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#ransom x reader
boxofbonesfic · 9 months
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Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]
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: 3,761
A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​
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To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—
But he has.
Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse. 
“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf. 
“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.
“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine. 
He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—
Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?
He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already  mastered.  Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin. 
“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit. 
“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat. 
“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—
You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean. 
“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins. 
“Feels good not to have to pretend.” 
“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them. 
“Let me—”
“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”
The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand.  You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party. 
The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand. 
“Sweetheart?” 
You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision. 
“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”
“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify. 
Ransom stares at you confusedly. 
“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from. 
“Tell me something about the fountain.” 
“The what?” 
“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”
“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.” 
This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing. 
“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric. 
“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”
Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the  long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat. 
Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.  
Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly. 
“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open. 
“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine. 
“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head. 
“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You  a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace. 
“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”
You nod wordlessly.
Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water. 
You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin. 
“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder. 
“W-what?”
“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you  watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see. 
“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink. 
“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”
“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed. 
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”
“I think before New Years, last year.” 
“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief. 
You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening. 
Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild. 
“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.
“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”
“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you. 
“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things. 
“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.” 
“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”
“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”
“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door. 
It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore
“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.” 
You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse. 
“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.” 
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”
“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment. 
“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”
You slap him. 
The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth. 
“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight. 
This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—
You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek. 
“Just let me go, Ransom—”
“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.” 
 “You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears. 
“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly. 
“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern.��
“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”
“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.” 
He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers. 
“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”
Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair. 
“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—” 
“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater. 
Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”
to be continued…
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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
809 notes · View notes
the-iceni-bitch · 2 months
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𝕳𝖊 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖎𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖞𝖗𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘
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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.
��𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 ~ 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!
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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.
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royalsweetteaa · 1 year
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Dark!Ransom and innocent reader.
imagine he gets hard again but for the first time he doesn’t hide it. So she notices it and ask him about it. He wants and needs her touch so he acts like he is hurt and needs a special massage.
Ofc she wants to help him and he teaches her how to give a hand job (make it seem like a massage) 🥵
Title: A little help
Dark!Best friend!Ransom Drysdale x naive!innocent!reader
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18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI
WARNING - The following fic contains: Explicit smut/DUB-CON, power imbalance, abuse of innocence, childhood best friends AU, manipulation, soft!dark!Ransom, possessive/obsessive!Ransom, mentions of virginity, virginity kink, oral sex (M receiving), dirty talk, dirty thoughts, slight degradation, praising, use of petname (missy, darling), Ransom is a pervert.
Summary: Ransom decides to use his best friend’s naivety and innocence when he can’t hold himself back from desiring her anymore.
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3rd person POV
For the longest time Ransom can remember, he has always had a major crush on his childhood best friend, - Y/N L/N. He had managed to suppress it for the longest time, - through primary school, middle school, high school and currently college - the last being the brink of breaking his resolution.
His heart couldn’t take it anymore witnessing his darling gaining more male attention as years went by. She would be approached by guys sometimes here and there, but Ransom always successfully managed to scare them away with his death glare alone. He had loved her since before she flourished into the beautiful lady she had become, and he didn’t think anyone would ever deserve loving only a piece of something that goes beyond her as a person.
He is the only one to know her to the fullest, he had told himself. He was there from when they were kids, playing house in the backyard, to when they finally graduated high school and he took her first kiss accidentally while they were drunk in his newly bought beemer, - his graduation present.
He wasn’t drunk though.
They had shared sweet moments that could never compare to anything she could possibly share with another potential partner, and that was why he had decided he would try winning her heart beyond their hard bonded friendship. To try breaking their friendship in a way that works in both favors.
He wants her feel those tingles whenever she saw him instead of the usual pure excitement. He wants her to want him as much as he wants her.
One time on a nice Friday evening when she was at his apartment for a movie night, he decided to walk around with his sweater off, - his excuse being that he was feeling ‘too hot’. No knowledge to her, it was all about teasing and attracting her to him.
He wanted to know if his body could awake subtle reactions from her, and to his delight it did. In the corner of Ransom’s eye, while he settled down on the couch beside her again, he could see her widened eyes wandering, with her thighs subconsciously rubbing against each other. He smirked, pretending he was finding something amusing on the TV screen, but in his head he had confirmed something.
She is sexually attracted to me.
I have a chance.
After a brief silence between the two, he had wanted to break it, but Y/N beat him to it.
“Ransom…” she murmured his name, audibly enough to catch his attention, though it had never left her anyway. He turned his head, curious to hear what she had to say.
Her eyes wandered a bit once more with furrowed eyebrows, as if she was dealing with conflicting thoughts or trying to find the right words.
“I just realized…you’ve grown to be a very pretty man, you know that right?”
Ransom was left with his lips parted, surprised to be hearing that of all the things she could have said.
But actually no. He wasn’t too surprised, - far from it the more he rethought it.
Because she was not like any other girl he had hooked up with previously when he had tried to suppress his feelings for his best friend. She was not like the ones who would call him smoking hot and sexy whenever he stripped in front of them and was ready to have them make his dick wet.
No, she was far too pure for that.
‘Pretty man’, - so innocent and simple. That was enough for him to know he had to make her become his. He had always fantasized about it, but now it was a matter of making it a reality.
The thought of letting her go to someone else - to have someone else take her innocence to their self pleasure made him see red. Ransom could not allow that. He could never bear it.
Ransom thanked her for the compliment and excused himself after as he felt he was growing hard, his large bulge becoming visible through his pants. He had to wank one off in the bathroom as he had his thoughts surrounded of her. Imagining his cock between those plump lips of hers was enough to make him cum so quickly.
“Fuck, Y/N…my darling….” he muttered her name, adding her petname through a moan as he was cumming and wasting his load into the toilet water.
Ransom had to reassure himself that one day he would not waste it, - that it would instead be all for her to drink and be stuffed full of. He was looking forward to when that time would come.
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Time passed by quickly and it was another Friday movie night, this time at hers.
Her place of which if anything were to go wrong, she would have nowhere to go.
They were getting into one of Y/N’s favorites, - ‘Titanic’. Ransom decided he would put his perverted plan of the night in action again halfway through the movie, though this one was beyond simply exposing his chest.
Ransom made himself think of the dirtiest things, - how it would be to have a taste of her with her thighs spread wide open as he ravaged her. How it would be to slip his fingers into her cute, slippery wet cunt as he witnessed her face fall apart from pleasure. How it would be if she put his hands on him, - oh, how he was craving her touch so bad.
His grin turned wicked when he felt himself growing hard under his pants. He spread his legs wider, practically displaying his boner as he pulled an uncomfortable frown and groaned. His knee bumped into Y/N’s, which was when she looked down unbothered only to notice his massive tent, almost poking out through his trousers.
Her eyes widened with surprise, leaving her speechless when Ransom had caught her looking. “Uh, Ransom…you’re…um…”
Ransom’s eyes trailed down to where Y/N was firmly staring at and shrugged casually, “Oh yeah, it’s been bugging me all day. Been hard and it fucking hurts…”
“Hurts?” She asked, her tone of worry now, and Ransom swore he could have busted a nut with how her doe eyes were staring at him with her lips parted.
“Yeah, darling…it hurts cause my dick’s hard as a rock and I’m not able to relieve myself…it strains me and because of that I’m in pain.” Ransom almost whined, his eyebrows knitted as if sharing this piece of experience was painful in itself. He palmed his bulge, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“Oh…” Y/N responded, bewildered and a bit embarrassed she hadn’t known of this. “That sounds terrible…maybe we should call a doctor?”
“Missy, the doctor’s not going to be able to help me with this at 09:30 PM…” Ransom said in midst of laughing. “It’s not how it works anyway…I need something that can…stimulate me,…you know, like a massage. But my own hand doesn’t work. It’s like how it doesn’t feel as good to scratch your own back as when somebody else does it for you. It just feels better and makes me loosen up...” Ransom explained carefully.
There was a brief silence where Y/N was biting her lip as if she was thinking thoroughly about what to say next. It didn’t take long until she met his gaze again.
“Do you…want me to help you, Ran? I can give you a massage if you need it…”
And he had her exactly where he wanted her.
His face lit up innocently, but it was all pretend. “You’d really do that for me, darling?”
“Yes, I don’t want you to hurt anymore…- but I don’t know how to help without it being weird between us….it would be out of place if we were to…you know…do ‘inappropriate things’…no?”
Ransom was aware Y/N knew what sex was. Everyone had went through sex eduction after all. However, to his advantage she had no clue about male anatomy. He could say his cum is a good recourse of protein and she would probably believe it. But while it was tempting to convince her to have her use her mouth this evening, he knew for her sake that it would be best to take it slow.
“It won’t be weird, missy…it’s just a ‘special massage’, nothing else…- what, were you thinking of sex? Is that where your head’s at?”
“No! No, no, no, I-I just…I didn’t think…” she was stumbling with her words at this point, her cheeks flushed as she looked to the side while Ransom began to unzip his pants.
“Hm, your mind is dirtier than I thought. Helping your best friend feel better from being uncomfortable isn’t sex. You’re a dumb baby for assuming that’s how it works.”
Y/N’s face scrunched, growing more embarrassed as Ransom taunted her innocence. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know…” she then inched closer to him, ready to give him a helping hand like she always do.
Ransom swore he could feel his heart skip a few beats as his eyes followed her hand, reaching out for his cock. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but then again Ransom always got what he wanted.
He could sense Y/N’s hesitance as she placed her hand beneath his cock, on his pants. He snickered while reaching for her shoulder to pat with reassurance.
“Go on, don’t be shy…” Ransom purred as he rested his arms on the sofa cushions. “I trust you. Don’t you trust me, missy?”
