word that holds so much power, and strength over anyone slips from his lips. yet he doesn't try to apologize and make it out as a mistake.
"not only that, but you are like a mommy to me. better than the other one, don't leave tonight. please y/n!" he cries out, hugging you as tight as he can.
you look down at him, sitting on the bed with a sad expression. you never knew how much megumi had actually cared for you. and it amazed you how good he was able to speak as a 4 year old.
"megumi,' you start off, watching as he looks up at you with teary eyes.
"i'll see if i could stay tonight, but just for tonight!" you tell him, his lips automatically curl into a big smile, before he kisses you on the cheeks. the same way his father does.
"yay! thanks y/n. now can we play, please?" he slips out of your embrace and begins pulling out toys from his drawer, handing you a big car which you take from his small hands.
"sure, megumi. if you want, ill take you to the park after?" you question and get on your knees, getting down to his level so you would be able to play properly.
he nods his head repeatedly, you wonder if his cheeks every get tired from smiling so much.
"yes! thank you y/n, you're the best!"
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the day goes by fast, now you are sitting on megumi's bed, tucking him in before he goes to sleep.
"y-you're gonna stay tonight, right y/n?" the little boy questions, turning to look at you. the only source of light was the hallway lights, through the opened door.
you stay silent for a few seconds, giving him a hopeful smile that would make him feel better.
"i'll see, i still have to check in with your dad." you replied. deep down you knew you wouldn't stay over, especially when you knew it would be pretty weird to stay over at your bosses house, just for his kid over night.
you would just have to make up a lie by tomorrow, apologizing to the younger boy on why you couldn't stay over.
i'll say i had classes! yeah that is a good excuse. you thought to yourself.
"okay.. goodnight y/n." megumi utters, smiling before he closes his eyes and drifts off the sleep.
you stay in the same position, watching him peacefully drift off with his hand loosely around yours. after a few minutes, you knew you had to go home.
"bye megs.." you whisper, kissing his head before standing up from his bed, walking towards the outside of his bedroom.
you sighed and began walking down the hallway, towards the exit of the home.
“you’re not gonna stay the night?” a voice startles you, making your turn around with a hand over your heart.
“toji-san! w-when did you get home?” you nervously laughed, and breathed in heavily as he walked towards you.
your heart jumps to your throat as he looks down at you, the tension was high.
his hand reaches your shoulder, squeezing and rubbing over it seductively. a smirk appearing on his features, that stupid sexy smirk that makes your pussy heat up.
“don’t mind that darling. as i said, you’re not gonna stay the night? thought you wanted to be with megs?” the smirk turns into a small frown, making you rethink on why you were going to leave in the first place.
“‘m sorry.. i-i just didn’t think you would be comfortable with it.” you admitted, looking up at him with guilty eyes.
your hand clutches your tote bag, the both of you stay in silence before he speaks up. a kiss being left on your forehead, it drowns out the guilty feeling and lights up your features.
“it’s fine sweets. y’want to talk for a bit and have dinner together? i don’t mind you staying over, megumi has a strong liking for you.” he waits for a response.
it’s almost embarrassing to you how fast you nodded your head, yet toji chuckles at how dedicated you were towards the offer.
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you did not go home that night, as expected. but what happened was something you never thought would happen at all.
you thought you would be in your own bedroom, but here you were. face flat onto toji’s pillows, and him behind you groping your body in many ways. his cock drilling inside your plush, tight pussy.
“you’re so beautiful, my love.” his words continue to make you cry, both ways. he flips you over so his hand would be able to wrap around your breast, and the other caressing your head as you take all of him inside of you.
“daddy— ‘s so good!” you cry out, mind getting foggy as you look at him with the most love and adoration expression he could ever make out. his heart melts.
he shuts you up with a kiss, tongues clashing together as his hands roam around your love handles, squeezing and slapping them.
you moan into the kiss, it’s muffled but he was able to hear it clearly. the sound was music to his ears, making him slam into you rougher and deeper, his cock abusing your g-spot.
you were just too beautiful, too pure for him. he couldn’t resist you. the day he met you in a coffee shop he knew he wanted you, and you would become his.
“shh, baby. can’t forget gumi is sleeping, hm?” he hums, pulling away from your pouty, swollen lips.
“sorry.. ‘jus feels too good. love your cock s’ much tojii.” you moan once again. your hand interlaces with his bigger hands, pinning you down on his large bed.
“i know, sweet girl. you almost needa cum?” he coo’s into your ear, large, muscular hand going down onto your stomach. your womb filled with toji’s hot seed.
you whine, nodding repeatedly and look up at him with desperate eyes. sobs leave your mouth, the bubbly feeling in your stomach begging to be released.
“please! need t’ cum, lemme cum daddy.. please!” you beg over and over, it’s adorable to him. the way you’re so desperate for him, and his cock. even if it’s bullying your insides.
arousal floods into your insides, the way toji lowly groans on top of you makes you see the stars.
“cum with me, my dear.” he moans out, hands gripping at your waist as he continues to slams you down on his veiny, hard, big cock.
just like that, you realease all over him. you hadn’t even notice you squirted. the feeling of toji filling you to the brim once again made your eyes foggy, filled with tears. thankfully toji was there to wipe away any tears left.
hot cum continues to spurt into your pussy, the feeling of your walls clenching over his cock so well makes toji’s feelings for you grow stronger.
“my beautiful, princess.” he whispers through heavy breathes. your heart beating even faster as his hands cup your jaw, pulling you into another heated kiss.
“starting now, you’re mine. my little girl.”
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angrythingstarlight · 2 months
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Okay, i know this isn't possible, but what if a careless parent accidently take little Bee home with them because his child dressed up similarly. I know it's so impossible cause she has bodyguards and amazing confidence to scream the house down, but like in this hypothetical situation, what could happen
I can't give an in-depth answer because I don't want to spoil the Ransom plotline. I will say that Bucky would immediately get his baby back. Immediately. Within the hour. The hapless parent better hope Malyshka is with Bucky when he comes to get his baby.
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee
WC: Drabble.
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In all fairness, two teddy bear suit-wearing toddlers were dressed alike, it didn't help they were just going with the flow when a distracted Abelli gets them mixed up.
They wave at each other as she picks up Bee and walks out of the classroom.
Bucky misses her by two minutes. His world crumbles at his feet. All because of two minutes.
Bucky's chest feels as if it's going to cave in from the sheer amount of stress and fear building around him.
Somewhere across town, Bee is in an escalade, sleeping with Mr. Tato under her arm. Bucky is threatening the staff at her expensive school. No one has answers fir his very simple question. Where is she?
Bee wakes up, happy after finding a crayon under her leg and an unopened bag of veggie straws next to her.
Bucky calls in every enforcer, soldier, and contact he has. Worry sharpening his voice. Thoughts racing. What ifs piling up.
Bucky has no idea she's dancing to a song on the radio. Or that Bee just asked Mrs. Abelli if she can talk to her mama cause she has "two secrets to tell her".
Mrs. Abelli almost crashed her car when she looked in the rear view mirror.
Bucky's men are all around the city all with orders to bring his baby home. No one wants to let him down. They won't.
Mrs. Abelli tries not to panic as she calls her husband to let him that she has the boss's daughter in her backseat.
Bucky doesn't say anything when he gets the call that Bee is safe. Doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Every part of him grinds to a halt, processing her words.
She has his daughter. Accident. Didn't notice. Sorry. Mr. Barnes I, I'm sorry. She's here.
The stuttering Mrs. Abelli prays to every deity she knows that you're the one that's picking Bee up. She's not so lucky. You're at her front door. In less than ten minutes. So is your husband. He's standing behind you, his face etched with a cold, detached fury that's paralyzing to everyone around him.
Except Bee who's bouncing to her mama to show her the drawing she made while waiting. She doesn't understand why you're crying but she loves the extra tight hug and all the kisses you're planting on her rounded cheeks. The soft sound of her giggles breaks Bucky out of his stupor and keeps him from advancing on the Abellis.
He promises to talk with them in private.
The implication doesn't need to be put in words.
You reassure them that they'll be fine, you understand it was an honest mistake. Doesn't take away the fear lingering in your veins like a bad hangover. But you understand.
Later you make him promise that he won't do anything to them. He swears he won't. Neither of you believe him. You'll try again. Later. When he's not so frantic, scrambling for purchase that's out of reach.
That pressure in his chest releases like a broken dam when he takes Bee from your arms. He's holding her too tight. He knows. He can't let go. He can breathe. She's safe. She's safe. She's safe and he can finally breathe. He doesn't let her go for hours. She doesn't mind. Being held by her Papa is one of her favorite things in this world. Even she has to wiggle an arm loose.
She doesn't go back to school for nearly a month. Instead splitting her time between her office and his. While Bee basks in the extra attention, Bucky finds it hard to let go of the fear that creeps up, drowning him when she's out of sight for too long.
He keeps his word about the Abellis. But he made it clear that if anything ever happened again, he wouldn't be so forgiving.
It's a shame Ransom didn't listen when he was cautioned against going after Bumblebee and her mama.
Unfortunately for them, when he gets his hands on them it won't be an accident.
And Bucky might not get so lucky the second time around. He might not get a second chance next time.
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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months
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I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys
Summary:  Ransom always gets what he wants.  Even if he has to wait.
Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader
Rating:  Explicit
Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY
Word Count:  3.6K
Ransom Drysdale Masterlist
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Your dad looks at the rear view mirror.  Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate.  You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view.  Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion.  And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.  
Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”
“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes.  He was so predictable.  Expected perfection from you.  Because you reflected on him.
“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes.  There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what.  Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.  
“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick.  She was more of a friend than a mother.  She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive.  It was like the two of you had grown up together.  And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.
He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything.  He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’.  You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up.  They didn’t need help in the kitchen.  Everything was already outside.  But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to.  And now you wait.
——
Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face.  He was told that you were home from Harvard.  He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack.  From the kitchen.  Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen.  He must have been quieter than he had thought.  You hadn’t noticed him.
Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward.  Right at the table.  A soft little whimper is music to his ears.  He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.
“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly.  Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him.  You have never been more embarrassed in your life.
“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table.  Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen.  “Wait.  I’m not finished talking to you.  If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”
“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated?  Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?
“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt.  Come on, I wanna see.  Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick.  “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.
“I’m sorry, Ransom.  I…”
“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees?  What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”
Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames.  He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t.  You mustn’t.  “You know who.”
“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago.  You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”
“I — I had sex like you asked.  I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated.  You followed his instructions perfectly.  Listened to every word.  “I…”
“And you’re still a needy fucking thing.  What is that you want?  You want to suck my fat cock?”
“Yes!  Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk.  Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.  
You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no.  Show me what you were doing just a minute ago.  But hold your skirt up.  I wanna watch.  Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table.  Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany.  Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.
“There ya go.  I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm?  You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”
“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.
“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”
“Yeah.  Yes!”
“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward.  Getting so close that you're panting out his name.  Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut.  Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.
Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is.  Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him.  Circling your tongue around his thick digits.  Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.
“Now, let's go say hey to your dad.  I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs.  Stay wet and messy,�� he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are.  Nothing left to do but follow him outside.  
——
Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn.  He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you.  He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious.  It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself.  Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm.  It was unfair.
Grunting, you stomp back inside.  Needing to get something to drink.  Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower.  Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you.  And the worst part was he knew!  He knew that he was driving you crazy.
“Did I make you mad, Princess?”
“You’re making me crazy!  I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew.  You knew what you were doing when…”
“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no.  Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you.  Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear.  Sniffing up the side of your neck.  His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”
“What?” What was his game?  What did he want from you?
“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess.  It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth.  Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside.  He wasn’t serious.  The window was right there.  Your dad was right there.  With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.  
“You want my cock?  Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you.  Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.  
His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck.  My.  Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there.  You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”
“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth.  You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs.  Rolling your eyes up to look at him.  His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you.  You let him take control.  Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.
He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you.  His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells.  You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter.  His pelvis propelling into you more.
“No.  I think she had an upset stomach.  Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts.  Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you.  He glances back down to you.  Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.
“You think daddy can hear you gagging?  You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter.  Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal.  You are dripping wet.  Needy and ready to come.  Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck.  “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she?  You gonna be my little slut?  You gonna call me daddy instead?”
“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air.  Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up.  His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.
“Say it.  Call me daddy.  Tell me how bad you want my cock.  Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot.  I need to hear you say it.”
“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face.  Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth.  Stabbing into you so fast.  So deep he was making your throat bulge out.  And your body hunger for more air.
