#ransom drysdale smut
Oooh for naughty November can I request number 7 with Ransom and Dewdrop??
attention whore~ ransom drysdale
pairing ~ sugardaddy!ransom drysdale x sugarbaby!reader (dewdrop au)
warnings ~ smut, 18+ ONLY, daddy kink, public sex, pain kink, dom/sub dynamics, choking kink, anal fingering, unprotected sex, some possessive ransom, jealous reader, lack of lube, ransom being an asshole to reader’s (toxic) friends
prompt ~ “Speak up. You weren’t shy when you were acting up.”
Ransom knew something was up the second you had huffed in response to him as the extravagant engagement party buzzed around Ransom’s mansion. The mansion had been a gift, to Ransom and you from Harlan himself. He figured the expensive home you were already living in wasn’t enough, so Ransom had taken his offer.
So of course the first thing Ransom and his select members of his family decided to do with the mansion was throw a big party, for you, of course.
But it wasn’t that, not really. It was all of Ransom’s friends, some family, old buddies, and you. You got your group of friends, who didn’t even approve our your relationship with Ransom, and parents that came for ten minutes to tell you were meant for this life.
You were beyond fed up with chaos in the house but you were living with it. You were gonna be a good girl and let them celebrate your engagement…but god, did they even know you were here?
“This is how your life will always be,”Killian whispered in your ear.”Ransom is nowhere to be found, last I saw him, a pack of girls from high school were surrounding him. Who’s to say he isn’t giving one of them—“
“He wouldn’t!”You snapped at Killian.”Ransom loves me, and I love him. We’re loyal to each other. This party has nothing to do with my relationship.”
“It’s an engagement party, Y/N,”He snapped back.”Most couples stay together during that, they show off the ring, they kiss, and rub it in everyone’s faces. Where even is the ring?”
“It’s getting readjusted, it’s an old ring, I want it in best condition, Ran said he was working on it,.”
“Why if he never gives it back? Where even is he?”
The voices all around started to crowd your mind and something in you just clicks. You abandoned your friends, already having gotten under your skin and in your mind about things.
You find Ransom surround by women, one in particular you remember being his ex-girlfriend. Why would he invite her? Why is she sitting so close to him—
You move before you can’t think, and Ransom doesn’t realize there until you’re clearing your throat.
“Oh, dewdrop, I was just about to come look for you.”
You huffed at him,”Oh were you? Because I’ve waiting for you all fucking night, but instead, I got earful of a list of reasons I shouldn’t marry a Drysdale, and guess what number one was?”
“Dew…”Ransom stood up, hoping to pull you away so that you didn’t make a scene but instead, you didn’t let him touch you.
“Where is he? That’s the number one reason. It’s our engagement party and I haven’t seen you in hours,”You turned to the girl beside you, and you know her pretty well. She was the girl before Ransom met you. “I’m starting to see why, maybe I should go home, I doubt anyone here actually knows who the bride is anyway, you can just chang—
Ransom captured your jaw with his hand, pulling you dangerously close to him to the point you can feel his breath, his warmth.
“Don’t.”Ransom spat, not caring that anyone could see him or hear him.”Everything I do is for you.”
“Prove it,”You quipped back, pushing his hands away from you in defiance.
“Clara here, while she may be my ex, she is also the jewelry restoration expert, and she brought this by, for you.”
Ransom opened the box in his hand, the glimmering ring fully restored for you. You go to take it, but Ransom snaps the case closed and quickly pushes you against the wall. His hands encircled your throat lightly, his dominance overtaking you in a way that makes your panties dampen at his sheer power.
“You done with your temper tantrum, huh? Made enough of a scene haven’t you?”
“Yes…”You say so quietly.
“Fuck, you’ve been a brat all day,”Ransom rasped, his lips hovering over your ear.”Daddy’s been watching you, and you’ve been so ungrateful, baby, stomping around because you don’t have my attention, is that what you want?”
You didn’t answer, which only made him chuckle darkly before his hand smacked across your cheek. He then grabbed you by the jaw almost painfully. Ransom knew what he was doing, how you ache for him as the pain breeds anticipation. The sting went straight to your core, lighting a fire inside your tummy that only he could put out.
“Speak up, dewdrop,”Ransom growled, dominance radiating off of him. His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes hard and blown at the sight of you ruined in front of him.”You weren’t shy when you were acting up. Tell daddy what you want, we both know how spoiled my girl is, you know I’ll give it to you.”
“Hm, and you think this little brat act will get my attention?”
You glance away in shame, cheeks heating up under his gaze. Ransom is patient and expects an answer.”I…yes.”
Ransom smirked,”You should be careful what you wish for. You’re gonna act like a little attention whore, then why don’t you put on a little show.”
Ransom’s thick fingers released you, capturing your wrist and pulling you to the couch that sat near the center of the party. He fell back on it, ignoring all the glances from his friends and your friends as you stand in front of him.
He licked his lips, darkened eyes slowly admiring your pretty body. Ransom didn’t make a move, merely just leaned back and spread his arms over the couch.”Go on, dewdrop, take whatever you want. You wanna show ‘em who I belong to, do it.”
You didn’t need another second to think, not with how confident and unashamed Ransom had taught you to be. You surged forward, straddling him as your lips crashed against him in needy fashion. Ransom devoured your kiss, his hands rushing to the fabric of your dress. He bunched up the pretty fabric, revealing your naked core dragging over the rough jeans covering his cock. Your hands were working over the buttons and within moments, you have Ransom’s cock pressed against your soaking cunt.
“I need it, daddy, please, can I have you?” You gasped inti his mouth, earning a quick nod while Ransom grabbed a handful of ass before rubbing the pad of his index finger over the puckered hole.
You had wrapped your hand around him, spitting down to soak his cock as you stroke him a couple times. His cock throbbed, thickened and ached for you. You lift your hips up, begging Ransom to fuck you as you brushed the lips of your pussy over the angry red tip. Just as you were about to breach your clenching cunt, Ransom stops you.
“Yes, baby, but,”Ransom seized your throat righting in his palm, and fuck, the whine that left your mouth was absolutely sinful.”You don’t cum, little whore like you don’t cum until daddy does. You make me cum, you please me like the good fucktoy you are and I’ll pound your precious cunt until you can’t walk.”
With one quick motion, you sheathed his cocky inside your quivering pussy. You cried out, earning the attention of everyone in the room. Ransom chuckled, letting go of your neck and instead, he pulled the tight dress down to expose your beautiful body. Your tits had a little bounce to them as you fucked yourself on his cock, going up and down over and over.
Ransom took in the sight, his precious fiancée taking his cock in front of all their friends. He smirked when he caught a glimpse of your best friend, the jealously in his eyes as you threw your head back with Ransom’s name on your lips. Ransom stared him down maliciously , keeping eye contact as his lips trailed over your neck.
“Daddy…yes, fuck,”You gasped when you feel pressure on your tightest hole, teasing at the sinful entrance.
“Louder,”Ransom groaned deeply, your hands clutching at his shirt while you practically jumping on his cock.”Tell them how much you love daddy’s fat cock ruining you, how much you love when I violate every inch of your body.”
You cried out with a choked gasp, gulping for air when Ransom pressed his digit into your pretty little hole, using your slick as lubricant. You feel full, cock nuzzled in your pushy and fingers in your ass. You whimpered at the pain, the sweet endorphins intoxicating you with every movement. His cock pulsed inside your hot pussy, aching for the heat to consume him.
“I love your cock,”You whined almost incoherently, but it earns you a harsh smack to the flesh of your ass. It only make you gush around his cock, squeezing the massive intrusion between your soft walls.”I love it, fuck, I love when you ruin me, when you wreck and use me, ‘m all yours, daddy, to fuck when you want, any time, any day, in anyway you want. That’s how much I love your cock, I need it, daddy.”
“Atta girl,”Ransom rasped, seizing your hips in a harsh grip and forcing you down on his cock one last time. His moan echoed, eyes on your sweaty body as he ignored the way your friends looked at him like he was the worst. They didn’t know how much you wanted to cum right now, they didn’t how fucking wet you are knowing all of them are watching Ransom wreck you with no effort.”Beg for it,”Ransom whispered, lips grazing against yours.”Beg for my cum.”
“Give it to me, please, fuck, wanna be dripping with your seed, till I’m all messy and ready for you to fuck again and again, mark me, daddy…”You had to slow yourself, trying not to cum as he pushed a second finger into your pretty ass. Slowly, he moves his fingers, in and out while you nearly collapse on top of him.
“God, you’re such a fucking slut,”Ransom chuckled, biting at your bottom lip teasingly before forcing you to roll your hips against him. Your clit rubbed just slightly against him, making your things tremble. You try to pace yourself, to refrain from bliss that is so so close.
“Daddy, please, cum, cum, cum,” You nearly cry, tears in your eyes from the pain of being stretched and fucked. The grip around his cock is tight, clinging to his massive girth like a vice, as if your cunt never wants him to leave. Your chants are incoherent, just whimpers and whines for Ransom until he finally explodes inside your weeping pussy. Your whispers turns into thank you’s because daddy taught his girl to be grateful when her pussy gets ruined.
“Good girl,”Ransom praised, leaning in to capture your swollen lips against his. He kissed you with everything in his, stealing the breathe from your lungs. He can feel his cum leaking down his cock from the heat of your pussy, white liquid dripping down around his balls.”Milked daddy’s cock like a good slut, now why don’t you clean me up too?”
You didn’t even reply, obediently moving to pull his cock from your heat. You clench around nothing, yearning for the orgasm you had been denied. You maneuver to the floor, kneeling in front of him.
People around you gasped at the sight, surprised that you were taking this to the bedroom now. With your pussy leaking cum, you bend over with your ass out for everyone to see.
Your pussy just pulses more when you realize all the eyes are on you. Everyone watches in fascination or horror as your mouth encompasses his cum covered cock. You lapped up the sticky fluid, drinking it up as you feel his cock quiver under your tongue. You flattened your tongue against his balls, suckling on the sack while his cock was already growing hard again.
Ransom glanced over at Killian, a dark smile on his face as he ran a hand over your hair.”Such a pretty girl with a cock in her mouth, isn’t she? Too bad you’ll never get to experience something so…beautiful, cause this little slut is all mine, you can watch, but fuck, you’ll never touch.”
You just barely glance up, making eye contact with your best friend before taking the entirety of Ransom’s cock down your throat when Ran pushes you down further. Killian averts his eyes now, huffing out and stomping off.
You hallow your cheeks, sucking and licking as you breathe through your nose.
“Come so far, baby, remember when you couldn’t even take half my cock, now look at you, a proper cockslut,”Ransom pulled you off his cock, drool and cum pooling from your lips as he pulled you by your neck to kiss him.”Think it’s time I keep my promise, though, tell me, dewdrop, you’d rather I fuck your cunt or this cute little ass?”
You licked your lips, breathing heavily with your chest heaving.”Can I have both?” You asked with long lashes batting at Ransom.”Fuck me, Daddy, then fuck me again, till I’m nothing but your brainless whore.”
“Fucking hell, you really are the one.”
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Wonderful and Warm
Way too Nice
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP- ninja and puppy)
Words: ~1.5 k
Summary: You and Ransom arrive at the resort and break in your villa.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, cream pie, dirty pictures, outdoor sex, multiple orgasms), fluff, idiots in love, I’m a big old tease, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: They’re so adorable, you guys!! The fluff with them is going to kill me before the year is out. At least I can take you all with me.
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!
You couldn’t stop giggling while Ransom nibbled on your jaw as the cart drove you to your villa, slapping his chest playfully when he tried to pull you into his lap as you kept an eye on the driver who was pointedly not looking at you. Apparently your accommodations were well away from the rest of the family, the cart going halfway around the mountain before finally coming to a stop in front of a tucked away villa surrounded by gorgeous trees and flowers.
“Fuck me.” You whistled when you followed the attendant into the foyer, walking all the way back through the open air lounge until you reached the back patio and exclaiming some more. “Shit, look at this view!”
“I see it.” Ransom couldn’t stop staring at you as he walked to join you outside, winding his arms around you from behind and nuzzling at your neck as he let out a pleased hum. “Beautiful.”
“Yeah. Stop, I wanna wash the plane off me before we start fooling around. This is so damn nice.” You slipped off a sandal and dipped your toes into the warm water of the infinity pool, sighing when you looked at the swing that was hanging over the water. “Too nice. I’m gonna have to talk to Harlan about this, we can’t ask him to pay for all this. What, are you gonna pro…”
He couldn’t let you finish that thought, very aware of the ring he’d hidden in his luggage and fighting off a wave of panic. So he did the first thing he thought of and dove into the pool with you still wrapped in his arms while you let out a shriek.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” You slapped his chest and arms as the two of you rose above the water again, shoving him off when he tried to kiss you while he laughed heartily. “You goddamn asshole.”
“What? We’ve gotta break this whole villa in, figured the pool was a good place to start.” He finally caught you and started pressing kisses all over the curve of your neck, grinning when he felt you relax in his arms as the two of you floated lazily in the water. “C’mon, with the sunset and everything? Lemme see how pretty that sweet little pussy looks in this light, bet it’s better than the damn view.”
“You fucking sweet talker.” You couldn’t stop from grinning when he nibbled on your ear, wrapping your body around his as he swam both of you towards the edge of the pool. “You wanna see your girl, puppy?”
“Always, goddamn.” He set you on the edge of the edge of the pool and growled when he struggled to pull your soaked clothes off you, regretting his impulse to jump into the pool now. “She fucking needs me.”
He finally got your leggings and panties off and whined when you spread your legs to frame his shoulders, biting at the insides of your thighs and purring as he watched you throb right in front of his face. You ran your fingers through his wet hair as he started pressing open mouth kisses all over your cunt, slurping up the slick that was leaking out of you with greedy moans as he worked you over methodically.
It hardly took anything for him to get you to the state he wanted you in, your folds puffy and swollen and flushed with heat after only a few minutes of soft attention from him. When he pulled the soft petals of your sex apart and dragged his tongue over your slit in a heavy stripe you collapsed back on your elbows, whimpering pathetically as arousal poured out of you until his face was coated in it.
A deep, appreciative groan made his lips vibrate against you when he dove in deeper, spearing his tongue as far as he could into your tight hole and curling it until he felt you shiver for him. The way his face was pressed against you had his nose rubbing against your swollen clit, the tiny bud throbbing against him as he kept fucking you with his tongue while you rolled your hips into his face.
When he dragged his tongue out of you and replaced it with a nimble finger, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently at the same time, your whole body arched violently into his face. The sharp cry that fell from your lips only spurred him on, pushing himself knuckle deep and stroking your walls softly until he found that perfect spot that had your heels thumping against his back.
“Ran, oh god, Ran.” Your thighs snapped close around his ears when he added a second finger, his hand and his lips working in tandem to make your squirm against his mouth. “I’m… I’m gonna… fuck!”
He didn’t even move his face when he muttered “do it” into your cunt, groaning when you started fluttering and pulsing around his fingers as even more sweet nectar flowed out of you to be lapped up by his eager tongue. His fingers kept stroking that sweet spot as you rode it out, making your whole body quake with bliss as you let out a wanton shriek that seemed to echo off the side of the mountain.
As soon as he felt you sag against the deck he was peeling off his soaked sweats in a frenzy, pulling himself out of the water in a rush and stretching his whole body over yours as he smashed his lips to yours desperately while you clutched at his shoulders. There wasn’t any chance for you to even take a breath before he was plunging into you, his hips meeting yours with one vicious thrust that had you crying into his mouth as your limbs wrapped around him on instinct.
“That’s it, my good fucking girl.” He gave a dirty grind against you and you wailed, your nails digging into the bunching muscles of his back as he started slamming into you like a man possessed. “Fuck, I love this hungry little pussy, gonna keep her well fed the whole fucking week. Tell me who she belongs to, baby.”
“Unh… mm… your pussy, Ran.” You tilted your head back and gasped when he slid a hand under your hips and tilted you slightly, the way he was hitting you so fucking deep making it feel like your insides were constantly being rearranged. “Ransom…”
“I know, honey, all mine.” He traced the curve of your jaw with his tongue before pressing wet kisses along the column of your throat, purring when he felt you starting to tremble in his arms. “And this is your fucking cock, so you’d better keep him nice and warm and wet. Come for me, now.”
You let out a hoarse whine as you gave yourself over, your muscles quivering and releasing as you gushed all over Ransom’s cock and squirted against his abs. He sank his teeth into your jaw and growled as he followed you, his hips stuttering as he shot his warm cum against your fluttering walls while you painted desperately underneath him.
When you were finished the two of you collapsed against each other, your chests heaving in complementary rhythms as Ransom nuzzled at the hollow of your throat and let out a quiet hum of satisfaction. You smiled when he moved his face back to yours and rubbed his nose against your own, his cheeks flushed and a slightly wild look in his eyes that was covered up slightly by his hair falling across his face. He was beautiful.
“Don’t move.” He gave you a peck on the lips before rising to his feet, wobbling a little as he wandered to where he had set down his phone while you just laughed softly.
“Ran, seriously?” You were still grinning when he slid back into the water and held his phone carefully above the lapping waves, wading to where you were still spread open obscenely at the edge of the pool. “You and your fucking photos.”
“Don’t act like I didn’t warn you.” He grinned as he nipped at the inside of your thigh, snapping a picture of his cum leaking out of your swollen cunt in the golden evening light and humming appreciatively. “You think you can sit up? I want one with your tits in the shot.”
“Fucking perv.” You nudged his shoulder with your toe as you sat up and leaned on wobbly arms, arching your back in that way he loved as he got his shot and let out a low moan. “So this is gonna be a thing, then?”
“Yep.” He popped the p and tossed his phone back on one of the lounge chairs before pulling you closer, winding his arms around your waist and floating backwards with his lips pressed to yours so the two of you could watch the sun set at the opposite edge of the pool. “I’m thinking we’re gonna a get a shot of that sweet little pussy every hour for the next day, wanna figure out which light she looks best in.”
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Tongue in Cheek
Summary: You call Andy to complain about your vibe dying on you but he's already two steps ahead of you. What's better than a new vibe? One designed by the man himself.
Pairing: CEO Andy x reader
Word Count: 2.1K (seriously was supposed to be a drabble)
Warnings: Mutual masturbation, toys, voyer Andy and his praise kink, dom Andy.
A/N: First Thirstday drabble. Thank you @its-just-may for the banners.
Andy shuts the door to his temporary office, his Swedish counterparts had provided him with a private space on the top floor that included a lounge and full sized bathroom.
Not that he expected anything less, they all know that if he wants, he can kick the CEO out of his office and taken over. Especially since he had to leave his headquarters to fix their mess. Drysdale is already skating on thin ice, and Everett wants his head on a platter. The image of the smug playboy’s face with a charred apple between his lips like a trussed up pig sends a smile across Andy’s face.
It’s the first time he’s shown any emotion other than boredom, frustration or disdain since he’s arrived. But what can anyone expect when he’s an ocean away from his girl?
Speaking of his girl, you should be calling any second to tell him how all your toys aren't working. He should feel a little bad for sabotaging you but if all goes according to plan, you'll be thanking him soon enough.
Andy feels his personal phone vibrate and his smile grows into something more genuine. Fuck, you have good timing. Only a handful of people have this number and all of them, but you go straight to voice-mail.
Locking the door, he grabs his phone and loosens his indigo blue tie. A quick slide of his finger across the screen and you appear.
“Evening honey,” his baritone voice crawls over you like a thick and comforting blanket, full of love, desire and need.
You missed him. You miss him so much. He’s inn your veins, every breath you take is centered around him, Andy Barber. Even through a screen, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever encountered, his presence filling the room. You’re laying on sheets that smell like him, wearing his soft flannel shirt.
His thick beard glowing in the natural light pouring through the floor to ceiling windows, his auburn hair tousled enough to add an edge to his professional appearance.
But it’s the hint of black ink swirling past his cuffs to his thick wrists and around his collar touching the bottom of his throat that let everyone know the rumors about Mr. Barber are true.
“Hey baby,” you reply softly, scooting backwards until your back hits the headboard.
His eyes flicker past you, a hint of devious amusement flickers in his darkened blues and you know he’s looking at the damage you caused to his headboard the night he left, not that it was your fault, anyone would have lost it after the third orgasm.
His eyes settle back on you, and the entertained expression bleeds out, leaving a knowing expression.
“What do you need, honey?” He asks sitting back in an expensive dark leather chair, placing his phone on the desk so he can focus all his attention on you. “My sweet girl’s missing me, isn’t she?”
His question, more of a statement really, pierces your chest. You miss him so fucking much it hurts, it’s palpable and growing and aching inside you.
So you tell him about your day and how your night is going or rather how its not going. You tried to mimic his touch, using your vibrator, it wasn’t enough, but you were so desperate to cum you would take the weak substitute. Then it fucking died. Leaving you worked up and even more frustrated than when you started.
Andy laughs under his breath, hiding his smile with his large ring adorned hand as he listens to you. Sweet, sweet girl. He wants to tell you how much he understands, his fist is nothing compared to your tight pussy or mouth.
“Hold on. I got something for you.” Andy takes his work phone, holding up a placating finger before shooting off an urgent text to your bodyguard. His eyes trail down your body with a pleased hum, you’re wearing his favorite shirt and nothing else. “I’m going to give you an hour.”
“I wish I had more time, but an hour is all you’re going to get greedy girl.” He’s teasing, knowing his cryptic response is adding to your frustration.
“Greedy? I haven’t even asked you for anything? How am I-.” You startle at the sounds of a loud staccato knock on the door. Andy merely smiles at your confused expression, gesturing for you to answer it.
You slide off the California king bed and pad across the hardwood floor, the twinkling, muted city lights peeking in from the expansive wall to wall window behind your guides your path across the dark room. Passing the ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet that’s bigger than your former apartment, you reach the door, slowing turning the knob, you peek your head out of the crack. Your brows draw together in disconcertion. “Um hi?”
Steve nods at you once, muttering your name in a polite greeting. He holds up a medium-sized blue box with a bow on top. Pushing it toward you with the clear expectation that he wants you to take it. Boss’s orders and all. No one defies Andy, not when to comes to you.
“Thank you,” you respond slowly, taking the box from his hands. Another nod and he’s halfway down the hallway.
You nudge the door shut with your hip and sprint back to the bed where you left Andy staring up at the ceiling. Grabbing the phone, you place the box on your lap. Gasping sharply when you see his shirt and tie are off, his bare tattooed chest on display.
“Open it,” he encourages, there’s something in his tone that makes you shiver. “And honey,” he starts, astutely watching you peel back the layers of fine paper. “You don’t have to ask me for anything. I always know what you want What you need. And I’m always going to make sure you’re satisfied and happy in every way possible. “
Your mouth goes dry and your heart patters erratically in your chest. A furious rush of anticipation floods your veins at his confident statement and at the vibrator sitting prettily in your hand.
You can almost see his smirk as you asses the toy. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before and Andy has an impressive collection of toys he likes to use on you. It’s curved and smooth and soft, a fresh clean scent wafting off it. Your fingers trace the weighted, unusually wide base that curves away from it. It’s a gorgeous color, your favorite color perfectly blended into the silicone, and the underside has-holy fuck, how in the hell?
Andy chuckles, the deep sound echoing across the bedroom. “I had this custom made just for you. It’s designed to fit on your pretty pussy and yes, that’s all me honey. Don’t worry, I checked and cleaned it myself, go on and touch it.”
Your eyes flicker from the silicone tongue with an indentation in the middle of it to Andy’s face, he deliberate and slowly drags his real, wet and wide tongue across his plump bottom lip.
“Fuuuck.” You were already so wet just from his voice alone, but this has you dripping all over his sheets. “Andy please I-“
You don’t know exactly what you’re asking for, but he does.
Andy orders you to lie back with your head elevated on a few pillows after you prop your phone up, giving him the perfect view of your glistening pussy.
“Spread your legs wider, move up. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You clench down at his gruff command and he groans, his blue eyes hone in your cunt, gazing at it like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Put it on my pussy now.” His breaths are harsh, rapid. The slow clink of his zipper fills the silence while you grab the toy with your shaky hand. The way he’s dominating without touching you, without being near you, is enough to make you cum untouched.
You set on your pussy and it fits perfectly between your folds. You suddenly undertake the wide base, it’s so it can sit on the bed without you holding it. Hands-free.
“Oh god fuck me.” You repeat softly, shifting your hips until the-his-tongue rests on your wet, heated skin, right on your clit. “Fuck me.”
That’s going to feel good. You just know it.
“Oh, I plan on it.” The smug tone catches your attention.
“How do I turn it on it?” You were so excited, you didn’t even look for a button.
Andy raises one brow, his lips tugging into a smirk. His fist wraps around his thick cock, leaning back to let you see his swollen head leaking precum on one large hand and a stylish platinum remote in the other. “You. Don’t. I own your pretty little pussy, including every orgasm she gets.”
Your breath falters in your chest, a ‘please’ forming on the tip of your tongue when he taps the remote, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Oh, fuck!” The words rip from your chest, slipping past your parted lips, back arching off the bed until you’re nearly levitating.
That tongue, that damn tongue, feels just like Andy’s.
Vibrations pulse through your clit like a drum, the tongue sweeping over you with deadly precision. Heat pools in your belly, growing with every flick of his tongue on your throbbing clit.
Andy observes you intently, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, turning up the vibrations and changing the motion of the tongue until you’re writhing on the bed.
“Andyandyandyfuck,” you chant, the coil winding painfully tight in your lower belly. “Jesus fuck, that feels so good”
“I know honey, I know it does.” He says with pride, this is how he likes you, mindless with pleasure, crying out his name like it’s the only one that’s matters. And it is.
He tries another setting, and it’s instantly his favorite.
A pulsating sensation wraps around your clit and it drags you under a wave of pure, raw, and heady bliss. Your stomach tenses, hands curling into tight fists hitting the bed, twisting in the sheets, whatever you were about to cry out ends up a choked grunt. The oversized shirt falls over your shoulders, revealing your chest, his hand pumps his cock faster, listening to your moans.
“Play with your tits, sweet girl,” he demands, his voice deepening, almost gravelly with need. The wet slick sounds of your pussy driving his hips into his fist.
“Good girl,” he praises when your fingers roll your sensitive pebbled nipples.
“Too mu-much- fuck, that’s too much, I can’t take it, please Andy.” You sob, even as your traitorous hips circle and push your spasming cunt into the toy.
“No,” he drawls. “You can take it. In fact, sweet girl...” He trails off with a low chuckle, raking his teeth across his lip. You instinctively know what he’s going to do and you’re not ready for him. You’re never ready for him. Andy turns it up a notch and you feel the sensation flood your veins.
“See honey, I know what you need. And if you can take my cock, you can take a little toy.” He chuckles. “Tight little thing can take a pounding, can’t she? No matter how many times I split you on my cock, you’re still so fucking tight.” He groans, imagining its your pussy wrapped around him.
Pleasure sears through you like a knife almost bordering on pain, part of you wants to rip the toy away from you but your body is locking up and you can’t move.
“Look at your greedy little pussy.” He says more to himself than you, his hand tight around his cock, his release building with every stroke. “She’s gonna be a good girl and cum for me. Cum for me, go on sweet girl”
The coil that’s been winding inside you frays with each lick across your clit until it splinters, your orgasm surging through your body. Your eyes scrunch shut and colors bloom behind your lids, a thin keen escapes your lips. The sight of your orgasm triggers his own, and he spills into his head with a low, drawn-out grunt.