She looked up at him once again, nodding with a timid smile before her fingertips reached over to wrap around his shaft, making him groan.
“That’s it…grab firmly around the base and keep motioning it up and down to the tip..” he instructed, his breathing already turning irregular with each stroke Y/N did. Her hand was so soft, and what made him feel all the more aroused was facing with the fact that it was hers. Her delicate hand working on his cock, something he has dreamed of for so long.
“Am I doing a good job, Ran? Is the pain going away?” Y/N asked innocently, her face with complete concentration on doing her given task.
“You’re doing amazing, darling…fuck, you’re making me feel so good too. Such a good girl you are..” he rasped his praise to her. Ransom’s eyes were clouded with lust as he stared back at her. He took a quick peek at her breasts, which with her current crouched position were being squished together, defining their round forms better. He let out a sharp gasp for air as he shut his eyes again, concentrating on not cumming too quick.
“Fuck, if you could just…fondle my balls with your other hand, - the pain will go away faster…”
Y/N immediately followed through with his next demand, cupping his heavy balls while she stroked his length, pre-cum dripping heavily.
Y/N’s breathing was growing shallow, her face flushed as her eyes didn’t stop staring down his cock with fascination. How big and veiny he was. She was practically drooling at the sight as it throbbed for each thrust, pulsing for more.
She had denied being a virgin once when Ransom had asked about it, but with the way she was looking at his cock, he could tell she probably still was but was too embarrassed to admit it back then.
He preferred thinking of it that way anyway. He should be the first to enter her little cute pussy when the time was right after all. Only him.
“Go faster, darling…ngh I’m so close…so close to feeling better.” Ransom moaned while gripping the sofa cushions. Y/N bit her lip at his response and eagerly used both of her hands to stroke him faster.
It was too much for him. He had craved her touch for so long, and now that he was getting his craving, he was becoming overwhelmed. With her, he had turned into a horny teenager again. It couldn’t be helped.
Ransom threw his head back as he announced his climax, “Fuck! Shit! M’gonna…!” and with that, his cum spurted out while his hips rocked upwards, the substance mostly splattering on Y/N’s hand making her yelp in surprise. His cock became glazed with his load, making it look even more tasty for Y/N.
Y/N didn’t know why she was feeling so needy and hot by the sight of it. She only knew it felt good.
She witnessed his cock softening, and to that she was convinced she had successfully helped her best friend make ‘his pain’ go away. She looked at him in the eye, hoping he could confirm.
When his breathing became regular again, he raised his head up again to look at her and smiled proudly.
Ransom quickly tucked his cock back in his pants and wiped her hand from the spurts that had got her with the use of a napkin as he gave her a kiss on her cheek, before pulling her into his embrace, “Mmh, my dear best friend…you did such a good job of making my pain go away. I can always count on you.”
They stopped paying much attention to the movie playing in front of them as they cuddled, and Ransom was already planning in his head for next week’s movie night. He couldn’t wait.
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A/N: Thank you anon for sparking me with some inspiration! This was very enjoyable to write!
Hearts & Reblogs are always appreciated! <3
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dbnightingale24 · 2 months
Text
The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home
Final installment to 'Pavlov's Dog'
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Part 3
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I told you guys I'd post it at some point 🥴 I'm honestly so sorry this took so long to post, but last year got really dark for me and everything just kind of took a backseat. Thank you so much for your patience, and thank you to all of you who checked up on me. It means more than I'll ever be able to express. Thank you @fuckingbye for being an amazing friend, and for also making this amazing moodboard. You are a saint and I love to the ends of the earth. Without further ado, here's the final chapter!
Word Count: 71,942 (yes, you read that correctly)
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Public Sex, Semi Public Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Angst, Heartbreak, Mild Violence, FLUFF, Lying, Betrayal...I think that's it?
Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Will You Take Me Back In The Morning If I Promise To Never Act This Way Again?
I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.
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“You can’t keep going on like this, babe,” Daisy sighs sympathetically as she takes a seat next to the bathtub.
“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you take a drag of your cigarette, “none of it fucking matters.”
“Babe, it’s been two weeks. You do the same thing every day. You get up, eat the smallest bit of food, you sit out on your back deck and smoke until you decide to start drinking, then you draw yourself a bath and drink and smoke in it until you decide it’s too cold, or I come and get you. You can’t keep doing this.”
“I don’t even have a reason to be mad at him, do I?” you scoff incredulously before taking a drag from your cigarette, “it’s not like he lied. He didn’t even know, so I have no reason to be this upset, do I?”
“He was a complete and total asshole,” she states firmly, “and you have every reason to be upset with his actions. Yeah, it was a shit show, but he definitely could’ve handled it better.”
“The shit he said right in front of that child, even if it isn’t his, were so fucking cruel! No child deserves to be spoken to like that, and he of all people should know that!”
“Babe-”
“After everything we talked about on that trip...it’s like it didn’t even matter to him. He didn’t even care.”
“I’m sure he was just shocked-”
“That’s not an excuse, Dais.”
“I never said it was, but c’mon: it’s Ransom. You really think he was thinking clearly? Linda and Marta were there and I’m more than sure he was afraid of losing you, then Marta drops a fucking bomb on him, and it sounds like she did it on purpose, if I’m honest. Just to fuck him over.”
“Daisy, I just-”
“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER THE DOOR AND TALK TO ME!” Ransom calls desperately as he bangs on your front door.
Like clockwork.
“Why can’t he understand that I need time? I don’t owe him shit,” you start to sniffle as your tears fall, and you grab the bottle of tequila that lives by the bathtub now, and take a long drink from it.
“I’ll get rid of him, just please...please get up and do something,” Daisy begs desperately.
“Ya know, you’re wrong,” you say as she reaches the doorway, finally looking at her, “I put on makeup today,” you smile weakly.
She lets out a humorless laugh before disappearing and you hear her footsteps quickly making their way downstairs.
Since everything that took place on his doorstep, you haven’t spoken to or seen him. You don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. He’s been calling and texting non-stop since it all happened, and every two days he comes by to visit, and Daisy tells him to leave you alone every time.
But you can’t keep avoiding him.
No, you don’t know what the right thing to do is, but you know that avoiding him is the wrong thing, and you can’t keep letting Daisy handle these issues for you. You have to at least speak to him, but say what? Do what? It’s not like you have any real right to be mad at him. It’s not like he cheated on Marta with you, he didn’t cheat on you with her, he clearly didn’t know he had a child so he didn’t keep it from you, and he did defend you to Linda. However, that doesn’t change the things he said to that child.
Possibly his child.
“He’s not my son and this isn’t fucking funny!”
“We can take a test if you want, but he is your son!”
“Well, I don’t want him! You wait...however many years to tell me about him, and you sure as shit don’t need any money, so why now?!”
“He deserves to know who his Father is, Ransom! He’s a Drysdale and-”
“Watch it,” Ransom warns with a foreboding tone.”
God, how could he be so cruel to a child, after all of the talks you two have had? He’s always cruel though, isn’t he? To you, to Marta, his own son (the resemblance is too strong for that boy to not to be his child), and fuck it, even Jack. He can’t ever seem to control his temper and, if he can’t do that, what chance do you two have together?
Still, he owns your heart and you don’t know how to get it back at this point. You don’t know and you don’t wanna know.
“Ransom, you have to stop coming around!” you hear Daisy yell, and you sigh before taking another drink from the bottle.
“You can’t stop me from me seeing her, Daisy! She’s my girlfriend!” 
“Bullshit! You two never made it official-”
“Daisy, stay out of it! Let me see her!”
“No! She’s not ready to see you and you can’t force-”
“I’m not forcing anything-”
“What do you think this is?! Showing up because she won’t answer your calls or texts, and demanding to see her?! Leave her alone!”
“You can’t stop me-”
“Let him in!” you call, lighting a cigarette as you use your tip toes to turn the water back on, and heat up your water just a bit.
Who the hell knows how this is gonna go?
You hear the both of them speedily stomping up the steps, but Daisy get there first and says, “are you sure? You don’t have to-”
“I can’t keep letting you fight my battles,” you smile weakly at her as you turn the water off.
“Babe-”
“I have to deal with this at some point. I can do this,” you all but mumble not believing yourself as you take a drag of your cigarette.
“I’ll be in the room over,” she sighs softly before turning, “fuck you Drysdale!”
“Fuck you!”
You hear her slap him and shake your head. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?
“Sweet Thing, please-” he starts as soon as he makes his way into your bathroom.
“Ransom...don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “This isn’t just some small disagreement.”
“I didn’t even know I had a child!”
“I could’ve dealt with that, Ransom! It would’ve taken some time, but I honestly could’ve dealt with that! It’s the way you spoke about him in front of him!”
“I don’t want him!”
“You didn’t have to say it in front of him! Jesus, it’s not his fault that you’re a selfish bastard! He didn’t ask to be born, and Marta-”
“She did this out of spite! Not because she wants me to be apart the child’s-”
“Be that as it may, he didn’t do anything! Basically telling her that she has no right calling him a Drysdale, when he is in fact a Drysdale! Ransom, I know you’re rough around the edges, but for fucks sake! All the talks we’ve had about our own fucked up childhoods and you do this?! You just...I don't fucking get it with you, Ransom!”
“What is there to get?! We fucking talked about this, Y/N! I’m not-”
“That’s no excuse for this! You took it too far and I...Ransom, I can’t-”
“Don’t you fucking say it,” he warns as his eyes start welling up with tears. “Don’t you fucking say that to me!”
“Ransom...I love you, but I can’t be the only good thing in your life. The only person you like,” you sob, sitting up and ashing your cigarette in the ash tray resting on the little table near by.
“WHY NOT?!”