“Daddy’s gonna give it to you.  Almost there.  Gotta hurry.  Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut.  Taking this big fat cock like a good girl.  Uh!  Uh!  Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat.  You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom.  Your hips fuck down on him harder.  Getting right there…
“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.
“Ransom!  That’s not fair!  I want to come, too.”
“What did you call me?”
“Daddy!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs.  Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside.  Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile.  “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.  
“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.
“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly.  Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him.  “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere.  She was acting a bit delirious.”
Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”
“I’ve seen fireworks before.  Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right.  Must be all the excitement today.”
“Go upstairs, third door on the left.  There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly.  “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk.  He caught him spitting into your cunt.  He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.
“She fell, huh?” He asks.  His eyes darkening as he walks closer.  Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot.  You were messy.
“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p.  He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you.  Your daughter is clumsy.  She tends to make a mess, too.  Did you know she was a messy little thing?”
“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information.  Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.
“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom.  Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o.  Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out.  Flinging his head towards the door.  Wanting Ransom to follow.  He had no such plans.  He was going to fuck you during these fireworks.  “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”
“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”
“Touché.  Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”
“She fell, huh?  Is she going to fall again?”
“Yep.  Fall right on my dick.”
——
“You ready to come, Princess?  I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks.  Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him.  “There ya go.  You gonna show daddy what you learned in school?  I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”
“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work.  You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you.  Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming.  You wanted him.
“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you.  Sit on my lap.  Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom.  Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.  
Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip.  None of the boys from school felt like him.  None of them looked like him.  And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep.  Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”
“I know, Princess.  Daddy has such a big cock.  You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore.  I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip.  Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom.  Finally have him inside of you.  Something you have dreamed about for years.  “You feel me in your belly, honey?”
“Yeah.  But it feels good.”
“Yeah it does.  You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy?  You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom.  Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him.  Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him.  “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”
Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom.  His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble.  “Daddy!”
“I know, Princess.  Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy.  It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me.  My god, I don’t even think I can last.”
BOOM, “Daddy!”
“Tell me what you need, Princess.  Let daddy give it to you.”
BOOM!  POP!  “Daddy!”
“You keep getting louder.  They can’t hear you.  Tell daddy what you want.”
“Daddy!  I wanna come!  Daddy, let me come!”
“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach.  One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit.  “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”
“Yes!  Daddy, I wanna come!”
“Woah, woah.  I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend.  He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea.  Sick bastard.
“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying.  Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit.  His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers.  Everything felt good.  Every part of you feels so fucking good.  Your skin is buzzing with euphoria.  “Go on, Princess.  Come.  Daddy’s gonna let you come.”
“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling.  “Daddy!  Daddy I’m coming!  I’m coming!”  
“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip.  Squeezing me so fucking hard.  There, baby.  Keep riding daddy, yeah!  Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core.  Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him.  “Fuck me!”
“I believe she just did.  Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes.  “That was incredible.  How long have you two been fucking?”
“Just this once, Andy.  Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up.  You’re married.  Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”
“Quit calling her my daughter!  She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you.  You had him.  He was still in you.  He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.
“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her.  You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back.  “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs.  Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.  
They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp.  “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“She’s on birth control.  Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college.  Let me guess, that was your doing?”
“Yeah, I don’t do virgins.  They get attached too easily.  Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it.  Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”
“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes.  “Saw you destroying her pussy.”
“Just wait until I fuck her.  Mmm, my cock is getting hard again.  If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now.  Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress.  It’s too soon to share her.  You were supposed to just watch.”
Andy Barber never just watches.  He would fuck you too.  He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you.  Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”
“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh.  ‘Good girl’ written on the other.  “Princess, who owns your pussy?”
“You do, daddy.  That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile.  “It’s all daddy’s.  Whenever daddy wants it.”
“Daddy’s cumdump?”
“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.
“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”
“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door.  And you pout up at Ransom.
“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself.  My pretty little princess cumslut.”
“Just daddy’s.”
“Unless daddy wants to share?”
“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you.  His personal little sex toy.  One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with.  And showing off.  His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted.  And he would.  “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”
“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you.  “Okay, get some sleep, Princess.  You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”
“Right.  Shh.”
“I know.  Sleep.  Dream.  And I��ll be right here.”
Masterlist
Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @maroonsunrise83​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​ @harrysthiccthighss​
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krirebr · 4 months
Text
More Than This 1
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader
Word Count: ~4.1k
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 
“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.
“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 
You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.
“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”
Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 
“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 
“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”
Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 
“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”
At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”
Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.
He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 
“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.
Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 
Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 
You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.
When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”
At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.
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You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 
When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”
That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.
“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.
“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.
“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.
“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”
You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”
“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”
“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”
That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”
“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”
“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”
You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”
“He give you a name?”
“Ransom Drysdale.”
Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.
“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.
“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”
“But you don’t like him.”
“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”
“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”
You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”
You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  
Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”
You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”
He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”
“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 
“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”
“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”
Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”
You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.
“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.
All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”
“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”
You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”
“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.
“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.
He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.
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As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.
For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 
The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 
So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 
Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.
Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 
He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.
You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”
“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”
He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 
Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.
You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”
He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”
You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 
He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”
“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.
He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”
The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 
You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.
Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.
He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”
Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”
You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”
He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”
You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”
Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  
“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”
“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.
You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”
He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 
“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”
You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?
“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.
“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”
“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.
“Fuck,” you whispered.
He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”
At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
And then he was gone and you were alone.
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You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 
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Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 
Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”
You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 
“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 
“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”
“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”
He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”
You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”
His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”
“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.
As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.
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When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.
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Part Two
Tag list is open
@stargazingfangirl18
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lazycats-stuff · 4 months
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Could you do batfam x baby bat reader? Where reader is a tiny force of chaos who likes to run around and cause mischief, and the only person he’s perfectly behaved with (aside from Alfred) is Damian, and while the rest of the family is trying to figure out why, Damian is just being smug cause even as an infant his little brother obviously knows who his superior brother is
Oh that would totally happen. I mean, Alfred already has authority, but Damian? Bruce would definitely be confused.
Summary: (Y/N) knows that Damian is not to be messed with. Bruce is about to give up parenting.
Warnings: family fluff, Damian is a cocky one, but in a good way.
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Amongst Bruce's children, Damian was the only one who was biological. Was is the most important part. Bruce was notified one night that he had a son and that the mom passed away during childbirth. Bruce was shocked to hear it, but made a paternity test to make sure that (Y/N) is his.
After a few minutes over the Batcomputer, Bruce confirmed it and quickly took his son back to the manor. (Y/N) was a small bundle, born as a premature baby, but he wasn't in a danger zone. Thankfully. However, he had to eat every few hours and both Alfred and Bruce made sure he ate to grow.
Of course, there was no abundance of shock and overall jealousy. A baby takes up a lot of time away from the other kids and it was just a complete mess for a few months. But all of them grew to like the little boy, but Damian was the one who had the hardest time doing it.
Damian enjoyed being the only biological son and more importantly, he loved throwing it in his brother's faces that he is superior to all of them. Of course, with another biological son, that went south and he was mad. He didn't want anything to do with the little boy, but (Y/N) grew on him.
Damian became especially protective of his little baby brother and he has swore to himself that he would kill again if necessary. Just for his brother. Damian was sure that Jason has swore the same thing too, especially since the incident at the gala when he was taken for ransom.
It was painful to see (Y/N) in the kidnapper's arms, crying out to his family to save him. Damian got a few hits when (Y/N) was secured and it took his brothers and about 3 more GCPD officers to contain him. Of course, the officers allowed him to get a few hits. If there is one thing you don't do in the justice system, more so if you know what happens to people who are in jail for messing with children and that one thing would be messing with children.
Especially with babies and slightly older children. They are the most defenseless ones out there and if you hurt them, well, you are in a world of hurt and pain.
Without a doubt.
Damian is the first one to act on it, right after inmates. Inmates were making sure that the bastards got what they deserved. After that evening, Damian held (Y/N) the entire night, just being there, making sure that his brother is safe.
He woke up at the slightest suspicious sound from (Y/N), observing and listening to the sounds.
As years have passed, (Y/N) has become chaotic and overall just mischievous child. There was never a dull moment with (Y/N) and Damian smiled every time that (Y/N) did something,
Bruce and the rest didn't want to stop (Y/N) and punish him for it, but they had to set firm boundaries, otherwise there would be a problem in the future and taming that problem would be difficult beyond belief.
(Y/N)'s mischievous side was first discovered when he was in kindergartens. It has started innocently and then it turned into watch out type of situation.
It was more than harmless, but still enough to scold the little boy. Scold may be too harsh, but they they had to put up firm boundaries. But (Y/N) still did it and it was something nice to see. Children should be children and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to be a child.
But still, boundaries had to be made.
But there was something about it all that made (Y/N) not want really behave. Bruce had no authority, Jason had no authority, Dick had no authority and Tim had no authority. None of it. (Y/N) often laughed at whatever they had to say.
Alfred had authority, but lets be honest, Alfred has all of the authority in the household and over the people living in it. That is an unspoken rule and Alfred could make (Y/N) behave quickly and efficiently. It made everyone feel like they were the ones being scolded.
And besides, without Alfred this house would crumble. Lets be honest, there is no Wayne Manor without Alfred. He just has that silent authority and nobody dared to defy the man.
If Alfred says, you have to go to sleep and eat, you are going to sleep and eat. Of course, (Y/N) felt it and has always behaved for Alfred.
But Damian was a whole another phenomenon in the house. It was shown when Alfred wasn't home and there was no one with enough authority to keep (Y/N) in line. However, there was Damian and Bruce saw it.
(Y/N) was being mischievous and Bruce has kept his eye on him, but he must have turned around for just a moment and (Y/N) was gone. Bruce freaked out a little bit when he couldn't find his son. He looked around everywhere and felt a little bit scared when he saw that the doors leading to the garden were open.
Bruce quickly ran outside and stopped when he heard Damian scolding (Y/N). Bruce could hear something about trying to climb a tall tree and something about being seriously hurt. Bruce watched from afar and (Y/N) looked genuinely apologetic.
Damian wasn't harsh in his scolding, but (Y/N) looked sad and Damian gave him a hug to comfort him and made him promise that the two would play later today. (Y/N) loved puzzles and Bruce always made sure to buy more puzzles for (Y/N).
His brain is better without all the excessive technology either way.
Bruce asked Damian how he did it, but Damian refused to answer, simply leaving with a smirk. Bruce sighed quietly as he stood in the garden alone, trying to process it all.
That wasn't the only incident that Bruce witnessed and it soon involved his brothers too and Alfred.
Little by little, everyone started seeing that (Y/N) was slowly behaving when Damian simply called his name out. It looked like Damian has developed a great sense for when (Y/N) was going to do something that would either hurt him or just somebody else and (Y/N) listened.
Alfred was thoroughly impressed with how a single word, (Y/N) would calm down. Alfred also had the same thing with (Y/N). A simple call out of his name and the boy would settle, knowing exactly that Alfred is not messing around.
But then again, (Y/N) knows who is the boss.
And Damian had his own theory why (Y/N) listened to him. There is a little thing called a superior brother. And a biological connection too and yes, Bruce has argued that he is the father, but Damian has simply said that he is superior.
Of course, his brothers weren't safe from the superior remarks.
Jason was ready to deck Damian every time he has heard that remark, but still remained curious as to how (Y/N) listens to Damian and not him. He is a better brother.
Tim didn't care, happy that there was someone other than Alfred could keep (Y/N) in line and safe. Even if that someone is Damian with whom he isn't in a great relationship, but he is trying to be civil because of (Y/N). And it was working, sort off at least.
Dick was just jealous that (Y/N) listened to Damian. Don't get him wrong, he loves Damian with all of his heart and is happy that he isn't mad anymore about being the other biological sibling, but it was still painful for his heart.
What did just Damian have that they didn't, excluding Alfred of course.
Well, Damian has an answer for all of them, with his signature smirk inherited from his father, the infamous 'batsmirk.'
" He actually knows who is his superior brother, no? "
Damian said with so much smugness and Jason wanted nothing more than to deck his brother with so much force that would removed Damian's head from his body.
Bruce choose to observe instead and Dick was just plane sad at the mere authority that Damian seemed to exude. Silent authority, just like Alfred.
Tim was curious too and he is just going to wait to see how the situation unfolds in the following years. This is going to make an interesting case and observation of (Y/N)'s growing up.
