#ransom drysdale x you

[georgiapeach30513]

I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary:  Ransom always gets what he wants.  Even if he has to wait.

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror.  Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate.  You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view.  Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion.  And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.  

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes.  He was so predictable.  Expected perfection from you.  Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes.  There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what.  Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.  

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick.  She was more of a friend than a mother.  She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive.  It was like the two of you had grown up together.  And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything.  He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’.  You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up.  They didn’t need help in the kitchen.  Everything was already outside.  But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to.  And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face.  He was told that you were home from Harvard.  He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack.  From the kitchen.  Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen.  He must have been quieter than he had thought.  You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward.  Right at the table.  A soft little whimper is music to his ears.  He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly.  Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him.  You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table.  Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen.  “Wait.  I’m not finished talking to you.  If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated?  Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt.  Come on, I wanna see.  Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick.  “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom.  I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees?  What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames.  He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t.  You mustn’t.  “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago.  You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked.  I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated.  You followed his instructions perfectly.  Listened to every word.  “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing.  What is that you want?  You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes!  Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk.  Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.  

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no.  Show me what you were doing just a minute ago.  But hold your skirt up.  I wanna watch.  Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table.  Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany.  Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go.  I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm?  You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah.  Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward.  Getting so close that you're panting out his name.  Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut.  Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is.  Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him.  Circling your tongue around his thick digits.  Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad.  I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs.  Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are.  Nothing left to do but follow him outside.  

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn.  He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you.  He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious.  It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself.  Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm.  It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside.  Needing to get something to drink.  Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower.  Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you.  And the worst part was he knew!  He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy!  I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew.  You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no.  Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you.  Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear.  Sniffing up the side of your neck.  His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game?  What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess.  It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth.  Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside.  He wasn’t serious.  The window was right there.  Your dad was right there.  With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.  

“You want my cock?  Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you.  Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.  

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck.  My.  Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there.  You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth.  You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs.  Rolling your eyes up to look at him.  His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you.  You let him take control.  Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you.  His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells.  You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter.  His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No.  I think she had an upset stomach.  Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts.  Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you.  He glances back down to you.  Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging?  You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter.  Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal.  You are dripping wet.  Needy and ready to come.  Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck.  “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she?  You gonna be my little slut?  You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air.  Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up.  His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it.  Call me daddy.  Tell me how bad you want my cock.  Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot.  I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face.  Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth.  Stabbing into you so fast.  So deep he was making your throat bulge out.  And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you.  Almost there.  Gotta hurry.  Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut.  Taking this big fat cock like a good girl.  Uh!  Uh!  Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat.  You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom.  Your hips fuck down on him harder.  Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom!  That’s not fair!  I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs.  Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside.  Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile.  “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.  

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly.  Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him.  “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere.  She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before.  Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right.  Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left.  There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly.  “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk.  He caught him spitting into your cunt.  He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks.  His eyes darkening as he walks closer.  Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot.  You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p.  He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you.  Your daughter is clumsy.  She tends to make a mess, too.  Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information.  Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom.  Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o.  Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out.  Flinging his head towards the door.  Wanting Ransom to follow.  He had no such plans.  He was going to fuck you during these fireworks.  “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché.  Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh?  Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep.  Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess?  I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks.  Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him.  “There ya go.  You gonna show daddy what you learned in school?  I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work.  You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you.  Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming.  You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you.  Sit on my lap.  Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom.  Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.  

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip.  None of the boys from school felt like him.  None of them looked like him.  And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep.  Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess.  Daddy has such a big cock.  You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore.  I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip.  Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom.  Finally have him inside of you.  Something you have dreamed about for years.  “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah.  But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does.  You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy?  You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom.  Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him.  Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him.  “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom.  His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble.  “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess.  Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy.  It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me.  My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess.  Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM!  POP!  “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder.  They can’t hear you.  Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy!  I wanna come!  Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach.  One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit.  “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes!  Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah.  I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend.  He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea.  Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying.  Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit.  His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers.  Everything felt good.  Every part of you feels so fucking good.  Your skin is buzzing with euphoria.  “Go on, Princess.  Come.  Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling.  “Daddy!  Daddy I’m coming!  I’m coming!”  

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip.  Squeezing me so fucking hard.  There, baby.  Keep riding daddy, yeah!  Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core.  Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him.  “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did.  Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes.  “That was incredible.  How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy.  Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up.  You’re married.  Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter!  She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you.  You had him.  He was still in you.  He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her.  You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back.  “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs.  Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.  

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp.  “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control.  Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college.  Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins.  They get attached too easily.  Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it.  Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes.  “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her.  Mmm, my cock is getting hard again.  If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now.  Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress.  It’s too soon to share her.  You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches.  He would fuck you too.  He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you.  Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh.  ‘Good girl’ written on the other.  “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy.  That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile.  “It’s all daddy’s.  Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door.  And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself.  My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you.  His personal little sex toy.  One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with.  And showing off.  His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted.  And he would.  “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you.  “Okay, get some sleep, Princess.  You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right.  Shh.”

“I know.  Sleep.  Dream.  And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @maroonsunrise83​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​ @harrysthiccthighss​

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - poor little sleeping beauty (you) has a tough day, from finding out who she really is, and falling into a deep slumber. is the prince able to awaken her?

warning - smut, somnophilia, dubcon (all my characters consent), choking, spitting kink, swearing, creampie, breeding kink, wife kink, kidnapping, cursed.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You were shocked to learn the truth, finding out you were a princess and that your real name wasn’t Briar Rose, you were told your parents had named you Y/n and that they had to send you off with the fairies because a woman named Maleficent cursed you. You had to take a few moments to collect yourself, learning that they were to take you back on your eighteenth birthday, which meant you were due to leave your home any moment now to go back to where your family supposedly lived. 

As the four of you began to head off, your mind was full, thinking about your family, the curse, and the man you had met earlier that day. Oh, he was so handsome. You were saddened to hear the news that you were to be betrothed the moment you got to the castle. You didn’t want to be married off to a man you did not know. It didn’t sit right with you. Maybe if you spoke to your parents, they would understand and let you be with the man in the woods. 

After the long walk, you had finally arrived at the palace, staring up at it with wide eyes, gobsmacked at the sheer size of it. The guards moved out of the way as you walked closer to the entrance, letting you in. Your blue dress that the fairies made as a birthday present clung to your body with each step. Small hands touched your arm, causing you to look down at Fauna. “We will have to leave you for a bit, my dear. We have some business to attend to before you are able to meet your parents.” 

You give a soft smile. “That is alright, Fauna. I’ll be okay.” You assure them, watching as they leave. You begin to look around, admiring the artwork that litters the walls. Suddenly, a wisp of light appears in front of you. Your mind starts to go fuzzy as it pulls you into a trance, and your legs begin to follow as the light moves away from you, leading you toward a secret panel that opens when you are near. You walk up the winding staircase and into the hidden room.

Maleficent’s voice fills the room, coaxing you. “Touch the spindle! Touch it, I say!” Her command fills your ears, taking over your mind, and you have no choice but to obey. Your mind had taken over your legs, causing you to walk over to it. Your hand lifts, finger pointed, before a soft gasp escapes you when the spindle pricks your finger, causing it to bleed. You fall, eyes slipping closed into a deep slumber, not knowing of the dangers that lie ahead. Maleficent cackles as she appears over your unconscious body. “Oh, what a dumb girl.” She smirks as she spies into your mind and sees you dreaming of a man. “Hmm, if you want that man so badly, I guess I could give him to you.”

It was too late when the fairies realised what had happened. They looked at each other with wide eyes. They quickly become their former selves, allowing their wings and magic to take over and lead them to where you are. They would never have expected to be met with you, knocked out into a deep slumber with the one who cursed you standing above you in the same room. Their hearts race as Maleficent looks at the three with a deadly smirk, knowing they wouldn’t be strong enough to stop her. 

“The three fairies! Flora, Fauna and…” Maleficent cocks her head to the side, “Merryweather, I’m guessing?” She waves her hand, scoffing. “Oh, well. I don’t care. I assume you came to get your girl? It is a shame. She would’ve done some good for the world.” She reaches down, running her fingers through your hair. “But, I’m willing to show the princess that the world isn’t so good and colourful. Goodbye.” With a wave of Maleficent’s hand, you and she disappear, causing the fairies to set off in a panic, frightened to tell your father, the king, the news. 

Maleficent lays you on a soft bed, watching you as you sleep. “M–Maleficent, my queen. T–the prince, we found him…” She turns, raising a brow, waiting for her henchman to spit it out. “It seems he is waiting for the princess at the cabin, h–he seems impatient.”

“Hmm, that sounds perfect. Bring him to me!” She waves her hand before looking down at you. “You’re going to have so much fun, little one, and instead of true love’s kiss.” She scrunches her nose as those words leave her lips, not believing in such a thing. “Let’s make it something more… Extreme.” A dark grin appears on her face, knowing what the prince would do once he saw you. Her crow told her how the two of you got along in the woods and how the man couldn’t stop staring at your soft breasts and plump arse. 

Ransom struggled against the henchmen, growling and swearing as they dragged him along. “Get your filthy paws off me! I’ll kill you for touching me! Don’t you know who I am!” The henchmen just shrug and huff, not caring. One of them grabs a cloth and stuffs it into the young prince’s mouth, wanting some quiet. They finally make it up to the room you are held in, throwing Ransom inside. 

“Ah, finally.” Maleficent walks over, tilting his head up with her finger underneath his chin. “Hmm, you are quite handsome.” Her eyes drag across his face, getting what you see in him. Ransom’s brows furrow, unable to speak with the cloth in his mouth, his eyes fall upon your sleeping form, and he begins to wonder what the hell is happening. “But, you are not for me… Princess Y/n continues to think of you, and as you can see, she is currently in a deep slumber.” Maleficent leans closer to his ear, whispering. “Why don’t you find a way to wake her up.” She cackles as she straightens and waves her hand, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

His binds and cloth disappearing along with her, Ransom grumbles, shaking his head. “Fucking witches.” He stands, brushing off his clothes, and his head lifts as he peers at you, eyes drifting down your body. “Huh, so you’re the princess I’m meant to marry.” He walks close, tapping the blanket with the tip of his fingers. “I was ready to fuck you as a mere peasant girl, but knowing that you are much more, it’s so much better.”

It’s as though your body knows he is near. Your nipples harden and slick gathers between your thighs, your dreams turning sexual and dirty. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft whimper as you dream of the handsome man in the woods, bending you over the log and thrusting into your tight cunt. 

Ransom smirks as he watches you squirm. His cock hardens when he hears soft whimpers escape you. “Fuck, sweetheart. You sound so good, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He strips from his clothes, sighing as his cock springs free from his slacks, no longer feeling tight and suffocated. Ransom pulls the blanket away from your body, his cock twitching when his gaze lands on your dress, wondering if it could get any tighter. He slowly gets onto the bed and crawls on top of you, lifting your dress higher as he moves up your body. “So beautiful, and all mine.” He pampers you with kisses, kissing up your body until he reaches your face. 

Ransom groans when his leaking member connects with your bare cunt, and he grips his thick base, rubbing his swollen tip through your sopping folds. “Jesus, you’re so wet, sweetheart. What or who is making you so wet?” He raises his brow in jealousy, wondering who you could be dreaming of when he is here for you. “You know what? If you’re going to be a little slut in your dreams. Then I’m going to treat you like one.” Ransom growls, sick of competing with someone else when you should only be focused on him. He aligns his mushroom tip with your tight hole before thrusting in. His eyes close as he grunts, never having felt someone like you before. 

Sweet moans pass your lips, dreaming of the handsome man in the woods gently lying you onto a blanket on the ground, pressing his hips into yours as he buries himself deeply into you, making love to you, marking your skin with his hands and lips. Your back arches in your dreams, arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back. 

Ransom moans, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, sweetheart, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. You’re sweet walls are fluttering around me like crazy.” He buries his face into your neck, peppering kisses along your skin and thrusting harder and faster into your sweet honey pot. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Getting lost in how good you feel around his member, he hastily grabs a pillow and shoves it under your hips before gripping them, giving him leverage. “When you wake, I’ll continue to fuck you. I’ll fuck you every day, even after you become my wife. I’ll pump you full every single day and night. You won’t think of looking at another man when you have me.”