“It’s too much fucking pressure! It’s too much pressure, and I can’t keep watching you be terrible to people because you had a rough childhood! You having a rough go of it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over people for the rest of your life!”
“Listen, give it a few days and you’ll see-”
“No, Ransom. This is done. I can’t do this with you anymore. You have to grow up at some point, and I refuse to mother you.”
“Y/N...you’ll see...you don’t mean it. You always say you’re done and you come back-”
“I can’t anymore. All of this just hurts too much. You keep finding new ways to hurt me, even when you don’t mean to, and I just...you’re cruel, Ransom. You’re cruel, you’re a bully, and you will hurt anyone by doing anything. I know there’s good in you, because you’ve let me see it time and time again, but you refuse to let others in, even in the slightest and I just...please don’t call me anymore,” you sob pathetically. “Don’t call, don’t text, don’t come by...we’re done.”
“You don’t mean this-”
“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, please. Just let me go,” you beg softly as you wipe your eyes.
“You’ll see. In a week or so, you’ll see and I’ll be waiting. I’ll wait and everything will be as it should, again,” he smiles weakly, wiping his own eyes.
“Ransom-”
“I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay, Sweet Thing,” he promises, making his way over to the bathtub. “I love you and I’ll talk to you.”
He cups your face and kisses you passionately and you’re so tempted to pull him into the tub with you, but you know you’ve got to stop. You left one toxic relationship just to jump into a different type of toxic relationship.
“Ransom,” you breathe once you two break apart, “please-”
“I’ll talk to you in a few weeks,” he promises with a sniffle before standing up and walking out.
“Ransom-”
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he repeats, his voice cracking as he continues on his way out.
Daisy is back inside and by your side instantly, climbing into the tub and holding you close as you cry uncontrollably, as you try to come to terms with the choice you’ve just made. Yeah, he’s right in saying that you always come back, but that’s not the case this time.
You need to stay away from him for good.
The fact that he has it in his head that all of this will be sorted out in a few weeks, lets you know that this is only the calm before the storm. As both you and Daisy lean back into the tub, and she holds you close while you cry into her shoulder, there’s only one question going through your head:
How the hell are you supposed to quit the love of your life?
**
4 Years Later...
~~
You can read the rest of the story here
~~
taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @companionjones, @autumnrose40, @fuckingbye, @pono-pura-vida, @nomadstucky, @mazda098, @chemtrails-club, @bree-lyrie, @mjey12, @charlottiedawson, @fenixstar , @thickania
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ronearoundblindly · 1 year
Text
'The Root of All Ransom' Masterlist
Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (enemies-to-lovers) ⛈🔥🦆
Ransom hates you, that one, self-made, rich bitch who wins all the philanthropy awards, but he finds a way to use you to anger his mother, Linda. Bonus that he can get some ass in the process. What could possibly go wrong? Money is the only thing he loves, right?
Angst, romance, and smut; each chapter has its own warnings. Please read them carefully. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY You will find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist, but not here!
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Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Mini One-shots:
Gifts Given -- set between pt. 4 and 5
Gifts Received -- set during or anytime after pt. 4
Love of My Life -- set days after pt. 6
A Fluffy Blanket -- set after pt. 6
Beck and Call -- set anytime after pt. 4
Help with A Basic Task -- set after pt. 6
Ski Resort -- teeny tiny drabble after pt. 7
Fire & Ice -- between pt. 7 and 8
Is that a 'yes?' -- kinda anywhere after pt. 6
The Ransomizer -- idk but you're dating...
Out of Spite -- after pt. 7
*grumble grumble* FINE.
The Sequel:
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Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
***Ransom Demands parts will be labeled 1-6 in their stand-alone posts but 7-12 here for chronology and specifics of where mini-tales are in between.
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[Main Masterlist]
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angelbaby-fics · 5 months
Note
Just saw my first picture of Ransom in the sweater during Autumn It has me thinking about Ransom where him being independent and less of a rich meanie, he is doing laundry and shrinks his sweater. THE sweater. So little gets a sweater just like cg Ransom. And he has to go buy another so they can match ♡ and they cuddle and eat cookies together ♡ that sounds like a nice day to me ♡
-♡
Sweater Weather
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Word Count: 1.3k
A/N: OMGGGGGGG anon this is such a cute idea!! i had to write it as a full fic & i even have some inklings of a part 2 in mind 😳 ahhh i'd give anything to hug him in that big comfy cozy sweater omg 🥺💕
Ransom could absolutely, one hundred percent do his own laundry. Seriously, how hard could it be? All he had to do was put the clothes in the machine, pour in some soap, and press start. Just because it took him until his forties to start doing this on his own didn’t mean you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Ransom was committed to setting a good example for you, teaching you how to be self-sustaining and not just a spoiled brat like he’d once been. As a result of this decision, the maid now only came every two weeks instead of weekly, and Ransom was responsible for everything in between. 
Dragging the hamper down into the laundry room, Ransom sighed as he tossed handfuls of dirty clothes into the washing machine. He slammed the metal door shut with a roll of his eyes; just because he could do the laundry didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. As the water began to fill up the drum of the machine, Ransom went back upstairs, settling into his big armchair to enjoy a book while he waited for you to wake up. The coffee he’d made earlier that morning was already room temperature by now, but he decided he’d rather just bear it than get up and make a new one. One chore was enough to deal with right now. When less than five minutes remained on the wash cycle, Ransom heard you stirring in your room upstairs. 
He took the stairs two at a time, not wasting a second to get you into his arms. Lifting you out of your crib, he rocked you back and forth, patting your back to soothe away a sob that hadn’t yet come. Ransom bounced you on his hip for a few minutes as you adjusted to the new morning, whispering sweet affirmations as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. He carried you over to the window, and you hid your face into his chest as he opened the curtains to let in the sunshine. Your daddy smelled like wood and cinnamon and love all wrapped up in one man.
The buzzer of the washing machine went off just as Ransom and you reached the bottom of the stairs. You looked up at him with wide eyes, frightened by the sudden noise, but he comforted you once more. “Shh baby, don’t worry,” Ransom soothed, “It's just the laundry.” He picked your blanket and pacifier up from the couch, adorning you with both. “Do you wanna help me put it all in the dryer?” You nodded, always eager for quality time with your daddy. He carried you back down to the basement where the laundry room was. You rarely saw this part of the house as you rarely needed to, aside from laundry it was mostly used for storage and guest accommodations if the upstairs guest rooms were taken. Curiously, you gazed all around you, taking in all the aspects of this new part of your daddy’s massive house. 
Ransom sat you on top of the dryer. Opening the doors of both machines, he began to take out damp clothes and hand them to you. It was your job to toss the clothes into the opening of the dryer below you. Finally, when all the clothes were loaded in, Ransom handed you a dryer sheet to put in with it all. It smelled like fresh lavender, the familiar scent of your sheets and blankets. You grinned behind your paci, so proud to be part of what made your house a home. Ransom picked you up off the dryer and set you down on the floor so you could push the door closed all by yourself, and you waved at your clothes through the clear window as they began to spin. 
To pass the time while the clothes dried, Ransom made you breakfast and helped you eat it at the kitchen table. He was just wiping off your face with the corner of your bib when he heard the buzzer on the dryer. This time you weren’t scared, you knew what the sound meant. 
“Is ready?” You asked with excitement.
“It sure is! Do you wanna help me organize it?” Ransom offered, happy to have his favorite little helper make the chores less boring.
Ransom removed your bib and lifted you back onto his hip. He put you back on top of the dryer and scooped all the warm, clean clothes into a hamper to take back upstairs.
“I’m sorry baby, but you gotta walk up with me.” He said with a sigh. “Daddy can’t hold you and the basket at the same time!”
But being the stubborn and spoiled little angel that you were, that wasn’t gonna happen. So Ransom carried you back upstairs, settled you into his big comfy bed, handed you a stuffy to watch you for the moment, and then retrieved the laundry on a second trip. When he got back upstairs, he dumped the warm clothes on top of you, making you giggle as the fresh laundry rained down on you in a flurry of cozy smells and soft textures. You emerged from the pile like a baby chicky from an egg. Ransom kissed your nose before starting to pick the clothes off of you one by one, folding each one as he went. One of your t-shirts, then another, a pair of his socks, and a cute little sweater of yours. 
Except… he couldn’t remember buying a sweater like this for you. In fact, it looked an awful lot like one of his sweaters but smaller.
“Oh, come on!” Ransom whined, dropping the shrunken sweater on the bed with frustrated force.
“What’s wrong, daddy?” You asked.
“I’m not sure,” Ransom replied, taking out his phone and furrowing his brows as he typed. 
Turns out, laundry was indeed more complicated than Ransom had assumed. If he’d been more careful, he would have known that some clothes needed special settings, or else the heat could warp the fibers and make them shrink. Thus, his favorite cream-colored cable knit sweater was now far too small for his giant frame.
It was perfect for you, however.
Thinking quickly, Ransom picked the sweater back up and held it up to you. Your eyes widened with glee. A new sweater just for you? And you’d be matching with daddy! You eagerly took the sweater out of his hands and put it on over your shirt. It fit you perfectly, the sleeves just slightly too long in the most perfectly cozy way. Wearing it felt like a constant hug from Ransom. Despite having just been washed, you could still smell him under the lavender scent. The threads of the knit were comfortably lived in, frayed around the hem from years of wear and anxious fiddling. That’s when you realized it was Ransom’s sweater all along, shrunken down to your size.
“But daddy…. It’s s’posed to be yours!” You said, looking up at him with a nervous look. 
As happy as you were to be the new owner of your favorite sweater, it saddened you to think you would never see him wear it again. Your eyes started to water, mourning the vision of your daddy as you always imagined him, snuggled up in the piece of clothing he’d owned the longest and worn most often. Change was hard for you to take, and Ransom understood that. “Hey, it's okay baby, you can have it now!” Ransom tried to cheer you up, gently wiping the tears from your face with his soft fingers.
