#murderous horrid boyfriend material

[godsblink]

oh hes here.

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.3

Summary: Penny goes to Walter's loft, so he could help her out with some school assignments

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Walter and I agreed that he would pick me up from the train station nearby and when I near the vacant parking lot, I can already see him waiting in his truck. He holds up his hand, a sign that he saw me too and I hurry towards the enormous vehicle. I barely see trucks this large here in New York, making me assume he actually brought this with him from Minnesota. Maybe he even moved here with this thing, the trunk stuffed with his belongings.

Though I highly believe this man actually didn’t bring a lot of stuff with him. He doesn’t seem like the type to be very materialistic.

When I open the door, I can’t possibly hide my smile.

Of course I thought about this for awhile (it’s all I thought about the entire class) and debated whether or not this would be a good idea. While this is definitely not a great idea, it doesn’t feel weird or scary. I mean, my mom certainly wouldn’t approve of this and I think my dad would have a stroke if he found out what I was doing.

Is this how people get murdered? Am I too naive?

I don’t think so. I trust Walter. He is a nice man and I’ve been with him alone in his office two times now. That wasn’t scary, he isn’t giving me bad vibes.

Going to his loft shouldn’t be that much different.

‘How were your classes, Penny?’ Walter asks.

A scoff leaves my lips. ‘It was horrid,’ I mumble, placing my backpack in-between my legs. ‘Professor Carter really likes hearing himself speak.’

‘That,’ he says, starting his car, ‘is true. I hate that guy.’

I chuckle. ‘Hate is such a strong word,’ I tell him. ‘I’d like to say he is simply hard to like.’

Walter smiles. ‘Of course.’

I fumble my thumbs as they are placed on my lap, taking in a breath. I’m really nervous, which is completely unnecessary. I feel safe around Walter, I feel noticed around him. It’s nice being noticed, especially by someone like Walter.

‘I didn’t know if you want something,’ Walter says, ‘so I got you some chocolate and cookies. If you don’t like that, please tell me. I can make a small detour to the grocery store.’

‘No, chocolate and cookies are perfect.’ I run my fingers through my hair, as Walter soars over the roads. His driving style fits him perfectly. He is impatient, quick and breaks abruptly, instead of slowly, a complete one eighty compared to my driving style. ‘You’re not gonna kill me, right?’

Walter starts to laugh and it’s the first time I actually see him putting his guard completely down. His eyes are smaller, the little crowfeet appear near them. ‘Of course not. I would lose my only student with sense.’

I lean back against the seat, as I watch how we get deeper into the city. I’m usually never in this part of town. I look to the side, admiring Walter’s beautifully sculptured face. The beard kinda hides it, but I know that his face is close to perfection.

‘You’re staring,’ he says, his eyes not once leaving the road.

Oh dear, I totally am. How incredibly rude of me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I quickly apologize.

‘It’s not a problem. Kinda cute actually.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You always stare in class,’ he says. ‘When things get a little gore, you start to blink really fast, you scrunch up your nose and try to stare at your fingers, but you don’t want to be rude and miss something, so you look up again. Only this time you’re squinting and you make a pretty poor attempt of hiding your disgust.’

‘Wow,’ I chuckle. ‘That’s specific.’

‘Noticing the smallest details is important in my line of work. Tell me what I do during class.’

I swallow as I try to think about everything he does in class. ‘You never look at people when you call out their name. It usually takes around a second or two, before you tear your gaze away from whatever you’re looking at. You are quite insulting when it comes to stupid answers.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You either scoff or roll your eyes,’ I note. ‘Besides, you always look bored, even when someone makes a good point.’

‘That’s because I am,’ he retorts.

‘Teaching really isn’t your thing, is it?’

He snickers. ‘Oh no. You could say I hate it with a passion. But if I do this, I could one day maybe work in the force again. It’s just a little in between jobs.’

‘You miss it, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ he answers. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever missed something that much.’

‘You miss Minnesota?’

He shakes his head. ‘I mean, a little of course, but New York is great too.’

‘Are you married? Or do you have someone?’ I ask.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I haven’t met her yet,’ he says. ‘Besides, I’m picky. You got a boyfriend?’

I can’t even stop my laughter. ‘No, of course not,’ I answer. ‘There is no one that likes me anyways.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he says in a pretty harsh tone. ‘You’re a lovely girl and any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.’

My cheeks burn up. ‘You think so?’

‘I know so, Penny. Let me tell you this: you are amazing, smart and the guy you end up with is gonna be one lucky man, since you’re probably out of his league anyway.’

He really thinks so?

Walter parks his car in the parking garage underneath the apartment building and he tells me to wait, as he gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the door for me.

‘I can open my own door, you know?’

‘I know,’ he chuckles, gesturing to hand over my bag. ‘But I couldn’t do it back at the station, so humor me for a second, okay?’

‘Of course.’ I grab his hand and he helps me out the car. Together we walk towards the elevator and I nervously roll my ankle, as we wait for the elevator to arrive at the right floor.

It abruptly stops and we walk out towards his door. He pushes it open, telling me to go in first.

His loft meets up to the expectations I had. Boring. Nearly empty. Only decorated with the necessities. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘This is exactly what I thought it would be.’

Walter hangs his coat over the back of the chair. ‘Is that so?’

I let the material of my own jacket slide off my shoulders. ‘Mhm, you have very little taste.’

‘I’d like to call it minimalistic,’ he retorts, as he takes my jacket from me hands. He tells me to sit and relax, while he makes us some tea.

I carefully take place on his couch, looking around me. Thankfully he removed all the eventual crime scene photos, files or anything related to the gory side of police work.

‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you,’ I say to Walter as he sits next to me, placing the tea on the coffee table. The couch cushion I’m sitting on, slightly dips to the right as he takes place. I have to tighten all my non existent muscles to not slide towards him, however I am not very strong, nor fit, so I bump against his side. ‘Sorry,’ I say.

‘It’s okay. Tell me, what are subjects that you struggle with.’

‘Everything,’ I admit.

He smiles. ‘Then I shall help you with everything.’

✎ ✎ ✎

My brain hurts from all the things Walter says to me and the way he answers all my questions. It’s so sweet and considerate of him to literally minimize everything to a level I could understand it. I take off my glasses as I rub my eyes. Walter has placed his arm on the armrest, our bodies closer than I’ve ever been to someone who I thought was attractive.

‘This isn’t working,’ Walter says, when it’s obvious I’m not registering anything anymore. ‘You need a break.’ He places my laptop and papers on the coffee table and stands up. He ushers me to follow him and I nearly run after him, since he’s taking such large strides.

‘Where are we going?’

He slides open the doors that lead to a little balcony. It’s just as boring as the rest of his place, but the view on the other hand is absolutely lovely. I walk towards the balustrade, holding the cold metal as I look over the city.

‘Wow,’ I say, ‘this is so beautiful.’

He smiles as he stands next to me. ‘It sure is.’

‘I’ve never saw the city like this,’ I say.

‘Where you’re from originally?’

‘Maryland,’ I answer. ‘But New York is really fun as well. Maybe even more so, if I’m being honest.’

‘I’ve never been there,’ Walter says, placing his underarms on the balustrade, so we’re around the same height. He looks to the side, at the same time the wind blows. He chuckles, when strands of my hair slap him across the face.

‘Sorry,’ I smile, as I try to contain the wild hairs.

He holds out his hand, pushing back a strand behind my ear. ‘That’s okay, Penny. You like it out here?’

‘Yes, I really do. It’s nice to take a bit of a breather. I’m sorry I am not really getting it.’

‘No, don’t be silly,’ he says, ‘you’re doing great. It’s my teaching skills that are lacking.’

I bite my lip as I take in his entire face. He is so close, just like he was back in the living room. He placed his arm on the backrest of the couch, his body so close near mine, that I could smell his lovely cologne.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he softly admits, almost as if he doesn’t want me to hear.

‘Oh,’ I whisper, slightly taken aback, ‘really?’

‘Really. You have your phone with you?’

I pull it out of my back pocket. ‘Yes, why?’

‘Allow me to memorize this moment for you.’

It’s a slightly odd request, but I give him the phone and he takes a few pictures of me. For some reason, I don’t feel awkward. Usually I take pictures by myself or I let my mom take one, but that’s only the case when she wants to make a picture for her friends to show me off.

With Walter behind the camera, I’m relaxed and not so nervous.

Which is strange. I keep forgetting he is my professor. With his head, he nods me over and I look over his arm to the phone screen. ‘They look good,’ I say.

‘Not just good,’ he says. ‘You look amazing.’

He hands me back my phone and at the same time, a slightly cold breeze causes me to tense up and shiver a bit. ‘You cold?’

‘A little,’ I admit.

‘Wait here.’

Walter walks back inside, leaving me be for a little while. I look over the city. The cars, the different type of houses. Dogs barking, young kids laughing and just people having fun in general.

‘Here you go,’ Walter says, ‘I got you a sweater and some tea.’

I look over my shoulder, to see him placing two steaming mugs of tea on the tiny table and indeed a thick sweater (one of his own) in his hands. ‘You’re really going out of your way for me,’ I admit. ‘That’s nice.’

He frowns. ‘No one’s ever gone out of their way for you before?’

I shake my head.

‘Let me be the first then.’ He actually helps me into the sweater and gently pulls out my hairs from the sweater.

I take place on the slightly uncomfortable chair. It’s a bit windy, but not unpleasant. Especially not when I’m wearing a sweater this warm.

‘What are you thinking?’ I ask Walter.

He shrugs. ‘Just something crossed my mind, but I don’t want to intrude.’

‘You could never. If someone is intruding, then it’s totally me. I mean, I literally am at your place, because school’s too hard for me. Seriously, you can ask me anything you want.’

‘When did you find out you were placed at the church?’