He nuzzles closer to you, pounding harder as he kisses your cheek, moving closer to your lips, his eyes slipping closed, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. “You’re mine, my sweet Y/n. All mine.” The moment his lips connect with yours, magic explodes around the two of you. Your eyes fly open, arms wrapping around him and your back arches. Ransom smirks, tilting his head back as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Ah, my sweet little sleeping beauty is finally awake. Do you feel that, sweetheart? Do you feel me inside you? Fucking into you, claiming you?” He fucks into you deeper, hitting against the hidden spot inside you. Ransom cups your cheek, glaring down at you with lust-filled eyes. His thumb lands on your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. “You’re mine, understood?” 

You whimper, feeling yourself throb around his cock, never having experienced pleasure like this before. Your mind is cloudy, being pulled from your dream to see it come true with the man you’ve fallen for. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his soft flesh. “O–oh, it feels so good, my prince!” You scream, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to pound into that spot, allowing Ransom to spit directly into your mouth, smirking as you immediately swallow. 

Ransom moves his hand between you, rubbing and rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. Enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his thick cock, he continues to pound into you, the hand that cups your cheek, moves to your throat and squeezes. “You’re going to cum for me, sleeping beauty, and then. I will pump you so full of my cum that it leaks out of you for months.” Your sweet moans fill the room, walls tighten around Ransom, your back arches, and you cum, your juices squirt out of you, covering everything. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

He captures your lips with his, thrusting harder and deeper until his cock twitches and his eyes slip closed. Ransom groans when his end approaches, burying himself deep inside you and emptying thick spurts of cum, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. He begins kissing down, resting on your neck, leaving soft kisses in his path. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Ransom lifts his head and stares deeply into your eyes, his softening cock still deep inside you, blocking his cum from leaking out. “You’re now mine forever.”

You hum, feeling your eyes begin to droop again. You would later learn not to fall in love with the first handsome man you laid your eyes upon. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | mutual masturbation

pairing | best friend!ransom drysdale x reader

warnings | very innocent!reader, bordering on little!reader. soft!ran <333 specifically soft for reader. ddlg undertones tbh (no use of the word daddy but ran is daddy af and also tells reader to "be a big girl" multiple times.) reader is having orgasm troubles/anxiety. mutual masturbation (clit rubbing, jerking off through pants.) subtle humiliation vibes (not verbalized.) praise and encouragement. delayed orgasm. he steps in and helps/finishes her off. he also comes in his pants lol. they come together! :D

word count | 886

it all starts when he overhears you on the phone with your friend, admitting you’ve never been able to make yourself come 😭

it somehow leads to him laying you out on your bed, tugging playfully at your jean shorts. “c’mon, baby. i promise, i wont make it weird. i just wanna help you”

and he’s your beeeest friend, your very best friend in the whole wide world, and you know he’s got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to this sort of thing, so you try to swallow down your humiliation and go along with it

he kneels attentively in front of you as you rest back against your pillows, shyly pulling off your bottoms. he chuckles sympathetically at your cute little pastel panties with your favorite cartoon characters on them. if it were any other girl, he'd probably make fun of them, but you've always been a sweet innocent baby in his eyes so he can't help but find it endearing 💕💕

"c'mon, cutie. don't be shy, it's just me" you try to remember that he's right; it's just your ran, your safe, wonderful ran, who you've known your whole life

you squeeze your knees together as you pull off your panties. ransom's surprisingly patient with you, "let me see, silly. can you show me how you've been doing it? i can't help unless i know what the problem is"

it takes a bit more coaxing before your knees finally fall to either side of you, revealing your perfect little petals which instantly have ran giving you the biggest heart eyes 🥺💖 "oh baby, you're so pretty down there. aww, are you a little wet, sweetheart? it's okay, don't be embarrassed" as you're squirming softly in front of him

your hands are so clumsy as you try to figure out where to even begin. he's right: you're wet (though you swear this isn't turning you on!!!) your fingers fumble around as you lamely begin poking and prodding at your leaky hole

ran raises an eyebrow at you, not sure whether or not you're playing dumb or just really this clueless. "that's it?" he asks in disbelief, clearly not impressed. you sigh, trying not to hide your face in your hands from embarrassment. "what about your clit?" noticing how you immediately grow more squirmy at his question, he calls your bluff- "come on, y/n. be a big girl and show me" 🥲🥲

you finally bring one hand up to begin rubbing carefully over your little button. you fail to hold in a soft gasp at the sudden rush of pleasure, earning a smile from the man sitting in front of you. "there you go. keep going, princess," he encourages you

as the warm, fuzzy feelings grow, you find the courage to spread yourself out a little with your other hand, giving you better access to your swelling bundle of nerves. ran's grin grows as he watches it growing and pulsating beneath your rubs

"shit, sweetheart. so fucking cute when you play with yourself like that," he curses softly, bringing one of his own hands down to begin palming himself through his pants. seeing him getting worked up by you only turns you on more. you don't even notice when your juices begin leaking down onto your bedsheets 🥲

you become more vocal, holding back fewer of your sweet little moans and whimpers. the noises you're making are clearly driving ran crazy, his pace over his impressive bulge quickening as his face flushes red. "fuck, just like that. keep rubbing that pretty little button for me, baby. look at you, you're fucking soaked"

your fingers grow faster over your throbbing clit, your breaths becoming more labored as you feel pressure beginning to build in your tummy. as soon as you recognize what's about to happen, a familiar sense of doubt hits you as your motions begin to falter. "r-ran," you choke out, big eyes looking up at him for help.

he's immediately leaning down with a worried look on his face, quickly recognizing the problem. "no, no baby, it's okay," he tries to cheer you on, "just keep going, you're almost there"

"can't do it," you frown as your poor clit twitches helplessly after being abandoned so abruptly

"yeah you can, come on. let me help," you can't even think to speak up or stop him before he's reaching down, using his own fingers to resume the stimulation. for whatever reason, you lay back and take it. "spread yourself open for me, sweetheart. just like you did before, there," he hums in approval as your hands fumble to do as he instructed. he keeps his pace steady over your hardened nub, watching as you quickly near the edge once more

"now come on, baby. be a big girl and come for me," with him towering over you, one hand gripping himself shamelessly through his pants while the other works your burning button just right, he's able to coax an orgasm out of you with just a simple command

"there it is, that's my girl," he's beaming proudly as you're finally given your release. the sight of you losing control under his simple touch and order is too much for him to handle; he comes right there in his jeans with a loud groan 😌

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

@thezombieprostitute

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@bval-1

[dungeonpuppykai]

hear me out ok the 5 cevens characters working together to fluster bunny. like randomly one morning she wakes up and she's getting it from all sides. poor bunny is teased to tears before ransom or jensen finally take some sympathy on her and let her cockwarm them while hiding her embarrassed teary eyes <3

Oh God I am melting becauseee-

Warning(s): Somnophilia (consensual), dacryphilia, gangbang, corruption kink, p-in-v, blow job, anal, boob fucking, handjob, degredation, cockwarming.

Bunny is confused at first, (the innocence of which drives Lloyd mad), then turned on but then soon overwhelmed due to how much of a sensitive Princess she is. 

Daddies had discussed this with her a couple weeks ago with a mutual agreement that whenever it happens it will be a surprise because Bunny always has her safe word anyways.

"Hnnng~" her plugged mouth vibrates against Lloyd's cock as Ari stretches her unsuspecting and very tight pussy with a capital S. 

She's basically hanging between the huge men and being held up solely by their cocks like one of those hentais. 

Andy is grunting behind her as he wraps her hair around his fist and pushes his fat dick between her plump ass cheeks and up her much lubed pucker. 

Jensen is still praising her for being so brave as he guides her smaller hand around his girth, free hand stroking her hair which was the only consolation with all the violation going on. 

"Dirty little horn Bunny" Ari snickers from his spot as he feels her move around him. "Half asleep but still moaning and clenching around our cocks while we fuck her dumb."

Lloyd hisses as he enters her throat from his spot besides her since Ransom is thrusting between her tits.

The dark haired man grunts and curses at the sight before him as he rocks his hips against her chest, holding both of Bunny's tits together while she hangs propped up by all their cocks, panting through her nostrils. 

She's spread out and filled to all her brims like a lifeless fuck doll, lazy eyes scanning her surroundings through her still droopy eyelids. 

It goes on for hours. 

Some daddies even change positions. 

Touching, teaching, fucking, degradation and praise which is just Jensen building her up for the other daddies (and him) to crush back down. 

Bunny is a whining and crying gurgling mess by the end of it, covered in cum and tears as she trembles on her hands and knees, their juices leaking out of all her holes.

"Aw, would you look at this leaking little breeding bunny" Jensen chuckles darkly as the other Daddies enjoy the sight.

Bunny ducks her head as this rare side of Jensen makes her feel even more vulnerable, exposed and small, if it were even possible after all that.

Ransom chuckles to himself when her bottom lip wobbles and eyes tear up. 

"But she's a good breeding bunny, isn't that right?" His fingers slip through her sweaty hair as he comfortingly caresses it. 

Bunny peaks up at him only through her lashes and murmurs out a weak and broken 'yes Daddy'.

"Look at how small and pathetic she is. Nothing but a fine set of tight little holes" Lloyd's spank is cruel as it nearly echoes in the room. 

Bunny whimpers into Ransom's hand again and that is when he finally takes mercy at the fucked out sight. 

"Little Bunny can't take any more, huh? Needs Daddy to protect and take care of her?" She vigorously nods, feeling the gazes of the other Daddies almost cut her skin.

Ransom's chest swells with pride and authority when he sits on her Princess Bunny bed and pats his thigh. 

The girl obediently crawls into it before nuzzling her red face in his broad chest. 

The male positions his cock against her much well lubricated entrance before gripping her hips and lowering her down on it. 

Bunny moans and whimpers, tightening her arms around him as she clenches in defense before eventually adjusting to Ransom's thick and veiny girth, feeling him just under organs. 

It's not long before she's snoring against his chest, exhausted from the erotic episode.

Ransom continues to rock them back and forth slowly, caressing her back as he presses a reassuring kiss to the top of her head every now and then. 

The other Daddies leave but not before Ari makes the remark that she's just like a fuck doll, being turned on to serve her purpose and then going right back to idle mode when her batteries run out. 

Andy, Lloyd and Jensen snicker as they follow the giant out of the room.

Maybe they will wake her the same way later. 

With their little slut Bunny, the possibilities are endless.

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,776

A/N: whew. okay. we’re back, we’re updating, and we’re getting back on track. i think the motivation behind the madness is becoming a little clearer. or at least, more clear. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and especially reblogs are always appreciated. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​

It’s your wedding day, again. 

  You remember the soft white satin of your dress like it was yesterday—only it’s today, isn’t it? How can something happen again if it hasn’t happened yet? You look down at your hands, where the lacy sleeves of your wedding dress loop gracefully around your thumbs—your nails are picked raw and bleeding. You look back up at the mirror, and your own distraught face stares back at you. 

  I don’t want to get married. 

  No, that isn’t right—this is a good day, a happy day, why don’t you want it anymore? There is knowledge that dances just out of touch as you stare fuzzily at the mirror in your bridal suite. Something is wrong, but you don’t remember what it is. The mirror fragments, each component folding away as the world tilts on it’s axis, wood flooring becoming red carpet strewn with rose petals. 

  You stand at the altar, the priest beaming at you. 

  You will take him won’t you? As husband, husband and wife—Ransom splits in two like a cell, and both of them hold your hands so tight the bones creak and hurt and—

  “I love you, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling, Mine—” One voice, two mouths, one person, two bodies. You don’t realize they’re pulling until you tear, splitting right down the middle  like you’re made of tissue paper. too. Pulling you to bloody pieces as they repeat oaths of husbandly devotion. 

  My wife.

  MY  WIFE.

  You wake up in darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. It disorients you, and you blink, expecting the cloud to clear from your eyes but it doesn’t. Immediately your hand goes to your stomach, and your frantic heartbeat calms just a fraction as you rest a hand on the gentle swell. The thoughts in your head are still an anxious jumble. Ransom, Lloyd, the party—

  God, the party. 

  Your stomach churns as you recall Lloyd’s cruel smile. 

  Tell him. Tell me what he says. 

  You clap a hand to your mouth as an anguished sob threatens to escape. Ransom, Lloyd… where had they taken you? You frantically feel your way to the edge of the bed, your feet slipping a little on the cool tile as you stand. 