“But I want you to have it!” You cried into the sleeves.
“It's too small for me, baby!” He laughed, a smile breaking through your sobs as you imagined Ransom squeezed into a tiny sweater. “But if you want, I can buy a new one for myself. Then we can match!”
You smiled, nodding leaning forward into his arms.
“Yeah? You like that idea?” Random asked, and you nodded again, killing two birds with one stone as you used the action to dry your tears on his shirt. “Alright baby, let's go out and buy a new sweater for daddy.”
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Every Time You Lie - Ch 6 || Lloyd Hansen
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Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.
Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house. 
But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.
Both of them shouldn’t be together.
Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+
Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work.
Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.
Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -
Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓
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You and Lionel arrived home from the arcade, and Lloyd awaited them. As you entered, Lloyd greeted you with a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. However, his words hinted at an indirect warning about you not letting him know about your whereabouts.
"Wife, you didn't inform me where you were going. You used to do that before..." Lloyd's tone carried a subtle edge, making it clear that he expected you to keep him updated.
Lionel, upon hearing his father's voice, visibly flinched. Lloyd then instructed Lionel, “Go to your room,” with a stern tone, to which Lionel responded timidly, "Okay," and quickly retreated to his room.
You couldn't help but notice the unease in your son, a stark contrast to the vibrant and playful boy you remembered. It raised questions about the dynamics within the household that went beyond your memory loss.
Lloyd's disdain for the doll was evident in his dismissive words, "What kind of ugly thing is that?" However, you became protective of the prize Lionel had worked hard to win, countered his comment.
"Hey, don't say that. Lionel worked hard to win this," You defended a hint of defiance in your voice.
Surprised by your straightforward response, Lloyd softened, "Alright, alright. I'm sorry."
He held you delicately, as if you were fragile, and said, "It's already late. You have to drink your medicine before resting."
You nodded in agreement, "Okay."
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In the quiet stillness of the Hansen mansion at night, Lloyd awoke to find the space beside him empty. Concerned, he donned his night robe and sandals, contemplating whether you were sleepwalking, a behavior you had never exhibited before.
Locating you in front of the expansive French window, he approached you gently, attempting to coax you back to bed. "Honey, let's go back to sleep," he murmured.
However, your demeanor suddenly changed, and you strangled Lloyd, causing him to fall to the ground with you on top. In your rage, you accused him, "It's all because of you!!! Everything is gone because of you, my father, my sister, my brother."
Struggling for breath, Lloyd pleaded, "Wife, wake up; it's all a dream."
“Y/N!!!”
The intensity of his scream finally jolted you awake from your turbulent dream.
You gradually sat up on the bed, and your movement stirred Lloyd. Concerned, he inquired, "Did you have a good sleep?"
You nodded in response.
Lloyd tenderly stroked your hair, "Let's get up. I'll accompany you for your therapy today."
You responded with a soft sound of agreement. While you wanted to convey that you might not need more therapy, there was a small comfort in knowing you would get to see your daughter, Emily.
As you left the bed, Lloyd's hand instinctively touched the back of his neck. He winced, feeling the subtle sting of your nails scratching his skin during sleepwalking. A frown creased his forehead.
Concern etched on his face, Lloyd reached for his phone and dialed a number. He spoke to the receiver in a hushed tone, "Change her medicine. Add the dosage."
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The atmosphere seemed lighter than usual as Lionel joined them at the breakfast table. The young man brought his basketball, a tangible sign of the spark reignited by yesterday's outing.
You welcomed him with a cheerful greeting, "Good morning."
Lionel responded with a simple "Morning, Mom," sitting across from you. You patted the chair beside you, "You're too far; sit beside me." Lionel agreed, moving closer.
Observing the newfound closeness between mother and son, Lloyd continued with his breakfast. However, his moment of reprieve was interrupted by an unexpected phone call. The news he received prompted a sudden outburst, "Nonsense!!! It's impossible!!! We have the license."
Lloyd's sudden outburst caught the attention of both you and Lionel, causing an awkward pause in the breakfast conversation. However, Lloyd swiftly regained his composure, addressing the urgent matters on the phone.
As he concluded the call, Lloyd told you, "Prepare the jet. I'll be there in person. Call our PR to handle this." He turned off his phone, attempting to mask the abruptness of the situation.
You who have been listening to his conversation, “What jet?”
As he turned off his phone, Lloyd reassured you, "Ours. We have a jet, my dear. You'll be surprised at how successful your father's company is under my hands." Your grip on the fork tightened at the reminder of the company's ownership transition.
Lloyd, adjusting his tie, approached you and gently kissed your cheek. "I have to go to LA; something happened in our branch there. I couldn't accompany you today, but I'm sure Emily will be there."
You, trying to conceal your emotions, responded, "I'll be fine. Be safe."
Lloyd smiled, assuring you, "I will." Before departing, he turned to Lionel and promptly commanded, "Be good. Don't make any trouble."
Lionel, responding with a subdued "Yes, father," visibly flinched. You sensed your son's unease and comforted him by placing your hand atop his, offering reassurance. As Lloyd left, Lionel found solace in his mother's presence, a reprieve from the looming shadows of his father's authority.
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As you underwent therapy for your foot and had various medical examinations, Dr. Gabriel, the head doctor, assured you were healthy. Emily stood by her mother's side throughout, providing a comforting presence.
After the medical appointments, Emily suggested, "Let's take a walk near the hospital lake before you go back." You agreed, although your eyes subtly signaled your discomfort with the idea because of Lloyd's assigned bodyguard to always be at your side.
Sensitive to her mother's feelings, Emily assured you, "It'll be alright. I'll handle it."
While enjoying the beauty of the scenery, Emily suddenly said, "Mom, I left something. I'll be right back."
While you sat on the bench, taking in the picturesque view of the swan lake, you felt someone join you. Shocked, you turned to find Ransom seated beside you, clad in his familiar brown cloak, scarf, and sunglasses.
A surprised smile played on his lips as he greeted you, "Hey, sweetie."
The unexpected presence of Ransom stirred a mixture of emotions within you. Your heart raced, and her mind was a whirlwind of memories from their past. Despite the surprise, you composed yourself and replied, "Ransom? What are you doing here?"
You couldn't help but feel a sense of fear lingering due to Lloyd's intimidating bodyguards. However, after noticing your unease, Ransom reassured you with a mischievous smile, saying, "Rest assured, I've taken care of your bodyguard."
Curious, you asked, "How?"
Ransom placed one finger on his lips, adopting a playful expression, "Bribe."
You chuckled at the revelation, finding it typical of Ransom's approach. "That's so Ransom."
As they shared a lighthearted moment, Ransom couldn't help but gaze at the woman he had once loved, now standing before him, laughing. 
Unable to contain his emotions, Ransom wrapped his arms around you, confessing, "How much I miss you."
Surprised by the sudden embrace, you hesitated momentarily but found a strange comfort in Ransom's arms. There was an undeniable sense of rightness, a feeling you hadn't experienced with Lloyd.
Feeling your warmth in his arms, Ransom couldn't hold back his emotions. "How much I miss you," he repeated, his voice filled with regret and longing.
As you, still held in his embrace, you gathered the courage to ask, "Ransom, why did we break up?"
Ransom released his hold, and for a moment, a flicker of fear crossed his face. After a heavy sigh, he admitted, "We had a massive argument. And I..." He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Your curiosity mixed with concern, pressed further, "Ransom, what happened?"
Running a hand through his face, Ransom sighed deeply. "I ended up in jail."
Your eyes widened in shock, "What?"
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Author Note :
Hey friends,
If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!
Here's the link: Ko-fi
Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!
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Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -
Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi 🥹💓
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ramp-it-up · 7 months
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You are cute, smart, and have one man in your sights. Ransom Drysdale.
He may have met his match in you, Minx.
Coercion
Ransom thinks he has the upper hand, but he’s met his match.
Marshmallow World
Just how soft is Ransom for you? He shows it. In his way.
All These Things And More
Ransom is a dad now, but you’re neglecting Daddy.
You Up?
Ransom helps your anxiety.
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goldengirlls · 2 years
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cherries n cream
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pairings— best friend’s brother x reader
warnings — unprotected sex, degradation, dumbification, spit kink, exhibitionist, cum eating, cum play and some filth!!
summary— you’ve never looked sweeter
authors note— my favorite chris evans character
main masterlist | c. evans masterlist
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Everything’s glossy. The words engraved on the spine of the books, the lights and instead of one couch there were three.
The only two senses you had at the moment — touch and hearing.
Ransoms body against yours. And his lips singing the songs of passion, praise and filth.
“Shh, baby,” Ransom grunts in your ear, “Don’t want everyone hearing what’a whore ya are for daddy’s cock.” Filth dripping from every word. His grip on you was permanent.
Every mewl and whine Ransom would pull from you would only drive his need into you harder.
Cock rutting against your spongey spot earning whimper after whimper from you. His girth stretching you and filling you perfectly. Your pussy was made for him, you were made for him.
All it took was a glance at your delicious white sheer panties with the cherry on the front and the red cherries in your mouth for him to demand you meet him in the library.
“Such a dumb girl,” his death like grip on your hip and other wrapped around you— pinching your clit, “always messy and needy for me aren’t you?” Ransom’s voice spoke against your marked neck. “Always need daddy’s cock.”
You whine in response as he picks up his speed, bottoming out every time.
“Shown me your little panties with my pussy— for anyone too see? Such’a bad girl,” The bulbous tip angry and leaking with pre cum inside your swollen and used walls, “This pussy is mine. Understand? No one see’s but me.”
