#dark ransom drysdale fanfiction

[krirebr]

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

Summary: When you move back in with your parents after a broken engagement, a drunken dare to visit the scary house on the edge of town changes everything for you. Forever.

Warnings: Please note, these warnings are broad to avoid spoilers. Proceed with caution. Horror, psychological horror (including but not limited to: general mind fuckery, memory loss, nightmares) noncon/dubcon, gore, death (see prompt), violence (mostly offscreen), explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), me wildly picking and choosing from hundreds of years of {redacted} mythology, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty All Hallow’s Tropes challenge. My tropes were The house from all the scary stories; Caught trespassing on private property; and A string of unexplained deaths. I had so much fun writing this one. Thanks so much for hosting Navy and Roo!

I tried out a lot of new things here. Horror! Smut! A ridiculous length! I’d really appreciate hearing what you think, so please drop a comment or reblog if you read it. Or come screech at me about this or anything else in my asks! Thank you for reading lovelies!

Driving through your hometown, you were surrounded by fall colors. It was comforting, in its own way. Just as the seasons changed, so could you. You liked the sound of that, of this being a good change. You needed it. You were ready for it.

You pulled off of the main street and drove the few short blocks to your parents' house, parking on the side of the road. The house was something that hadn’t changed, everything exactly as it always had been. Your eyes drifted to the neighbor’s house, a piece of police tape hanging off the front door. Your brow furrowed in concern. You hoped everything was alright.

You grabbed your duffle from the backseat, deciding that you could wait to bring in everything else. Your entire life fit into your small sedan. You tried not to let that make you sad. This was good. Change was good.

You let yourself in with the key you'd had since you were a child. “Mom? Dad? I’m here,” you called into the house. 

Your mom met you in the entryway with a big hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey.” She took a step back to look at you, concern all over your face. “I could kill Andy for what he did to you.”

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“I know, Mom,” you said, softly, both touched by her concern and a little annoyed that she was making you talk about it. You shrugged, “It’s over now.” Trying to change the subject, you asked, “What happened next door?”

Her face fell, “Oh, our poor neighbor died. They found him in the alley behind the American Legion. There was a whole investigation, but the coroner finally concluded that it was anemia.”

“I didn’t know you could die of that,” you said. Wasn’t it fairly controllable?

“I guess you can,” she shrugged, “if it’s bad enough and goes untreated.”

“Oh. Well, he must have been really sick then.”

She shrugged again, “Not that I ever saw, but how much can you ever know about someone you just say hello to at the mailbox? He was a nice young man, though.” She gave you another scrutinizing look, then gently patted your cheek. “Andy never deserved you,” she said and then made her way back down the hall towards the kitchen. “Your dad’s in his den,” she called over her shoulder.

You put your duffle down next to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and moved through the house to find your dad. You found him in his den, sitting on the worn leather couch they’d had your entire life, baseball on the TV. You sat down next to him and he put his arm around you in a half hug. “It’s nice to have you home, sweetheart,” he said, not taking his eyes off the game.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, appreciating the distance he was allowing you. The past month had been so hard. All the concern in everyone’s eyes, since it had all blown up with Andy, had become really difficult to take. You were happy to just sit here and watch baseball with your dad in silence.

At the next commercial break, he asked, “We have you for the whole night, or are you already making plans?”

You smiled. “I’m getting drinks with Tineka and David after dinner.”

“That’ll be nice,” he said. “Make sure you say hi for us.”

You got to the bar a little late. Your mom hadn’t wanted to give you up so easily, even though you’d be living with them and working from their house for the foreseeable future. You’d been to this bar a few times before, the nights before Thanksgiving when you were home from college, and drinking legally was still so novel. But not in ages, maybe a decade. You made your way through the Saturday night crowd, searching for Tineka before you found her set up in a booth in the back with her husband David, and someone you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Tineka climbed over David to tackle you with a hug. “Oh my god! It’s been so long. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You returned the hug a little harder than she probably expected. Longer, too. She pulled back and examined you carefully, concern in her eyes. You just shook your head and smiled. “I’m really happy to see you,” you said.

She beamed back at you and then gestured to the last person at the table. “Look who we ran into!”

“Robbie, hey,” you said with a little wave. Gosh, you hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d been decent friends your senior year and had even gone to Prom together when neither of you had been able to get another date. You’d lost touch when you’d gone away to school, and he’d stayed home to learn the family business.

“We mentioned that we were on our way to see you, and he wanted to tag along!” Tineka enthused, raising her eyebrows at you significantly. You struggled not to roll your eyes at her; it had been the tiniest crush, and that was so many years ago.

“Welcome home,” he said, sliding over to let you onto the bench seat.

You poured yourself a beer from the pitcher on the table, and you all quickly got into all the customary ‘nice to see you again’ questions. Was it weird to be back in town? Did you miss Boston? Did you know this teacher had retired? Or that that store had closed?

The pitchers multiplied, and when you’d lost track of whose turn it was to cover the next one, Tineka leaned forward excitedly, “Oh, here’s some good town gossip! Someone’s moved into the old Thrombey house!”

“What??” you yelled, louder than you meant to. “No way! I don’t believe it.”

“Wait, what’s the Thrombey House?” David asked. He didn’t grow up here with you, only moving here after he and Tineka got engaged, and she decided this was where she wanted to raise a family.

“It’s this old, abandoned house on the edge of town,” she told him. “There used to be this big, rich family that lived there. This was back in, like, the 70s. It was this old, super-rich guy and all his kids and in-laws and everybody. One night, one of his kids–”

“Grandkid,” you interrupted. 

“Yeah, one of his grandkids, he just loses it and sets fire to the house, with everyone inside. They all die, and Hugh Drysdale, the grandkid, just disappears. No one ever sees him again.”

You nod seriously across from her. “And weird shit starts happening on the property. Like animal carcasses thrown onto what’s left of the porch. Or that psychic that went there when we were kids. She said all she felt was pain, and whatever spirits were there had a desperate warning, but she couldn’t get anything beyond that. And then our senior year, that freshman that disappeared around there. And no one’s ever been able to do anything with it. It just stands there, a burnt-out husk. There’s absolutely no way someone’s moved into it.”

Tineka was nodding furiously, but Robbie leaned forward and butted in. “Here’s what actually happened,” he told David. “There was an electrical fire. Everyone died, probably including Hugh.” Tineka took a breath, and Robbie put up his finger to stop her. “They never found his remains because he was burned to a crisp, and there wasn’t enough to identify.” He raised another finger, “It was abandoned long enough that animals moved in and left their prey lying around.” A third finger went up, “All these stupid stories and rumors have made it a beacon for the unwell and scam artists.” Another finger, “That kid disappeared because it’s where all you dumbasses would go to party, and he was drunk and wandered into the woods and got lost or fell or something.” He raised the last finger on his hand, “And whoever’s owned the property over the years probably doesn’t want to be responsible for the cost of demolition, so they’ve just done the bare minimum to keep the city off their backs.”

You turned to look at him, mildly annoyed, “I don’t remember you being this boring in high school.” He just rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever,” you said and turned back toward Tineka. “I still can’t believe someone’s moved in there. They’d have to gut the whole building!”

“All I know,” she said, slurring a bit, “is that someone’s been coming and going, and sometimes there’s a car parked there.”

“What? Have you been staking it out? Says who?”

“People!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then her face lit up dangerously. “I know! We should go out there right now so I can prove it to you!”

You shook your head. “I walked here from my parents’ house, and I,” you placed both hands on the table to steady yourself, “definitely can’t drive.”

“Robbie can!” You could tell, now that Tineka had the idea in her head, she wasn’t going to let it go. “Right? Please, Robbie!” she whined. 

Robbie, who’d switched to water after his second beer, who knows how long ago, looked to David, who shrugged, and then to you. All you could do was grin at him and nod. You hadn’t done something stupid like this in such a long time. The feeling was a little thrilling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Robbie said. “It’s so dark out. You won’t be able to see anything anyway.” He looked around the table again and then slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out there too long.”

Robbie pulled up to the entrance of the lane leading up to the old Thrombey house and parked the car. Tineka leaned forward from her place in the back seat and lightly slapped your arm. “Alright!” she said, “this is where you get out! Good luck.”

“Wait,” you turned to face her, “I’m going on my own?”

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

“When did this become a dare?” you asked, starting to get an uneasy feeling in your gut. “What if I get shot for trespassing?!”

“I thought no one could possibly live there,” she taunted. 

You tried to look to David for help, but he’d fallen asleep next to his wife. Robbie just gave you a shrug. “Fine,” you said, somewhat angrily. “But if I’m not back in 10 minutes, you better come find my body.” You got out of the car, slammed the door closed, and started your walk down the path.

The lane was surrounded by dense trees, and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t see the car behind you. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves in front of you, and you wrapped your cardigan around you as tightly as you could. A few minutes later, the house appeared before you. 

The outside had remained mostly intact, but you knew that it was basically a husk now. Still, it was large and foreboding. Most of the glass in the windows was cracked, and ivy had overtaken much of the siding. As you got closer, you could see that there was, in fact, a vintage beamer tucked against the side of the house. Damn it, Tineka was right. You were about to admit your defeat and go back to your friends when the front door opened. You froze as a man carefully walked out onto the decaying porch.

You could have sworn that a moonbeam suddenly appeared where there wasn’t one before to light him directly. He was dressed in a sweater and slacks underneath a long camel overcoat with a colorful scarf. He looked right at you even though you were sure that the area you were in was too dark to be spotted. “This is private property. You’re trespassing,” he said. Something about his deep voice and insistent stare had you pinned to your spot.

“Um,” you said, trying to look away, but there was something about him that had you transfixed. “Uh, sorry, I just– um, I didn’t think anyone lived here. How– how do you live here?”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow at you. Everything had gone completely quiet. In the moonlight, his skin glowed, looked so pale it was almost translucent, and you felt completely hypnotized. He might have been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

“Sorry,” you said again, or maybe just breathed it. “We were just– we were drunk and–” You didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Why were you here?

He looked you up and down. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Not tonight then.”

“What?” you asked, even though you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than to you.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, grinning a little meanly. “I don’t have much of a taste for cheap booze.”

What a strange thing to say. It’s not like you were inviting him for a drink. What did he mean?

His focus shifted to somewhere behind you, and it was like you suddenly found yourself back on earth. The sounds of the forest filtered back in, and you didn’t feel held in place anymore. As you tried to adjust to the sudden onslaught of your senses, you slowly processed that you could hear Tineka calling for you, and the sounds of Robbie’s car quickly approaching.

“Better run, little rabbit,” the man said. “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”   

You turned around to see the car pull up, and Tineka hopped out without waiting for it to stop fully. “Holy shit, you scared the shit out of us! You didn’t come back! This was so dumb, I’m so sorry.”

You turned back to the house, to say what, you weren’t sure. But the man was gone. Maybe he’d never even been there? Maybe you were even drunker than you thought. “I’m not sure what happened,” you said, in a daze, as you let Tineka and Robbie herd you back into the car.

You were awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door. Your mom let herself in without waiting for a response. She was carrying a large vase filled with roses so deep red, they were practically black. 

“What are those?” you mumbled, barely awake.

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked as she placed them on your dresser. “Someone left them for you.”

“Wha?” It was too early for this. You rolled over to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. Oh. It was 11 AM. Fuck. You didn’t think you’d had that much to drink the night before, but you felt incredibly hungover. This was drinking in your thirties, you guessed. “Is there a card?” You finally mustered the awareness to say. 

“Not that I saw.”

“Then how do you know they’re for me?”

She looked around theatrically. “Who else could they be for? Your father?”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for bringing them in, Mom. I’ll be down in a bit.”

She nodded and left. 

You got up and examined the bouquet. They were beautiful, but… dark. There was something about them that made you feel a little unsettled. The vase looked old. Vintage. Expensive. No card. No sign of where they came from. 

You opened your phone and pulled up the contact you’d made for Robbie the night before. You wrote out the text and hit send before you could think better of it.

Hey, weird question. And please know that I’m embarrassed to even ask it, especially if you say no, but. Did you send me flowers?

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

You cringed and tossed the phone on the bed to create some distance. You hadn’t even been back 24 hours yet. Who could they possibly be from?

Late that night, you were wandering through the grocery store aisles, making your way towards the freezer section. Your mom didn’t keep snacks in the house, and you’d had a sudden craving for ice cream. Just as you were coming up on your prey, someone stepped right in front of you and turned around to face you.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trespasser,” the man from the Thrombey house said. It was startling to see him in the middle of the grocery store. He seemed so out of place, wearing his same overcoat and scarf, which from this distance you could now see was silk. Everything about him seemed expensive, even his smirk, and here you were in yoga pants and a too-large sweatshirt. How did he even recognize you? It’d been so dark that night.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, somewhat bashfully, “sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a cold smirk that you were starting to think was just the permanent state of his face. “I kind of liked the novelty of it. It’s not very often that your kind comes right to me, instead of the other way around.”

What the fuck did that mean? Did he mean not wealthy people? Well, you weren’t the one living in a house that was about to fall down. This man was so strange. “Well, anyway,” you said, “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” You tried to step around him to get to the ice cream case, but he followed you there. 

“What’s your poison?” he asked. You grabbed a carton of Moose Tracks and showed him, before trying to walk away again. 

He kept pace with you. “What’s your name?” he asked.  He stepped in front of you again and looked you right in the eye. “C’mon, tell me your name.”

It fell past your lips without you ever making the conscious decision to tell him. He smiled. All of his smiles were a little mean. “You can call me Ransom,” he said. 

You’d arrived at the self-checkout. You were so ready to get out of there. “Well, okay, Ransom. It was nice meeting you, but I’m gonna check out now. And let you get back to your shopping.” You noticed for the first time that he didn’t have a cart or basket with him. And he wasn’t holding any items in his hands. He could have just gotten there, not started shopping yet, but something in your gut told you it wasn’t right. 

He paused at the opening of the aisle opposite you. “Yeah, I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” he winked, and then turned around and finally walked away.

You tried to suppress the shiver that coursed through you. There was something not right about him. It didn’t matter. He was gone. You paid for your ice cream and walked out the automatic doors–

You were sitting in your car. Something niggled at your brain. You couldn’t remember the walk through the parking lot. That was strange, but you were probably just on autopilot. Plus, you were tired. Exhausted, really. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were. There was a twinge in your neck. You tried to stretch it out but the skin pulled a little painfully. You looked at the clock. It was later than you realized. You needed to get home, eat this ice cream, and go to bed.

That night, you dreamt of a river of blood and you were drowning in it. You woke up choking on nothing.

In the morning, you still felt tired, but you could hear your parents moving around downstairs, so you got up and got dressed. You put on a T-shirt and jeans, a cardigan, and then found an old scarf that you looped around your neck a few times. 

When you got downstairs, your mom was scrambling eggs at the stove, while your dad read the paper at the kitchen table. He smiled and wished you a good morning, then nodded at your chest. “Is that your passive-aggressive way of telling me to turn the heat up?” He laughed at himself.

“Huh?” you asked and looked down. Oh. The scarf. Was it odd? Now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure why you’d put it on. It had just felt… important. You didn’t know why. But you also couldn’t take it off. You curled in on yourself, a bit defensively. “I just liked it with this outfit.” 

Your mom came over to the table. “Leave her alone, you,” she said to your dad as she set a plate of breakfast in front of each of you. “I think it looks nice, honey,” she said to you as she sat down with her own plate. “Although, maybe a little warm. It’s cooling down, but it’s not winter yet.”

You fingered the fringe of the scarf self-consciously. “I just like it,” you said, quietly. It was just a scarf. You didn’t know why everyone cared so much.