  “H-hello?” You call out into the darkness, but there’s no response. Trembling, you begin taking short, halting steps forward, your hands outstretched. “P-please, someone—fuck!” You curse loudly as your foot catches the edge of something, a table, a chair, you can’t tell. “Answer me!” 

  No one does. 

  You wander forward blindly until you reach a wall, and, feeling along it, you feel plaster turn to glass. You gasp, frantically dragging your hands along the surface until feel something—a switch. You flick it up, and there’s a sound like whirring gears. The lights don’t come on, but something else happens instead: the blackout shades on the other side of the thick pane of glass begin to lift, light creeping in underneath the edge. It’s blinding at first, spots dancing in your eyes as you throw a hand up to shield them, but after a moment, they adjust. 

  You see… a beach. 

  An empty beach. 

  The clear blue water comes straight up to the window like an aquarium. There are no people on the pristine, white sand—no one to hear you as you frantically beat your palm against the glass. Frantically, you turn around to take stock of the room, grabbing for a nearby chair. You knock over the little coffee table in the sitting area next to you, but you don’t care. It takes all your strength to heft it above your head, screaming as you slam it into the glass—

  But nothing happens. It connects with a dull thud, the treated wood splintering as it cracks. The window is unharmed, barely even scratched. An anguished wail tears from your chest as you throw everything within reach that you can lift, beating everything into splinters until you’re left panting and sobbing in the wreckage. 

  “Sweetheart you know that really isn’t good for the baby.” You whirl around frantically, grabbing for the leg of a chair you’d broken into kindling against the indestructible-fucking-window, brandishing it threateningly. You hadn’t even heard the sound of a door opening—in fact, as you stare, wide-eyed around the room, trying to pin down his point of entry, you can’t seem to find a door at all in the lavishly decorated suite. 

  “Fuck you!” You snarl at him, your lip curling. “Let—let me out of here!” Ransom clucks his tongue at you like you’re an errant child.

  “You’re a smart girl, Love. You know I’m not going to do that.” 

  “You can’t fucking keep me in here—” Ransom shakes his head. 

  “I can, Sweetheart. And I’m going to. We’re going to.” He casts a disparaging look down at the ruined chairs and table by your feet. “Lloyd did tell me not to put the good stuff in first—I underestimated your temper.” The casual remark makes you want to swing your makeshift bat at his head. “He designed it for you, you know. I thought we could just lock you in the basement, but now that I see it, I think this is better.” 

  “You’re a monster.” You’re crying, hard, hysterical sobs that leave your throat raw and aching. He actually has the gall to look hurt by your insult, his face crumpling as his mouth presses into a thin, angry line. 

  “A monster that loves you. That would do anything to protect you—even from yourself.” Your body seizes with fear as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, gripping your shoulders with furious hands. You whine as he squeezes, pressing harder and harder until you drop the scrap of wood you’re holding. You don’t know this Ransom, this maniacal, cruel man wearing your husband’s face, your husband’s ring. 

  “Do you remember what it was like when we got together?” He asks. Ransom shakes you a little, like he’s trying to jog your memory. “Living at home with your parents, helping them with every single bill because you were terrified your sister was going to graduate high-school on the streets—”

  “So what?” You spit back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

  “I gave you everything.” For the first time you see the same possessive madness in his eyes you’d seen in Lloyd’s. “And you think you can just walk away? Take from me until you’ve gotten your fill? That’s not how this works, Sweetheart.” He releases you and you stumble away, clutching yourself. He straightens his shirt, smoothing back the errant hairs that have fallen into his face. 

  “We’re going to give you such a good life, Sweetheart. You just have to trust us.” 

  “I will never trust you again.” You growl the words at him like a threat. “I hate you.” And then, inexplicably, he’s your Ransom again, his blue eyes soft as he looks at you, like he knows something you haven’t yet come to accept. Like an adult admonishing a child for fears they’ll soon leave behind as they grow to accept the way things are—the way they always will be. 

  “You won’t always.” His eyes flick down to the destruction you’ve wrought, and he clucks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll talk to Lloyd about bringing in some new furniture for you, if you’re good.” Ransom’s handsome mouth curves up into an amused smile. “Maybe something a little heavier.” He kicks at a piece of the table, before making his way back over to the other side of the room. A door the same color as the wall opens at his touch. 

“Lunch in an hour.” 

—

   True to his word Ransom returns with Lloyd in tow, a tray held in his large hands. You’d waited for this moment with a dark sort of anticipation, and for a brief moment, their stunned, angry expressions as the door panel slides open fill you with a sense of profound pride.

   You’d done your level best to destroy everything that wasn’t nailed down,  methodically and systematically taking apart everything you could get your hand on. Even the mattress lies ruined, feathers and wood splinters littering the torn cover. Though the mirror had refused to break—and indeed proved too heavy for you to lift—you feel a smug satisfaction in seeing what you had been able to accomplish with jagged pieces of plywood.  

  Fuck you. 

  Lloyd steps in first, squatting down to inspect a piece of the smashed coffee table. 

  “I told you we shouldn’t have put this stuff in here first. Empty room, Ransom. You always have to start with an empty room.” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles softly—affectionately. “Hi, Princess.”

  “Go to hell, Lloyd.” Ransom steps fully into your room then, shutting the door gently behind him before setting the tray on the windowsill. He sighs. 

  “I know it was stupid to hope your attitude had improved in an hour, but stranger things have happened.” He glances back at the tray. “You should eat something, Love. It’s been four days of—” His words become a static drone as the panic begins to set in. Four days? I’ve been out for four days? The questions fill your head almost faster than you can process them. Where are you? Your parents, your sister? What happened? 

  “What is this? What is this fucking place?” 

  The pride in Ransom’s eyes makes you want to vomit. “We made it for you. Just for you. It took—how long, Lloyd?” 

  “A year, give or take.” He rubs his fingers along the growing stubble on his upper lip. “And then finding staff…” He pauses. “The hotel, or just the Room?” The way Lloyd says room makes it sound singular, important. You cannot help but gape at them

  “You’re sick—both of you. Y-you—what you did to me—” You shake your head. “A-all of this.” You gesture at the room around you. “For what?” Lloyd threads his fingers together, and you can hear the soft metal click of his rings tapping against each other as he does. 

  “I know you’re not deaf, Princess. It’s for you.” 

  Cold trickles down your spine. You’ve been doing it ever since you woke up, running through each moment in the past four, five and cataloguing each one you couldn’t make make sense. You’re doing it again now,  thumbing back through the index cards of your memories and finding empty slots. Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters—Ransom had told you it had been a year, but you can’t trust that, you can’t believe him, not after everything.

  “My family won’t let you do this sick fucking shit, you know that.” You spit. “They’re not going to let you kidnap me—”

  “How much is Nathalie’s school, Sweetheart?” Ransom asks, cocking his head. “Per year.”

  “What?” The question throws you off, the freight train of words in your throat piling up messily on your tongue. “What are you—”

  “How much is her tuition?” He repeats it slowly like you’re having trouble understanding him. You bare your teeth at Ransom as you grimace. 

  “I don’t know. She has a scholarship. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s $63,000.” Ransom gives you the figure so matter-of-factly it’s like he rehearsed it. “Per year.” Your stomach sinks, like your body knows before your head. “What, you didn’t know? No one ever reads the paperwork, do they, Lloyd?” He glances at his brother over his shoulder. “What’s it say on the checks? T. H. B. Inc., doesn’t it?” He licks his lips. “The T stands for Thrombey, Sweetheart.” 

  You almost want to laugh for the insanity of it all—you even try, but no sound escapes your tight, dry throat. Lloyd nods. 

  “Same as the ones your father gets. Funny how his company’s picked up these last few years, isn’t it?” 

  Your fists clench and unclench as you sit there on the floor, staring up at them. There’s nothing left to destroy, nothing left to break except the two of them—and you already know how that ends. Instead, you’re forced to sit there, hot rage coiling in your chest as the realization dawns cold and cutting—

  Your family is already bought and paid for, even if they don’t know it. 

  “I never asked you for this.” You spit, nails biting into the meat of your palms as you press angry fists against the cool tile. “I didn’t ask you for fucking any of this!” 

  “I promised to make a home for you, didn’t I, Sweetheart?” He squats down in front of you, his hand out like he wants you to take it. “A good husband provides.” It isn’t supposed to feel like being cut into a thousand pieces to hear his wedding vows regurgitated like this. His gaze drops to the ring still on your finger. You hadn’t noticed it until he did, and as he watches, you rip it from your finger with a violent twist, and throw it at him. He actually looks upset at this, a hint of his earlier rage passing over his features like a cloud. 

  You hate the way it makes your gut wrench because you want him to fucking hurt. It’s like your body hasn’t realized yet just who he is—who they are, and it makes you even angrier. You turn away, loose nightgown bunching under your thighs as you turn to face the wall instead. 

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not until you eat something.” You aren’t sure if it’s Ransom that speaks, or Lloyd. You press your eyes shut and bite your lips to shutter the angry, frustrated wail that threatens to leap from your throat. “That’s not good for the baby.” 

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the fucking baby.

  You want to hate it now; the child growing inside of you, even if only to spite the men standing behind you. But you cannot bring yourself to—and you hate that too. 

  Shame is not a new feeling, not for you, but it feels new today as you pick apart the plain chicken salad sandwich they had brought for you. Assume it’s drugged. You hate yourself as you tear off chunks with stiff fingers, forcing your mouth open and swallowing it down with a grimace. Assume everything is drugged. When you’re finished, you drag the back of your hand across your mouth roughly, tossing the tray at Lloyd’s feet. 

  He doesn’t pick it up. 

  “Good girl.” You shiver. It’s involuntary, and you know he sees it, the way his mouth twitches with the urge to lift into the smug smile you know so well. “Your wish is our command, Princess.”

  Ransom bends to pick up the ring wordlessly, and follows his brother out of your room. 

  —

  They don’t come back that night.

  You watch the sky outside the glass wall of your prison turn dark, and then brighten again with stars as you sit huddled against it, hugging your knees to your chest. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your body won’t let you, jerking you back to wakefulness as soon as your eyelids start to droop. The thoughts won’t stop coming either, cycling through on a loop you can’t seem to stop. 

  I wonder what Nat’s doing. 

  I wonder if they’re worried about me.

  I wonder what Ransom told them.

  You want to pinpoint the time your life went off the rails but you can’t, you don’t know it. College, perhaps? 

  When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

  You drag yourself away from the window after a few hours of staring bleakly out at the empty beach. It feels like too much to hope for that someone would happen by, not with the lengths they had clearly taken to secure you. The comforter bleeds feathers as you drag it to the floor beside the bed, wedging yourself between it and the wall. You know you aren’t safe—you’ve little control over that—but the solid press of concrete behind you makes you feel more secure. 

  It’s what allows you to finally fall asleep, though it is not restful. It feels like you wake every few minutes at every imagined sound, jolting back to consciousness and scanning the still empty room before quickly passing out again. You half expect Lloyd and Ransom to be back, waiting for you to open your eyes but when you finally do, you are still blessedly alone, but for the fresh tray in front of the door. 

  You wait for a few minutes, just to see if they emerge from your peripheral vision, the places in the room you can’t see from your vantage point—but they don’t. Everything is as it was before, the destruction from your earlier rampage still strewn across the floor. It feels surreal. Slowly, you pick your way across the debris and grasp the tray in your trembling hands. You don’t want to eat it, not really, but your stomach clenches and rumbles at the sight of food as you peek beneath the tray cover. 

  It isn’t anything special—another sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. You check beneath the styrofoam plate just to be sure, there’s no note, no nothing, and you cannot help but wonder when they’ll be back. They’re messing with your head, you know they are—and you hate that it’s working. You’re rattled, upset, anxious—just how they want you. 

  The urge comes again to pick up the largest piece of anything you can find and smash it against the window until it breaks. 

  We made it for you.

  Your stomach churns with disgust even as you take a greedy bite out of your sandwich. How hadn’t you seen yourself and your family waltzing right into the palms of their hands? How hadn’t you noticed? Lloyd had always been overly interested, overly gracious, even after you’d rejected him, and started dating his brother. You’re reminded of Linda’s curt smile and her slickly delivered barb. You tore them apart without even thinking about it. And Lloyd’s admission…

  It was more than a little crush.