I wrap my fingers around my mug and say: ‘My mom always said that I was a special delivery from the stork. I knew I was adopted, but I never thought more of it. My parents were simply my parents, even though they didn’t look like me. One day a kid in my class thought it was stupid I had white parents, when I clearly wasn’t, I realized it maybe was a bit weird. So I asked them about it and they told me the entire story.’

‘Must’ve been hard,’ Walter says.

I shrug. ‘Kinda.’

‘Does it bother you to this day? In your day to day life?’

These are very intense questions. He really does want to get to know me better, right? ‘You kinda carry it with you all the time,’ I say. ‘Oh no, I’m gonna cry.’ I blink my eyes fast, as I try to redirect both my feelings and his attention. ‘This is stupid, I’m sorry.’

‘No, no, no,’ he says, in such a soft and caring tone, that it almost makes me cry a little more. When was the last time someone was this caring about me outside my family? ‘Don’t apologize for your feelings.’

It just doesn’t match. His uninterested appearance versus this hidden caring nature of his. He leans forward and places his hand on my knee. A simple gesture, enough however to stop my heart from working. ‘I’ll try,’ I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks. ‘I promise.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After the well needed break, I was in the right mindset and managed to get a lot of work done. Turns out: I’m not stupid, I’m just a bit slow from time to time. Having someone that helps me, gives me a better understanding of it all.

‘You know,’ I say, as I pack my stuff in my bag, ‘your hair is quite dry and frizzy.’

‘Is it?’ Walter asks with a chuckle. ‘You have some nerves, young lady, to tell me my hair is frizzy after I helped you out.’

‘Just want to give you a bit of advice in return,’ I snicker.

‘Well, since you want to go to cosmetology school so badly, you tell me next week what products I need to use and I’ll be your test subject, how about that?’

He wants to see me again? Or does he mean after school? Or simply through texts?

‘Really?’

‘Of course, Penny.’

‘Thank you again for helping me out,’ I say. ‘I know this isn’t exactly in your job description.’

‘I’m happy to help, if it’s in my job description or not.’ He grabs my coat and helps me in it. ‘You want a lift?’

I shake my head. ‘It’s still light outside and I can go by bus. I need to do some groceries anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I am sure,’ I say. ‘Really, it’s not a big deal.’

‘Just share your location with me, okay? I want to make sure you’re back safe.’

Walter is such a caring and loving man, though he tries to hide it underneath all that grumpiness.

‘Okay, will do,’ I say, after I put on my shoes. I place my bag on the floor, grab my phone and start sharing my location with him for the next four hours. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him, when I push my phone in my back pocket and the two of us lock eyes.

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I just really got to know you. That was nice.’

I smile. ‘It totally was,’ I say. ‘I’d like to get to know you a bit more next time.’

Next time? I’m really suggesting a next time?

Walter barely responds to it, only a small cocking of his eyebrow. ‘Next time,’ he says. ‘You’ll get to know plenty about me.’ He takes a step forward, only for me to be able to smell his cologne. Gosh, what does one say right now?

While I’m contemplating the best topics, Walter seemed to have no issue coming up with something. ‘You’re staring again,’ he notes.

‘No, I’m not,’ I say to him, way too quickly. ‘Okay, maybe I was.’

You have to ask me again later on how exactly, but somehow my back is pressed against the wall. Walter places his hand on my cheek, his calloused thumb brushing over my parted lips. I don’t know where to look, but my gaze stops at his kissable looking lips.

His body is pressed against mine and two slow seconds passes before I feel his lips on mine.

What is this? Is he truly kissing me? I can’t believe this. My first kiss. I hold onto his thick sweater, my fingers wrapping tightly on the fabric, almost solely because my knees start to wobble like crazy. It’s the first time I felt someone’s lips on mine. Someone’s beard scratching my chin. Never before did I feel someone’s tongue carefully over my bottom lip. He cages me in between his thick arms. He is so much more overpowering, dominant, but boy, is it a role that suits him so well.

Much to my dismay, he pulls back to flash me a tiny smile. ‘I’ve been thinking about doing this for quite some time now today.’

‘Why?’ I ask him.

He smiles. ‘Just because,’ he says.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it too,’ I whisper.

‘What stopped you from doing it?’

‘You’re my professor, Walter.’

He nods. ‘I know. That should’ve stopped me,’ he admits.

‘No, no,’ I say, placing my hands on both sides of his face. ‘Don’t let it stop you. Please don’t.’ It sounds slightly needy, but I can’t help it. It’s the first time in my entire life I feel this alive. With his understanding, I notice finally the ability for me to figure out who I am as a person. However, those words stay close to my heart. I bite my bottom lip and he interprets it as an invitation and I’m so thankful he does.

The kiss is less soft than the previous one, far more intense. I don’t want to stop kissing him. His lips part from mine, evading his way to my nape to press wet kisses on the delicate skin. My fingers run through his hair. ‘Walter,’ I say and he looks up. I always notice the shift in gazes when he is with me. So much softer, gentle and caring than he is in class or with others. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure about what?’

‘Me?’

A crooked smile appears on his lips. ‘I’ve never been so sure.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Once I got home, realization truly hit. I just kissed my professor.

Was it smart? No.

Will I do it again? Probably.

Oh my, I’m falling for him, aren’t I? I had this insanely goofy grin on my face as I sat in the bus, did my groceries and went to my dorm. I bet I looked like a moron, but I couldn’t help myself. Walter’s lips on mine felt so good.

Those lips will be all I am going to think about. I take off my coat, only to realize I’m still wearing his sweater. It smells like him, his wonderful cologne.

I’m this deep in thoughts and little dreams, that I yelp when I hear a text coming in.

Walter: You’re home safe, right?

Oh, that’s right. I was sharing my location with him.

Me: Yes, I just walked in

Walter: Did you lock your door?

Me: Yes

Walter: Okay good

Me: Thanks for your help btw

Walter: Of course, not a problem

Me: I think I’m gonna go get ready for bed

Walter: Alright, princess

Walter: Good night

✎ ✎ ✎

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

you’re screwed up and brilliant and look like a million dollar man

summary: murder gloves.

warnings: S M U T. sex everywhere. it’s violent sometimes. what’s a safe word? lol ransom wouldn’t know. (seriously, reader tells him to stop a few times and he doesn’t, so pls do not read if that is upsetting to you) and they’re annoying, legit can’t talk without fighting. and that daddy kink because y’all know me. a lot of choking. very vanilla bondage. spanking. fluffy feelings about sweaters.

word count: a bit over 8,000

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: lol and nearly THREE FUCKING MONTHS LATER 🙄🙄🙄🙄 truly, i am sorry. i hope that you picture a raccoon with creepy evil little hands when you think of me bc i am trash. and i have creepy evil little hands. you guys know how excited i got when i thought of this title, right?

It was your anniversary even though it hardly felt like one at all.

Six years today. Somehow, you had put up with all the shit. His horrid behavior at times. The family drama. The extravagant events Harlan planned that your high maintenance boyfriend never let you miss. Whenever you tried it, he either pouted or just fucked you until you wouldn’t dream of ever saying the word ‘no’ to him. At least not for a few days.

Six years.

Yet, you were sure he was still nowhere near proposing. That was a battle for the next anniversary, you had decided. This anniversary required much more pressing topics to be discussed.

You heard Ransom pull up in the driveway and come inside, but you kept your place at the counter. When he found you in the kitchen, you were in a thin robe, making him an Old Fashioned while your coffee brewed.

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he sat at the dining table. His eyes lingered on you for a moment but then he turned down to his phone, so you took your chance to stare. After all these years, you would think that the sight of him in a sweater wouldn’t matter to you, but it still did.

You’d met him in a sweater, several December’s ago at a ski lodge where you had bonded over unfathomable resentment toward your respective families and an inability to ski—something he still wouldn’t admit. I can ski, I just wanted to fuck you. You were practically begging me. Was I supposed to say no? That wasn’t exactly how it happened but when Ransom pouted, that often meant no sex, so you let him lie. Regardless, he was beautiful then and you swore he got more beautiful by the day.

He lifted both hands onto the tabletop in front of him, phone set against his palm, showing off those stupid leather gloves that were starting to make you question your sanity. You thought about those gloves too much and in the most depraved ways.

“Did you get the house?” you asked, a distraction for yourself. No sex, not until he gave you an answer. Hell, he was gone most of the day with Marta, so he damn well better have some success to report.

He narrowed his eyes, lifting his gaze from his phone screen. “Why are you so dressed?”

Normally, he liked you walking around the house in nothing. A bodysuit, maybe. A bra, panties, and thigh-high socks. He liked you as naked as you could get. You liked it as well, it reminded him that even though, most of the time, he was in control, there were times when it was you. You who had final say, you who would withhold sex as some deranged power play. Sure, you needed Ransom like you needed oxygen or money, but he needed you just as much.

The robes were for occasional visitors. He knew that, he was just trying to prolong this conversation. He was trying to bait you, actually. If you were feeling…playful, you would have lied or refused to tell him. Then, long story short, you wouldn’t have been able to walk or sit right for a week. It wasn’t that he even needed such an elaborate reason to start this game, this time he was just trying to distract you.

“Joni stopped by.”

He gave you a flat look. Nothing confused him more than you sincerely getting along with Joni.

“She brought some crystals for us.”

“Rocks,” he corrected. “And they’re damn ugly and they’re not staying in my house.”

“Tiger’s eye for mental clarity,” you explained, voice level. It was your house too, and if he wanted to play this game, well, you had no problem throwing a chair through the window. Again. “Amethyst, for protection and stress—and intuition! It’s great for the third eye chakra—”

“Don’t start all that bullshit with me—”

“You’re just mad that I’m psychic—”

“No, you are not,” he snapped.

“Scared I’m going to find out about whoever else you’re fucking?” Okay, he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. If you truly thought that, you would have been so far out the door the second you had a suspicion. Ransom was good. Even though he liked to pretend he wasn’t.

He glared. “It’s a god damn scam—”

“Your family specializes in those.”