Your dad was the one to finally change the subject. He shook out his paper as he asked you, “Didn't you go to school with Shannon McCready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said around a bite of eggs, “She was a real bitch. What? She get arrested or something?” 

Your mom grumbled unhappily next to you about your language, but you barely even noticed because the next thing your dad said was “No, she died a few days ago.”

You couldn’t say what or why, but something inside of you reacted to that. A frisson of fear crawled up your spine. "What?"

"Mhmm, the obituary doesn't say exactly, but it seems like it was sudden."

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!" 

He shrugged again and went back to his paper. Your mom blithely ate her breakfast beside you. You couldn't explain why you were so unnerved by this, but something deep inside of you was screaming that it wasn't right. You took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. You barely even knew her. You needed to get logged into work. Focus on something else.

The workday was long and hard. Your exhaustion only built as the day went on and your mind was all over the place. But you finally made it to the end and triumphantly logged off.

You met Tineka for dinner, just the two of you, at a little place right off Main Street. After you’d gotten settled and your drinks had arrived, she’d looked at you carefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up the other night with David and Robbie there, but how are you doing with everything? Really?”

You sighed. “Uh,” you said, “better than I thought I’d be? I mean, everything feels kind of strange, because I was living this whole life, and I just don’t really have any of it anymore? I mean, I was living in Boston with Andy. We had an apartment, a community. We were gonna get married. And now none of those things are true anymore. None of that is mine. That’s strange. But, maybe not bad. I’m realizing that I was kind of unhappy there. More than kind of. But I couldn’t see it until I was outside of it. And, like, moving back in with my parents, it isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t feel bad right now. If feels OK. If that makes sense.”

Tineka nodded. “I think that makes a lot of sense. And for what it’s worth, Andy was a piece of shit and I’m glad you’re rid of him.” She reached forward, cocktail in hand, to clink your glasses together. All you could do was smile. You really had missed her.

Your seat faced the window, and as you chatted, you watched the sun set over the colorful trees outside. It really was pretty here. This wasn’t a bad place to spend the season. 

As you were finishing your entrees, you frowned when you saw Ransom walk in. He noticed you too, and, waving the hostess away, made a beeline for your table. 

“We just keep running into each other,” he said, once he got to you, that perma-smirk firmly in place. 

"It's a small town," you said, nervously. You couldn't explain why this man triggered your fight-or-flight instincts so terribly. You were being ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything. “Oh, uh, sorry. Ransom, this is my friend Tineka. Tineka, Ransom.” 

Tineka looked between the two of you, open curiosity on her face. “How do you know each other?” she asked.

 “New friends,” Ransom supplied. “We just can’t help bumping into each other.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about where you’d met. That was his business, so you just nodded along.

He stood there for a moment, in a way that was too confident to be awkward, but still had you feeling a little uncomfortable. Tineka, bless her, had the social skills you just couldn’t pull together at that moment. “It’s packed tonight,” she said. “You’re welcome to sit down with us, although we’re probably leaving soon,” she gestured to your nearly empty plates.  

“Thank you,” he said, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He winked at you as he took the empty chair next to you. Something about it, about him, made you have to look away, focusing on your plate.

“So,” Tineka started, and oh no, that was her casual interrogation tone, “are you from around here? This town is small enough that I’m always surprised when I don’t already know someone.”

Ransom chuckled. “Sort of. I used to have family here, but I haven’t been back in ages. Just in town to collect some things and then I’ll probably be on my way again.”

You could feel him looking at you. His attention was always so much.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Tineka said, giving you a sideways glance you knew meant trouble. “We’re only just getting to know you.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I’ve found more here than I expected.” He stretched his arm out and briefly rested it against your chair back. His fingers brushed you between your shoulder blades and you couldn’t help the way you shivered. He dropped his arm back into his lap. When you turned to him, he was looking at Tineka, but you could feel his attention still on you. 

“You said your family’s no longer in the area?” Tineka kept probing.

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “It was no great loss, trust me.” There was a darkness in his eyes when he said that that had you swallowing nervously.

“I guess it’s the season for homecomings,” Tineka said, then pointed at you, “she just moved back too.”

He grinned knowingly at you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she said, pointedly. “Recovering from a shitty ex.”

“Tineka!” you hissed, but all she did was laugh. 

“Well,” he said, working his jaw, and you would swear it almost came out as a growl, “I bet he’ll live to regret that.” You couldn’t explain it, but at that moment, it felt like a threat. Which didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know Andy. He barely knew you. But the most disturbing thing was the little thrill that rushed through you at the thought. 

While you were having your mini-crisis, he stood up abruptly. “You know,” he said, “it really is busy in here. I’m probably better off getting dinner somewhere else. And I’ve intruded on girls’ night enough.” He then looked right at you and said, “I’ll be seeing you.” That, too, felt like a threat.

As he left, Tineka looked at you excitedly. “He’s hot!” she said, too loudly considering he hadn’t actually exited the restaurant yet. You hissed at her, but she batted it away. “And he’s clearly into you. Seems like the perfect opportunity to fuck Andy out of your system.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed and looked to the front to make sure he’d left. “You don’t think there’s something kind of unsettling about him?” 

“What do you mean?”

You paused to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t know, sometimes, just the way he looks at me, I get this chill down my spine.”

She laughed, delightedly. “Yeah, that’s called ‘he wants to fuck you!’ Seriously, this is good. Great, even!”

“I don’t know,” you said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that you just didn’t understand. 

She sobered and looked at you seriously. “Listen, you deserve this. After all that shit Andy put you through – the women. It’s time for you to get yours. I don’t care if it’s Ransom, or Robbie, or whoever, but you deserve this.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s definitely not going to be Robbie.” You couldn’t even imagine that.

“Ok, fine!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Then it should be Ransom!”

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

A little while later, you left the restaurant together. On the sidewalk, Tineka asked, “Did you walk here?” You nodded. “Do you want a ride home?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not far. I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

“Unless this town really changed while I was gone, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I want to walk.”

“Ok,” she said, but she seemed hesitant. 

You rolled your eyes and she backed down. “Hey,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “This was really fun. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said and pulled away, starting to head back to her car. “Think about what I said about Ransom!” she threw over her shoulder.

You laughed and started walking in the opposite direction, back to your parents' house. 

A few blocks later, when you were off the main street, you stopped when you heard a noise behind you–

You were half a block further down now. You looked around, confused. What just happened? How– The pain in your neck was back. It was on the other side now, and worse. You were so tired. A little dizzy. You walked as quickly as you could the rest of the way home.

You dreamt again that night. In this one, you sat in the middle of a large field. The sun shone down on you but you were sobbing uncontrollably. Your tears were made of blood.

You slept through your alarm the next morning, only waking when your mom came in and shook you. You were exhausted still, even though you’d slept a solid nine hours. Maybe you were coming down with something. Even though you had no other symptoms.

You went through your dresser three times until you found your one turtleneck. It seemed important.

Work felt impossible. Your focus was non-existent. You just wanted to lie down. 

Late that afternoon, when Robbie texted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee, you logged out early. You weren’t going to get anything else done anyway. Caffeine sounded helpful.

When you met outside the coffee shop, he asked, “Is coffee still ok? I know it’s getting kind of late in the day. We could do beer instead.”

You shook your head. “No, coffee’s good. I’m trying to cut down on how much I drink.” You stopped. You were? When did you decide that? Why? You shoved down the not-right feeling that was crawling up your throat. It was fine. It was good. Healthy. It was fine.

Robbie raised his eyebrows when you ordered a triple espresso, but didn’t say anything. It helped some, but you still felt sluggish. And you struggled to focus on the conversation. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked after about half an hour.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, trying to shake your head clear. “I’ve just been a little off the past few days. Probably just everything that’s happened catching up with me.”

He nodded. “I heard about all that. I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever need it.”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m fine, really,” you said, “but I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, as you were trying to decide if you’d been there long enough to politely make your excuses and go home, he said, “Oh, do you remember Alex Higgins?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” The name didn’t ring a bell, but you weren’t sure if that was because you didn’t know them or whatever was going on with you.

“He was a few years ahead of us? Friends with my brother?” 

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Well, this won’t mean much to you, then,” he said, “but he died a few days ago.”

Not right not right not right, your gut said. “How… how did he die?” you asked, terrified of the answer without knowing why.

“They don’t know yet. They haven’t been able to find anything wrong with him. They just found him collapsed outside, I guess.”

You white-knuckled it through the rest of your coffee.

Afterward, you lost over half of your walk home. When you arrived, there was another bouquet of almost black roses on your front porch.

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

Over the next week, you kept losing time. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, sometimes even more. Once you started paying attention, you realized it was only after the sun went down. But knowing that didn’t seem to help.

There were more nightmares too. There was the one where you were being chased through the woods by something unseen, under a blood-red moon and the trees came alive to trap you. Or the one where you were back at the Thrombey house and it was on fire. The skies opened up, but instead of rain, the clouds poured down blood. The strangest one had Ransom in it. Blood flowed from his mouth as he choked you with his scarf. They all started to blend together after that. Blood. Pain. Terror. 

Even with the nightmares, you slept like the dead. But that didn’t stop you from waking up exhausted every morning. You called in sick to work multiple days. You stopped seeing Tineka or Robbie. What would have been the point? You couldn’t concentrate on anything. You could barely stay awake. And every time you went for a walk in the evening, to try to get some exercise and clear your head, you lost time. Something was very wrong and you didn’t know what to do.

The one person you did see was Ransom. He often seemed to be out and about at the same time you were. The fear you felt for him was still there, but you couldn’t deny that you were drawn to him, too. When he was near. you could feel the chaos that had taken you over the last week finally quiet down. You still lost time with him, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Nothing seemed to matter as much when you were with him. Even if you still felt the instinctual urge to turn around and run away whenever you saw him.

Compounding your troubles, the roses just kept coming. Every few days, another bouquet appeared on your porch. You still had no idea who was sending them. It had occurred to you that maybe it was Andy, trying to fuck with you. As much as you hated him now, that just didn’t seem like him. But you couldn’t think of anyone else who would do it either. You barely even knew anyone in town anymore.

For a reason you couldn’t articulate, you didn’t say anything about any of this to your parents. You couldn’t hide it from them though. They may not have known exactly what was going on, but they knew there was something. You overheard them one night as you came down the stairs to get a glass of water, their low tones coming from the living room.

“She is not okay,” your dad was saying, “and we need to stop acting like she is.”

“She’s been through a lot,” your mom said. “If she wants space–”

“Look at her!” your dad said, trying to keep his voice quiet, but the emotion still came through. “The time for space is over. I think we need to start talking about professional help.”

As quietly as you could, you ran back up the stairs. You weren’t that thirsty.

You spent the next two days in bed. When your mom came in to check on you, you told her you had the flu.

On the third day, you woke up feeling clear-headed for the first time in ages. You were rested. You hadn’t had any nightmares. The fog seemed to have cleared from your brain. When you bounced downstairs and greeted your parents, the relief on their faces made you want to cry. Your work day was the most productive you’d had since you’d arrived at your parents’ house. You finally felt like things were going to be ok.

That night after dinner, you decided to celebrate your good mood with snacks. You got in your car and started driving to the grocery store.

When you parked, you looked up. You weren’t at the grocery store. You were in front of the Thrombey house. You burst into tears. No no no. How had you gotten here? Why was this happening to you? As you were about to put the car in reverse and go back home, the front door opened and Ransom came out. So instead, you got out of the car.

“Trespassing again?” he asked, that smirk always on his lips. Like there was a joke that only he knew about.

   “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know what’s happening!”

He came down off the porch and walked over to you. He gently brushed a tear off your cheek and looked you in the eye. “Poor little rabb–

You were sitting in your car, parked in front of your parents’ house. The sun was coming up. How? The last thing you remembered, it was evening. It’d been hours. So many hours. The entire night. You let out a frustrated, guttural cry. You checked your phone, certain there must be so many panicked calls and texts from your parents, but there was nothing. Looking further, you found a text from yourself to your mom, telling her that you were spending the night with Tineka. Had you? Was that where you’d been? You thought about calling Tineka to check but one of two things would happen. She’d be confused as to why you couldn’t remember that you’d just left her house. Or, she’d tell you that she hadn’t seen you in days. Both options seemed equally awful and impossible to deal with. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and looked up at the front door. In front of it, was an ornate, vintage vase, filled with roses, so deep red they were practically black. No. Absolutely not. You started your car again and pulled back out onto the road in a flurry. This was one mystery you might actually be able to solve and you were going to do it.

The only dedicated floral shop in town didn’t open for another two hours. That was fine. You could wait. You sat in your car as long as you could stand it, and then when you grew too antsy to bear, you got out and paced in front of the storefront.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you were inside the shop, frantically looking through all of the roses.

“Can I help you?” an employee cautiously asked from behind you. 

You spun around. “I’m looking for black roses.”

“Oh, uh, so, roses don’t actually come in true black. The closest is a really dark red that looks almo–”

“Yes, I know that!” You interrupted. “That’s what I’m looking for!”

“Well,” they said, a professional curtness in their tone now, “we don’t carry them. You’d have to do a special order.”

That was actually good news. It’d narrow down possibilities considerably. “Can you tell me who’s been ordering them?”

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

They took a step back. “We haven’t had anyone order them recently.”

You shook your head wildly, desperation taking over. “No, that’s not true! You’ve been delivering them to my house! I just want to know who’s sending them.”

Another employee came out from the back and eyed you carefully.

“Please,” you said, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “You have to tell me who it is. I have to know.”

“We haven’t had any orders like that,” the first employee said firmly.

“No!” you shouted. “Please just tell me. You have to tell me!”

“Ma’am,” the second employee finally spoke up. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

You stopped and looked around yourself. Another customer had come in. They stood by the door and stared at you. Everyone stared at you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The first employee looked deeply uncomfortable, but the second just folded their arms and gave you a hard look.

“You’re sure?” you asked. “You really haven’t had any special orders?” You felt a few tears fall down your cheeks.

“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, we’ll have to call the cops.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You left as quickly as you could, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

Once outside and away from the floral shop, you found a bench and sunk down on it, trying to pull yourself together. What was happening? What was wrong with you? 

You heard someone across the street call your name and you looked up to see Robbie rushing toward you. He dodged a few cars and then stepped up onto the sidewalk. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You started sobbing at that, unable to hold anything in any longer. He sat down on the bench next to you and tentatively put his hand on your back. He said your name again, softly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I think I’m losing my mind,” you choked out. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He was rubbing gentle circles now. “Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help.”

So you did. You told him about losing time and saying things you didn’t understand, being so tired all the time you could barely get out of bed, the nightmares. He listened quietly to everything and when you were done he just nodded for a moment, then said, “First thing, I think, is that you need to see a doctor.”

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

“Listen, I know it’s scary, but I don’t think this is going to go away on its own. This could be a brain tumor or something. You really need to get it checked out.”

“You’re not listening to me,” you growled out, surprised by how upset you were, and how quickly your mood had changed. “I can’t.”

“Ok,” he said, putting his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m listening. Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t!” you said, standing up. You were jittery. You needed to move.

Robbie reached out a hand, and quietly said your name again, clearly trying to calm you down.

You couldn’t stop shaking your head. “I just can’t, okay? I just can’t. I can’t. I’m not allowed!”

You both froze. “What–” Robbie stopped then tried again, shock clear on his face. “What do you mean you’re not allowed?”

You didn’t know, exactly. You just knew it was true. No doctors. Absolutely not. “I have to go,” you said and turned abruptly to race back to where you’d parked your car. Robbie called after you the whole way.