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mythos-writes · 1 year
Text
My Ferrari
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Toto Wolff x Ferrari principal (wife) reader
Plot: Toto and his wife use the grid as ponds in their plans to mess with each other... inspired by @pucksandpower Social Media AU cause I think it's so cute
Formula 1 Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2
Word Count: 1.5k
Warning: fluffy moments, Lewis and Charles getting 'kidnapped', google translated german + italian,
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Lewis was walking by the Ferarri paddock, minding his business and preparing for free practice. His music playing in his AirPods, when he heard a voice trying to get his attention.
“Lewis!” a voice gets his attention. He takes out a bud and looks around. He sees (Y/N) Wolff running up to him.
“Hey, (Y/N), what can I do for you?” He asks, still clueless about her plans.
“I want to play with Toto a little, and I need your help,” she explains but keeps it vague.
“Ok, with what?” he asks, not noticing Charles and Carlos coming up behind him.
“GET HIM!” she yells. Lewis feels arms around him, and him leaving the ground. “What are you going?!” he says, trying to not giggle because he knows he won’t get hurt.
“You are going to be my ransom against your famous principal,” She says with a smile. They take him into the garage and to (Y/N)’s office. They place him on a folding chair and tie him up in some take they had found in the garage.
All Lewis could do is give (Y/N) a ‘why do you have to drag me into this’ look. Once the two drivers finished tapping up the other driver, they were giggling like toddlers getting a pass for bad behaviour. “Thanks’ you two, you guys are good to go,” she tells her drivers.
“(Y/N) what is all this for?” Lewis questions, knowing she couldn’t hide things from him. [Things that were non-racing related] 
“I know your season hasn’t been the best, and I just wanted to have some fun. Even though we’re rivals, we’re also family and it hurts seeing Toto come off a race and just look frustrated and sad. So I’m trying to just have some fun,” she tells.
“ I appreciate that you’re trying to cheer him up…BUT… why do you have to drag me into this?” he questions, pulling at the tap a little. 
“Oh, because you’re his golden child, and it would be easier to get Carlos and Charles to carry you than George,” she says while pulling her phone out. “And don’t worry, you’ll be out of the tap, just as soon as I get a picture, to send to Toto,” she states while getting a few pictures. 
"Perfect, now I'm going to take the tap off, but you can't return to the Mercedes paddock just yet," she states. Lewis moves to the couch and lays out. "Yeah, I figured as much."
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Toto was walking around the Paddock, looking for Lewis. He wasn’t in his driver's room, and he wasn’t with Roscoe, cause Angela took the pup on his paddock walk. He asked George and the other team members but hadn’t seen him. His phone pings, as he gets a series of texts. He sees his wife's name pop up and he feels a smile grow. But when he opens the texts, he tries not to laugh. 
He is greeted with a photo of Lewis tied up with a nervous face on. The text that followed almost made him laugh...
Toto, I have in my possession I have your precious 7-time champion. If you want him back before free practice, you must meet my demands. If you bring yourself and some food from your catering to your dear wife. Then you’ll leave with your precious driver. If not met, Lewis will become a Ferarri driver
Toto looks up and he see’s Goerge talking to Alex Albon just outside of the paddock. He waived the two over. 
“What can we do for you boos man?” Alex asks. 
“Well you two, I had a job for you…”
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Charles was getting ready for the practice and he was doing his normal pre-race routine. Because of this, he didn’t hear George or Alex sneak up behind him. George grabbed his hands and Alex grabbed his legs, and they started to carry him off to the Mercedes paddock. 
“What are you two doing?!” Charles asks, he is confused about why he is being dragged into this. Before they could answer, Ted Kravitz spotted the ‘kidnapping’ of Charles  Leclerc. 
“We have just spotted Alex Albon and George Russell carrying Ferarri’s Charles Leclerc. George what is going on here?” he asks. 
“We’re just working orders by the boss,” he replies as they walk into the garage. 
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By now, (Y/N) had untapped Lewis, and he was just chilling out in her office. Her phone pinged, notifying her that she had gotten a text. When she opened it, she was shocked to be greeted by a picture of Charles, tapped up just like how they had Lewis. A text followed the picture that read… 
Two can play this game, Liebe. If you want your driver back, I suggest we make a truce and do a driver swap on neutral ground… in front of the McLaren paddock in 20 minutes. If you can’t meet these requirements, Charles will become the newest Mercedes driver this weekend... Also, bring some of Ferarri's catering coffee, you know how I like my coffee
She showed Lewis the texts, and he just started giggling at Charles's face. The two looked at each other, knowing the fun and games were coming to an end. 
“Well, it looks like we need to stop at the coffee booth before we meet my dearest husband,” (Y/N) comments before getting ready to meet the Meracdes principal. 
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The end of the 20 minutes was closely approaching, and by now, the whole grid and paddocks knew what was happening between the two teams. So when they saw Toto standing with George and Charles, at one end, outside of the entrance of McLaren’s paddock. The other racers and team principals were standing outside, waiting for the Ferarri principal and the famous Mercedes driver.
“There they are,” someone yells out. Everyone looked up and saw the people of the hour come walking over, with a minute to spare. (Y/N), Carlos and Lewis stop and face off with Toto, George and Charles.
“Do you have what I asked for?” she yells across, they’re about 2 meters apart. Toto raised a bag, that was filled with her favourites from catering.
“And you?” he questions. She holds up the cup of coffee, made how he likes it. He walks closer, signalling she walks towards him. They meet in the middle and hand off their trades. 
“Pleasure doing business with you, amore,” she says with a smile. Toto rolls his eyes, but he found this whole thing amusing. He brought her into a hug, causing the grid to burst out into comedic cheers.  
“Come find me before heading back to the hotel,” he whispers in her ear. She nods.
“Does this mean we can go back to our teams now?!” Lewis yells. The two laugh at the driver’s antics. 
“Yes, you can go back Lewis,” she says as the two drivers swap back to their right teams.
“May the best team win,” he says with his cheeky smile. “May the best team win,” she replies with the same smile. The FIA marshals come by and dismiss everyone, as free practice was about to start.
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After free practice and they had their debriefs, (Y/N) made her way to the Mercedes paddock. She was ready for the qualifying race tomorrow. She notified some of the Mercedes crew to let Toto know that she was there. As she waited for him, she ended up finishing some last-minute emails on her phone.
“ Geez, and they call me a workaholic,” Toto’s voice breaks her concentration. She looked up to see him walking towards her. (Y/N) put her phone away and greeted him with a hug. Both teams performed well in practice and had a bright weekend. 
“Come on, we have a long day tomorrow,” she says, just wanting to get room service and get some well-needed cuddles. They get into the car and made their way back to the hotel. It was quiet for most of the drive. 
“So about the antic you pulled,” Toto broke the silence. She looked over at him in the driver's seat. “That was quite the start of the weekend,” he says, trying to stay stoic. 
“Well, I know that this season hasn’t been the one you were expecting, and I hated coming home and seeing you so disappointed and frustrated. So, I decided to have a little fun,” she explains herself. Toto brought his hand to her lap and wrapped his large hand around her smaller one. He brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss against the back of her hand. 
“I appreciate that Liebe, and I must say, I did have fun today,” he says, remembering the way he recruited drivers to do his bidding. She smiles and returned the kiss he just placed on her hand. 
“I’m glad that my plan worked,” she replies. Silence fell between the two, but it was a peaceful and comfortable silence. 
“The next time you plan to kidnap one of my drivers again, I’m just going to steal you and have Charles and Carlos come to rescue you,” he comments, causing her to erupt into laughter. Their relationship had its ups and downs, but right now it was the perfect relationship anyone could dream of. 
~~~~~~~~~
google translate:
German: Love- Liebe
Italian: My Love- amore
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dr3c0mix · 7 days
Note
Alistair x (platonically) Teen Reader
In the fic he is like oh my god a bride, he walks in and instead of an adult..or a bride-
They find a teen, who literally threw a pebble at him, an angsty teen💀
I’m very happy to read ur fics and usually pair them with teen/child mc because I find it funny because they expect the love of their life
and teen mc standing there :🧍‍♂️
anyways sorry for the long request, luv ur writing, and ur art :D
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Yandere! Evil King x Teen! GN! Reader
CW: platonic relationship, Alistair is a bit of a DILF so do with it as you will, Dads are hot you guys!! READER IS A MINOR.
👑 Who is this sassy lost child?
👑 His minions kidnapped you while you were on a carriage ride back to your kingdom.
👑 He was hoping for like a princess or something to marry and take over the kingdom with or whatever so like...what tf he gonna do with you???
👑 Clearly you were too young to be in a situation like this, but theres no way he's giving you back without a reward, so yes he still holds you for ransom.
👑 "Child, I am Alistair, King of-ACk!"
👑 Did...did you throw a pillow at him?!
👑 "How dare yo- AHK! Stop it!" another one..
👑 You refuse to listen to anything he says, you just wanted to go home
👑 You two had a bit of rivalry for a bit. He hated you and you hated him.
👑 He promised not to show any affection or care towards you since in his eyes, your actions didn't deserve it. How can someone be so rude to a king !?
👑 But he starts to notice you don't eat much. He never sees you in the dining hall and has only seen quick moments of you nibbling on some bread or pastries the servants gave you.
👑 He scoffed, so irresponsible! You must eat a proper meal right this second or you'll starve!
👑 You're surprised to see a meal prepared for you during your routine trip to get a snack from the pantry with a note on the plate.
👑 "Next time, ask for a proper meal. I don't want your parents to think I've been starving you. -Alistair P.S. go to bed early."
👑 Huh...
👑 Alistair smiled from the doorway of the dining hall, watching you eat up with a smile on your face. You might have been too scared of him to ask for food so you've been sneaking snacks while he wasn't looking.
👑 Of course he wasn't doing it because he cared about you, he just didn't want royalty like you to resort to such pathetic means to eat!
👑 Why are you still sad? Perhaps he should get you some things to keep your attention..
👑 He asks (threateningly may I add) about your hobbies or interests.
👑 The next morning your cell (which has been upgraded to a lovely room in the castle because he didn't want you to be filthy and gross in a dungeon) was filled with anything he could find that he thought you'd enjoy.
👑 Don't think he wants you to be happy! He's just tired of seeing you sulk everywhere!
👑 He denies everything, but you swear you could see a tiny smile on his face when you hugged him happily.
👑 You start being a little more open to him, showing him anything you've made or done with pride and he'd receive it gratefully, but he won't show it of course.
👑 "I made you this friendship bracelet!"
👑 "I've seen better jewelry."
👑 "Oh I'll take it back then I guess.."
👑 "No, it's mine now, back off."
👑 Drawings and the like that he said would be thrown out as soon as you left would be seen framed in his room
👑 It would be a..waste of good canvas..
👑 And of course he buys a few books of your choice for you to read, he'd be damned if your brain turns to mush.
👑 Bro bro he'd be the type to let you swing around while holding onto his bicep.
👑 If you ever have any problems, or come to him in a bad mood, he'd have no idea how to help other than to sit down and listen to your troubles.
👑 He's not the most physical when it comes to affection, but you bet your ass he's gonna do everything he can to cheer you up.
👑 At this point he's rewriting his demands for the ransom. Either your kingdom lets him sign some adoption papers or he's starting a war.
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kining-the-evil · 1 year
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Hii. Can I get a request with Ransom Drysdale x daughter r where yn is ill and just want her dad?thank you
Sick Day
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Summary: You don’t want your father to leave while you’re like this (Drabble)
Warnings: vomiting, fever, ransom being soft
“Y/n…”
“No,” you mumbled against your fathers chest.
“I won’t make you go, but I have to get out of here,” he tried again. Linda would be up his ass if he didn’t show up to the family dinner. You had been up all night, throwing up with a fever, so he wasn’t go to drag you to some long ass dinner at his grandfathers house.
“You don’t Even want to go,” You argued. His hand was rubbing up and down your back to comfort you. As much of an asshole he was to others, he had never been harsh to you. Even when angry, he kept his composure and treated you with respect.
“I never want to, but it’s called being a grown up.”
“Gross.”
He chuckled at you before moving you off of his lap. “Wait!” You tried to grab him but he was already out of reach
“If I don’t leave now, I’ll be even later. Then your grandmother is going to show up and it will be a whole thing.” He had pulled his jacket on, but when he turned to look at you there were tears in your eyes.
“I’ll go with you!” You stood up, wobbling slightly.
“Stop,” he stepped forward to let you grip his arm. “I really think you need to stay home.”
“Please!” You were practically begging him.
“Fuck it,” he mumbled. He sat back down on the couch, letting you wrap yourself up in his lap. He pulled his phone out, calling Harlan.
“Hello?”
“Hey Franie, mind putting Harlan on.” You smacked him lightly, but he ignored you. After a moment of silence Harlan’s voice spoke.