Andy quickly lowers the setting, letting you ride out your high, your hands squeezing your breasts as the aftershocks erupt inside you. He mercifully shuts it off when you whimper.
You feel incredible. Lightheaded and woozy and breathless. And- and- fuck you can’t think. You break into giggles, running your hands across your belly. You can’t begin to describe how good that feels. Reaching down with your trembling hand, your fingers brush the edge of the toy, freezing in place at his low tsk.
“That was only,” he turns his wrist to look at his watch. “Huh. Ten minutes.”
His eyes swing back to you. “I promised you an hour and you know I mean what I say. Lay back and keep those legs open for me.”
You slowly ease back on the pillows, your eyes widening. There’s no way you’re going to survive another 50 minutes. You can’t wait.
“We still have a dozen setting to try and honey by the time I'm done with my pussy, I want you and my sheets ruined."
Comments and reblogs are cherished. Thanks for reading.
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Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Summary: The reader blindsided her husband with a request he never thought she would even ask for
"Chris I want a divorce"
My husband froze in his tracks trying to figure out if he had heard me correctly. Chris had just returned home from his evening walk with Dodger and I didn't hesitate to blurt out the request
"Pardon?" he removed the harness from patient dog that sat at his father's feet, giving him a few head scratches after the process
"I, Y/N Evans, would like to get a divorce" his features morphed in to one of hurt and confusion
Nice going Y/N
"Can we at least talk about what I did or didn't do to make you come to the conclusion that our marriage has come to an end?" straightening himself Chris crossed his arms over his broad chest, his icy blues scanning my face, still uncertain about what's happening between us
"You did nothing wrong Christopher, in fact you did everything and more than I could ever thank you for but.." sighing I leaned against the back of the sofa, Dodger came over and laid at my feet
"But what?" cocking an eyebrow he patiently waited for me to continue
"Adele's new album just dropped and I'd like to listen to this while bawling my eyes out over a tub of Ben and Jerry's" I couldn't hold back my laugh at the exasperated look on his handsome features, he really did think that I wanted to walk away from us
"You little minx" he took three long strides over to where I stood laughing uncontrollably. Chris effortlessly hoisted me up into his arms, I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist, fingers locking at the back of his neck
"You are unbelieveable, you know that? I frigging thought that you really didn't want to be my wife anymore" I kissed his subbly cheek and looked at him
"I should become an actress, that performance was truly outstanding" he rolled his eyes, still upset that I messed with him like that
"It was, you nearly gave me a heart attack when I walked in"
"So....." his eyebrows drew together, awaiting the rest of my sentence
"Is that a yes?" wordlessly he moved around the sofa, not taking his eyes off of my face once
"No" squealing my back hit the soft padding of the massive sofa, Chris was already headed for the kitchen; my obnoxious laugh filling the quiet house
"I'M BEGGING YOU CHRIS!"
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𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 - 𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭
warnings: smut, masturbation (f receiving), nomad steve rogers x reader, somnophilia, 18+ reader
summary: you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep, so you have steve help you…
a/n: do not steal my work, it’s all my own. 18+ only, minors do not interact!
you awoke from your deep sleep with a sigh. a dream that you had forgotten right as you tried remembering it, was what had awakened you. you took a quick glance to your right, seeing the clock on your nightstand gleaming 3:38 A.M. looking to your left, you saw your boyfriend’s big figure, as he lay on his stomach. you could hear his soft breathing, in and out. seeing him so peaceful made you feel guilty.
because you weren’t feeling so peaceful. seeing steve and his shirtless figure gave you butterflies. god he was sexy. you turned to your side and ran your hand softly up and down his broad back. his skin felt warm under your touch. a mischievous smile suddenly formed on your lips as you thought of the naughtiest plan you could at 3 in the morning.
you made sure steve wasn’t looking towards you, not that it mattered, but his head was turned to the opposite side of the bed. you peeked under the covers to search for his left hand, and carefully lifted it from under the sheets to grasp it under your own. his hand felt heavy in your palm, and you turned it ever so slowly as to not wake him up. you held it under your own left hand and let it run over your stomach to rest on top of your clothed mound.
you lifted the waistband the pair of boxers you wore to bed, (courtesy of steve’s underwear drawer), and slid his hand the rest of the way down. this was downright dirty, and whether steve woke up from this or not didn’t seem to bother you.
with your hand still placed perfectly on top of his, you used his middle finger to pump in and out of your entrance. almost as if you were playing the piano, in this case you were the piano, and your hand was helping to teach him how to play it.
“fuck” you whispered, still acknowledging that he was asleep.
steve was stirring a bit, his legs shifting underneath the blankets.
you suddenly felt the coil in your stomach beginning to form.
steve made a noise in his sleep, but you were too focused on dealing with your own pleasure to notice.
“what are you doing baby?” his hoarse voice whispered to you.
“i woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, so i thought you’d help me tire out” you whispered back.
“all you had to do was ask” he replied, and you could see his cocky grin in the moonlight.
he removed his fingers for a quick second so he could prop himself up and take care of you the right way. with his right elbow holding him up he focused on your eyes as his middle and ring finger began to go to work.
he pumped them in and out, praising you for being a good girl as he finished you off.
“tell me what you want baby” steve said as he noticed you trying to hold in your moans
“use your words, i know you can”
“faster steve please” you moaned out, staring into his beautiful blue eyes.
he began to work at you faster until you began to come undone beneath him.
“there you go sweetheart, i got you” he praised, as he continued to get you through your high.
steve’s fingers slowed down retreating from your body, and he brought them up to his own mouth. he licked them clean as he fixed your shorts back up. steve pulled you close and snuggled into your body, knowing you were already drifting off.
“i love you honey” you whispered.
“i love you too sweetheart” he whispered back, giving a quick kiss to your forehead as you both fell back asleep in each other’s arms.
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i never learn (1)
summary: two people meet at a jazz lounge; then again at burlesque performance. he let you slip away once, and he made sure to earn your time before you could even think to do something like that again. strangers to lovers with skeletons buried in the closet, the basement–but it’s all in the name of loyalty, intellect, and power.
pairing: mob!andy barber x woc!reader
word count: 21.5k (apologies, friends–self indulgent!!)
warnings: heavy!mafia/mob allusions, violence (mentions of blood, fluids, injuries), cursing, drinking, foreign languages (italian & spanish), nsfw smut 18+: two scenes, rough/desperate/needy sex, sex without a condom (numerous times), oral (f receiving), exhibitionism allusions (depends on how you look at it, just in case), praise kink, slight!degrading kink, slight!breeding kink, hair pulling, choking, sloppy kissing, slight!submissive/dominant roleplay allusions, slight!submissive/dominant space allusions, & spanking
Never forget that–above all–you’re one of the good ones, Andy.
Alcohol doesn’t make his head spin like it used to, and a whisper in his veins tells him that this reality will remain unchanging for the foreseeable future. Though this is true, he nurses the drink anyway; it’ll numb something within him to turn the charm on, forget about the dirty work he had to partake in not even an hour before he had to be here.
You’re one of the good ones, Andy.
Scoffing behind his glass, he tries to ignore his mother’s voice fluttering about his mind. Andy was a lot of things, but these days–good didn’t necessarily feel like one of them. However, he’s grown detached from the thought, because being good hasn’t done anything to get him this far. Being good wasn’t inside the legacy he was crafting after accepting his father’s torch. Being good was for when he retired.
If he managed to make it there.
Julian. He’s pretty sure the bartender’s name is Julian when looking at him. With eyebrows raised and a damp rag in his hands, he gestures to Andy’s near empty glass.
Taking a glance at the racks of bottles behind the kid, Andy ponders whether or not the burn without the blissful high would be worth it.
He needs to be sociable tonight–network to clarify and expand his territory. There was new money in town now, and he’d rather squash the bugs outside before they start infesting his home.
I love your father, but remember you’re not him, my sweet boy.
So, he’s attending this event to make his face known; he’s seated at the bar instead of mingling of course, but he’s making his face known nonetheless.
Attaching a face to a name means knowing what to expect: when passing by, when purposefully meeting, when one's dues need to be paid. Attaching the face to the name is the warning, so for what comes next–the chips must fall where they so choose.
Andy didn’t want the anonymous mask–where a pseudonym makes someone shiver; he didn’t want to be his father. He was better than Big Bad Billy, smarter.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll have another,” Andy mutters noncommittally, shifting in his seat to reach for his wallet but Julian simply shakes his head. On the house was something he doesn’t think he’ll get used to, and although he’s found confidence—Andy doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to his position in society despite working so relentlessly to get it. So, he says what he always says when his reputation grants him elite privileges, ones he despised when he watched his own father abuse them. “Thanks.”
“Anything for ya, Mr. Barber! Mr. Abrahms says so,” Julian smiles briefly, taking the glass and napkin away before leaving to get another drink; from the knowing look Andy received, he was sure the drink returned to him would be a double.
Letting out a small scoff of a laugh at the familiar name, Andy shakes his head to himself and glances down at his watch to check the time. 11:03pm. It’s late enough that he wishes he were home, but not late enough to wonder why the main event of tonight hasn’t started yet. Criminals and their need for the late hour rendezvous.
As he waits, he takes in his surroundings for what felt like the seventh time that night already.
The lounge was blanketed in a thin veil of smoke, dim lights keeping the seating area of the space comfortably lit until the grand act came on. He took note of the low murmur throughout the crowd, many of the East Coast’s Elite engaging in superficial conversation.
Truthfully, he’s biding his time until he too will slip into the same type of dialogue that comes with the territory of reaching the top: smiles in the face with promises of future knives in serpent backs.
Forgive him for seeming like a brat, but he’s grown bored of the threats and the weak offers of building alliances. Andy didn’t do partnerships that weren’t fully vetted and with people he couldn’t trust. So, for now, he sits at the bar and observes the other people attending tonight’s exclusive opening of Nocturnal.
All security, except for personal right hands, remained outside the premises for the most part. Weapons were checked at the threshold, but then again, it wasn’t as though blood could be shed in this territory anyway. The jazz lounge was in a neutral, sacred place–Belén’s land.
As he scanned the crowd, there were only a few faces he didn’t recognize, and he mentally sighed in relief because this meant he wouldn’t have to stay till the dead of night. He’d rather be home, in his study, focusing on his business rather than having to play the no-nonsense schmooze so that people know where to stand when he enters a room. It gets boring, and it’s not what he signed up for.
However, it isn’t until he’s turning back to the bar that his interest spikes. bc
Your shoes were the first thing he noticed: heeled boots that went up, up, up over the knee. It was only inevitable for him to then follow the softness of your thighs, one leg crossed over the other on the bar stool. Your white dress billows out a little, and had his distant, annoying cousin been there–he’d known you were wearing a short, layered milkmaid dress; alas, all he knew was that he’s already started having thoughts about pushing that pretty, white fabric up and off your body.
Next the notices are your wrists–one laden with a variety of expensive bracelets and the other sporting a watch. Rings, but none on the finger that matter to Andy. His eyes keep going, and he’s taking in your profile.
Already, his fascination is growing when he catches you glancing at him from the corner of your eye.
In another instance, Andy would’ve paid Julian, the bartender, more mind when receiving the refill, but you looked so pretty and soft only a few stools down from him. It was enticing necaise there was also something mischievous about you, like a nymphe swaying alone in a sun kissed garden–waiting for her next doomed lover.
It's been awhile since he's had something–someone to play with, and Andy's always been one to capitalize on a blooming opportunity before him.
"What's your poison?" He asks smoothly, sliding into the seat beside you as if he belonged there. Evidently, he ignored the glances two of his men gave him from their discreet posts in the lounge, simply not wanting to miss a single reaction from you as he pursued your conversation.
There's no hiding your amusement, brow quirking and eyes following his every movement as he settles next to you.
"Why...Planning on buying me another?" You run one manicured finger along the rim of your glass, shooting the question back while looking him up and down carefully.
From an outsider, it was growing hard to see who was the predator and who was the prey. Yet, that's what makes most things exciting–the unpredictability.
"I am if you tell me your name."
You seem bashful when you giggle at his quick response, turning away from him briefly before returning to your original position; that's when the bashfulness slips away and is replaced by something else.
"Is that your hook?"
All his life, Andy’s had a natural gift for reading people. Body language, speech pattern changing, the slightest of tells–he could read ten people in a room and adapt before even approaching them. It’s what he was good at and had a right to be cocky about. Yet, in this one exchange alone, something tells him he’ll have to ask in order to see into your mind. Fascinating.
He could hear the amusement in your tone, and that spurred him on to see what kind of game he could play.
“Nah,” He clears his throat, shaking his head and briefly looking down. You don’t know it, but his eyes flicker to the exposed skin between the softness of your dress and the peek-a-boo black fur of your crushed velvet boots; he wonders how warm you must be. “I don’t need a hook to know you’re leaving with me tonight.”
“Oh, wow. I find your confidence refreshing,” You squint at him, but your lips quirk at his blatant boldness. This kind of chase was different: the two of you laying cards out on the table, leaving the other person to figure out what to do with them in a limited time frame.
“Haven’t met someone who doesn’t, so what’s your name?” He’s giving you a lazy, charming grin and you’d be dead lying if you said the sight didn’t make your stomach do a miniscule somersault at least. You go back to running one of your fingers against the rim of your glass as you maintain eye contact. It’s clear that both of you are entertained by this conversation, finding some kind of enjoyment in one another’s company as opposed to the mundane wealth embedded in everyone else.
“You’re a persistent one aren’t you…” You trail off, and Andy makes a split second decision.
"Andrew," He fills in the gap for you, simultaneously reaching his hand out as he formally introduces himself. The handshake is firm, warm, soft, and most definitely leaves the two of you lingering for a stolen touch; not that either of you would cave and admit that, for then this game of who jumps first will be over.
That's much too boring.
"Andrew," You repeat, trying the two syllables on your tongue like freshly picked, ripe fruit.
You're one of the good ones, Andy.
Andy may be considered a good man by another’s opinion, but he can't help the instinctual thought of what you would sound like whimpering his name as he had you beneath him. He wonders if you'd beg, if you'd plead for him to let you cum with those pretty eyes and tongue that's sharper than a Japanese knife.
Squinting your eyes just a bit, you stay silent for a moment before a small, knowing smile plays out on your mouth.
"You don't go by Andrew though...You don't look like an Andrew," You offer, twisting your mouth to the side as you think about your little teasing detective spiel.
"What gives you that impression?" Andy chuckles, placing his glass back down on the countertop. The rest of the lounge seems to turn into white noise as he speaks to you, getting lost in your way of being able to lure even the most cautious man into your damning meadow.
Raising an eyebrow at his question, you shift so that you're seated a bit straighter on your bar stool before you begin lifting off your reasoning.
"Sharp suit. Nice watch. Hair's well kept. Expensive drink. Cocky attitude...Nah...You're not an Andrew," Shaking your head, you put your fingers down back onto your lap and reach for your own glass to take a swig. You don't need the liquor in all honesty, his gaze during this conversation makes you warm enough. Humming appreciatively at the burn twinging your throat, you vaguely hear the sound of your own glass meeting the countertop once again.
“So, your logic is that I can have nice things, but I can’t be named Andrew,” Andy teases carefully, wanting to see if he was understanding your logic fully. You look at him with an unwavering glint in your eyes, a small apple forming in your cheek as one side of your mouth lifts higher in a poorly masked smile.
“Oh, you could be named Andrew on paper, I’m not doubting that,” You start out, only to lean forward a bit as if you were about to divulge a gateway into your mind. Subconsciously, Andy leans forward as well, and he doesn’t know if it’s a mistake that he’s caught whiff of how good you smell: the first scent he catches is cinnamon and it immediately reminds him of his grandmother’s infamous cinnamon rolls wafting through the kitchen. “You don’t dress like an Andrew, though. That’s my logic.”
“And how is an authentic ‘Andrew’ supposed to dress?” Andy feels nothing but intrigue as he leans in closer.
The smell of cinnamon becomes stronger, but it’s mixed with a warm perfume that makes Andy’s mind cloud for a moment. It’s dangerous that he’s already becoming addicted, and he hasn’t even had the pleasure of touching more than your hand.
“A schmuck,” You shrug, speaking matter of factly.
“A schmuck?” Andy chuckles, looking at you a bit incredulously even though you just give him a smile and a nod in return. You stand by what you said firmly, telling him that Andrew works nine to five and has a miserable wife with three kids at home. He was much too good looking to be some schmuck named Andrew, and he seemed much too interesting to go by that name as well.
“Good looking, huh?” You roll your eyes at his teasing, picking up your glass to finish the rest of your drink without even flinching. Andy doesn’t even have time to be impressed.
“Don’t act all modest now, Andrew. You wouldn’t be so arrogant with approaching me if you didn’t have a clue,” You playfully accuse, and Andy watches you with an equally matched playfulness. He won’t deny it–he was attracted to you; this conversation was like foreplay to him, and now he felt like a man on a mission to make his earlier arrogance come to fruition–you were gonna leave with him tonight. “So, come on–what’s your real name?”
Your tone is still playful yet encouraging, and you’re propping one elbow up on the bar top while your fist presses against your resting cheek. Andy’s brows furrow, but he still looks at you with a twinkle of amusement and a smile that didn’t leave.
“What do you mean? I may not be a schmuck, but my name is actually, Andrew,” He laughs, and you let your eyes roll a bit at his response.
“Men are always hard of hearing…” You trail off, letting out a small sigh as your lashes flutter before opening slowly as if you were regaining your patience in order to start your explanation again. “I don’t doubt your name’s Andrew, I doubt that’s what you go by with the whole...let me intimidate you from a distance thing you’ve got going on.”
Lazily, you gesture to him, and Andy snorts.
Somehow, you’re not totally wrong in your superficial reading of him, but he’s not going to stroke the go he’s sure rests beneath the tip of your iceberg.
“Brooding at the bar in a jazz lounge? Doesn’t scream friendly, baby,” You tease, and Andy doesn’t have a retort because from an outside perspective–he’s sure that’s probably another accurate perception. However, the slip of the pet name from you has something stirring within him already.
“Oh, really, and what are you doing then?” Andy quips, but you’re quicker than he is.
“Enjoying the fact that my plan worked,” You muse, your head bobbing a bit as you speak with your cheek still pressed against your hand.
“You sitting here flirting with me,” You put simply–still mischievously smiling a little, and something tells Andy that you’re a whirlwind of trouble, but one that is so worth it if experienced properly. Either way, your implied confession stuns Andy for a moment, and the only thing he can think to say is that you’re right–he doesn’t go by Andrew, he goes by Andy.
This has you looking him up and down once again, only to shake your head and sit up straight.
“Andy’s a boy next door...Andy’s the guy I’d take home if I wanted to settle for mundane and safe...Andy’s sweet, you’re...you know what–what’s your last name?” You ask without thinking, twisting your mouth to the side as you analyze his appearance only to lock eyes with him once again. Distantly, there’s the sound of soft instrumentals and the clinking of glasses being lost between words, but all Andy can focus on is how expressive your eyes are.
“You gonna stalk me, darlin’?” He asks in response to your question, deciding to gloss over your little rambling analysis. It’s clear that you have the tendency to let yourself wander, but you merely scoff and wave his question off.
“You wish you were important enough for me to spend that much time on you.”
“At this point, I do,” Andy nods, only looking away from you to pick up his glass and let the burn glide down his throat: lava to a hill, no pleasure. You’re quiet when Andy looks back at you, and before he can let it sink in that his flirtatious retort threw you off course for a second you’re diverting the conversation.
“Last name, Andrew who goes by Andy,” You requested again, and Andy finds it hard to deny you when you look at him like that.
“S’Barber,” He slightly slurs after a moment, and like his first name–you’re repeating his last once again; it’s like trying out a new dessert, acclimating yourself with the new tastes coating your buds.
“Mr. Barber, hmm? Now that could fit your little intimidating schtick,” You nod, only to then fully turn to the bar and press your palms into the bar top and lean over just a bit. The skirt of your dress falls slightly, bottom raising off the stool a little as you move to call for Julian. It’s only natural for Andy’s eyes to flicker towards the movement, but he’s quick to look back at your profile before imagining something that’ll make his pants tight.
“JJ, will you be a doll and refill me please? ...Oh, and don’t forget to put everything on Mr. Barber’s tab...He was so gracious as to cover my drinks tonight.”
Julian’s eyes flitter between you and Andy, damp rag in his hand as he stops from flipping it over his shoulder. He looks caught between a crossroads for a moment, and it’s clear that the kid is debating whether or not to follow through with that request.
Andy’s nothing less than amused and absolutely intrigued by your antics. Expectantly watching Julian, a twinkle appears in your eyes that mirrors your unwavering confidence.
“Uh, Mr. Barber doesn’t have a–”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, kid. You heard the woman…” Soft instrumentals continue to play in the murmur of the background, and Andy’s eyes move from your profile to Julian’s face. With a quirk at the corner of his mouth, he finishes his statement even though it’s unnecessary. “I insist.”
The two words have you taking a glance at Andy, but you’re humming to yourself and happily sitting back in your chair with the remnants of an almost triumphant smile on your face; with jubilance, you push your empty glass and napkin towards Julian who seems much less hesitant thanks to the previous reassurance. Taking in your reaction to you getting what you want, Andy’s earlier suspicions of you being a brat are confirmed–but there’s something else mixed in with the ideology.
Something that makes him want to give you any and everything, just so he can see how much gratitude he can possibly receive from you.
All these thoughts in such a short span of interaction; it’s dangerous.
“So, why are you here?”
You’re not caught off guard by the question, but your posture shifts and you quirk a brow at him. There’s no defensiveness in your appearance, but perhaps you’re someone who could beat him at poker.
“Well, Mr. Barber. The same way that you’re here,” You tease, only to take your gaze away from him to thank Julian for the newly replenished drink. There’s a familiarity between your movements and the bartender’s, as if the two of you have had more than just over the countertop rapport. Had you not called Julian by a nickname, the encounter would’ve planted a seed of you seeming to be more involved than you’re letting on. Once again, intriguing.
“How do you run in the same circles as Arthur Abrahms?” Andy asks with a lilt in his tone, his drink becoming an afterthought. It’s not the most becoming trait he has, but Andy loves to catch others in their web of lies. Whether it would be mid-spin, a finished product, or the beginning of the beauty spiders create–Andy relishes in the moment he’s able to catch the budding flaw on a silver tongue. Not a becoming trait, but it is a truth behind his character nonetheless.
I love your father, but remember you’re not him, my sweet boy.
Your tongue? Your tongue seemed like it could make a metaphorical werewolf nearly squeal in pain if you licked its wounds.
He doesn’t show it, but he’s somewhat impressed by your ability to keep up the unphased look on your face. If anything, your nonchalance seemed to just grow as you held eye contact with him over the rim of your glass while taking a sip.
Andy’s testing you for one simple reason: you stick out like a sore thumb in this exclusive opening of Nocturnal. Old and new money, people who have kill lists and literal bodies in their basement, corrupt state officials, and those who don’t know the meaning of trust over power–everyone in here was a ravenous coyote, traveling alone and wreaking havoc on those unfortunately deemed as fleshy prey. Though people had roots here–connected to the state of Massachusetts–everyone in here was a feral, rabid, charlatan depiction of what they hoped to appear as: good citizens who are upholding different parts of their nation through their family businesses.
You looked like you belonged somewhere else, somewhere brighter. You looked like you remained authentic, untouched by the disease of conning others to get ahead. You looked like trouble, but not the kind that would result in someone being handled quickly and quietly; it was the kind of trouble that made his pants tight, made him want to take you in the bathroom just so he could watch your face in the mirror as he took you from behind.
“Maybe you just don’t know all of Artie’s circles, babe,” You muse playfully, not paying Andy’s shift in expression any mind as you drink once again.
You may stick out like a sore thumb, but your answer made it clear that you had some kind of business here because you caught the slip up.
Anyone who knew Arthur Abrahms knew that he hated being called Arthur by those he deemed as friends. Even after everything done to him, the love in the over-middle aged man’s heart still remained as full as ever.
Artie Abrahms was a treasure, and anyone on the East Coast would stand by that statement tenfold; especially considering the history behind the man’s family. So, to be in one of his circles was commendable in one way, despite the sins that may linger on one’s soul.
“Touché, sweetheart,” Andy huffs out a laugh, feeling a tad stumped by your ability to have a retort for everything he says to you. Humming at his subtle white flag, you cross one leg over the other and turn your body back to him; one of your elbows is propped on the bar countertop, hands clasped together as you lean your head on your shoulder.
“So, you’ve had your question, is it my turn now?” You’re mocking him a little bit, he can see it in the way you smile and relax your posture just a bit.
“Something tells me my answer doesn’t matter,” He theorizes, and your smile widens just a tad.
“You’re right, it doesn’t. Good boy for catching on,” Your voice drops slightly at the end, tone turning more sultry as you praise him; a foreign dryness threatens Andy’s throat, but he doesn’t have time to analyze the confusing, bodily response to your words.
“Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see–mm, I know. I’ll do you one better...Why don’t we play a game?”
It’s the first time that you touch him, your foot brushing up against his leg when you lean in close enough for him to notice the clear curl of your lashes in the dim lighting. He doesn’t lean back, instead moving a little forward as if trying to keep prying ears away from whatever you might suggest.
“Mm-hmm,” You nod. “One that keeps tonight interesting, because something tells me that you and JJ might be my only source of authentic entertainment tonight.”
He doesn’t know what you mean by that, but it’s foolish to think that you’d grant him an explanation. The two of you, despite the evident chemistry, are strangers at the end of the day. You’re strangers surrounded by people who don’t fall into the category of morally grey—they’re purely immoral.
Never forget that–above all–you’re one of the good ones, Andy.
He waits for you to fill in the gaps of his confusion, divulge the details of whatever little game you apparently had planned for the two of you.
“We’ll call it what’s your poison.”
Andy’s eyebrow quirks, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Evidently, you’re teasing him for the cliché attempt at starting a conversation.
By now, it’s safe to say the both of you have captured each others’ full attention, a daring energy lingering between the proximity of your respective postures.
“Never heard of it–
“Let me finish,” You giggle, playfully chiding him but making it clear that he should keep his mouth shut until you’ve finished.
“It’s the classic game of: guess what I’m drinking,” You begin, even making a gesture to your glass that still has some of your drink of choice in it. Andy’s eyes follow, and you continue. “But there’s a catch...You gotta guess without asking JJ–Julian, and you can’t drink it yourself either.”
Having been in the arena of handling the family business, taking the torch and making it his own, Andy could tell when there was an ulterior motive behind someone’s proposal. Your small, sly grin confirms his suspicions.
“Seems like you’re tryna set me up for failure,” Andy accuses, eyes narrowing playfully. At his statement, your expression only deepens.
The difference between predator and prey is cognizance.
“Me? Never, Mr. Barber,” You tease, leaning into him just enough to make him think that maybe you’ll let your hand graze against him. However, you simply run your eyes over his figure greedily, and Andy pretends to not notice the way you squeeze your thighs together just a little. When you meet his eyes again, there’s no denying the ideology behind you being trouble.
“I always play fair,” You claim, an airy lilt to your tone.
“Oh, really? Then what’s in it for me if I get it right?” Andy’s blue eyes search your face, taking in the neat threading of your eyebrows to the cute pout of your cupid’s bow. At his question, you twist your mouth to the side, eyes fluttering up to the ceiling in a faux display of thinking. It ends nearly as soon as it began.