Your phone buzzed at you the whole drive home. Robbie. He wouldn’t stop. It continued all day. He was worried about you, his texts and voicemails told you. What you said had really freaked him out. Was someone hurting you? He just wanted to help. You hid in your bedroom and buried your phone in your laundry hamper. You could still hear it buzzing away, but it made it easier to pretend that you couldn’t. Finally, sometime after dark, it stopped.

It started ringing again in the morning, just as insistent as before. You dug it out of your dirty clothes, ready to tell Robbie to just forget what happened and leave you alone when you saw that it was Tineka, and she was calling for the third time.

When you answered, at first you just heard her crying. “Tineka?” you asked. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Robbie,” she sobbed, and for a moment you thought maybe he’d talked to her, told her who knows what, but then she continued. “Oh god, Robbie. Robbie’s dead.”

A chill whipped through your entire body. “What?” you breathed. Just yesterday– No. Your mind went to all the people you’d heard about since you’d gotten here. The vague reasons, the shrugs given as cause of death. A pattern you’d refused to see until this moment. You had to know if he was part of it. “Tineka, how did he die?”

“Oh god,” she sobbed, “It’s so awful. I can’t– His throat. It was ripped out.”

You felt time stop. Distantly, you could hear Tineka still talking. Going on about animal attacks, coyotes and bobcats, maybe something escaped from a sanctuary or private owner. You couldn’t explain it, you didn’t know why – you obviously didn’t know anything – but you knew deep down in your being that this was because of you. Something was happening.

Without saying anything, you ended the call and left your phone on your bed. You didn’t get dressed, still in the leggings and oversized t-shirt you always slept in. You moved through the house as quickly and quietly as you could, not bothering to stop to look for your parents. The only things you grabbed on your way out were your coat and your car keys. 

As you started driving away, you didn't really have a destination in mind, but once you were about halfway there, you realized that you did in fact know where you were going now. Of course, you did. There was only one place to go. One person to see.

As you pulled up in front of the Thrombey house, it struck you that you’d never seen it in daylight before. The way the sun shone down on it almost made it more eerie. It should not be here, in this daylight world. It was a relic of the night. You shook your head at yourself. Your thoughts had become so strange lately.

You waited in your car. He always heard you and came out, but this time, nothing. You looked to the little driveway at the side. The beamer was there. So where was Ransom? After several minutes of waiting, you got out. You went up to the house, ready to pound on the door until he came out, but stopped at the porch. You could clearly see now how the wood was rotting, the holes that were already there. You couldn’t risk taking a single step onto it. You didn’t know how he came in and out this way.

You looked around, there must be another way in, maybe on the side of the house. As you walked around the corner, you came up short. Lining this side of the house, hidden from the front, was a beautiful, neat row of rose bushes, in such a deep red they were practically black. No. No no no. It couldn’t be. But of course, it was. You were so stupid. So blind. You fell to your knees beside them. It had all started here, at this house. You could clearly see that now, finally. Whatever end came, that would be here too, so you laid down, and you waited. There was nothing else to do.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You were pretty sure you’d dozed in and out. But at some point, the sun had gone down. Once it was fully hidden beneath the horizon, you heard the front door open and footsteps come around the side of the house.

Ransom crouched down next to your head, his hand gently brushing the hair out of your face. “So you know now,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but you still shook your head. “No,” you said. “I don’t know anything. I don’t understand.”

He nodded and stood up. You sat up, almost like there was a string in your chest, connected to his. “You know,” he said, looking up at the house. “Ransom is my middle name. I’ve always gone by it, but when they reported on everything that happened here, they used my first name, so that’s the one everyone remembers.”

Of course. “Hugh,” you breathed. “You’re Hugh Drysdale.” You were as sure of it as you’d ever been of anything. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. He nodded, pleased. “How?” you asked. Hugh had been roughly your age when the fire had happened and he’d disappeared. Almost 50 years ago. The man standing in front of you didn’t look a day over 35.

He crouched down again, so that he was level with you, so that you could clearly see his face in the moonlight. So that you had a perfect view of the fangs that dropped down.

You gasped, wanting to scoot away on your hands, but you stayed pinned in your spot. “No, that’s not– You can’t–” You took a deep breath and gave yourself the courage to say the word. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He threw his head back and laughed. It was wild and loud and cruel. “Come on now,” he said, “I know you aren’t that stupid, sweetheart.”

As you tried to process this, you realized it didn’t actually matter how any of this could be real. There was only one question you actually needed an answer to. “Why did you do this to me?” 

He grinned at you, mean as ever. “Because you came right to me, little rabbit. How could I resist an offering like that?” Tears started to run down your face, and he cooed at you, collecting a few with his finger. “I’ll admit, at first, I’d just planned to drain you, leave your body beside the grocery store for some teenage employee to find the next day.” He smiled at the thought. “But that first taste. You have no idea how good you taste, baby. It couldn’t just be a one-and-done. It was as easy as anything to put you under a little thrall. Compel you to forget when I fed on you, make sure you didn’t let anyone else know. The plan was to snack on you while I was here, and once I had everything I needed, I’d bring you with me, keep you as a little pet blood bag until I was bored and done with you. And torturing you was so fun. It made having to be here so much more bearable. But as I broke you down, brought you to your weakest, it made me realize that I’m desperate to see you at your strongest. See you surging with power.”

There was something in his words, in his eyes, that filled you with panic. But also something else. Want, you were terrified to admit. “What does that mean?” you whispered.

“It means you’re mine, baby, and I’m going to keep you. Claim you. Forever.”

It was the last word you fixated on. That was the word that meant everything. That really said what he meant. You took a deep breath, trying to get the crying under control. “And if I let you do that, this will all stop? I’ll be ok again?”

He chuckled. “Sure, honey. If you ‘let’ me do it, it’ll all stop. You’ll get your mind back. The thrall will lift.”

“And if I don’t?”

He tilted his head to the side. “If you don’t, you’ll still be mine. I’ll just make it hurt. Your friend Tineka sure has a pretty neck. Maybe I’ll rip it out, just like I did to your other little friend. Or your parents. Blood is kind of like wine, you know, gets better with age.”

“No, no, please,” you begged.

“Then give yourself to me, right now.” He leaned forward into your space and you fought the dual urges to pull away and to close the distance completely.

You took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. Your torment would stop. Things would be better. Your family would be safe. “Okay,” you whispered, “please. Please, Ransom.”

Without further ado, he pulled you into a bruising kiss, both hands tightly gripping your face, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He gave you no choice but to sink into it, his fangs still dropped, occasionally nipping into your lips. When he pulled away, you were left gasping for breath. 

You had no time to recover before he was pushing back on your shoulders and then slipping his hands under your knees to tip you onto your back. You held yourself up, as much as you could, on your forearms, unable to look away from him. Mesmerized by him, as always. He pulled on your leggings until they ripped in two and tossed them away. He crawled between your knees and then did the same to your panties. You cried out at the sting of the elastic breaking. He smoothed a hand over you, fingers moving through the thatch of soft curls, and growled “Just perfect.” Then he lowered his face to your cunt and slowly dragged his tongue along the length of it. You finally gave in and let your upper body fall back, tossing your head to the side, your hands grasping for purchase in the dry grass beneath you, as he worked you over with his mouth. Little mewls escaped you, beyond your control. You wanted to deny how good it felt; he was a literal monster. He had killed countless people. His own family, in this exact spot where he now defiled you. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth on you, the rising heat in your core, the grass under your hands, the twigs poking into your back. The one thing outside of this exact moment that your brain briefly flashed to was Andy. How he had never felt like this. Never given you this. In his own way, he too, had wanted to drain you dry and then he’d left you with nothing to show for it. His promise of forever had turned out to be empty. With Ransom, you knew that word meant something different. Meant something more. Something real.

Your mewls had turned into soft little chants of “Please,” and “Ransom,” over and over. As you reached your peak and were just about to go over it, he removed his mouth from you. You cried out in frustration and lifted your head just in time to see him turn his and sink his teeth into your thigh. You screamed at the pain. The way it mingled with the intense pleasure you were already experiencing, along with the constant fear you’d been in for the past weeks had you hurtling over the edge. You came harder than you ever had before, your body spasming through it, tears rushing down your face, wetness pooling between your legs. Ransom drank from you all through your orgasm and the aftershocks. As you were finally coming down, he released your thigh, quickly licking up the blood that had dripped down your leg. He reached up to your face and grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact as he viciously bit into his own wrist. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, grasping it firmly, and then pushed his bloody wrist into your mouth. You flailed, instinctively trying to get away, but his hard grip wouldn’t let you move. You choked as his blood filled your mouth. Your eyes were wide, hands wildly trying to release his hold on you.

“Just drink,” his voice filled your consciousness. “Drink. Take it all, sweetheart.” At some point, your body gave in, no longer struggling, trying to dislodge him. You took what he gave you and swallowed. “Good girl,” he cooed as you continued to drink. “Good girl.” You grasped his wrist, latching on with your mouth, suddenly desperate for more. Blackness was gathering at the edges of your vision. It started gradually and then quickly overtook you. The last thing you heard before you slipped into the darkness was Ransom’s chuckle.

You gasped for breath as you rocketed up to a sitting position. You could hear everything. The birds on the roof of the house. The wind moving in the trees. The ants in the ground beneath you. You could feel everything. The hair on your arms, standing straight up. The grass growing in the ground. The electricity in the air. The one thing you couldn’t feel was your blood flowing through your veins. It was still. You knew it was. But something was pumping through you. Power. You gasped again to feel it. You could do anything now. You were sure of it. You’d been so weak before. But now. Now nothing could beat you. With that power was also the most intense hunger you’d ever felt. You needed something, right now. You needed everything. You needed to feed, you needed to fuck, you needed to drink.

A familiar chuckle interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Ransom standing above you. That mean smirk that was always on his face. “Oh little rabbit,” he said, “we are going to have so much fun.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, there's a follow-up! 💜

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

#ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark fic #knives out #ransom drysdale #horror fiction #chris evans fanfiction #navy and roo's sleepover #kris wrote something #fanfic #we are vain & we are blind

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

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

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

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

Word Count: 3,776

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

It’s your wedding day, again. 

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

  I don’t want to get married. 

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

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

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

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

  My wife.

  MY  WIFE.

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

  God, the party. 

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

  Tell him. Tell me what he says. 

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

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

  No one does. 

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

  You see… a beach. 

  An empty beach. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunch in an hour.” 

—

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

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

  Fuck you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Leave me alone.”

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

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the fucking baby.

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

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

  He doesn’t pick it up. 

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

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

  —

  They don’t come back that night.

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

  I wonder what Nat’s doing. 

  I wonder if they’re worried about me.

  I wonder what Ransom told them.

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

  When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

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

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

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

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

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

  We made it for you.

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

  It was more than a little crush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Please.” 

  You lay there until the room goes dark. 

  —

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

next chapter

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

#chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #cevans #cevans fandom #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #Lloyd Hansen #Lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen imagine #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #lloyd hansen smut #dark!fic #darkfic #dubcon #boxofbonesfic #doppelganger fic

[navybrat817]

Temporary Job

Pairing: Soft!Dark Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

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

Word Count: 250

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist ⚓ Ransom Drysdale Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #tbswritingchallenge #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x f!reader #ransom drysdale x female!reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #soft!dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #soft!dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fanfic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

[babyjakes]

darling dangers.

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

event | kinktober 2022

prompt | vibrator

pairings | mean!dark!best friend!ransom drysdale and soft!dark!best friend!jake jensen x innocent!reader

warnings | non/dub-con (reader is reluctant and resistant.) ran and jake are absolutely taking advantage of reader. ran is an asshole, jake is a little better. heavy humiliation, babying, dumbification, mocking and degradation. crying kink. ransom holds reader down. pussy slapping. forced fingering and use of vibrator. heavy clit focus. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. jake is doing most of the work, ransom's just there to be mean lol.

word count | 2,312

an | um oh my godddddd, ,,, this idea has been swirling around in my brain for so long and finally, finally i get to bring it to fruition >:-)) welcome to kinktober, whores <333 also sorry if this one feels awkward or rusty? i've been writing whump for the past month so getting back into the filth felt a little clumsy :-((

As soon as you see the small black box sitting out in the open on the counter between your two best friends, both of their faces drawn in expectant expressions as they stand just waiting for you to walk in on the perfect scene they've orchestrated- you know you're in deep, deep trouble.

Ransom's crossing his arms, a small smirk forming on his face when he sees how wide your eyes have gone. Jake's giving off more disappointment than amusement, which honestly hits deeper than the twisted pleasure his counterpart's apparently finding in the whole ordeal. Gulping as you take a step forward into the kitchen, your voice betrays you by trembling as you dare to speak up. "R-Ran? Jakey? What's going on?"

"You know, it's funny, princess. We've been wondering the same thing," Ransom jests as he places a steady hand on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he pauses to glance at the blonde standing beside him. "Right, J? We never would've imagined our precious little angel- our sweet, innocent y/n- turning out to be such a whore."

Tears prickle in your eyes at the remark; bottom lip puffing out slightly in a pathetic frown, you shake your head in defense. "N-no, don't say that. S'not true."

"Aww, look at her, Jake. Think she's gonna cry already. Go on then, sweetheart. Know you can't help it, you've always been such a sensitive little thing."

Brow stiffening in anger, you glare at the brown-haired boy. "Stop it," you whisper through your hurt and confusion. Why are they doing this to you? They're your best friends, your Ran and Jakey. What would ever drive them to humiliate you like this? You would've never seen it coming. "Wh-why were you going through my mail, anyway? You have no right."

"Well, it helped that we were expecting the package," Jake finally breaks his silence, letting out a small sigh as he crosses his own arms. "An email popped up about your order status while I was helping you fix your phone last week. Couldn't believe it, our sweet y/n, ordering from a site like that. But it looks like there was no mistake here." Turning slightly, he reaches out to pick up the little box with a single hand. Eyeing the picture on the lid, his disappointment only seems to grow as he looks back at you, "Buggy, d'you even know what these are made for? You have no business buyin' something like this; you're much too little, y/n."

Cheeks burning at your friend's patronizing words, your eyes narrow further. "Of course I know what they're made for, Jake. I... I'm not stupid, I'm a big girl. I can order whatever the hell I want," you shot back.

At that, Ransom chuckles as Jake can only manage to shake his head in further disappointment. "A big girl, huh? We'll see about that, babycakes."

Everything happens so fast, you're barely able to process it. Before you know it, the pair have whisked you away to your bedroom, Ransom laughing cruelly as he carries you over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, they have you surrounded on the plush duvet of your queen-sized bed, the brunette coming up behind you to trap you in his arms. As he leans back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, he brings you with him, pressing your back up against his broad chest as you squirm in haste. Jake approaches the two of you on his knees, the box with your new toy still clasped in his hand. Writhing a bit as Ransom tightens his grip on you, you finally find your voice. "What the fuck-? Let go of me, let me go! What are you doing? This is-"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jake tells you sadly as your other friend eventually gets a good enough hold on you to overpower your resistance. "This is for your own good, y/n. You need'ta learn not to mess around with these things. It's not safe for a little girl like you."

"Learn? What do you mean?" you cry as Ransom's large hands come up to pry your knees apart, using his own strong legs to hold you open. As soon as you feel the cool air of the apartment hitting the thin layer of fabric covering your delicate mound, you freeze. Peering down with wide eyes, you see that your little tennis skirt has flipped up in the most unfortunate of ways, leaving your lacy pink panties on full display for everyone in the room's viewing pleasure. Heart pounding heavily in your chest, you clear your throat.

"R-Ran, Jakey... please..."