“Where are you Ransom?”
“Y/n is sick, we’re not coming.” He reached over and checked your forehead, making a mental note to get you more medicine.
“Of course! I’ll let everyone know, tell her I hope she feels better.”
“Sure,” And with that the conversation was over. He put his phone down and looked down at you. “Harlan says to get better.”
You made a noise to show you heard him, but didn’t move other then that.
“I need to get you some medicine- just wait,” he gave you a look before you could interrupt him. “I’ll get a movie going, and I’ll stay on the couch the rest of the afternoon. Deal?”
You glanced up at him and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response. “Deal.”
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babyjakes · 2 years
Text
softie | 9. for the first time.
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
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As soon as Georgia’s wide eyes land on the two plates of food sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs freeze beneath her, startling Ransom as the little girl comes to a halt. Following her gaze to the steaming meal, the man frowns, now remembering the problems the child seems to face whenever offered food. Bottom lip trembling, Georgia swallows, the lump in her throat so big that Ransom can hear as she tries to make it disappear.
Turning back to face the anxiety-stricken girl, Ransom explains evenly, “I made us a nice breakfast. There’s eggs, toast, and sausage. You can have milk if you like, or I have orange juice. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”
Barely able to look up at him, Georgia stumbles over her words. “I… can’t, sir… not allowed… can only have scraps.”
With guilt rising in his chest, Ransom does his best to put on a gentle smile, shaking his head at the child’s distressing words. “In this house, Georgia, you’re allowed to eat whatever you want. There’s plenty of food for the both of us, both in the fridge and in the cabinets. Scraps aren’t enough, sweetheart; you need real food to make you healthy and strong.” Though his words are meant to soothe the little one’s fears, Ransom frowns as he sees they’ve instead only worsened her state of panic. “Hey,” he hums, lowering himself to the ground to get even with the girl. “It’s alright, I know this must be scary. We’ll take things slow; it’s okay to have an adjusting period. How can I help you feel safer?”
Gulping again, Georgia attempts to blink back the tears in her eyes. “Sh-shred it up again? Maybe… won’t get in trouble that way.”
Nodding, Ransom agrees. “Alright, sweetheart. I can do that for you, but I want you to know that even if you ate the food just as it is, there would be no getting in trouble for you. You’re never going to be in trouble with me, alright? If something comes up, all we’ll do is talk about it. But I won’t ever discipline you like you were before; what happened to you was cruel and wrong.”
Georgia blinks, not seeming to know how to answer Ransom’s truthful words. Understanding, the man returns to his feet, letting go of the little girl’s hand as he makes his way over to the counter. “Y’know, guess it isn’t such a bad idea to cut this all up and throw it together,” he tries to lighten the mood as he prepares the food to the child’s preference, trying to make it look like a nice breakfast mash on the plate. Pausing for a moment, Ransom asks, “Is it alright with you if I shred mine up, too? Looks yummy this way!” he comments.
Looking up at him with wide eyes, Georgia surprises Ransom by nodding, a tiny hint of wonder shimmering in her gaze. Smiling down at her, the man grabs the food, carrying it to the table before pausing again. “Would you like to sit up at the table, sweetheart? It’s okay if you’d prefer the floor again, too. Just wanna do whatever’s most comfortable for you.”
Padding her socked feet over softly to stand at Ransom’s side, Georgia requests politely, “Floor… please? Can’t sit up there, not allowed.”
“Well sure you’re allowed, honey, but if you’d feel better sitting on the rug, of course we can. Would it be okay for me to sit down here with you?” Ransom asks as he folds his legs under him, setting the plates down on the woven fabric as he turns back to look at the child beside him. Eyes still wide, Georgia nods, as if she was completely expecting to have to sit through another meal at the man’s feet. “Great, thank you,” Ransom says with a smile as he gets back on his feet, “I’d much rather sit with you and keep you company instead of being all by myself. Now which would you like, sweetheart, some milk or some orange juice?”
“I- just… w-water?” Georgia questions, a look of uncertainty unfolding on her tender face.
“Sure thing, kiddo. You want ice in there?” Making sure to keep his expression friendly as she politely shakes her head, Ransom nods, going into an overhead cabinet and searching around. “Let’s see… the normal ones might be a little heavy for you,” he thinks aloud, grinning when his eyes land on a set of floral patterned paper cups. Grabbing one for the child, he walks to the sink, filling it a little more than half-way before grabbing his own drink, a glass of milk that’s been sitting out since the man prepared the meal.
“This look okay?” Ransom asks as he returns to their spot on the rug, handing the little girl the cup. “We can get you some fun cups when we go out shopping later, but for now, I bet this’ll be much easier than my big clunky glasses.”
“Y-yes, thank you,” little Georgia stutters, big eyes admiring the pretty flowers covering the cup.
“You like the design? I bet we can find all sorts of cool patterns at the store. Maybe even some Disney ones!”
“D-Disney?” the girl repeats as the pair take a seat on the rug, slowly beginning to eat their meal together.
“That’s the kind of movie you were watching last night,” Ransom tells her as he chews a bite of egg. “It’s called The Little Mermaid, it’s one of the best.”
“Mer-maid,” Georgia says slowly, a small smile forming on her face as she takes a bite of her own food. “So cool! Sings so pretty, too,” the little girl beams.
“That’s right, she is cool, isn’t she? And that voice, wish I could sing like that. Her name’s Ariel, by the way,” Ransom informs the child, an adoring smile crossing his face as he watches Georgia almost bouncing in her seat with delight.
“Ariel!” Georgia cheers, and as she thumps her foot excitedly while taking her next bite, for a moment, Ransom feels as if he’s in a way meeting his daughter for the first time in his life. For a split second, all of her fears and cares have disappeared; the walls she was forced to build up so high to protect herself have come crumbling down, revealing just Georgia: untainted, untouched.
“-under the sea, under the sea!” the girl sings softly, bringing Ransom back from his trailing thoughts. Chuckling, Ransom takes a sip of his milk, sighing happily as he thinks to himself, boy, this can’t be good. Not even a day in and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. Maybe we should look for an Ariel doll at the store.
“You wanna go shopping after breakfast, sweetheart?” Ransom asks, his heart aching a little to see the smile beginning to fade from Georgia’s shining face.
“I… b-but… don’t have any money,” the child opposes once again.
Shaking his head patiently, Ransom gently reminds her, “That’s alright, honey. You’re not expected to pay for anything, okay? Not a single thing while you’re here. Money and stuff like that is for grown-ups to worry about, yeah?” Frowning, Georgia doesn’t respond. “And if you’re gonna be here for the next few days, at least, then I think we’re gonna need a little bit more than just the car seat your social worker provided and the bag of shit from Meg.”
“Shit,” Georgia repeats innocently, eyes widening as Ransom fumbles to take back his words.
“I-I meant ‘stuff’, bag of stuff. Must’ve just- I just said it wrong,” he coughs, unable to keep from laughing slightly as the poor girl continues to look up at him obliviously. “Anyway, as I was saying, we can throw together a list before we go and just pick up the essentials for now, how’s that sound? There’s even an ice cream place on the way back. You have a favorite flavor?” he asks.
“Ice cream,” Georgia says, eyes now wider than ever before. “Never had it,” she admits, “but saw it once, maybe in a book.”
“Never had ice cream?” Ransom fakes shock, clasping his hand over his chest dramatically to earn a round of giggles from the little girl. “Well then, we must stop and get some. It’s one of the essentials, that’s for sure.”
“You’ve had it?” Georgia asks through a bite of her toast, causing Ransom to nod playfully.
“Maybe a few more times than medically advised, but yes, sweetheart. I’ve had ice cream. I think strawberry’s the best, though chocolate comes in a close second. The place we’ll stop at has a ton of flavors; they’ve got an entire board up with all the names and pictures. Don’t you worry, kiddo. We’re gonna make sure your first ice cream experience is nothing but the best.”
“Allowed to eat it, too?” Georgia asks softly, Ransom’s heart breaking at the thought of the child being bought such a special treat only to not be able to enjoy it.
“Of course you’re allowed to, silly,” the man assures her gently, locking eyes with her in hopes of showing her he means it. “You and me can eat it together; they’ve got a nice set of benches right outside, okay?”
“O-okay,” Georgia reluctantly agrees, surprising Ransom a little by smiling up at him softly. “Thank you, Mr. Ransom.”
“Just Ransom is fine, sweetheart,” he replies, trying to keep his voice from catching in his throat. “And it’s no problem, honey. Really, it’s my pleasure.”
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da-rulah · 3 months
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The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 2]
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Summary: Mary has something of yours from your last encounter. You have something of his. In a standoff, Mary suggests you meet to make the trade off, so you can pay your ransom.
Little does he know, you have a secret weapon up your sleeve... or rather, his sleeve...
Rating: Explicit, 18+
Word Count: 9k
Warnings: Teasing, lingerie, nipple play, choking, biting, cunnilingus, oral sex (f receiving), being gagged, squirting, manhandling, contraception mentioned but raw p in v sex still, angst, hurt 
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6
ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3
A/N: SO listen, this was supposed to be a silly little series of smut one shots with Mary that was low priority and something to do between other fics. Then... I started plotting. And now, the plot is plotted. So here you go, heathens - more Mary filth, except now we got storyline... Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake again for beta reading!
Oh, and I now have a ko-fi if you fancy leaving me a little tip, but no pressure. Love ya!
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You stared at your phone, the unread notification on your screen lighting up with each time you hit the side button. You hadn’t opened the message, only able to see the preview but it was enough.   
After two weeks of radio silence from Mary Goore, he’d finally text you late this afternoon.  
R u willing 2 pay ur ransom yet doll?  
You’d maybe stared at it for a few minutes, thinking of ways you might be able to sneak Mary in, or you could sneak out yourself. You knew your parents were home this evening; they’d invited your father’s deputy and his wife for dinner. You were not invited.   
“Just business, darling,” your father had told you. “Not for children.”  
That had pissed you off beyond belief. You weren’t a fucking child anymore; hadn’t been for a long time. But that’s daddy for you... Treating you like the same pigtailed little girl in the photo frame on your dresser, sat on her father’s shoulders at a Fourth of July parade. She looked happy, innocent.   
But that was well over a decade ago.   
And so, still simmering with a hint of anger and a flame stoked in your rebellious little soul, you decided you were indeed ready to pay your ransom.  
You were ready for round two with Mary fucking Goore.  
I have what you need. 8:30pm. I’ll leave my window open. Be quiet, daddy’s downstairs. No funny business, Goore. I’ll have my secret weapon ready if you try anything stupid.  
A few minutes went by, when the ‘sent’ turned to ‘read 5:43pm’, and the three little dots popped up on his side.  
Wouldn’t dream of it. C u l8r doll.   
You smirked at your screen, a thrill rushing through you at the thought of another night with Mary Goore...  
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Mary sat in his old black van across the street from your house, staring at the only light that was on upstairs. He’d been here early, around 8pm, and seen a couple pull up in a fancy car through the ornate gates that shut your house off from the rest of the street. Your father had greeted them with a firm handshake and a cheek kiss at the porch. Some kind of work thing, he assumed, scoffing at the nature of the situation he found himself in.  
Climbing through your window in the darkness of night to fool around with the Mayor’s daughter while he conducted a formal business meal downstairs. How cliché...  
As he’d watched, he bit at his thumb nail, plotting his route to get to the window. He could climb up the trellis panels along the edge of your garage, shuffle his way along the guttering and climb in that way... First, he’d have to climb over the tall iron railings without impaling himself on the spikes around the back of the house and away from the security cameras along the porch.   
He checked the clock on his dashboard, hissing a quick ‘fuck’ realising he was out of time; it was 8:27pm. It was now or never.   
Mary scrambled his way over the fence of the back yard, carefully dodging the view of cameras and the French doors that he could see your father through, sat at the dining table with his guests. Miraculously, he hadn’t impaled himself on the railings, though he did manage to snag his already ripped jeans, but that was no real loss to him.   
Climbing up the trellis should have been easier than it was, but he hadn’t accounted for the thorns on the roses that were growing up them. He quickly learned his lesson after blindly grabbing and piercing his palm in multiple places, almost stumbling and falling a few feet off the ground.   
But eventually, Mary made it up on the garage, and shuffled his way along the guttering to your open window. With a less than graceful forward roll and a clatter of trinkets falling to the ground from the desk he’d knocked them from beside the window, Mary was in.   
“Could’a told me I’d be pulling some Top Gun shit to get up here, doll...” he grumbled, dusting himself off and sucking at the puncture wounds on his palm as he turned around to find...  