“I’ll tell you my name if you win,” You offer, and it’s then that he realizes you’ve circles around him. Your ability to evade questions, flip the script, and have someone eating out of your hand is impressive; it makes him think that perhaps you’d be a force if argued against in court. Ironic.
“And if you win?”
“Well, when I win, then it’s simple,” You sigh out, leaning back from him as you speak. Your warmth–your sweetness–was no longer the sole focal point of Andy’s attention, and the distance disappoints. Yet, your following actions don’t: taking one manicured finger along the rim of your glass, collecting the residual droplets that would soon no longer be safe from the confines of your mouth. A heat creeps up his neck when he watches you eventually pull your fingers away from your lips.
That look from before, the one that came just before you tried to hide your attempt of relieving some of your budding arousal–it’s back. A fire rests in your eyes this time, and Andy’s starting to have an inkling to whom the predator and prey are respectively in this situation. Still, he waits expectantly for you to finish.
You don’t end up saying anything right away, instead studying him for a brief moment. He doesn’t know whether it’s the second hand smoke, the delirious fatigue that accompanies spending too much time with others, or simply you leaning forward to gently press your fingers against his tie that makes him start to feel a little light headed.
The last option seems most plausible, because you lean forward even more and let the soft fabric split between your fingers for a moment; Andy doesn’t even have time to realize what you’re doing before you tug him forward just a bit. He’s sure you can smell the alcohol on his breath, but he’s more focused on how misleading your presence is. From afar, you seem harmless–a beautiful flower budding the expanse of an untouched garden, but something about that way you look at him resembles something wolfish and mischievous: he was right to view you as a nymph in a white dress.
“When I win,” You begin carefully, eyes staying locked on his own as you make sure all he can see, think, and pay attention to is you; eyes flicker to lips, and heartbeats try to decipher the attraction without giving too much away. “I get to have you tonight, and you can’t be clingy afterwards.”
Andy’s breath hitches a tad, just enough for you to hear it thanks to your close proximity.
Somehow, before you even allowed him the opportunity to sit by you–Andy was cast as the prey. He was your prey, and he finds this push and pull more exciting than he should–especially with someone not in his inner circle.
Many would not have gotten away with some of the shit you’ve done and said already tonight, but he’s entranced by you, put under your spell as you sway, dance, and lure him to the depths of your meadow.
“What do you say, Mr. Barber?” Your breath fans his lips, and your nose is a mere tilt away from brushing against his. To anyone else, it would seem like you were about to kiss. However, you’re laying out the trap and waiting for him to fall in. “Think that’s a fair enough game for you?”
You seem to revel in making Andrew “Andy” Barber equally enraptured and intimated by you, smirking at the way he licks his lips and struggles to formulate an answer for a moment. His tie suddenly feels too tight, but it’s probably just a misdirection of the uncomfortable restriction growing in his slacks.
“I don’t think you know the meaning of fair, forcing me to guess somethin’ an’hopefully get it right by the grace uh’God just so I can have your name?”
Your eyes narrow, and suddenly you’re releasing him. No longer are you letting your high-heeled foot rub against his leg. No longer are you holding his tie, opting to tuck it back in and give it a quick pat. No longer are you a breath of a kiss away from him, leaning back so that you were at square one when he first sat next to you: no longer touching.
It’s dangerous that he already doesn’t like that.
“The only grace you should care about is the one I’m willing to give you, Andy.”
You say it matter of factly, nonchalantly, and he doesn't even have your full attention as you say it. Rather, your priority is on lifting your glass, taking a look at it before you finally glance at him again. Taking a drink, you notice the way he opens his mouth to speak–to question, but he’s soon interrupted by none other than Arthur “Artie” Abrahms making his voice heard over the dwindling instrumentals and muttering between criminals through the moderately sized stage.
“Goodnight, everyone–thank you for coming. Know some of you have...business elsewhere, but still thanks for comin’ anyway,” Artie laughs and earns a chorus of chuckles at his insinuation, and he too sports a playful grin from underneath the mellow spotlight shining on him.
Despite his ability to remain a kid at heart, Artie Abrahms was not a kid–not by a long shot. He was in his late fifties, soft bodied and overflowing with a goodness that should be reserved for those who are deserving of such treatment.
There’s a similarity between you and the man everyone adores: neither of you look like you belong in a den of ravenous monsters, but looks can be deceiving.
Artie has a small spiel, simply saying that he hopes all of his friends here understand why he had to open this place in Belén’s Land. A silence falls amongst the crowd as he speaks, all–who are knowing of the suffering he’s endured–seem to understand that weight of his words. However, Andy, unfortunately cannot look away from your profile for long enough to make it seem like he was paying a shrivel of attention to Artie.
“...But without further ado...Please welcome tonight’s entertainment–Ruby Lafé!”
There’s a fluttering of applause, and a thick woman soon takes the place that Artie once stood. Her dress glitters in the light, hugging wide hips and a very healthy display of cleavage. Hair pinned back in an old fashioned style, her face is free to be seen by everyone in here.
Ruby Lafé was beautiful–big and beautiful in every sense of the words. Anyone with eyes could see that, but for those who doubt this notion: when she opens her mouth to begin singing, the statement reigns as true as ever.
Though he doesn’t have a clear view of your face, Andy can still see the way you subtly bite your bottom lip and scan over the woman who stands on stage.
“So, in or out?”
You’re not looking at him when you ask the question, but he can still hear you clearly due to Ruby not beginning her set quite yet; people were still getting situated at various tables, and the show never begins until all attention is on the one who matters the most at that moment. Either way, Andy’s brows furrow briefly in confusion, only for him to understand what you were asking him: in or out of the proposed game.
“I don’t know...Seems like you’re tryna trick me,” He muses playfully, and that’s when you turn back to him. Your glass is in your hand, and you quirk a brow at his statement. Yet, there’s still an airy tone to your presence and voice.
“You know what...I’ll let you be the decider of that, Mr. Barber,” You banter, tipping your glass up to your lips as you take a healthy swig. You clear your throat after the first one, but you’re quick to take another and finish the rest of the drink off.
“How am I supposed to guess if you won’t let me have a taste?”
There’s a residual drop on your lip when you place the glass back on the countertop; with ease, your tongue pokes out to collect it and it should be shameful that Andy has the cliché thought of wishing it were his own.
At his question, you look at him, and that familiar, lopsided smile graces your features as you look him up and down. Andy’s nose scrunches when you move to get off your barstool, giving Julian a soft glance and wave before looking back at him again.
Predator or prey?
Stepping forward, you’re close enough that you’re able to look down and reach one hand out to smooth out his tie; subsequently, you’re able to feel the firmness of his chest beneath the layers of fabric and your hum of approval sparks a prideful burst within him.
It feels like forever when you lock eyes with Andy again, staying close enough that your side brushes up against his leg and he can smell the sweetness that radiates off of you in delicious waves.
“I’m sure you can figure something out, Artie doesn’t have...incompetent friends,” You speak carefully, loud enough for him to be the only one who hears you; at least, he wants to believe that’s your intention. Your head’s tilted to the side a little before you’re standing up straight, patting his fixed tie twice, throwing him the same smile. “Try and do it before I turn into a pumpkin, yeah? I’m not the most patient woman.”
Your words leave no room for discussion, but it’s not as though that mattered anyway–you were turning and walking away from and into the pit of the lounge to comfortably listen to the beginnings of Ruby Lafé’s sweet timber coming through the amplifiers.
One thing that’s never changing about this lifestyle: Andy’s never without company for too long. For instance, he can’t even begin to think of how he’s meant to win your game, ideas interrupted by one of his men checking in with him to confirm the hit that was currently happening across two towns.
Aforementioned, whenever an opportunity arises, Andy makes damn sure to capitalize.
In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.
“Just handle it,” Andy grunts, feeling a sense of frustration from having to partake in a conversation that shouldn’t even be happening; so, though it’s not the most respectful thing, Andy speaks to the man in question–Benji–without taking his eyes away from you.
Standing close enough that the whispered conversation doesn’t interrupt the melodic hum of Ruby’s voice but far enough to show respect for Andy’s personal space, Benji presses on despite the three word dismissal.
“But what about the leak? Aunt Nellie told us–”
“I already took care of the mole, Nell knows that,” Andy interrupts, finally looking away from you and at one of the younger members of the Barber family business. Watching the way Benji shifts slightly, trying to keep his face from betraying any anxious emotion, Andy keeps the same level tone with a soft narrowing of his blue eyes. “Like I said before, handle it. It’ll do ya some good to remember who to listen to, Benji.”
That’s as much of a dismissal as any, and Andy doesn’t spare him another glance before he’s looking over at you again.
Truthfully, he didn’t enjoy being detached at times, putting on this mask of the stoic head to a lethal snake. He didn’t enjoy dismissing those who would die for him, those who have killed for him. He didn’t enjoy it, but it was the way it was meant to be at times.
Though it wasn’t necessary in this instance, since Benji was simply covering all of the bases–being thorough, one thing Andy could never stand was others disrupting the path towards his goals. For instance, all he wanted to do was beat you at your own game, show you just how good he was–could be. He wanted to get inside of that pretty little head of yours, see what makes you so...enigmatic.
“Got it, sir,” Benji says firmly, but at a low decibel. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Andy checked out of the conversation already.
Now, he’s more focused on whether or not he wants to win or lose.
He wins, he gets your name. Names are worth something, and the fact that Andy can’t place who you are–who you’re associated with is more than intriguing; a name could answer a lot of questions with the amount of influence–hereditary and earned–he has in general.
However, he loses, he gets to have you. Underneath? On top? Doesn’t matter. He’d get to have you in his bed, probably before then too.
He wonders if you could feel his eyes on you, causing you to turn and lock eyes with him. Even with the distance, he can see the small smirk appear on your face as you subtly raise your finger to tap against your watch; the words ‘tick tock’ can be read clear as day on your lips, and he shifts in the barstool when you uncross your legs and move to stand.
His eyes follow you as you seem to float toward a threshold located by the live band playing, disappearing between the deep coloured curtains as if vanishing between a sea of overgrown trees.
“Closing your tab, Mr. Barber?” Eyes still trained on the threshold beneath the soft glowing sign reading lavatories, Andy passively acknowledges the question but it ultimately falls on deaf ears when the beginnings of a plan start circulating his mind.
They say where there’s a will, there’s a way, and Andy’s willpower to beat you at your game of what’s your poison simply grew with every smooth stride he took in the direction you ventured.
You’ve gotta be smarter than all of them, Andy–including your father.
“Took you long enough,” You look like the cat that ate the canary when you smile at him, leaning against the opposite wall while you play with the ring on your pointer finger. “Almost thought I’d have to remind you about my relationship with patience.”
You’re teasing him, but Andy doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind, because although this game feels like a double edged sword–the good kind–he’s grown to realize he’ll win either way.
“Maybe that’s something you can improve on,” He muses, taking in the way you seem to analyze his every move. At his comment, you’re letting out the faintest of laughs, one that has him wondering if your moans would be even more breathless if he toyed with your body just right.
“I see someone has jokes.”
“I have a lot of things,” He shrugs, the corners of his mouth quirking when he notices your eyes flicker up and down his form briefly.
“So then I suppose you have an answer to the infamous question?”
“Nah, not yet.”
Andy’s not surprised at the sight of your small frown–no doubt stemming from confusion at his answer. Good, that means you won’t have any inkling about his freshly formed plan on how to guess without trying or knowing the drink himself.
“Well,” You sigh out, feigning disappointment as you ease up off of the wall slightly. Your bottom lip just out a tad–exhibiting a pout that he hesitates to classify as genuine. “Don’t wear your pretty little head out, I guess, Barber–we can’t all be clever.”
Now that causes him to let out a scoff of a laugh and shake his head, the remnants of a smile remaining even as he clicks his tongue at your not-so-subtle dig.
“What? Did I strike a nerve?”
Your pout deepens, and rather than say anything–Andy takes slow steps towards you in the moderately sized corridor.
“No,” He says carefully, impressed that you don’t step back at first; however, his head cocks to the side a bit as he takes his turn to give you a once over as he crowds your space but leaves enough room for you to leave if wanted. “I think you’re much too sweet for your brattiness to hurt.”
Ironically, it seems as though he’s the one who strikes a nerve, your breath seeming to hitch in surprise when he categorizes your behaviour.
“I’m not a brat–”
“And I’m not a schmuck,” He says simply, shrugging one shoulder as if saying ‘potato, potahto’ in this situation. You don’t move until he steps forward again, and Andy hums when your back presses against the wall once again.
In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the notion that the two of you aren’t alone–not really.
Of course, there’s the illusion of isolation from nearly everyone else in this corridor, but Andy knows better. At the drop of a hat, if something were to go left–his associates would have you dealt with in under five minutes; yet, looking at you, being close enough to smell the sweet scent lingering in your orbit, something tells Andy that you may be a predator who can easily spot prey–but you’re not reckless.
“Do you have an answer, or are we going to be here all night?” You ask, but the bite in your tone is nowhere to be seen. If anything, it’s as though his blatantly close proximity has melted a layer of your resolve, allowing him to see what the upper hand might be like for a moment.
“We don’t have to be here all night, s’long as you’re alright with my method of guessing,” Andy voices, erasing more space between the two of you as he takes one final step.
There’s nowhere for either of you to go, and his eyes search your face for a multitude of reasons: asking for permission, gauging your reaction, taking you in for himself. It feels natural for him to slowly reach a hand up, giving you enough time to reject his touch and put this entire thing to bed; once again, you don’t move away. If anything, you slightly lean into cupping the side of your face, your eyes widening a tad when Andy brushes his thumb against your bottom lip before sliding his hand to the base of your skull so that you have no option but to look at him.
Your gaze is as unwavering as ever.
“Be my guest, baby. I’m interested to see what you come up with.”
Your voice is soft, expectant. It’s like the two of you are teetering on the edge of something, both waiting for the other person to pounce since Andy’s intention was made clear. He hums again when you tilt your head back into his touch, and his tongue darts out to run over his lips in anticipation.
Tick tock, as you said yourself.
When the gap closes, his first thought pertains to him being right: you are sweet.
Glossed lips soft against his own, Andy takes his time when it comes to exploring your mouth. He doesn’t kiss you hesitantly but deliberately, as if making a careful introduction to one of many to come.
It’d be a lie to say that Andy hasn’t had his fair share of women, and it would be another lie to say this kiss was earth shattering–the kind that the romantic dramas glamorize with an orchestra and arranged lighting. However, Andy can’t deny the emerging thought of him being attracted to the way you taste, the way you respond to him.
On the other side of the corridor, the slightly muffled sound of Ruby Lafé
You moan when he deepens the kiss, tongue making its way into your mouth as his free hand slides to the small of your back while the other slightly tightens at the base of your skull. The two of you are sharing slivers of air, getting lost in the moment like teenagers with a slew of hormones that need to be dealt with.
He almost forgot why he was kissing you for a second, almost.
“Mmmph,” You pout when he pulls away, subconsciously following his lips for a second before your lashes flutter open and you’re facing him. Through your dress, you can feel the warmth of where his hands touch you, keeping you steady as you unknowingly clutch onto the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Funny, something told me you’d be a gin and tonic typa girl,” Andy drawls a little, taking in the way your eyes flicker to his mouth before finding his gaze again.
“That the best you can do? Kinda a basic answer,” You lament, and Andy’s breathy chuckle fans across your face. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do, it was make it easy for him.
Andy would have to work for everything he wants from you, and he had more than enough resilience to bear whatever necessary in this moment.
“Mmm, s’that so? Ya askin’ me to be more thorough?” He teases quietly, and you look at him with a familiar glint in your darkened eyes.
“I think highly encouraging is a better word.”
He didn’t win the battle, but from where he stands–he’s adamant on winning the war.
Andy firmly believed that when you whimpered into his mouth, moving your hips in attempts to press away from the wall and further into him.
Your skin is warm and soft against his hands while he holds you up, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs at first; it’s as though he doesn’t know if he wants to take you apart slowly or devour you for teasing him all night.
When he presses you back into the bedroom wall, prominent bulge beginning to strain against his zipper and fingers skirting up to the juncture of your thigh, he makes his decision.
“This is what you wanted tonight? S’that why ya decided to be a tease with no panties?”
His breath hits the shell of your ear with amused condescension, and you absentmindedly still try to chase his increasingly addictive kiss. The moans you try to stifle are heard by him nonetheless, prompting him to roughly grind against your bare heat. He must’ve known it would’ve been more difficult for you to respond when he slid one of his hands up to your neck, gently squeezing his fingers to test your waters.
“Answer me, mio piccolo fuoco,” Andy grunts out, and your brain can’t register the name he calls you when he grasps your eye contact.
Your coupled actions are brazen, classless, and near uncouth: the bedroom door is open, and you two verge on wanting to fuck with your clothes still on.
No doubt, your slickening core is ruining the front of his pants, but he can’t bring himself to care; all he can focus on is the wave of defiance that flashes across your face when he attempts to prompt your submission.
“Muérdeme, bello,” You grunt out with a smirk, causing Andy to falter his movements as you then swallow a breathy moan.
“Stai giocando con me?” He teases, noticing the small tells hinting at you not fully understanding him. Either way, he continues to move his hand from your neck to your face, fingers splayed across your jaw before he presses his digits into the flesh of your cheeks to purse your lips for a brief moment. “Ti rovino.”
Everything seemingly temporary has a smattering of blurred moments, ones that lead to a larger, more fleeting picture.
This was no different, and the main miracle rests in Andy shutting the door closed to shield the next events from the men who were further down the hall–hiding in the shadows and knowing when gazes should be averted.
He’s on you just as soon as you hit the plush bed, making sure to keep the skirt of your dress hiked up high as he easily slots himself between your spread legs.
Suddenly, it’s as though he’s wearing too much for your liking. Truthfully, he found it adorable in a way: how you still tried to bow your body into lips while pushing the blazer off his shoulders with minimal help from him.
“So needy already,” He hums quietly, lips grazing your neck before pressing a wet kiss over one spot that has you rutting up into him.
However, he has you mistaken to an extent, for you’re soon enough threading your fingers into the hair at the base of his skull and pulling him away from the cinnamon and cocoa butter smell of your skin.
“You act like you don’t want to be inside me, Andrew,” You laugh out with a heavy breath, a fire in your eyes as you force him to look at you.
Calling you an enigma wouldn’t do you justice, because it has been a long–maybe never–time since he’s felt stunned in such close quarters. You take note of this, and next thing Andy knows–his back hits the bed while your dress billowed out over your thighs as you straddle him.
Leaning down so your mouth is by his ear, he struggles between focusing on the low purr of your words or or how he can feel your cunt pulse on top of him through his ruined fabric.
“Don’t make this something it’s not, baby,” You whisper, practically verbalizing your pout; Andy feels the warmth creep up his neck when you reach between your bodies to untuck his now half buttoned shirt and begin undoing his slacks. “I told you the rules of the game, and you lost...I want my prize.”
The snide retort gets caught in the back of his throat, and he grabs your ass tightly when you slide your soft hand beneath the barriers to his skin; you merely hold him at first, letting the weight of him in your palm for a moment.
Letting your free hand cradle his bearded cheek, you turn your head to press a chaste kiss to the side of his face before you’re moving so that your lips then brush against his. It isn’t until then that you swipe your thumb across his leaking tip, proceeding to rub the pad of the digit along the head and slit.
“Be a good boy and play fair, hmm?”
In mere moments, you’ve turned the tables on him, throwing that same condescending tone back into his face; the cherry on top most certainly him subtly trying to rut into your hand.
Your words set something off within him, and it’s a shame he wouldn’t have a token of ruined, discarded panties to remember the initial night he tangled himself with a nymphe who must have a sinister side for how easily you’ve been able to play him in return. It only adds to the inability for the two of you to fully undress; he’s roughly flipping you back over, keeping your legs spread wide for him as he pushes his pants and briefs down just enough to set himself free.
Even with your knees pressed back into the mattress, your hole clenching around nothing and waiting, Andy had to work his girth inside of you until his balls pressed against the flesh of your ass.
“Nngh–shit,” You yelp out, thighs slightly quivering beneath his hold as he holds himself within you only to pull out and once again push himself into your slippery walls.
“Uh-uh, keep it open for me,” Andy lowly grunts, forcefully pushing your legs back as he makes sure to bottom out inside of you with deliberate thrusts; each time, your walls debated on suckling him in further or pushing him out for such a painfully delicious intrusion. “Mmm-hmm...Just like that...Just like that, ragazza avida.”
There’s no affection, no soft touches in the way the two of you fuck. It’s desperate, rough, and an evident display of two people refusing to succumb to the role of the prey–the biggest loser of this exhilarating battle. Hearing him call you something else
Your fingers initially claw at his shoulders, dipping beneath the fabric of his shirt to abuse the warm flesh. You dig in, trying to ground yourself as Andy stretches you out for him; however, you feel yourself float just a tad further when his beard scratches against your cheek, the sinful bite at the juncture of your neck and shoulder follows soon after.
“Yessss...yesyesyes. So. fucking. Good,” You whine out between punctuated thrusts, seizing the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist when Andy’s hands take on a different task than holding your quivering legs open: pulling down the neck of your dress enough for your tits to spill free.
With ease, you cradle his head to your chest as he mouths at the newly exposed flesh, continuing to grind into you with a vigor that has you coming closer to the edge faster than expected.
This man will be the death of you in one way or another, you are more than sure of it.
“Taking me so well in this tight little pussy, dolcezza, such a good girl,” He praises, slowing his thrusts down to work you open around him while still kneading your sensitive, now wet thanks to his generous kisses, chest. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten, eyes screwing shut when he angles his hips in a way that makes you want to merely lay out and be taken.
“Ohhh...Fuck...A-Andy,” You mewl, fingers once again finding the hairs at the nape of his neck while your heeled boots dig into the curve of his back. He’s holding onto you tightly with one hand to hold you in place, the other fisting the sheet by your head as he hovers over you completely.
“What is it, amore?” He breathes playfully, stifling a moan when your walls ripple around him. “What do you need?”
You’re futile in trying to stave off an orgasm, trying to keep from being the first to get lost in the other person’s ministrations. However, it seems as though the man above you was intent on having that just happen, so when his hand slid up to the column of your neck again–you let the waves take you under and your eyes rolled to the back of your head with a flutter of your lashes.
“I’m gonna cummm,” You drawl out, nails moving to dig into his ass after clawing at his shirt desperately. Andy doesn’t relent from thrusting into you, making sure his pelvis grinds against your clit in as steady a rhythm as him filling you.
“Askin’ or tellin’ me?”
It was meant to be a grunt, but his words come out as another moan when you begin to clench around him–sucking his length even deeper into your wet, tight heat. Sinful isn’t even an accurate depiction, but Andy’s sure that this feeling alone is what will make him solidify the growing addiction of you.
“Telling...” You whine out, digging into his skin even deeper; he hisses at the action and at the consistent portrayal of defiance–of you not throwing in the towel, merely knowing when to let your opponent get the upper hand.
He slowly fucks you through the high, and it takes the waning shrivels of his willpower to not blow his load; the slow kiss you desperately give him doesn’t help, but the taste of you is too consuming to pull away and keep you pliant for him.
Perhaps he should’ve done that, should’ve pulled away, put his hand over your mouth and proceed to abuse your pussy for making him so insatiable for you in a matter of hours. Perhaps he should’ve done that instead of letting you cup his cheek with one hand, the other sliding up to the small of his back as you slightly pull back from his kiss with his plush bottom lip between your teeth. You’re slow to release it, and Andy noticeably twitches within your gushing heat at the action.
“M’gonna ride you,” You say simply, albeit breathlessly. He can still feel you pulsing around him, can feel the new slick that’s now coating him due to your still growing arousal despite the cliff jump.
For the umpteenth time tonight, Andy’s learning to not underestimate your position–to not assume that he’s got you just because you’ve shown a flash of vulnerability; you have him underneath you once again, both of you letting out a brief, leveled moan and whine of dissatisfaction when he slips out of you unintentionally at the maneuver.
It doesn’t matter, for his hands find your clothed hips, thumbs massaging absentmindedly as you reach between the two of you–under your dress–to help guide him back inside of you after comfortably straddling his lap.
“Mmmph,” You blurt out when you fully sit back on him, hands finding the warmth of his chest through the large opening of his shirt. Andy swallows a grunt at the back of his throat when he feels your walls flutter around him, and he’s deathly aware that he’s not going to last long–not when you feel like velvet, not when you’ve let him have you without anything in the way.
You are a nymphe, one that’s destined to kill him in the end. It’s the only explanation suitable for how enraptured he is by how you look on top of him: head slightly thrown back, mouth ajar, eyes closed, sleeves of your dress pulled down to give him a scandalous view of your chest, nails digging into his skin, and body moving with a devilish agility that has him holding onto you with a vice grip.
“C-Così carina...so damn pretty for me,” Andy breathes, continuing to look up at you with awe. However, his hands wander to your ass, hiking up your dress roughly so he gains access to your bare skin. Your ass continues to clap back down onto a mix of his now sticky thighs and ruined trousers, making him wish that he took you from behind.
He remembers he’ll have you more than just this once tonight, he’ll have you till–
“Coño,” You choke out, body bending forward a bit more just when Andy’s hand came down on your bare cheek. In return, he’s letting out his own groan from how you immediately clenched around him from the action, subconsciously trying to find some more stimulation for your aching clit.
If you simply asked, he would’ve given it to you. He needs to hear and see every little thing he does and can do to you.
“This is what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this–fill up this little cunt?”
He meant to sound domineering, but his voice came out as strained instead. The truth is, he doesn’t need you to answer the question; it’s what he wants at the very least, but you’re slotting one hand to cup his jaw as your face now hovers over his and the two of you descend into a sloppy kind of fucking.
“You like my pussy, baby? I’m so wet for you,” You murmur softly, stifling a preen at him pressing you down to sheathe himself within you fully. From this angle, he’s sure you can feel him everywhere, but you take it so well. You take it so well, and the sound of your sweet voice saying such a filthy string of words has him throwing his head back into the bed and whining; of course, he’s completely oblivious to the diversion you created from answering his question.
“Feel so good...already making me want to cum for you again, mi amor...Such a good boy for me.”
You’ve got him. You’ve got him in the palm of your hand, and he doesn’t even have the chance to give warning for the peak he’s hitting.
Vaguely, he can register the small cry you let out from how firmly he holds you, blunt nails digging into your warm ass as he moves you to forcefully work yourself on him one, two, three, four times as he shoots rope after rope within your willing hole. It feels chilling to the point of hitting his bones, and he can’t even stop from wanting to continue to grind within you despite the sensitivity.
You cling onto him as well though, your lips finding his own in a kiss that is equally lazy and needy.
“Flip over, cara mia. I’m not done with you.”
There is an unspoken promise of how the rest of the night would go: everything but naked bodies would end up on the floor, no longer needed for marking unexplored planes of skin–no longer required for the filthy mess between strangers who happened upon each other’s existence hours ago.
After things seemingly go right, a rude awakening must follow. Though there is no written law, it must count as an immeasurable truth.
If only he knew you were a believer in the ideology of: if you want something–set it free, if it comes back–perhaps it’s yours.
“Frank, could you remind mister...I’m sorry, wanna state that for the record one more time?”
‘Screw you, Barber!’
It comes out muffled thanks to the soaked rag in Neal Logiudice’s mouth, but Andy could understand nonetheless for he’s learned how to decipher inhibited speech over the years. Plus, the guy couldn’t keep his mouth shut without the damn thing in, and honestly? Andy’s heard enough bullshit from Neal’s mouth to last a lifetime, especially given the unpredictability of this profession.