"We're not gonna hurt you, baby. Just gonna show you how dangerous these things can be, that's all. You're safe," Jake hums as he lays down on his tummy before you, scooting up between your widespread legs to come almost face-to-face with your now quivering core.

"Pink lace," Ransom snorts from behind you as his hands rest greedily on your inner thighs. "She really is a little slut, isn't she, J?"

Tears pool in your eyes as your cheeks burn in embarrassment. "P-please, please don't look," you beg, your tears earning a sympathetic frown from the blonde beneath you as he reaches out to run a tender hand over the lace of your panties.

"We're gonna be doin' a whole lot more than lookin', sweet thing," he admits as his fingers press against your dampness. "And would you look at that, someone's already gettin' wet." Squeezing out a few more tears as the man prods at your thinly-covered heat, you can only whimper in response.

"Doesn't surprise me. Bet she likes us being all rough, holding her down and spreading her open. You like that, sweetheart?" Ransom teases as he brings a hand up to cup one of your breasts over the flimsy yellow tank top you're wearing. "Never wears a bra around us, either. She's just asking to be played with." At the feeling of his cool hand slipping under your top to search for your beaded nipple, you cry out, straining against his wicked hold- but it's no use. Compared to Jake and Ransom, you're nothing in terms of size or strength. And now that they've got you where they want you, you're completely at their mercy. And you're not sure how much you can trust their promise of safety, not after all they've just done to you.

The meaner of the two laughs darkly as he finds one of the little knots of flesh, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as you cry softly to yourself. "Responsive little thing, isn't she?" he marvels as Jake takes to dealing with your panties; for a moment, he pushes them aside, but then after a few seconds of rethinking, he instead just decides to simply take the thin strip of fabric in his hands, pulling harshly until the band snaps apart completely.

"There we go," he murmurs as his eyes settle down on your dripping folds. "Such a pretty little pussy you've got, sunshine. It's a shame you didn't decide to share sooner."

Looking down over your shoulder to take his own peek, Ransom groans at the sight of your untouched petals. "Fuck, y/n. You've been keeping that all to yourself? Bet no one's ever done anything like this to you before. This your first time, princess?" Your words only continue to fail you as you lower your head in shame, your response giving the two boys all the answers they need. "Well too bad it has to be wasted on a punishment. Dumb little girl thought she could order a big girl toy- these things aren't made for you, baby. You're gonna realize that very quickly."

Pulling his hands away to fiddle with the box, Jake takes his time removing the little blue bullet from its packaging. The friends were smart enough to make sure to charge it before their little ambush, meaning they now have the benefit of its full battery life to spend on teaching you your little lesson. "Here it is," Jake hums, clicking it on carefully to the lowest speed. "Now sweetheart, I'm gonna give you one chance to get yourself outta this," he bargains.

That catches your attention. Raising your weary gaze to meet the blonde's soft set of eyes, you nod reluctantly. "I want you to show me and Ran exactly what you were gonna do with this thing. Want you to use it just like how you were planning when you bought it. And if you're honest with me- with us, and show us everything it was gonna do for you, we'll let you go."

Blinking, you take a moment to think. It's a good offer, you will admit, and he even seems genuine about keeping his end of the deal if you follow through with it. But there's a part of you that just can't bear the thought of demonstrating the crude acts you were intending on performing with the toy, at least not to your two best friends in the entire world. He left it unsaid, but it was implied: Jake wants you to make yourself cum for them. And you just can't do it, you know you can't. So you decide to do the only other thing you can think of: play stupid and pray they buy it.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. Shifting a little, Ransom releases one of your hands, still holding your breast hostage beneath his fingers, almost as an impending threat. Watching you carefully, Jake hands you the buzzing bullet, the strength of the toy's vibrations causing your hand to tingle ticklishly as you suck in a deep breath.

"Go ahead, cutie. Show us," Jake encourages.

Trying to keep your hand from shaking, you brace yourself as you bring the object down between your legs, searching a little to find your glistening hole. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push in, letting the low rumble of the vibrator settle into your core.

"Alright, that's enough," Ransom snaps, causing you to jump as Jake rips the toy from your heat and grasp. "Stupid fucking baby, that was a big mistake. Are you really too dumb to know where it goes? Or do you just want us to punish you?"

Shaking his head in disappointment, Jake sighs heavily. "Good girls don't lie, y/n," he states harshly as Ransom resecures both of your arms down against your back before reaching between your legs to land a few forceful slaps against your bare pussy.

You sob at the sting, gasping as his hand comes up to pull back the hood of your clit. "Give it to her, she was asking for it," he nods to Jake.

Turning up the toy a few clicks, the blonde focuses in his gaze on your little bundle of nerves as he gently collects some of your wetness on the twitching head of the tool before easing it up against your button, earning a strained gasp from you as your whole world's set on fire. The burning is unlike anything you've ever experienced, heat blooming in your core as you burst into more tears at the sensation. Shaking his head knowingly, Jake's voice is full of disappointment as he chastises you, "I gave you a chance, y/n, but you either lied to me, or you're just way dumber than I ever imagined."

"Look at all those tears," Ransom all but moans as he twists and pulls at your nipple, grinding subtly into your back as he holds you down for Jake's torment. "Keep it right on the head, pal- don't cut her any slack. What's the matter, sweetheart- huh? That too much for you? I thought you were a big girl who could handle big girl toys. Of course you're not," he laughs darkly, only egged on by the feeling of you writhing against him, "you're just a stupid little baby who needs to be taught a lesson."

"Think she's learning pretty quick," Jake comments as he practically drools at the sight of your wetness leaking out onto the bed beneath you. Using his free hand, he gently eases a finger into you, curling up gently to rub at your soft, spongey ceiling as your eyes roll back in horrific pain and pleasure.

"Please, please..." you're reduced to mere sobs as you feel the pressure of your orgasm building up more and more in your tummy. "Please, n-no-... wait-... stop-..."

"There it is. C'mon, baby. Cum for us, it's okay," Jake coos as he twirls the head of the bullet over your swollen clit. "That's it, there you go," he sighs with a small smile as you're forced over the edge, your back arching painfully as you squirt out onto his waiting hands.

"Fuck," Ransom curses from behind you, his cock bulging needily at the sight of you being forced to cum. "She's a fucking squirter, would'ya look at that. Better than anything I was dreaming of," he groans as your little toes twitch from the overstimulation, your sobs growing louder as you come down from your high.

"P-please, please, no more!" you hiccup, the continued vibrations against your now engorged button enough to bring you to your knees.

"You think she's learned her lesson, Ran?" Jake asks doubtfully, already knowing what the answer will be as he stretches you open to add a second finger before turning up the bullet another few notches.

"No, I don't think we're anywhere near finished," the brunette responds cruelly as he slaps his hand down a few times against your throbbing heat before pulling back on your lips again to spread you out once more. "She needs at least one more, maybe two. Gotta really show her how dangerous that little thing can be."

#eun's writing #darling dangers #kinktober 2022 #ransom drysdale smut #jake jensen smut #jake jensen #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #jake jensen fanfiction #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!jake jensen #chris evans #chris evans smut #jake jensen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #jake jensen one shot #jake jensen imagine #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale imagine

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉

I thank @royalsweetteaa for coming up with this and putting the idea into my head, and I hope you all enjoy it.

summary - you shouldn't have gone for a swim that day, especially when a giant merman is lurking for a little human to breed and keep.

warning - smut, dubcon, inter-species, slight drowning, slight somno, breeding kink, dirty talk, slightly dark, slight kidnapping.

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

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

You arrived at the beach, and headed over to the sand, finding a secluded, comfortable spot to place your things before stripping from your clothes, revealing a small green bikini with tiny white flowers. You overlook the half-man, half-fish in the water, watching you strip and stretch, smirking as you head toward the cold, salty water, closer to the danger that lurks beneath the water. You merge into the water, slowly walking in and deeper. You let out a deep sigh as you dunk your head under and come back up, feeling refreshed.

You feel your body relax, floating on your back as you bask in the sun, enjoying the fresh water crashing softly against your tiny form. Your eyes are closed, and you aren’t aware of your surroundings. A squeak escapes you as you are suddenly pulled under. You are too busy struggling from the lack of air and the sudden fear that you don’t notice your bikini bottoms being yanked off. Once you’ve managed to get your bearings, you quickly swim back to the top, gasping for air as you look around, frightened, fearing a shark has grabbed you. Not knowing there is much worse lurking beyond the waters, as you try and keep yourself afloat, your legs rub together, and you feel you no longer wear your bikini bottoms. Your brows are furrowed as you look around and wonder. Your gaze lands on the piece of clothing floating a few metres ahead of you. Confused and curious, you swim out to grab them, not wanting to leave the water naked from the bottom below. 

When your hand grabs the flimsy material, you shriek as you feel something brush up against your legs. You clutch your bottoms to your chest, freaking as you look around, finally noticing how dark and cold the ocean actually looked and how lonely you really were. No one was on the beach or in the water. You were alone and probably close to death. You don’t see the merman beneath you, staring at your core with a smirk as he feels his cock harden. Ransom licked his lips and swam closer, wrapping his large webbed hands around your legs and yanking you underneath the water. 

The water swallows your scream, and your eyes sting from being open in the salty water. You stare wide-eyed at the giant man-like thing, gasping as you begin to swallow water, freaking out. Ransom huffs, rolling his eyes as he brings you back to the surface, annoyed as you cough and make a scene trying to breathe. As you huff and fill your lungs with as much oxygen as you can, a squeal escapes you, feeling something large and ribbed rubbing against your lips. You take a deep breath as your yanked back under the water, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you are impaled by something. 

Ransom groans, holding you down against him by your hips, thrusting deep and hard inside your tight cunt. “You’re such a whore, going for a swim in slutty clothes and getting fucked by a merman.” He smirks, knowing you can’t understand him, but he loves to watch you struggle against his throbbing member. His long, dark blue, scaly tail swishes behind him as he pounds into you, holding you tightly against him as he glares down at you with his pretty blue eyes. “You like being stretched out by my cock? Barely being able to breathe as I pound into you?” His hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, limiting your breath even more than before, grunting as he feels you squeezing him.

You feel intense pleasure coming from your lower half and pain coming from your chest as you struggle to breathe. His large hand gripped your hips as the other cut off your airflow. Your vision was becoming black as he kept you both under the water, his hardened member plunging deeper and harder inside you. You gasp as he finally lifts you above water, oxygen entering and filling your lungs as he pounds into you, holding you close to his chiselled body.

You take a deep breath before he pulls you back under, taking you apart. Your eyes screw shut with the pleasure his ribbed cock gives you, reaching the deepest parts of you that no man has ever reached. The member is curved, hitting your g-spot perfectly, your back arched, and you don’t notice him smirking at you or his slitted eyes staring down at your exposed neck. You feel your chest constricting as you run out of air, your head becomes fuzzy, and your cunt clenches around his enormous cock. 

Ransom grins, showing off his sharp teeth. He watches you begin to run out of air, feeling your walls go crazy around his cock as he leans down and bites into your neck. No one can hear your screams before you pass out from the lack of oxygen and the intense pleasure. Ransom grunts, and you clench tightly around him, causing his cock to sink deeper inside of you. His balls tighten as he begins to twitch wildly. His hands grip your body, pulling you tighter against him, releasing his thick cum into you, thrusting until he feels you spasm around him, your juices squirting out and entering the ocean. Ransom grins darkly, swimming to the surface, not waiting for you to wake or catch your breath as he takes you to his cave. He rests you above a rock and strokes your cheek. “You’re mine now, forever, little human. I hope you’re ready to carry my children.” He chuckles, slowly moving into the shadows as he watches you begin to wake. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale angst #dark ransom drysdale #merman ransom drysdale #merman ransom drysdale x human reader #ransom drysdale one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character #chris evans characters #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom

[royalsweetteaa]

Ransom Drysdale

Masterlist

Series

Good intent - dark!Ransom Drysdale x homeless!reader

Ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | (complete)

Summary: Ransom is going through a mid-life crisis where he’s miserable and he wants to change things up to make his daily life more interesting. The change involves taking the freedom of someone who he deems is beneath societal suitability.

One-shots

Hearts behind bars - inmate!Ransom Drysdale x prison psychologist!reader

Summary: Your new job as a psychologist at a men’s prison goes better than you first excepted. All of your clients are well behaved, - particularly one gentleman being the infamous murderer of his grandfather’s housekeeper - Ransom Drysdale. The two of you become a little too fond of each other, and Ransom catches feelings for you. How do you manage this forbidden relationship?

Misreaders - soft!Ransom Drysdale x gf!reader

Summary: You deny Ransom physical affection you used to give him all the time after overhearing him complaining on the phone about how clingy and annoying he finds you.

Sweet red velvet - soft!Ransom Drysdale x menstruating!reader

Summary: You go through your period for the first time in yours and Ransom’s relationship.

Capital of needs - bratty!soft!Ransom Drysdale x housemaid!reader

Summary: You’re Ransom’s housemaid and you get to learn more about the trust fund manchild from a different perspective as you earn a place in his heart.

Short-shots

Love in the makings - soft!Ransom Drysdale x gf!reader

Summary: Ransom is feeling extra soft and passionate one morning.

Addicted to your voice - Ransom Drysdale x gf!reader

Summary: Ransom is horny and seeks reader for relief virtually.

A little help - Dark!Best friend!Ransom Drysdale x naive!innocent!reader

Summary: Ransom decides to use his best friend’s naivety and innocence when he can’t hold himself back from desiring her anymore.

Keep calm - soft!Ransom Drysdale x PTSD!reader

Summary: Reader goes through yet another PTSD trigger late at night, and Ransom has to handle it.

Inevitable ends - Ransom Drysdale x reader

Summary: You finally break away from Ransom’s clutches.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans #ransom drysdale masterlist #masterlist #soft ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #dark ransom drysdale #chris evans x reader #chris evans character fanfiction

[deliciousangelfestival]

Every Time You Lie - Ch 6 || Lloyd Hansen

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 🥹💓

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."

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."

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.

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?"

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!

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Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

@ladyvenera

@pattiemac1

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi 🥹💓

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom x y/n #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x female reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Up All Night 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn't serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You rub your cheek as you check the time in the corner of the screen. You should’ve been gone an hour ago, you should have your bottle of shiraz and your episode of housewives to keep you company. You don’t know why you expected that, nothing ever goes to schedule, not with your boss.

You sigh at his empty office. You haven’t seen him for two days. He has an automatic reply that he’s ‘working remotely’. You know Mr. Drysdale well enough. He doesn’t work outside the office, he barely does anything at the office.

You go back to the PDF, your red notes in the margin of the manuscript. Big meeting tomorrow. Hopefully your boss got that message. You can only imagine what would happen if a publishing house missed their introductory conference with a major writer. That could mean thousands, if not millions, in losses. Somehow, you suspect you won’t have to imagine.

You finish the chapter and press your finger to your phone. It lights up but you don’t have anything more than the several reminders you set for yourself and automated notifications from apps you never use. Drysdale…

His last name rolls from your throat without meaning too. Something about him just irks you to the bone. Maybe it’s envy, or at very least, resent. You’ve worked all these years in the publishing business to become an assistant, all while he was born into his editor’s chair.

Another bubble pops up. You’re not the social media type. You never got much into it. Your generation came a bit too early for that, but you’ve found with men like Drysdale, narcissists really, it is a great tool.

You tap the notification and it opens the story. There he is, taking a shot with a pair of statuesque twins. Not the best look for an editor, on that night, of all nights. 

You clamp your lips shut and flare your nostrils. Right. You close your laptop as you see Eugene making his sweep. Once security pops up, you know you’ve got to go. You pack up your things and say hello to the man in the blue uniform on your way out. He knows you by name too.