  You don’t know how to reconcile the madness simmering behind your husbands eyes with the man who’d held your hands and said his vows. As he’d griped your wrists, staring into your eyes with his own fever-bright, you could barely recognize him. 

  You clean your plate, washing it down with the water before casting another look around the room. It’s blank, empty beyond the few pieces of furniture you hadn’t been able to destroy. No books, no television—nothing. You search the walls near the door panel, looking for something, anything that might make it open, but you find little. The smooth white keyboard does not respond when you push your thumb against the rubbery buttons, and the seam is so narrow you can barely wedge your fingernails into it to try and pry it open. 

  For hours you walk the perimeter of the room, running your hands along the walls, feeling no breaks in the smooth, cool surface. You have to get out of here—but you don’t even know where here is. How far you are from the resort, if you’re even on the same island. As the room darkens, you realize you’ve been pacing for hours like a caged animal, and neither Ransom nor Lloyd has come to check on you all day. Somehow, the thought fill you with apprehension. Not knowing when they might appear is unnerving, and you suspect they mean it to be. 

  You thread your fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you watch the sun sink into the sea, a panicked, claustrophobic feeling rising in your chest until you realize you aren’t breathing. You can’t stay here like this, you can’t—

  Before you realize it you’re running for the door, beating your fists wildly against the panel. 

  “Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!” Your frenzied wailing rings in your own ears. It’s like you’re numb to the pain as you swing with all your might. You’re aware-even if only dimly—of the fact that your fists will be sore and aching later, bruised and beat to a pulp but you don’t care. Not if it gets you out—not if it gets you away from them. 

  “Ransom! Ransom let me out! You can’t fucking keep me here! You can’t!” 

  Nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, and there is no answer to your increasingly panicked demands. You scream for hours. Until you’re hoarse, and your trembling fists ache to raise above your shoulders. Still, you bang your open palms against the panel as your firm insistence becomes a stream of nonsense pleas. 

  “Please, please don’t do this, if you l-loved me y-you wouldn’t do this!” Tears and snot run down your face as you collapse to your knees, exhausted. “Please.” You mumble, curling in on yourself in front of the door. The tears come again, and you don’t even try to stop them, sobbing open-mouthed on the cold tile, your hands fisting in your nightgown. 

  “Please.” 

  You lay there until the room goes dark. 

  —

  “I hate seeing her like this.” The cameras are good—too good. He can see the pain on your face too clearly, hear the betrayal in your voice just a bit too well through the speakers. 

  “You think I like it?” Lloyd asks irritatedly, and Ransom sighs. “She’ll even out soon. If not, you can up the mood stabilizer. She’s cleared for it until the second trimester.” Ransom knows his brother, knows that’s his version of comforting reassurance. “Besides, you’re the one that decided to play keep-away.” 

  Ransom looks at the camera again, at your softly moving shoulders. He’s both thankful and irritated at the hair covering your pretty face—but at least it blocks the sight of your tears. As he watches, you shudder—like you’re still crying, even in your sleep. 

  “I know. We have to make her grateful. For us.” He says, still looking at the screen. And he does. He understands the necessity of it—it was his plan, almost more than Lloyd’s. “I still hate it.” 

  “I don’t anticipate she’ll keep it up more than a week. Two, tops.” For the most part, Ransom has seldom ever found himself envious of his twin, but now he felt his lip curl with irritated jealousy at Lloyd’s confidence. “Don’t worry little brother,” he grins. “Our Princess will love us again.” He turns back to the cameras. “I’m sure of it.” 

To be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[syntheticavenger]

Redemption - Ten

It's been a year since I wrote anything for Redemption. We've seen Ransom's struggles but this is probably the most honest look at the Reader's feelings thus far.

Definitely teared up writing some pieces so you may want to get some tissues! Labrinth's "I'm Tired" was inspiration for this chapter.

Redemption Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Heavy angst, language, emotional breakdown, mentions of past cheating, fainting, mentions of past drug use.

Summary | Ransom Drysdale thought you made a clean break from him after your failed marriage. After a run in at a coffee shop, it appears that it wasn’t as easy as he thought.

There’s a handful of times Ransom has been a praying man.

Once to get clean, staring at his reflection in the mirror after a particularly hard night, nostrils bright red and dark circles underneath his eyes, his mouth feeling like it was packed with cotton. He’d lost count of how many days since he had gone on a binge, empty liquor bottles strewn across the hotel bathroom floor. He’d prayed hard that morning, gripping the sink, fighting to remember what to say to whatever higher power would listen.

Another time to bring you back home, his fingers pressing against the fabric of his pants when he was sitting in the parking lot of your job. The vivid scene of your chest rising and falling, the soft whimper of your distress when he’d tried to calm you down from another letdown, another egregious sin that he had committed against you. You could smell the unnamed woman on him, lamenting that you would never measure up to whatever he was chasing, even as he lied to you and told you that you were enough. He’d prayed hard for the guidance for you to come home, to be enough to help him fight his demons.

A feverish prayer of gratitude when he finally woke from what seemed like years of sleep, only to find out he was under tubes, ventilators and the watchful eye of a team of doctors who were watching his every move.

Making a deal with whoever would listen when he first saw the twins. He didn’t pray for sleep that night after he saw them, replaying Leah’s wide-eyed wonder at the man who stood behind her and his son who had a touch of cynicism about him, even at his young age. He’d prayed that his children wouldn’t grow up like him, bored of a life that he didn’t take advantage of, turning to the vices that made him the shell of who he had become before he had come into their lives.

His solace isn’t a church. 

Not now, anyway, not with the shadows that creep into his mind that could lead him to think the worst of himself and the pathway to feeling better is one that could find him on the precipice of a relapse.

His place of refuge is a coffee shop, his pastor a man a burly man with a beard and kind eyes.

“California isn’t a short trip,” Ari quips, pouting a dash of creamer into his coffee mug. “I assume it was a mutual decision?”

“Sure,” Ransom answers, watching the condensation on his glass of water form into droplets that slide down and onto the coaster. “ I didn’t have much of an excuse to say no, you can’t let my children go across the country to Disneyland.”

“It’s more than that.”

Ransom shrugs, trying to ignore the needling feeling that he should admit how he feels, especially to his sponsor.

“Go on.”

Ransom hates the way Ari can make a conversation seem so simple.

“Makes it real, I guess. She and Steve are getting pretty serious.”

“Sounds like.”

“But that didn’t stop her from letting me come over the night prior.”

“Ransom,” Ari sighs. “In what context are we talking about?”

“There was a lot of emotion.”

“I’m sure there was,” Ari agrees. “But that’s not what I asked. Did you sleep together?”

“No,” Ransom rushes out, his face hot with embarrassment. “But does that matter?”

“It does when you want me to think that you had some emotional, physical aspect to you going over to her apartment. It means you’re still not looking at the truth. I appreciate the candid conversation but let’s be honest here, you could have told her no, that the agreement is that the kids stay local. You didn’t do that. Why?”

“If I said no,” Ransom begins, twisting around his signet ring. “She would have asked why and I didn’t have an answer. I can’t tell her that I’m jealous that she’s seeing another man that isn’t me. We’ve had some nice moments. Doesn’t feel like I should fuck that up by telling her she can’t live her life.”

Ari nods in agreement, Ransom blowing out a hard breath.

“Happy?”

“No,” Ari denies. “Are you?”

“I feel like shit. More than anything, I want to call her, I want to talk to the kids, but I don’t know if they landed and -”

“You know they landed. I saw the flight tracker on your phone. Be honest with me, Ransom. This is a safe space, I’m not here to judge. Unless of course, you want to continue blowing smoke up my ass.”

“I fucked up,” Ransom says quietly, reaching for his coffee cup. “That’s all I can say. Sometimes, I’ll dream about her, and the kids and it feels so goddamn real and then I wake up and it’s…”

He exhales a shaky breath.

“If I have to do this every day for the rest of my life, then I will because it means I still see another day and I get a chance to be around my kids. But I’d be lying if I said waking up from that dream doesn’t fucking hurt every time,” he finishes, trying to will away the tears that well up in his eyes.

“You’re going to get through this. I don’t know where the cards lie for you and her, Ransom, I can’t see the future. But what I do see, is someone who is taking his sobriety seriously and is a loving father to his kids. That part isn’t a dream. That’s real.”

“Yeah.”

Ari leans forward, placing his hand over Ransom’s. It shouldn’t matter but Ransom lowers his head, holding back the tears.

“It’s okay not to be okay, Ransom. We’re our worst enemies sometimes. Be a friend to yourself for once. You deserve that.”

-

Leah and Carter sleep side by side, the other bed untouched while you take them in. The hotel suite is massive, almost the same size as your apartment. It had been too quiet after a while, hearing them play before their voices had faded out. 

When they babies, you used to have to place them side by side, each one reaching out for the other until they made contact. Usually it was arm and arm, a confirmation that the other was present, both waking up when you moved them to a more comfortable position. While too young to know what jetlag is, you know their signs of their exhaustion well, covering them up with a blanket after kissing their foreheads.

The sun is a hazy pink and purple from the balcony, the breeze rushing against your skin as you close your eyes. Miles away and you’re still yearning for something, nameless and indescribable, even if you’re in a Southern California paradise.

 “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve says behind you, stepping outside.

“It is,” you agree. “The view is pretty.”

“I meant you, but I’ll agree to that,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around you, your back against his chest. “Are you happy you came?”

“Yes,” you answer quickly, reaching up to bring him closer. “I’m still trying to process that I’m away from… everything.”

“Doesn’t happen often, I know,” Steve says, kissing your cheek. “But you and the kids deserve a break. It’s been a lot of learnings, a lot of big emotions for the kids.”

Me too, you think.

“Tomorrow I’ll be gone for the majority of the day, but you and the kids are more than welcome to explore, and I can have a car take you wherever you want to go. I get about an hour for lunch if you want to come down and hear all about the advancements in pediatric medicine.”

“Lunch sounds nice.”

“Really?” Steve sounds happily surprised, your face turning toward his. “Then, it’s a date.”

“Thank you for this,” you reply, brushing a stand of his hair off his forehead. “We needed this.”

“We all did,” Steve agrees, leaning forward when he kisses you gently, your fingers going to the collar of his shirt as you pull him closer.

-

An unexpected cold snap takes hold in Anaheim, the temperature dropping at least fifteen degrees that catches you off guard, Carter slightly shivering when he runs back inside, declaring that is too cold.

The layers of clothing work well to keep them comfortable, both of their hands in yours while they tell you what they plan to do when they finally reach their coveted destination of the theme parks that they’ve been watching non-stop. If you follow their plans, you won’t have a single moment to sit down or eat but you listen carefully, asking them questions that they have answers for, delighted that you agree with their choices.

The convention center is massive, following signs that point in the direction of where they are supposed to go. The twins wave and say hello to everyone they meet, asking for a treat when they see a doctor who looks like their former pediatrician, who pats her pockets before apologizing and waving goodbye to them.

In the crowd of people, Carter and Leah spy Steve before you go, letting go of your hands and running full speed, despite your pleas for them to slow down.

You catch up to them right when they are lifted into Steve’s arms, giggling when you see the other person standing next to him, smiling at the twins. She’s immaculately put together, right down to the designer bag that is slung over her shoulder, her hair freshly done and makeup applied flawlessly.

“Hi,” Steve says, giving you a quick kiss before motioning to the person next to him. “You’re right on time. Let me introduce you to Doctor Sharon Carter, she and I used to be colleagues back when I worked in Brooklyn. Sharon, this is my -”

“Nice to meet you,” Sharon greets you, extending her hand to yours as you shake it. “I had no idea that Steve had a whole family.”

“Oh, I -” you try to interrupt.

“This is Leah and Carter,” Steve says, the twins squirming out of his arms as they slide back down to the ground.

“Yours?” Sharon asks.

“Maybe one day,” Steve answers. 

“Interesting. Cute kids you have. Have a good lunch,” Sharon says, turning to Steve. “Don’t forget where we’re sitting. Then there’s happy hour at the end of all the madness.”

“Sure,” Steve replies, taking your hand, not seeing when you look back at Sharon, the twins grabbing your hand and Steve’s.

“See you there!”

-

Steve’s cell buzzes on the table, his expression apologetic when he finally answers a text.