“Anyway, Frank–remind Mr. Logiudice here of the promise I made if he didn’t handle the Mid-Atlantic account like I told him to,” Andy gestures to Neal, the man covered in grime, a noticeable layer of sweat, and blood that’s both new and old. Sometimes, Andy would use elongated violence as a last resort, opting to focus on handling things quietly and quickly so he could move onto his next task. Though it’s classified as a last resort, Neal is a special case.
Franklin Costello—Frank or Frankie—looks over at Andy with a faint smirk on his angular face. A scar splits the hairs of his thick left brow, causing the solidly built man to look even more intimidating than the crossed arms and stoic expression. Yet, that same expression morphs into a sly smile when And tells him to step in, might as well seeing as though the cleaning crew hasn’t hit this room yet; one can understand the drunken feeling of power that arises from this fact.
“Well, I think ya mentioned a long life where breathin’ s’gonna take some more effort, Ace,” Frank responds, eyes moving back to Neal who looks like he’s about to add to the already embarrassing puddle of piss beneath his chair. Eyes running down the wet trail, Frank whistles low and shakes his head at the sight. “But it seems like we’ve nabbed two birds—guy’s practically incontinent at this point.”
Neal lets out an aggravated huff through the rag, tugging on his binds as if wanting to get up and fight Frank for the crude comment.
Pissing yourself after talking such a big game for so long must’ve been so emasculating–dehumanizing, even. However, Andy couldn’t give less of a shit after Neal attempted to let a chunk of the Mid-Atlantic account fall through for his own selfish gain. From his point of view, one’s character is irredeemable after unjustifiable betrayal–it cannot go without punishment.
“Ain’t that somethin’ though, Frankie?” Andy asks rhetorically, sparing a glance at his lifelong friend who hums in response. It’s a subtle encouragement for him to go ahead and elaborate. “I mean, of course there’s only one way tonight will end.”
Beginning to take small steps around the dimly lit space, Andy revels in the way Neal attempts to follow his form with each slow stride.
“But let’s take a moment to appreciate the irony of this situation.”
Standing behind the uncomfortable chair, Andy caught a stronger whiff of Neal’s odiferous scent. At this point, it’s clear that no one is keeping track of how long they’ve been down here; perhaps the men posted outside the soundproof door know, but it’s not vital information to the situation at hand–not vital to Andy in the slightest.
That much was clear by the head of the family not only handling this situation himself (rather than one of his associates), but taking his precious time like it is the most inexpensive thing in the world.
“Our good, old friend here took our family’s trust for weakness,” Andy claps both of his hands on Neal’s shoulders, a small, devilish grin on his face when the dilapidated man lets out an audible groan of pain from the harsh treatment. “And now he’s not even strong enough to not...help me out here?”
“Shit the bed?” Frank jokes, and Andy points a finger as if remembering the right word after searching for decades.
“That’s it...Y’gonna shit the bed, Neal? Thought you were a big man...isn’t that what you said?” Leaning down so he speaks right next to his face, Andy applies pressure to the wounds–in Neal’s shoulders–that no doubtedly need to be cleaned. However, kindness and hospitality are not awarded to those who say things like the following. “Didn’t you say that you’d have my body at the bottom of a river? You’d become the head of the family? I just find it funny...seeing as though you’re strapped to this chair like a bitch.”
Neal tries to move out of Andy’s hold, groaning as his body protests the harsh movements. He’s battered, and his fighting is the definition of fruitless–but it’s still amusing to see him try.
‘I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.’
At the pathetic claim, Andy stands at full height and wears a smirk when he catches Frank beginning to snort at the empty threat.
“Glad you’ve still got some humour in ya, Logiudice. S’just another light to put out,” Andy muses, clapping his hands on the man’s shoulders one last time for good measure before moving from behind him.
When he stands next to his second in command again, a familiar wave of disinterest washes over him. Neal Logiudice was nothing but a dog–one who was given too much slack on the leash until it snapped. It was a wasted investment, one that Andy vows to never make again when surmising that he can’t be bothered with this situation anymore.
“Think m’gonna let Benji have his fun with you, know the kid’s been itchin’ to try out that new stiletto knife he got for his birthday,'' Andy ponders, tilting his head to the head slightly as he looks Neal up and down with a blank expression on his face. In fact, he doesn’t react when he notices the shift in the battered man’s demeanor when the idea comes out into the open air.
Had he not been so trained in reading people, Andy might’ve mistaken Neal’s briefly widened eyes and dissatisfied grunt for something other than it was: fear.
Though Benji was one of the younger members of the family, always searching for Andy’s, Frank’s, or Aunt Nellie’s approval–it’d be a disservice to overlook the lethal nature embedded in his system. Growin up, Benji was the definition of a kid with a bad temper, always looking to fight because he was seen as the runt of the group; everyone knows the runts are the ones who present as the easiest target, but Benji made damn sure to break that stigma as soon as his growth spurt hit and he realized he could fight with more than just his hands.
Giving Benji something to play with–torment, was like giving a lion a broken legged gazelle on a silver platter; he was one secret weapon of many, and he knew the definition of loyalty–he was a Costello man after all.
‘Barber, you coward!’
Andy vaguely registers the insult, pausing his exit out of the door when he hears it. No one speaks for a moment, and it seems as though the tables might turn. Perhaps this is a moment where Andy will snap, breaking the cool, detached composure he exudes on a regular basis. However, to Frank’s disappointment, Andy doesn’t move from his position by the door, merely turns his head and begins speaking.
“You ever hear about what they do to women and child abusers in prison? How it’d be merciful to just grant ‘em a quick death?”
There’s a pause and it’s another rhetorical question, one that everyone knows the answer to.
“Benji doesn’t know the meaning of mercy, and I intend to let him keep you for as long as he pleases.”
Neal’s shouts of protests go from heard to dead silent as soon as Andy and Frank leave the room, shutting the door closed.
Betrayal cannot go unpunished, and Neal knew that. He brought this upon himself, so remorse is nonexistent when Andy tells one of his men to call for Benji and tell him the playpen is open. Remorse is nonexistent when Andy walks besides Frank in silence, mind somewhere else—on something else…someone else.
His mind has been on someone else for the past two months, in fact.
“Wanna grab a drink?”
It isn’t until they reach the office, at the end of the hall, that Frank breaks the silence first, closing the cherry wood door behind him with a soft click. The room isn’t small–it’s modest: enough space for a standing wardrobe, desk, and two chairs meant for guests.
Nothing like his office at the estate, but then again, this was an off the books operation, so that meant using an unmarked safehouse; out in the near middle of nowhere, it took seclusion to another meaning.
Neal knew he wouldn’t be leaving, not in the same lively state that he arrived in.
“You drinkin’ again, buddy?” Andy lets out a small chuckle, opening up the wardrobe to grab a new shirt.
“Nah, but I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t at least sit with ya,” Frank’s eyes don’t leave Andy’s form, watching his friend move about the room as if on autopilot.
Andy’s throwing his dirty shirt on the seat of the chair, taking a new one off of the hanger just as smoothly. He’s done this more than enough times to do this blindfolded.
“I’m fine, Frankie,” Andy sighs, buttoning his shirt enough to his liking. Frank sits on the arm of one of the opposing chairs, remaining silent until Andy speaks again. “Seriously–I don’t need a therapist, alright?”
“Never said that, Andy...I’m just offering, as your only friend, to take you out for a drink. ‘Cause honestly–for the past couple of weeks, it seems like you’re hung up on somethin’ that was temporary.”
Andy pauses for a moment, hand hovering before he’s grabbing his jacket from the back of the seat. It feels heavy in his hands, and it will probably add to the weight on his shoulders he ignores vehemently.
“Don’t you have a wife to go home to, Costello?”
It’s a deflection, but Frank plays anyway.
“Don’t let Gio hear you implyin’ she’s a ball ‘n chain, Barber. She can be worse than Benji–”
“And you married her–”
“Damn right, I did,” Frank cuts off with a chuckle, and Andy shakes his head while chuckling in return. Readjusting his positioning on the chair’s arm, Frank watches his friend shrug on the jacket.
Even after knowing him for so long, picking up on Andy’s hidden tells was still a struggle at times; sorting through the blank expressions, fluid movements, and whatever else was like sorting through black clothing in the dark. However, Frank could tell that he struck a nerve from his previous comment, but he doesn’t care.
Andy’s been distracted, and it’s lasted too long.
“I’m serious though. If something’s happening–say something...or at least just let me into what’s goin’ on. We can’t afford you being elsewhere, but I think you know that already,” Frank explains calmly, readjusting his arms that remain crossed over his broad chest. Smoothing out his jacket, Andy rolls his head from one side to another in an attempt to crack some of the kinks.
“Nothin’s happening with me–you’ve been askin’ me the same questions for weeks now. If somethin’ were happening, don’t you think I would’ve ‘said something’ by now?” Andy sighs out, placing one hand on his hip while the other grips the back of his chair to brace some of his weight.
“You’re the same kid that broke his ankle fallin’ out of my treehouse and tried to hide it from your dad. The epitome of suffering in silence.”
“I don’t suffer in silence,” Andy argues, drumming his fingers on the back of his chair; Frank merely scoffs in return before standing at his full height.
“Right...And you didn’t try to use your position to find information on a random woman either.”
Andy remains silent at that, knowing it’s the truth. Had anyone else spoken to him like this, had anyone else called him out in such a blunt way–Andy would’ve checked them before they could even think to step toward the door.
However, this was Franklin Costello–Frankie.
Though a little less than three years his senior, Frank and Andy somewhat grew up together. Seeing as though he was an only child, Frank was like the older brother Andy never had–causing trouble and keeping him out of it when the time permits. Frankie was the troubled kid with a good heart, and Andy was...something different.
Either way, Frank wasn’t just anybody else.
“Have a good night, Frankie,” Andy huffs, clapping a hand on his old friend’s shoulder as he walks past. They share a look, one that hints at opposite sides of the spectrum: this conversation is/isn’t over.
“What about that drink, Ace?” Frank calls gently, turning his head to catch Andy before he can fully leave the run down office.
“I’m gonna go ‘n get one,” Andy starts, turning the knob and only casting a glance when he’s stepping out of the door. “You’re gonna go home to your ball ‘n chain.”
It wasn’t lost on him that he was alone.
He felt it when he’s had too close of encounters, on the brink of travelling over into whatever comes next, that he realized he didn’t have someone who loved him back home. He didn’t have someone to mourn him to the depths of their core, to care that his heart could stop beating in that moment.
Andy had the family, but he no longer had a family–aside from his grand-aunt; he wanted it, but he didn’t have what Frank had at the very least.
So, it wasn’t lost on him that he was alone, in that sense. In the literal one, he had someone with him nearly at all times–making sure he was guarded despite being the most trained out of all of them.
For what is a king without a few pawns?
“I’ll take another–double, thanks,” Andy rasps, pushing forward the small square napkin with the freshly emptied glass on top.
The truth is, he’s tired of being alone. It’s a pathetic feeling when he acknowledges it, letting a small feeling of dread wash over him. It’s even more pathetic that his mind wanders back to you, the way you seemed to wrap him around your finger in less than eighteen hours.
“Drinking to get drunk or what?”
Her voice is on the higher side, not enough to make one cringe but enough to not want to hear her pull a filibuster anytime soon.
The bartender slides over what Andy asked for, already knowing it was meant to be added to the nonexistent tab he won’t have to settle. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he’s numb to the feeling or simply used to it by now.
“Or what,” He replies, finally looking at her after he’s taken a generous sip. Even in the dim lighting, her hazel eyes seemed to pierce him.
She has a cocktail in her hand, red painted nails wrapped around the glass as she leans against the bar. Her arms are placed in a manner to accentuate her cleavage, but Andy doesn’t pay it any mind.
At his response, she hums with a slight upturn of her slender nose; a small smile ghosts her lips as she takes a step closer, and Andy catches a whiff of a perfume that’s much too sweet for his olfactory.
“‘M guessin’ you’re not the bride to be,” He mumbles, scanning her frame up and down: heels, dress, sash, tiara–bridesmaid.
“I love an observant man,” She gushes teasingly, adding a little giggle at the end as she moves even closer to him. “Don’t worry, sugar–I most certainly am on the market when it comes to you.”
Her wink is accompanied with another giggle, and Andy wonders how many of those drinks she’s had.
“What’s your name?”
“It’s Carmen, but you can call me whatever,” She breathes out, trying to sound sultry even though her words are two sips away from slurring together. Flipping some hair over her shoulder, Andy watches her fiddle with the sash wrapped around her body as she speaks.
It’s obvious to anyone in a ten mile radius that Carmen is trying to flirt with him; the key word is trying.
Sure, he could admit that she was pretty: nice hair, nice legs, nice face, nice nearly everything. However, he didn’t feel tempted in the slightest, didn’t feel a need nor want to indulge in a conversation with her. To be frank, Andy has known her for less than three minutes, and he already finds her incredibly boring for some reason.
Comparisons are never fair.
“Ha! Right…” Andy trails off for a moment, giving himself more time to be silent by pretending to check her out. It was not his plan to lead her on, but he was trying to get rid of her without potential blowback in the form of a bruised ego; something tells him that Carmen isn’t used to rejection.
“Where’s the rest of your entourage?”
At his question, Carmen’s turning her head to see behind her, moving as though she’s searching for something or someone in particular.
“Mmmm...Oh! My friends are right over there, see?” She explains, pointing towards an area that’s roped off next to the burlesque performance stage.
Andy follows the direction of her finger, and he sees a small group of women sporting similar tiaras and sashes; they’re all sat around the table, some not facing him, as they seem to giggle and remain in their own world. He doesn’t look for long, blue eyes finding Carmen in a matter of moments.
“Maybe you should go and join them before the show begins,” Andy suggests, nodding his head to the group that more than likely is stealing glances and stifling giggles from a sight that looks like flirting from a distance.
“You gonna come with?” Carmen playfully taunts, and he finds it endearing that she thinks she can sway him with a simple toss of her hair and giggle that verges on a beat too long.
He knows the game, and he plays it well. Truthfully, this woman isn’t a challenge, and can be played like a fiddle. This woman isn’t memorable in his mind, so he simply indulges in her little fantasy with an empty, hopeful proposition.
Leaning forward and resting his body weight slightly on the bar, Andy looks her figure up and down before sporting a charming smirk.
“Tell you what, if you get your cute little ass back to your friends in the next minute–I’ll cover your ladies’ drinks for the rest of the night.”
At the sound of free drinks, Carmen perks up a bit. Evidently she takes a moment to weigh her options: selfishly continue the fruitless quest of getting into his bed or share the wealth with the women she claims to be close with.
Brownie points towards her character for taking the latter route instead of the former.
You’ve always enjoyed the art of burlesque.
Maybe it was the theatrics. Maybe it was the dynamic singing. Maybe it was the pretty pretty costumes that you debated wearing or ripping off.
Maybe it was everything in between, the details.
Either way, you’ve always enjoyed it, and you were more than self-indulgent to suggest the bachelorette party be held here. In your opinion, eye candy came in all forms, and you thoroughly believed Giovanna's was the perfect way to go out before the old ball and chain came into effect.
“Thanks for joining us, Carm,” You call, jutting your chin out with a grin as she slides into the booth across from you.
She rolls her eyes at your playful chide, readjusting her body position to get comfortable once again. Of course, there’s a round of cheers, giggles of excitement, and brief clapping when it’s revealed that your drinks are covered for the rest of the night. However, your interest doesn’t fully spike until your friend is searching for the mystery donor, only to distantly point at the figure who seemed to slink into one of the floor seats.
The gait is familiar, and your heart skips at the thought of your assumptions being right. If you are right, then tonight is about to become much more entertaining for you.
“You get your sugar daddy’s number?” Beatriz teases her twin, enjoying the subtle flush that graces her face.
“No...I got us drinks, and I’m pretty sure that guy is like celibate or something...I mean I threw out so many signs, and he didn’t take any of the bait,” Carmen all but whines, a small pout coming soon after as she twirls the umbrella in her new drink.
You refrain from smirking, not wanting to seem like an asshole in response to her failed attempt of going home with someone, but you can’t deny the budding pride that’s about to bloom in your chest. Carmen’s always been the one to ditch the group any chance possible, finding male validation more important than solidarity. So, it was refreshing for a change to see the tables turn, especially when you consider her offhand comments about others being bitter towards her confident personality and unwavering looks.
“You’ll get the next one, I’m sure, fish in the sea and all that,” You muse with the lackadaisical wave of a hand, just before the lights further dim in the burlesque lounge. Unintentionally, you miss the look Carmen gives you at your underlying sarcasm, but it isn’t as though you would’ve cared about it anyway.
The stage is illuminated by a single, soft red light after the curtains are drawn; an hourglass silhouette awaits the attentive crowd, and the music is slow to begin.
For once though, you’re not focused on the dancers and performers–not fully. Instead, your eyes are lingering on the man who seemed to settle into his chair comfortably, but there was a lingering hollowness in his presence that needed to be filled with something–or someone.
What they say is true about the varying perspectives of predators and prey: cognizance.
I wanna be loved by you, just you
And nobody else but you
“Think I might cash in on a drink,” You say quietly, just loud enough for your girls to hear without disrupting the performance. Fixing your plastic tiara and the sash around your form, you maneuver yourself out of the rounded booth with ease and slip into the shadowed area of Giovanna's.
Out of your peripheral, you can see the woman mouth along to the soft voice of Marilyn Monroe while lustfully dancing. In any other instance, she would have your full attention without a doubt. Yet, in this instance, you’re a woman on a subtle mission–a hungry one.
I couldn’t aspire, to anything higher
Than, to fill the desire to make you my own
A closer look, a confirmation of your assumptions, is why you’re acting on your impulses. If you’re completely frank with yourself, a part of you was hoping that you’d see him again.
A firm believer in interconnectivity and if things were meant to be then they will be, you slipped away from him while he slept comfortably; though, it should be said that you felt reluctance this time, wondering if he pouts upon first waking up and if he enjoys fingers through his soft tendrils to help rouse him.
A closer look turns into you glossing over the increased pounding in your chest. Even in the indirect lighting, you recognize the long slope of his lashes and the plush bottom lip that holds a small pout in his profile. You also recognize the distant shadow, someone who must be a protector of some sorts.
However, prey can only stay protected for so long.
I wanna be loved by you, alone
Many would shrink back at the thought of engaging in something so bold, but you weren’t like many; the beat of your own drum should’ve been carved on your forehead when you were first born. At least, that’s what your father likes to joke about when your difference from your older siblings comes into play. Let it be known that it was never said out of maliciousness but pride.
You know it’s him: Andrew Barber.
The universe has a funny way of speaking to you, letting you know that some people are destined to cross your path and add something to your life. It wouldn’t be far off for you to take this occurrence as a sign–right place, right time, right circumstances. Too many things seem right for you to ignore the opportunity in front of you, one telling you that one night truly wouldn’t be enough to satiate whatever was left.
To make you my own
Again, many wouldn’t think to move so boldly, but you viewed life as too short to not simply be impulsive from time to time. Also, having a one up on Carmen would be an additional bonus.
So, before he could even think to see you, you’re moving out of his line of vision fully; you take calculated steps in a natural pattern, but the hook, line, and beautiful sinker is you gently dragging your middle and ring fingers across the expanse of his shoulders. There’s no doubt that he felt your touch, his body becoming highly alert the minute your nail grazed his blazer. However, you don’t look back after your fingers fall from his frame, you simply keep on walking towards the bar and explaining to the bartender that your drink is meant to go on someone else’s tab.
You order a round of shots for your table, and as you wait for your specific drink to be made–the thin hairs on your back feel like they’re on edge from someone looking at you for an extended period of time.
It doesn’t take much thought for you to know it’s him looking at you from afar, but you pretend to throw all of your interest into the woman on stage for a moment. Although, you’re soon thanking the bartender for your drink while readjusting your tiara once again; the drink burns going down your throat, but it doesn’t phase you.
I wanna be loved by you
It’s too tempting to not glance over, to not see if the potential for a repeat affair was in the cards. When you do, though, steal a glance, your heart slows at the sight of him not looking at you; at this revelation, you don’t feel disappointed–if anything, you feel challenged.
“Would you mind taking these to my table? I’ve gotta run to the powder room,” You request with a hint of sweetness, the kind that’s nearly impossible to decline. Though there’s some hesitancy, the bartender ends up looking over at her coworker before turning back to you and nodding with a shy smile.
The kiss you blow is simply for good measure and not because you wanted to fluster her a bit more, of course.
One thing you’ve always prided yourself on is being ahead of the game, any semblance of the curve. When others were getting their footing, you were already cutting the ribbon at the finish line. Reading people for whom they were, whom they tried to be, and whom they weren’t was a natural skill that you had no problem boasting about when the appropriate moment arose.
So, in your gut, you believed that if you presented some of the same variables–then Mr. Barber would fall right into the equation. For example, the dimly lit lounge, the bustle of a main act, you slinking off into the offshoot corridor where the bathrooms were located–same variables, similar equation.
You believed he’d follow you, but that never stops the small nagging voice of you embarrassing yourself coming to life.
Him being an attractive man wasn’t lost on you–hell, it couldn’t be lost on anyone with the way that he carries himself. It wasn’t lost on you, but it didn’t deter you from your confidence because you knew that you were more than attractive yourself.
Game recognizes game, and your gut is nearly never wrong.
“Now, it could just be me, but m’feelin’ some deja vu here. I might even call it fate.”
The words don’t slip out until you’ve pretty much caught him red handed, confirming your multilayered assumptions and suspicions. Still, he slips into the space across from you with a confident ease, as if he belonged there all along–mirroring your bold personality with an energy once inexperienced.
Andy doesn’t say anything at first, merely looks you over. Blue eyes trail up your fresh pedicure, strappy heels, bare legs, flattering dress, the cheesy bachelorette wear, and so on; truthfully, that one action was enough to make you feel warm all over, and you find yourself refraining from shifting your weight from one heeled foot to another.
“Hello, cara mia,” He hums warmly, taking a step forward that prompts you to take a step back; the distance between you and the wall is much shorter than you originally anticipated.
Not that you’d visibly admit it to him, his presence makes you feel a sense of nervousness–or perhaps it’s excitement of the unknown. Either way, this instance was thrilling to you, something that you didn’t realize you were missing until just now.
There’s something different this time around, a shift in the dynamic.
However, all you can really do is await his next move, attempt to figure out what kind of game the two of you will no doubtedly play this time around.
“So, you can speak Italian,” You decipher gently, acknowledging the name he called you in the foreign language. It makes you somewhat nervous, coupled with the lustfully analytic look he’s currently giving you. “Pleasant surprise, Mr. Barber.”
The lame attempt at filling the silence surprises you–a stark contrast to the wit you naturally possess. However, you’re nonetheless thankful Andy doesn’t comment on it–doesn’t tease you. Rather, he simply takes another careful step forwards and settles on something more interesting.
“Mmm, good memory, but I think the surprise is seeing you in a place like this,” He accuses playfully, voice sounding like warm honey by the fire. The whole situation is dangerous–this alone reigning as enough to have you caving for him again; you want to remember how it felt to be underneath or on top–to remember the damn lightshow he set off within you.
He’s dangerous, but you are as well.
“Now, why’s that?”
Sounding just as playful, you slide your hands against the wall to rest behind your back; subsequently, your body bows into his just a bit, and you enjoy the way his mouth quirks at the pet name. His face doesn’t betray any other emotion.
Another careful step, and he’s a hair away from slotting a thigh between your legs. It’d be so easy for him, and you’re running warm already.
“Tell me why you’re here,” Andy says, slightly nodding his head towards you in suspense of your answer. There’s no room for you to question his avoidance of your own curiosity, but still you somewhat comply.
“Bachelorette party,” You shrug, leaning into the wall and creating some distance.
“Mmm...That doesn’t sound like the whole truth,” He analyzes, and it’s then you notice his hands are tucked in the pockets of his tailored slacks. Andy can dress, and his stance is intimidating; it should make you cower and fess up whatever information to appease him, but you were never one to throw in the towel and raise a flag so easily.
“What can I say…” You start carefully, now moving your hands to fiddle with your sash. Even in the dim lighting, you don’t miss the way his blue eyes flicker to you catching your bottom lip between your teeth briefly. “Maybe I just like it when pretty girls dance for me.”
You weren’t lying in the slightest, but something tells you that Andy is–or was–hoping to hear something else. In this regard, you have nothing left to spare, but it seems like the moment passes when he lets out another hum at your comment before verging on crowding your space.
“You weren’t going to say hello if your little friend, Cameron, didn’t give it a try, huh?”
Another accusation, but this one has you letting out a slight scoff.
“First, it’s Carmen, which I’m sure you know. Second, I’m not jealous,” You huff, unknowingly easing up off the wall so your chest grazes against his. The outburst is small, but Andy’s smirk is devilish and wider than the sunset horizon.
Predator. Prey. Cat catching the canary. Cognizance.
“Who said anything about you being jealous, cara mia?”
He set a trap, and like a fool, you walked into it with zero resistance. Of course, you’re only realizing this after the fact, but you choose to feign ignorance and deflect.
“Perhaps I should go back to my little friends if you’re going to be boring and arrogant tonight,” You sigh out with faux disappointment.
Up until this point, it’s clear the two of you are skirting around something akin to an elephant lingering in the room. Up until this point, neither of you have purposefully revealed the cards clutched tightly to respective chests.
The truth is, you were testing him with your next move, and your heart catapults to your throat when he surpasses your expectations.
Barely three steps are taken before he’s halting your movements and firmly pressing your back into the wall. The gasp you let out is small, but he hears it above the muffled swoon of the speakers surrounding the stage. Suddenly, to you at least, it feels much warmer in this hallway.
“No need to run off,” He starts, looking from your eyes down the slope of your nose. It’s only natural for your tongue to briefly dart out when his eyes drift a bit further. “Not when you have nowhere else to be.”
Had it been anyone else, the certainty in his words would’ve set off about five red flags in your mind; then there’d be a bonus flag for the grim convenience of the tucked away space. However, the look he gave you, the warm hand on your hip, and the blood coursing through your veins highlights a blatant ideology: you are not the predator.
“What am I? Your prisoner?”
There’s a subtle clench in his jaw beneath the well groomed beard.
“I’d have your name by now if I wanted you as a prisoner,” He muses lowly, and you wish you could squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the growing ache. There’s some truth in what he said, and his claim makes you realize the oddity of this situation.
The two of you met at an exclusive jazz opening–one by hand picked invitation from Artie Abrahms only. You placed a bet, went home with him, and had sex–one for the books sex. You slipped out of his bed, his home, his orbit miraculously undetected. Then the two of you haven’t had contact again until now.
Through all of that, he still didn’t know your name.
A testament to his patience perhaps.
You only think to wane it a bit more.
“Not sure if you’ve earned clearance to that sensitive information, hermoso,” You silently huff, an airiness of harmless teasing lingering in your tone. In response, Andy lets out a small laugh, but your smirk falters when he presses himself further into your body.
Something about the way he speaks is alluring.
Fading into an accented drawl, dropping terms of endearment in a language you’re more than rusty in–he ran circles around you in his own way.
The hand on your hip gives you a gentle squeeze before he’s rubbing small circles in your side with his thumb. Scanning your face, he attempts to search for an answer in the initial silence you give him.
Were you challenging him?