You shift your glasses on your nose, the little rubber pieces starting to squeeze your bridge. You come out the front of the building and make your way to the only car left in the lot. You throw your bag in the back and drop into the front seat.

No wine for you. You’ll have to stream the episode when it comes out on Prime. You set a new alarm for the morning, early enough for you to make sure Mr. Drysdale meets his obligations.

📗

As expected, you don’t have a single call from Drysdale. You’ve left several messages since your alarm blared and broke through your four hours of sleep. You see his last activity on Insta from three in the morning and you want to throttle your own phone. This isn’t good.

You have only enough time to get yourself ready. Your morning routine of a perfectly portioned breakfast and precisely brewed dark roast is nixed. You get in your car with coffee in a travel mug. You have only one thing on your mind.

As you draw up the long drive to the ultra-modern facade, the revulsion courses from your stomach into your throat. There’s something about his style that makes your eyes roll. So obnoxious and absurd. He’s exactly a caricature of a silver-spooned brat.

You park behind the beamer and take a draw from your insulated mug. Ugh, you need caffeine, you need strength and patience. You put it back in the cupholder and force yourself out of the peace of the front seat.

You stride up the white stone walkway and hit the doorbell. Once. Twice. Five times before you admit you will not receive an answer. You bring up the emergency file in your phone and key in the door code. Drysdale would shit if he knew his mother sent you it but she is a lot smarter than him. It makes you wonder how the apple rolled so far away after falling.

You let yourself in. It’s quiet but for the catch and skip of a forgotten record. You go into the front room. Open bottles of liquor forgotten on the glass table, a broken glass on the floor, and the record player crackling through the speaker.

You pull the needle off and pause to look out through the transparent wall that gives a clear view of the entire room. You know Drysdale to be shameless but really?

You put your phone away and approach the stares. The large gap between each gives a sense of vertigo to your ascent. You get to the top and head down the hall, glancing down over the entryway as you do.

You carry on and open a door; closet. The next, a bathroom, the other, a bedroom but not used. And finally, you find the door you’re looking for. On the other side, Mr. Drysdale sleeps with his ass naked in the room, upside down on the bed with his head hanging off the foot. The same woman from his Instagram are entwined with him as they sleep the right side up. Ugh, you don’t want to picture it.

You go into the en suite bathroom and take the sleek black plastic cup from beside the sink. You fill it with cold water and unhook the amber satin robe from the door as you pass. You march to the bed and dump the water onto Ransom’s head, watching it splash down his back.

He yipes and whips his head up with an unattractive snort, “what the fuck–”

“Robert Laing is due at nine. It’s ten to eight.” You drop the robe over him carelessly and spin on your heel, “let’s go., Mr. Drysdale.”

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #drabble #au #up all night #series #the club #knives out

[krirebr]

I Can't Sleep, Cause My Bed's On Fire

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Dark!Female Reader x Dark!Steve Rogers, established Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, past Ransom Drysdale x Steve Rogers

Word Count: ~3.3k

Summary: In Germany, you and Ransom run into someone from his past. Part of the Psycho Killer AU

Warnings: Horror elements, feeding off people, references to mind control, explicit language, group sex (mmf), light degradation, a little past (and present) heartache, a lot of smut- All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Ahahahaha! Oh god, what have I done????

A HUGE thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who let me flail all over her about this idea and read so, so much of it and talked me through the panic attack I always have when it's time to write smut.

Please come screech with me about this Steve. I'm so obsessed with him.

Ransom led you through the crowd by your hand. You lagged behind him as you tried to take in everything around you. People were dancing in cages, their eyes glossed over. There were humans laid out on tables as vampires fed on them. You saw no fewer than five couples fucking. This place was a wonderland. 

While you were still in France, Ransom had heard rumors of a vampires-only club in Germany, so now, after chasing down leads, you were in Berlin. You hadn’t known what to expect from Valkyrie, but this was more than you could have dreamed. No one was hiding here, pretending to be human, pretending to be weak. Here things were in their natural order. Here, even after only a few minutes, you really felt at the top of the food chain. Your fangs dropped in excitement and you let them stay. You were with your people now.

Ransom took you to the bar, pulling you in front of him and resting his chin on your shoulder. “What do you have on tap?” he yelled above the din to one of the bartenders. They placed a narrow menu in front of you, then moved on to help someone else. You looked at the selection of blood, all different types, ages, and diets. Your eyes wandered down to the bottom of the menu. “Hey,” you said over your shoulder to Ransom, “what do you think the Captain’s Special is?”

He went completely still. “What’d you say?” he asked, deadly serious. Without waiting for an answer he sniffed deeply. “Oh shit. We have to get out of here. Right fucking now,” he said as he started pulling you away.

You stood your ground. “What? Ran, no! I wanna st–”

A chuckle over his shoulder interrupted you. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh, Ransom?” 

He turned around very slowly to face an impossibly broad man, an inch or two taller than him with golden blonde hair and boy next door good looks. This new man looked about ten years younger than Ransom, but you knew better than to take that at face value. He reeked of power and experience.

“Steve,” Ransom said, cooly. “I thought you were still in Brooklyn.”

Steve shook his head, grinning. “Not for a few decades. It was time for a change.” He gave Ransom an obvious once-over. “You look good.”

Ransom scowled. “Where’s Bucky?”

Steve laughed and shrugged. “No idea. You know how Buck is.”

“I don’t actually.” Ransom said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard his voice be so cold. “I only met him at the end there.”

The grin didn’t leave Steve’s face. “Come on, you aren’t still upset about all that? You knew the score going in, Pup.” 

“There were lots of things I didn’t know going in, Steve.”

Steve sighed. “You always were so stubborn,” he said, reaching a hand out to stroke Ransom’s cheek, and Ransom, right in front of your eyes, fucking leaned into it.

Without realizing it, a growl built up in your throat. Steve’s eyes cut to you for the first time. “Oh! And who’s this pretty little thing?”

At that, Ransom seemed to come back to himself. “None of your fucking business.”

Steve wasn’t deterred. His eyes bore into you. You’d never been looked at like that before. It was like he was looking inside you. You felt like he could see everything you’d ever done, everything you’d ever thought. It made you want to cower, but it also pulled you to him.

“Oh,” he said with a slight moan, “she is brand new. What’d you bring me, puppy?”

“I didn’t bring you anything.” Ransom growled. “She’s mine.”

Steve looked back at Ransom at that. “Yours? As in…”

“Yes.”

He looked at you critically. “Very interesting.” He held out a hand to you. “Steve Rogers. Welcome to my club.”

You took it and said your name. He brought your hand up to his lips and laid a soft kiss on your knuckles, then, as he released it, gave you a smile that you could only describe as predatory. “An absolute pleasure,” he said. He took a breath as if to say more when he was interrupted by someone in a club uniform whispering in his ear. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Ransom. “I have to take care of this. But you should come back tomorrow night. I have a private room in the back. We’ll be able to catch up.” He glanced at you and licked his lips, then grabbed Ransom by the back of the neck and leaned in to give him one of the filthiest kisses you’d ever seen. Open-mouthed and wet. You could tell, even from the outside, how in control of it he was. It both made your knees weak and your blood boil. You were furious at Ransom for submitting to it. When he was done, he rested his forehead against Ransom’s and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Ran. Come back tomorrow.” When Steve pulled away, he winked at you. Then, over your head to the bartenders behind you, “Whatever they want is on me,” before disappearing back into the crowd.

Ransom grabbed your hand and tugged. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he growled. 

Once you were on the street outside, you pulled Ransom to a halt. “Who the fuck was that?” you shouted.

“That,” Ransom snarled, “was the fucking Captain!” At your blank look, he let out a heavy sigh. “Christ, you’re still so new. He’s a big fucking deal in our circles, ok? He’s a name. He’s known.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He’s a famous vampire?”

“He’s a powerful vampire!”

“Well, I could obviously see that! It radiates off of him! What I’m asking is, who is he to you?”

Ransom backed himself up against the nearest building and leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and sighed again. “He’s the one who turned me.”

“What?” was all you were able to say. You’d known, of course you’d known, that Ransom hadn’t always been a vampire, that he’d been turned at some point. But he’d never said a word about the circumstances and you honestly hadn’t given it much thought. Him being a vampire was just so natural to you, you couldn’t imagine him any other way.

And then you remembered how you'd felt when you'd first woken up when you'd opened your eyes and seen Ransom standing above you – everything you'd felt about him, the man who'd given you this incredible gift. The idea of Ransom feeling that way about someone else – about Steve – filled you with a fire so intense you wanted to spread it through this entire city, burn down absolutely fucking everything. “How long were you together?” You asked and you could feel how your voice shook.

“Less than a decade,” he said like he was trying to dismiss the whole thing. 

You scoffed. “You say that like it isn't a long time!”

“It isn't! Not to him, not to someone that old. He fought in the Revolutionary War, ok? I was a one-night stand to him.”

“But he wasn’t that to you,” you hissed.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then, finally, “No. He wasn’t.”

You’d never felt like this before, not even before, when you’d found out everything Andy had been up to. You’d never felt this all-consuming fire, this hate and despair and lust all swirling together. You wanted to put your fist through the brick wall next to you. You wanted to put Ransom through it. You wanted to fuck him right there on the street. It was only the fact that you equally wanted to do all three things at once that kept you from doing any of them.

Like he always could, Ransom read everything on your face, in your body. “I hate him, ok?” he said, reaching out and softly laying his palm against your cheek. “I hate him so much.” He was placating you but you still leaned into it. 

“You want him,” you whined. It was obvious in the way he’d melted into Steve’s touch, Steve’s kiss.

“I do,” Ransom nodded and you growled. He stroked his thumb along your cheekbone to soothe you. “I’ll always want him, just like you’ll always want me and I’ll always want you. There’s something about that bond – when you turn someone. I don’t know, but no matter how much I hate him, I’ll always want him.”

“And he’ll always want you,” you snarled.

Ransom gave you a rueful smile. “That, I’m not so sure. He’s a couple hundred years old and I don’t think even he knows how many progeny he has. Plus he’s been in love with the same man since he was human. When Bucky came back, I was shown the door.”

You were finally starting to let go of your anger. You moved fully into Ransom’s space, placing one hand on his chest. “Fuck him, then,” you said. “Let’s go back in there, drink him out of house and home and then get the fuck out of Germany.”

Ransom rested his forehead against yours, in a mirror of what Steve had done to him, and sighed. “We can’t. We have to come back tomorrow night.”

“We don’t.”

“We do. He’s fixated on you now.”

You took a step back at that and looked at him, confused. “He barely looked at me!”

“Trust me, if we leave now, it’ll become an obsession, and he’ll come after us just to show us that he can. We don’t want that.”

For the first time that night, you felt a frisson of fear. “Does he want to hurt me?”

Ransom snorted and you had the shortest moment to be offended before he said, “He wants to fuck you. Both of us, probably.”

“What?” you asked, surprised. “What would be the point of that for him?”

He snorted again, “Besides orgasms?” he said and then sobered. “It’s a power play. You have to know that every single thing he does is a power play. Ok? You must remember that when we see him again.” 

“Ok,” you nodded, a little frightened by his seriousness. But only for a moment, because quickly your thoughts were overtaken by a broad chest, thick thighs, and a perfect ass. 

You looked up to see Ransom smirking at you. “Yeah,” he said, “whatever you’re imagining, it’s going to be so much better. It’s the best thing about him.” 

You returned to the club the next night. Ransom had insisted on dressing you both – you in a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder dress that barely covered your ass and left your neck and chest exposed, him in a burgundy silk button-down, strategically unbuttoned, and tight black pants that made his ass pop. You were sure that if you could have looked at yourselves together in a mirror, it would have been a sight to behold.

Someone was called to the door when you got there and you were led directly to Steve’s private rooms in the back. You entered into a sort of sitting room, plush seating scattered throughout, arranged over lush rugs and under low lighting. Everything was dark wood and deep reds and blues. It communicated comfort, luxury, and, more than anything else, power.

Steve was already there, sitting in a large, wing-backed leather armchair. He looked, as ever, clean-cut, professional, and in charge. At his feet kneeled a dark-haired young woman, clad only in an expensive-looking slip made of silk and lace. You could smell the humanity on her. It took everything in you to not let your fangs drop right there. Steve slowly, gently, pet her head, like she were his dog. He gave a satisfied smile when he looked up at you both. “Good boy,” he said to Ransom. “I knew you’d come.”

Ransom huffed and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He layed a possessive arm across your stomach. “Of course. Who would dare ignore a summons from The Captain?” he said dryly.

Steve rolled his eyes but kept his smile. “Nothing as dramatic as all that. Am I not allowed to want to catch up with an old friend and his new lover?” Ransom scoffed but didn’t say anything, so Steve continued, gesturing to the woman at his feet. “I took the liberty of having something brought up from my private reserves for us to share. I remembered how you prefer the earthy ones, Ran. This one’s full-bodied and oaky, with the subtlest hint of vanilla. You’ll like it, I’m sure.” He stopped petting her, instead taking her hair in a harsh grip and moving her head to expose her neck.

At that, you couldn’t control yourself anymore, your fangs dropped with a hiss and you lunged forward. Ransom caught you, both arms around your middle and you let out a desperate whine. “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” he said. “My little rabbit still hasn’t quite mastered self-control and I would hate for there to be an accident with one of your favorites.”

Steve scoffed. “Of course, she doesn’t have any control with you being the one to teach her.” 

You felt Ransom stiffen behind you, and you were able to pull yourself together enough to stop fighting to get loose. You sank back into him, partly to comfort and partly to apologize. You’d embarrassed him. You tipped your head back to try to whisper an apology, maybe, but Ransom just subtly shook his head and ran a comforting hand down your side.

“Well,” Steve said, patting the woman on the arm and then snapping at the door behind him, “can’t be helped, I guess. Pity.” He pulled out his phone and typed a message as she got up and left the room. “They’ll bring us something from the bar.”

“Excellent,” Ransom said, still running his hand up and down your side. “We haven’t eaten anything yet tonight.”

“Well,” Steve said with a smirk as there was a knock on the door and someone in the club’s uniform came in with a tray of drinks, “I promise you’ll both be very satisfied.” He passed a tumbler to each of you. “What should we cheers to?” he asked. Then his eyes narrowed in on you. “To new friendships,” he said, with a quirk of his lips.

You raised your glass, then took a sip and moaned. It was delicious, even though you missed the little cries and whimpers that usually accompanied a feeding. 

You were so absorbed in your glass that you were surprised by Steve’s fingers circling your wrist. “You like it?” he asked, his voice low and husky, standing much closer to you than you’d realized. This close, he was completely intoxicating. His scent, the coldness of his touch, his power.

“I do,” you breathed, “it’s delicious.” Ransom’s arm wrapped across your body again, pulling you tight into him. 

Steve ignored the display from Ransom, softly running his thumb over what had been your pulse point when you were human. “I’m glad,” he said. “I’m here to please.”  He began to pull you away by your wrist and Ransom let out a short but obvious growl. Steve took his attention off you but left his hand and tsked. “You always were so possessive. I’d hoped you’d have grown out of that by now, but you’re still so young, aren’t you, pup?”

Ransom scowled. “I always hated it when you called me that.”

“No,” Steve said. He leaned forward and placed a soft but leading kiss on Ransom’s lips, squishing you between the two men. Your whole body was thrumming with need now. Steve pulled away, and Ransom moved his head to chase after him. “You loved it,” Steve whispered.