“She’s not family.”

“Meg is,” you pointed out. It was left unstated but blatantly clear that that did, in fact, mean that Joni was family also.

“Joni thinks you have money, she’s trying to play you.”

“They don’t need to play me, Ransom. I like Meg, she’s nice…and she’s finishing her degree. I’ll make sure of that, with or without your help. And I like Joni, you know, she was the first one who was nice to me. Other than Walt, I guess—”

“Yeah, he was nice because he wants to fuck you.”

“You think everyone wants to fuck me.”

“Joni does, too.”

“Oh yeah, your whole family?”

“My grandfather included.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you not be so…you, right now? Please, he’s fucking dead, Ransom.”

“He was a fucking perverted bastard. He always stared at you, tried to get you alone as much as possible. And don’t even get me started on that time he had you on his lap—”

“It wasn’t like that,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow.

So, you were sitting on Harlan’s “lap”. It was Christmas, Harlan had dressed up as Santa. Ransom liked to pretend that Meg and Marta weren’t in the picture with you. Okay, maybe it was that you were trying to make him mad. You remembered that to be around the time you discovered that angry sex with Ransom was something else, something you truly weren’t sure how you had lived without.

You walked his drink to him and you watched as he downed the entire glass.

“Make me another. Please.”

You returned to the counter to oblige. You weren’t much of a cook, neither was Ransom, but he had the strongest desire to see you acting domestic for him. Sometimes, that just meant you making him drinks or bringing him a beer. You didn’t mind, so long as he watched you the entire time.

You once again set the glass in front of him. “So, your mother wants to fuck me?”

He eyed you, lifted the glass to his lips, took a small drink, set it down, then he nodded once. Instead of speaking, he went back to texting on his phone.

“Donna?”

“Not family, but yes.”

“Jacob?”

He scoffed. “Yes, he would fuck you. Also, possibly tie you up and dismember you after that—”

“Nana?”

Again, his eyes narrowed at you. He knew you were up to something now. He lifted one of his hands, smirking when he saw how intently your eyes were following it. He pulled at the tie of your robe; it was such slinky material that it slipped off your shoulders just after it was loose enough.

Your bodysuit was lace because Ransom loved you in lace. It was a tiny white scrap with thin straps and cups that your breasts spilled out of when you bent over. You were never one for modesty, but there was always something that made you want to cover up whenever Ransom was looking at you—even though his eyes were always full of lust and appreciation.

He let his hand return to the table and he looked at his phone.

Seriously? That was it? You shoved his phone away, it clattered to the table a few inches over, and you sat down on top of him. Your arms around his neck, your knees pressed to his hips, hovering over his soon-to-be hard cock. “And what about your dad?”

“Excuse me?” he demanded.

“Does he wanna fuck me? Because maybe I should ask him to get me that house and maybe fucking him would be all the motivation he needs, motivation you clearly are not feeling—”

You heard his arm brush across the table and then his glasses were shattering to the floor. Before you could scold him, his hand tangled tightly in your hair and he jerked you down flat to the table. He abruptly stood, leaning over you, his face mere inches away from yours.

You should have been scared; you knew that. He was so strong and he rarely ever stopped to think, he was fast actions and apologies later. But this was Ransom and you couldn’t be scared of Ransom.

“Wanna try that again?” he challenged. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“I would love to sit on his face,” you stated. “And I would love to feel his m—”

He gripped your jaw with his free hand and you utterly melted. You couldn’t explain coherently how much you needed that cold leather against your skin. Despite what you knew he had done with those gloves. Hell, maybe that was why you liked them so much. All of his scheming and malice, the killing. But then he would come home to you and he was so soft and so sweet, until he wasn’t, until he was fucking you, spanking you, choking you.

“You. Little. Brat. I got the fucking house for you—”

“You did?” you blurted out.

You suddenly realized, of course. That was why he hadn’t answered you. He knew you were getting impatient and he knew you would act out. Now, he would get to punish you. You would have been mad but the Thrombey house was the most beautiful house you had ever laid eyes on. The idea of building an actual life with Ransom there, in a house that he loved even though he wouldn’t admit it to his parents, only made you happy.

“I did,” he promised. “And now, you have to earn it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Brats don’t get houses.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you accused. “I’m not earning anything. Every day I fucking put up with you, I earn that fucking house.”

“You just made a comment about wanting to fuck my dad—”

“No, I said I wanted your dad to eat me out. There’s a difference.”

He pressed his fingers into your jaw harder and yanked a little on your hair. “Say you’re sorry, baby doll.”

“Fuck. You.”

He narrowed his eyes, hand snapping from your face down to the clasp of your bodysuit that lay between your legs. He yanked it open, settling his hips against your knees to hold you open for him.

He never moved his eyes from yours and you, if only to meet his challenge, did the same. “I swear, you better not be wet.”

He was in a fucking sweater, what did he expect? You figured voicing that question would do nothing for you, probably only make him even more conceited. No, silence could damn you if that meant Ransom was knocked down a little.

“Or you’ll have to be my father’s latest mistress because I will fucking throw you out.”

“Well, maybe he’s better than you,” you pointed out.

Instead of a verbal response, his leather-clad fingers smacked your cunt.

Pleasure was right on the tail of pain, so close that you weren’t sure what you were feeling. Yes, it hurt, but wow—it fucking hurt. Half of you wanted to retract from the pain but as it settled, you immediately wanted more. If you weren’t wet before… Your body was vibrating with your undeniable need for him, but still, fuck him. He’d been an ass since he walked in and you didn’t feel like just giving in.

“Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded, only because he was smirking at you and staring with knowing eyes. “Get the fuck off of me.”

He snorted at what you both knew was a sad attempt on your part.

You began to struggle against him, attempting to push him back with your knees. “Ransom, let me go.”

He forced you into a sitting position with the hand still in your hair and let go just to grab your wrists. His other hand grabbed quickly at the scarf around his neck.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you warned.

He shoved you back down, forcing your arms above your head.

“Ransom, I swear—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss as he wound his scarf around you in some complex way that he probably wouldn’t even be able to get you out of when this was all over.

You turned your head away, and he moved his mouth to your neck. “If you do not untie me, I am going to leave and never come back!”

He bit you hard enough to leave a mark before pulling back to set himself onto his forearms. “And live where? The street? Or you wanna go crawling back to your fucked-up parents?”

“Tell them I finally came to my senses; they’d take me back.” Long story short, your parents fucking hated Ransom. They thought he would never do anything for you or give you anything.

It didn’t help that you sort of cut back on work once you’d met Ransom. He was possessive, he just didn’t want you flying all over the world if you couldn’t take him with you. And you couldn’t because his family was beyond demanding and Ransom still had to show up now and then at whatever theatric event Harlan could think up. And as a model…taking pictures with men sometimes, or other women, wearing very little? Well, Ransom would never ask you to quit but he was always so insecure afterward. You still had your campaigns, a few projects you did with friends, but you were hardly a model anymore.

But well, your parents were obviously fucking wrong. He got you the house. The first time he had taken you there was to meet his grandfather—which was huge because it was the first time Ransom was letting you get that close to him. He hadn’t anticipated Joni and Meg being there but you hadn’t complained. He had, non-stop. Still, it was something…special. He’d shown you his old room and fucked you. Took you out to the woods and fucked you against every awful statue out there. Then took you to his parents’ room and, of course, fucked you there.

They were meant to show the next week, you’d left before that. Much to his pleasure, his mother left him a screaming voicemail or two or seven once she’d realized what had been done on those silk sheets.

You’d fallen in love with the house and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to an outsider. At the will reading, when it was announced that it belonged to Marta, you nearly fainted. Ransom had been so damn calm though, up until he was laughing like the god damn psychopath that you’d always suspected he was.

That was five days ago and things between the two of you had been…unconventional. When he had shown up that night—after ditching you, no less, to do whatever he was doing with Marta—you immediately started fighting. You had to get a fucking Uber! And he refused to apologize because, according to him, you were “having an attitude”. Things were thrown, insults were traded, and it was the longest night of your whole relationship.

It was only two days ago that you admitted to the root of your hostility. The house. He couldn’t lose the house. It wasn’t like you thought you were going to be living in it any time soon, but when he did finally propose, maybe things would work out that way. The following morning, he apologized with a diamond necklace and the promise that he would get the house back from Marta.

“Or you could just apologize,” he pointed out.

See, he never did, and in all your time with him, you decided you never would either. It was a good relationship. The sex was amazing, you guys never lied, never cheated, but there were a few communication barriers that neither one of you wanted to mend. Who really needed the word ‘sorry’?

“Seriously, Ransom, fuck you.”

He sighed, but that did little to hide how thrilled he was that you wanted to fight today. “I try to be nice to you, you know. But you don’t want nice, do you?” He jerked you up higher on the table by your arms and crawled his way over you. His forearms were on either side of your head and his leg was coming up to settle between yours.

The table had been freezing, but with him over you, and his heavy coat caging you in, you were just hot. Too hot. The snow-covered back yard seemed the better option at that moment. Anything to get away from him.

“Ransom,” you sighed. “Enough, stop—”

He pressed his knee against you and you shuddered. It hadn’t been long at all, so why you were so desperate was beyond you. Since Harlan, Ransom truly had a new outlook on life. He was impulsive and selfish before, but after the death of his beloved grandfather, there was nothing that could stand in the way of what he wanted. And what he often wanted was you, not that you were complaining.

“Get yourself off, baby.”

You glared up at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Yes, you heard, but what the fuck?! You didn’t get yourself off. He was controlling enough to need to dictate every single one of your god damn orgasms and if it wasn’t because of his mouth, his fingers, or his cock, it wasn’t happening. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not sure if I’m going to let you finish at all,” he explained. “I suggest you do it yourself.”

You theorized that if you complied now, then maybe he would forget he was so angry and just fuck you. That had happened a few times before, he did always tend to pout when he remembered, though.