The two of you barely know each other, but–
“Amore,” He murmurs, grasping your full attention quietly. His free hand moves to cup your face, and you only melt into his touch more when he runs the pad of his thumb across your glossed lower lip. Little do you know the doe eyes you give him will be one of the weapons he will never fail to surrender to. “Be honest with me, hmm?”
His request isn’t condescending, but it’s evident that you are not the one with the wolfish teeth; the reality thrills you more than it should.
“Mmkay,” You hum back, refraining from taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking.
The time will come eventually, you’re sure.
“You want to come home with me, do you not?”
A question portrayed as a fact; the only way you can describe his delivery of the seven words. Beats of silence pass, and you ponder while mirroring his actions of analyzing features.
“I’m here with my girlfriends, sir. It’d be rude of me to ditch them for someone I barely know.”
Your voice is soft, wrapping around your carefully stated words nicely. However, Andy doesn’t seem to care about what you’ve said, reading through your woefully poor excuse with an almost trained ease.
“Thought I told you to be honest with me,” He says, an amused lilt in his tone as he pulls you a little closer to him. Your hands grasp onto his jacket, and it’s odd that his gaze makes you feel more royal than the plastic tiara sitting atop your head. Fitting that Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend begins echoing through the stage speakers, no doubt being performed by a woman that deserves her photo as a headline.
“I am being honest, Mr. Barber.”
The French are glad to die for love
They delight in fighting duels
But I prefer a man who lives, and gives expensive jewels
You wonder how long you’ve been tucked away back here with Andy. Time and space seem to float away with him; it could be your salvation or your doom.
“Your friend didn’t seem to to mind leaving your entourage–”
“I’d like to think I’m better than Carmen,” You cut him off, already hating being compared to the woman you put up with for the sake of her beloved twin, Beatriz. Bea was perhaps your best friend, the one that would break your heart irreparably if any form of betrayal occurred.
A kiss on the hand, may be quite continental
“In more ways than one,” He agrees easily, tilting your head back just a bit to get you to get a clever look at your face. “I’m just letting you know it’s alright to be selfish, mio piccolo fuoco.”
His words resonate with you instantly, and your grip on him tightens a tad before you’re melting into him; the somewhat familiar pet name should not have made you feel such a large wave of weakness.
But diamonds are a girl’s best friend
“Come home with me,” Andy says softly, drawing you in like a snake in the grass. It’s strange that you’re willing for his venom to take residence in your veins, prompting you to succumb to his will in exchange for prizes you couldn’t once think of. “Let me earn your name.”
Perhaps it was the dry spell, or the underlying truth of him never leaving your mind since the last time he worked you open for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny yourself the overwhelming amount of pleasure that you could potentially receive. There’s no denying that you want him–want to have him indulge in something you’ve been craving since you slipped away from him the first time; it was one time too many.
Your girlfriends are too caught up in going to another strip club to feel bummed about your subtraction of presence, most of them blowing you a kiss of good luck while Carmen looks you over with skeptical eyes when you don’t spare any more of the specified details.
Though you’ve had a couple in you tonight, it’d be an exaggeration to say that you were drunk. Coherency and clear-headedness still rested in your palm, so in your case–it was easy for you to recognize the familiar aspects of the home he’s brought you back to tonight.
If you sat back and thought about it, Andy’s presence has never felt imposing to you, never felt unsafe. However, that doesn’t sway your mind from recognizing this scenario as evidently different from the last.
“You’re staring,” You call out playfully, keeping your gaze forward as you remain barefoot on the balcony; you didn’t have the chance to enjoy it last time, too caught up in other activities. A small chill crawls up your neck at his huff of a laugh, the sound of his footsteps joining you outside follows soon after.
“So sure of yourself,” He lilts, and you can feel his warmth from how close he is to you. Subsequently, you can also smell the same woodsy cologne that made your head spin from the last time; you’re thankful he doesn’t tease you for already leaning into his touch when he first gives it.
“Notice how you didn’t deny it.”
He doesn’t respond to that, hands instead finding space on your now tiara and sash free body to pull you back into him. The curve of your ass molds into his front easily, and Andy’s humming in content before dipping his head to press a kiss to the free space just behind your ear.
Like always, you smell of cinnamon and cocoa butter, skin smooth and sweet when touched by his mouth. If he planned on keeping you here for a while, touching you like this might make you compliant in that plan.
“Did you think of me?” Andy murmurs along the shell of your ear, and you let your own hand rest over his on the juncture of your hip and thigh–his fingers dip into the crevice of your bikini line over your dress. His other hand creeps up to cup your breast, making sure you were flush against him.
“Once or twice,” You whisper the lie, leaning your head to the side to give him more access to your neck. His mouth alone crossed your mind more than a few times in the couple of months since your last encounter.
“Are you going to tell me your name, mio piccolo fuoco?” He asks just as low, this time dipping his hand down to touch the bare skin underneath your dress; the action is enough to pull you impossibly closer to him, and you’re vigilant in making sure your leg doesn’t tremble underneath his touch. You bite your lip at the feeling of him gently grasping at your breast, your own hand covering his own as you start to back yourself up into him.
“I thought I told you to earn it, hermoso.”
Still resilient, even when he’s about to have you so vulnerable for him.
Once again, Andy lets out a huff of a chuckle, but it’s clear that he’s verging on no longer letting you play this frivolous game of acting like you don’t want him–don’t crave him just as badly as he craves you. He’s verging on no longer letting you play the game of acting like you don’t–
“Oh, I plan on doing so,” He starts, and you can feel him smirk against your neck at the sudden gasp you let out from him pushing you forward into the solid structure of the balustrade, balcony railing. Immediately your hands shoot out to brace yourself, but it wasn’t as though he would’ve let you fall–his hands find your waist as his chest presses into your back again.
Your legs are now spread open slightly, his own fitting between yours with ease as he continues:
“But will you open yourself up for me?”
You can’t stifle the pitiful whimper as he lowly drawls in your ear, cementing the notion of the intentional double meaning of his words as he sinks to his knees.
The awareness of exactly where you are doesn’t dawn on you until he’s roughly pushed the fabric of your dress over your ass, exposing your already aching heat to the chill of the nighttime air. You’ve never been overly shy about your body, but the fact that you’re so willing to have this man touch you out in the open like this is new; the fact that his comment about you not wearing any panties again makes your cheeks warm is new. It’s new, and the thought of someone potentially catching or watching Andy prove himself sets off an unfamiliar wave of arousal–one that you can’t remember experiencing with someone else.
Andy’s hands smooth up the back of your thighs, resting at the natural line where your ass starts until they creep a bit further; your nails gently scrape against the expansive railing at the feeling of his thumbs digging into your crevice before he’s spreading your most intimate parts open for him.
You clench around nothing after a moment, and the tightening of his grip on your flesh is the only warning you receive for what he plans on doing to you.
“Andy,” You breathe out, voice starting to shake from how easily he dragged his tongue along the entire length of your slit; it doesn’t surprise you that he doesn’t respond, but you’re still letting out another breath from him wrapping his lips around your clit in a sloppy kiss.
When he initially sank to his knees, you were already wet for him, but he was making sure to leave a mess between your thighs anyway. You’re sure of it from the way he gives you no warning when delving his stiffened tongue into your hole, making sure to not leave your clit neglected by reaching a thumb up to rub deliberate circles into the bundle of nerves.
Andy eats you as if he hasn’t been blessed with the taste of pussy in years, moans into your folds and just lets his tongue and overall mouth explore the nectar between your soft thighs.
“Baby, oh fuck yes–don’t-don’t stop,” You choke out, a squeak of a moan breaking through your words in response to a particular harsh swipe of his thumb against your clit just as he wriggled his tongue as deep as he could within you. It causes you to moan and whine out into the night, holding onto the balcony railing for dear life as you start to move your stance to the balls of your bare feet.
Your knees buckle soon after at the sound of a blatant crack, and for a moment–you feel overheated from the warmth that floods your body and ends in you leaking even more for the man behind you.
“Don’t run from me, bella,” It’s nothing short of a growl, and he keeps you stable by kneading the flesh he planned on spanking again–unbeknownst to you. “Take what I give you.”
Something tells you it’s the only time he plans on formally warning you, because he proceeds to tongue down your slick folds as if you were honey dripping from a ripe strawberry.
The circles are now tighter against your clit, and you’ve begun to subconsciously nudge your ass back into his face in hopes of chasing your inevitable high quicker. Andy only groans into your pussy, tongue laving over your hole before diving back into you once again. You’re openly trembling, the coil within your stomach tightening as he moves with your desperate motions.
“S’good s’good, así así así, m’gonna c-cum…” Your voice dies into a mewl, and he decides to use the ball of his hand to push against your clit while his fingers splayed across your exposed mound. The small squeal that leaves you echoes throughout the vastness of the balcony, and Andy’s deep tone reverberates against your pussy.
“Go ahead, the night is young.”
He uses his free hand to keep you spread for him whilst burying his face between your folds, sloppily leaving no part of your cavern explored. His actions have the coil in your stomach tightening to the point of snapping, and you’re reaching back with one finger to tangle your manicured fingers into his styled hair.
Your thighs quiver, and you’re sure to let him know how good he’s making you feel through the string of curses that easily leave your mouth.
The orgasm isn’t earth shattering, doesn’t fog your mind to the point of utter exhaustion, but it’s definitely enough to make it hard for you to stay standing when Andy spares you no reprieve.
“A-Andy...mmph,” You grunt out in a gasp, slamming both of your hands down onto the balcony railing when he lays another spank to your warm cheek and continues to eat you out. He grunts into your heat, and it feels like the only way you haven’t fallen is by the grace of him keeping you upright so that he could proceed to ravish you the way he desires. “Oh God.”
You feel sensitive, so very sensitive, and it’s like he uses that to his advantage.
His tongue was dangerous on its own, but your eyes roll to the back of your head with a silent whine when he slips his finger into you with ease. Tongue and bottom lip still paying attention to your clit in a sucking motion, Andy explores your walls as they tremble around the digit .
“B-Baby, hold on...hold on–”
Your whispers are cut off with your audible whine, body bowing at Andy spanking you, pushing your body forward into the balcony, and slipping another finger into you.
“Such a nice pussy, dolcezza...So wet for me,” He praises while you clench around his fingers at the pet name, and all you can think to do is fuck yourself back onto his digits. You need it, need to reach that peak once again; distantly, a part of you feels frustration from slipping away while he was sleeping, for playing another game of fate because some things seem much too good to be true in your opinion.
“Yeah,” You sigh sweetly, slightly and absentmindedly nodding your head in response as he curls his fingers and rubs against that one spot that has you holding back the beginnings of tears.
“Gonna cum again?” He coos, noticing the space you were floating into was going to be fun to play with. Truthfully, you’re sure that he’s aware from the way you shudder, at him slipping a third finger in, that you are teetering on the edge quite embarrassingly. You look so pretty while you do it, look like a dream: legs flexing as you take his fingers, soft moans overpowering the sound of your arousal, dress bunched up to expose sheen layers of sweat, and your legs open for his touch alone.
“Yeah,” You sigh again, knees starting to cave as the truth of your condition was starting to physically manifest.
“Do you deserve it?”
He slows the pace of his fingers, words spoken against your bare thigh as he turns his head to press his cheek against you and look up to gauge your reaction. You hesitate, a hiccup of a gasp slipping out when he presses his fingers in deeper and works you open.
“Yes, hermoso..I–I deserve it,” You say softly, nodding as your eyes screw shut underneath the moonlight.
He doesn’t say anything, but you take your response in the form of him dipping his lips between your thighs to suckle your clit into his mouth. You take your response in the form of him managing to maneuver your body to bend farther forward so your body went into the railing but your cunt couldn’t escape his tongue and fingers.
“I deserve it I deserve it I deserve it I deserve it,” You pathetically whine under your breath, grinding yourself back into him as you fell over the edge without shame. His name left your mouth in a sob, for he devours you like a man who hasn’t been blessed with pussy for decades. He doesn’t stop until the delicious, awakening high melted into an ember that caused you to float.
He’s slow to stand up, and you openly welcome him turning your head so you could easily taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into it, reaching back to tug on his roots and ground yourself into him due to the lack of faith in your already wobbly legs.
Two orgasms and you’re still hungry for more, for something more filling.
It’s a wonder the man seems to read you without needing the exact paragraph from your book, because your loss in the kiss made you blissfully unaware of him undoing his slacks and freeing himself so he rests neatly against your ass.
“Stay still,” He grunts, hands shooting to still your moving hips in hopes to gain some friction to your weeping slit. He already feels heavy against you, and you feel excitement for the stretch you’ve forgotten. You’d never admit, but you didn’t have the time to have someone else since him.
Your head lolls to his shoulder as you breathe out your discontent, wanting to feel more than him gripping himself to drag his leaking tip between the folds of your slit. You don’t want it at this point, you need it; he needs it too.
“Shit, that’s it...relax for me...just–”
Andy’s initial thrust into you is the slowest one for the evening, your walls greedily massaging every vein, ridge, and inch of his girth while he makes sure to keep you bent and spread over the railing. You’re speechless from how good the stretch feels, feeling like a new level compared to the first time he had you.
“Look at how well you’ve taken me, such a good girl,” He muses, massaging your ass comfortingly before he begins to pull out. Your whine of protest was cut off by a large huff, the air feeling like it was knocked out of you when he bottomed out inside of you without warning.
The most you can muster are breathless pants as Andy starts fucking into you, pelvis bumping against your ass with each thrust. He’s impossibly hard, and you wonder if part of it stems from having you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. The same fingers that make their way into your mouth when you let out an especially loud chirp when he grinds himself into you.
Your nails shine in the outside light as your fingers wrap around his wrist, mouth salivating around his digits when you happily suck yourself off of hin,
“See how good I can make you feel? Taste it?” He says low in your ear, setting a deliberate pace that has you remembering just how sensitive he made you before slipping into your cunt.
You breathe through your nose as he shoves his fingers further down your throat, starting to rut into you even harder when you let out a guttural whimper that comes out as an affirmative to his question. It all feels so good, so very very good and it’s inevitable that you wouldn't be able to stave off the itch.
“Unph–mmph! ...Mmmm,” You mewl as you gush around him, the orgasm hitting you without remorse when the pain of your hip bumping into the balcony perfectly collides with his tip giving a generous kiss to your g-spot and the cervix. You can distantly hear him through the pounding in your ears, but you’re soon focused sputtering around his invasive fingers and clawing at the railing as he doesn’t stop carrying you through the high.
“M-More,” You blurt out, and that’s what causes him to falter his thrusts.
“I don’t give you enough? You need more like the little slut you are?”
It’d be a disservice to yourself to now play the role of coy; you were if it meant you got what you wanted–more. You want to say that you had the upper hand, since he complied with your request after slipping out of you–shrugging off the rest of his pants, and turning you around to face him. It’s a flurry of motions when he manages to hoist you up on the balcony, guiding himself into you with one hand as the other roughly grabs the back of your neck.
“Fuck you’re so–yesss,” You hiss out the words, hand clutching onto his bare forearm just before you can touch the rolled up sleeve. A storm races in his eyes, and you know that your own must be just as dilated when you look back at him. “Feel so–good.”
Andy’s hold around the back of your neck tightens every time he fully slides into you this time, brows furrowing in near disbelief from how your gooey warmth seems to mold to him like a sleeve while also squeezing in protest as if he was never meant to leave. Quite literally, it felt like he was digging you out, and you felt your head roll back as your free hand shot back to brace your body as you took his slow thrusts.
Your legs tightened around him, and he was evidently struggling with keeping his breathing in check.
“Mmm, s’deep, mi amor–s’deep inside me,” You speak airily when you finally look at him again, moving your hand from his forearm to his chest; you whimper from a deep thrust, and your fingers in turn clutch the metal chain resting beneath his open shirt briefly.
“Fucking me so good out here, hermoso. Making me feel so good,” You hum with a pout, slightly bucking your hips up into his thrusts in hopes to get even more friction.
Your words seem to entrance him like he’s done to you, because his look turns slightly dazed as you speak, up until he’s moving you from the balcony into his arms and moving the two of you back into the threshold of the french double doors–back into his room where he can lay you out beneath him on his bed.
You don’t know if it’s just as soft as the last time, because Andy’s mouthing at the newly exposed skin of your tits while swirling his hips between your spread open thighs. It feels like he’s everywhere and nowhere at once, like he’s desperate to make you insatiable for him yet so–
“It’s okay, I know you need to cum...Let me feel you again, pretty girl.”
It’s too much: his breath ghosting over your taut nipples, his pelvis grinding against your throbbing clit, how he manages to reach parts of you forgot existed, and the baritone of his voice telling you to simply release.
You do so with great pleasure.
He lets out a low cry at your nails finding the bare globes of his ass whilst he fucks you, but you’re merely holding him close to you as you dissolve into the fog that was destined to take you. You can’t bring yourself to feel bashful as you cream around him, the sound of how filthy you were starting to echo about the large room with every generous thrust Andy gives you.
“That’s it, there you go...doing so well making such a mess all over me...such a good hole to fuck,” He coos, holding himself deep within you as you spasm around him just a bit and a couple tears leak from the corner of your eye as you look back up at him. You can only muster breathless whimpers as he still thrusts slowly into you, letting you feel everything.
You moan a little louder when you look down and catch a glimpse of him disappearing inside of you. He’s still hard.
Your throat feels dry, but you don’t care. You don’t care when the sight of him above you–hair now tousled with rogue strands hanging in his face, eyes wild as he debates on seeing your expressions or how deep he was inside of you, and body flush with a crimson that makes you want to mark him up. Andy was a sight and you wanted to reward him, you wanted to show him that you could give as good as you got.
This time though, it feels like he’s challenging you to try and take him in your delicate state. Part of you wants to just let him fuck you into the mattress like you know he can, but other part wants to wipe that smirk off his face when he manages to settle your quivering body into his lap before you’re blowing out a low groan when he enters you again.
“Wow, mio piccolo fuoco, look at that,” He grunts out appreciatively, making you moan out with a huff at the feeling of him rutting his hips up one time. You hold onto his shoulders and hold his gaze, waiting for him to finish his thought already. “So willing for someone you barely know.”
You have no retort, only the response to start working yourself on him after he lays a hand on your tender ass. From this position, it feels like he’s even deeper, like he’s going to breach your stomach and kiss your ribcage eventually. You love it either way.
Andy looks up at you with awe in his eyes, mouth agape, hands roughly grabbing you while you ride him for all he is worth and then some. Grunts, curses, and moans echo throughout the room, and your grinding only adds the sound of the headboard sliding and hitting the wall from time to time.
The two of you descend into an animalistic kind of fucking, one that is nasty and leaves those involved without the feeling of being ruined for others to explore. You hold onto him like he’s your lifeline, unknowing of which cliff he’s going to push you over–only cognizant of him pulling you closer and subconsciously starting to fuck up into your thrusts.
“Such a greedy cunt, just giving it up so easy, huh?” He grunts, and you shudder when your swollen clit meets his sinful grind. His question goes verbally unanswered, but your drooling moan is more than enough for him. “Just letting me ruin it how I want?”
You can feel his lips on the column of your neck, tender for a moment before his kiss turns into a bite and you’re clenching around him like a vice.
‘Yes, baby! Please please please please please!’
You sound fucked–ruined. Little do you know he loves it.
“Fuuuuuck, m’gonna cum in this pretty little pussy,” He’s starting to sound like he’s out of breath. “Wanna...Gonna make you so damn full of me.”
You’re holding on by a thread and your willpower alone as you continue to work your abused hole onto his length over and over again.
“I want it...Please give it to me, hermoso,” You whine, and suddenly, Andy’s anchoring you down into him.
His lips wrap around your nipple, and he releases himself within you with a long groan. The warmth blooming sets off an orgasm that results in you milking him, causing the two of you to continue chasing the high of peaked pleasure.
Time seems like a distant construct even after the two of you have calmed down, bodies wrung out from how much you’ve taken from and given to one another. There’s no need to wonder if he felt just as needy as you did, the reluctance of him having to remove himself from you (so that he could attempt to get the two of you a small percentage of clean) was evident.
“Shh, shh...I know, cara mia, but I have to get you clean,” Andy murmurs softly when he’s finally dragging the warm, wet cloth between your messy thighs as you mewl from the oversensitivity in the faintest of touches. Your dress was now discarded elsewhere, perhaps closer to the location of your long forgotten shoes.
The fog still clouds your mind somewhat, but you realize that you need to tell him something. It, of course, comes out slightly slurred, but you feel certain that he heard you when his actions pause.
Had you not been so tired, perhaps you would’ve repeated yourself right then and laughed at how boyish he seemed at that moment. Hell, you didn’t know a lot about him, but something told you this easier side was not known by many. You don’t dwell on it though, simply melting into the side of the bed that wasn’t messy with Andy.
As you move to curl into him, settling into the natural heat his body provides, you let the word slip out of your swollen and pouty lips again. The thing that Andy didn’t know until now, even though you already had him hooked on you in one way or another.
Just like that, everything soon dissolved into Pandora and the box.
come and talk to me about this?
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Welcome to my first kinktober! I made a taglist for the kinktober
1st Edging — Sebastian Stan
3rd Spanking — Chris Evans
4th Role play — Ransom Drysdale
6th Degradation — Andy Barber
8th Possesive kink — Bucky Barnes
9th Daddy kink — Andy Barber
10th Breeding — Andy Barber
11th Sex Toys — Ransom Drysdale
13th Squirting — Sebastian Stan
15th Praise kink — Steve Rogers
16th Begging — Ari Levinson [𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱]
17th Cockwarming — Ransom Drysdale
20th Pussy eating — Chris Evans
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Desperate Affairs Masterlist
Engaged to Andy Barber, and deeming him too safe, and only wanting to be intimate to get you pregnant, you start a sex only relationship with Ransom Drysdale. Nothing is ever easy, and you get yourself into a web of lies. Are you the only one lying?
Part 1, Part 2, Part 2.5, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 6.5, Part 7, Part 8, Part 8.5, Jake Jensen, Part 9, Part 9.5, Meeting Andy, Part 10, Part 10.5, Girl Talk, Part 11, Part 11.5, Part 12, Part 12.5, Part 13, Part 13.5, Mrs. Barber, Part 14, Part 14.5, Part 15, Part 15.5, Part 16, Part 16.5, Ransom’s Girls, Part 17, Part 17.5, Part 18, Part 18.5, Camera Footage, Mary Adler, Part 19, Frank, Ransom, Andy, Part 20, Halloween, Part 21, Part 21.5, Part 22, Axel, Part 22.5, Thanksgiving, Deal, Part 23, Part 23.5, Part 24, Part 25 *BONUS* 💔THE END❤️
A/N: this is a dark!fic that is a cheating story. Each chapter will be tagged with warnings. There are moments of dub con/non con, cheating, secrets, lies, manipulations, mental health, death threats, abuse, death, etc. proceed with caution. YOU are the one responsible for the content you consume.
*This has a whole heap of Chris Evans characters! I did it, I got them all, minus his early early work!
Ransom Drysdale, Andy Barber, Robert “Mr. Freezy” Pronge, Steve Rogers, Jake Jensen, Frank Adler, Mike Weiss, Paul Diskant, Curtis Everett, Ari Levinson, Bill, James Mace, Bryce Langley, Johnny Storm, Colin Shea, Harvard Hottie, Kyle, Jake Wyler, Syd, Lucas Lee, Me, Chris Evans, Dennis Baker, Dr. Fisk, Jimmy Dobyne, Ryan Ackerman, Lloyd Hansen, Neil Mavromates, Nick Gant, Judd, Casey Jones, Nick Vaughan, Stuart Stanton, Orin Scrivello, Buzz Lightyear
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pairing: ransom drysdale x reader
summary: it was your grandfather's last wish for you to marry ransom, and to honor his last wish, you agree to get married to him, even though it means you'll be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life.
this was written for @thefanbasewhore 's 2k challenge, i loved writing this, and i gotta admit, this was kinda self indulgent!
warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, public sex, cheating.
a/n: i wasn't planning on writing part 2 for this initially but now it's definitely on my mind 👀
word count: 5k+
You should've learnt that life wasn't something you could predict.
If only your grandfather had lived three months longer, he wouldn't have made you do this. You didn't remember your parents, they had died in a car accident when you were a year old, and since then, your grandfather had raised you on his own. He had provided you with the best of the best, and you were really close to him, because if not for him, you would have ended up in an orphanage. Your grandfather also happened to be a good friend of Harlan's, which was why he arranged your marriage with Ransom. You didn't get to have a choice, with your grandfather being on his deathbed, it was his last wish, and he assured you it was only so that you could lead a comfortable life after he died. Of course he thought that, because he had totally expected Ransom to inherit some of Harlan's property.
You didn't know how Ransom managed to get out of the mess and had himself proven innocent, all you knew was that he was a murderer, and your future husband. You had initially wished he wouldn't agree to get married to you, but he did, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that it was only because you had inherited your grandfather's property.
That's how you found yourself sitting in front of the mirror, your reflection blurred by the white veil that covered your face.
"The ceremony is about to begin," Justine informed you, squeezing your shoulders gently from where she stood behind you. She was your distant cousin, and you had met her only a few times in your entire life, and since you didn't really have a family or friends either, you had asked her to be your bridesmaid.
You took a deep breath in, in an attempt to calm your nerves, standing up from your seat and waiting for the music to play. You had decided to walk down the aisle alone, you would've liked to have your grandfather walk you, but he left you a little too soon. It felt like it had only been a few seconds since you were waiting when the music played, making you shudder. You gripped your bouquet harder as you stepped forward. The nasty realization of what you were about to do was setting in with each step you took, and you really just wanted to turn around midway, but you didn't, for the sake of your grandfather, to honor his last wish.
There were smiles from people around you, a few camera flashes too, but you were too focused on not losing your step. You had kept your gaze on the bouquet in your hand to keep your anxiety down, but for once, you decided to look up. Just a glance at your future husband was all it took, and you had the confirmation of what a failure your married life was going to be, because Ransom didn't even spare you a look till you stood in front of him, and even then, he seemed unfazed by your presence, not even bothering to pass you a smile. You remembered how as a little girl you dreamed of having a fairy-tale wedding for yourself. As a kid, not a lot of thought was put into the details, except for the person you would marry. You had expected them to look at you with their eyes filled with adoration, as if a better human than you couldn't exist. But the man in front of you looked like he couldn't wait to get away from you, and that ceremony was just a waste of his time, because why else would he be glancing at his Rolex every few seconds?
You hadn't put a lot of effort into your vows, given the fact that you didn't exactly know the man you were marrying, but still, you had decided to write them yourself, even if they weren't as heartfelt, but Ransom's vows? He had searched it up on Google, and decided to go with the one that had popped up first, you could tell because you had looked it up for inspiration as well.
By the time the minister announced you as husband and wife, you were on the verge of tears, because what had you done with your life? You didn't move an inch for the kiss, you didn't have it in you to do so, but Ransom stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on your waist while the other lifted your veil before he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and gentle, and didn't last longer than a few seconds, but you were grateful for that.
Then came the reception, it was lavish to say the least, but what else could you expect? A beautiful, beach wedding like you had wanted, the champagne literally flowing as if it wasn't worth more than water, various delicacies with tongue twisters as their names, but you didn't have any. It was your wedding, and ironically you wanted to get out of there as soon as you could. It would have been wonderful if that feeling came out of anticipation for your wedding night and honeymoon, but that didn't apply to you, the fake smiles, the congratulations, everything, all of it was just a show. You were so caught up in your head with your thoughts that you didn't realize when it was time for your first dance with your husband. He offered you his hand, not quite meeting your eyes, and you took it reluctantly as well. You heard some crappy music starting to play in the background while the crowd cheered for both of you. His left hand came to rest on your waist, while his right gripped your left as he started to sway to the rhythm.