“Sharon?” you ask, glancing at the twins coloring outside of the lines, Carter holding onto a chicken tender while he selects another crayon.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his brow furrowing when he dials her number. “I’ll be right back.”

Getting up from his chair, you can hear his voice lower.

“I’m at lunch, what’s going on?” he asks, maneuvering around the tables, his voice fading amid the sounds of utensils against plates and loud chatter.

Trying to ignore the pit that is spreading in your belly, you focus on the twins, Leah chewing on a French fry while Carter dips his chicken into the big cup of ranch. You want to eat, your stomach grumbling as you had skipped breakfast to make sure that the twins were fed and now you’re paying for it, feeling lightheaded for a moment before shaking the feeling away.

The insecurity sneaks in without warning. The perfect hair Sharon has that you know you will never achieve, let alone sitting that long at a salon without any interruption, to the expensive tailored outfit that you know you would never fit into after childbirth renders you speechless at how quickly the comparisons have come, a flashback to when you found out Ransom had been in the company of one of your bridesmaids, blond and coiffed like Sharon.

But she wasn’t Sharon and Sharon isn’t her, the mantra repeating over and over in your mind.

She isn’t going to sleep with Steve. She isn’t going to lie right to your face when you confront her like your former friend did.

But you don't know that for sure, even if you trust Steve.

Questions float up to the surface of your thoughts. Why didn’t Sharon know about you? Was she supposed to?

None of the feelings that begin to rise are rational, trying to keep yourself calm when Leah and Carter begin to argue over their favorite crayon, their voices getting louder before you look down at the mess of food and broken crayons.

“What happened?” Steve interrupting your thoughts, leaning down between the twins, reaching for a napkin to clean up the spilled water.

“I… I don’t know,” you answer, getting up from your chair, scooping up the broken crayons into a napkin, moving quickly to tidy up the space.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you, the twins back to normal, as if they didn’t have a category three argument.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, a waitress coming by with two sets of crayons to assuage any arguments. “Just a little blow up.”

“Not them,” he says quietly, sitting back down next to you. “Are you okay?”

His phone buzzes once more, your nerves getting to you. He makes no motion to answer it, even as you can hear it in his suit pocket.

“Do you want to answer that?”

“No,” Steve tells you. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, suddenly irritated that he won’t answer it. “If it’s Sharon, you can just answer it.”

“It is,” Steve agrees. “But it can wait.”

“No, go ahead and answer it,” you answer, trying to calm yourself down. “It keeps going off so just… answer it.”

“Did I miss something?”

“You didn’t get any texts from her until today and now…” you trail off, seeing Steve’s confused expression as you fight back tears. “Forget it. Leah? Carter? There’s a playground a little bit from here and they have swings. Do you want to go?”

The twins perk up, the crayons rolling around the table as Steve blinks in confusion.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m going to take them to the park.”

“We’re eating lunch. I don’t understand,” Steve tries, watching you get up. “Can you just tell me what happened?”

“She’s asking me about the surprise symposium we’re supposed to be doing,” Steve informs you, pulling out his phone. “I can show you the texts.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you reply softly, digging through your purse, tears welling in your eyes.

That’s how it started, you recall bitterly, placing money on the table. The friendly texts, the questions that Ransom would answer. You always were offered those to read and pour over, even when you declined.

It was the others that you weren’t allowed to see.

“We will talk about this when you’ve processed things and I’m in a better headspace,” Steve says, leaning toward you so that only you can hear. “I’ll see you later.”

The kids wave goodbye, Leah carefully looking up at you as she pouts.

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Leah pleads, your head lowering to see her sweet little face. “What did we do?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. Mommy just needs some fresh air, I promise. It’s so warm,” you lie, fanning yourself as Carter follows suit near your face. “I’ll be fine once we get outside.”

“Go faster!” Carter chimes in, Leah pulling you toward the door. “Bye Steve!”

-

“You and Sharon did a fantastic job with such short notice,” Sharon’s husband praises. “I mean it, I just was blown away at how you can take such a hard subject and turn it into a masterclass.”

“Only a little frustrating,” Sharon admits, giving Steve a slight jab on his arm with her elbow. “Sorry you had to deal with all my texts with my edits. The minute Doctor Erskine asked where you went, I knew it was something big. I’m so sorry I panicked.”

“It’s fine,” Steve assures her. “We figured it out and with any luck, Doctor Erskine will realize he doesn’t want me up there talking for an hour and a half straight.”

“Where’s your,” Sharon pauses, sheepishly looking at him. “Girlfriend? Wife?”

“She’s at the hotel with the kids.”

“Scratch that happy hour then, I thought you brought her. Go be with them. You know how these happy hours are. All the booze and none of the networking. Whatever they are to you, those kids are adorable. You’re lucky to have all of them, Steve.”

“Thanks, Sharon. I definitely am.”

Giving her and her husband a nod, he slips out the restaurant, looking down at his phone for any sign of a missed call from you, sighing when he realizes there is none.

-

The twins are in their separate beds, freshly bathed and in their favorite pajamas, unaware of the tears that stream down your face.

The cuffs of your sweatshirt are wrinkled from the amount of pulling and twisting through your fingers, guilt ridden stimuli taking over. Your throat aches with the need to shout, to scream your frustrations out to the night. The pent up rage, both at yourself and the past looks you in the face when you finally turn on the light, the mirror in the bathroom a reflection of someone you don’t recognize. 

Gripping the sides of the sink and lowering your head, you begin to pray, lips moving so fast that you can’t the words out fast enough. Your tears a sacrament that drop into the sink when you bare your teeth at your transgressions, wishing that whatever higher power would give you a chance at peace. To lighten the burden you’ve carried and to give yourself grace. 

Embarrassment takes hold, your body shuddering at the thought of how you acted, the way Leah’s gaze was solely on you and your tears. You don’t know how many times she’s seen you cry, and the thought only makes you pray harder, to hide your emotions from your beloved children so that they will never know the fight you continue to endure.

Exhaustion finally wins out, your knees buckling when you siip down onto the floor, eyes closing in defeat.

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝕳𝖊 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖎𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖞𝖗𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘

𝙵𝚊𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚕𝚎

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕.

𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 ~ 𝙰 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜.

𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 ~ 𝙰 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎.

𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍.

Relationship: fae!Ransom Drysdale x captive!fem reader

Words: ~1.6k

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (public sex, fingering, spanking, mention of oral sex and unprotected vaginal sex), mind control, mean!Ransom, SMUT! 18+ ONLY

A/N: ooooooh I love him. Enjoy you guys!

Ransom leaned back on his throne as the human king in front of him droned on and on, sighing deeply as he swirled his golden wine on its goblet and watched it catch the light.

Gods but these humans with all their problems were boring. Always with their meager excuses why they couldn’t pay their dues to the high fae king. It was too cold for crops. The cows weren’t producing milk. The rivers were frozen and halted trade. Blah blah blah blah blah.

At least his throne was comfortable. More of a chaise than a throne, with gilded legs and arms worked into intricate patterns and piled with cushions of silk and velvet. The wine was excellent as well, and the fruits brought to him by the servants were succulent and ripe. It all would have been very nice if it weren’t for the incessant whinging of the man in front of him.

There was only one thing that could cure his boredom.

“I do not care how supposedly terrible the winter was, you have responsibilities to me and to your people. If you cannot pay with gold or crops, I will have to take my dues in some other way,” Ransom held up a finger to silence the lesser king when he opened his mouth again, turning to one of the lower fae who made up his court and grinning wickedly. “Bring me my kitten.”

“What else could you possibly want?” The human king looked angry, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched the fairy king rest on his rich throne and enjoy the fruits of the lands of always summer. It was an affront that he required payment for the protection of the human lands when he was enjoying such wealth. “I have nothing else to offer, I…”

The words froze in his throat when the door to the throne room opened, all the blood draining from his face and terror taking him when he caught sight of you.

It was supposed to just be a rumor, that the fae would take your firstborn if you couldn’t fulfill your oaths. But here you were, a former crown princess being led on a gilded leash as she prowled on all fours towards the fairy king. You wore nothing but a golden collar and soft kitten ears, and the human king felt his stomach churn when he saw a matching tail that could only possibly be held in place in a certain way. He couldn’t decide whether he should look away or not, this was the most obscene display he had ever witnessed.

“There’s my precious little kitten,” Ransom beamed when your eyes lit up at the sight of him, taking your leash from his courtier and patting his thrones until you hopped up onto it and stretched out in front of him. “That’s my good princess, did you have a lovely bath?”

“Mmhm,” You arched your back and purred when he gently traced his long fingers along your jaw, whining softly when they began to drag down your throat. “Nice and clean for you, Daddy.”

“I can tell, kitten,” Ransom chuckled when you let him slip his other hand between your thighs, spreading them wide so your pussy was on display for his entire court. “Clean and already wet, my eager little girl. Ah ah, you fucking look at her,” He scolded the human king when he started to look away as Ransom began to pet your quivering cunt, kissing the top of your head and sliding the hand on your throat lower so he could fondle your breasts. “She enjoys being shown off so you watch. And stop looking so concerned, she loves this. She’s spoiled rotten, doesn’t even remember her old life or her family unless I lift the hold I have on her mind. You’re happy, aren’t you, kitten?”

“Mmm, yes Daddy,” You squeaked and writhed against him when he tweaked one of your nipples, your pussy gushing all over his fingers when he gave it a gentle pat before he started to pet you again. “Can I have cream? Oh please, Daddy?”

“Later, little one, I’ll give you more cream than you can swallow,” Ransom’s smile grew even more cruel when the human king gagged at that, rubbing your pussy faster until you choked on your purrs. “My sweet, stupid little thing.”

You mewed and looked over your shoulder at him with widened eyes, panting when he squeezed your breast and spreading your legs even wider for him. The expression on your face was one of pure love and adoration. The fairy king was your whole world. Every second you were apart from him was pure torment, and every second you were with him was pure bliss. Your body responded to him like it did to nothing else, only he knew how to touch you and work you up until you could think of nothing but the unimaginable pleasure that would rage through your body.

Ransom could tell you were starting to lose it, his gaze shifting between you and the uncomfortable human king as he drew you towards your peak. He was enjoying the way both of you were squirming, you with ecstasy and the king with disgust. Showing you off to his court was thrilling enough, but he truly enjoyed using you to show his dominion over his human subjects. They all thought they could get away with whatever they wanted, but you were proof that they never would.

He smacked your clit and cooed at you when you came apart for him, kissing your cheek gently and making sure the lesser king was watching while your pussy fluttered and gushed all over the throne. You whimpered and sucked on your bottom lip when he asked you if you wanted more, letting him turn you onto your stomach and slip his thumb into your mouth while your eyes drifted closed. Ransom stroked your back a few times before he began to give you soft, quick spanks, taking a rest every few slaps to rub your pussy or gently tug on your tail plug. His gaze never left the human king though, chuckling along with the rest of his court when the man turned bright red at having to continue to witness your humiliation.

“Such anger in you humans,” Ransom hushed you when you whined as one of his spanks landed directly on your sensitive pussy. “Before I laid my web over her mind my little kitten was angry too, now look at how happy she is,” he finished spanking you and slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you, smiling when you clenched around him immediately before starting to slowly fuck you with them. “Imagine how happy your son will be once he becomes my puppy. Would you like a playmate, pretty kitten?”

The kings horrified grunt was drowned out by your mewl of assent, your back arching as you pushed your hips into the air so he could have all the access he needed. You would do anything he asked of you, sucking harder on his thumb as he slid a third finger inside you to stretch you even wider. Ransom cocked his head when the king started to tremble with rage, feeling the energy coming off the man and shivering at the pleasure he derived from eliciting such a reaction. He couldn’t resist the urge to rile him up even further.

“Just think how lovely your son will look with his own little tail. I think I’ll have him fuck my little kitten for the court’s amusement, what a pretty sight that would be,” the king looked as if he was thinking of killing Ransom, as if he could harm him in any way. “And once he’s filled her tiny cunt and worn her out he can suck my cock like a good boy. He’ll sleep at the foot of my bed and fetch my slippers just like a loyal dog should.”

“Stop,” the thought of his son being subjected to such degradation made him want to be sick, but he couldn’t let his people starve either. “Stop this. I will kill you if you touch my son.”