An empty room.   
“Doll?” he asked, looking around to see if he’d missed you, but you were nowhere to be found. Mary’s shoulders slumped, huffing in annoyance as he found himself in a room that frankly was the exact opposite of his personal taste.   
Patterned wallpaper from decades long since passed coated your walls, covered in pretty pink peonies. Pretty pink and white bedding draped over a large bed in the middle of the room, frills and lace neatly assembled with a well-kept collection of stuffed animals and scatter cushions against the headboard. Sparkly trinkets and polished ornaments sat on most surfaces he could see with the naked eye, clearly collected over the course of your childhood.   
It looked like a kid’s bedroom... A little princess’ dream room. Not the bedroom of a young woman of your age, and certainly not the kind to fuck a guy like him in the stall of the men’s bathroom at a dive bar.   
In your absence, Mary took the time to look closely at some of the trinkets lining your dresser; a necklace rack with pretty little pendants hanging neatly in different metals; a little gold tray filled with pretty stones and crystals you’d collected; a tiny little ornament of a pink kitten; a white half-burned candle that smelled faintly of roses.   
You really were the cliché Mary thought you were, huh? Mary was little more than a touch of excitement and rebellion in an otherwise pristine little life – he could live with that, he supposed. He too had felt a thrill in claiming you as his two weeks ago in that bar, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about doing it again ever since.   
As Mary looked around your room, flicking at the necklaces, inspecting the trinkets, he came across the photo frame of tiny little you. He picked it up, smiling to himself at the goofy grin on the little girl’s face, the pigtails tied up with pretty red ribbons that matches the dungarees she wore. He shook his head with a little laugh, noting the Mayor in the photo and how much younger he looked. Office had aged him, that was for sure.   
How he’d come to find himself in this predicament, he had no idea. How ironic that the daughter of the Mayor to the very town that loathed him had become his booty call.   
Well, you would be if he could fucking find you.  
Putting the photo frame back in its place, Mary looked around one more time, noting there were two doors in the room. He figured he’d try his luck – if he were quiet enough, he wouldn’t be caught. Your parents had no reason to be upstairs with guests over, and maybe you were in a second living room or something? This house was definitely big enough to have two.   
Mary crept over to the door closest to him, reaching for the handle. He’d just grasped it in his palm, when he heard a click behind him.   
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” your pretty little voice warned, more stern than he’d heard it before. Mary froze, a smirk playing on his lips.   
“I think you just lost, doll...” he teased, standing up straighter yet still facing the door.   
“Lost what, Goore?” you enquired, leaning up against the doorframe of the bathroom you’d just been in, hiding from him as you applied the final touches to your make up. Mary began to turn towards the sound of your voice, then.  
“Your little game of hide and see-” He stopped in his tracks, the last syllable getting caught in his throat as his eyes fell on you.   
There you were, this pristine little daddy’s girl, leaning up against the doorframe with cherry red lips so ridiculously enticing, scantily clad in pretty red lace. The matching set you’d prepared came with a garter belt, only attached to strips of elastic around your upper thigh. The straps of the bralette contoured the curve of your breasts, similar straps of elastic sitting high on your hips. The lace only covered what it needed to, the straps themselves doing most of the enticing.   
But what really got him, was the leather jacket you wore over the top of it, covered in spikes, badges, patches and chains.  
His leather jacket.  
You smirked at Mary’s silence, watching his eyes drink you in as you showed off more than he’d got to see that night at the bar... This wasn’t rushed, this wasn’t on a whim. This had been planned, specifically to scramble his brain the second he saw you. And if the way he readjusted his jeans and his jaw dragged across the floor was anything to go by, you’d succeeded.  
Mary scraped his jaw back from the floor, collecting himself and settling his gaze on your eyes, feigning a look of deviance and irritation.  
“So, this is your secret weapon, huh?” he asked, gesturing towards your outfit – or lack thereof. “I told you I wanted that back,” he said, his voice deep and vaguely threatening.   
“I propose a trade. Do you have them?” you asked, holding your open hand out towards him.   
Mary patted at his chest as if looking for something, hands travelling down to his front pockets of his jeans, then to his back, where he let out an “ah-ha!” and pulled the familiar white lace of your panties from your last encounter from one of the pockets. “You’ll see they’re completely unharmed...” he dangled them out towards you.   
“Put them on the bed and step away...” you warned, keeping up the facade of a ransom exchange just a little longer. Mary did as you asked, slowly stepping towards the end of your bed and gently laying your panties on the edge, before holding his hands up in surrender and stepping back a few paces.   
You walked to the bed, picking them up and inspecting them for any damage at all. Mary watched you from afar, amused and shoving his hands into his pockets. With a satisfied hum, you balled the panties up and threw them back down onto the end of your bed, turning on your heels to look at him.   
“See, doll? Completely unharmed. Now... your turn,” he smirked, his eyes drifting back over your body, enjoying every inch of skin he could see beneath his jacket.   
“Can’t I keep it just a little longer...? It suits me, don’t you think?” you asked innocently, twirling around for him to catch a good glimpse of your ass peeking from beneath the leather.  
Mary pinched at his chin, unashamedly watching your ass as you modelled his jacket for him. “Hmm,” he hummed, “I suppose... it does have a kind of charm on you, doll.”  
You giggled, the sound momentarily scrambling the frequencies in his brain again before he shook his head and refocussed. You stepped towards him, biting your sultry red lip as you looked him up and down with the same hunger he had shown you.  
“So... do I get to wear it a little longer?”   
“Maybe just a little, doll...” he shrugged, waiting as you slowly approached him.   
“Just a little?” you pouted, coming to stand in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept his hands to himself, tucked back into his pockets. “Why just a little longer?”  
“Because, doll... I ain’t gonna be able to stop myself ripping it off ya pretty fuckin’ soon,” he threatened. You grinned, pulling your body to rest against him, breasts pushed into his chest and hips grazing his half-hard length in his tight jeans.  
“Enough talk, Mare... You came here to fuck me, so fuck me,” you told him, hovering your lips close to his.   
But Mary just laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, doll... Nuh-uh... You think I’m gonna rush this?” he asked, stepping either side of your feet and pushing you a step backwards simply with the force of his chest against yours. “Last time, we were in danger of gettin’ caught. Had to be quick, hm?” He took another step, forcing you back again. “But I reckon we got some time while daddy shmoozes his guests downstairs... I ain’t rushin’ this time, doll...”   
He backs you up until you can feel the frills of your bedding on the bare backs of your knees, tickling the exposed skin but he stops you there, not yet pushing you down onto the mattress. Instead, he lifts one of his hands from his pocket, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip and lightly pulling it down.  
“You wear this shade just for me, baby?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. From this close, you could see the details in his make up, the dark circles he painted on with pale skin, the fake blood dripping from his hairline. The fringe of his spiked hair tickled your nose where it came to a point, and you shivered from the tickle and his light grasp on your lip.   
“Uh-huh,” you confirmed, Mary smirking in triumph.  
“I like it... Wonder how it’d look on me,” he teased. “Let’s find out...”  
In less than a heartbeat he dropped your lip, his hand reaching for the lapel of his jacket draped over your body and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours. You whimpered at the contact, your mind blanking with the sensation of being able to finally kiss him again after a painful two weeks.   
Mary stayed true to his word, taking his time to mould his lips with yours, tilting his head in order to make you more pliant in his grasp. He tasted as he did the last time you met, with the exception of the beer you had pounded together that evening; the lingering taste of cigarette smoke and a vague sweetness from whatever he used as fake blood to drip down his face.   
Your fingers wound their way into the shorter hair at the back of his head, tugging at the roots while your arms tightened around his neck. Mary’s grip on his jacket fell to your hips, pulling at the elastic of the garter belt around your waist. He could feel your bare skin beneath it, driving him utterly insane with want. But no, he said he wouldn’t rush this. He wouldn’t. He wanted to savour every touch, every taste, every noise he could from you.   
But he also couldn’t bring himself to deny you when you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, a clear indication you needed to taste more of him, directly from the source. And so, he allowed you to invade, tongue meeting in a slow and deliberate show of sensuality.   
Somehow, despite being so much slower in his movements this time around, it felt all the more filthy than your encounter in the bathroom stall. Your little mewls of pleasure and his dark little chuckles and groans added something to the moment, a familiar sense of desperation for each other.  
Eventually, Mary pushed you to sit at the edge of your bed, tapping the steel toecap of his boots at your inner ankles to spread your knees for him to stand in the space you created. You did so without a fight, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and curving your back to give him a nice view of your ass over your shoulder. He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, smirking down at you with a smudge of red across his lips.  
“Well...? How does your lipstick look on me, doll?” he asked, pouting for added effect.   
“Suits you...” you giggled, “but I’m wondering...” You reached for his belt, unbuckling the leather from the oversized skull buckle, “how it’d look smothered along your cock...”   
“Fuck, you’re filthy, doll...” he praised, but he gripped your wrists and paused your movements. “But as my memory serves me, you’ve taken my cock in that pretty mouth before, hm? And as fucking good as that was, I wanna try something new tonight. That alright with you?” he asked, a genuine tenderness in his eyes that let you know it was alright to tell him no, that you could back out any second if you wanted.   
But the sparkle that said Mary had a plan was still very much prevalent, and you let your curiosity get the better of you. You wanted whatever he planned. You wanted anything Mary was willing to give.  
“Whatever you want, Mare,” you smirked, fluttering your eyelashes up at him as you loosened your grip on his belt.   
Mary whistled with a smirk and a shake of his head, “Careful sweetheart... That’s a real dangerous door to open.”  
Before you could think of a witty response, his hand wrapped itself around your exposed neck, the cool feel of his silver rings contrasting with the heat of arousal that emanated from your skin. With his thumb, he titled your chin up a little more, before he dipped his head to attach his teeth to the space under your ear, nibbling, suckling, licking over the skin as he travelled down your neck, holding you in place while he bent over you.  
Because he was stood between your thighs, you couldn’t help but widen them to accommodate him, his body slotting itself in and crowded your senses. You could smell a cologne on him – not one he’d worn last time... was he try to impress you? - that was musky and woody, only complimented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke.   
Mary made his way down your neck, holding you tightly as he moved to your chest, paying close attention to the sounds of your laboured breaths and little whimpers as he got closer to the curve of your breasts. To aid his descent, Mary got down onto one knee, his free hand gripping your thigh for stability just as tightly as he held your neck. To your disappointment, he moved back just as he was getting close to the red elastic that sat above the cup of your bra, still holding you in place.  
“Look at me, doll...” he commanded, and you did so without question – a little difficult, with the way he was holding your chin higher than it naturally sat. But he held eye contact with you, even as he moved in to lick a wide stripe between your breasts from your sternum, right up to where his hand grasped your neck. Your hips bucked just a little in arousal, but he noticed. Mary didn’t miss a trick.   
“Fuckin’ needy little thing, you are. What, you want me to touch you?” His hand on your neck slid up to cup your jaw, two of his fingertips forcing their way past your lips and holding you tight. “Want my tongue? My fingers? My cock?”   
You couldn’t answer if you tried, his hand locked in place, keeping you silent save for the pleading whine you let out. Mary laughed, reattaching his lips to your chest and trailing open mouthed kisses down to the curve of your breast, finally mouthing at flesh instead of skin and bone. He bit down on you, digging his nails into your thigh as he did to spread the light pain further across your body. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out, hips rolling on the bed in search of something more.   
“Undo this bra for me, doll. My hands are busy,” he told you. You did as you were told, reaching behind you and unclasping the hooks, letting it fall loose on your shoulders underneath Mary’s jacket. With the tension removed from the elastic, he could move the flimsy cups out of the way, nudging them with that delectable nose of his to finally reach the nipples that had hardened for him long ago.   
His tongue laved over the bud, heavy breaths flooding from his nose while his mouth was preoccupied with your tits. By the noise he was making, Mary seemed to be enjoying himself, fingertips digging into your thigh against, his rings imprinting on your flesh.   
With Mary distracted, you shimmied out of his jacket, wanting to take the bra off completely. When you’d thrown the thin little thing to the side, Mary’s eyes looked up at you with a darkness, a hint of distaste in them.   
“Put that fucking jacket back on,” he growled against your breast. “Ain’t nothin’ prettier than tits and leather.” You giggled around the fingers in your mouth and reached for the jacket that lay around you, shuffling until you had it back on. “Good girl,” he mumbled against your breast again, suckling at your nipple while he slid the hand from your mouth down to cup the other breast, pinching in time with his teeth nipping at the other.   