Despite your pride and the burning you felt on the tip of your tongue because you sincerely wanted to yell at him, you rolled your hips. It was tentative almost, which made him scoff. The material of his pants was too soft and with no assistance from him and your awkward angle… You figured he was enjoying making you work for this so much.

After what you said about Richard? There was no way you were going to be able to convince him to help you. You supposed he didn’t need to. Hell, you didn’t even need to finish. He just had to think you did. You turned down to watch, moved your hips faster, started making just a little more noise—

“You’re faking.”

You stopped altogether with a huff. “I am not!”

“You are. You wanna know how I know? Because for the past few years, every orgasm in your life has been because of me. You don’t know how to get off without me.”

“You are such an ass.”

“You don’t just want to ask for some help?” He looked down, one hand lowering slowly. “You know I can be very helpful when I need to be.”

You watched, gasping just when he pulled his hand away. “Ransom.”

“Let me just take the gloves off—”

You whined an incoherent protest. You knew that he knew.

He pretended to be confused, eyebrows pulled together. “You want me to keep them on?”

You frowned at him.

“Why?”

“Fuck off, Ransom.” You didn’t know why! Your only theory was that you were just as messed up as him and that you needed to make an appointment with a mental healthcare professional!

He smiled widely, and you hated how that made your heart skip a little. He always smirked, rarely ever smiled, so when he did, you were screwed. “You want to hear about it again? About how I murdered my grandfather?”

You snorted. “Oh, is that what happened? I thought Marta murdered Harlan—”

“She didn’t.”

“She’s the one who gave him the medicine,” you pointed out. “You didn’t have to do anything except switch a vial.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Are you going to kill me, too? Oh, correction, are you going to get the help to kill me, too?”

“I might.”

“God, you are disgusting.”

He finally released your wrists to grab your jaw again. “Keep your arms up, I won’t tell you a second time.”

You were already moving them down, stopping right when you heard his threat. With a soft sight, you settled back against the table.

“Good girl.”

You wanted to hit him.

His thumb and forefinger pressed hard against your cheeks until you opened your mouth. He took that as his chance to slide two fingers inside your mouth until you gagged. You closed your mouth anyway, refusing not to meet one of his challenges.

They tasted even worse than you had imagined but you weren’t going to stop. You started to grind against his thigh again. It was better now, like maybe this was going to be enough to get you off.

He set his forehead to your temple, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You don’t want to hear what happened after we left the party, after I fucked you in the car so good you couldn’t stand?”

Oh, that night. Where to begin with that night. It was Harlan’s birthday party, you’d been to all the ones before that and they’d gone off without…okay, well, there were definitely hitches, but nothing you hadn’t come to expect. Nothing that lasted too long. Yes, this family was all kinds of fucked up, but they never stayed away from one another for too long.

You had assumed Ransom’s argument with Harlan was going to be just another one of those cases. You’d been talking to Walt and Linda, the latter trying to ignore her husband’s attempts at pulling her into an argument he was having with Joni. Walt was talking about the company again; it didn’t bore you or Linda like it did everyone else.

Ransom’s voice carrying out from Harlan’s office startled everyone silent. He stormed out just to grab you and drag you outside, all while his family watched from windows at the front of the house. You told him to stop, which he didn’t. You told him your heels were a hazard, which he ignored.

When he started driving, you were honestly scared. Ransom was hardly a cautious driver generally, so when he was angry? And god, he was angry. You were sure you had never seen someone else get to him the way that Harlan had.

And he was ignoring you. He wouldn’t tell you what they fought about, but he always told you. It was, very simply, too much, and you were not going to put up with it. It was dark, cold, and Ransom had been drinking. You directed him to stop the car, and as firm as you hoped you were being, you were stunned when he listened.

The way he looked at you was so unlike any way he had ever done it before. You were more than just confused and you were a little worried, there was realization in his eyes. You could see that his mind was moving and you had known him long enough to know that that never meant anything good.

He demanded that you get out of the car and you did, even though part of you was worried he was going to leave you there. He followed, coming around to lead you into the of the car. He wrapped one hand around your throat and pinned you against the car door with his body, his chest to your back. His free hand was working his clothing out of the way, then fumbling to open the door.

He wordlessly shoved you against the seat, shoving your dress out of the way. Before you could say a word, he was inside you, his body covering yours. His hold around your throat was tight, and you knew that meant that he didn’t want to talk. That didn’t shut him up, however.

He just kept saying he was going to take care of you, and he didn’t loosen his hand until he asked you if you wanted him to take care of you. You said you did. He asked if he had taken care of you up to that point. You said that he had. He asked you if you trusted him. You said you did.

He left you in the backseat, covered in his cum and reddening marks on your neck, hips, and breasts, wrapped in his coat. He turned the car off and you echoed with just about 100 questions, none of which he directly answered. He said you couldn’t come with him because well, you honestly couldn’t walk.

The following morning, you woke up in bed while Ransom was making breakfast. Well, okay, you hadn’t actually seen him make anything, but since you didn’t find any restaurant containers, you couldn’t throw that accusation at him. He brought you pancakes to eat in bed and you guys had an amazing morning together.

By noon, the family was calling both of you with news of Harlan’s death.

He pressed his free hand over your face, covering your nose, and shoved his fingers deeper down your throat. You were choking and that didn’t frighten you like it should have. Some of the best orgasms you’d gotten from Ransom were when you were choking on his fingers or his cock.

You didn’t stop rocking your hips until you were finishing and you never once looked away from him. He stared into your eyes the entire time because it was undeniable at this point, Ransom had a kink for murder, and this was as close as he was going to get to it with you—some minor breath play.

He pulled away from you completely, stepping back onto the floor. He glanced down with a self-satisfied smirk, admiring the mess you had made on his pant leg. His amusement only grew as he watched you try to catch your breath.

You were still coming down when you felt Ransom leave the space between your legs. Glancing around the room, you found him at the counter. His back to you, you heard him pour some bourbon in a glass. You weren’t much of a bourbon person but whenever you tasted it on Ransom’s tongue, you never minded it too much.

When he returned to you, it was with a knife from the block on the counter. A large knife, you wondered what he would do if you made a comment about him compensating for something. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He smirked. “You scared?”

You snorted. “No.”

Arching an eyebrow, he pressed the blade down just barely against your thigh, dragging it upward toward your soaking center.

You had to bite your lip as he touched you there, just a tease because he didn’t truly want to cut you. The cool surface made goosebumps rise on your legs and your heart began to pound with excitement. You often wondered if you would be this fucked up if you had never found Ransom.

He lifted it to your chest, eyes bright as they followed the knife. He pressed down just slightly harder and led the knife to your shoulder. Your heart dropped the second you realized what he was doing.

“Ransom—”

“Shut up.”

“This is a piece from Megan Fox’s collaboration with Fredrick’s—” You felt the snap of your bodysuit’s strap and your jaw dropped.

He smirked down at you, proceeding to the next side to do the same.

“You fucking psycho!” you reprimanded. You thought dating a man with too much money and a narcissistic concern for his appearance would have given him at least some respect for clothing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? You’re the one so wet over a god damn knife.”

“You can’t just destroy my clothes!”

“Well,” he shrugged, “just did. The fuck are you going to do about it? And consider your answer carefully, you know, if you want that house so badly.”

“It’s already my house,” you declared. “You got it for me. Stop pretending—”

“Pretending what? That I couldn’t find someone to replace you in a second? I bet Marta would be up for it.”

You shut up immediately, just staring at him. You knew Ransom liked it when your anger was quick. And truly, the last thing you wanted was to give him anything he wanted. You weren’t trying to be jealous in any way, but you’d always wondered how he felt about Marta.

He seemed to like talking to her—albeit, he also liked talking to Meg…just to get a rise. But he also liked getting a rise out of you, clearly. You just wanted to know. And he wouldn’t answer you, any time you asked him how he felt about someone else, he just fucked you.

“Now, don’t pout—”

“Fuck you—”

“Don’t be such a baby—it was a joke.”

“I don’t care,” you proclaimed. “You know, you can fuck her if you want.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, humming. “Please do. Then I’ll follow up with your dad.”

He snorted. “That’s getting weak.”

“You think he wants me to call him daddy?”

He took your neck in his hand. “If you say that again, I’ll fucking…”

“What?” you demanded. “What the fuck are you going to do, Ransom?”

Suddenly, he was kissing you. You’d blinked, then he was over you, hand tearing down your bodysuit as he held you by the throat. He stood to toss the bodysuit out of his way, eyes tracing your body.

He didn’t seem to care that you were completely out of breath by the time he’d pulled away, you didn’t either. This was something you both had in common. In moments like these, nothing mattered. You both did and said whatever you wanted, but by the time he was inside you, it was all forgotten.

“I’m moving out,” you announced.

He snorted. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going back home; I can’t stand another day with you.”

“You ever try to leave me and I will drag you back. Every fucking time, Y/N.”

You scoffed weakly. “Learn to hear the word no. You’ll need to. Now that you’re poor, especially.”

“You think that’s what this is?” He still wasn’t looking at your face, just your naked body as if he’d never seen it before. “You think it’s because I’ve never been told no?”

“What else would it be?”

He snorted. “Try to be less transparent. Is this your way of asking what we are?”

You knew what you were. To an extent. It was just that sometimes, Ransom wasn’t the most traditional, and you were okay with that. But well, it had been 6 years. You were waiting on the future to start, the engagement, the ring, changing your last name, possibly starting a family. But well, Ransom hadn’t even told you he loved you. You knew he did, love wasn’t just words, and he definitely showed you, but it would be nice to hear. Still, that was not what you had been asking… okay, maybe it kind of was what you were asking.

“No, I couldn’t care less. I won’t have to stay with you much longer anyway… I would never date anyone poor.”

“Baby, call me poor one more time and your ass is going to be so sore.”