"I know you aren't happy, but it wouldn't hurt if you forced a smile at the least," Ransom said once you both were away from everyone, in the center of the dance floor. Your brows furrowed in response to his words, those words were the first ones he ever said to you.
"It's easier said than done," you said, "I'd like to see you try for yourself first."
The man in front of you just clenched his teeth as he looked at you, his blue eyes looking into yours with a piercing gaze. Right, his ego was too big to go first with the smile thing, but so was yours, just because you were his wife now didn't mean you were going to submit yourself to him. No way in hell.
"I want to make it clear," Ransom said, loosening his black tie as he took off his matching coat, "just because we're married doesn't mean we have to be in love with each other. You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."
You already knew that arrangement. 'Just because we're married doesn't mean we have to be in love with each other.' For all you knew, it was just a euphemism for, 'I can't commit to this marriage.' Yes, you knew that, because given his reputation, expecting anything else would be foolishness, yet, affirming the thought verbally made your heart ache for some reason.
You simply nodded, getting your clothes from your bag and making your way inside the restroom. You shut the door behind you, pressing your back against it and stared at your reflection in the mirror in front. Your makeup had been done to perfection, your hair styled beautifully, but for a moment, you wanted to throw something at the glass, because you had done all of it just to get stuck in a loveless marriage for life. You held your tears back, you couldn't cry over someone you never had, but maybe it was the flicker of hope inside you that had died with what just happened, and while dying, it had set out a fire. A fire that burnt a whole through your heart and left it stinging behind. You sniffled, stepping forward to turn on the shower, you needed one badly after the events of the day.
When you returned from your shower, you found Ransom standing naked as the day he was born, bent over as he looked for something in his bag. You knew you should've looked away, but you couldn't. For an asshole like him, he sure as hell had an unreasonably beautiful body, and he had no shame in showing it off either, why would he?
"I know it's a little hard to tear your eyes away, but I would appreciate it if you didn't stare," he said, standing up to his actual height with his towel in his hand. He didn't even look at you while walking past you, and his face was expressionless, as if he hadn't just caught you shamelessly ogling at his naked body.
Your cheeks heated up in a millisecond, and if someone saw you in your flustered state, they would be convinced you had a high fever. You cleared your throat, brushing your hair back which was still wet from your shower as you averted your gaze to the ground, still not moving from your place till you heard the door of the washroom shut and facepalmed yourself at what just happened, taking deep breaths in to recover from your embarrassment. Your wedding night couldn't get better than this. You wearily trudged towards the bed, but before you could flop down on it, you stared at it as you weighed your options. The hotel room just had one bed, duh, it was for a married couple after all, but it also had a decent looking couch. You knew Ransom would never take the couch, and you couldn't get yourself to share the bed with him. So, you grabbed a spare blanket and a few pillows from the bed, and dragged your feet to the couch. Given the events of the day, it didn't take more than a minute or two for you to qualify as out like a light.
The next morning, you woke up feeling quite refreshed, but at the same time, you were struck with the memories of the previous day, the day you had legally become the wife of a murderer. You curled into yourself at the thought, but a particularly large snore from behind you startled you. You craned your neck to see Ransom sleeping in full starfish mode, his tousled hair sticking to his forehead and some even reaching to cover his eyes. He had taken up almost the entire bed that left you with just enough space to lay in. Wait but how did you end up in the bed when you had taken the couch? Maybe you were too tired to have realized what you were doing, but looking across from the bed, you saw a pillow still lying on the couch. Nope, you weren't wrong. You reached for your phone on the bedside table, and it was 11 AM. You would've been up hours ago if it wasn't for the jet lag and your exhaustion. Seeing that, you got out of the bed to get ready for the day. You weren't going to spend your day inside when you could have an infinity pool all to yourself, overlooking the beautiful city of Santorini paired with the wonderful weather. That's how you soon found yourself swimming in the pool in a black string bikini.
You were enjoying the calm and the quiet of the place, with the sea breeze playing with the wet strands of your hair occasionally. You leaned against the poolside, a small smile playing on your lips while your eyelids fell shut as you basked in the sun peacefully. Honeymoons were overhyped in your opinion, yes you were having the time of your life, but not in the same context as normal couples. The time passed differently with the water cooling your skin warmed up by the sun, and when you opened your eyes, you almost shrieked seeing a pair of blue ones focused on you through the glass window. Ransom seemed like he had just gotten out of the bed a minute or two ago. He had definitely checked you out, but the emotion in his eyes had changed now, it was quite unreadable. It almost seemed like he was....betrayed, mixed with a tad bit of disappointment. You knew you could be wrong, you were no mind reader, yet, the thought made you self conscious. You broke eye contact with him, and silently climbed out of the pool, your wet feet not allowing you to quickly reach the chair where your bathing robe lay. You quickly tied your robe around your body, grabbing your other supplies and making your way inside the suite, passing your husband on the way, who was now standing at the edge of the pool, taking in the magnificent view before him.
"Why did you bring me to bed?" you asked, your curiosity taking the best of you.
Ransom turned to look at you leaning against the window sill, his face holding a confused expression.
"What?" he asked.
"I remember taking the couch, but I woke up in the bed beside you. How?" you asked.
"Do you plan on sleeping on couches for the rest of your life? Because you can't expect me to ever leave the comfort of the bed," he said.
"Who said I'll even share my room with you?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
"You and I are married now, whether you like it or not," Ransom said, and you almost scoffed at that, "we have to act like a normal couple for the sake of appearances."
"For the sake of appearances?" you asked, raising a brow, "what kind of appearances exactly are you referring to in the safety of my own house?"
He looked at you as if it wasn't obvious already. "In the safety of your own house, you'll have house help, and all of them have mouths, and they're capable of talking, in case you didn't know," he said, "that's how the word gets out, Mrs. Drysdale."
"Do not call me that!" you said almost instantly, pointing your finger at him, you didn't need a reminder of being a wife to a murderer.
"What? Mrs. Drysdale?" Ransom asked, his lips quirking into a smirk, "thanks for letting me know, I'll make sure to address you as Mrs. Drysdale only."
You gritted your teeth, rolling your eyes at him before leaving.
Two days. That's how long Ransom was able to stay loyal to his vows. You had seen it coming, and were mentally prepared for it as well, though you were surprised that he had managed to last that long. The first day, after seeing you swimming in the pool, he had gotten drunk till he passed out. The realization of him being a married man now must've set in, you thought. The second day, he spent recovering from his hangover, and on day three of your honeymoon, he was back at being the playboy that he was. You both had headed to the beach that day, while you had decided to read with the sound of waves crashing against the shore as a background music, your husband had decided to ogle at women sunbathing around you. No, he didn't just stop there, once he spotted a girl who seemed to have come alone there, he didn't wait to make a move on her. Did he care that you could see him flirting with another woman? No. Did you care that you could see him flirting with another woman? No. You had decided to not give a shit about what he did.
In the coming four months of your marriage, you'd gotten used to living with Ransom under the same roof. It had been a challenge at first, because he would do everything you would tell him not to do, just so he could get on your nerves, but now you only saw him as an annoying roommate. Being addressed as his wife in public still seemed weird, because you never acted like a couple behind the closed doors, never talking unless it was really important. Besides, Ransom was usually too busy with his one night stands and buying useless expensive shit that he could show off. He had even stopped wearing his wedding ring, he reserved it for public appearances with you. According to one of his drunk confessions, the ring "repeled a hot chic" he saw at the bar that night.
All this time, you had kept yourself busy with work, not finding the time to dwell on the thoughts of what your husband could be up to. You didn't know the exact timing of that, but somewhere along the lines, you found yourself getting jealous the nights Ransom didn't return. Moreover, you had taken a liking for the shades of blue which resembled his eyes, often holding yourself back from complimenting the way he managed to pull off the most boring of the sweaters, his already huge ego didn't need a pump from you after all. You would remind yourself that there was nothing likable about the man, but the fact that you had to remind yourself meant you were already down the path of making your life even more complicated.
It was late spring when you were invited to a fundraiser. You didn't remember what exactly it was about, all you knew was that you needed to make an appearance as 'Mrs. Drysdale,' meaning Ransom was supposed to accompany you. You had accepted the invitation even if you didn't like attending such events with him, because in front of the cameras and general public, Ransom would act like he was yours and yours only, but all it took was one drink for him, and he would sneak out with whatever woman he found for a heated makeout session. On more than one occasion, you had to inform him of the smudged lip gloss on his lips, and sometimes his pricey blazers too got stained with the cosmetic.
You were finishing curling your hair, standing in front of the full-length mirror in an emerald green silk dress with a thigh high slit and a plunging neckline, when you caught Ransom's reflection in a distance behind you, buttoning up his matching green tuxedo. You had to admit, that color made him look irresistible, especially with the way it made the green flecks in his eyes even more prominent. You looked away from him before he could catch you, after all, you had the whole night to stare at him, which would probably include watching him flirt with other women as well. Finishing your look with a diamond necklace, you turned to face him.
"You ready?" you asked, and that's when you got his attention for the first time that evening. The Rolex he was tying to his wrist almost fell from his hands when his eyes fell on you. His gaze traveled from your exposed cleavage to the exposed skin of your leg and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a bit satisfied by that.
"I asked you a question," you reminded him, making him tear his eyes away from you.
"Yeah, uh, what?" Ransom asked, making you roll your eyes.
"I asked you if you were ready to leave," you said.
"Yep, Mrs. Drysdale, as ready as I'll ever be," he said.
You simply nodded in response, walking out of the room, your high heels clicking against the bocote wood floor and Ransom's eyes following you. You had your Mercedes waiting for both of you outside. Seeing you approach, with your husband not far behind you, your driver held the door open for you, and once he made sure you were settled, he didn't waste any time in driving you to the venue.
The car ride was silent, just like any other time you were in a car with Ransom, but you couldn't tell if it was just you or there was this...tension which made the silence kinda uncomfortable. You were so grateful when the car came to a halt and you were out, it had become sort of suffocating inside the car.
Just like at any such event, Ransom came to stand by your side, his arm going around to circle your waist and pulling you into his side. It didn't mean anything to you usually, knowing it was just an act to not let people find out the reality of your marriage, but this time, you cursed yourself because the moment you felt the warmth from his hand seeping through your dress, you had a tingling sensation, similar to an electric spark. You really needed to stop reading those sappy love stories you loved so much, they weren't doing you any good.
Ransom stayed with you only while you made small talk with the people you knew through business endeavors, and once you wanted to be by yourself for a bit, he wandered away. You didn't want to know where he went or what he was doing this time, you were better off being oblivious. You were currently busy swirling your champagne in the flute glass you held, seeing the liquid move in a circular motion was oddly entertaining in that moment that you were alone. You looked around at the people on the dance floor, enjoying every moment of the gala as you sipped your drink, and that's when you were startled by a deep voice from beside you. You turned to find a handsome looking man watching you with a kind smile. He was just as tall and built as Ransom, his deep blue eyes just as alluring, and that dark brown beard of his? You really wanted to know everything about this man.
"What's a pretty lady like you doing here alone?" he asked.
You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Uh, no, I'm not alone, I'm here with my husband," you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, flashing your wedding ring in the process.
Ransom could see you chatting with the dark haired man from a distance. He knew he didn't have a right to get jealous when he had his arms around another woman, but yes, he was jealous. You seemed to have forgotten about the ongoing party around you as you talked to the said man, laughing at whatever joke he must have cracked. You never laughed like that with Ransom, not that he ever gave you a reason to, but he didn't like that. He clenched his jaw when he saw you both finish your drinks, your hand in the brunette's grasp as he led you to the dance floor. Seeing that, Ransom pushed away the girl he had been talking to, not even bothering to explain himself to her, and made his way towards you on the dance floor. It would be foolish to expect him to show any manners, and his actions made sure to prove that.
"Now if you'd excuse my wife, please," Ransom said, stepping between the both of you, and grabbing your wrist to drag you away.
You didn't even get the chance to apologize or even register what had happened.
"What the fuck, Ransom?" you asked, unable to keep up with his pace in your high heels.
"I should be the one asking you that!" he said, leading you outside, away from the gala and towards a corner from where the parking lot could be seen, "what the fuck were you doing in there?"
You were confused as well as angry seeing him mad, because what was he mad about?
"I was dancing in case you couldn't see," you spat back.
"Oh I could see that," he said, stepping forward to tower over you, "but why?"
"What do you mean, 'why?' I don't owe you shit, I'm not explaining myself, because if I remember correctly, you were the one who proposed, 'You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.' Now stay out of my way!" you shouted, "I can dance with whomever I want to!"
"No you can't," he simply said through clenched teeth as he backed you into the wall behind you.
"Sorry, what? What did you just say?" you asked out of disbelief, who did he think he was to tell you otherwise?
"You heard me, Mrs. Drysdale," Ransom said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh? So you can go sleeping around with whomever you like, and I can't even dance with someone?" you asked.
"No, because you're mine," he said.
Now that left you speechless. Your eyes widened, and your anger was dissipating more quickly than it should have. You figured the disbelief in response to his words was evident on your face, because Ransom's lips had curled up into a smirk.
"That's what you wanted to hear, didn't you, Mrs. Drysdale?" he said, one of his hands coming to cup your jaw, while the other caged you against the wall. "You're mine," he repeated before smashing his lips against yours.
It was a strange phenomenon, you didn't know how to explain it, but to be put in simple words, you didn't want to kiss him back, but you wanted to. You pulled him closer by the lapels of his coat, one of your hands sliding into his perfectly styled hair, and messing it up. Somehow that frustration and anger from earlier had turned into a fierce passion which translated through the way you kissed him back.
Ransom broke the kiss to trail his kisses along your jaw, playfully nipping at the spot below your ear that you didn't know was capable of making you moan softly.
"I'm going to show you," he grunted in your ear, "you belong to me."
Had he said that to you a few months ago, you would've cringed, but not now, not when you found yourself longing for him on more than one occasion.
"Yes! Yes, please," you instantly said in a needy whine, and that only made him chuckle.
"Look at you all needy and begging," he said, biting your earlobe while his hand descended down, slipping through the slit of your dress to feel you over your panties, which were already soaked, "you're wet already, and I haven't even gotten started yet."
You wanted to smack him across his face for being so cocky. "I was too busy being faithful to our marriage to get laid, I'm sorry if I'm too responsive," you said, rolling your eyes.
"Well, Mrs. Drysdale, tonight I will make up for the lack of appreciation for being a good wife, I promise," he said, before you heard the sound of your panties being ripped. He had his infamous smirk plastered to his face as he stuffed the shreds of the lacy fabric into the pocket of his dress pants.
You were entranced somehow, frozen in your place as you watched him unbuckle his belt and undo his dress pants.
"Wait," you said, and Ransom stopped, his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his Calvin's which he would have pushed down if it weren't for you stopping him, "we can't, not here!"
He rolled his eyes, pushing his boxers down anyway. "Yes we can, we're about to," he said, "just tell me you want this."
Your breath caught in your throat, rendering you speechless, and all you could do was nod.
"Use your words, honey," Ransom said.
"Yes, I want this," you said, and as soon as the words left your mouth, he lunged forward. He caught you by the waist, lifting you just enough so that you could slide down on his cock. You slapped a hand to your mouth to muffle the high pitched moan that escaped you while Ransom groaned loudly, not caring at all if anyone could hear him, it was Ransom you were talking about after all.
"Fuck, you're too tight," he breathed out.
Honestly, you might have fantasized about it a few times, but you didn't ever think you could end up like that, never thought you'd be the woman Ransom would take to a secluded corner to make out with, never thought you'd ever be in the position that you currently were in, but you were.
You knew he was big, you had taken notice of that on your wedding night itself, but feeling him inside you was something else. Now you felt jealous of all the women who had been pleasured by that cock before you.
"Stop silencing those pretty sounds, Mrs. Drysdale, I fucking live to hear those," he said in between his grunts as he continued thrusting into you.
"Can you please not call me that at least while we're fucking?" you said as you panted, before throwing your head back when he hit that spot inside you.
He chuckled breathlessly. "What do you want me to call you, babygirl?" he asked, and felt your muscles clench around him at the name, "oh? babygirl, huh?"
"Just shut up and fuck me, Ransom," you said screwing your eyes shut as you bit down on your lip, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.
Letting out a laugh at your words, Ransom complied with your request, bringing you to the edge in no time. Anyone could have walked in on you anytime, but you couldn't get yourself to care about that even if you tried, because that was one hell of a way to consummate your marriage.
"'m close," you barely managed to get out. Your high heels weren't helping the way your legs shook, and if it weren't for Ransom holding you by your waist, you would've been on the ground by that time.
"Don't hold back, babygirl, let it go," he encouraged, and with two of his thrusts after that, you finished, holding back your urge to scream.
You were so dazed by your orgasm that you didn't realize when he had pulled out, and when you got back to your senses, you were clinging to his white dress shirt, savoring his scent mixed with his cologne. When your breathing evened, you pulled away from him to see him buttoning up his pants, the outline of his hard on clearly visible.
"Hey, you can't go back in like that," you said, awkwardly pointing to his crotch, and he just smirked.
"Who said we're going back in? We're going home for round two, babygirl," he said.
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𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐱.
day nine: exhibitionism
pairing: ex!ransom x fem!reader
warnings: smut. unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, mention of cum-eating, vouyerism, dirty talk, cheeky bit of choking, reader slaps ransom at one point.
word count: 1.4k
eighteen plus only — by choosing to ‘keep reading’, you are agreeing that you are eighteen years old and over. do not interact with this story if you are a minor.
There weren’t enough words in the English dictionary, to describe the way you felt about Hugh “Call me Ransom” Drysdale.
Maybe, some of the onus was on you. It should’ve come as no surprise when after close to a year of dating that he had shown you his true colours — Ransom was nothing more than an entitled, spoiled brat wrapped up in the body of a 6ft Adonis.
“You’re staring,” Marta whispers into your ear nervously. “They aren’t worth it.”
She was right, of course. But it didn’t mean that you weren’t pissed off at the sight of him trying to get into your best friend’s pants — an attempt that she was entertaining with each flutter of her lashes, twirling her fingers on the hem of his sweater.
“Do you want a drink?” Your voice is abrupt as you turn to Marta with a sharp smile. “I’m going to get us a drink.”
Shrugging off her warning call of your name, you walk into the kitchen with a plan in mind; filling up two red solo cups of punch to the rim before discreetly walking past the couple that had your anger boiling.
It wasn’t difficult, pretending to be knocked into them — the beautiful sight of the once cream coloured fabric being drenched in the dark liquid.
“What the shit!” He growls, turning to look at you, contempt burning in his blue eyes.
You toss the empty cups to the floor. “Oops, didn’t see you there.”
The look you give is venomous, expression mean as the two of you ignore the complaints from your ex-best friend. In his retaliation, Ransom grabs you by the bicep, nails digging as he drags you outside.
“Let go of me, you pompous prick!”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
“Oh, eat shit.”
Back slammed against a brick wall, your hand strikes his cheek, pupils blown wide as you watch him kiss his teeth.
“You vicious, little bitch.”
His mouth descends on yours, all teeth and tongue as he keeps his movements cruel. It’s intoxicating, the taste of him enough to leave you drunk as his hands roam your body with a touch that’s too familiar.
The distant sound of whistling at the view of you two on display for anyone who walks past barely reaches your ears, too caught up in the lust that pulses in your core.
“You always were so easy,” he rasps against your lips. “Just a few mean words and you’re acting like a needy whore.”
“Says the one whose leaking in his pants.”
“Don’t act like your cunt isn’t soaking through that ridiculous costume.” Ransom raises an eyebrow. “Slutty Captain America, really?”
“Would you just shut the fuck up, and fuck me.”
He smirks. “So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”
“Like you have anything else to offer other than your enlarged ego, Hugh.”
To your bemusement, he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he focuses on pushing a knee between your clenching thighs and smirking wickedly at the strangled moan that escapes your lips.
“You always were such a slut for it in public,” he licks at beads of sweat forming on your neck. “All I had to do was tell you to open your legs and you’d let me finger fuck that cunt in front of anyone.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” You grind down on his erection that’s throbbing beneath the denim. “It was just convenient.”
Ransom chuckles, “Sure it was, sweetheart.”
It should infuriate you, the way he manages to keep his cool. Instead, you find yourself feeling flustered because here you were — desperate and yearning as the man in front of you placed languid kisses along your jaw.
“I hate you,” the words are barely tangible through your heavy breathing.
“Of course you do.” His teeth nip at your ear. fingers trailing up your bare thighs as they make their way under your skirt. “But this pussy loves me, doesn’t she?”
Panties pulled to the side, Ransom doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s pushing inside. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, head thrown back as you work yourself against him.
“Oh she missed me, hm?” He purrs, the sloshing sounds of your wet cunt filling the night air. At the sound of your protest, he continues, “You can pretend all you want. But we both know this pussy still belongs to me, sweetheart.”
Wanting him to shut up, you bring him into another kiss, taking out your frustration as you feel an orgasm approach.
It barely takes a few more pumps before you’re releasing all over his fingers. “There you go, baby.” He coos against your mouth. “I always liked you better when you were quiet and fucked out.”
With your mind still reeling from your orgasm, you barely register Ransom hitching your leg over his waist after he had freed himself from his pants.
The feeling of his cock glides through your puffy folds, coating himself in slick before he catches the tip on your entrance. “Gonna take this cock real good, aren’t you? Show me why I shouldn’t of left.”
Ransom presses forward, and you gasp at the sensation of his thick cock filling you in a way that you’d been missing. A string of curses fall and you bite down on his neck to stifle your moans.
“So fuckin’ tight,” his Boston drawl has you clenching. “Poor cunt, hasn’t been used in a while has she?”
With each drive of his hips, comes a new taunt. Heartbeat pounding in your ears as you let him mould your body to his.
Fingers grip your chin, forcing you to turn your head to the side before shoving them into your mouth, the faint taste of your juices still lingering.
“Seems we’ve got an audience, sweetheart.” His words are said with a wide grin and you open your eyes to catch sight of your ex-best friend watching with wide eyes.
He removes his fingers from your throat, fucking up into you with total abandonment as he feels the way your cunt squeezes him like a vice.
“Oh fuck, Ran.” Your words are slurred as pleasure overtakes your speech. “Fuck, you’re so big.”
“C’mon baby, make her jealous.” He teases. “Let her see what she’ll never get.”
Ransom’s words have the desired effect as you roll your hips in time to meet his thrusts, eyes locked on hers as you bite back a smirk.
“How could I give up pussy this good?” His question is rhetorical but you answer anyways.
“‘Cause you’re an asshole.”
A hand wraps around your throat, pinching the skin. “Maybe I should go fuck her instead, at least she’d appreciate it.”
You wrap your hand around his wrist, scratching as you move to look at him. “Go ahead,” you snarl. “See if she can fuck you better than I can, if she’ll let you fill her up.”
“I did always love makin’ you jealous.” Ransom doesn’t let you respond this time, pushing his tongue into your mouth and fucking it in tandem with his dick.
The pressure in your abdomen builds again, and you hold onto Ransom’s neck as you chase your climax. “‘M gonna come, Ran. Please, make me come.”
He fucks into your cunt harshly, moving a hand down to flick at your bundle of nerves. It’s enough to push you over the edge, choking out a scream of his name as you gush around his dick.
“God dammit, shit.” Ransom huffs into your neck, still ramming into you as he feels his balls tighten.
Your hands run through his hair, words of encouragement on your tongue. “C’mon, Ran. It’s been so long since you filled my pussy up, don’t you want it too?”
“Wanna feel you milk my dick, baby.” He pants, teeth almost piercing flesh as he sucks a bruise into your neck.
“Come in me, please.” You beg him, the need of being full of his seed making you babble. “I’ll even let you eat it out of me, make it all messy how you like.”
Ransom swears, cockhead pulsing before he shoots his load into your womb, growling as you drain him for everything he’s worth.
“Fuckin’ hell, this cunt’ll be the death of me.”
You smile sweetly, “If only.”
“God you’re such a bitch,” he grunts before pulling himself out of you.
“And you’re just realising this now?” You roll your eyes, getting ready to leave.
Ransom’s expression is dark as he stalks your movements. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Anywhere that you won’t be.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Apprehension curdles at the vindictive look he gives. “You really thought I’d let you go again?”
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Finding You - An A/B/O smut series masterlist
The one where you become a pack’s omega
When you end up being transformed into an omega without any understanding of what it entails, five Alphas find themselves responsible for your well-being. Guess it’s only expected you’d take care of them too, huh?
General warnings: smut, minor angst, multiple sex partners, brothers all having sex with the same person at the same time but no actual sexual relations between them, so I guess no incest?
Status: in progress
I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X
XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX
XXI - XXII - XXIII - XXIV - XXV - XXVI - XXVII - XXVIII - XXIX - XXX
A/N: I don’t do taglists so either bookmark this post or follow @buckyownsmylifefics and turn on notifications to know when a new chapter is posted.
This series is intended as a compilation of one-shots, which means that although I’ve written them in a specific order so they have more or less of an arc, it can be read out of order and you can skip whichever chapter you don’t want to read. That being said, I’ll add what are the specific kinks in each chapter so you can skip them if it’s something you’re not that into!
I’m adding a more detailed list of kinks under the keep reading so those who want to be surprised don’t need to be spoiled, but if you have any major triggers please give it a read, as your media consumption is your own responsibility.
Specific warnings: gangbang, poly!relationship, a/b/o dynamics, reverse harem?, shared omega, outdoor sex, size kink, knotting, housewife kink, innocence kink, sound kink, rimming, anal play, anal sex, triple penetration, free use, voyeurism, hate fucking, exhibitionism, orgy, uniform kink, primal play, humiliation kink, degradation kink, spanking, dacryphilia, praise kink, scenting, possessiveness, ruts, begging, edging, somnophilia, sensory deprivation, asphyxiation, hair-pulling, throatfucking, spitting kink, biting kink, deprivation, denial, toys, overstimulation, choking, breeding kink, cumplay, cum marking, creampie, unprotected sex, heats, nesting, lactation play.
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Wonderful and Warm
Mile High Club
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP)
Summary: You and Ransom make the best of being stuck on a plane for 12 hours with the Thrombeys.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, over the pants stuff, unprotected vaginal sex, public sex, airplane bathroom sex, f receiving oral sex, snowballing), little bit of exhibitionism, minor Thrombey drama, mentions of drug and alcohol use, sprinkling of fluff, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: Welp, it’s the start of the Thrombeys’ annual post Thanksgiving vacation! Could something big be in the works?
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!
“Watch it, that’s Louis Vuitton!” Donna scolded the flight attendant who was putting her carry on into the overhead bin. “Don’t scuff it!”
“Oh my god, can we tip our flight attendants?” You buried your face in your hands as Donna kept heaping instructions on the poor woman. “I thought you said she passes out on international flights.”
“Yeah, she usually likes to have a glass of wine with her Ambien first, then she’ll knock right out.” He grinned when you leaned against his shoulder, pressing his lips to your hair when you nuzzled at his neck. “At least Linda’s already gone.”