“Are you going to keep your oaths to me then?” A fourth finger pushed inside you and you sobbed around Ransom’s thumb, drooling all over his hand and yourself while you squirted in your climax. “Because the only other option you have is to give up my protection. You should ask my kitten’s father how that went for him, how much of his kingdom was lost to those barbarian goblins before he finally let me take her from him so I would drive them back, how many of his subjects children were taken by the wisps and sprites before I secured the border between our realms. I will give you until sunset on the morrow to make your decision, leave me now.”

Ransom drew you into his lap after pulling his hand out of your fluttering pussy, kissing your nose and telling you how beautiful you were as his guards escorted the beleaguered king from his hall. He already knew what the man’s answer would be, and he looked forward to fitting his son with a jeweled collar and watching you welcome his new pet.

[f10werfae]

Smokin’ Hot Husband

pairing: Dad!Husband!Ransom Drysdale x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

summary: Y/n catches her eldest son smoking, and with her being very emotional, it’s up to Ransom to save the day (Protective Ransom‼️) (requested by anon)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“How ya feelin today treasure?” Ransom cooed hugging onto his wife from behind, watching as she skilfully gathered all her ingredients for her famous stir fry, one that she was desperately craving. His large hands travelled down to her 6 month bump, his hands smoothing over it gently as she leant back into his chest.

“I’m feeling fine babe, jus a bit hungry but that’s all baby boo’s fault” Y/n laughed, using their newfound nickname for their next baby, their third one and hopefully a girl. Their eldest was Mark who was 15, then there was Reign who was 8, brothers who definitely got their father’s wit and sly personality whilst also having the loving nature of their mother. The perfect combo to Y/n and Ransom Drysdale

“Where are the other two little shits?” Ransom joked kissing her neck softly, swaying both of their bodies side to side as she finished up her cooking, a proud wide smile on her face. “Ransom! If you must know Reign is upstairs writing for his new fantasy book, and Mark I think is out the backyard? Here i’ll get Mark while you get Reign okay?” Y/n beamed turning around and kissing Ransom fully on the lips, a loud smack echoing through the kitchen, her pregnancy glow making her absolutely radiant in Ransom’s eyes. God how lucky was he?

“Yes ma’am” He smirked watching her walk away, not without his hand slapping harshly onto her ass, even after all these years he still found her irresistible. After getting married quite young, even when he was cut from his grandfather’s inheritance, he built a name for himself with Y/n by his side. His rock.

Ransom walked back down the stairs with assurance that Reign would be down in ten minutes, his brows furrowing when he suddenly saw his wife rush in through the backdoor, her face flushed with tears streaming down them uncontrollably. “Baby? Treasure what’s wrong? Tell me now” Ransom rushed out skipping the last few steps, storming to his wife’s side, she was absolutely inconsolable. Partly due to the hormones but clearly something bad had happened,

“I-it’s Mark, Ran” She hiccuped the palm of her hand on her forehead, the other holding onto her waist to ease the back pain. “What’s happened with Mark? Breathe with me baby, follow me” Within seconds Y/n had started to follow the pattern of her husband’s breaths, letting her calm down just that tiny bit more.

“Ran, he’s smoking! Actual cigarettes too, doesn’t he know how dangerous they are? Did I do something wrong? That’s my baby boy” Y/n cried out, her chin wobbling as sobs threatened every time she spoke. Remembering how just seconds prior, she walked out to see her first born puffing away on a cigarette, one thing she had always asked them not to do.

“shh treasure, you go upstairs and i’ll call you down for dinner, i’ll talk to Mark” Ransom said through gritted teeth, if there was one thing he hated, it was seeing his woman cry. The fact that it was his own son? Oh that just made it so much worse.

After making sure she got upstairs alright, Ransom stormed out to the back porch, seeing his 15 year old sat on the swinging chair looking guilty and glum; clearly anticipating his father’s arrival. Now Ransom wasn’t a scary parent, but he was protective and strict, step out of line and he’d be sure to put you back.

“C’mere Markie, now please” Ransom grumbled rubbing his creased forehead with his fingers, watching his son slowly shuffle towards him with his head down. “Where the fahk did you get these son? You know what these can do to you right? I can’t believe you’d do this, you’re barely 16!” He said raising his voice by a little, but not shouting, that’s not how he did things.

“T-they’re my friends Dad, I just thought it’d look cool-“

“Cool if what? You end up sick cause of your lungs and your poor mother and I have to come save you? I thought we told you the consequences of smoking, you know what it done to your mother’s family. I’m so disappointed, you’ve upset your ma and you know she gets emotional now that she’s nearly in her last term”

“I know, i’m sorry, didn’t mean to upset Ma. I just wanted to fit in a bit more”

“Not good enough son, not good enough at all. What are you sorry for?” Ransom asked bending down to his height, his lips held tightly into a line. “I’m sorry for disrespecting both you and Ma, and for putting myself in danger”

“and?”

“I promise not to do it again” Mark said holding his hands behind his back, his father’s old cream sweater hugging his body like a blanket. “Like hell you won’t, now go on and apologise to your mother” Ransom grunted pulling the red faced boy into his arms, kissing him gently on the head before pushing him inside. Not without throwing the cigarettes into their outside campfire.

Slowly following behind Mark, Ransom smiled as he saw Y/n pull their first born into her arms, kissing his face repeatedly as she continuously told him off softly “Don’t scare me like that again, ya hear me?” “Please don’t ruin your body like that baby, took me 9 whole months to make it”

“I’m sorry ma, I really am, please forgive me” Mark said now tearing up, fiddling with the bottom of his mom’s sweater, feeling her fingers wipe away his tears. “You’re my baby, I could never be that angry at you, you just scared me honey” Y/n whispered kissing him on the forehead one last time, then whispering that he and his brother could both go down for dinner first.

Ruffling his brown hair as he walked past, Ransom walked into their shared bedroom, his wife’s arms instantly reaching up for him cutely. “You handled that so well hubs, definitely better than I did” She laughed with tears in her eyes, standing up to fully hug him, his chin resting atop her head as his arms engulfed her tightly. Her strong coconut scent filling his nostrils as she lifted her head to look up at him, placing a kiss onto his chin affectionately.

“Well, we raised them well, s’jus our job to make sure they learn from their mistakes. I’m just glad they got your emotional vulnerability, and I hope our little butterfly does too” Ransom spoke softly, his fingers brushing against her growing stomach, feeling the tiny butterfly-like flutters hitting against his hand. His hopefully, baby girl, kicking against his hand.

“Oh she’ll be just like her daddy, I can feel it” Y/n smirked kissing his lips gently, her lips basically ghosting over his to tease him, giggling when she felt his hand push her into the kiss. Their kiss only being interrupted when they heard their two boys call for them downstairs, their little Drysdale troublemakers.

———

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[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - ransom realises there is one sexual experience he hasn't done yet and decides he'll get it over with before anyone finds out about it.

warning - smut, gloryhole, daddy kink, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Ransom slams the door as he exits his car, his face set in a permanent scowl, “Fucking family.” He huffs, wondering when they will finally get hit by some sort of disaster, wiping them off the face of the planet. Ransom stuffs his hands into the pockets of his expensive coat, walking toward the brightly lit building. Ransom was known to be adventurous, especially when it came to sex, he had done nearly everything, so to learn he’s never tried a gloryhole before was absurd, and he couldn’t have anyone finding out about it. 

He grunts as he opens the door, quickly pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe whatever germs that could’ve been on that handle. Ransom walks over to the counter, leaning against it and giving the woman behind it a smirk. “Hello, sweets. I want your best girl.” He pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and slams it down, winking as she points him to the room. Ransom saunters down the hall and enters the room. 

He looked around, being assured that these were the best in the business. Ransom walked around the room, checking out each woman, shaking his head when he didn’t see one he liked. He didn’t want his first experience to be horrible. He wanted the best. He paid for the best, so he should receive it. When his eyes landed on you, he knew you were perfect by how his cock twitched, swelling rapidly beneath his pants. 

Ransom walks closer to your hole, grunting at the sight of your glistening cunt, enjoying how you are already lying on your back, his favourite position. He loves to watch the bulge appear in women’s tummies as he fucks into them. His thick member splitting and stretching them open, and he groans as he imagines what you would look like. “You’re a pretty sight, sweetheart. Are you ready to be split open by Daddy? You’ll definitely be begging for more, cockdrunk, from being fucked by me.” 

You shake your head, smiling slightly at his words. You’ve dealt with many men, ranging from soft to sweet to cocky to downright rude. He was definitely in the cocky department, but you decided to give him a chance. You weren’t going to lie. His words made you drip. “Show me what you got, Sugar. I don’t think I quite believe you… I’ve had a lot of men promise me a good time.” You smirk, wanting to mess with him a bit to see if he’ll either get angry and storm off or follow through with his promise. 

“Oh, sweetheart… You should know that you don’t mess with Daddy, or he won’t let you cum.” Ransom growls, pressing his clothed bulge against your dripping cunt, not caring in the slightest if your juices stain his expensive slacks. His finger traces up your leg, tapping against your thigh. “You want to cum, don’t you?” You throb, face heating up as he speaks. His hand slaps your sopping cunt, causing you to squeak. “Speak slut.” 

“Yes, yes! I want to cum, please!” You couldn’t believe you were already begging, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Ransom smirked, moving his hands to the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his thick, throbbing member. He strokes it, twisting his wrist and swiping his thumb across his leaking tip. Ransom eyes your cunt, watching it slicken even more as you listen to him touch himself. 

He rubs his mushroom tip through your folds, collecting your arousal before pushing in. Ransom groans, wondering how the fuck you could be so tight when you work at a place like this. He grips your hips, bottoming out inside you. “Jesus, sweetheart.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits your cervix, stretching you wider than anyone else before. “After I’m done with you, you won’t want anyone else.” Ransom pulls you closer, setting a pace, thrusting hard and fast. He grunts when he sees the bulge forming, his thick tip pounding into you, hitting spots that have never been hit before. 

“I’m yours! I’m yours! Oh, god!” Your head flies back, arms flying upwards and clutching the pillow underneath you. Your body moves up and down the bed, legs falling open for the man to continue to use you. You felt so close already, the band inside of you begging to snap. Your legs wrap around him, bringing him closer, needing to feel every part of him. “Please let me cum!” 

Ransom moans, eyes slipping closed as his head tilts back, feeling your walls throb and pulsate around him. “Fuck, sweetheart. Are you sure you’ve been good enough?” He squeezes your hips, pounding harder into you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. His hand moves between you, locating your puffy clit, rubbing and pinching it. 

“Yes! I’ve been so good, please!” Your screams bounce off the walls, feeling yourself throb like crazy. Your cunt swallowing his cock deeper, back arching. “Please!”

“Cum, slut.” Ransom growls, thrusting faster, rubbing your clit. “Cum for Daddy.” 

“Daddy!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your vision becomes white as the most intense orgasm washes over you, your juices squirting out and covering the mystery man’s expensive clothes. Once your orgasm has passed, you sag into the bed, letting out soft moans as he continues to destroy you.

“Fuck, you dirty slut! You’ve ruined my clothes.” Ransom growls, fucking into you roughly, feeling his balls tighten and his tip swell as his cock throbs. “I’m gonna paint your pretty walls with my cum.” You moan as thick spurts of cum shoot out of him, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. Ransom doesn’t dare rest his head on the wall before him, not wanting to catch a disease. He pulls his softened cock from your used hole, tucking it back into his slacks. “Your pretty little pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum.” 

Those are the last words you hear out of the stranger’s mouth as he turns and leaves. Ransom places his sunnies over his eyes, ignoring the woman ogling him at the counter and heading back outside to where his car is parked. He knows he’ll be back. You were worth his money, and maybe one day he will get you out of The Strawberry Shack and take you home, making you his own personal slut. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[ramp-it-up]

All These Things and More

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Minx)

Part of the Minx Series

Word Count: 2.8 K

Summary: Ransom is a dad now, but you’re neglecting Daddy

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, RPF. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Cute little baby vibes, Ransom as a soft dad, Minx as a good mom, a little bit of angst, going overboard for the holidays, pining. Lactation kink, breast play, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, allusion to fingering, female receiving oral, creampie, edging, overstimulation, and anal.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask. This is a companion piece to Coercion and Marshmallow World.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Ransom rolled over into a pile of pink cuteness.