He was in such an odd mood. You didn’t know exactly what he wanted. It had sounded like he’d wanted to fight, then he started getting…well, sappy for him. Now, he was threatening to spank you for stating fact?

“Look at that,” he taunted, smirking at your silence. “You can be such a good girl when you try.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I should give you incentive to shut your mouth more.”

“Excuse—”

He shushed you as his free hand pressed to your pussy.

You quieted only because you forced your mouth shut. You hadn’t been sure how the leather gloves were going to feel, if you should like them… But well, you did. And maybe you didn’t want him to know that.

But he did, that much you could tell from the arrogant look in his eye. You closed your eyes, letting your head roll back against the table. Whatever, you might as well get an orgasm for all this trouble he’d given you.

He traced small, gentle circles around your clit and you couldn’t even remember what you’d been arguing about. You knew he was watching you; you knew you shouldn’t be giving in so easy. That was why he was a dick; he knew you would let him be because he knew how to fuck you well. Two fingers easily slipped inside you—at least you thought it was two, you couldn’t tell.

You were caught off guard. It had been years since you’d felt something inside you other than Ransom*.

Was it supposed to feel good? What you liked was that these gloves were not supposed to be inside you, yet there they were. Ransom didn’t seem to care that they were close to a thousand dollars. You remembered glaring at him when he showed them to you, sent to him by one of his few friends, a designer (🙄) You had lectured him. They were real leather! You did not believe in killing animals for fashion. It was your one rule. You’d never participated in a campaign or contract if there was an animal harmed in the making.

But now, here you were, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers as he wore those sickening gloves. It was a strange sensation, maybe not good, but not bad. He started to crook his fingers against that spot that he could now locate in record time, and so it didn’t matter what it felt like anyway.

He leaned over you, grabbing one of your arms to pull you into a sitting position. “Watch, baby girl. Watch your pussy take my fingers.”

You turned down and at an agonizing speed, his fingers disappeared inside you. He crooked them twice before pulling them out almost completely. The gloves were embarrassingly wet and you could feel your cheeks heating because of it.

“Can you take another?” he inquired.

You weren’t capable of forming thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to want an answer. He pulled his fingers back, pushing three back in.

Your head dropped back and you closed your eyes. “Fuck, Ransom, please—”

“Keep watching, baby—I’m only going to tell you once.”

You hurriedly turned back; struggling to keep your eyes open and your hips still. Watching made you anxious because you knew exactly when you were going to feel what and you were simply not patient enough for your tease of a boyfriend.

“You hear how wet you are? Your pussy is so desperate…I bet it could take all four of my fingers. What do you think?” He took your jaw, turning your gaze up to him. “Hmm?”

You began to eagerly nod. “Yes.”

He pulled his arm back and let his pinky join as he moved it forward—once more, you felt yourself blushing at how easily they all slipped inside. It was a delicious stretch that was already driving you crazy. He rarely ever got to four fingers, by the time he was three in, that usually meant he was ready to fuck you. He always tried though, mindful of his size and how difficult it was to take him sometimes.

You sighed his name and whimpered a plea, you did not know what for, but he did. His free hand wrapped around your neck and he leaned in to kiss you, the fingers inside you still curling skillfully. His lips were soft against yours, a notable contrast to everything else he was doing.

“What is it about these gloves that get you so wet? he pressed. “Huh? Let me tell you, my love, about all the bad things I’ve done in them.” He seemed completely detached as he recounted all those events that you had missed because he’d wanted you to miss them, you wondered if he’d decided to that just so he could bring it up while he was fucking you.

Everything was calm and slow. Then he said Fran’s name and his hold on your neck tightened, and he started fucking you with his fingers, relentless in pressure and pace. His stare was locked on yours and you noticed how he brightened when tears finally filled your eyes. You would start turning a terrible red soon, you knew because he’d choked you enough times in the mirror. He always liked it so much so you never complained.

You had run out of air several long seconds ago and that was why your finish was coming so harshly. You just hoped he couldn’t tell because he would undoubtedly make you wait.

“I liked killing her,” he told you. “I would do it again. She was standing in the way—our way of the future I want to give to you. I’d fucking kill anyone for you, baby, you know that?”

“Yes,” you coughed. You didn’t think he killed Fran for you. Maybe, maybe on some low level, but it was ultimately for him. You didn’t mind that, though.

He smirked. “Say my name.”

He loved it when you were choking but still so desperate for him that you wasted what little oxygen you did have on saying his name, letting him know that he was pleasing you. You obliged and his hand instantly fell away from your neck. You took a deep breath in, coughing as you tried to blink away your tears.

He grabbed your hands and put them over his pants. “You feel how hard you’re making me, baby?”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers in anticipation, you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you. You hurriedly searched for the button on his pants until he shoved your hands away.

“No, not yet.” He grabbed your neck again and then crouched down, immediately burying his lips in your pussy.

A strangled yell came from your parted mouth, pure nonsense. You grabbed his forearm, a pathetic attempt to keep yourself sitting up, not that he would have let you fall if he didn’t want you to.

He tilted his head back to look up at you as his fingers kept working you. “Keep saying my name, baby.”

You did so three times before he finally placed his mouth back on you. You were shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly. Your end had built up to this impossibly high place, you were sure it was because your last orgasm was so unsatisfying.

Regardless, he’d barely been on his knees long at all when you knew you would come soon. And fuck, you needed to come. “Ransom—I—I’m—”

“You’re close?” he spoke against your hot, wet flesh, humming as he started sucking your clit gently. “Hm, baby?”

“Yes!” you sobbed.

And you couldn’t so much as blink before he was standing, pulling you off the table by your hips. You came crashing down hard, collapsing onto the table as you realized what was happening. You had been confused for only a second, but then, this was Ransom—why would you expect anything else?

That fucking piece of shit.

You were leaned over the edge of the table, legs shaking so much that he had to hold you up. Your bound arms were in front of you, unable to offer you any assistance. You wanted to push him away or kick him but you worried about your physical safety if you tried. The only thing that could make this situation worse was falling on your ass in front of Ransom.

The dick probably wouldn’t help you up.

You rested your forehead against the table, that was when you realized you were crying. Your cheeks were hot and lined with trails of tears. “I fucking hate you.”

His hand came down on your exposed ass with no warning at all.

You yelped, attempting to pull away from him.

He held you right where he wanted you with one hand closed around your hip bone.

“You’ve been acting like a brat this whole time, what the fuck did you expect?”

“Absolutely nothing from you!” you hissed. “You can’t fucking do anything right!”

And that rewarded you another slap on the opposite side of your ass.

You grit your teeth until your skin stopped stinging. “If you hit me again, I’m going to kill you!”

But hell, even you knew that was only going to get you another one. “You’re going to apologize.”

“For what?!”

“Everything—your attitude, talking about my father, and hanging out with Joni—”

“Oh, fuck you, Ransom! You’re a fucking psychopath with serious possession issues. I’m not a god damn object—”

His hand cracked across your ass, maybe a little more forceful than he intended but he hadn’t expected you to put up so much fight today.

Your mouth was clamped shut and more tears had gathered in your eyes. You weren’t sure what you were crying about anymore, sheer frustration or because he was hitting you so hard.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“No!” Was he out of his mind? He had never made you apologize like this. He let you suck him off or he just tied you up and you were “sweet” enough that he just forgave you. He had never tried to force you to say those words.

“Do it, now—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you decided.

“I will give you one more chance,” he informed. “Then I’m done talking.”

“That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.”

He smacked you again. And again, you were finally starting to realize that the leather hurt more than his bare hand. Again, and your legs buckled. He quickly scooped you up, setting you atop the table.

“Ransom,” you pleaded.

Instead of responding verbally, he spanked you again. You only took three more before you blurted out those dreaded words. He paused but you knew he wasn’t going to give you more opportunities to make it right, you would have to do that on your own.

“I’m sorry for my attitude.”

He hummed and you were stupid enough to think he was going to let the rest go. Not a blink of an eye later, he smacked you again.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your dad!”

Yet again, he struck you without a word.

“Ransom, please, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry—”

“Sorry…what?”

“What?” you breathed back. He didn’t say ‘for what’ because that much he knew; you’d said that much. Then what the fuck did he mean?

He tsked and you knew what was coming.

You flinched before he even touched you. “S-sir? I’m sorry, sir!” He’d tried to start that but it was awkward at best. Sir did nothing for either one of you. You were running out of logic though and seemed the best bet.

He snorted. “No, baby. Not ‘sir’.”

“Daddy!” you realized, nearly crying tears of joy. Of course, after that joke you made about Richard, Ransom just needed to assert his dominance. Then his temper tantrum would be over. “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

“Now I don’t think you’re being sincere; you’re just telling me what I want to hear—”

“No, daddy, I’m so sorry—”

But he hit you again.

And okay, fuck him—you had just been telling him what he wanted to hear. You were done. “Stop!”

“Or what?”

“Ransom, I swear—”

He wrapped his arm around you, grasping your neck so he could yank you up. His forearm was pressed hard between your breasts, his elbow digging into your side where he held you tight against his chest. “You made a mess of my gloves, clean them.”

Before you could argue, he shoved his hand into your mouth. You were refusing to obey, however, which he realized when your mouth was completely still. His solution was to force his fingers down your throat until you were gagging violently.

When you realized he wasn’t going to give, you started sucking. You could feel his sweater against your back. It shouldn’t have been able to calm you down, but fuck…this was Ransom. This sweater-wearing asshole was apparently the man you loved—how fucking stupid could you be?

He began dragging you to the sliding door. Ransom’s house was pretty secluded and the only other people that regularly showed up was the help. Three weeks prior, you had pointed out that there was no point in having a sliding glass door if you didn’t have a dog. That was your subtle hint that that was what you wanted.

He flat out refused and you guys had ended up screaming at each other until he held you against the glass and fucked you silent. He had enjoyed it, but you couldn’t relate.