Tears blurred your vision the harder he fucked into you, your thoughts getting lost in translation and only forming sounds and an understanding to his words.
So you nodded and squeezed his forearm, “M’yes daddy, only yours.” The mixture of your tears, spit and his salvia coating your face, when he demanded your mouth open mere seconds ago. His lips meeting your lips for a wet and messy kiss.
“Good girl, ‘m gonna fill this stupid little pussy full of me and watch you walk around everyone tonight, knowing I filled ya her up.” His hips slamming into you and smirking through his words.
The harder he slammed into you, the tighter you clenched.
Ransoms’s fingers shoving themselves into your mouth and bring them to your nipples— twisting and pinching them, needing you to make a mess.
“Feel ya squeezin me cherry— does daddy’s dumb baby need to cum after being such a whore? Need my cum in that puffy pussy?”
His balls tightening with the need to fill you full of him. Ransom moaning at the thought of sitting at the dinner table, his fingers dancing with your pretty puffy pussy and then dipping them into you and feeling yours and his cum— a foot from his little sister, your best friend.
“Need’a cum daddy,” It’s pathetically sinful and music to his ears. “ ‘M sorry daddy, I’ll be’a goo’girl.” Mumbling incoherently and desperately.
“Yeah? Feel me right there?” Pressing his hand on where his cock was in your stomach, “I’m gonna make a mess all of your pretty walls cherry, gonna walk around with me leakin’ outta ya — so I can have dessert with my dinner.” He groans out.
“You can cum for me baby— been such a good girl baby.” His balls heavy and happy with the sounds of your moans as your body presses against his coating his cock— squeezing and fluttering around it, “Atta girl, make a mess on me, good girl.”
Ransom’s orgasm ripping through him as his cum spurts through you, filling you full— glazing his second favorite hole.
A minute later, he pulls out springing free of his favorite hug and dropping to his knees to see the mess that had been created.
A blissful daze as his eyes filled with pride, as he watched the cum slowly run down your thighs. Ransoms tongue gliding against the cum— his eyes rolling to the back of his head, “Taste like Cherry’s.” Muttering against you as his fingers shove the cum back into you— asking you to keep it safe for dinner.
taglist: @mackenzielovee @r0und3bitch @glitterandsparklessss @onmykneesforrafe
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heli0s-writes · 1 year
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You’re Toxic, I’m Slipping Under
Summary: He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it. “See you next week,” he hums.
A/n: To celebrate Glass Onion coming out, here’s ol’ boy Ransom because I hate him so much :) 4.1k words. Warnings: Smut; mild degradation, spitting, daddy kink; classism; Mind Games with Ransom Hour etc. etc. Please stop reading if you’re not 18+
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Your whole apartment building seems to rattle when he arrives thirty minutes late. Like raucous fanfare to announce his appearance, the door slams shut, the latch clicks loudly, and then you hear his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs.
His shoes are still on—of course they are—stomping your floorboards and dragging in dirt. You can practically see them, the usual suede loafers switched out for leather boots with the late fall chill, and probably mud-caked because he’s thankless like that.
With your attention still on your laptop, already irritated because you’ve been attempting a paper that’s only chased its tail for the last three hours, you ask, “Did you misplace your watch, Ransom?”
Turning, you show him you’re the screen reading 8:32 and blink pointedly, “Is that a yes?”
“Don’t be smart,” he snaps back. “You know I don’t like that.”
Your head’s been a mess of fog, body tense and frustrated for days, and although you’ve always prided yourself on tact and grace—patient like a saint—Ransom manages to bring out the worst. You hiss, “Take your damn shoes off, you know I don’t like that.”
You watch mutely as he does so, not without a sneer here, a shitty comment there. He takes three long steps and plops himself on your bed, hands curling into the quilt, thumbs brushing over the patchwork fabric disparagingly. He pinches a loose thread and begins to pull, tugging slowly at first, and then finding joy in unraveling a line of stitching until nearly three inches rip apart.
“I always thought you needed to replace this thing.” He twirls the string disdainfully, “It’s ugly as sin.”
He pretends he doesn’t know how you obviously love this quilt—handstitched and affectionately made, your damn initials are embroidered into the corner, after all. He’s made a game of testing your patience, gleefully punching at every button as he tries to get you to snap.
Ransom Drysdale Thrombey. You’d met him at one of the Thrombey’s family… functions. Dysfunction, you’d muttered under your breath when Walt beat his cane against the floor in a drunken tirade and Meg ran out back to wolf down a pot cookie that she was supposed to be saving for later.
She was on the cusp of a panic attack, words tumbling out like a car crash, her hand in her beret, then hair, then trembling over her maroon-painted lips.
“God, I’m so sorry— I thought we could just make a pit stop before heading out. The food’s always catered and really good— god… it’s a fucking mess.”
You waved her off because it’s not like you haven’t witnessed at least one aunt having a meltdown during holiday dinner before— family’s just like that—and tried to placate her with, “Can’t be worse than the cousin who asked if we’d be scissoring later.”
Meg’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, ew! Fucking Jacob! He’s a skeezy little incel— I swear he’s a moderator on one of those internet forums where they post revenge porn and upskirt vids— honestly, he was adorable two years ago. Then I guess he went through puberty and got radicalized on Youtube.”
You paused as she lit a cigarette and inhaled furiously before realizing that the two of you were thinking of two entirely different cousins.
“I meant the big one, Meg. This one went through puberty twenty years ago.”
“Ew, Ransom,” Meg frowned, “That’s even worse.”
“Ransom? What is he, a Disney villain?”
Leaves crunched behind your back and Meg looked up from flicking ash into the yard toward the sound.
“Let’s be honest, I’ve got the face of a leading man.”
Meg blew smoke at him, as if the fumes were enough to threaten his sensibilities. You figured not, he looked like a cigar smoker anyway—one of those guys who’d dedicate a whole room in their house with the humidity just right to keep them fresh. Rich people shit.
“Go away, Ransom,” she said, to clarify.
“I don’t recall addressing you, Megan.” He took a drawn-out look, lips pursing in scrutiny before lifting a brow, making a real goddamn show about it. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll bite. 400 on the dresser for an hour; you can get yourself something nice.”
You’re still not sure what it was about either your attire or attitude that allowed him to conjure up such an offer.
Maybe it was your shitty jeans and your sweater from freshman year orientation. Maybe you looked like an easy mark to tear down.
His audacity shocked out a laugh from you—a loud, abrupt guffaw that eased Meg enough for her to dip back inside to grab more from her stash. And when she was out of sight, focused on rummaging in the old clock, you responded, “Yeah, okay. I’ll bite back.”
Maybe it was an act of rebellion against your background in contrast to all this excess. The bitter aftertaste of eating bottom shelf food out of necessity for weeks at a time—those awful chicken bouillon packets and dried blocks of instant noodles your first year of college. No one paid for your schooling or housing so learning to balance an over-abundance of classes and a job because you needed to graduate early, needed to spend less money on tuition, meant that you were working yourself to death.
If Youtube radicalized Jacob, then habitually sleeping three hours a night in the campus library and skipping meals to afford textbooks while men like Ransom crashed Maserati’s for fun radicalized you.
So, sure. Game on.
He picked you up the following weekend without anyone knowing and took you somewhere expensive. It was a whirlwind of exorbitant dinners and being quietly sneered at down the straight line of his tall nose bridge. The front door to his bachelor pad shutting but not bothered with locking. Falling into the thousand-count Egyptian cotton bedsheets naked, the skylight’s beam spilling like gold-flecked champagne.
You promised yourself it meant nothing. Just an experiment of unbridled spite. If he wanted to throw money at you, hell, that’s his problem. If he wanted to fuck you, well, you’d give him the best fuck of his life— let him see that despite wealth, at the end of the day, he was flesh and blood trembling for the right stroke.
And sure, he trembled, but it was your mistake to pare it down so simply.
Ransom juggled fuck buddies much longer than you’d been fucking at all. He knew it was best with the right amount of emotion involved. Just enough to yearn. If he laid roses at your feet, kissed your knees featherlight and worked his way up to your jaw, cradled the back of your head, nosed the pulse of your wrist, your collarbones, asked for your eyes on him, and panted the lightest breath of your name at the edge of it all—now who’s fucking who over, sweetheart?
You were out of your depth. He was powerful, older, and more experienced. He touched you in ways that emulated affection—that brought fire and danger. His hands were large and callused at the juncture of his fingers. His pretty mouth was pink, wet, kissed greedy. His sharp eyes took everything in.
But, as you predicted, his moods soon volleyed in every direction as consequence of never being told no, and once the novelty of crazy hot—often angry—sex grew stale, you crashed back down to earth burned out. You ghosted.
“You’re, what…” he called through the door the week after you texted that it was both too much and not enough to carry on with, “breaking up with me? Seriously. This is a fucking joke.”
And you could have practically seen it—how his bottom lip would jut out as his incisors crossed, how his brows would sink when he got angry. He was never belligerent, only calculating.
You told him to leave, and he did, after a single loud kick to the frame, because he’s never begged for anything, and he wasn’t going to start.
The guilt came afterwards, with the bouquet of roses on the doormat, petals scattered around because he’d slammed them down after being ignored again and again, and you swept them inside to throw into a vase next to the three other vases with flowers in various degrees of wilted.
“Breaking up” prickled complicatedly in the middle of your chest, because despite the many shows of affection, you knew you weren’t exactly breaking up. You had never really been with him anyway. People aren’t… with Ransom. They’re towed along by Ransom, dragged by their hair by Ransom. Played with by Ransom until he inevitably gets bored.