He grabbed your free wrist with his other hand and pulled you with him as he walked over to the nearest couch, perching on the arm. “Come here, little one. Let’s talk, just you and me.” He pulled you so you straddled his knee, and you could tell that you were soaking his pants leg through the tiny excuse for underwear you were wearing. “Oh, you are a needy thing, aren’t you? Maybe you should stay with me, hmm? I’m much more experienced and have so much more to teach you.”

You could feel Ransom’s hackles rising, even from a few feet away. You turned your head to look at him, still standing by the door, and his eyes were locked on you, just you. You bit your lip to hold back the moan at how he watched. You turned back to Steve and smiled seductively as you said, “And what would happen to me when Bucky comes back?”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. His eyes cut to Ransom as he said, “Jealous little thing!” He jerked his knee up, rubbing hard on your cunt and you gasped. “Yes, I’m sure he’s told you all about how I spurned him. Took advantage of his naivety. As if he ever had any. Is that what he told you? Am I the big bad?” You couldn’t answer him, could barely think, as his knee continued to grind against you. “Oh, little one, you are drenched. How does he handle you by himself? Ransom,” he called over your shoulder. “Come help your desperate thing.”

In an instant, you felt Ransom’s hands on your hips, and you couldn’t help the cry that tumbled out of you. He had your dress off before you could even register what he was doing. Steve groaned at the sight of the black lace that adorned your body. “You wrapped her up exactly how I like. Such a good puppy.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You tore through Steve’s shirt, sending buttons flying across the room. He lunged forward, kissing you, finally, demanding and aggressive, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, making you keep up with him. You felt Ransom’s own mouth on your neck, his hands on your breasts. Your hands fumbled their way down Steve’s abs and into his pants, freeing his cock—long, fat, and so, so hard for you. One of them, you weren’t sure which, tore away your underwear, the sting of the elastic snapping pushing you ever closer to the edge. In your periphery, you vaguely noticed Steve’s arm snaking around you and heard Ransom gasp. You wrapped a firm hand around Steve’s cock and stroked furiously, as Ransom’s fingers (you’d always know Ransom’s fingers) slid between your folds, his thumb quickly finding your clit while two fingers slipped inside you. You keened as he touched you exactly where he knew you needed it and sent you hurtling over the cliff of your orgasm. Your whole body shook with it, only managing to stay upright thanks to being sandwiched between these two men. It felt endless, but as the aftershocks ran their course, and you slowly came back down to earth, you registered Steve’s breaths growing more erratic and Ransom’s groans picking up behind you. You tightened your grip on Steve and increased the pace of your strokes to an inhuman speed until he bucked uncontrollably with a guttural moan and painted his spend all over your front. Seconds later, you felt Ransom’s own release on the small of your back. They both continued to jerk against you, gradually slowing down until the three of you were just one tangle of limbs, collectively trying to catch your breaths. You rested your head against Steve’s shoulder as Ransom collapsed against your back.

Steve looked over you both to the clock on the wall. “Well,” he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction, “we have about six hours til sunrise, and there’s a bed in the next room. Think we’ll be able to find a way to fill the time?”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @she-wolf09231982

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader x steve rogers #ransom drysdale #knives out #steve rogers #ransom drysdale x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark steve rogers #dark reader #reader insert #fanfic #captian america #ce characters #chris evans fanfiction #psycho killer au #kris wrote something #vampire au

[boxofbonesfic]

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

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

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

Which brings him to now.

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

What is on his mind, is you. 

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

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

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

But not anymore. 

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

Fuck.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.” 

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

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

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

“How would you know?”

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

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

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

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s fine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ransom, don’t—”

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

—

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

It feels right. 

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible. 

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

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

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

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

“So you haven’t fucked him.” 

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs. 

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

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you. 

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds. 

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it. 

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages. 

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger. 

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought. 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.” 

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—”  Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red. 

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”  He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.  “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.” 

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it. 

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth. 

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control. 

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.” 

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him. 

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds. 

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone. 

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder. 

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you. 

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.” 

the end

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

#chris evans smut #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom x y/n #dark!fic #dark AU #college AU

[onsunnyside]

³¹.⍭ 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SOFT DARK themes and elements, cheating, revenge, obsessive/possessive behaviour, jealousy, competition, size difference: all 6’7-6’9, manhandling, manipulation, coercion. SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON: they’re all wearing the same mask & reader doesn’t know who it is, chase kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex (p in v, anal), double penetration. specific warnings in each part.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Don't get sad, get even. Based on this post.

𝗧𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗪/𝗖 | 8.23K

𝗔/𝗡 | happy halloween, besties !! and happy smutty-tober finale. this is not quite a battle of the boyfriends but more like revenge of the boyfriends. Heed all warnings, you are responsible for your media consumption. No gifs/photos belong to me [pinterest board], all credits go to the original creators, but the visual was made by me.

Feel free to send asks about this series!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

IMPORTANT: to see my posts, change your content labels.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: (1/2)

1/2

2/2 - postponed

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘: tags

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬: #karma drabble

Discussions/Drabbles: thots  |  fluff

all asks  |  ideas  |  art  |  spicy videos

links (videos/tiktoks)  |  about  |  psa

Characters: reader | ari | steve | curtis | ransom

#Ari Levinson #Steve Rogers #Curtis Everett #Ransom Drysdale #dark fic #ari levinson x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Curtis Everett x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #tw dark fic #college au #ghostface au #ghostface ​ari levinson #ghostface ransom drysdale #ghostface steve Rogers #ghostface Curtis Everett #sonny’s stories #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #ari levinson fanfiction #Chris evans x reader #chris evans characters #steve rogers fanfiction #curtis everett fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #size difference #karma au #frat boy au #ari levinson x fem!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Court Of Public Opinion - Andy Barber x Reader Masterlist

A/N: This is the sequel to Memory Served and will contain major spoilers for that series so go read that one first if you haven’t already!

Summary: 4 months have passed since your disappearance and Andy is beginning to lose hope. However a miracle is just around the corner, but it comes with its own complications 

Series Warnings: Angst! Talk of Abduction! Talk of Non-Con and Dub-Con! Language! Fluff! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! more detailed warnings in each part

Status: Ongoing

This series has no update schedule! Do not ask when it is getting updated!

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#NiamhWrites #CoPO #memory served sequel #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #frank adler #Frank Adler x reader #Frank Adler x Y/N #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n

[babyjakes]

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

event | jan ‘23 blurb night

summary | you will learn to take cock; it's the doctor's orders.

pairing | mean!dark!doctor!ransom drysdale x lloyd's little!reader

warnings | ddlg (daddy!lloyd's little!reader), doctor!ransom is mean, dark, cruel, sick, and we love him for it <33, dub/noncon, medfet elements: exam table, restraints, gloves, vaginal dilators, stretching (reader is initially very tight), pain kink, crying, mocking/degradation, humiliation, praise, one forced orgasm, implied forced p in v sex :^), formatting looks silly bc went over the character count

word count | 1,488

requested by anon | Hey hey, what about a mean!doctor ransom with those vaginal dilators? He has a couple that gradually get larger in both length and thickness. Since he knows reader has such a small hole, he works those dilators one at a time to get her stretched and used to the size so he can pound into her later or at a later date. He’s a sadistic little shit too, enjoying whenever reader is moaning or whimpering in pain, telling him to ease up or take it out. Yet, he responds with something like “Awww, but we got to get you nice and stretched for my cock. You can take it, can’t you? Cmon…Be a good little fuck toy.” Maybe after a bit of begging, he shows the reader some mercy by rubbing her clit as he works the next size into her. Once he gets her through the size closest to his *coughs* hard as fuck cock *coughs*, he’d probably fuck her right then and there. Who knows….. I feel like he’d definitely take pleasure in watching her grow anxious though as he fastens the straps tightly, puts his gloves on, lays out the dilators and anything else he needs or wants, cuts off her clothes/underwear with a knife, that jazz. I wonder if he would explain what he would be doing to her or would he rather choose not to inform reader what torture procedure they’re gonna be enduring. Just a thought :)

an | oooh thanks for this wonderful idea friend! i hope it's okay that i took it and tweaked it a little bit!! i just love the idea of ran doing this to lloyd's baby, those two assholes work so perfectly together in my mind <3

dr. hugh ransom drysdale is such a fucking menace.

and that's precisely what lloyd loves so much about him. he's nearly as sadistic and cruel as the mustached maniac himself, which makes him the naturally perfect fit when lloyd's girl ends up having a little problem... down there.

he drops you off at the younger man's office, wide-eyed and trembling as you sign in at the receptionist's desk. no one accompanies you back to your room, and it takes everything in you not to turn and run when dr. drysdale himself appears in the doorway, pumping sanitizer onto his hands as he closes the door behind him. no nurse accompanying him, it's just the two of you in the claustrophobic exam room. "ms. y/n," he greets, rubbing the foam between his hands as he takes a seat on his stool, motioning for you to get up on the table.

your eyes never leave him as you climb up, trying to use the pathetic patient's gown as best you can to cover yourself as you sit at the edge of the table. ransom chuckles at your bashfulness, rolling over and yanking off the flimsy garment before you can even think to stop him. "we won't be needing that, sweetheart. now be a good girl and lie back for me."

he's rough when handling you to guide you further toward the edge of the padded surface. when he reaches for your legs to put them up in the stirrups, your first tears begin to fall. "aw, poor thing. look at you- such big, frightened eyes. don't cry, baby. 'm i gonna have to strap you down?" his voice is so mocking in tone, you pass a small glare his way. "lloyd said you can get pretty defiant when trying to fit things up there, let's see..." he finds the right set of restrains in one of the drawers below the table, beginning to secure you in place as your soft protests start.

your poor heart rate's elevated as you lie tied and spread in such a vulnerable manner; staring up at the ceiling, you try to get your breathing under control. "now sweetheart, did your daddy tell you what we'd be doing today? he go over the procedures i'll need to perform?"

cheeks burning in humiliation, you look over at the grinning doctor as he starts to pull on a pair of black exam gloves. "it's okay, little girl. no need to be embarrassed. your daddy brought you here because he can't fuck you, right? he can't fit his cock up your tight little pussy?" you wince at his profanities, but he doesn't mind. "well," his voice trails off as he snaps on his second glove, tightening them both before focusing on the unopened box waiting for him on his instrument tray, "lucky for you, i know exactly how to help poor little girls who can't fit anything up their tiny little fuckholes."

from your spot, you strain to see what he removes from the packaging. when you realize it's a set of black rubber cylinders with rounded ends, ranging in size from just an inch wide and a few inches long to... god knows how long or wide, completely massive, your breath hitches in your throat. seeing your panic, ransom chuckles. "don't worry, baby. we'll start small. gotta work you up to the bigger ones, get you nice and ready for your daddy's big dick."

as you cry and tremble silently to yourself, he positions himself between your spread legs, grabbing a small bottle of lubricant and spreading some over the tip of one of the smaller instruments. "know you're not warmed up yet, sweetheart. bet you're still dry and scared- that's okay. this should help." once he has enough of the clear goo applied to the rubber, he turns to the intimate spot between your legs. "poor little girl," he repeats as he brings a thumb up to run over your folds, his sick mind of course finding great pleasure in the sight of you jerking away from his touch.

he brings the tip of the dilator up to rub over your hole a few times before slowly pushing it in, surprised at how tight you actually are. "jesus," he breathes, "he wasn't kidding when he said you can't even take a finger, hmm?"

"p-please," you beg as your head twists and turns desperately, "t-too big, hurts- please!"

"shhh, you can take it," ransom fights you, working the tool back and forth gradually until he has the entire thing fit inside your sore cunt. tears prickle in your eyes at the stretch. "see? that wasn't so bad," he croons, pumping the length of it in and out for a few minutes before removing it. he knows he should probably just work up one size at a time, but part of him wants it to hurt for you, so he decides to skip a few sizes. at the sight of his next choice, you cry harder.

"aww, poor little baby. but we have to get you all ready for your daddy's cock, remember? this next one isn't even close, we still have so far to go." once he's lubed up the toy, he starts to push it in again. he can't help but smile and laugh at you as you struggle against your restraints, letting out such sweet little cries of pain. "c'mon, gotta be a big girl for me. can you do that, sweetheart?" he asks, already knowing your answer.

"no, please!" you sob, "please! can't take it, h-hurts so bad- please!"

"i know it hurts baby, but we gotta get you nice and stretched out. you can take it, pretty girl. c'mon, almost there..." he has to fight to get the damn thing all the way in, but once he does and starts working it in and out, fucking you at a gradual pace with it, you're finally easing up a little bit, your cries of pain transitioning into little whimpers and moans. "there," he grins, getting a little rougher with his ministrations. "that's a good little slut, see? doesn't that feel good? so full, taking it so far up in you? look at you, you dirty girl; are you starting to get wet for me?"

you're panting, droopy-eyed, disoriented; you don't understand why it's starting to feel good. he removes the second size and you're given a moment to catch your breath, but when you see the next one the doctor's selected, you just about fall apart all over again. "oh come on, don't cry again," ransom groans, resisting the urge to shove the thing into you dry. "you're getting so close, sweetheart. here," once it's properly lubed, he begins pressing in again, and when you clench your teeth and begin to sob as predicted, he decides to have a little mercy on you, bringing his free hand up to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. your cries lessen as he masturbates you, though it's still an unbearable stretch. "i know, so big, isn't it baby? think after this one we'll be able to try one the size of your daddy's dick- won't he be so proud?"

it's a struggle to get it in, taking lots of pushing and help from ransom's thumb on your clit, but eventually you're able to take the toy in its entirety. "good, that's a good little fucktoy. look at you, getting so fucking needy- you're dripping all over the table, naughty girl." though it wasn't in his original plan, he's loving the sight of you writhing and mewling under his touch. growing a little more forceful with his thrusts, he speeds up his thumb over your clit. "you gonna cum for me baby? feels that good, huh? just can't help yourself."

you have no desire to orgasm, but at this point it seems like you won't have a choice. "no, wait- please-" you start to protest, but your resistance only eggs the doctor on more.

his voice is low, dark as he cuts you off. "no, don't fight me, little girl. you're gonna cum for me, now." tears well up in your eyes once more as you're brought to the edge of a terrifying climax; ransom lets out a vicious laugh as your orgasm rips through you. "fuck, just like that. filthy little bitch, getting off on the pain."

as you float down from your high, you're too dazed to notice the object being removed from you, and the doctor's hands pulling away. but when you come back to your senses to see dr. drysdale's massive, rock-hard cock has sprung free from his trousers, you're back to a terrified, frantic state as he grins devilishly at you. "what?" he mocks confusion as he reaches a hand down to pump his length a few times with a low grunt. “this way we can ensure you’ll be ready for your daddy.”

#eun’s writing #eun's blurb nights #jan ‘23 blurb night #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale blurb #ransom drysdale headcanon #chris evans #chris evans smut #knives out #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader, Lance Tucker x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: After your night with Ransom, you’re moving on—really.  

Word Count: 2,818

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark, Stalking, Fear/Paranoia, Unreliable Narrator, Yandere Vibes, BDSM (Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Suspension, Aftercare), brief Smut (Vaginal Penetration, Unsatisfying), Pet Names (baby, pidge, etc). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Here’s some more Ransom, being patient as he can be. Let me know what you think!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Breathe. In. Out. Your body relaxes into the cradle of ropes. You catch a glimpse of Chase, his smile shining for his audience. You keep your thoughts on him, too scared to let them drift. 

Though, another eye catches yours from the crowd. Your lips twitch and your teeth worry over them. Hunger, deep and dark, glinting. Pride radiating in waves. The eyes of a man who looks at you as though you’re a pristinely polished trophy. And you’re happy to be that for Lance Tucker. Just for him. God, what you’d let that man do to you. Never imagining the man who might do it better—never. 