You were dead asleep in your custom pink chiffon nursing nightgown, and his daughter, dressed in a flowery pink footed sleeper, had wiggled out of your arms and was sitting up, staring at him with the biggest, prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

Ransom frowned when he realized that you must have gotten up to get her from the nursery in the middle of the night instead of waking him. He’d told you about getting your rest. But Golden was going through a growth spurt and had taken to waking up in the middle of the night after a few months of sleeping through. 

Ransom’s frown melted as his daughter smiled and laughed at him, waving cutely. Another woman had his heart now and her puff of blonde curly hair and light brown skin made her the most beautiful baby in the world, he thought.

Especially since he thought she looked just like you.

“Hey Goldennnn.”

He reached out for her and drew her onto his chest.

“How’s Daddy’s little girl this mornin’?’”

Ransom whispered his Boston drawl to his daughter, careful not to wake you up. It was only 5:30 AM.

“Bbbbbbbbbbbbb… DaDaDaDaDa.”

Even though she was blowing bubbles and climbing on his face, Ransom’s heart beat out of his chest at his daughter’s address.

“That’s right. Dada!” 

Ransom whispered excitedly. He smiled at her and decided she needed some new diamond earrings, the ones in her ears were too small. As he lifted her, he also decided that she needed to be changed.

Ransom looked over to you to make sure you were still sleeping, then, he eased out of the bed and managed to get her down the hall to her nursery to change her diaper and sit down in the rocker after warming a bottle of breastmilk that you kept in the mini fridge in her room. 

Ransom was the only one who could get her to take a bottle, otherwise, you breastfed her exclusively, with a few baby foods, even at 8 months old. 

Golden got sleepy right away after taking most of the warm bottle, and Ransom cleaned her lips with the burp cloth and gazed at her sleeping face for a while, before putting her on his chest and daydreaming of your wedding the previous year. 

You got the big June wedding of your dreams, despite Ransom wanting to elope. And it was outside, which really sucked because his fucking allergies made Ransom tear up just as you were walking down the aisle.

Your insipid little friends were always talking about how star studded the wedding was, but all Ransom remembered was you in your stunning dress and the adventure of making love to his wife that night.

You had him sex starved after depriving him for a month, and let’s just say that he’d had to pay off some of the hotel staff. You probably got pregnant that night, as much cum as there was everywhere.

Ransom was awakened by a flash going off because you were snapping pictures.

“Sorry Ran.”

You whispered and grinned at your man. He was such a good father. And you knew he loved you, he even told you so when he felt especially secure. Usually after you let him do everything that he (and you) wanted in bed. 

Ransom rubbed his eyes and stood up to gently put Golden in her crib. He watched her for a minute and then walked over to you.

“I told you about that, Minx.”

“But you look so cute when you’re being Golden’s dad. Makes me want you more, Daddy.”

You pouted up at him and his heart melted. He loved him some you, especially since you’d become his wife and mother to his child. But he tried to look tough, which only seemed to make you light up more.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Minx.”

Ransom bent down and hauled you up over his shoulder, giving your ass a slap as you giggled your way down the hall.

“I swear, If you wake her up….”

He deposited you on the bed as you let down the straps of your nightgown.

“I appreciate you feeding her, but what am I gonna do with all this milk now? I’m so uncomfortable. Need some relief Ran, baby…”

You looked up at him with those huge doe eyes and those huge, full tits, and his dick got hard.

Ransom always loved your tits, but they were huge with weight right now and pointing right at him.

He was super excited to help out, but he rolled his eyes to feign disinterest.

“Shit. I have to do everything around here. Have to be the Nanny, have to be the breast pump.”

You started to cover up, knowing this game too well.

“Sorry, Ran.”

Ransom saw your pout, sighed and climbed into bed with you, reaching for you and pulling you near.

“Come over here, Minx.” 

The look on Ransom’s face betrayed his need as he reached for you. You smiled at him, ready to enjoy a morning in his arms. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he started to relieve you with those lips of his, and his hands, oh his hands, they relieved you in other ways.

After Ransom put you to sleep and had a quick shower, Golden woke up and Ransom hurried into her room.

A father’s work was never done.

That was the week before Thanksgiving, over a month ago, and it was the last time he felt you had time for him. Your first Christmas together as a married couple, you were six months pregnant, and the Holidays were spent with Ransom cussing out his family and friends who accused you of trying to trap him with a baby.

“Fucking idiot, can you fucking count?” Was his favorite refrain.

Ransom didn’t tell them that you didn’t trap them with this baby, you’d blackmailed him into a relationship using  a recording of him blackmailing you with revenge porn months before the wedding. 

You two also spent the Holidays eating and lazily fucking every night, morning, and any other time you got your greedy little hands on his dick. He was in heaven, the center of your little newlywed world.

This holiday season had been both the best, and the worst, for Ransom. It was going to be Golden’s first Christmas, and, as a true Thrombey woman (you included) she was fascinated with shiny things.

His little girl had his eyes and your smile and brown skin, causing everyone to stop and stare who saw her. An added bonus was that when she was born, his parents stopped being such assholes, because Golden had everyone wrapped around her teeny tiny little finger. 

This Christmas, you were a woman possessed. Well, more than usual.

The second Thanksgiving was over, because Ransom would not permit it before then, you went into full Golden’s First Christmas mode.

Friday morning, Ransom rolled over and both you and Golden were gone. The bed was empty, and cold.

Nanny number one, Lina, had Golden and was bottle feeding her in her room. Ransom was livid.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Ransom made the poor woman jump, but she managed a smile anyway.

“Oh, Mr. Hugh. Mrs. Drysdale said that you would be thrilled that someone else could feed the baby. Surprise.”

Ransom was boiling mad on the inside.

“It’s Ransom. Mr. Drysdale to you, Lina,” Ransom spat as he watched his baby girl giggle in Lina’s arms. 

She pulled off the bottle to say, “Dadadadada,” as if admonishing him. He leaned over, rubbed her hair and kissed her forehead, noting her sleepy eyes.

“Make sure that you burp her before you put her down.”

Ransom put on his robe and slippers over his silk pajamas and padded downstairs, expecting to find you there. What he did find was the chef, Angie, in the kitchen and a note from you.

You had gone shopping with Linda, of all people. Ransom was left alone. So he moped around the house in between playing with Golden all day until you got home, loaded down with tons of Christmas decorations.

He was surly at the dinner table while you rattled off your holiday plans, but you didn’t notice, or didn’t care, and by the time Ransom was ready for you to make it up to him, he found you and Golden knocked out in the bed.

It was this way for a month. Shopping, deliveries and installation of lights, trees, decorations, parties and playdates, everything that you thought Golden would love. But no nookie for Daddy. And you even had the nerve to begin to wean Golden, which meant your milk supply was getting low.

Ransom was someone even the Grinch would think would need to lighten up.

And the presents. 

The entire first level was filled with presents for Golden. Ransom bought out FAO Schwarz for her. And the diamond district in New York was well compensated for dealing with Ransom on his search for the most flawless matching Mommy/Daughter diamonds.

But for some inexplicable reason, he missed you.

You were with him every night, next to him in bed, but he didn’t have your attention. It was bad enough that you spent so much time on the baby, but that was only right. You were his soul mate. Even though he’d loved you madly, when you became mother to his child, it seems he loved you more.

But now, you were obsessed with being Mrs. Claus, not Mrs. Drysdale. And that pissed Ransom off. Big time.

Ransom was still a grumpy bug when the families gathered on Christmas Eve for dinner and stayed over on Christmas morning to watch Golden “open” her presents.

He wasn’t telling people to eat shit, but you knew he was unsettled. But you didn’t know that he had a plan.

On Christmas night, after Golden was in bed, Ransom switched off the Christmas carols that had been piped throughout the house.

You went up to him, full of mirth and quipped, “My house, my rules, the Christmas music stays on.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and didn’t laugh, clearly done with being in the Christmas spirit.

“What’s wrong, Ran?”

“Nothing. Just got to get away from this nonsense. I’m leaving.”

Panic filled you. You thought he finally had enough.

“But Ransom, why? Will you leave me and Golden?”

“Oh shut up Minx, I’d never leave Golden. And you’re coming with me. Pack a bag.”

You were filled with relief, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t push back.

“Where are we going, Ransom? I can’t just…”

“You can, and you will. Golden had a great Christmas. She hardly knew what was going on, but she loved it. Now it’s my turn.”

You loved it when Ransom pouted and was needy, but you tried to reason with him.

“How long will we be gone Ran….?”

“Am I your husband?”

Ransom yelled at you. For the first time since Golden was born.

You were shook; Ransom was really emotional.

“Of course, but…”

“But nothing. Your mother is here, she’d be thrilled to fight Linda for the privilege to watch Golden. And you’ve almost weaned her. It’s perfect. You need to spend some time attending to your wifely duties. Which means you pay attention to me.”

Ransom wasn’t yelling anymore, but he was still adamant.

You fought the urge to laugh at Ransom because he had a point. You’d virtually ignored him. You decided to go with the flow.

“Well, what do I need to pack? Is it cold wherever we’re going?”

“I’m sure it is. Just pack enough for a day or two. We’ll go shopping when we get there, that is if you’re not too much of a cockslut and can have me not filling all your holes for a couple of hours…”

You shivered at the delicious promise. And you were ready to go right now. You reached for his pants. Ransom pushed you away.

“Save it, we’ve got to leave in an hour. Be ready.”

Ransom walked into his closet and left you reeling. 

You met Ransom in the car in 56 minutes, only packing three Hermes bags to take along. You were shifting in your seat, wet already, wondering what adventures awaited you ahead.

Ransom spared you a cursory glance, but was silent most of the way.

“Stop squirming, it’s annoying,” was the only thing he said to you.

But you looked down and noticed that he was tapping his finger on his thigh. And that his pants were very tight around his crotch area. It was then that you realized that you missed him as much as he missed you.

“Sorry Ran, It’s just that I don’t have any panties on, and this sweater dress feels kinda good…”

You crossed and uncrossed your legs, capturing Ransom’s eyes which went from the supple leather of your brown boots, up the hem of your dress that matched the sweater that he had on. You could see him gulp and lick his lips. He shifted and then replied.

“I don’t give a fuck, calm your ass down and stop moving.”

“Yes, Ran.”

The look that you gave him, coupled with the faux show of submission had him almost feral. He leaned forward and banged on the partition.

“Speed it up, asshole!”

You smirked in your seat as Ransom tried to spur the driver on.

“You seem tense, Ran. Anything I can do to help.”

You put your hand on his knee.

“You should do something, since you got me all wound up. Didn’t want to jack off and spill my seed down the shower. Since we got married, you said it would only be used to fill you up.”

You rubbed his thigh.

“I’m sorry, Ransom. Can.. can you let me swallow it down my throat?”

Ransom didn’t respond, although you were squeezing his dick through his pants. You took that as a yes and got down between his legs, unzipping him and bring out his large dick.

Ransom looked down on you and placed one hand on your head and the other found your nipple through the dress. You weren’t wearing a bra either.

You spit on his dick and started pumping him, licking your lips as he stared you down.

“No underwear at all. Just live to get fucked. You’re my little whore, aren’t you? You still love to be a freak. Suck my dick, Minx. Not too sloppy now.”

Ransom leaned back and thrust his bobbing and weaving dick up at you as your pussy wept and your mouth watered.

“Yes, Daddy.”

You nodded and opened your mouth, deep throating him, red lipstick leaving marks on his throbbing member as you slowly pulled off.

“Fuck, Minx.”

You bobbed on his cock, choking and coughing and spluttering, while managing to keep everything neat and playing with his balls. 

“So, so, so, good with that hot little slut mouth, Minx. Fuck! Take it all.”

You loudly gulped as he came, causing him to pulse extra spend down your throat. 

“Thank you for the fluff, Daddy.”

Ransom just grunted and zipped up as the car pulled down the road to the airstrip where the Thrombey Gulfstream was parked.

You turned to him with glee, clapping your hands.

“A flight? Where are we going?”

“Paris. Now get your ass on that plane.”

“Yay! Thank you Daddy.”

You kissed his cheek and got out of the car when the driver opened the door, ready to fly, while Ransom watched you with a warm feeling and rubbing his cheek. Damn, he was whipped.

After you boarded the plan, and toasted with champagne, Ransom told you of the plan to stay in that one hotel you loved from your honeymoon. The one with the view of the Eiffel Tower and the excellent room service.