Once more, he pressed you into the glass, lifting your arms over your head. You tried to recoil the second you felt the cold surface against your breasts but he just pushed you back harder. You began turning your head pointedly, his fingers were still in your mouth but you knew he would take the hint.

Finally, he pulled them free and began brushing your hair away from your face. “What do you need, baby?”

“You are such a fucking asshole, Ransom!”

“And you are disrespectful.”

“Why the hell should I respect you?”

“Keep it up, baby, we already have a long night ahead of us. You really wanna let this go on tomorrow, too?”

You couldn’t, you knew that with total certainty. Your body was worn out, the only thing that was keeping you going was the anger you felt. You dreaded imagining how sore your muscles would be when you woke up the next morning.

“Now,” he sighed, feigning patience, “Try not to make a mess of my gloves again, or I’ll make you clean them again.” He reached between your legs and began rubbing his fingers quickly over your clit.

“Ransom!” you cried, attempting to push your body back against his. You could not keep doing this. “Stop, please!”

“No.”

That was all he said, the last thing, in fact, even though you didn’t stop talking the whole time. The whole nine almost-finishes he gave you, that he would stop in the middle of because you kept “making a mess”.

He had to know when you were truly almost spent because that was when he tore his pants out of his way and without even a teasing remark, thrust into you. It took a mere two thrusts before you fell apart.

The glass was stained with streaks from your skin, sweat, tears, and probably other bodily fluids, and you hated that the housekeeper would know why. God, he was the fucking worst person on the planet.

He never gave you a moment, he just kept fucking you through your orgasm and then after because now he needed to finish. “Tell me you’re not going to leave me,” he ordered.

You were more than just confused, wondering briefly if you’d even heard him correctly. “What?”

He let both hands grasp your hips and he pushed into you harder. “Tell me that you’re never going to leave me.”

You turned your head back, attempting to be coherent through the whining and mewling. “What—the fuck—are you talking about?”

“Even if this shit all goes wrong,” he explained. “Even if I get caught. Right now, tell me that you’re not gonna fucking leave. Say you won’t leave me.”

“Of course, I’m never—going to leave, you fucking idiot.” You turned forward, eyes shutting because you didn’t want to be looking at him when you said this. “I love you.”

His hips stuttered and he froze buried inside you, but you weren’t going to acknowledge what you’d just said. He pulled out just to turn you to him, lifting you so he could properly fuck you against the door.

Your legs hung loose around him but your tied arms could successfully hold around his neck. And just like that, the fight was over. Neither of you would probably ever bring up a single thing said during this disastrous night. He just kissed the side of your face as he told you how good your pussy felt.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

What Was the Mountain, What Heralds the Calamity

Therapy had been tough in the months following the incident. Daily life had turned into a blur ever since.

Heidi stood in front of the mirror and only registered with delay what sound reached her ears. The hollow snap, a release of pressure around her waist, and the rattle of cheap imitation metal accompanying the flaccid flopping of a broken belt as it drooped from the loops on her pants.

Almost as if in a trance, it took her several moments to register that all the stress-eating and weight gain had caused her oldest and favorite belt to break. She held the buckle and studied how its prong had cleanly snapped in half because of material fatigue and the physical strain of her belly’s size increasing.

It was not like she really needed the belt anyway because her pants had gotten a bit too tight ever since she witnessed the murder-suicide at college. Heidi thought of Krissy for some reason.

Before long, she found herself in another haze: the distant droning radio hits looping the same one-hour track list of pop music in the background, while she explored the brightly lit maze of a cramped clothing store, shopping around for a new belt. She felt seen in an uncomfortable way and avoided eye contact with every single person that got even remotely near her.

Unless she needed to, she never went outside anymore.

Navigating the narrow aisles and beginning to feel nauseous from the cocktails of perfumed scents all tactically spread throughout the retail hellscape, she even tried to avoid physical closeness to any other of the shoppers.

This made it harder to get to wherever the hell the damned belts were in this store. Instead of locking eyes with other people, Heidi stared at a camera stuck overhead in a corner, observing how it slowly panned back and forth and a tiny red light on its blocky little body blinked rhythmically. Seeing her own tiny reflection in the camera lens made her feel uneasy, like she saw someone else in there.

Faceless mannequins wrapped in stylish garb loomed high above her everywhere, looking down on her like disapproving deities; divine idols of fashion that saw without eyes but judged her with cold and absolute cruelty.

The moment she heard familiar voices, she darted into an aisle she had no business in and kept her head down. With a sinking feeling, she wondered what she hated more: the bright and garish colors and neo-hippie designs of the articles that flanked her on both sides, or that she was so afraid of human contact that this was who she was now.

Alone and adrift in a sea of empty masks, engulfed in a suffocating fog of uncertainty and countless little fears.

“Do you think this’ll go better with my blue bolero jacket, or do the colors clash a bit too much? What do you think?” Krissy asked.

Heidi recognized her fellow college colleague’s voice through the white noise of store music, cash register beeps, and other voices softly blending. Somewhat sharp, regularly rising in tone as if to pose several questions before posing the actual question.

“I dunno, babe. You might wanna try the darker blue instead. You know, instead of such a radically different color?” Jacob asked back. Krissy’s boyfriend.

The aisles being what they were in this store, it was not like they offered ample opportunities to hide from prying eyes without ducking down in between them—the nature of such a temple of commerce lured everybody in to see its ample buffet of products, rendering its neon-colored reduced-price signs visible from every corner of the store.

Krissy clicked her tongue. Without even seeing her, Heidi could practically hear her shake her head for emphasis.

“Nah, because I’m really thinking of it going with my favorite jeans, and if it ends up all looking like different shades of blue, it kinda sucks,” Krissy said.

With little opportunity to hide without making herself look even more like a freak, Heidi kept her head down and did what she had been conditioning herself to do for months now: pretend like she did not exist and pray that nobody noticed.

Despite her best efforts, she gawked at Jacob’s face. His eyes stole a furtive glance at Heidi which made her stomach knot. Despite how clipped and short it was, and him focusing all his attention on Krissy, Heidi clearly glimpsed the flash of recognition in his eyes.

She wondered if he had stopped giving her adulterously flirtatious looks because of her bloated figure or because of the thousand-mile stare that haunted Heidi’s mien. The moment she sensed her thoughts drifting in that direction, she shook her head and chastised herself for thinking anything like that.

Heidi turned away and gained distance as quickly as she could without running, far away enough to not have to overhear those other two talking. She stifled a sigh of relief when she finally chanced upon a rack of belts in all sorts of shapes and sizes.

Taking less than a minute to scan the massive assortment, Heidi gazed upon one that really struck her fancy. Two big silver rings adorned the black leather belt and framed the buckle. It looked a bit pricey, but she was willing to pay extra if it was made of authentic metal and leather.

Disappointment followed when she realized it was a size too small.

In a seldom burst of defiance, she looked around. A store clerk was hovering nearby, busy sorting jackets by size on a ring-shaped stand.

Heidi dithered, owed to her mind going in circles and struggling to overcome the part of her that felt anxious in approaching and talking to a stranger. But the store employee was small and unassuming, which helped give Heidi that final push.

Instead of clearing her throat as she had envisioned to catch the girl’s attention, Heidi spoke up, “Uhm, excuse me?”

The shop assistant slowly turned and looked up at her. The nametag read “Jenn” and it only briefly distracted from vaguely disheveled hair and black rings of exhaustion under Jenn’s eyes.

“Hello,” Jenn said in a mousy little voice to match her appearance. “How can I help?”

Out of fear of breaking out in a cold sweat, Heidi embraced her newfound momentum and nodded. She held up the belt like a trophy and felt the blood rushing into her face as she spoke with much less vigor than she felt, “Do you have this in one size bigger?”

Jenn’s eyes went from belt to Heidi and back to the belt.

She said, “If there aren’t any out there, that's—”

The sentence died in Jenn’s mouth and she nodded. The faint semblance of a smile twitched around the corners of her lips, genuine and heartfelt.

“You know, I’ll check. We might have one,” she said. And with a sudden dash of melody to her voice, she added, “I’ll be right back!”

Jenn walked away with a bounce to her step.

Heidi hesitated, wondering if she should wait there or follow Jenn to wherever she was going. The thought that she could spare the girl the extra walk to get back to her drove Heidi to follow, several steps behind and struggling to keep pace. Jenn may have looked small and exhausted but hell, she was fast.

This brought them to a door bearing a label in big black letters emblazoned on its surface, reading:

EMPLOYEES ONLY

Keys jingled as Jenn pulled out a tangle of the little metal objects and unlocked the door. She stepped inside and paused, looking over her shoulder and noticing that Heidi had followed her. She gave her another smile, both feeble and warm.

“Please wait here, I’ll find it in no time. Or maybe not find it. Uhm, I hope I find it? Uh, you know what I mean,” she babbled at Heidi.

She radiated a disarming energy. It melted away the icy barrier of Heidi’s many fears. Seconds later, Heidi found it hard to believe that she had felt the pull of facial muscles she had not flexed in a while—she had returned a smile of her own at Jenn.

The girl disappeared into the eerie twilight of whatever storage lay beyond the threshold. Jenn had left the door ajar, giving Heidi ample time to absorb hints of the secret world behind it.

Contrasting the warm eggshell color of the floors in the store area, the concrete grounds of the back area looked coarse and slate-colored, radiating something cold and unforgiving. Racks of naked steel beams held up all sorts of things wrapped in layers of plastic or piles of cardboard boxes.

Although a cool light emanated from fluorescent tubes above the storage space, the ceilings in there were higher than in the store and it felt like some of them were off. One of the lights even occasionally flickered, lending the otherworld that Jenn had stepped into an almost eerie air that reminded Heidi of a cheesy horror movie.

Seconds flowed into minutes as she waited. She resisted the temptation to look around, felt a stronger need not to make any eye contact anymore. The warmth of smiles exchanged between her and Jenn already felt like it was a million miles away.