Your hands found his hair again, messing with the way he’d styled it and scratching at his scalp as you pulled his head closer to you. You rolled your hips again where you sat, trying desperately to grind against his chest but you simply couldn’t reach from here, and you whimpered at the lack of contact to where you really needed him.  
With a popping sound, Mary pulled back from your breast and levelled his face with yours, demanding eye contact.  
“Needy little girl wants me to touch her cunt, huh?” he asked, no hint of shame or shyness to him at all. It made your core burn for him.   
“Please, Mare...” you whined.   
“Said I was gonna take my time, doll. You gettin’ impatient?” He arched an eyebrow, testing you. You were in no mood to hide your lust.  
“Mhm...”  
“You want my cock that badly?” he asked, a cocky smile playing on his lips. You nodded, giving him your best pathetically needy puppy-dog eyes. He just laughed.   
“Tough shit, doll. I’m sure you’re used to gettin’ what you want, but I wanna enjoy this. And frankly, baby, I’m thirsty. I’ve been here all this time, and you haven’t even offered your guest a drink?” he accused, acting insulted. “Just rude, that. Guess I’ll have to get my own...”  
A swell of panic rose in your chest, your eyes widening as your eyes darted towards the door to the hallway. He couldn’t... Your father would go nuts, throw Mary out by the collar of his band shirt and ground you for the rest of eternity – even if you were a fucking adult.  
Mary followed your gaze and laughed. “Not from there, doll. I got what I need right here.”  
Without warning, Mary pulled the feeble lace of your panties to one side, exposing your dripping centre to him and launching himself between your thighs. His lips encircled your clit and with a loud slurp, and he took enough of your arousal onto his tongue to coat the appendage completely. You couldn’t help the loud gasp that forced its way up your throat, Mary’s hand slapping over your open mouth to cut it off.   
Now silenced, you allowed the moans to spill freely against his palm as he dove into your core, lapping at your clit, your lips and your entrance like he already knew what you liked, where you needed him. True to his word, Mary drank from you every drop of arousal you produced as if he hadn’t hydrated in days. His make up smeared all over you, a mixture of fake blood and whatever black and white paints he’d used for his dull skull make up. You could see the pink tinge of your lipstick still around his lips, getting messier by the second.   
As he focussed on your clit, you howled against his palm, prompting him to remove himself from your core and shush you just inches from your face, warning you with darkened eyes to keep quiet, or he’d stop everything. You may have a big house, but Mary was still very aware of the dinner going on downstairs; he was not about to get thrown out of your house with a raging boner and smeared pussy juice all over his fucking face.   
“Seems I can’t keep you quiet, doll... How do I shut you up, hm?” he asked, pressing his hand harder against your lips as he looked around your room for something to aid him. His eyes landed on the white lace beside you, draped over the corner of your bed, and his eyes glimmered with mischief.   
With his free hand, he grabbed at your used panties, balling them up and stuffing them into your mouth until he was sure he’d plugged up the source of the noise.  
“There. Now do me a favour, pretty girl...” he leaned in to whisper in your ear, the faint scent of your juices hitting your nose from the mess over his mouth and chin, “ shut the fuck up...”   
You moaned into the lace in your mouth, muffled well enough that only Mary would be able to hear. The way he spoke to you, took command and degraded you made you so damn weak for him; because you had a weird feeling you were safe with Mary.   
Absolutely, he was a son of a bitch, a fucking asshole, a total whore and the filthiest guy you had yet to meet but there was always an air of safety with him, of comfort and a mutual respect you didn’t seem to get with any of the assholes you’d fooled around with in the past. Mary wasn’t exactly your usual type – unwillingly a cliché, you only seemed to fool around with jocks or preppy guys – but that was because you had always, always lived up to daddy’s expectations. You fooled around with the guys your father would approve of, in the hope that someday he may approve of you in the same way.   
Mary was the opposite of that and truthfully, the first guy you’d slept with that made you feel anything other than a dull buzz. For starters, he knew where the clit was and what to fucking do with it – but there was an electricity there, the spark of a passion you’d not yet felt with anyone else. Mary knew what buttons to press, how far he could go; he was running off pure instinct, listening to you, feeling you, understanding you.   
He dove back between your legs, the jolt of pleasure as his tongue swept over your clit forcing your legs to clamp down around his head. His hands gripped onto your thighs, nails digging into the flesh as if encouraging you, taunting you to try and squeeze until you crushed him. Your moans were caught by the lace in your mouth, muffled but still as desperate as they had always been under Mary’s spell.  
You had always thought there was no way a man could make you cum with just his tongue, but you thought the same thing of men in general, having been left unsatisfied without your own intervention during every sexual encounter with a man previously. But Mary had already proved you wrong when he’d made you squirt on his cock – you hadn’t even realised you could do that.  
He was determined to make you do the same again, still feeling particularly thirsty for you. He persevered, swiping his tongue over your most sensitive of nerves, winding the coil in your abdomen tighter and tighter... The only warning you gave him was your hands gripping the roots of his hair, your hips shoving themselves against his face right before you squealed against the lace, biting down and once again, squirting as you came from Mary’s ministrations.   
Mary growled with hunger as he caught as much as he could, drinking every drop he could reach, rutting against the tightness in his jeans for some kind of friction for himself, now too turned on to hold back. He didn’t stop for air, never pulled away from you until you were physically pushing at his head, overstimulated and in need of a reprieve.   
Mary fell back, his hands catching himself on your carpet as he gasped for air, your cum dripping from his chin mixed with fake blood, white paints and your smeared lipsticks. You fell back against the mattress, pressing your fingertips into your eyes in a hope it might ground you as you came down. You made no move to remove the lace from your mouth; it served to still silence the whimpers of aftershocks that rippled through you, your limbs convulsing every few seconds after brief pauses of stillness.  
You missed the smugness on Mary’s face as he licked what he could reach from around his mouth, smearing the rest on the back of his palm. Slowly, he crawled back to his knees, slinking his way over your chest and hovering above you like a serpent ready to wrap himself around you and squeeze your life essence from your body. His eyes looked predatory, and your heart rate that had begun to stabilise shot through the roof again.   
Mary wasn’t finished.  
“Think that’s my thirst quenched, doll...” he smirked, running his thumb along your stained bottom lip, noting how the red had transferred to the white lace gag. “Fuckin’ love that you can do that for me.”  
You did your best to smile around the intrusion in your mouth, your eyes doing most of the emoting.  
“But y’know what?” he teased, pressing kisses under your ear lobe as his hands travelled down to your breasts again, lightly tracing around your nipple and back up to your throat. “I’m fuckin’ hungry, now.”  
With a strength you didn’t know he possessed judging by his scrawny little frame, he gripped the edges of his open leather jacket in one fist, lifted it with enough force that he could throw you backwards, back hitting the piles of stuffed animals and pillows. You yelped, again muffled by the cotton lace.  
Mary just laughed. He stood up at the end of the bed, reaching to the back collar of his cut-off band tee and dragging it over his head until it fell to the ground.   
“You want my cock, didn’t you doll?” he asked, keeping his voice relatively low so as not to raise suspicion from downstairs. You may have been gagged, but he wasn’t. He had to still be careful. But you nodded at him frantically, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.   
His hands worked the button and fly of his skinny jeans, shoving the tight material down his thighs until he could stand on them to pull one leg out, then the other. He whipped his briefs off pretty quickly too, freeing himself completely. You watched in delight as he fisted his length a couple of times – this was the first time you’d seen him bared to you like this, and frankly, you couldn’t seem to get enough...   
His subtle definition over his skinny form had you drooling, eyes following the trail of hair from his stomach to his well-kept pubic hair. You whimpered at the sight of his cock, completely free from confinement, and his thighs that tensed as his fist squeezed at the head of his cock.   
Without another word, Mary knelt on the bed, pulling your ankles apart to give him space to shuffle between them. He wanted unrestricted access to your core, and so began pulling the garter belt from your waist along with the garters themselves, so he would finally make progress and get to the waistband of your panties underneath.   
This pretty red shade was gonna haunt him at night, he just knew it. He couldn’t get away with keeping it this time; his memory would have to do.  
Now fully undressed, Mary had you right where he wanted you – naked and beneath him, with only his leather jacket on. You were the sexiest god damned thing he’d ever fucking seen.  
He hovered above you, trailing his fingertips from your neck, down over your breasts and to your thigh, where he hooked his hand under your knee and hiked it up to his hip. He lowered himself, his bare cock sliding against the mess between your legs. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment he seemed to falter, as if looking for some kind of anomaly in your irises. Suddenly, Mary was pulling the panties from your mouth and instead, pushing his lips to yours for another engulfing kiss.  
You held his head in place, raising from the pillows to meet him and move so effortlessly with him. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, and eagerly you swiped your tongue over his for more of it.   
Mary pressed his forehead to yours as he let the kiss fade out, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself as he lined the head of his cock up with your dripping centre. He hadn’t prepped you at all, and so he knew that first push he had to go slowly, he had to be careful – but he also knew you’d be tighter than last time, his fingers not yet working you open.   
“Tell me you want me, baby...” he whispered to you, nuzzling his nose against yours, lost in bliss.  
“I want you, Mare...” You didn’t even hesitate, whispering back. “Please...”   
Mary kissed you again, using your lips to try and distract him from the squeeze of his cock pushing into you, slowly filling you so deliciously, so completely... With the strain of keeping his composure, his lips pressed harder against yours. Your fingernails dug into his head as you held him in place, whimpering into your kiss.   
When he’d completely filled you, his hips flush against yours, he stilled for a moment and parted his lips from yours.  
“You good, doll?” he asked, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. He found none, but he needed confirmation. This felt different to last time, more intimate than the bathroom encounter. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by your childhood bedroom and very aware of how vulnerable that made you to him. Maybe it was because he was able to actually see you this time. Maybe it was because he was pressed up against you, held by you in such a way that he hadn’t had in quite some time, his usual encounters with women fleeting and rushed.  
But like Mary had said in the beginning; tonight, he wasn’t rushing.   
“I’m good, Mare. Please, move,” you begged, rolling your hips beneath him for the slightest friction.  
He obliged without hesitation now he had the green light, slowly rolling his hips to drag his length back through your sopping heat until he could push himself back in with a more deliberate and angled thrust. You gasped beneath him, his hand once again coming to slap over your lips to silence you.  
“Careful, baby. Don’t make me gag you again, hm?” You nodded from underneath his palm as he found his pace, filling you over and over and deliciously hitting that same pressure point he’d found last time. “Good girl... You know I love the pretty noises you make for me, but they’re just for me, you hear?” he warned. You nodded again, slamming your head back down into the pillows beneath you, your hands running down to his shoulders to hold onto him.   
His hand drifted from your mouth, instead finding purchase on your hip bone to hold you down against the mattress while he drove his cock deep inside you over and over again. Although a struggle, you managed to contain your moans for the time being, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing his shoulders.   
Mary, too, was struggling to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than to roar in his bliss, to grunt and growl and lose his fucking mind between your legs but he held back, gritting his teeth around the noises he let escape. You saw his struggle, and figured now was as good a time as any to mess with him...  
“You feel so good, Mare...” you whispered breathlessly. His brow visibly creased, his eyes boring into yours. “Filling me so perfectly. C-can feel you... in my fucking... stomach,” your sentence broke apart as his thrusts got harder and harder with each of your words, spurred on by your filth.  
“ Fuck , baby girl... You tryna make me lose it, huh?” You just giggled beneath him, riling him up further.   
“C’mon Mare, fuck me... Gag me if you gotta, but fuck, just lose it. Fuck me, Goore...” You begged.   
Mary buried himself in your neck and growled against it, biting at the flesh and ramming his hips into you harder and harder. Your own whimpers slipped from within, and again, Mary had to cover your mouth with his hand to stop them getting any louder, drawing attention to you both.   
Between his hand on your mouth and jaw and the other pinning your hips to the bed, you were stuck beneath him, unable to writhe and move much at all below the unforgiving Mary, who – like you had told him to – had lost it. The sight of him was maddening, intoxicating. It had you clenching your walls around him, earning muffled groans and huffs from above you.   
“Fuckin’ love the way this pussy grips me, baby. Like you never wanna let me go...” he chuckled, gritting his teeth.   
You were so close, that familiar tingle growing desperately by the second, heat pooling and spreading from your core through every limb, like magma spilling from a crater and coating everything in its path.   
“M-Mary...” you whispered, nails digging into his back and dragging across the pale skin, leaving red scrapes in their path. He fucking loved that shit.  
“What is it, baby? You gonna cum again for me? I get two outta you, this time?” he teased. “Go ahead, cream on my cock. I got you,” he promised; and you believed him.   