It devolved into needless melodrama. Weekly episodes of a teen show with grandiose gestures of toxic relationships perceived as romance. Ransom’s habit of whisking you away, fucking you senseless, turning around to fight with you about any-goddamn-thing he pleased. Dropping off flowers and champagne. Restarting the whole process.
It wasn’t healthy—isn’t healthy, probably, according to most therapists—since he’s here, present-day, in your room, beginning to undress.
You fiddle with the sleeves at your elbows, thumbing cool satin before advancing, arms subconsciously crossed.
He’s only in his underwear now. A pair of nondescript gray boxer briefs fitted on his muscular thighs, taut as he leans back on his palms. He slowly spreads his legs, inviting you between them. His lips purse when you stand passively, knee brushing his bulge, hands resting over his shoulders. He’s warm.
One palm caresses your lower back and the other on himself, gliding up and down. His lids are half open, voice low, “You miss this?”
“No,” which is a lie. You missed it when evenings were boring, half-heartedly nodding to some boy’s drivel about campus life, mind wandering to someone who didn’t look freshly 21, didn’t date like it. Didn’t talk themselves up just to get you into bed.
At least Ransom was honest; he always said exactly what he thought, told you exactly when you were pissing him off, how he was going to teach you a lesson—where he wanted you, how he wanted you, and— a chill races up your arms.
He’s downright smug when he notices.
“No? You prefer sloppy frat boys pawing at you like virgins over me? Every time, you think they might fuck right but, well, you’re always disappointed.” He reaches beneath the short hem of the robe, splays his hand out over your thigh and very slowly feels his way up.
Your eyes shutter as he pulls you forward, gripping tightly and massaging up toward your ass. The pit of your belly is tightening, the rest trying to push down being too eager for him all over you, his broad shoulders, his strong hands, how he bends his grasp on your shoulder, fixes you in a perfect curved arch just the way he likes.
Ransom noses the robe out of his path, sinking his teeth lightly down until he scrapes a line over your breastbone, laying his face gently down like a child—like a lover.
“You know,” he begins, taunting again, “You make a… face.” He says it as he trails down beneath the swell of one breast, letting your nipple graze his cheek, before he presses a kiss to your ribcage. Hot like a brand, searing into your belly. And then he bites.
You flinch, hand going to his hair to pull him away. He throws his head back into your grasp, eyes glittering and amused. He quickly works your thighs apart, dipping two fingers between and sinking into your heat.
“There it is,” he chuckles when your eyes flutter, “Yeah... Really gets me off.”
You’re in his lap before you know it, your hold on him fallen off and now scrambling for his wide shoulders to hold yourself steady. He’s got you leaned back on his thighs, hanging off the edge of the bed and perfectly helpless, the only thing planting you even close to secure are your folded knees, your arms around his neck. He’s shushing you, one large hand on the small of your back, the other still working inside your pussy.
He says, “Calm down unless you want to fall,” but it’s goddamn hard when your heart is pounding with equal parts fear and arousal. He’s sucking on your tits, balancing you just precariously enough to thrill, fingering you all the while—like it’s nothing to him, like you’re an object he can manipulate however he pleases.
His cock is erect, flexing against the fabric over his groin, a swell of hard, aching muscle. You want to put your hand around it, feel its girth in your palm, simply hold it because you do fucking miss it. The places he can reach, the ways he spreads you, rocking in and pulling out—how he sometimes settles inside, and then does nothing but watch you squirm.
It’s undeniably gorgeous—and he is too—when you fumble it out after he lays you down and hovers over you with interest. You’re wetting your lips automatically, staring in awe at his thick shaft sprouting from soft, dark, curls, the tip of it smooth and almost purple, swollen up with blood.
“Legs up,” and the way he says it, how he just goes right out and says it, makes you groan.
Boys don’t do that. Too busy in their heads about peacocking and re-enacting the kind of porno where performers wordlessly move into new positions in sync, nothing verbal exchanged but high-pitched shrieking and nasally fuck me’s.
Ransom’s extremely verbal in bed. He easily says, “Look at me. Show me how much you want it,” and flits his eyes between your bodies.  
You do, shivering, sliding two fingers along the sides of your folds, finding yourself aroused and damp, humiliated and incredibly turned on when he grins, simply content with watching. Your thighs are squeezing reflexively, abdomen crunching up trying to keep it together.
But he’s never been patient, and quickly tells you to hold your knees, rock back, make yourself small and exposed, and then he’s delving gently into your hole— thumbs taking turns, coaxing more.
Two fingers tuck in, then another two struggle next to them, and you can’t stop yourself from gasping and crying out at how he pulls apart the walls of your cunt.
The sound of it— sloppy, squelching, a light and hollow kind of noise like a tongue flicking inside an open mouth.
“Look at this pretty pussy.” He tugs a little more, and you wriggle into it, gripping your legs tighter, pulling your knees up, shins toward your burning face to hide.
He descends on your clit, tip of his tongue licking into your stretched hole, purposefully only running against the taut skin around his fingers. “You got a talent, baby,” he murmurs, buzzing. “I could fuck you the whole day, fuck you numb… but give you about half an hour and it’s good as new, tight and perfect.”
There had been marathon rounds of bouncing in his lap between being at each other’s throats, his thighs splitting yours, hands holding you up, nibbling at your ear. Then he’d turn you around, take you to the floor until you collapsed on the bearskin rug, the sweat on your neck and chest rolling into dark furs. Railed you until you were so sensitive anything would make you come; your body unsure if it was considered your own anymore.
Fuck, fight, rinse, and repeat.
“Are you—going to talk all night?” You grunt up to the ceiling, trying to steel yourself from panting or moaning and only barely making it.
“Thought you liked it when I talked.”  His dark head is still between your legs, nose pressed into your skin, licking agonizingly slow with his entire tongue. It’s so warm, and gentle, and assertive. “What, you don’t like being told how good you taste?”
He keeps licking, pushing at the back of your knees when you try to switch positions, holding you in that bent up pose. He’s suckling at your clit when his fingers find their way back inside, easily hooking in three and pumping them smoothly.
“How—” he sucks hard, the shape of his full, plush lips fitted over you making a filthy wet smack, “mmm—I love the taste of your sweet pussy?”
When you come like it’s being ripped out of you, legs shaking around his head, lines of his spit dripping down your ass and onto the sheets, he lets you go with a hard slap on your sex, and you nearly wail.
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Yeah, you missed me, huh? You missed it like this, didn’t you? Tell me.”
“Unnng …” a high whine, “Ransom.”
“I know,” he mumbles, kissing up your belly, your neck, your ear.
He moves into position, entering effortlessly after all his prep work, and the shine of your juice still on his beard is fucking unholy hot. He’s grinning and panting, eyes fluttering briefly as he slides home.
“I know it’s big, baby. But you can take it, you’re gonna take it.” He’s a fraction unfocused, letting himself enjoy how you squeeze around him before he begins to punish.
Jesus, you missed this. Missed the agonizing drag of his shaft that feels like it goes on and on forever. Miss the way you get full of him, miss how it almost hurts.
His hipbones are hitting against yours, a steady fast rhythm because he’s experienced like that. Whereas some others might go faster when you’re close, Ransom stays at the pace that got you there in the first place. If anything, he pushes just a bit harder, makes you listen to the sound of his skin on yours, the choke of your breath he punches out.
You crunch yourself up smaller, toes touching the headboard now. Anything to get him further in.
“Fuck, you’re a slut,” he laughs. “Pretty little slut, god you don’t give it up like this for anyone else, do you?”
There’s not enough sense in you to argue even if you wanted to. The room is swimming, undulating, slipping further and further out of reach as the bed rocks and squeaks in protest. You’re sure you met a very handsome guy at the bar weeks ago but as soon as he started hinting that he was interested and stirred up conversation by asking your major, you left.
It just… wasn’t there. It wasn’t the same. No way in hell.
That boy wouldn’t have done this—wouldn’t be planting one foot on the bed, the other knee still down, enormous hands tight on your hips and crashing in.
You could cry, it feels so goddamn good.
Tears dribble their way out from the corner of your eyes. You turn your face enough to get a breath of fresh air, gulping it in frantically between the drive of Ransom’s cock and the half second he slides out.
You vaguely register his hand moving from your hip to your cheek, knuckles brushing upward.
“Oh,” he sighs, “pretty, pretty girl.” He slows his pace, nearly stilling. You squirm beneath him, inching away from how deep he is inside you, how intimate it feels as he kisses the hollow of your cheek and then toward your brow.
“So sweet for me,” he says, pulsing, making you whine with how he pushes against your sore walls. “Did I make a slut out of you? Huh? Make you stupid for my dick?”
“Make me come,” you say. “Make me—“
“Ask me real nice, baby. Ask daddy to make you come.”
You want to hit him. Kill him.
“No?” He whispers into the sensitive shell of your ear, “You don’t want it?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment clawing up your face, but Ransom’s hold is tighter, sharper, and he really is— so fucking right. You want it. And he’s made you a little stupid, so yeah--
“Please make me come, daddy. I wanna come.”
The Cheshire grin that unfurls on his face is more panther than cat. “You wanna come on daddy’s big cock?”
“Yes, daddy,” you admit. “I wanna so bad.”
“Oh, that’s it, baby. You’re a good girl, aren’t you. You put on a little show just for me? Act like you don’t want it but soon as I get in you and you let me lay you out anywhere, make you say anything.”
You turn away but he’s got your fucking number— got you as a boneless, spineless mess beneath him as he begins to fuck you again, and harder, his calculating, beautiful, cruel face hanging above you like a fever dream.
“You gonna come? Gonna cry?”
He’s melting away, he’s everywhere, and the lights behind your eyelids are starting to glare and threaten to explode.
“Gonna come for daddy, huh. That’s it, baby. That’s my girl, let me feel your pussy— ah— there it is— you can’t help it, can you? Mmm, swallow daddy’s cock with your pussy.”