You try to blink away thoughts of that rich asshole and let your eyes drift closed. A hand binding your wrists, around your throat. That smug smirk of his as he took you apart piece by piece. 

No. There’s no room for Ransom. He didn’t write you a check, but a week later you’d gotten a direct deposit—more than he’d promised. And you hadn’t heard from him since. Good riddance. 

You find Lance in the crowd again and let his proud smile satisfy you. You don’t need some pompous, entitled, egotistical brat hanging around being a creep. You’re glad Ransom got you out of his system. Really. You are. 

You breathe a moment, centering yourself back in the present. There’s no need to think about Ransom Drysdale. None at all. 

“Are you alright?” Chase asks in a quiet tone. His hand reaches out to steady you, grounding you to the conversation with him. 

“I’m fine,” you reply before assessing the state of your body. “But a little sore? Maybe? I think I might need to come down soonish.” 

“Alright,” Chase says. He turns back to the crowd announcing the end of his presentation, explaining the aftercare and begins to lower the rig. 

Your belly finds the mats, hands still wrapped behind your back. You turn your head and rest it on the cushion while you wait. Chase approaches and kneels by your waist. 

A laugh huffs from your chest when you look up at him. “I could have stayed up longer.” 

Chase quirks a brow. “I’m sure you could have. But I didn’t think you should.” 

You make an accepting sound in your throat and let him do his work. A minute passes before your limbs are all free. Chase wraps the rope from his palm to his elbow, winding it to put away. 

Slowly, you begin to move. First legs, stretching into the air and bending, then arms. When you finally push up from the mat, Chase stands ready to help guide you back to your room. 

“You did good today,” you remark as you both walk down the hallway. “They were eating up every word. Saw a bunch heading toward your photography table.” He smiles at you. “I think they really like the pose, too.” 

The door opens to your room and you find your futon. Chase hands you your snack and drink. 

“What do you think about going vertical next week?” he asks, brushing his fingers over your forehead while you lay comfortably on your bed. 

“As long as I’m not upside down,” you reply with closed eyes and a yawn. 

“I’ll let Lance know you’re ready for him.” Chase leaves you drifting off to sleep to get your boyfriend—the newest addition to your aftercare routine. 

The door opens and you feel the tender touch of Lance’s hand. He leans down to kiss your lips. 

“Hey, baby,” you murmur, half asleep. But when you turn over and open your eyes, no one’s there. You sit up and glance around. 

The door sits in its frame, shut and undisturbed, just like the rest of your room. Must have been your imagination, but you could’ve sworn…

The door opens and Lance struts in. You catch his eye and his smile beams. 

“God, you were fantastic!” he enthuses. Taking his hands from his track pants pockets, he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. They taste of cherry chapstick, how could you have forgotten that—the lips that kissed yours before him didn’t. 

“You waiting up for me?” 

You nod without a word, unsure as to what to say. Part of you wants to mention that moment before he came in. But why would he want to hear about your dream? Instead, you pull back your blanket, inviting him to warm you up. 

“As soon as we get back to your place, I’ll get your epsom salt bath going,” he starts, liking the sound of his own voice as much as you do. It grounds you, especially after a strange encounter with a figment of your imagination. “Gotta make sure you aren’t sore in the morning. Then we can get you in your…”

He keeps talking and it lulls you to sleep. Knowing that when you wake up, he’ll take you back to your place and sleep over. And everything will go like it always does. 

Which is why you’re unsurprised when Saturday morning dawns and Lance has slotted himself between your thighs. 

His hips curve into yours, his cock stretching you wide. Your fingers dig into his spine, clutching him close. Moans spill from your lips. His heavy breaths brush across your cheeks. Sweat beads on his brow as he readjusts you, stretching one of your legs closer to your chest while keeping the other wrapped around his hips. 

Your lips press together. It all feels good—always has. Even when you were finding your groove together, with his athleticism and your need for intimacy. 

He makes noises of pleasure. His hips accelerating in a signal of his imminent release. Your eyes close, focusing on your own. Lance’s hips stutter. He paints your insides with his cum and sighs. 

A sunny smile spreads his lips. How his hair remains coiffed after all the sweat and exertion, you don’t know, but it’s endearing. A quirk you quite adore. 

He flops to the side, running his hand along his abdomen, tickling the tattoo of the gold ribbon he has leading down his pelvis. Another uniquely Lance thing. So proud of his accomplishments, and you don’t blame him. He’s incredible. 

But your pulse thrums with the dissipating arousal of your unsatisfied lust. Your arms reach over your head, stretching sore muscles. Without meaning to, you let your mind wander. How Ransom made you sore in the best way. How he fit inside you. How he made you cum until you ached for nothing but pleasure. 

Your boyfriend’s hand reaches over, smoothing over your tummy and flicking at one of your nipples.

“Where’re you going?” he asks. 

You look over and smile. Eyes trace over his pouty lips and bright blue eyes. You tilt your head and brush your lips to his. 

“I’m right here,” you reply. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” Harlan asks. He leans back in his chair and you lift your head from your research. 

“The toxicology of plant-based poisons,” you reply, immersed in your work. Though, you know it won’t satisfy your boss. 

He says nothing more for a moment. Letting you turn your full attention back to the research at hand. He probably didn’t need much help in the subject with how long he’s been writing murder mysteries. Still, he always likes to be accurate. As few creative liberties as possible—at least where it counts. 

“Alright,” he says with as little enthusiasm as he can bestow on such an acceptance. “You will tell me eventually, mind.” 

“Will I?” you mumble distractedly. 

“You’re not a very good liar.” 

You snort and turn the page, picking up a highlighter and sticky note to jot down a thought on a passage about cyanide. 

“It isn’t something Walt did, is it?” he prods, the weight of his observant gaze heavy on your shoulders. 

“No, Harlan,” you reply, recapping the pen in your hand. 

“What about Ransom? He gave you some trouble a little while ago.”

You swallow and push aside the embarrassment and panic that spikes through you, replying, “No, Harlan.” 

“Huh,” he says. 

“Shouldn’t you be working?” you ask with a huff of mild frustration. 

“I’m quite stuck on what should happen next,” he says with a flick to the corner of the page. 

“Right,” you drone with the skeptical quirk of your eyebrow sent in his direction. 

He smiles that enigmatic smile of his and reaches up a hand to cup his chin. “You know I’m just concerned.” 

With a sigh, you give up on your work. Your boss won’t let you focus on it anyway. Folding your arms over your chest, you lean back and contemplate how best to word your explanation. One tiny slip and the jig is up. How could you possibly tell him his grandson paid to fuck you better than anyone ever has?

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you admit, pursing your lips around the word. “Don’t need to tell you all the gory details, though.”

“That’s the best part of a story,” he refutes with a twinkle in his eye. His full attention remains on you, waiting for the final crack before the flood. 

“Let’s just say,” you pause for the right wording. “My boyfriend is amazing, but doesn’t always…” You trail off with a hand gesture to imply the rest.

“You mean in the boudoir?” Harlan twines his fingers and tilts his head in interest. 

You snort and nod. “Yeah.” You lean back in your chair until your eyes meet the ceiling. “Got me thinking about the last prick. He was an asshole, but he...” You trail off, uncertain as to how you might finish the thought.

Harlan looks at you a long while. When your head turns to meet his gaze, he says, “May I offer advice in the form of an old adage?”

You sit upright and nod. “Lay it on me.” Complete with a grabbing motion of your hands. 

“Comparison is the thief of joy.” 

It sits in the air, letting you soak it in. Harlan returns to his manuscript in silence. Yet you’re stuck on the words. He’s right. Ransom is your past—a blip, if anything—and Lance is your future—a real, solid one at that.

You turn back to your research with determination. Refusing to let Ransom occupy a second more of your thoughts. You start back on your note about cyanide. 

“I know that’s not all, by the by,” your boss intones right as your pen meets paper. “But it’s enough for now.”

You swallow and glance over your shoulder to him. “Thanks.” 

Harlan nods with a hum and places his glasses on his nose. 

The sounds of the typewriter fill the empty space of the room and the two of you continue your work. You lose yourself to the facts and let the hours tick by. Thoughts wavering on your future. 

“Seriously, this tastes like shit.” 

You hear his voice before you see him. Your heart drops to your stomach. All you can think is ‘Oh, God, no.’ Your feet find the final step and you freeze. Unsure of the best course of action. 

You might be able to completely skirt by unnoticed through the front door. Or the back patio. As long as Ransom stays in the kitchen. 

It was coming back inside that posed the problem. Harlan sending you on an errand to the local public library to pick up a book he placed on hold. If Ransom were still here, how could you avoid him without knowing his position in the mansion? 

“It’s a good thing I didn’t make it for you, Hugh,” Fran replies. 

You blink out of your momentary panic. As if Ransom ever stayed so long with his grandfather. He’d be long gone by the time you got back. You scurry out the door, closing it with the softest click.

The breeze bites through the air. It stings your face with its crisp coolness. You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck and bundle your hands deeper into your sleeves. On the threshold of winter, you dread the thought of the first snow. 

You wait a moment for your car to warm before driving down the road to town. Thoughts mull in your mind, but music tunes them out. The radio already blasting holiday songs on repeat, prompting another train of thought to occupy you. Your first holiday not alone. Gifts for Lance. Holiday plans and the small, hopeful feeling warm in your chest.

You find a parking spot at the library and exit your car. The cold wind bustles you inside and you walk to the front counter. Used to your face, the librarians move quickly to check-out Harlan’s book to you. You smile and thank them, and then you’re on your way back, with little time to get your head on straight when thoughts of Ransom resurface. 

Parking the car, you linger a moment in the quickly dissipating heat. The car door slams behind you. A few quick strides take you back up the steps and into the house. You shiver as you undress your outerwear, hanging each piece up on your hook—coat, hat, scarf, mittens. 

You pause to listen. Straining to see if you can hear Ransom’s voice anywhere in the house. Knowing how much he likes to hear himself speak. Nothing. A sigh of relief blows past your lips. 

The stairs creak on your ascent. Marta greets you on her way down, a furrow between her brow. You almost ask her about it, but she slips away in a quick descent. 

You make it to the second landing and stop. He’s standing right there. Staring at a painting on the wall—one you’d admired before, reminiscent of Artemisia Gentileschi. One you pass multiple times a day on your way up to Harlan’s study. One of your favorite pieces in the house, really. 

Wishing to turn invisible just for a moment, you clutch the book close to your chest and close your eyes. With determination, you open them and march past Ransom, ignoring his presence. Yet, in your periphery, his head turns. 

“Oh,” he says—is there a tinge of affection in his tone? He cocks his head to the side and takes a long perusal of your body. His eyes narrow. “Where have you been?” Any question of tenderness vanishes with the question. Replaced by his usual derision.

You hold up the book in explanation. He squints at the cover and his lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. He seems to think better of a comment and looks back to the painting. 

“If you’ll excuse me then, Mr. Drysdale.” 

His jaw ticks in irritation. Eyes flashing toward you, he grits, “Call me Ransom, pidge.” 

You step sideways toward the stairs up to Harlan’s personal study. “Right,” you mutter under your breath. “I just thought—” You shake your head. A buzz in your pocket catches your attention. You pull the screen halfway out to check. The preview of a text from Lance shines up at you. Your lips twitch toward a smile as you tuck it away. “Nevermind.” You make it up two steps before you hear his voice again. 

“Is Lance treating you right?”

You might have thought the question just a figment of your imagination—prone as you are to those. But turning around, he watches you curiously. Your lips part, stunned.

“How did you know about him?” you ask with a glance over your shoulder to the upstairs door, drawn but not closed. Praying that Harlan won’t be privy to this unexpected conversation. 

“Friend of a friend,” Ransom replies with a shrug. But his eyes do not leave yours. It unsettles you, the steadiness of his focus. 

You swallow down your unease. “Why do you care?” you prod. Your face scrunches in an expression of dubiousness. 

Ransom blinks and looks away to the painting again. “I don’t.” The words rasp between his teeth.

“Right,” you mutter under your breath. “Well, Ransom.” Your fingers tap on the book cover. “I, uh, hope you have a nice rest of your day.” 

You retreat up the rest of the stairs and enter Harlan’s study. With a great huff of air releasing your nerves and pent-up frustration, you glance at your boss. A curious expression adorns his features. Your stomach flips, but you ignore it and hand over his book, ready to get back to work. You’re sure he’ll ask his questions later. 

As for you, you’ve got some answered. Like the fantasy of whether Ransom would really be such a horrible option. The answer is yes. No matter how well he fucked you or how he sent you reeling in your throes of passion, he is not the man for you. Of that, you’re now absolutely certain. 

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #dark #dark fic #lance tucker fanfic #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x reader #smut #yandere vibes #tw stalking #stalking #18+ #minors dni

[royalsweetteaa]

Good intent

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Homeless!Reader

Chapter 1

ONLY 18+ | MINORS DNI

WARNING - This story contains the following: dark & suggesting themes such as kidnapping, non-con, explicit smut, obsessive behavior/possessive behavior/delusional behavior on Ransom’s part, Ransom being a creep in general, unbalanced power dynamic, Stockholm syndrome on reader’s part, classism, size kink, manipulation, angst, a bit of sad!Ransom, eventual fluff.

Ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Summary: Ransom is going through a mid-life crisis where he’s miserable and he wants to change things up to make his daily life more interesting. The change involves taking the freedom of someone who he deems is beneath societal suitability.

Narrator POV

For the past few weeks, Ransom Drysdale had taken notice of a new piece to his repetitive - and quite frankly, boring pattern of a routine.

Every Saturday evening, he and a couple of his so-called friends, who conveniently only hung out with him on occasions where he felt like wasting a lot of money, would go to the nightclub to get drunk, sometimes snort cocaine given the chance, then go their separate ways to hook up with whores when the evening came to an end.

This used to be Ransom’s highlight of the week, and it still was compared to what he did any other day.

He didn’t do much else at home other than occasionally picking up girls to go on a ride on the Beamer - one of his most precious possessions, to then end up at his house to hot sex. His sex drive had been indefinitely high ever since he started his trust fund of a life style. Being alone in a big house with too much money and no job to keep him occupied had led him to feel lonely, frustrated and lastly concluding - lust.

He used to love the attention he was given by the women who so easily spread their legs for him, but eventually he felt empty from them. Because despite how much they would beg him to use them like they were his personal sextoys in the heat of the moment, he knew deep down they didn’t rely on him as much as he relied on them. They were just as much after a good fuck as him, but as soon as he kicked them out of his house the morning after, they were off doing whatever ‘normal people’ do.

They probably had family, friends,…- he on the other hand was left to ponder on what to do next to entertain himself. He had yet to find that one thing that could bring some sort of stability and could satisfy his thirst for a lifelong entertainment. Getting a job was not one of them, no matter how much he sometimes considered it. He only had to remind himself of how miserable he was the few weeks he worked for Harlan at the publishing company.

No, he wanted something else.

And tonight, he thinks he might have found it.

A young woman had caught his eye each time he drove past the street that led to the nightclub. It was obvious enough that she was homeless, given that he had seen her laying against the wall of an apartment building, snuggling in her sleeping bag - reasonably so because it was the end of October. The nights were only getting colder as winter was right around the corner. She wasn’t wearing anything appropriate for the weather either - a thin jacket with no gloves and a hat barely covering her ears to keep her warm.

Her appearance alone wasn’t something he found eye catching. It was simply how there were rarely, if any homeless people around. This small town was known for people of high class, with the exception of lower classes visiting the area to spend the little extra money they had earned from their minimum wage paying job to have a once in a life time experience in the 5 star restaurants or in the luxurious nightclub. The few homeless people who did end up here would be kicked out days later, due to complaints from the rich of how they were ruining the reputation the town tries to uphold.