Even with the grip on your body he had, Mary couldn’t stop you from curling in on yourself, that coil inside you seeming to wind you up like a clockwork toy until you eventually broke, pulling Mary against your chest and ripping his hand from your lips so you could kiss him, releasing all of your energy into a scream that was swallowed by his lips and tongue.   
Mary’s hips never faltered, but he felt the way your pussy gripped him, the drag of each thrust so much harder between that and your hands pulling his body taught against your own. His resolve crumbled quickly, hips frantically smacking into yours until he could feel himself on the edge.   
Mary hadn’t cum inside last time, and in the absence of a condom, he wasn’t sure you’d allow him. He’d understand, but with your lips trapping his from asking permission, he was beginning to panic, his end rushing towards him like a freight train.   
He held off, somehow managing to keep himself from climaxing until your climax had dulled enough for him to pry you from his lips, smacking his forehead to yours as he grunted and took a breath.  
“Doll, g-gonna cum... W-where?” he could barely ask a full sentence in the state he was in, but you understood despite the haze of a ridiculously powerful second orgasm.   
“On... the pill...” you’d said between breathless gasps, still reeling from more aftershocks and surrounded by the suffocating heat of both your bodies entwined in each other. “Inside, Mare. Fill me,” you told him.  
That was the spark to a puddle of gasoline... it ignited him instantly, barrelling headfirst into an orgasm he felt in every single nerve in his body.   
You held him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as his forehead bruisingly pressed into yours, his jaw dropping as a loud moan began to rip from his chest. This time, it was you stuffing your white panties into his mouth, just in time to stop the noise reverberating on the walls and causing one hell of a scene for your parents to rush in on.   
He didn’t still his hips, rather slowed them to savour the feeling of his spend filling you up, warming both your insides and his shaft. His cock was so damn sensitive now, every slow drag through his mess inside you having him jolt against you in overstimulation until finally, he’d calmed himself enough to be able to pull out and collapse into your chest, his leather jacket sticking to the both of you.   
For a while, you lay like that; catching your breath and laying in the afterglow of a damn good fuck. It wasn’t until Mary rolled onto his side next to you and spat your panties out that you felt the relief of a cool breeze caused by his movement.  
“I got no idea where you got that mouth of yours, darlin’, but it’s gonna get me in a lot of trouble...” he chuckled, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it from his forehead.   
“Oh, my mouth? Seems to me, you’re the talker of the two of us, Goore,” you prodded an accusatory finger into his peck. Mary made a “meh” noise, falling into his back and rubbing his hands over his face, only to look at them and notice the mess of colours that transferred to his palms.   
“Shit, was that a bathroom you popped out from earlier? I uh... could do with a hose down.” You laughed at him, nodding as you sat up.   
“Me first, though. Heard a girl should always pee after sex,” you shrugged. “Helps... something? Whatever.” You stood, clenching your thighs together when you felt the mess that threatened to drip from you. Ah, that’s why.  
Mary just chuckled at the way you waddled into your little en suite and waited patiently for his turn to spruce himself up in your shower, teasing you when he’d seen you emerge in a towel with your hair thrown up and out of the way.   
Truthfully, he’d hoped maybe you’d have joined him – but perhaps you felt like that was a little too intimate. He had to remember his place, after all. Just a booty call, and booty calls don’t wash each other’s bodies and shampoo each other’s hair.   
Now clean, Mary emerged in a towel with his hair still dripping. You hadn’t seen him without his signature face paint since he’d dropped out of school at 15, and he seemed somewhat vulnerable without it; like he’d stripped himself of a protective layer between him and the rest of the world.   
Nevertheless, Mary dressed himself again and sat down at the edge of your bed, where you’d sat waiting for him in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a cami top – topped off, of course, by his leather jacket. Mary laughed at the sight.  
“Am I not gonna get that back, doll?” he asked, nodding at the jacket as he buckled his belt back up.  
“Not yet... Gonna need it, it’s cold out tonight,” you shrugged.  
“Oh? We goin’ somewhere?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he dug into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one from the box and shoving it between his teeth.  
You stood and took a step towards him, plucking the cigarette from his teeth and instead pushing it between your lips. “Can’t smoke inside, daddy will smell it.”  
Mary’s lips curled into a wicked smile. You really were the hottest little minx he’d had the pleasure of fucking.   
You strode over to the open window Mary had climbed in through, climbing out onto the roof and heading for the edge of the apex, climbing down it to the flat platform of the garage roof, safely tucked to the side of the house. Up there sat a little flowerpot filled with sand that you’d put there over two years ago – a makeshift ashtray for your little sneaky smokes.   
Mary followed you, both of you taking a seat to the back of the garage roof, overlooking the street shrouded in dim streetlights.  
“Little more rebellious than I thought, huh?” he joked, tapping the flowerpot with his foot. He reached over and took the cigarette from your lips, plucking another fresh one from his pack and pushing them both between his teeth. With a zippo lighter engraved with a bat, he lit them both and passed one to you.   
“Thanks,” you smiled, taking your first lungful of nicotine. You sighed, content and relaxed.  
“Ain’t nothin’ like a cigarette after an orgasm, is there?” Mary chuckled, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke around it.   
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ for dramatic effect.   
As you took another drag, you caught sight from the corner of your eye your parents shaking the hands and kissing the cheeks of his deputy mayor and wife. Their meal must be over, the goodbye pleasantries exchanged as your parents wave off the car pulling out of your driveway. You watch quietly as they turn and head back to the porch beneath you, out of sight from where you sat.   
But Mary isn’t watching them. He’s watching you , with a creased brow and a million questions swarming around his mind. It’s not until you turn to look back at him that you notice, and you feel like you’ve somehow been caught doing something you shouldn’t.  
“Alright, I gotta ask ‘cause this is killin’ me,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette and mulling over how to word this without causing any kind of offense – something Mary usually got wrong. “What is it about me that you seem so attracted to?”  
His question caught you off guard, your brow creasing in confusion. “What do you mean?”  
“Well... I assume that in order to sleep with me – twice – you'd have to be somewhat attracted to me, right?” he shrugged. You nodded, urging him to continue, as if you still didn’t understand his question. “So, I guess what I’m asking is... what does a girl like you see in a guy like me?”  
Your expression darkened, an anger and defensiveness bubbling away inside you. This was exactly the kind of shit you expected; Mary had stereotyped you, just like the rest of them. You thought he might be different, that as an outcast himself who was stereotyped by the entire fucking town he might have given you the same leeway you had him. But no, here he was, putting you back in your neat little box.  
“What do you mean... a girl like me?”  
Mary noticed the change in your demeanour, but he was just being honest. He didn’t want to upset you, why would he? But he was overcurious, and perhaps, just a little too honest.  
“Oh, come on, doll... First night I met you, you were wearing that pretty little sundress and out with your ‘girlfriends’. Then tonight, I climb in through your window like some shitty high school movie and find your bedroom is covered in lace and frills and pink. You’ve got the trinkets and the pretty little ornaments... and your bed is covered in stuffed animals, like you’ve had that collection since you were a kid. You and I ain’t the same, we’re so polar opposite so logically, it doesn’t make sense,” he rambled. All the while, your blood boiled hotter and hotter, anger turning to rage.  
“I mean, you’re daddy’s little girl, so sweet and pretty and the town loves you. You’re too damn good for a ‘shit for brains’, ‘punk-ass kid’ like me.” Those had been direct quotes from a couple of cops who’d gotten to know Mary’s face over the years.   
“I am not ‘ daddy’s little girl’,” you seethed, “And you don’t know a fucking thing about me, Goore. You’re just like all of them, treating me like some fucking kid who can’t think for herself.”  
“I never said that, I just don’t understand why-” he started, but you cut him off.  
“No that’s just it, you don’t understand. That’s all people see of me, being his daughter...” you stood, shoving the cigarette between your teeth and walking to the edge of the roof, sitting there and dangling your feet over the edge. Mary stayed put for a second, bewildered and letting you cool off for a moment. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve. Guilt wracks through him, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, his hair still damp but now chilled in the night air.   
With a sigh, he holds his cigarette between his teeth and gets up, coming to sit down beside you without a word. He notes your scowl, and the way you avert your eyes from him.   
“So, go on... what’s the deal with your dad, then?” he asked, looking out ahead of him as he took another drag. He watches you fold your arms over your chest, the leather of his jacket squeaking as it rubs over itself.   
“Treats me like a kid, like I’m not a grown-ass woman with her own brain,” you sighed, looking down at your feet swinging over the edge of the garage. “I gotta be this perfect girl all the time, because that’s the image he created for me; the all-American, perfect family. It’s just part of his fucking political career. I don’t get a say, I never have.”  
Mary’s nose wrinkles as he thinks to himself, not quite understanding. Surely you were old enough to have your own mind, or at the very least, to redecorate.  
“Well, if you think that’s not you, why do you go along with it? You play the part very well...” he says, watching you from beside you.   
Your head snaps to look at him, a fresh anger brewing again, like someone had turned the heat right up on the stove.   
“You think so? Gee, thanks, Goore,” you mocked him in your best girl-ish, high-pitched bimbo voice.  
“I just meant-”   
“You don’t get it. Whatever. Why would you? I never asked you to give a fuck about my shit anyway.”  
Now Mary was getting pissed off, his mind working its way into overdrive as he looked at you and your little temper tantrum, thought about your life of privilege – something he’d never had. You had money, a big house, nice clothes, fucking bodyguards at the drop of a hat. And he’d had an alcoholic mother, a deadbeat father and a lifetime of people hating him for his love of metal and macabre. Your lives were total fucking parallels, and he couldn’t understand why you got so angry at your life when you had it all.  
So, he scoffed at you. “’Your shit’, huh? Sure, your struggle sound real tough, Barbie.”  
“Barbie?!” you shrieked, uncaring if someone had heard. “I’m fucking Barbie, now?”  
“Just seems to me like you don’t know privilege when you see it, doll. Even when it’s right under your nose.” He could hear it in his voice; he was being an asshole, he had no idea what your life was truly like, but he was so defensive of his own upbringing, his own issues that he wasn’t willing to see that you had any. To him, your life was perfect, and you were just being a brat.  
“Fuck you, Goore,” you spat through gritted teeth. Mary smacked his lips, nodding in anger.   
“Yep,” he said, shoving his cigarette between his teeth again, now burnt over halfway down. “Y’know what? I’m gonna go. This was fun, Barbie, but this Ken’s gotta split.” He slapped his hands against his thighs before swinging his legs up to the rooftop and standing, dusting himself off.   
“Yeah, maybe you should. Don’t think we’re exactly compatible...” you scowled, pulling your knees up to your chest as you smoked, refusing to look at him.   
He waits a moment, chewing over whether he should say anything else, try and fix this animosity and maybe even apologise. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words... Not when he didn’t see what he’d done wrong. Instead, he crouched down beside you, holding his hand out. You turned to stare at it for a moment, wondering what on earth he wanted you to do. Did he expect you to hold it? To say sorry? To go with him?  
No, none of those.  
“My jacket, Barbie,” he deadpanned, curling his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.   
You didn’t speak, instead holding your cigarette between your teeth and pulling the leather from your body. The chill hit your skin immediately, but your stubbornness refused to let it show. Instead, you slammed the jacket back in his hand, and turned away from him.   
“There, we both got our shit back. Now you’ve got no reason to come back,” you told him.   
Mary shook his head, smacking his lips one more time before he headed over to the trellis he’d climbed up, and made his way back down, avoiding the windows and making sure he wouldn’t be caught when he climbed back over the fence.   
Just as he got to his van, he turned back around to see you climbing back through your window, shoving the frame closed and storming off into your room where he couldn’t see you. Mary shook his head with an eye roll, yanking his van door open and throwing his jacket into the passenger side before he climbed in and settled into his seat. He was about to turn the key in the ignition, to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, but he stopped himself.  
Instead, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, cursing himself out.  
“Fucking idiot, man...” he chastised, throwing his head back against the battered headrest of his seat. He sat there for a while, replaying your conversation in his head. He thought of every single way that could have gone differently, how he could have handled that better rather than resorting to his usual defensive self.   
After about ten minutes of self-reflection – and frankly, self-loathing – he turned to look back at the bedroom window he’d climbed through that night, just in time to see your light switch off.  
What he didn’t know, was that you were still watching him from the darkness of your bedroom... or, at least, his van; parked where it had been all evening. He hadn’t even made a move to turn on his engine, sitting in the street in silence.   