Your orgasm is a wreck of curses and teeth on Ransom’s shoulder when he drops down close enough to make contact. You shake and whimper, struggling to calm yourself through the aftershocks.
When you’re done, still floaty but more aware, the mess of your humming insides less tight around him, he pulls out and shuffles up until his swollen tip is at your chin.  
You obey wordlessly, and afterwards, when the flex of his shaft is tell-tale, and he empties into your mouth, you hold it there, show him the mess.
“Baby,” he says, slowly making his way back down, admiring the come submerging your tongue.
Ransom licks his lips, licks the inside of his cheek, and leans back over again, his eyes liquid darkness and pleased as punch. And he drops a line of spit on top, drools it down over your teeth, into your mouth, and says, “Good girl.”
-
“You need a new laptop.” He’s tugging his belt until the clasp hooks into place.
“I don’t.”
“It looks old.”
“So do you.”
He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it.
“See you next week,” he hums.
You don’t say anything in response, only listening for the same heavy footsteps slam back downstairs—perhaps a fraction lighter—and the clunk of the door swinging shut. A long breath and you stretch slowly, letting your body regain its normal shape before he bent you into a goddamn pretzel. A few minutes pass, and then a few more, and you hear the roar of his car speed out of the parking lot.
Safe now, out of his reach, you amble back up into your computer chair to face the awful white, blank document staring back like a judgmental audience. You slide in and crack your neck, feeling the throb between your thighs yield to a less uncomfortable ache.
The problem, you’ve learned after leaving Ransom’s world, was that you had been ill-equipped to play his game. His game, and by extension, Meg’s game. All the Thrombeys and Drysdales and everyone in-between.
They belonged to a class you couldn’t really understand unless you were making a fucking killing—and graduation was just around the bend, so maybe you would, one day—but you were in the red with 45 grand of student debt and staring down the barrel of a subsequent degree because it was getting hard to make it with just a single bachelor’s in anything.
There was too much to do and not enough time to be jerked around by Ransom—not nearly enough time to feel frustrated about your situation in any sense. No, scraping by taught you to survive. You couldn’t be whisked off to the Caymans for brunch, couldn’t be fucked raw in hotel infinity pools, get lost for days meandering the Pacific on luxury yachts for the fun of it.
Your world was a little more drab, a little less rose-tinted.
So it was back to normal now, back to the grind, back to not wasting any part of your week on shitty dates, shitty sex, and coming home more frustrated than you left it. Because there was Ransom, so eager to make some kind of statement about proving you wrong that he’d be the last to know when he’s being used.
And maybe 4 out of 5 therapists would say that your coping mechanism to a normal sex drive is unhealthy—mind-fucking and regular-fucking your ex/not-ex will do that—but you wouldn’t know. You can’t afford therapy just yet.
You rub your back, patting out the tightness of overworked muscles. It doesn’t feel any worse than the cramp you’d gotten after staying up three nights in a row cramming for finals.
As if your brain has reset, your fingers begin tapping on the keys, and you realize your writer’s block’s been lifted.
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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year
Note
So you know how we previously talked about how I feel about the HC of Ransom calling his s/o ‘kitten’?
I was hoping for a fic based on that where Ransom loves to tease reader by calling her kitten because she gets easily flustered by it and maybe he brings in pet play into the sex so he can REALLY use her weakness against her.
~ Love you honey!! ♥️♥️🥰
hey. I'm sorry if this isn't good and also for it being so short and for taking so long to write it. love you too!
summary - ransom comes home and decides to tease you with your favourite pet name, before taking you to your room to play with his kitten.
warning - smut, creampie, swearing, pet name kitten, daddy kink, aftercare, pet play?
18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips
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Ransom walks into the room, spotting you sitting peacefully on the couch, your focus on the book in your hand. He smirks, feeling the need to be a little shit and tease you. He sneaks up behind you quietly, and once he gets close, he leans down. His breath brushes against your ear. “Hey, Kitten.” He grins when you shiver, your cheeks turning a cherry pink. 
“You jerk!” You turn, slapping his chest softly. Your cheeks are bright, but you smile lovingly at him anyway, “Hey, pretty boy.” You get onto your knees, leaning up and kissing his lips gently. You squeal as he picks you up from over the couch, your legs wrap securely around his waist, core sitting directly over his bulge. “Where are you taking me?” You stare at his handsome face, never wanting to forget the sight before you. Your fingers play with the bottom of his hair.
“I wanna play with my Kitten.” He smirks smugly as a soft whimper escapes you. “You like that, baby? Like when daddy calls you Kitten?” Ransom chuckles, hands gripping your ass in handfuls. “Of course you do. You’re my little Kitten.” When he enters the room, Ransom carefully places you onto the bed before crawling on top of you. “You want to play, Kitten? Want daddy to pet your little pussy?” 
Your eyes widen as you whimper, feeling your knickers dampen at his words. You slowly nod, looking up at him as your legs spread open, your pretty little dress riding up as his hand moves up your thigh. “Please, daddy! I’m your good kitty!” You pout, tears filling your eyes as your cunt throbs, begging to be filled by your daddy.
Ransom quickly rips your knickers off and frees his throbbing member. The sight of his thick leaking tip makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. “It’s okay, Kitten. Daddy’s got you.” His hand strokes your side as the other rubs his cock against your glistening folds. Ransom’s gorgeous blue eyes stare into yours as he pushes in. His cock twitches as he watches your eyes become dazed. “Good girl, you’re doing so good for me.”
Your nails dig into him, and you hold onto him tightly as he thrusts slowly and deeply into you. Every time he utters kitten into your ear with his raspy voice, your cunt clenches around him, and your mind becomes fuzzy. Soft moans fall from your lips with every thrust. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you apart causes your back to arch. “Please! Please, daddy! I wanna cum, please!”
Ransom groans. His balls tighten as you moan. He picks up his pace, thrusting faster into your tight cunt. “Go on, Kitten. Cum for daddy.” He growls as you bite down onto his shoulder, your walls fluttering around him as you cum, pulling the thick member deeper inside you. “Fuck! Fuck, shit! I’m cumming!” His hips jerk, pushing his fat cock further inside you. Ransom buries his face into your neck, biting and sucking as thick spurts of cum shoot from his tip, deep inside your weeping cunt.
After catching his breath, he slowly pulls out and looks at your face. His hand strokes your cheek as Ransom brings you down from your daze. He kisses your forehead softly before getting up, walking into the bathroom and grabbing a soft cloth, making sure to run it under water before walking back into the room and carefully cleaning you up. “It’s okay, Kitten. I’m here. I’ve got you.” After throwing the dirty cloth into the hamper, Ransom crawls into the bed and pulls you flush against his body. 
Your eyes were still slightly cloudy from being passionately fucked. You look up at Ransom and say. “Pretty boy.” The smile from his eyes spread through his lips, and you thought. ‘My pretty boy.’ Your eyes slowly close as Ransom places a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you drift off into a blissful sleep.
“I love you so much, Kitten. Thank you for being in my life and choosing me.” Ransom whispers, a small smile forming before he closes his eyes.
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thank you for reading!
feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
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boxofbonesfic · 10 months
Note
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!
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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
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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
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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
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coltrainbat · 1 year
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Can you write about ransom being interested of fucking his shy wife, reader's big ass.
Good Bunny
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A/N: You said being and not actually doing it so I went off that. Sorry if thats not what you meant at all lol.
Warnings: Mentions of anal, anal sex, rimming - I feel this is obvious. Also first Ransom fic! Yay!
You lay in your silk nightie, face down on the bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone until you felt the mattress sink and a familiar figure appear next you, rubbing their hand up your calves and towards you partly exposed ass.
“Hey bunny.” Ransom eyes were fixated on your lower back.
“My eyes are up here.” You moved your head to the side, smiling at your handsome husband.
He moved to lie on the bed, hand still lightly moving back and forth into your fleshy backside.
“I had an idea bunny.” He looked you in the eyes now, mischievous written all over his face.
“What is it?”
“You know it’s such a waste, having an ass like that and not using it for good.”
“What you mean? I’m always shaking it.” You wiggled your ass a bit for emphasis. Ransom groaned at the ripple that flew through the flesh, he grabbed it lightly and gave it a soft smack being met with a small yelp from you.
“Not that bunny, it’s just that I’ve been lucky enough to fuck 2/3 of your holes and thought maybe we should go 3 for 3..”
Your eyes widened at the suggestion.
“We don’t have to. I’d go slow and if you hated it we’d stop but I know how you like to try new things and-.”
“Would it hurt?” You looked at him, worry on your face.
“Yeah, but so did your first time and now you love it.”
You bite your lip “That’s true.”
Ransom moved closer to you, lying next you and holding out his arm for you to snuggle closer. His hand running down your back, rubbing your ass softly.
“We can start slow.” He purred, pulling you up by your chin to look at him so he could gauge the emotions of your face.
“How does that work?” You were anxious but curious.
“Well, we’d start with my tongue...” The mention of his tongue made you perk up.
“Like I always do.” He chuckled. “And I’d move it lower, run it around your rim.”
“And then when your you’re in doggy and nicely turned on… I’d get the wet stuff from your pretty little pussy and slip in a single finger.” He held up the number one.
“It wouldn’t hurt, you’d love it… you like feeling full don’t you bunny?” You nodded submissively at your handsome husband.
“And then, when you’re really ready, I’d get you a pretty pink buttplug and while you’re all hot, heavy and distracted, I’d slip it in your ass.” You gasped as Ransom.
“I’d give you a little time to adjust and it would only be a little bigger than my finger.” You nodded agreeably, thoughts of buttplugs danced through your head.