Just before any impatience could bubble up to the surface, a loud sound crashed in the storage space. Something big and heavy must have fallen, with a loud sloshing on the hells of the impact.

Heidi’s heart raced. Thundered. She wanted to check. Worried that something had happened to Jenn.

But that icy barrier of fears had fully frozen back into a solid shell, causing her heartbeat to shoot through the roof. Paralyzed, she dreaded the idea of looking like an idiot by calling out for Jenn, only to find out that everything was fine. Or to trespass beyond that ominous threshold of the ajar door and get into any trouble.

The door said it was for employees only, after all.

Then she remembered how she once walked towards danger. Towards the sound of gunshots. Towards whimpering. Towards that horrid scene that had wrought all the therapy of recent months.

Instead of impatience, cold dread bubbled to the surface. She did not want to remember the words of the phone call that followed the murder-suicide she had witnessed.

And then, something else bubbled up. Fiery, and searing. It sliced through the icy shell with something she had forgotten.

Something that felt like hope.

All she had done was witness. But now, perhaps, she could make a difference.

The cold sweat erupted from her pores, after several of her steps taking her through that door, pushing through, looking around for Jenn.

Two forces clashed in the thunder of her beating heart. The fire of courage and the ice of her dread. The need to do the right thing, and the fear of consequences.

Something like claustrophobia began to bear down on her as she paced through the narrow corridors of the storage shelves. While the ceilings were high, so were the racks and piles of boxes all around. Heidi had left one maze and entered another.

“Jenn?” she said. Timid, at first. Assertive on repeat, as she called out again, “Jenn?”

Something metal scraped against the concrete floors, grinding. It also sounded wet.

The moment she turned around, the shadows around her grew. The darkness engulfed her, and a tower fell. A mountain fell upon her. It was too fast for her to react, too sudden to realize what even was happening. Just enough time to know that one of those long metal shelves bent and toppled and fell, and piles of boxes came crashing down upon her.

She instinctively flailed about with her arms to fight herself free from being buried alive under a mountain of boxes, but as her eyes fluttered, nothing was the same anymore. Nothing was as it should be.

Distant and incredible, but all real. All too real. Terribly real.

A stinging smell of salt hung heavy in the air. The taste of rust clung to her tongue in a bitter film. The gray floors had made way to a different color of gray, blending into mist all around, shrouding the dark silhouette of a mountain in the distance.

Heidi’s hands were different. Thinner, not pudgy anymore.

Her body, everything. Like she had lost all the excess weight, and then some. And dressed differently. Dried blood stained her leg, and she had a bright orange life jacket hugging her upper body.

Heidi was no longer Heidi. She was now Krissy.

The world swayed and ocean waves lapped at the edges of an inflatable rubber raft. Jacob slumped where he sat, his head hanging down so far that his hair concealed his face, and his head bobbed up and down as he sat across from her in the raft. Like he was unconscious. Or sleeping.

But Heidi—no, Krissy—knew he was not sleeping.

He was also not Jacob anymore, even if he looked like him.

Even if he now raised his head, looking up until their eyes met, and dread welled up inside of her, making her stomach knot and cutting off air as she held her breath.

He stared. His eyes carried a cutting cold that rivaled the sea’s air. Something other than Jacob peered through them, piercing the darkness between the stars, and wriggling its way forth, like a worm burrowing through the void, trying to emerge into the light, to break through the glint of Krissy’s own horrified visage reflected in those orbs of lifeless jelly.

Like someone watching through a screen, displaying a camera feed.

Krissy hoped Jenn was okay and wanted to wake up. To become Heidi again.

But this was no dream.

And that was not Jacob.

“Who are you?” she croaked. The question landed on wings of a dehydrated rasp.

Jacob’s limbs twitched as the entity tried to move, but they were all long twisted in ways that had caused bones to break and muscles to snap, leaving him stranded in the boat and immobilized. His body shuddered and wiggled for a moment, suggesting that he might have lurched forward. Or lunged at her.

“I am Sorrowglade, a Sheen of the Interlocking Oil Walls. You look thirsty. You should drink,” came the words from Jacob’s chapped lips.

Sorrowglade nodded Jacob’s head towards a bottle of water within Krissy’s reach.

It rolled back and forth, courtesy of the ocean rocking their raft. The water in the bottle sloshed around, out of tact, and a violet tint permeated it. For whatever reason, she knew poison had tainted the liquid.

Tears welled up in Krissy’s eyes. She had no hopes of finding Jacob. Either he was long dead or Sorrowglade had absorbed him. The worries about a belt in a clothing store or any anxieties welling up now lay far behind her, even though they had troubled her mind mere moments ago.

Her head weighed a ton and she felt sick. That metallic taste reached far down her throat and a pain in her jaw flared up. The plane’s crash into the ocean had miraculously done almost nothing to her.

“We are the shining light that gleams from the cracks between the walls,” said Sorrowglade, still borrowing Jacob’s vocal cords. His eyes still dead, but awake, and wary.

Studying her features with curiosity. Like a fascinated child.

The lifeboat drifted closer towards the mountain. Panic budded in Krissy’s body, starting as a tingling in her digits and spreading everywhere else until it erupted into a nauseating dizziness, making the world spin around her.

“We are here to guard you from the jovial pudding of the laughing coin kings,” continued Sorrowglade. “From the false promises of freedom. From the lies that the stone walkers cloaked in hairless shadow utter.”

Krissy’s stomach churned. She fought against the urge to throw up while her hands pawed at the paddle nearby, gripping it tightly as she stared at Sorrowglade, expecting Jacob’s broken body to suddenly defy its injuries and jump at her like a hungry beast.

But Sorrowglade only stared at her from the helpless body of her boyfriend.

“They will devour if you let them near,” he said. No—they—they said. Speaking in one voice, but many who spoke at once, “We, on the other hand, we offer salvation.”

Krissy could barely see through the unsteady blur of tears as she pried her gaze from Jacob’s body, and she paddled with all her might. Tried to gain distance from that growing, looming shadow of a mountain. A distance that shrank far too quickly.

“We are golden light that shines upon true ways.”

Krissy forced herself not to sob when she realized the raft spun around. She doubled her efforts to alternate sides as she paddled, harder, with crushing despair taking root in every fiber of her body already wracked with panic.

“We have traveled from far to find you, and we are the conclusion that all your roads lead to.”

Silently, inwardly, Krissy pleaded for something to happen, to rip her out of this and bring her back to where she was. To be Heidi again, to find Jenn in the store, and go home with a new belt. But she was Krissy now, and her world had gone to hell.

“When you close your eyes, you taste us. When you taste the grit of dirt crunching between your teeth, you hear our arrival.”

Krissy paddled, and paddled, and paddled. Looking over her shoulder only turned her dizziness into something worse. The mountain grew larger by the second. Looming behind Jacob like a sinister and shadowy patron. Like the ocean waters carried the raft there no matter how hard she tried.

The metallic taste made way to something far more bitter and caustic and before she knew it, she retched and heaved as she vomited off the side of the boat. Chunks of lunch had gotten stuck in her hair and her mouth burned.

“Lay down your ten thousand nightmares. Abandon all the pain and the guilt,” Sorrowglade said in the same dull monotone, a mockery of Jacob’s pleasant voice as it delivered all these strange words.

Everything he said kept riding on the tone of an invitation. But all she could hear were secret threats.

At least the dizziness waned a little bit. And although her arms wobbled, she found new strength and paddled with all her might.

Doom emanated from that mountain. Slithering in between the scent of sea salt, something putrid and rotten reached her nostrils, almost made Krissy hurl again.

“Why embrace this suffering any longer? Why do some of you resist so?”

Krissy did her best to ignore Sorrowglade, but it was impossible not to listen. His voice kept cutting through the sloshing of ocean waves, infiltrating her ears and mind and thoughts, like tendrils snaking their way forth, smooth, and slow and steady and certain—

“I can make him whole again. I can end his suffering and restore your happiness.”

A gasp almost escaped her lips, but she fought back against it, even harder than she paddled. A part of her wanted to take Sorrowglade up on their offer, but she remembered the words from that call Heidi had taken from the dying man.

Not in a monotone, but a growl, she replied. She repeated those words from the mysterious call as she watched the life fade from the eyes of the man who had committed the murder-suicide at her college, “When the ascetic glimpses gold outside the gloom, he is blinded and strays from his path.”

Something grabbed at the paddle and because she had turned around halfway to face Not-Jacob and address this Sorrowglade, she never saw what yanked that paddle away from her, dragging it underwater and letting the darkness beneath the ocean surface swallow it whole.

Having reached the peaks of her panic, it made no difference anymore.

“These are not my final moments,” she finished. And despite her voice trembling, every syllable emerged with force, riding on waves of defiance.

Sorrowglade continued to stare at her through Jacob’s deadened eyes. They waited for more, but Krissy had said her part. Gave as little as possible, because she sensed how they did not understand one another, even if they spoke the same language and could comprehend the individual words.

“We may be delayed today,” said Sorrowglade. With no anger nor emotion. “The awakening comes eventually, like your sun always rises and always sets.”

The silhouette of the mountain moved. Not because of the boat’s steady rocking amidst the ocean waves, or Krissy’s sight being affected by that motion.

“A celestial body that you see in ways it is not, believe it behaves in ways that it does not.”

No. The mountain moved. Its shape changed as limbs parted from it. Monolithic and towering, one such limb reached out towards them, creeping closer and closer. A low baritone rumbling accompanied its arrival, like a nearing earthquake, heralding how the ocean waves turned more violent, now splashing higher and higher against the malleable sides of the raft.

Something oily and dark and glistening pierced the veil of mists and closed in quickly on Krissy.

As she screamed and clamped her eyes shut, the searing pain flared up in her every limb. Everything hurt.

A string of profanities, panting gasps, the sound of panic weighing heavily on Jenn’s voice as she apologized profusely, both to Heidi and to an imaginary mountain of oppression that haunted her every working moment.