“That’s great Ran. Because you’re right, you’re not gonna want to leave this pussy alone.”

Ransom’s eyes changed as you go up to enter the private bedroom on the plane. When he joined you in the room that was filled with a king sized bed, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, leaned back, legs open.

Ransom pushed a few buttons on the keypad by the door to the bedroom cabin, and up popped a view of you sitting on the bed, displayed on the television above the door. Your eyes watched the monitor as Ransom stood before you and pushed you back down on the bed.

Ransom took your boots off, then pushed the dress up your body with his huge, warm hands, skimming your thighs up to your breasts. He pulled the garment off of you, then grabbed your hair for a searing kiss while he roughly groped and pinched your nipple. 

You moaned at the delicious pain and at his passion, trying to tear his clothes off faster than he could disrobe as he went back down your body.

“Gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop, and then I’m gonna fuck this weeping cunt, filling you to the brim with my cum, Minx. Then I’m gonna take that ass. And if we have time on this seven hour flight, we’ll do it all over again.”

“Yes, Ransom.” 

You pulled his hair as you watched him eat you out in high definition on the monitor, then flicked your eyes over to the camera to make sure the red light was on.

“All these things and more…”

You know what I’m gonna say…reblog? Please!

Read the next part: You Up?

[navybrat817]

Temporary Job

Pairing: Soft!Dark Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Summary: Your job with Ransom is only temporary. Or so you think.

Word Count: 250

Warnings: Implied DUBCON/NONCON, possessive behavior, Ransom Drysdale being an asshole (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 2! Character: Ransom Drysdale. Length: 250 words max. Prompt: "Go on. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me." ❤️ @stargazingfangirl18, I may need to expand on this and have him truly manhandler her! Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tears filled your eyes as you read the email. Another job rejection. This one hadn’t given you the chance for an interview. Just like the last one.

You stiffened and quickly tucked your phone away as Ransom walked into his home office. “Excuse me, Hugh. I mean, Mr. Drysdale.”

“Let me guess?” Ransom smirked as he shut and locked the door. “You got rejected? Again? Probably because you were too busy looking at your phone instead of cleaning my house.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Cut the bullshit. I'm not a fucking idiot,” he snapped, his usually handsome face twisted in a scowl. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been looking for other jobs?”

You caved under his sharp gaze and wondered how he found out. “It isn’t personal,” you said, refusing to tell him that you were uncomfortable in his presence. “But this was a temporary job and-”

“After the calls I made, no one will hire you,” he cut you off, eyeing you like you were a piece of meat as tears began to fall. “And you can call me Ransom from now on.”

You screamed when he bent you over the desk a minute later, even though no one was around for miles to hear. You promised you wouldn’t tell if he let you go. You may have even said you hated him when he laughed.

“Go on. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me. But you aren’t going anywhere, pumpkin. You’re mine now.”

Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be good to you. 😈 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ransom Drysdale Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[krirebr]

More Than This Masterlist

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, the slooowest burn - See each chapter for individual warnings. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

One

Two

Three

Four

Series in progress

[buckys-wintersoldier]

How love works | Ransom Drysdale

Pairing -> Boyfriend!Ransom Drysdale x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary -> Ransom isn’t used to get much love from others but when he met you he knew he really likes you and wants you to show how it works to be in love with someone.

Warnings -> (G) none, just fluff

Wordcount -> 1.7k

Request -> a cute Ransom request: for months his girl showed him how to show his feelings bc he's not used to it but wants to do things right, since he really likes her? She's always giving him kisses, cuddles and all the cute stuff. ALWAYS her starting it but now he's the one starting all that 🥹🥹 @rogersbarber

A/N: Thank you so much for that request. And I hope you like what I wrote. I want to thank @imtryingbuck for listening to me while writing this one.

Prompt: AFG Fluff Bingo | B2 | Blindfolds | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Sweetheart Bingo | I3 | Cloud Nine | @sweetspicybingo

Masterlist | AFG Fluff Bingo | Sweetheart Bingo | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

It’s not the first time he is sitting on the couch, his favorite cookies in his hands, while he stares at you. He doesn't dare to touch you or ask you to sit on his lap so he can wrap his arms around you. Ransom waits for you to walk over to him, take your seat next to him, and kiss his cheek softly before you capture his lips with yours. His hand would still hold the cookies, his other gripping his thigh, but he wouldn’t touch you. He doesn’t dare to touch you unless you tell him to do so.

The two of you have been dating for a few months now, but Ransom is still careful with you. You’re the first one he really loves; he feels like you understand him and support him. And since he isn’t used to getting and showing love, he asked you to show him how it works. And you immediately agreed, so it’s normal for you to take the first step — to hug him, to kiss him, to touch him.

“Ransom?”

“Mhm?”

You turn around and look at him; his eyes are focused on you. He looks into your eyes, and the intense stare lets you shiver slightly. Then he smiles and looks with a questioning expression and furrowed eyebrows at you.

“Do you mind when I go out with some friends? I will be home at dinner,” you ask.

He shakes his head and smiles softly. Ransom doesn’t mind, and it’s the perfect time for you to go out with friends since he plans a little surprise for you.

“I love you,” you mumble, leaning closer to kiss him.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing you so softly that you want to melt immediately.

You love his lips on yours, and with his soft, plump ones, he kisses you like it’s all he needs to tell you how much he loves you. Even when you agree to show him how to touch and kiss you in a way that says more than a word could ever explain, you sometimes miss the feeling that your partner took the first step. That he just wraps his arms around your waist or that he just kisses your neck.

Ransom smiles when you pull away and make your way through the room and onto the floor to get ready to meet your friends. When he hears the door of the house closing, he places his cookies to the side and stands up, getting ready for the surprise later.

Your friends and you were sitting in a small cafe, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. You have a cup of tea in front of you when you listen to your friends talking about their families.

“And then he just threw it through the room, and the pen hit the wall, and now we have a few dots on the wall,” the one says, laughing. Then she turns to you and smiles softly. “And you really think this will work when he doesn’t even manage to touch you without you telling him?”

“I think it works; he just needs time to get used to being loved, and that’s oke,” you say, shrugging.

Then they change the topic, and you’re glad they do because you don’t want to explain your love life. They talk a lot more about their husbands and the kids or about their jobs, and you listen, smiling, that you and Ransom have something special; it’s not the ‘we met, we fell in love, we fucked, now we are parents and married’. The two of you have a special bond that is so much stronger; he trusts you so much that he allows you to take control of things, and he wants you to show how real love works.

After a few more hours, you are finally on your way home. You can’t wait to join your boyfriend on the couch; let yourself fall against his side. He always looks at you with such cute and loving eyes that you feel like he is looking at the most adorable thing in the world. And for him, you are; you’re definitely the most adorable, loving, and important person in his world; you’re his own perfect little world.

When you open the door, you put your shoes and jacket off before you walk through the floor. Before you reach the living room, you feel strong arms around you, and then a blindfold covers your eyes. You inhale his cologne and smile when you realize he touches you in a bit of an intimate way.

“Ransom?”

“Don’t worry, I have a surprise for you,” he mumbles from behind, his hands on your shoulders, when he leads you through the house.

“Please don’t let me crush against a door frame. RANSOM- I feel like here is a- there is no door frame? OH FUCK- Ransom, there is- also no door frame?” you say and hold your arms in front of you because you feel like there is a door frame or at least a counter.

“You won’t bump into something,” he laughs and stops them, holding you in place. “Give me a moment, then you can take off the blindfold; you just need to take that- and here.”

Ransom walks around you, a few steps away, before he walks closer, and you can hear the familiar noise of the cookies. You chuckle about the fact that he probably loves those cookies more than everything, or almost everything.

“Oke, you can take them off, princess,” he says, his tone nervous, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

For a moment, you’re unsure of what you expect to see when you take the fabric off your eyes; you haven’t heard Ransom nervously like that before. But when he calls you princess, you just melt. A shiver made its way along your spine, and you smile widely now. With your hand, you grip the blindfold and take it off. Ransom stands in front of you, his cookies in his hand, and he smiles while he shifts from one foot to the other.

“I- Babe-“ he mumbles, clearing his throat and holding the cookies a bit tighter. “I’m gonna break my cookies.”

You laugh softly when he looks at his hand, his fingers digging into the paper around the food. Then he looks back into your eyes, and he blushes softly.

“I love you! Babe, I thought the whole day about the way I tell you, but now I feel like every word I want to say- oh that’s really exciting, isn’t it?”

Ransom laughs, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing about his shyness and cuteness. This man is adorable, and the way he tries to tell you something while being so in love that he just can’t form a proper sentence makes you giggle.

“Calm down, eat a cookie, and then you can tell me, oke?”  you say it softly, but he immediately shakes his head.

“I can’t eat them. They are in my hands to show you something. I have thought about it for a while now. You’re adorable, you're beautiful, you’re sweet, and you’re so much more, and there are not even enough words to explain what you mean to me. You take your time with me, even when you could have found someone who would give you all that you miss immediately, but you decided to be with me. And I have those cookies here to show you that nothing, not even my favorite food, is as important for me as you’re. Look,” he says, smiling when he throws them away.

Ransom flinches softly when they fall down, but then he looks back at you and sees your eyes brighten. You love him so much that you can’t even show him.

“Nothing is as important to me as you. You’re my little world; the place where I can finally say I’m home is wherever you are. No matter what my family is doing or how much they blame me for their mistakes, whenever I see or feel you, I feel safe and loved. I want to be with you forever. I want us to have our own little family and see our babies grow up. Then I want to lay in bed with you, cuddle with you, and make even more babies,” he chuckles, and you don’t know if you need to cry of joy because of his sweet words or need to laugh.

He walks a step closer, reaching into his pocket, and when he has it in his hand, he gets on his knees. Your jaw drops, and you feel the tears burning in your eyes. The smile on your face widens when you see the ring between his fingers.

“I love you; you’re my safe place, my favorite person. And everything I can wish for is the sweetest and most wonderful woman a man can have, and that's you. With you, I know what real love is, and because of you, I can finally show you what I really feel for you. So that’s why I want to ask you: Do you want to marry me?”

“Ransom- oh- yes, I want to marry you,” you say.

He reaches for your hand, and then he slips the ring on your finger before he stands up and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer and crashing his lips on yours. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging it softly. When the two of you break the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours, and you lift your hand to look at the ring.

“It’s beautiful; thank you. I love you so much, Ransom,” you say, then you turn your head to the cookies.

“I love you too; just let me place them on the counter, and then we can do whatever you want to do,” he mumbles into your ear, caressing your cheek.

Ransom walks to his cookies, grips them, and places them on the counter before he walks to you and lifts you up.

“Do you want us naked on the bed?”

“Mhm, I would prefer the couch,” you giggle.

He nods, turning a bit to walk to the couch with you, letting you down. Then he leans forward and presses his lips on yours while his hands find their way underneath your shirt, stroking over the soft skin. He groans and kisses your jawline.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @rogersbarber | @kandis-mom | @km-ffluv | @identity2212 | @lunalovesyouu | @blackhawkfanatic | @randomawesomeperson102

[boxofbonesfic]

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely. 

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember. 

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind. 

What is on his mind, is you. 

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed. 

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in. 

But not anymore. 

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.  

Fuck.  

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins. 

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red. 

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer. 

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another. 

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.” 

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.” 

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—” 

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass. 

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face. 

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes. 

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek. 

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably. 

“Nothing.” 

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question. 

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment. 

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger. 

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips. 

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map. 

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?” 

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time. 

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him. 

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.” 

“Stop.” 

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet. 

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite. 

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road. 

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS. 

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.” 

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom. 

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.” 

“He’s fine.” 

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily. 

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done. 

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding. 

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.” 

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.” 

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face. 

It feels right. 

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles. 

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house. 

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed. 

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.” 

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too. 

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken. 

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips. 

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible. 

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out. 

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.” 

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs. 

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low,  satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.” 

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty. 

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it. 

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton. 

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp. 

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied. 

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin. 

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes. 

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs. 

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.  

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face. 

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs. 

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you. 

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds. 

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it. 

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages. 

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger. 

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought. 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.” 

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—”  Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red. 

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”  He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.  “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.” 

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it. 

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth. 

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control. 

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.” 

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him. 

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds. 

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone. 

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder. 

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you. 

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.” 

the end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️