“Would it get stuck?” You asked innocently, Ransom’s head threw back in a chuckle.
“No baby it has a stopper, I wouldn’t let that happen… you know why?”
“Why?” A smile was showing now as you were impressed with your ability to make him laugh.
“Because I’d have control of it, slowly pushing it in and out of you.”
“And then what?” You were curious now, moving onto of Ransom so your hands were on either side of his chest, his hand still firmly on your ass.
“And then when you’re about to cum, I’d pull it out with a pop.” He moved his mouth and mimicked the sound of the word for emphasis. “You’d lose your mind bunny.” You lay your head on his chest, gazing up at him, hanging on his every word.
“And then overtime, the buttplugs would get a little bigger and longer each time I fucked you until I think you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“For my cock in your ass.” He said it so casually, the smirk on his face never leaving.
You bite your lip at his salacious comment. Thoughts clouded your head and a wet spot formed in your panties at the thought of Ran filling all your holes.
His digit slowly slides up and down your crack, teasing the hole under the thin strip of fabric.
After that discussion, Ransom’s touches and slaps on your ass became more frequent.
Grabbing a bunch of fat to pull you closer.
Teasing your crack as you were standing and occupied, dragging his finger up and down.
He took you to the sex shop letting you pick out whichever buttplug you wanted, you naturally chose the pink one with a sparkly stopper.
And lube, a whole bottle of anal relaxing lube.
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sgrwrites · 8 months
Text
Pregnant
Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x reader
Warnings: Non-Con, Smut
Words: 199
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Your knees wobbled and shook as you made your way out of the bathroom. You almost stumbled onto the ground and dropped the pregnancy test.
Positive… 
You are pregnant. You are having Ransom’s child…
In the back of your mind, you knew this day would come sooner or later, considering all the time he used your body like a sex doll and refused to at least wear condoms.
You had no idea if Ransom anticipated this, he occasionally got kinky and moaned about breeding you when he was ball deep inside your velvet wall. That didn’t mean he would want to take responsibilities.
One thing you knew for sure was that Harlan wanted his heir to  get hitched and have children. Once the old man heard that you were carrying a Thrombey in your belly, he would go to any lengths to make you marry his grandson.
A life as a wife of your rapist. You could never take that. You didn’t know if you wanted to keep the child, but one thing you knew for sure was that you gotta run away, as far as possible. You had to go somewhere neither Harlan nor Ransom could find you.
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dbnightingale24 · 2 months
Text
First, I want to thank everyone who has read, reblogged, or supported my stories. It means more than I’ll ever be able to put into words, truly. Without you all, I wouldn’t feel confident in launching my Patreon page! I’ll still post fanfics, but I’ll also be taking requests, and posting original stories. I hope you all will follow along, and continue to enjoy my stories! Thank you so much; you’ve given me the confidence I needed to do this. I love you!
Here’s the link if you’d like to follow along:
https://www.patreon.com/user?u=113976020&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator
(It’ll be more official soon!)
@fuckingbye @emerald-evans @autumnrose40 @thickania
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the-queen-of-hell-666 · 6 months
Text
This is Wrong, but It Feels So Right
Kinktober 2023 - Day 2
Pairing: Stepbrother!Ransom Drysdale x Stepsister!Fem!Reader
Kink: Stepcest
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: Your parents are away for whoever knows how long and Ransom decides to blast his music so you go to yell at him but find him in a compromising position.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight d/s vibes, a hint of dubcon (but not really), riding, slight!sub!Ransom, male masterbation), brat!Ransom, yelling, cursing, stepcest, angst, slight fluff
a/n: Here is Day 2 of Kinktober! I'm sorry this is coming later in the day but I had to crochet for my business since I have an event coming up this weekend! Hope you enjoy this fic!
Banners by @vase-of-lilies
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Your dad married your stepmom two months ago and her and her spoiled son, Hugh, or as he liked to be called Ransom, moved into your father’s modest two story townhouse. From the moment they moved in, Ransom had done nothing but complain about the house, the town, and everything that was subpar in his eyes. His stupidly blue eyes with his hard chest that he flaunts around the house and the stupidly hot noises that come from his room at night that made you all hot and bothered and above all frustrated that you had a stupid crush on him. He was a complete asshole to everyone which made you want to choke him out but also made you want to knock him down a peg. 
You two were home alone while your parents were on another vacation paid for by Linda, your stepmother. You were trying to take a nap in your bed when you heard loud music blaring from Ransom’s room making you groan and roll over and cover your head. You banged on the wall trying to get him to hear you but to no avail the music didn’t stop. You climbed out of bed in your boxers and lace bra and stormed out of your room to his room right next to yours. 
You banged on the door and yelled his name but no one answered and you tried the door knob and it was unlocked and you opened it. It swung open and you saw Ransom on his bed slowly stroking his stiff cock on the bed. You stopped for a second but shook it off and stormed in to turn off the music and Ransom spotted you and jumped up with a pillow covering his cock. 
“What the hell are you doing?!” Ransom roared as he saw you turning off his stereo. 
“I’m trying to nap because I have work tonight! But you wouldn’t know about that, would you, you fucking brat?!” You yelled matching his energy and he rolled his eyes. 
“You think you’re so better than me just because you’re miss goody two shoes!” He scoffed and you huffed and crossed your arms. 
“Well, I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth! I know I have to work for what I want! Not just ask mommy!”
“You’re such a bitch!” He growled and that was the last straw of your resolve. 
“I’m so tired of your attitude! Obviously no one taught you a fucking lesson! So I will.” You growled before you jumped on him and kissed him passionately. He froze as you kissed him with your legs wrapped around his waist. You pulled back to look up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you think you’re doing?!” He said outrageously and tossed you on his bed. 
You landed with an “Oof,” and you leaned on your hands, “I’m putting you in your place.” You growled and yanked him down to kiss him again and he fell on top of you. His hands reached out to hold himself up and he pulled back panting. 
“This is wrong.” He huffed as he looked down at you. 
“So? Our parents are never fucking home, they won’t notice. They don’t even notice us now. So why not have some fun?” You smirked as you pulled him closer to you and kissed him deeply.
He hesitated before huffing, “Fuck it. Always wanted to see what’s under these flimsy clothes.” He smirked and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you up against his chest. 
You smirked as your hands slid up his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked him close. “Good man.” You purred against his lips and his hands ripped your bra from your body and leaned down to kiss on the swell of your breasts. You ran your fingers through his hair pulling him close to your chest. He smirked against your skin as his hands ripped off your boxers then wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you two over. You straddled his lap and bit your lip as his hard cock slid in between your folds. 
His hands gripped your waist and pulled you down to grind against his cock making you moan and you yanked him down to kiss him passionately. He groaned against your lips as your soaked cunt dragged along his length. 
“All this for me, babygirl?” He smirked as your juices soaked his length making him groan at the feeling. 
You purred softly, “Mhm. Even though you frustrate the hell out of me, you’re so sexy.” You hummed as you pulled him closer to you and continued to grind against his cock. He growled against your lips and you smirked and shoved him back against the pillows and you reached back to pull his cock up and you slid down on his thick length making you moan out his name. “Fuck, no wonder those girls scream for you.” 
He chuckled as his heavy hands landed on your hips and pulled you further down on his cock. “Maybe you should’ve interrupted sooner.” 
You rolled your eyes before you grasped his wrists and pinned them over his head. “Enough talking. I’m supposed to be taking my frustrations out on you.” You giggled as you started riding him slowly, teasing him as you rode him. “Mm, you’re such a brat but god, if you can’t be generous.” You sighed happily as you sunk down and moved up in a steady movement. The pleasure was toe-curlingly good which made breathy moans leave your lips.
He hummed at your words and gave you a cocky smirk, “I do aim to please.” He purred as he playfully pushed against your hands and you leaned down to kiss him passionately. 
“You’re such a liar but you more than make up for it.” You smirked and pulled up to sit back on his cock taking him even deeper and you started moving faster. “Now enough talking.” You purred as your hands kept his wrists pinned. You moved quicker up and down on his cock letting out moans as your eyes rolled back with pleasure. One hand reached up to cup your breast and play with your nipples as Ransom laid under you, taking the pleasure you gave him. 
He moaned and groaned as your walls squeezed him tight with every movement. Your juices soaking him even more, dripping down his balls making him moan louder. You leaned down to kiss his lips and you released his hands and they immediately went to your ass and helped move your hips up and down. You moaned his name as you felt your orgasm growing in your lower belly, your walls pulsing around him bringing him closer to his own release.
“Fuck, baby, gonna cum. Wanna fill you up. Can I cum in you?” Ransom rambled against your lips with a slight whininess to his tone that made you smirk. 
You sped up your pace riding him faster making him moan louder and he started whining your name as he got close. “Good boy. I knew you’d whine for me. Making all these pretty noises.” You smirked as you felt your release grow closer and you cried out as the tip of his cock slammed into your sweet spot making you see stars. “Fuck, cum for me, baby. Be a good boy and cum in me.” You purred against his lips as you moved faster moaning his name as you reached your peak. You cried out his name as your thighs shook around his hips. Ransom yelled your name as he came hard with you pinning your hips down against him and his warm cum filled you up. 
You let out a contented sigh as you slumped against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and rubbed up and down your back. “You know, I don’t usually go for this cuddly, lovey dovey, crap.” He said as his hands rubbed your back and down to your ass. 
“No shit. I’m the one who has to tell the poor girls you won’t call them back.” You scoffed as you nuzzled under his chin. 
“I mean, that you bring out the soft side in me and it pisses me off and yet I like it.” He sighed as he nuzzled into your hair. 
“Well, get used to it, cause I’m not letting you go.” You hummed as you laid flush against him. 
He chuckled, the sound rumbling his chest, “Good.”
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