Jenn helped remove the many heavy boxes under which Heidi had been buried alive, and Heidi groaned in pain.

Nothing serious. Nothing had harmed her. The pile of boxes had miraculously did nothing tangible to hurt her.

Krissy was not Krissy any longer, but Heidi again. Heidi hoisted herself up onto her side and her skin tingled as she felt Jenn’s wispy hands gently touching her while she tried to help her up onto her feet.

Trembling from the shock, Heidi’s knees buckled for a moment, but Jenn helped her stand up straight. They stumbled their way out of the sea of boxes and bags that now littered the narrow corridor of the storage space.

The mountain had almost gotten Krissy. Luckily, she was now Heidi.

“Oh my gosh,” Jenn whispered. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

Heidi shook her head and took Jenn’s hands, grasping them firmly and giving them a shake for emphasis, not letting go.

“No, look, don’t worry about it. S'all good. I, uh, I shouldn’t have been here—uh, back here—to begin with. I was just gonna. I was just, uh—there was a sound, and I was just, I wanted to check on you,” Heidi finally said, struggling to find the right words and omit the deluge of wrong ones and not sound like she had lost her mind.

Trying not to talk about her time as Krissy, after a plane crash, talking to the Sorrowglade that had possessed her half-dead boyfriend’s body.

Because none of that made sense. She had turned into another person and back again.

And almost as if to confirm the sheer insanity of it all, the moment the two women emerged from the storage room into the warmer light of the clothing store, Heidi saw Krissy and Jacob standing in the aisles of the shop. Although well out of earshot to hear whatever they were talking about, Krissy’s animated movements suggested she was berating Jacob for some fashion faux pas he had just committed in commenting on her most recent choice in attire to try on.

Jenn’s continued apologies barely pierced the haze of Heidi’s mind, still drifting back to that gloomy ocean, that mist, and that mountain. Its oily, tentacle-shaped something that reached out—that almost reached her.

Almost touched her.

Its agent, Sorrowglade, having almost convinced her.

Almost.

Yet more harrowing things she could not speak of in therapy. For all of this was real.

All of this suggested the invasion of that cold thing, hailing from the darkness between the stars, from far away. From distant worlds, from devoured husks, reaching out and trying to find more connections here, in our world.

Heidi smiled at Jenn and assured her everything was fine. What a beautiful lie.

“Did you find the belt? In my size?” she interrupted the clerk.

Jenn’s eyes went wide, and she burst out laughing.

All the anxiety blown away; it was almost like old Heidi was back. The one from before the incident.

Almost.

In truth, she only wore a mask.

Deep down, she felt sick to her stomach. Wondered what she could do to prevent the coming calamity. Wondered if she could even do anything.

Nobody would believe her if she told them.

She struggled to believe it herself.

—Submitted by Wratts

[femalechibiblogger]

My 15 Favorite Isekai Manga

1. That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime

Satoru Mikami is an ordinary 37 year old corporate worker living in Tokyo. He is almost content with his monotonous life, despite the fact that he doesn't have a girlfriend. During a casual encounter with his colleague, an assailant pops out of nowhere and stabs him. While succumbing to his injuries, a mysterious voice echoes in his mind and recites a series of commands which he could not make sense of.

After regaining consciousness, Satoru discovers that he has been reincarnated as a Slime in an unfamiliar world. At the same time, he also acquires new-found skills, particularly the ability called "Predator," which allows him to devour anything and mimic its appearance and skills. He stumbles upon Veldora, a Catastrophe-level 'Storm Dragon', who was sealed for 300 years for reducing a town to ashes. Feeling sorry for him, Satoru befriends the dragon, promising to help him in destroying the seal. In return, Veldora bestows upon him the name Rimuru Tempest, to grant him divine protection.

Now free from his stale past life, Rimuru embarks on a quest to prove his worth. As he starts to get used to his current physique, word of his weird accomplishments start to spread like wildfire across the world, changing his fate completely.

2. The Scholar’s Reincarnation 

A martial artist, claiming himself to be a “murderer” is defeated by a suicide attack in battle and is reborn as a first born child to a local lord. Having a fresh start, a warm family and a little sister to protect – he decides to become a better person in his new life.

3. Tensei Kizoku no Isekai Boukenroku ~Jichou wo Shiranai Kamigami no Shito~

Shiina Kazuya, our protagonist who got killed by a stranger when he tried to protect his childhood friend and little sister, reincarnated into Cain Von Silford as the third son in the world of sword and magic. Cain grew up being surrounded by Gods who doesn’t know self-esteem, the upper noble and the girls who are swayed around him. Being given so many protection from the gods, He overcame any obstacle (aka Flags) while hiding his unbelievable status. The noble path fantasy story of a young boy who sometimes wicked and clumsy.

4. They Say I Was Born A King’s Daughter

After spending most of her youth fielding the attention of countless wealthy suitors, Suhee Kim finally finds true love with a steady boyfriend named Jinsu Han. But then tragedy strikes, and Suhee is murdered in cold blood. To Suhee’s surprise, she is immediately reincarnated as a baby girl named Sanghee Kim, who just so happens to be a princess! Plus, she is fully conscious of her past life. 

There’s just one problem: In this society, women are seen as totally inferior, even princesses. Appalled by the treatment of women, Sanghee is determined to change the kingdom’s patriarchal ways. Will Sanghee be able to succeed, or will she be stuck living her second life being treated as a lowly woman?

5. Parallel World Pharmacy

A young pharmacologist and researcher in Japan died from overworking, and was reincarnated in a Medieval Parallel Europe. He was reincarnated as a 10-year-old apprentice to a famous Royal Court pharmacist, had attained an inhuman skills of ability to see through disease, material creation, and material destruction. In a society in which dubious medical practice are rampant, price gouging thru the monopoly of the pharmacist guild, and good medicine aren't available to the commoners. He was recognized by the Emperor at that time and opened a Pharmacy at the corner of the town. He will wipe out the fraud that has swept the world, and deliver to the commoners a truly effective medicine that was developed using present day pharmacology. Thus the boy pharmacist will cheat by using his previous knowledge to create innovative medicines while helping the people of the parallel world, a story about living his new life to the fullest this time.

6. I Am A Child Of This House

“Pink Eyes” has always lived a relatively normal (?) life, with two exceptions: first, she has gained memories of her previous life as Seo Young, and second, she is someone’s illegitimate daughter in I Am a Child of This House Manga.

One day however, when she turns 11 years old, her prostitute mother takes her to the empire’s sole duke and claims her as his child. Although he seems to not believe her, he nevertheless buys “Pink Eyes” for 20,000 gold. With that, her new life as “Estelle” starts.

But what truly awaits her? And is she really a child of this house?

7. Daughter of the Emperor

Ariadna Lereg Ilestri Pre Agrigent. And so my life begins with this ridiculously long name, born to royalty and the center of attention — all because of one dangerous man; the veritably insane tyrant king, ruthless conqueror of ten empires, nightmare of all continents… and my father?! Will I be able to survive this maniac?

8. The Cute Little Granny Hinata-chan

Worldly knowledge and artistic refinement! Hinata-chan is on a completely different level to your average toddler. But she has a secret... that she's the reincarnation of an 88 year old grandma, with her memories intact! Enjoying green tea on the veranda, a taste for pickles, and an old-fashioned dialect! Why has she been reincarnated? A comedy full of old-wives wisdom.

9. Isekai de Mofumofu Nadenade Suru Tame ni Ganbattemasu

After various things happened, I got an ability from God and reincarnated to another world! While being watched over by my high-spec family, the super ordinary me fully enjoyed other world life. Using the ability I received from God, I had a daily life of just fluffing and petting fantasy animals. There are some shady movements too, but while being led by the nose by God, I’ll do my best at various things with my cheat-like comrades!

10. In Another World, I’m Called: The Black Healer

One day, 22-year-old Kanzaki Misuzu is suddenly transported to a strange world. Based on the pop-up screens she can access, it seems she's entered some kind of RPG as a magic user! Luckily, she can use the gaming skills she acquired as an otaku to make her way in this new world. But before she knows it, people start calling her "the Black Healer"!!

11. The Youngest Princess

The archmage who ruled over a magic kingdom. One day, she was reborn as the youngest daughter of the empire! “I’ll just play along and pretend to be a baby. ...But don’t you think you guys like me a little too much?” They won’t leave her alone. The youngest princess is tired today as well.

12. Freeter ga Jimini Isekai Teni suru 

Meet Tanaka. He’s a 26-year-old freeter - a guy who makes his living on various part-time jobs. He works in warehouses, directs traffic, and generally does whatever work he can find in order to get paid. However, recently Tanaka has had a problem. He occasionally is transported into another world, usually in front of people who need help. Knowing nothing, can Tanaka add another part-time job to his repertoire?

13. The Small Sage Will Try Her Best In The Different World From Lv.1!

Kujo Yuuri, who had been playing Elysia Online, finally changed her occupation to the sage of her desire. Then, she was asked whether to go to the true Elyasia or not and selected [Yes], and somehow went to another world. Furthermore, she became a small child.

The small sage Yuuri and her companions’ love and adventure fantasy.

14. Beauty and the Beasts

As soon as she fell into the world of beast men, a leopard forcibly took her back to his home. Indeed, Bai Jingjing is at a complete and utter loss. The males in this world are all handsome beyond compare, while the women are all so horrid that even the gods shudder at their sight. As a first-rate girl from the modern world (she's even a quarter Russian), Bai Jingjing finds herself sitting at the center of a harem filled with beautiful men -- at the very peak of existence.

15. The Beast and His Pet High School Girl

On the way home from school, Kashiwagi Aki is kidnapped and finds herself in a world populated entirely by beastmen. She ends up in a pet store where the overzealous and impulsive wolfman Zinovy becomes infatuated with her and buys her on sight. Thus begins their strange and chaotic, albeit incredibly cute life.