You snorted when you got a look at Linda already snoring across the aisle, winding your fingers through his as Donna finally shut up and you settled into your seat. Ransom rested his head on yours as you both accepted some champagne from the flight attendant, his lips quirking in a small smile when you apologized profusely for everything she and her coworkers were going to have to put up with for the next twelve hours.
“Most of them are going to sleep, baby, it’ll be fine.” He leaned back in his seat and pulled his blanket over himself while you sighed. “Which we should do too, it’s a long fucking flight. Plus then we can avoid Joni, who I think did some coke in the bathroom before we boarded.”
“Yeah, that’s all we need.” You cringed when you heard her babbling away to some poor flight attendant who looked like they were thinking of making a run for it. “Fine, let’s rest up. Sure we’re gonna need all our energy for this vacation.”
He just murmured softly when you snuggled closer to him and rested your face in the crook of his neck, shoving the armrest between you up and winding an arm around you as he pulled the blindfold over his eyes and tried to tune out Joni’s chatter.
It was six hours later when something woke him up, your breath warm on his neck as he rolled himself closer to you and brushed his lips over your hair. He wasn’t sure what had roused him in the first place, but feeling your hand curve around his half hard bulge brought him to full consciousness with a hiss.
“Ran… what?” You chuckled when you woke up to him rocking his hips into your touch while he nibbled on your ear and whined. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m dead fucking serious.” He snuck his hand under your blanket and inside your leggings as he licked your neck. “Everyone’s asleep, don’t you wanna join the mile high club?”
“Hmm I’m already a member.” You laughed softly against his lips when he slipped a finger inside you and growled. “You really going to try to tell me you’re not?”
“Guess not.” He groaned when you stroked him over his pants, licking slowly between your lips and drawing you close as he kept curling his fingers against your soft walls. “Wanna do it with you, though.”
“Course you do.” You hummed when he kissed you again, grabbing the front of his shirt and biting at his lips before pulling back with a grin. “Meet me in the bathroom.”
You had to shove him back into the seat to keep him from following you immediately, kissing him gently when he whined for you and pouted a little bit. He grumbled to himself as he watched you saunter down the aisle, giving it the bare minimum amount of time before he was rising out of his seat and storming after you.
Ransom had to hold back from slamming the door open when he got to the bathroom, grinning and letting out a small sound of surprise when you yanked him inside. He immediately smashed his lips to yours as his eyes drank you in, groaning when he saw that you had already stripped out of your leggings and sweatshirt.
You laughed into his mouth when he lifted you and set you on the counter, your fingers dipping under the edge of his sweats and sliding them over his hips as he started biting and licking your neck. His now fully hard cock slapped wetly against the inside of your thigh once you got him free, his whole body rolling against yours while he let out a deep moan at you giving him a few slow pumps while you lined him up.
“We’ve gotta make this fast.” You slid your hips forward at the same time he did and bit at his ear when he was fully seated in you, grabbing his ass and starting to rock your hips as he grunted softly into your shoulder. “I don’t want those poor flight attendants to have to deal with even more angry passengers in addition to your family if we hold up this bathroom for too long.”
“Can we not talk about my family right now?” Ransom sucked a bruise below your jaw as he started slamming into you, his grip on your waist sure to leave marks with how tightly he was holding onto you.
“Fine.” You wound your fingers through his hair and locked your ankles together at the small of his back as you rolled your hips to meet his, whining softly when he bent his knees and found that perfect spot that had you clenching hard around him. “Oh god.”
“Yeah? Right there?” He grinned against your throat when you choked on a whimper, giving a dirty grind of his hips that had you throbbing and fluttering around him as you tugged harshly on his hair. “Fast enough for you?”
“Shutupshutupshutup.” You babbled mindlessly when he did it again, your breath leaving you in a sharp gasp that he swallowed eagerly as your body started vibrating with your imminent orgasm. “Fu… ah Jesus. Fuck me.”
“That’s all I’m gonna do on this whole fucking trip.” He tugged at your lips with his teeth as he groaned into your mouth, the way he was driving into you almost making your head crack against the mirror until he grabbed the back of your neck and held you close. “Only reason we’re leaving the rooms is so I can fill this pretty pussy in front of some national landmark.”
“Yeah fine.” You were getting delirious in that way you always did when he brought you to the edge this fast, your nails digging into his scalp as you clenched your teeth and drew him as close as possible. “Don’t stop.”
Ransom smashed his lips to yours when he felt a jolt travel through your body, muffling your sharp cry and growling as your sweet pussy started milking him for everything he had. You whimpered when he shoved you into the counter and his chest rumbled against yours, panting into his mouth as he slowed his hips to a deep roll as he pumped his cum into you.
“Fuck, good girl.” He purred as your cunt kept flexing around him as the two of you rode it out, running his nose over yours and giving you a lazy grin as you kept tugging gently on his hair. “God, such a good fucking pussy, you’re spoiling me, baby.”
“Uh-huh.” You finally felt yourself come down and gave him a grin of your own, moaning when he pressed his lips to yours and drew his sweats back into place before kneeling to grab your leggings for you. “So your goal is to turn me into a mindless sex zombie this vacation?”
“Pretty much.” He winked at you as he lapped up the thick mess that was leaking out of you, humming when he felt you flutter against his face again as you gave him a soft, lilting sigh before he rose to his feet and pulled your leggings back on for you. “That gonna be a problem?”
“Nope.” You popped the p and tilted your head back when he slotted his lips over yours, swallowing his cum greedily when he let it flow over your tongue and helped you back into your shirt. “What are vacations for? Besides, sex zombies don’t have to deal with your asshole family.”
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A Lost Cause
Pairing: Ransom x Reader
Warnings: horror, mentions of murder, chase kink, dubcon, lots of dry humping, slight sex pollen, fingering, claiming kink if you squint, werewolf!Ransom
Word Count: 1,915
Synopsis: Nobody wants him, at least not in any way that counts. Hugh Drysdale is a means to an end, a rich depressive with darkness inching into his eyes. You see it every time he looks at you. That little hitch of possessiveness that boils just under the surface. Everyone told you to run, to get away from him because “Ransom is no good for anyone.” And you should have known better than to tangle with him. Ransom Drysdale is nothing but a lost cause.
A/N: I know I promised like 10 other fics but I couldn't let this go. This is based on the fake fic title given to me by @stargazingfangirl18. I'm also coupling it with @slothspaghettiwrites and her Monster Challenge which was so much fun to work on and do. I've got more monster ideas for the future too :D Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this. Semi-Beta read by the lovely @iwantutobehapppier, she's not seen the ending yet so it's gonna be a surprise for sure lol
“Run, rabbit. Run.”
And run you did. Bare feet slapping across the wet dewy manicured lawn of the estate, you ran as fast as you could.
Reaching the stone wall in record time as a monstrous howl sounded from behind you. A scream tore from your lips as you slipped in the icy autumn mud, bare feet clamoring as the growls drew closer.
“I told you,” his voice snarled, voice echoing throughout the misty dark. “If you didn't leave, you were going to be mine. I warned you and you didn’t listen.”
The soft light of the moon did little to guide you through the woods as you run. You’d thought the trees outside of the Thrombey estate would provide you with more cover than hiding in the closet ever would. But as you tore past the trees, branches whipping your face and snagging your sweater it might not have been the best idea.
“You couldn't stay away. Wanted to fix me. Make it better. There's no fixing me, bunny!”
His voice sounded closer as he called out and you threw yourself against a tree trunk in an effort to hide squeezing yourself into a small hollow and praying to whatever gods were listening to let you live. Chest heaving panic began to set in, the rough bark dug into your back as you tried to press closer and process what was happening.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't normal.
You'd seen the change come over him, standing over the bloody body of Fran in Harlan's study. The way his muscles bulged under his cable knit as his breathing heaved, a pained grunt leaving him as his joints popped and cracked into place and bloody hands turned into claws.
But it was his eyes that had true fear sweeping through you. When you’d whispered his name he turned towards you. Blue eyes glowing and shining like opals in the night.
Human eyes didn’t do that.
So you ran.
"I like that about you, Bunny.” There was amusement in his voice as he wandered closer to your hiding spot and you prayed to every god you could think of. “You make up your own mind about people. Even when they have as much blood on their hands as I do."
The ground shifted under him as he tramped through the fallen leaves and you wedged yourself further into the hollow. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you stilled your breathing and swallowed down the whimper threatening to expose your hiding place.
Everything went still.
There was no sound at all as you waited and strained to listen. All you could hear was your heart hammering in your chest as you peeked out from your hiding place and looked around.
There was nothing there. Did he go the other way?
A hand grabbed hold of your sweater ripping you from the tree and throwing you to the ground. Landing with a shout you couldn't do anything before he was on you. Powerful legs straddling your hips, locking you down as your feet kicked uselessly, hands clawing the man on top of you.
Ransom grunted when you caught his jaw in a sloppy right hook, but seconds later your hands were pinned to the ground. The scent of the damp forest floor was overpowering as Ransom held you down and you screamed.
"Go ahead and scream, Bunny. Nobody will hear you out here."
Scream you did.
You screamed and swore as you struggled against him, more afraid than you’d ever been before as tears leaked from your eyes. He was strong, your eyes squeezed shut he barely moved as you thrashed beneath him, the barley restrained violence in his grip and the sheer muscle of his thighs straddling you.
Soon your cries became nothing more than weak moans, the fight leaving you too quickly as you succumbed to your fate. A low pleased rumble sounded deep in his chest as a wolfish grin began pulling at his lips, “That’s it, Bunny. Give in for me.”
The icy chill of the evening had you trembling. A stark contrast to the heat radiating off of Ransom, an absolute furnace in the blistering cold that seeped into your bones. Despair sat heavily on your heart as you realized it would be the last warmth you knew.
A low moaning sob broke from your lips, “Ransom.”
He growled in response, the sound coming from deep in his chest and rattling your bones. “You’re the only one to blame for this now. We all told you to leave. I know my mother did everything in her power to get rid of you,” he snarled, thinking about his own mother trying to blackmail you into leaving him for good. “But you’re just to god damn stubborn. Isn’t that right? Sweet Y/N and her need to fix everyone around her. Look at me and tell me that I was worth saving now Bunny.”
Your eyes squeezed shut tighter than before, turning your head away from the heat of his breath fanning against your face.
“Look at me!”
Your eyes snapped open and met the terrifying glow of his eyes. The moon gifted him with a soft halo of light, but it reflected off of the thickening sideburns that hadn’t been there before and the sharp glint of his bared teeth. Mouth trembling, tears filled your eyes as your whole body began to shake with fear.
“Oh what a look,” he cooed, shifting your hands together above your head before cupping your cheek softly as his nails scratched against your skin. “You see sweetheart, we all warned you. But you didn’t listen. You should have listened.”
“Please what, little one?”
“Please,” you whimpered, feeling his free hand trailing over your body. “Please don’t kill me Ransom.”
He roared with laughter, throwing his head back in amusement, those terrifying blue eyes drinking in your trembling form, “Kill you? Now, why would I do that my little bunny?”
A gasp sounded from your lips as Ransom ground his cock against your thigh, hard and thick. You wanted to struggle, fight him off, make it difficult. But your body wouldn’t let you, you couldn’t move at all under him and somewhere in your psyche, you knew. It was over.
Your body went lax in his grip, succumbing to your fate as the smallest of whimpers left your lips. His breath fanning over your face as Ransom continued to rock against you, “Come on, Bunny,” he cooed over you with a grin. “I know you’ve wanted this ever since we met.”
Leaning into you Ransom began to pepper kisses against your motionless lips, the weight of his chest pressing down on top of you. Lips trailing to your jaw a frustrated growl sounded deep in his throat as teeth sharp and dangerous nipped against you. The musky scent of cologne and the damp earth mixed together, making your stomach clench.
He didn’t stop rutting his hips into you, panting heavily against your mouth before slipping his tongue past your lips. A deep moan vibrated as he tasted you, releasing your wrists as he began to grab you. Groping your ass, thighs and breasts; anything he could get his hands on.
You could feel the strength in his fingers as he tipped your head to expose your neck to his eager mouth. Those strong hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against him and grinding you against his cock to his own liking. Gasping your fingers tangled in the holes of his sweater, the soft brush of hair tickled as you felt the fear begin to melt away into pleasure.
On their own, your hips began to roll, the pressure from your jeans building hard against your clit as you ground against his cock. The little jolts of pleasure did wonders to cloud your mind as Ransom’s mouth latched onto your own once more.
This time you kissed him back, mouth opening willingly as his tongue delved inside. Tasting faintly like that evening’s cognac you could still detect the faint copper taste of Frans blood but a distinct sweetness lingered that had you desperate for more.
“That’s it, bunny,” he cooed against your lips, tongue stroking against your own
He snarled, the sound vibrating through you but instead of fear, you felt your arousal spike unexpectedly. Hands fisting in his cable-knit you pulled him hard against you, your own teeth nipping at his lips before he grunted and pulled away.
Looking down at you Ransoms hips stilled as a smirk grew on his lips. Your eyes dark with arousal, mirroring his own as they shimmered like blue opals, “You know why I never fuck on a full moon, bunny?”
You didn’t answer the question, instead, your hips continued to roll against his in desperation.
“It’s because of this,” his hips slammed yours down and into the dirt pinning you hard as you struggled to move against him. “Cause like this, in the middle like I am. My kiss makes women crazy for me, they can’t get enough dick until the fucking sun comes up. If they see the sun that is.”
Your mouth opened with a whimpering moan, desperate to get any friction again. Your entire body felt like fire, every nerve exposed and dying for his touch. Your mind clouded over as you began to beg, “Please Ransom, please I need it so bad. I just… I can’t… I need it.”
“Yeah, I know what you need,” he growled, pressing his lips to your own in a hungry kiss of teeth and tongue.
Sharp nails scraped against your jeans as you helped Ransom pull them down to your knees, your underwear a faint memory as his fingers found your clit and you moaned loud into the night air.
The ghost of your panting breaths lingered as Ransom chuckled, “Already so wet for me, bunny. Fuck you’re not going to take long at all.”
Two fingers rubbed against your entrance and you shivered, legs widening as your own tangled into his sweater. Leaning forward you kissed him hard, your tongue seeking his out and the sweet taste that was wholly Ransom flooded you.
His fingers thrust deep into you. A delicious burn that made you moan into his mouth and a rumbling purr answered. Ransom wasn't gentile, working his fingers in and out of your soaked folds. Stretching and thrusting as the sloppy sound of your pussy echoed in the woods.
“You’re gonna be mine, bunny. Gonna be all mine,” he growled against your ear, panting heavily as his fingers dragged through your folds.
Ransom continued to talk to himself as he tortured you. Your pleasure mounted, tightening in your belly as your nails dug into Ransom’s forearms and your hips rode his fingers Finally the bowstring snapped and you came with a scream. Howling into the night as your body sang and the warmth of orgasm washed over you.
The feeling slowly subsided as Ransom withdrew his fingers, a moment of clarity hitting briefly before Ransom’s mouth covered your own again in a deep kiss. He leaned back, taking his warmth with him. An icy shiver ran through you briefly before he gripped your hips and flipped you over. Face against the forest floor the scent of earth-filled your nose as you pushed to your hands and knees. You felt the length of his cock brush through your slick before gasping and looking back at him.
“You should have run,” he muttered, gaze trained down to where he dragged himself through your folds. His thumbs digging into your hips as your body started to tremble, his eyes flicked up to meet your own, “Lucky for me, my bunny has a thing for lost causes.”
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Best Friends to Fuck Buddies to Lovers - Chris Evans Head Cannon
SORRY FOR THE WAIT!! THIS TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED
You and Chris met in kindergarten
On your first day of school, a shove in the sandbox by one of the known bullies had Chris marching over to stick up for you and introduce himself.
Your parents became tight due to sleep overs and play dates.
In high school you were the shy one and Chris was one of the jocks.
He would have people talking to him left and right but he was all you had to talk to.
You never doubted that Chris always had your back but you couldn’t help but feel jealous when he had his first real girlfriend and drifted away from you a bit.
“Chris, can we talk”? You always made an effort to set things right between you guys but he was always too busy.
Until his lover broke his heart.
Then the first place he showed up was at your door step.
“I’m sorry, Y/F/N. I shouldn’t have blown you off. I know it looks bad that I’m just coming to you now that I need you but-”
You immediately pull him in for a hug and at that moment you know that he’s never going to leave you side again.
First day of college, Chris is there to move you into your dorm.
“Call me whenever, Y/F/N” he shouts as you have to shove him out of the door.
You take him to parties and he takes you to set.
After you graduate college, you don’t know where to go from there but your best friend is right next to you to pull you back on track.
“Come talk to my agent with me. I’m sure she can get you a role. I mean you’ve watched me act my whole life. Hell I've watched you act. You’re good. Give it a chance Y/F/N”.
Roles started piling up and you were now known as ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ instead of ‘Chris Evans Best friend”.
Chris asking you to be his friend date to the Oscars ended up with you both watching happy couples making out at the after-party.
Uncomfortable glances between you and Chris end up with his tongue down your mouth.
His hands claw up your dress and you grip the back of his hair, moaning in his mouth.
“What happened? You alright”?
“Yeah, yeah I'm fine. It’s just that I don’t want to ruin this. Just friends”?
“Just friends” he mutters unbuttoning his pants.
A few months pass of this routine with Chris.
It was a way to relieve both of your emotions.
You were sad? He fucked you until you were happy.
He was mad? You fucked him until he was calm.
You both had a mutual agreement to be fuck buddies until one day, you couldn’t take it anymore.
As he hovered over your body and pressed kisses between your neck and chest, you pulled his face back to meet yours.
“Tell me what you need darling” he whispers on your lips.
“No I don’t need- No”.
He backs up off of you and sits with his back to the backboard of the bed. “You okay”?
“Yeah no- It’s nothing like that Chris”. You say straddling his lap.
“I just can’t do this anymore”.
He runs a hand through his hair and places his hands onto your hips. “Do what sweetheart”.
“Pretend that I don’t want more. Chris I want you more than this. More than for my own pleasure! I want you because I love you”!
He runs his eyes over your face and pulls you in for another kiss.
“Yeah, I love you too, Y/F/N”.
REBLOGS HELP MORE THAN LIKES <3 ALSO COMMENT TO MAKE MY DAY LOL
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-> ransom comes home angry, a fight ensues but none of you can go to bed angry.
a/n | fluff and angst? ransom's insecure and it just makes him push away the reader :(( enjoy the fic!!
You barely registered the loud slam of the front door and the heavy stomps that followed. Ransom comes into the living room, and instantly headed into the kitchen- not even bothering to address you.
You caught on immediately that the Thrombey family meeting didn't go well at all. As per usual. So you stood up from your seat on the couch and followed him into the kitchen where he was tugging off his coat and reaching into the fridge for a drink.
He rolls his eyes as he chugs the beer down, completely ignoring you.
You stepped towards him, taking his free hand into yours and you press soft kisses on his knuckles. "What happened, babe?"
Ransom snatches his hand away from you, the frown still carved in his lips. "Oh— fucking hell. Will you fucking stop crowding me?" He snaps, turning away from you as he leans against the counter.
He knows he screwed up as soon as those words left his mouth, but his pride wasn't gonna let him apologise. It really wasn't his fault that his mouth works faster than his brain.
You were used to this, still- it doesn't sting in your heart any less painful. Again, still, it's Ransom you're talking about here. So really, you kinda know not to take it to heart— which again, doesn't make it any less painful.
Ransom wanted to apologise- he really did. But no matter how much he wanted to force the words out, it just couldn't get past his lips.
"Hey," You grab him by the sides of the blue sweater he's wearing, forcing him to turn around even though he hesitated. You cupped his cheeks, thumbs rubbing gently against his cheekbones. "Y'know you can talk to me about it, Ran."
This is usually where he breaks, the part where he'd just pull you into his chest and nuzzle into your hair. But instead, the frown he had on his face turned into something more glum and sad. As much as he wants to let himself sink into your touch, he doesn't think he deserves it.
Ransom lets his fingers curl around your wrists, dreading the feeling of prying your hands off him. But he does it anyway, puts up the emotionless Ransom act just so he wouldn't have to deal with what he's really feeling. "Fuck– just leave me alone, alright?" He huffs, picking up his coat and trudges out of the kitchen, leaving the empty can of beer behind and you listen to the sound of his feet stomping on the steps on his way up to the bedroom.
You know it's better to let him cool off a little before you go after him– let him think on his own or whatever. But your gut feeling tells you that it wouldn't be so easy to get through him tonight. That glum look he had on his face earlier on? That's not your Ransom.
You wrapped up your work, shutting down your laptop and stacking all the files you need for work tomorrow. That itself took about half an hour, so you decided that it was probably time to go up and head to bed, maybe talk to Ransom if he actually feels like talking.
He was sitting up against the headboard when you came in, chest bare and his hands holding open a book– probably a new piece that he's supposed to read through and edit or something. He barely looked up at you, just a simple glance over his metal-frame glasses before he's back to reading the words off the book.
If you weren't just a little pissed at him, you would've walked over and gave him a kiss on his nose just because he looks so goddamn irresistible in those glasses. But well, you're pissed. And obviously, Ransom wasn't going to start the conversation or even try to apologise with how he doesn't even bother to acknowledge your presence.
You hated it– the silence between you two, and you could only hear him flipping the pages every couple of minutes and the shuffling of your own movements as you got yourself ready for bed. The silence was too loud and you knew you would never fall asleep if you even tried to.
You grabbed your phone off the dresser as you head to the bed, deciding to grab your favourite pillow as well. You quickly thought about grabbing one of Ransom's too, knowing you'd have trouble sleeping without his scent. But you quickly threw the idea away, not wanting him to get the satisfaction of seeing you needing him just to sleep.
Ransom caught your movements through the corner of his eyes, and his heart beats just a little faster as he clears his throat. "Where you goin'?" He plays off the pressure blooming in his heart even though it's already making his brain overthink things.
Is this the part where you're just gonna go and leave him? Or you've just had enough of him?
"I'm not gonna go to sleep beside you when there's obviously something both of us aren't happy about." You stated simply in reply, barely looking at him before you're turning to leave the room.
He knows he should've gone after you, told you to stay. The bed's different without you sleeping in it beside him. When the door shuts behind you, he lets out a sigh, pulling the glasses off and throwing the book aside, watching as both items bounce lightly on your side of the bed– the one you should be sleeping in.
He considers picking the book up so he can continue with his annotations and edit anything he doesn't find right about it. But even he knows he's too out of his mind to even focus on it. He's worried and it's sending his brain into overdrive. It's making him paranoid about losing you and he hates the feeling.
Ransom picks the book and glasses up, setting those on his nightstand before he switches off the lamp and shuffles down on the bed. His arm instinctively reached over to your side of the bed, realising that the other side's cold and empty and nothing like what he's used to.
His finger clenches around your pillow that you left behind, pulling it to him as he buries his nose in your scent. He'll never tell you this, but he's gotten so used to you, your cuddles and your scent that he just cannot go to sleep without it.
He huffs, lying flat on the bed as he stares up at the ceiling, looking at the neon stars you had insisted on pasting on the ceiling. He'd never admit it, but the childish view really stuck with him and he actually finds it comforting now.
Ransom knows you're only going to the guest room down the hall but what if he wakes up tomorrow and you're nowhere home? What if you just decide that you've had enough of him and you just leave? Fuck– what if you're tired of all his crap and you decide that you deserve so, so much better than him?
Everything about the bed was wrong. The mattress is too soft, it's like you're sinking into the ground. The pillows are too new and it just smells like detergent, except for the pillow that you brought over from you and Ransom's room.
You weren't used to this– not feeling his arms around you while you sleep or not smelling his aftershave as you dozed off. It was different, and you hated the feeling.
Even as you hugged the pillow into your chest and clamped another between your legs, it still isn't comfortable enough for you to just fall asleep. You should've at least sneaked one of Ransom's shirt before you left the room. It wasn't him but it'd be a pretty decent alternative.
Ransom drags his feet as he trudges down the hallway. He's slept in the guest room once and he knows the pillows were too soft so he was just hugging the pillow you left to his chest. Just in case, y'know– you'd be too mad at him to even let him hug you.
He was scared to go in, but he just got jealous when he sees you sleeping with your back facing the door. He almost lets a humourless chuckle leave his lips. There he was, needing you just for him to sleep while you're there and sound asleep without him.
There's an annoying voice at the back of his head telling him that you don't need him as much as he needs you. But there's something else tugging at his heartstrings, begging for him to climb in beside you and join you on the bed.
For once? Ransom listens to the second voice.
You heard the shuffling of his feet against the floorboards and you instantly pretended to be asleep, heart thumping loudly against your chest as you hear the door creak open and a streak of light peek in. There was a quick glimpse of his shadow moving into the room before the door closes shut.
He hesitated before he climbs in beside you, the mattress sinking as he puts his palm on the bed. He knows it was too late to back out when he lies beside you, trying to decide between wrapping his arm around you or just hugging your pillow that he brought over.
Ransom took a deep breath as he lies on his side, one hand sliding under the pillow his head's on and the other shifts to go over your torso. He decided that there was nothing else to lose since he already threw away his pride when he entered the guest room. He pulls you against his chest, before his palm just rests awkwardly by your chest.
"I know you're mad." He sighs, thinking you're asleep so he can let the words spill out of his mouth. He kept his voice low because the last thing he wants to do is to wake you up. "You can scream at me tomorrow if you want to. Just let me hug you first."
You could've turned right then, wrap your arm around him so his hand isn't so awkwardly planted on the bed. But for some reason, you wanted to hear what else he was gonna say.
"I love you." He says, and he leans down to press a kiss against your hair. "I can't lose you– but you deserve so much better, baby."
Your stomach churned at his tone, feeling your eyes water at just how vulnerable he sounds. You couldn't bring yourself to turn, instead just waiting as he continues with whatever's on his mind.
"They said I don't deserve you." He takes a shaky breath. "That you'd be better off with someone who isn't an emotionless scumbag."
You turned immediately, seeing how his eyes were teary before it widens at your sudden movement. "Ransom." Your palm cups his jaw as your mind thoroughly registers what he said. "Hey, c'mon– you're the only one I need, alright?"
"You were up the whole time?" He chuckles breathlessly before he blinks away the tears in his eyes.
"Ran," You ignored his question, instead opting to lean up and kiss his forehead. "They're fucking wrong, okay? You mean the whole world to me, Ransom. I love you."
He shakes his head and he glances away to avoid looking at you. "They're right, y'know. You can do so much better than–" He scoffs, his bottom lip quivering and it only makes your heart breaks for him. "Me."
It pissed him off when they said it, when his own family members said that he's an asshole who doesn't deserve a sweetheart like you. Walt said that you'll just leave him someday when you see just how much of a mess he is.
Your thumbs rubbed over his cheekbones gently. "Baby, c'mon– don't listen to them, okay? I fucking love you. There's no one else I want, baby. And you're not an emotionless scumbag, okay? They don't see what I see. I'm all yours, alright? No one else matters. Just you, Ransom."
You push yourself up, bending your elbow and lean your head on your palm. Your thumb wipes the stray tear on his cheek.
"You can't tell anyone I cried."
You hum, letting your free hand rest on his cheek as he stares up at you. "You're pretty when you cry."
"First and last time, sweetheart." He huffs, even though there's a glint in his eyes. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and softly kissing your knuckles. "I'm sorry."
"Can I still scream at you tomorrow?"