But now, seeing your light switch off, Mary sighed to himself and found his keys to switch on the ignition. His engine roared to life, as did his stereo that was tuned to some kind of heavy metal. His headlights switched on, and you watched from your window as his van drove off into the night. Tears streaked down your face, and you became overwhelmed by that suffocating feeling of your only morsel of freedom running away from you, after you’d managed to push him away.   
You’d never felt more trapped in your all-American dream-life than you did now.  
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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6
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constantinerkives · 9 months
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Dance Macabre // Drabble
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PAIRING: Yoo Jimin x fem reader
WARNINGS: established relationship, yandere Karina, kidnapping, allusions to violence and unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, and profanity. You and Jimin have children, Chairwoman! Karina, MILF! Karina and OC, Johan Liebert reference because I love that soft-spoken manipulative villain.
A/N: Before I begin the mean girl Aeri one-shot, this prompt has been plaguing me ever since I started re-watching 'Monster' so I had to do something about it because my hyper-fixated mind won’t stop unless it’s done. So to soothe this cursed thought, I’ll write about this and be free to begin orchestrating my next one-shot.
SYNOPSIS: To you, she’s your angel. To her enemies, she is death, and to your children: she is a god.
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Your wife is a creature of habit.
You observed this when she started courting you during your college days. To you, she is the epitome of perfection; to those that cross her, she is death. 
For your safety, you must update her on your whereabouts. Karina liked knowing that she'll check the time, knowing exactly where you are and what you are doing. Failure to do so and consequences will follow. 
You didn't mind your strict schedule. You like sticking to a routine. 
Until you didn't, all it took was an argument with an entitled customer who broke your phone in anger and stormed off. And due to a broken phone, you didn't update your wife; she was angry. Karina's fury isn't like a volcano, no. It's silent, cold, and calculating. 
When you came home, the first thing you did was to get on your knees and begged for your wife to see reason - it wasn't your fault that your phone broke! But alas, your pleas fell on deaf ears - she wasn't having it.
Karina walks over to you and grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to look up at the older woman whose black, abysmal eyes swim with danger and twisted delight. She caresses your cheek, and your hope shatters as a faux disappointed sigh leaves her pretty lips.
"I still have to punish you, darling." Jimin pecks your lips. "Now run to the bedroom and wait for me, do you understand?"
"Do you understand?" Oh, the cruelty of adulthood.  
She fucked you raw and unrelentlessly, even when your throat became raw from screaming, even when your cunt was full of your mixed juices - the woman didn't stop. Not until she was satisfied.
And because of her treatment, you gave birth to her daughter nine months later. Ariadne Yoo, the carbon copy of her mother, is beautiful and sharp, even for a three-year-old. You and Karina cherished her, and it didn't take long for your daughter to ask for a sibling; naturally, you and Karina complied with your daughter's request, which brings you to your second pregnancy: another girl. 
Like your first pregnancy with Ariadne, Karina is protective of you and your unborn child. She made sure that she was updated on your whereabouts, even as far as placing a tracking device on all your jewelry. 
And it all went smoothly, until-
Pregnancy made you soft and vulnerable. That's why you felt sympathetic toward a group of innocent-looking teens whose car broke down. Motherhood made you want to make sure that this group made it home safely. 
It proved to be a stupid move because one minute later, your arms and legs were bound with tape on your mouth while they stuffed you in their supposed broke-down car and threw you into a cold, damp warehouse: a stark contrast to the luxury and comfort that your wife provided for you and your children.
After pulling the 'I'm pregnant' card, they were kind enough to make you sleep on a thin bed. And while they were discussing the desired amount for your ransom, you mull how this happened. Karina studied the map of the city to create a safe route for you to run your errands. Perhaps this is how they found out. 
They're smart, but not smart enough as your phone dings in the hands of one of your captors. She sneers and skips toward you as she shows you your wife's message. It read: 
You're late. 
Blood drains from your face. Your wife knows where you are, but she wants you to explain in front of her before she makes a verdict. 
"What's the password?" She asks; you tell her.
She licks her upper teeth as she types on your phone's keyboard. 
"Young lady," You tread carefully, "Whatever it is that you're gang wants, it's not worth it." 
She gives you a dirty look as the group stops talking and turns their attention towards you and one of their members. 
One of them scoffs, a man. "Oh, it is." He joins the young lady and drapes his arm around her shoulders. "It's easy money for your wife." He looks at her, a sick smile gracing his thin lips as his beady eyes glow with repulsive greed. 
"Shall we make it $30 Million?"
The lady gasps, "Perfect," 
"You can't spend it when you're dead." You tell them. The man's face darkens as he storms towards you and grabs you by the hair, eliciting a yelp from you. "You're in no position to threaten us, bitch." 
"Please," You plead, "You have to trust me-"
"Shut that bitch up, please." One of them jeers and the man happily obliges as he slaps your face. The side of your face stings red, and he hits you again. 
You're sure that their fate will be worse than death; Karina hates it when you get hurt. 
"Shut up, bitch." He growls, and you whimper - your instincts telling you to protect your daughter inside you. But your hands are bound. 
He looks over his shoulder, "Send the fucking message. She's starting to bore me." And they walk away from you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. 
"It's okay," You assured your unborn child. "Mommy's coming to save us." 
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Karina's hand held her phone with a vice-like grip that she thought it would crack.
Her obsidian-colored eyes glower at the photo of your fearful state with the words: $30 Million typed below your image.
How dare they touch you, her wife, her equal. 
Cold wrath surges through her body as she puts down her phone and looks at her computer where it tells her your location. You were outside the city. She estimates that it could roughly be an hour-long drive.
A knock on her door snaps her from her reverie, "What is it?"
The door opens, revealing her secretary. "Chairwoman Yoo, the investors are ready."
The older woman stands gracefully from her seat and fixes the cufflinks of her blazer. "Have Miss Hwang take care of them." Karina's voice is eerily calm as she walks past the younger woman. Her secretary follows after her.
"What are you going to do, Chairwoman Yoo?"
The black-haired beauty looks over her shoulder. "I'm going to fetch my wife."
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Pregnancy made you a heavy sleeper because moments later, you were awakened by Karina's soft hand caressing your baby bump while she cradled you. 
"Karina," You breathe. Impossible, you would've heard the screams of agony and fear. You crane your neck; your blood runs cold at the sight of their twitching bodies as they gurgle their blood. 
"Look at me, beloved." She coaxes, you obey and your eyes subtly widen. Karina's hair is tied in a high ponytail - she was presentable except for the blood splattered all over her suit and some on her face, decorating her cheeks like a demented blush. 
But she's beautiful regardless. 
"I'm sorry," You choke a sob as you hold onto her. "I tried, baby, I tried to-"
"Sh," She coaxes and pulls you closer to her, coaxing the side of your face against her soft chest as she cups the other side of your head. "It's okay, darling. It isn't your fault." 
"They're still alive, though." You whisper against her suit, and her chest rumbles with a dark chuckle. 
"I heard that dull blades are agonizingly painful than sharp ones. I will leave them to suffer for touching you and our baby, Y/N." 
With her other hand, she slips it under your knees, "Now hold tight," She stands up, "Our daughter's waiting for us at home." 
Karina effortlessly carries you to the exit of the warehouse. You take a good look at your dying captors as they lay in the pool of their blood, dull knives jutting from their bodies.
"Do you remember my first letter?" Your wife asks, forcing you to tear your gaze from the gang to answer her. 
"Of course," How could you forget? It was poetic. 
"I wrote about flowers and your love for them," She reminisces with a soft smile, a rare sight to see; you are blessed to see it. 
"And how you love peonies, especially pink ones, am I right, my love?" She looks at you. Her lips still form her rare, warm smile. 
"Yes," You sigh as you rest your right hand over her heart. 
"When we get home, you'll rest. And tomorrow, we will go to your favorite flower park so you can look at the flowers." 
You caught sight of a familiar Lincoln Continental. She opens the passenger door for you, and you allow her to guide you to the passenger seat. Karina lingers near the passenger door as she takes in your disheveled appearance. Your wife heaves a sigh, and takes your hand, her thumb rubbing the back of your palm soothingly.  
"Stay with me and Ariadne, Y/N." She comes closer. "I will give you everything. Everything is yours because I said so." 
She brings your hand to her mouth, where her lips ghost over your knuckles.
"Stay with us, and I will blanket you in flowers. I was born to smother you with flowers."
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sonnyaavce · 2 months
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DP x DC prompt # 8
CLAIRVOYANT DANNY X DCU 
He knew he had no choice when he called Constantine for help, but Commissioner Gordon dropped the case off to him; unfortunately even he wasn't able to find any leads to any suspect or clue about it; so meeting the magician was his last resort but… 
"Okay Bats, I'll help you in this case just this once, but after that we'll cut it short, okay?" John barked in annoyance as he threw his cigarette butt onto the ground; Batman just growled in annoyance at the blatant dismissal the British always did with any cases of disappearances in Gotham, citing that the city was cursed and he wasn't interested in going near the ‘toxic hotspot’
“Then, do you have any clue about it?” asked the warlock, looking as disheveled as always. Bruce just let out an exhausted sigh before handing him over the case folder and debriefed the contents of it: “The wife and child disappeared while the husband was on a business trip and once he returned, he found his house looted and destroyed, a ransom note was found; in it demanded an exorbitant sum of money for the life of his missing wife and son. However, the note was old, so the victim suspects that his wife and son are already dead, so the police couldn’t find anyone; nobody knows who did it, no suspect has been found so far and there are no video recordings of the night of the incident."
“So, why are you asking me again? By the looks of it, isn’t this just an unsolved cold case?” John grunted as he handed the folder back, but Batman only grunted, “If you look at the photo you will see why I need your insight on this” and John skimmed at the pictures again before stopping short at the picture.
The picture in question had been taken in the foyer of the mansion with the portrait of both wife and son on the floor, but the bizarre thing was, that there were covered in random runes that seemed to be eerily glowing a green hue; John's eyes widened as he stared at the peculiar sigil and runes adorning the photograph. As he studied it more intently, a chill ran down his back as he grumbled
“I might need to call someone for a favor on this one though” he took a picture of some of the evidence before sending it to whoever the magician was texting before starting to call someone, Batman didn’t care and only grunted annoyed as he listened to a one-sided conversation for a minute until the blonde was done with it.
“Who did you talk to just now, Constantine?” asked Batman once he walked closer to the Brit as he spoke some unknown incantations in midair, opening a portal to a distorted green background as he answered “just a little friend who is good with this type of death magic”
And coming out of it, floated a small child with white hair and green luminescent eyes, carrying a planchette in his hands as he closed the portal behind him; the small child-creature brightened up as he saw them and quickly floated closer, his NASA hoodie that was too big for his small body gently swayed in his hovering. 
"Interesting," Batman muttered, eyeing the child warily as it floated towards Constantine and smiled enthusiastically at the magician. Batman eyed the magician suspiciously as John ruffled the child hair before explaining, with a huff of fond exhaustion, “this is Phantom, he’s what the occult like to refer as a psychopomp and clairvoyant who helps the souls to cross over”   
"And how can he help us with the case?" The child's eyes glimmered as he spoke, a wispy voice exclaimed raising the planchette up "I help with this." said the small fey as it showed Bruce with pride it's planchette; then sided towards Constantine curiously “The dark knight smells death, is he one?” the small creature asked, making the Brit splutter in a panic “h-he’s not the one that I asked you to find, it's them!” hastily showing the picture to the kid with the strange sigils in it, the psychopomp grabbed the picture and put it under the planchette, floating down and putting the picture in the ground with the small wooden piece on top. Placing both of his arms out and closing his eyes in deep concentration, his voice who was childish in nature just some seconds ago turned heavy and echoed as it started to recite ominously:
‘por tiuj; kiuj estas perditaj, mi serĉas la animon de la perdita’ ‘konduku lin al eterna ripozo kiel promesite’ ‘do konduku min tien; kie li estas, por ke la ombroj,’  ‘kiuj kovras lin de mia vido, tute malaperu.’*
As soon the small psychopomp finished the strange incantation the small crystal in the planchette started to glow an obviously shade of toxic green for some seconds before fading away making the small child frown worriedly making both of the adults tense, Constantine moved first before tapping its shoulder cautiously "what did you manage to see?"
The small fey grumbled as he floated up, scrubbing his eyes "The missing are not here, still alive, not here, away"
-TBC-
Translation
‘for those; who are lost, I seek thy' 'to lead him to eternal rest as promised' ‘Then take me there; where is he, so that the shadows,' 'those who cover him from my sight, let them completely disappear.'
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