Ransom couldn’t stay more neutral on the case as he cared little to nothing about what the town decided to do with the less fortunate - as long as his money and property wasn’t personally affected, it didn’t matter to him.

But for once, he couldn’t help but be a little confused as to how this woman had lasted as long as she had. It had been more than a week, and she still hadn’t moved from her spot. Maybe the people who lived in the apartment didn’t mind her presence, or were too occupied to even notice her. She kept her spot pretty tidy too, making sure to not let any trash she may have to spread out on the pavement. She wasn’t the average homeless man who would beg for a penny either, which led Ransom to assume she had some money to cover a few basic needs but not enough to sleep somewhere.

These thoughts kept him preoccupied while he slowly downed the whiskey he had kept in his hand for the longest time. His friends seemed to take notice of how quiet he was the whole time, and tried to ignite his usual enthusiasm.

“See that chick over there? She’s come all this way from Missouri and I heard she gives the best head. Think it’d be good for you to let off some steam and give it a shot, pal.” One of the guys said smugly and pointed to the blonde who seemed to have already been checking out Ransom as she bit her bottom lip seductively.

Ransom sighed and sunk his shoulders. “Sure, why the fuck not.”

He walked up to the woman with a smirk on his face to keep up the same facade he’s had for a while. They flirted with each other - Ransom commented how her filthy words coming from her mouth was turning him on, though it was hardly the truth, and the woman replied with; “wanna see what other filthy things my mouth can do?”

One thing led to another, and he found himself in the handicap restroom with the woman between his legs sucking him off. It was good, - great even, but he felt nothing. This has been going on and on - he practically knows how the night is going to end and it makes him feel miserable. How would this spiral ever end if he kept on letting it happen?

“Fuck-! Stop, just stop.” Ransom said hastily while pushing the woman off of him. “I can’t fucking do this right now.” The blonde had an offended look on her face, but he paid no mind as he tucked his dick back in his boxers and zipped up his trousers. As he left the restroom he could hear her shout after him “you piece of shit!”

It caught the attention of one of his buddies, and they asked if something went wrong, to which he muttered: “I’m leaving. M’tired of this fuckin’ place.”

None of them bothered to go after him after that. Of course they wouldn’t.

He walked towards his car that was parked only feet away from the nightclub entrance. The little alcohol in his system wasn’t enough to make him not sober, so he was confident to drive home safely. Though, his plan wasn’t to drive straight home even if he tried to convince himself it was all the reason he left early.

Driving closer to the all too familiar street, he scanned alongside the pavement, grinning mischievously when his eyes landed on the mysterious homeless woman.

There she is.

Slowing the car down, he came to a full stop when his car reached alongside her. She seemed to have awoken abruptly from the car’s rumbling engine, and glanced up to be met by the driver’s eyes. His gaze was on her through the whole process of him turning off the engine to him stepping out of his car.

He has never been this close to her, and so he took his time to study her face. Upon a closer look, he found her to be quite pretty. Cute even. Dare he say attractive if it wasn’t for the dust on her cheeks, her greasy hair and fashionably outdated clothes. In a sense, he felt dominant as his tall frame seemed to threaten her. Maybe it was the cold temperature, but he liked to think her sudden stiff composure was because of him.

“What’s your name?” Ransom asked, deciding to finally break the silence.

She gave him a cautious look before mumbling her name. One could easily miss it, but Ransom had sharp ears when he really wanted to listen.

“Y/N, huh..pretty name. Name’s Hugh Drysdale. I live not far from here and have seen you a couple times while driving by. Care to tell me how you ended up here?”

“Why? Do I bother you?” She asked condescendingly.

He frowned, slightly irritated. “No, just wanna know because I might be of help. No need for the attitude.” He said. Ransom surprised himself by saying the word ‘I’ and ‘help’ in the same sentence. Guess there’s a first time for everything.

Y/N’s face softened immediately at the mention of help, lowering her guard. “Oh, I see.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just assumed the worst coming from a guy who has just been at a nightclub.”

So she’s noticed me too. Neat. He thought to himself. “Yeah, I go there from time to time but decided to leave early. Didn’t feel up for it today and I’m still sober, which led me to you.” Ransom explained himself. “You were gonna tell me what happened?”

Y/N sighed and lowered her head as though the mere reminder of her life story made her tired. “If you insist….- I got kicked out from my parents’ house two years ago when I turned 18 because they thought it was the perfect opportunity to let me go without legal consequences. I never had a good relationship with them to begin with as I was always seen as a burden than anything else. I then moved in with an ex-friend but it didn’t work out in the long run. Never found a job either which refrained me from finding a place and paying pay rent. I moved around a lot, from state to state. I used to live in my car but eventually had to sell it to have money for food and other things - and that leads me to where I am right now.”

Ransom shook his head, “Damn, you’ve been through a lot. All this time…having to deal with so much on your own. Must have been hard.” He said, leaning against the same wall beside her with his arms crossed. Deep down he scoffed at how little he could relate to her.

The only thing Ransom felt like he could personally relate to was on the topic of having a troubling relationship with parents. Sure, he wasn’t kicked out of his parents’ house without a bank account containing a large sum of money, but he felt the part where he was also unwanted by his parents, - not to mention by his whole family.

They all hated him and saw him as the black sheep of the family. Harlan was more patient with Ransom compared to the rest, since He was still getting his monthly allowance to continue with his foolery. In the end however, he was left by himself, which led him to realize another thing -

She has no one. Just like me.

He looked down at her from where he was standing, taking in how fragile she looked. How small and weak she was compared to him. He has - and could have anything he wanted, while she has nothing. The contrast between them made him feel something he has never felt before.

“Yeah, it sucks...I don’t want you to feel bad for me though. I have been very lucky to not have been robbed or experience…worse things. People seem to be too busy here and haven’t bothered me. It has made my time out here so much easier. I know I’ll find my place once I get out of here.” Y/N said with a smile.

Ransom hummed contently. He liked her voice. He could get used to hearing her talking about anything her heart desired. “…you know, I can tell you’re freezing just by looking at you. It would be inhumane of me to leave you here for another night. I have a spare guest room and a bathroom you could use for as much as you’d like, till you…figure out where to go from there I guess.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes that made his mind go wild with scenarios - most of them being in a sexual manner. Her in his arms as he kissed her and made her go down on her knees, looking at him with those same eyes while she sucked his-

“Oh, I really appreciate the offer Hugh, but I really don’t need your help. As of tomorrow early, I’ll be on my way to Pennsylvania where I have been offered a place.-“

The fuck?

“Its a shelter for the homeless youth, and the bus I’m taking goes in about…” she checks her watch for a brief moment. It was currently midnight. “..six hours, so I think I’ll do just fine until then. It’s exclusively on its way to where I need to be and it’d be a disaster if I missed it.” She said and chuckled to herself at the mere thought. “But like I said, it was nice of you to-!”

Before she finished her sentence, Ransom straightened his posture, moved away from the wall without sparing her a glance and walked towards his car. The car door was swung open and he slammed it closed once he was behind the wheel. Within seconds, he was back on the main road and drove his way home. His grip on the steering wheel was tight. He was trying to remain calm but he was bad at it. Thoughts and questions were irking him up even more as he got closer to his house.

SHE doesn’t NEED my help? Who the fuck did she think she was talking to? The CEO of charity case? Get the fuck out of here.

Can’t believe she’s picking a fucking homeless shelter over my offer. Ungrateful cunt. Guess she thrives on living in a shithole.

She’s a nobody. She’s nothing. She’s below what is considered a decent member of society, and yet -

she doesn’t need me.

Ransom was fueled with anger at this point. His ego was painfully bruised. He has never offered someone like her any type of service, and when he does for the first time, he’s rejected.

Furthermore, he found himself disappointed that he thought this would go somewhere. He fantasized that if she accepted, he could give her everything and she would see him as her savior from a pitiful life. And in return, he would have her as his thing. The thing that would provide him a satisfactory life. He wanted to be the only reason for her entire livelihood and her to be nothing without him. The mere thought aroused him and made him realize how sick he was, but he didn’t care. He had seen her face and it was enough for him to be sure that he wants that with her. A nobody that had nothing other than him - Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

So what’s stopping him? Who said he had to leave it at her meek rejection? His inner thoughts asked.

It was then when he decided. He was going to get her for his own pleasure, and add good intent to it.

Ransom had taken a few shots at home to calm his nerves while plotting the unthinkable inside his head.

He has had many sinister thoughts in the past during desperate times, but he never acted upon them as he always found a way around it. This time wasn’t like those other times though. It felt like a higher calling was telling him that he had to take action or else he would miss what’s right in front of him. His ticket out of a miserable spiral.

It was 02:30 in the morning, and after taking in careful consideration, he backs out of his driveway and drives downtown once again. A handkerchief and a bottle of chloroform is neatly placed on the passenger seat.

The party at the nightclub had died down by now, and most people had departed. All the lights except for the head lights were off across the whole street where Y/N was resting. She was slotted in the dark between two head lights and could barely be seen from a distance. This was a huge advantage on Ransom’s part. He parked the Beamer a little further away not to wake her. Only for a few minutes did he wait to be sure it was the right time to approach.

He picked up the bottle of chloroform, holding it away from his face as much as possible while opening it and making the handkerchief ready for use. A few drops of sweat had appeared on his forehead, probably from nervousness. This has to go as swiftly as possible or I’m out of luck.

With quiet steps he approached her, with the handkerchief sprayed with a dose of the drug in his hand.

When he was close enough, he shoved the handkerchief onto Y/N’s nose and mouth, holding her body down with his other hand causing her whole body to jolt awake, her eyes wide open and whimpering out of distress. She tried to resist and push him off but her strength was quickly drained from the drug and her eyes twitched, trying to have them remain open.

“Shhhh, it’s alright sweetheart, go back to sleep..” he cooed. Her body started to slump downwards to the ground again, but he held her back steadily and lifted her up with both of his arms. She was completely knocked out, and while he cautiously looked around for any witnesses - only to see none, he hooked her backpack on his arm with her and rushed back to the Beamer, putting her in the passenger seat. He left her sleeping bag behind, secretly hoping that It’ll add fuel to the fire and piss some people off that a homeless person had left their stuff behind like many times before.

While driving back, Ransom took quick glances at the woman he had taken while still maintaining concentration to the road. His thumb reached out to her cheek and he attempted to smear off the dust, unsuccessfully doing so.

“Don’t worry, kitten. We’ll get you all cleaned up.” He mumbled, more to himself than to her.

He laid her body in the guest room and gathered supplies for her to use in the morning. Towels, bottles of shampoo with different fragrances, a deodorant, toothpaste and a toothbrush - everything a person would need. He knew he would have to buy clothes for her too, but he wouldn’t be able to do that until tomorrow. She can wear his clothes in the meantime.

He had these extra supplies stored after his mother complained relentlessly on how little personalized the guest room was. He would argue that the extra stash was useless because he wouldn’t have any guests over in the near future.

Guess he could finally admit he was wrong. Those silly soaps with different scents would come to great use in the hands of Y/N. Or maybe in the use of his own hands roaming around her body.

While he expected her to clean herself by her own when the morning arose, he figured he could do the easy task of cleaning her face.

Fetching a clean cloak and soaking it up in semi hot water, he brought it to Y/N’s face, gently rubbing at the spots where the dust had stained her skin. He touched her hair out of curiosity and leaned in to smell if she had any odor.

He smelled something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and upon closer look he noticed her roots were stained with a tint of white. He put one and one together - she had been using baby powder to keep her hair from turning greasy and smelly after assumingely going weeks off washing her hair. Poor little thing, he thought. And she thought she would be better off at a shelter than be with me. As if that would make her life any better. How pathetic.

In a less discreet way, he removed her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt to remove her bra. The countless of women that have been over at his place would always complain leaving their bras on for the whole night, leaving their breasts sore from the restraint. With this knowledge, he had an excuse to take a peek at her breasts.

Once Ransom figured out how to remove the straps, he was met by two perky nipples staring right back at him. His mouth watered at the sight. He felt the restraint of his trousers tightening.

Less than 24 hours ago, he could be found having a threesome with two prostitutes in his king sized bed - yet, this somehow made him more easily riled up compared to the last several intercourses he has had.

His hand reached out to squeeze one of her tits. They were so soft. So beautiful. His other hand reached to his bulge, palming it with slow strokes. His breath hitched and he abruptly stopped both acts.

Fuck, get it together, Ransom. There will be a time to have her, but that will have to be after she has showered.

Buttoning her shirt back together and taking her bra with him to the dirty laundry basket, he left the guest room and went straight to his bedroom.

Through his wardrobe of clothes was an access control panel controlling the level of security he wanted the house to be on. Most doors and openable windows relied on the level of security the control panel was set to. In this case scenario, Ransom had now maximized the level of security - meaning all windows were now completely sealed and all doors leading outside would remain locked at all times - unless he typed in the code. That way, Y/N would be free to roam around the house without him being worried she might run away. The system was secured enough for her to never figure out the code. His house had large glass exterior, but thankfully there were blenders to block the outside world.

He didn’t have to worry about passerby’s seeing Y/N when he wasn’t around to keep her in check. There were hardly any people around where he lived, but he didn’t want to risk it.

He did have a basement he could put her in as well, but that would be too cruel. After all, he’s not a monster. He only has good intentions, even though some of them may be morally questionable.

Finally tucking himself into bed, he kept a smirk on his face as he let his eyes finally rest. The morning excited him. He was prepared that Y/N would be defensive and show resistance, but he was determined to put her in her place and make her see his way. -

Make her realize she needs him, make her crave him for his riches and understand that only through him she can be a somebody.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[georgiapeach30513]

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

We’re back with some more smutty, kinky, and dark fun for the month of October.  These one shots are not from any existing AU.  These will get very dark so read ALL warnings before hand.  My blog is an 18+ ONLY space.  All minors and hate will be blocked.  This is fiction, have fun.  This year I’m introducing a few more characters instead of just Chris and Sebastian characters...

Ablutophilia with Chris Beck Breath Play with Ari Levinson Candaulism with Nick Vaughan Dacryphilia with Mike Weiss Ejaculating Toy with Chase Collins Forced Voyeurism with Nick Fowler Grooming with Napoleon Solo Hate Sex with Ransom Drysdale Innocence Kink with Frank Adler Jealousy with William ‘Ironhead’ Miller Key Party with Andy Barber Lactation Kink with Jake Jensen Mutual Masturbation with Mickey Henry Non-Con with Jax Teller Objectification with Lance Tucker  Possessive Behavior with Angel Reyes Quirt with Steve Kemp Ravishment Fantasy with Jefferson Somnophilia with Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes Tea Bagging with Dean Winchester & Soldier Boy Uteromania with Justin Capshaw Vampire Gloves with Sam Winchester Water Play with Captain Syverson  Xenophilia with Tyler Rake Yandere with August Walker Zipper Dinner with Lloyd Hansen Electrostimulation with Mr. Freezy Harpaxophilia with Curtis Everett Housewife Kink with Clark Kent Kidnapping with Walter Marshall Coercion with Carter Baizen & Bryce Langley

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #dark!fic #smutty fanfiction #chris beck #mike weiss #nick vaughan #ari levinson #chase collins #nick fowler #napoleon solo #ransom drysdale #frank adler #william miller #andy barber #jake jensen #mickey henry #jax teller #lance tucker #angel reyes #steve kemp #jefferson #steve rogers #bucky barnes #dean winchester #soldier boy #justin capshaw #sam winchester #captain syverson #tyler rake