"You can do anything you want as long as you promise you'll love me forever."
ransom *heart eyeshshsgdhshzhsh* drysdale
i just know that this man would be the softest asshole when he finds the right person for him. god, i just wanna ch*ke him for being so cute.
thanks for reading! reblogs/comments/likes/feedbacks are more than appreciated!! <33
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This 1Kinktober is to celebrate 1000 followers! 🎉. Also, the 1st anniversary of my first fic posted on this blog is 10/25! 🥳
I’m so humbled an honored that you chose to follow me. Love you ALLLLLL! 😘
Fics Will be posted at 4pm EST M-F and 2 pm EST ON Sat. and Sunday. Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!
Here is the Calendar of Kinks!
Dates in October
Thigh Riding Bottle Rocket-Sebastian Stan/Chris Evans
Lactation Kink Choices-Chris Evans
Filming Angel Baby- Jake Jensen
Spanking Never Been Kissed-Lin Manuel Miranda
Hand Kink Definitely, Possibly -Daveed Diggs
Public Sex Sorry Not Sorry -Chris Evans
Voice kink/Phone sex Very Merry - Rafael Casal
Cock warming Validation- Bucky Barnes
Breeding kink/Cum play Situationship - Chris Evans
Voyeurism Shake It Up- Sebastian Stan/Chris Evans
Praise kink Only Bad Choices- Rafael Casal
Clothing kink Nice and Slow-Janthony
Size kink The Fit and the Feel- Chris Evans
Creampie Posession- Bucky Barnes
Light BDSM Amnesia- Rafael Casal
Face Riding Make it Hot -Johnny Storm
Anal Little One- Ari Levinson
Wax Play Sensation-Bucky Barnes
Brat taming Couples Therapy Lin Manuel Miranda
Hair pulling Definitely Yes- Daveed Diggs
Breath play Tranquility-Rafael Casal
Begging Salutation- Bucky Barnes
30-yr old Virgin AdorkableChris777- Chris Evans
Coercion Coercion-Ransom Drysdale
Toys FS14:Time to Play -Daveed Diggs
Edging Lesson Learned -Rafael Casal
Cuckholding Spin it ‘Round -C Evans/Sebastian Stan
Clit slapping Fuck Me Heels-Andy Barber
Threesome Round Two-Bay Boys
Multiple Those Who Seek Release Select Avengers
The Absolute Point Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes
Notice: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
Divider by @firefly-graphics
I hope you enjoy!
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𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 | 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦
summary: Excon!Ransom shows up on your doorstep. What’s the worse that could happen?
warnings: excon!Ransom. smut. rough sex. dubcon. oral sex (female receiving). exhibitionism. surprise guest. dark!ending.
word count: 1,846
author’s note: thank you @river-soul for looking this over. 💙
☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾
“Ransom!?” You squeak; shock written on your face as the excon stands on your doorstep. “What? How?”
He tilts his head to the ground and looks at you under his lashes. “I got out this morning,” he admits. “And you were the first thing on my to do list.”
His lips pull into a sly smirk as his eyes travel the length of your body. “So, are you gonna let me in?” His teeth tug at his plump bottom lip, “Be the good girl you said you’d be?”
Your eyes widen at the question. So, he did get the letter.
After a long week at work, you made the mistake of relaxing with a bottle of wine and built up the courage to write a rather lewd letter to the inmate. You left it in your mailbox before you talked yourself out of it.
He never mentioned the letter so you figured you must’ve made a fool of yourself and never spoke of it during your correspondence.
“C’mon Kitten, you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you.”
He takes a step into your home, invading your space as you push yourself flat against the door. “Ransom, I- I’m not su- sure.” You trip over the words as his bulky chest invades your view.
His index finger curls under your jaw forcing your eyes to his. “Know how many times I’ve thought about this moment? Hm?”
You never thought you’d be in this position. Drooling over the salacious man before you. You still have no idea why you started writing to the confessed killer but you chalked it up to being lonely.
Still, you knew this man and the things he was capable of.
“I’ve wasted countless loads on my hand every night thinkin’ of you.” His hips pin yours to the door, his arousal evident by the prominent bulge in his jeans. “So, I think it’s only fair that I get to finally feel that cunt around my cock.”
You were at war with yourself. Nerves and arousal fog your mind. It was one thing to have a friendship with a killer but it was a completely different to fuck said killer. No matter how good looking he was.
“I can see those gears turning, Kitten.” Ransom quipped. “I got out early on good behavior.” His pearly whites flash in the sunshine as his face twists into a sneer. “Granted, I just never got caught.”
His statement causes a chill to run up your spine.
Who knows the horrors he had to endure? His body had filled out over the years. His muscles bulge under the thin fabric of the cardigan with every move. You spy inked words on his chest and the beard he now sports frames his weathered face perfectly.
His hand quickly covers your jaw, keeping your head still as his lips press against yours. You whimper into the searing kiss as his tongue teasingly swipes over your parted lips before he’s pulling away and standing at full height.
The air feels thick as he stares at you. A strand of hair has fallen out of his perfectly gelled mane making him look dastardly.
“You gotta tell me no right now if you don’t want this cause once I start, there’ll be no stoppin’ me.” His threat is simple but effective. You bid your time, swallowing down your nerves as your inner turmoil boils over.
“Fuck me, Ransom.” Your breath catches in your throat as his features turn ravenous.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
In an instant, your dress is torn down the middle. The fabric stings your skin as he rips it from your body and lets it fall to the ground.
“God damn, you’re a fuckin’ sight for sore eyes.” He muses as he takes in your scantily clad form.
Your hands weave around his shoulders as he nips at your collarbone leaving bite marks in his wake. Strong hands hastily rip your bra off and he suckles at your breast, earning him delightful, angelic sounds that poor from your lips.
His tongue swirls around your perky bud while his hand tugs harshly at the other. Ransom growls into your flesh and pushes you harder into the door before heading south.
He snickers when he sees the wet patch on your panties.
“You gettin’ wet cause of me, Kitten or cause I’m gonna fuck you where anyone can see?”
You were so distracted you didn’t realize your neighbors could look out their doors and see you getting fucked against yours.
“Ransom, let’s move inside.” You plead, pushing against the hulk of a man as he sits on his knees sniffing your panties. He licks a hot stripe up your clothed crotch making you gasp.
“This cunt ain’t going anywhere.” He snarls while sliding your panties down your legs.
He buries his face in your heat and drinks you down with prowess. He flicks your clit from side to side before taking the bud into his mouth and sucking hard.
Your fingers tug at his auburn locks and you grind your cunt against his face, instantly forgetting about the scandalous front door display.
He catches your gaze as he thrusts two fingers into your sodden core and groans. “That sure is a tight, cock hungry pussy.”
Your head lolls back against the door when he caresses the spongy muscle just behind your clit, tempting you closer with every thrust.
“Gonna come for me?” His beard glistens with your arousal. “Let me feel how tight this cunt can be.”
Another pass over that sensitive spot and you are done. Your body locks like a vice around his fingers as his mouth finds your clit and forces you to come with a ragged scream.
Sunshine beats against your skin as you catch your breath. Its warm haze mingles with the electricity in your veins until a dark shadow covers your body.
When you open your eyes, Ransom is standing at full height and pulling his length out before slowly stroking it to full mast. His cock is angry and red, the bulbous tip weeping desperately for attention.
“Best get used to havin’ your cunt stretched cause I’m not lettin’ you off my cock until I’ve had my fill.”
Ransom roughly grabs one of your legs and wraps it around his waist. His crown probes your petals just before he thrusts into your heat at a shockingly slow pace until he’s fully seated in you.
“Fuck.” He grunts when he bottoms out. You squeal and shift onto your toes as he cruelly nudges your cervix with his length.
“Feels fuckin’ unbelievable. Just like the first time.” He confesses with a sigh. He cants his hips and thrusts into you again only with more force, making you mewl.
“Too much cock for you? Hmm?” He mocks as your core swirls around him. “I can feel you milkin’ me already.”
Each drive of his hips has you writhing in pleasure. You claw at his cardigan, anxiously trying to keep your moans at bay.
“Why so quiet, Kitten? Do you not want your neighbors knowin’ how much of a cock slut you are?”
You clasp a hand over your mouth, desperate to quell your sobs as he endlessly drives his throbbing cock into your channel.
“No, no. Put that hand back around my neck.” He commands, his eyes dark and voracious as you acquiesce.
His girth fervidly spears into your warmth and your folds drag over his thick length. Never has a cock stretched your pussy so much. It makes your belly tumble from the gratifying assault as he forces your orgasm to spike.
Your limbs sizzle and heat blossoms in your core as you suddenly drag Ransom over the cliff with you.
His hips frantically pummel yours into the door as he chases his orgasm. His girth swells as he pumps his come into your womb. He doesn’t stop thrusting until his balls are empty and come is leaking down your thighs.
“Well, what’re the fuckin’ odds?” A deep, bemused voice cuts through the lustful haze sending you crashing back to earth. You cast an anxious glace over Ransom’s shoulder to find your handsome neighbor standing on the front stoop.
You’ve been friendly with the lawyer, bringing him baked goods and checking in on him from time to time. He was a lonely soul and you tried your best to remind him that he didn’t need to be.
You squirm under Ransom’s weight, desperate to close the door as Andy climbs the steps. “That you Drysdale?”
Ransom sighs in contentment and leans back on his heels in all his sinful glory. His cream covered cock slowly deflates as you scurry to cover your naked body with your tattered dress.
He turns to look at Andy. “In the flesh.” He cracks a smile at the man before tucking himself away. “What’re you doing here?”
Andy nods his head to the side, “I live next door.”
Ransom’s brows shoot up in amusement. “No shit. Those are some fuckin’ odds.”
Andy tries his best to look elsewhere as you cover up. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, “Sorry, I heard a noise and got concerned.”
“Oh. Yeah.” You rub a hand nervously over your face before gesturing to Ransom and yourself. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”
He waves a hand dismissing your apology. “No. Don’t be. I was the one intruding.” He sends you a soft, crooked smile and it makes your heart skip a beat.
You take a step towards the kitchen wanting to break the uncomfortable silence and offer the men a glass of water. “Or did you want something stronger?”
Andy steps fully into your house and surveys the new surroundings. “I’m all set. Thanks though.”
Andy holds your eyes for a curious second before turning to Ransom and shutting the front door. “Told you she was sweet, didn’t I?”
Your brows knit together with nervous confusion as Ransom takes a foreboding step towards you.
Ransom’s voice is low and contemplative as he tugs at his beard, “That you did. That you did.”
“What does he mean by that?” Your lip trembles, realizing you couldn’t trust either man standing before you.
“Andy told me all about you during our meetings.” Ransom says with an eerie calm.
He deepens his voice, pretending to sound like Andy. “Pretty little helpless thing, right next door. Just begging to be taken care of.”
You hug yourself tight, backing up slowly until the couch hits the backs of your knees. They buckle, sending you collapsing onto the couch as the growing anxiety fills the pit of your stomach.
“Had no idea it was you though. That right there’s some sort of fucked up luck.” Ransom wickedly chuckles.
The two men stand on either side of you and share a sinister look that makes tears prick your eyes.
“Hows’a about you thank me for helping him, Honey.” Andy offers, his hands falling to his belt and he unfastens the leather. “It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
😬 who wants to thank Andy???? 🙌
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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You were so good this whole week, Ransom had to reward you in the best way he knew.
𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: Sugar Daddy!Ransom Drysdale x Sugar Baby!Fem!Reader
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit sexual content; explicit language; sugar daddy - sugar baby relationship; daddy kink; kinda innocent reader (Ransom is her first man); teasing; dirty talk; pussy eating; unprotected sex (wrap it up!!); p in v; vaginal penetration; (let me know if I forgot something)
(not checked; all mistakes are mine)
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! The warning is given, you are responsible for what you read
(not my gif)
Ransom was your lifesaver. You didn't come from a wealthy home, and precious, exclusive items or products were foreign to you. Going to college was your priority. You’ve always wanted to become a lawyer in the future. That's when he came on your way.
It was a simple arrangement. No deep relationships, no feelings. Just money and sex. Really good sex by the way. The perfect solution for both of you. You didn’t need a boyfriend, with so much work at the university - you didn’t have time for that kind of shit. And Ransom didn’t need another liability, a little pretty thing to show off was enough.
Ransom acted like a complete asshole most of the time. But what you really loved about him - he was never like this with you. He loved degrading you but only in the bedroom. For everyone else, he was a dick.
You were the only person in his life that he really cared about. That’s why he was treating you like a real princess, you were. Making you feel like the only woman in the world. Ransom was the first man that you ever slept with so he wanted all of the things you were doing to be unforgettable. When you and Ransom went over the details, you imagined it all differently. His behavior was a pleasant surprise for you.
When you thought about sugar daddy, the first thing that popped up in your mind was an old, disgusting man who would think only about getting his tiny dick wet. Ransom was everything but that. He’d shown you that every single day since you’d made it official. And that’s why you were absolutely falling for him.
“I have a surprise for you, daddy!” You said with a little smirk playing on your face. “You were so busy with the publishing company lately, that I thought about doing something nice ”
Ransom was painful hard just by the view of you in the tiny little dress that barely covered your ass. The fact that you were wearing clothes he bought for you, worked in a weird twisted way on him.
You started playing with the zipper placed on your side, teasing Ransom a little before sliding it down. He whimpered when he saw baby pink, lace underwear. His eyes kept traveling back to your face and the skimpy set that barely covered your gorgeous body. It wasn’t leaving too much to the imagination, you could be as well naked and he wouldn’t tell the difference.
“You like it, daddy?” You asked with the innocence in your Bambi's eyes. “I chose it because I know how much you like this color on me.”
“God, baby!” He dropped to his knees. “You’re killing me.” His hands on both your hips, making sure to press enough to leave bruises. “You’re so good for me, cutie pie.” Ransom’s lips were on your belly, kissing and biting from time to time. “Let daddy show you, his good little girl, how glad he is to have you.”
You moaned out loud at his dirty words. He was everything you have ever dreamt of. Ransom loved teasing you but today all he wanted was to worship you and your body. His talented fingers started playing with the line of your panties, slowly pulling them down.
“Daddy, please…” Your groaning was music to his ears. He loved when you were getting all loud and whining. You took a bunch of his hair and pulled his face closer to your core.
“You’re so impatient today.” Ransom looked up at you. “Baby, you have to ask daddy nicely first. How can he make you feel good when he doesn’t know what you want?” He teased you even more.
“It’s tingling again…” Your innocence would be the death of him. After all the dirty stuff you have done together, you still couldn’t talk dirty to him.
His fingers traveled to the center of your most intimate zone, touching lightly. The sensation only added to your already-building orgasm.
“Daddy…” Your moans woke up something hidden deep inside of him. You were so responsive - it was killing him. “I need more!”
“Yeah, baby girl?” Ransom couldn’t stop himself from annoying you a little more. The fact that you were so close to losing control delighted him. “How about my lips on your sweet pussy?” Your loud whimper was an answer enough for him.
“Yes! Daddy, pretty please!” You pulled his hair with much more vigor than was needed. “I was such a good girl this whole week.”
He broke away from your wet core and looked up at you, you’d never been more beautiful. “Is that right, princess? Did you earn enough to make me get down on you?”
“Of course yes, Daddy!” You were panting and pouting. The desperation in your voice only added to his already high ego. “I will always be your good girl!” That was right. One Ransom had to taste how delicious your pussy was, there was nothing in this world that could set you free from his claws.
Ransom had no conscience to torment you any longer. His talented tongue was everything you needed right then. And he was going to give you that and much more - anything you could ever dream of.
Ransom smirked against your wet core as he assaulted your poor clit. His tongue was flicking back and forth. You keened loudly grinding your hips into his handsome face.
Soft lips wrapped around your nub, Ransom was sucking it fiercely. He started teasing your entrance with his fingers as well. The pleasure you felt was too much. It always was with him.
You couldn’t help but thrash against Ransom’s mouth. That was when he pulled back, causing your loud scream of disagreeing to escape from your lips. “You’re getting close?” He asked with a - too sweet for him - smile. Ransom knew that he had just stopped you from the long-awaited orgasm.
“Y-yes!” You weren’t able to think clearly. Everything went blurry for a moment. White-hot pleasure coursed through your veins as he returned to work. You didn’t need much time to get close to cumming again.
“There she is!” A few movements of his tongue were enough to bring you to ecstasy. What a sight for sore eyes. Ransom’s lips never left your mound as you rode out your high. “You’re absolutely delicious baby.” He kissed the inner side of your right thigh. “Did so good for me.” His lips made their way up to your lips. “Now, I’m gonna have my reward.” Ransom smiled looking straight into your eyes.
“You gonna fuck me, daddy?” That he was impressed is an understatement. It was the first time you said what you meant without beating about the bush. “I really want it, daddy.” Your innocent smile did not fit the fire playing in your eyes.
“Is that right, sweetheart?” He was back to teasing. “You want my big, fat cock to stretch your little pussy? Gonna feel me for days.”
Ransom leaned up against your back, covering your belly, his hands snaking around your waist. He hummed into the crook of your neck from behind.
His action made your breath rapid, the goosebumps all over your sensitive skin. You reached behind you to pull him in closer.
You felt his member grow into the small of your back. Ransom’s fingers made their way to brush around your nipples. Your moans were the answer enough for him. You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging Ransom close to your lips.
He whimpered against your open mouth. Tongues dancing with one another, his hands squeezing your ass harshly. More groans coming from you, making Ransom even harder.
You pulled away to gaze into his gorgeous eyes. Before you could react he grabbed you up by your thighs and took you upstairs at high speed. Your lips never split out. Kisses being more and more mouth-watering.
Lightly, Ransom set you down on the king-sized bed. His hands were warm on your skin. Large enough to make you feel so good. He stopped to take off his own clothes.
Ransom quickly pulled his sweater over his head. Teasing, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers with painful slowness. Your hands made their way up to his chest, creating your own way.
He was left in his briefs with cock already excited for your pussy. Ransom pumped himself a few times. You wanted to undo your bra but he stopped you. “I paid for it so I’ll take it off.” He said with a hint of dominance in his voice.
Ransom removed the last piece of your underwear. Your eyes lit up at the sight of his pretty hard cock. It was your favorite part of your daddy’s body.
“Like what you see, princess?” He couldn’t stop himself from teasing you a little more. Ransom climbed onto the bed next to you. His hands laid on your smooth thighs.
Your wetness stained the sheet on the bed. Everything was just a little too much. Lightly, Ransom bumped into your wet core. Leaning in close, your lips connected again.
He was watching your folds open up as he smothered his cock in your essence. Sweet moans came from your mouth, he wasn’t ready to move just yet.
You still felt that he was stretching you. His tip was kissing your cervix perfectly. Ransom’s hands went to your breast, playing with your nipples as you grind slowly. His cock was pushing up at the perfect angle.
His balls were smacking your ass, only adding to your pleasure. “Daddy, fuck!” You moaned right into his mouth.
“God, I love the feel of you wrapped around my cock.” He started kissing his way down your neck. “You’re so good for me, baby.”
You couldn’t think clearly when he was fucking you this well. Another orgasm was torn from your body, you could feel it from your stomach right to your toes.
Ransom didn’t slow down. His movements got even more fast and rough as he was trying to chase his own climax. You could tell that he was almost there. “Cum in my, please daddy! I need it so bad!”
He couldn't deny you anything, you had too much influence over him. White-hot ropes of cum drenched your walls, marking you. Ransom carefully left your sensitive now pussy.
After a few moments, you were curled into his warm chest, recovering from the previous activity. Thoughts appeared in your head, you wanted to tell him what was bothering you for a quite long time now. But you were afraid that he would cut you off and cut the relationship you have now.
Seconds turned into minutes, you couldn’t stop yourself from spilling your hidden secret. “Daddy…” You look him in the eyes.
“Yes, princess?” Ransom kissed your forehead and then your lips, making you weak in your knees. “Something wrong?” He looked worried.
“No… I’m just-” You took a deep breath. “I think I’m in love with you.”
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Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only
Warnings: drugging, noncon, videoing and sharing porn, noncon orgy vibes, sexual harassment, post knives out au, ambiguous ending (if you want more you have to ask 😤)
Relationship: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1391
Summary: Ransom begs for a deal.
A/N: this is all posted on mobile, so if the formatting is weird that's why. For @danneelsmain She Wants Revenge villain!reader fic challenge. This was so fun! Happy to write a wicked character any day. Prompt is in bold.
This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. I have discontinued my taglist - follow @slothspaghettilibrary to be notified of when I post.
Your name rings in his ears. The sound of it sets off bells and alarms and flashing lights, screaming at him to get the fuck out dodge as soon as possible. It's not self preservation boiling up in his gut and making him sweat, it's genuine fear. Your name is hollow and fuzzy in his ears, he can barely make out the words. Hopelessness makes Ransom's chest tighten as he remembers the last time he saw you.
He feels like he’s on top of world, truly untouchable, a fucking god. You were stupid enough to believe he wanted to just hang out, away from the party happening downstairs. God you were stupid with two OOs. He can’t get over the look on your face, your eyes glossed over with whatever shit they’d put in your cup. His phone flashed as he took another picture.
“Look at me, c’mon, you can’t be that cockdrunk, be a good slut and stick that tongue out.”
Ransom forced your head back until you were tetter on the verge of falling over. You whimpered, but did as you were told, your eyes struggling to stay open. He nodded to the other boys around him, keeping a steady hand on his phone. It took less than 10 seconds, and you were covered in cum. Fluids dripped down your cheeks, slipping past your lips and into your still open mouth. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at how filthy you looked.
“Dump her in the bathroom, she can sleep it off there.”
He has to close his eyes. The memory shouldn’t be this hot. He barely remembers what happened after that, whether you got yourself cleaned up or if he made a freshman wipe you down and take you back to your room. He just remembers sharing that video around and jacking off to it for the rest of the semester and never seeing you again. Ransom didn’t really care because you didn’t matter. You didn’t matter.
But now you do.
Linda’s harsh voice echoing around the office is what kills his boner. Reminds him that they are actually in a meeting to discuss who has been made the judge on his case. The high class expensive lawyers his mother has bought seem relieved by this. Linda is fucking exstatic. They know you, know your family, can talk to you. Ransom can talk to you, privately of course. Reminisce and catch up since you haven’t spoken to each other in ages. What's the harm in that?
Before he can tell them to fuck off, Linda is on the phone and the lawyers are guiding her through the appropriate way to ask for a dinner meeting, sans business, of course. And you are agreeing. Your voice sounds so pleased over the line, like your ethics mean nothing to you and that you would be more than happy to have a private meal with the family whose case is about to make your career.
The restaurant is bougie, just Linda’s style for a meeting like this. It’s dripping in old money and class and secrets. The booth he’s been sitting in for nearly 15 goddamn minutes now is near the back and the lighting is low. It’s a place designed for meetings like this one and not so much about the food.
He rolls his glass between his palms, the melted ice is ruining the whiskey, but he is too busy staring at the door. Waiting and waiting, he's not sure how long you are going to keep him waiting now that you hold all the cards. Honestly, he doesn't know if you'll show up at all at this point. He wouldn't, and that's the only damn thing he is sure of right now.
A waiter comes by and once again asks if he is ready to order. Just as he's about to snark some shitty comment, there you are - walking, sauntering, stalking towards him in an outfit meant to slay men like him. Ransom's mouth dries up and he has to clear his throat before he croaks. Everything about you drips in elegance and control, you bring men to your knees everyday with your judgements and you were going to do the same to him.
"It's good to see you, Ran, it's been a long time."
He's nodding along before he can stop himself. "Yeah, yeah, I mean college feels like a lifetime ago right?"
"It does, and now this-" you cut yourself off, looking at the waiter expectantly, "Manhattan, make it a double."
You wait until they are gone to speak again. Eyes drilling into Ransom like you can see into his soul, like with one glance you knew everything he is guilty of because you know a bad guy when you see one. And everything about Hugh Ransom Drysdale is a bad guy.
"I don't care if you have to get on your knees and crawl across broken glass and then fuck her into the next century. You will get her on our side."
Linda's words are still making his ears ring. He can still feel her yanking his shirt down until they were eye level so he could hear her threat loud and clear.
"It's good to see something's don't change," you sigh, leaning forward and angling the low cut of your neckline right at his face. "So what do you want?"
"What? Friends can't get together for a chat now?" He tries to sound cool, but even a deaf guy could hear the strain in his voice when he said friends.
"I don't think we were ever friends, Ran. Do you?"
"I- yeah, for like a blip in time I thought we were friends. Ya know, studying together, I proofread your essays a couple of times."
"I don't think so," you tap your finger on the table, perfectly manicured nails shining in the dim lights. "Because a very different memory comes to mind when I think of you."
"Look I know, that was stupid of me. It was a huge mistake. But I'm a different guy now. This stuff they are trying to pin on me, it ain't true. And I need your help. I'll do anything."
"Anything, I'll fuckin' mow your lawn every week for life and grovel on my knees until you get sick of me."
Your drink arrives quietly and efficiently. The small metal pin holding onto the cherry balances precariously on the edge, like any sudden movement and it will tumble into the floor, but with ease and grace you are plucking it out of danger. That is your power, the ability to pluck things from bad situations and rescue them, save them from years of hell on earth and complete ruin. Or you can banish them, send them away with just a flick of your wrist because you felt like it. He just had to figure out how to sweet talk you the right way.
"You would look good on your knees," you hum, a hungry smirk forming on your lips.
Is this how you want revenge for that dumb stunt? You want to see him beg for your help? Ransom grits his teeth, swallows the lump in his throat that he is pretty sure is his whole ego and all his pride. This is better than jail, it has to be better than jail, because the thought of actually going to that shit hole makes his insides shrivel up. Humiliation and disdain boil up in his gut and threaten to spew out as hot anger. His heart is telling him to tell you to eat shit and die.
But he can't do that.
He slides off the booth and hits his knees right there in front of you and everyone else in this fucking restaurant.
"Please," he begs. "I'll do anything."
You look down at him, gaze calculating and hard. The cherry garnish is still in your hand, your fingers are still swirling that glowing little red ball around. Ransom watches you raise it to your lips, how it shines in the light and how your lips suck it off the metal toothpick. He flinches when your teeth burst the cherry, a little moan coming from your lips like you were savoring every second of this and that was the proverbial cherry on top. Your smile turns wicked when you grip his chin, shaking his head just a little to be extra fucking infuriating, but he will not the blow his lid. He fucking won't.
“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
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ransom drysdale had met you by complete chance, and despite being from two very different worlds, he did something he never thought he’d do. he fell in love with you, an independent woman in need of being spoiled. oh, he was going to give you the world.
please feel free to request blurbs about this au!
disclaimers | sugar daddy/sugar baby like relationships, daddy kink, bdsm, mean!ransom, dom!ransom, degradation, dom/sub relationship
by no means does the race of the girl in the moodboards indicate the race of reader! it’s just the position and messaging that i enjoyed when i made it
you’re insecure about fitting in with ran’s friends
you get fucked in front of his family
ransom fucks you into subspace
you and ransom get in your first real fight
you want to ride him
ransom punishes you
ransom gets you a collar
you cockwarm ransom at family dinner
pussy spanking with ransom
you get in a accident
you act like a brat when you get jealous
ransom fucks in the elevator
ransom assures after someone talks bad about you
ransom fuck you while he facetimes your ex
ran fucks you in the window
you get your nipples pierced
you break the rules
you get a dog
ransom and dew’s engagement party
ransom fingers you at a dinner party
how you met ransom
ransom takes you a sex club
ransom fucks you on the hood of his car
you thank ransom for spoiling you
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