#ransom drysdale x poor!reader

[krirebr]

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

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

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

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grandkid,” you interrupted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that I saw.”

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

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

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

She nodded and left. 

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

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

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

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

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

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

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged and shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I don’t?”

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

“No, no, please,” you begged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

#fic rec #dark fic #dark!clark kent #dark!peter parker #dark!steve rogers #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!morpheus #dark!curtis everett #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!daemon targaryen #dark!bruce wayne #dark!bakugou #dark!ransom drysdale #x reader

[holylulusworld]

Two can play a game

Summary: Your arranged marriage is far from perfect. When Ransom takes one step too far, you pay him back the best way possible.

Pairing: Mafia!Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader, ???!Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, arranged marriage, Ransom being an asshole, cheating, implied cheating, mentions of sidepieces, making out, implied smut, mafia au

There he is, licking whipped cream off some bimbos’ tits. The woman moans and fakes she’s having fun. Just like some many greedy bitches wanting to get their hands on his wealth before.

Ransom Drysdale. Your husband. The self-declared gift to all women.

At the beginning of your arranged marriage, you easily overlooked his flaws and quirks. He was a good-looking and charming man, easily working his way into your heart and between your legs.

Ransom was passionate and sweet. Even if he was a little too cocky and arrogant for your taste. He was a prick to most people, including your friends. The only person he treated with respect was you.

Back then you believed this arranged marriage can work out.

Sometimes you even felt loved by your husband. And you reflected his feelings.

But all good things come to an end.

Your little bubble burst when you walked in on him railing one of the new maids. He didn’t even try to hide his infidelity. Proud of himself for leading you on, and making you believe you are more than a pawn to him.

Ransom declared your marriage is not a real marriage. Arranged marriages don’t count in his opinion. That’s what he said. His poor excuse for cheating on you.

Since that day, you refuse to sleep in the same room with him. Just like you didn’t let him touch you. The thought of riding the same dick he pushed into some bitch’s cunt was enough to leave your pussy dry most of the time when it comes to your husband.

“Oh, my beloved wife,” Ransom lifts his head from his latest conquest’s tits.

“Does she want to join us?” The girl squeaks as her eyes land on you.

Ransom grins, but you ignore the little pang in your chest. “Ah, better not. She’s frigid, you know.” He says to the girl he has on top of your kitchen counter.

“When you are done here, call someone to get rid of the kitchen counter. You never know where your little skank was before you found her on the sidewalk,” you snap at your husband.

He watches you open the fridge to get a bottle of water. “If you would excuse us now,” he grunts. “Or do you want to watch?” Ransom tries to rile you up. It’s a fight for dominance and you won’t lose it.

“Sorry, but limp dicks don’t do it for me, honey,” you bite back. “I’ll talk to our neighbor. He invited me over to talk about the next book we want to read. At least he’s got good taste.”

“See. That’s why I prefer fucking hot women like Cassie.”

“My name is Kathy,” the blonde protests. “Did you already forget my name?” She frowns deeply. “Ran?”

“He didn’t even listen when you told him your name.” You walk out of the kitchen, sway in your hips. “If you go home with Ransom Drysdale, you are destined to get disappointed. In any way. He doesn’t even know where to find your G-spot, and he won’t try to find it …

“Y/N, hey,” Andy smiles widely when you stand in front of his door. It happens ever so often since you found out about Ransom’s infidelity. “Bad day?”

You sniff and shake your head. “Do you have a drink with my name on it, Andy?” He opens the door wider to let you in. Andy doesn’t ask what happened. He waits for you to talk to him.

“Always, neighbor.” He closes the door behind you. “What can I offer to you.”

“Distraction, and maybe a place to stay for the night,” you lick your lips. “Ransom has company.” Your eyes drop to the diamond ring on your finger.

“He brought one of his sidepieces to your home,” Andy sounds almost shocked. Almost… “Why would he do such a thing?”

“He likes to play games.” You shrug. “I refused to play along and let him fuck me after I found out about his harem of bimbos. If only he was at least a himbo with a big dick.”

Andy nods thoughtfully when you finally explode.

“I had to let my doctor check me for STDs. Can you imagine how I felt? I’m married and ask them to run all the tests. I bet they believed I’m the one who cheated!” You start to pace the room. “I haven’t looked at another man.”

“Y/N, you need to take deep breaths,” Andy softly speaks to you. 

He looks at you with soft blue eyes, and fuck, he looks so good. Did he always look so good?

“No. I need to get this out.” You raise your hand. “I-I was always faithful. I could’ve fucked countless guys, but I didn’t. Because that’s not who I am, Andy.”

“I know. You’re a good girl,” he replies, making you stop in your tracks.

He looks at you, eyes drifting toward your lips. You take a breath, and another before you grab his face to kiss him. Andy doesn’t hesitate. He eagerly kisses you back.

Damn, he tastes even better. Like mint, and the coffee he drank. You cup the back of his neck and run your free hand over his back. He moans into you, tongue delving into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he wraps his arms around you and kisses you again. This time, he suckles at your tongue. “You taste so good.”

He laughs against you. “You too,” Andy nips at your lips. “Do you want this? I don’t want to take advantage of you. We can just talk a little and…”

You silence his doubts with your lips. “I wanted you the moment you moved in across the street four years ago.”

“Same,” he pants between kisses. “But you were married, and I was freshly divorced.” You grab the hem of his shirt, shoving it up to his arms. “Fuck, you looked so cute in your summer dress.”

“Yeah?” You whine as he buries his face in your neck. He kisses your skin, nipping and licking your sweet spot while you hastily unbuckle his belt. “What did you want to do with me?”

“Fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” Andy shoves his pants down his legs, stepping out of them.

“Just like right now?”

You gasp when he grips your hips to hoist you up and slam you into the wall, causing a few picture frames to drop to the ground.

Andy doesn’t seem to mind. He crushes his lips onto yours, kissing you passionately. You moan into his mouth and wrap your legs around his waistline.

“Right now,” he growls against you. All softness is gone when he looks at you pressed against the wall. “I wanna ruin you for him.”

“Ruin me. Make me yours,” you challenge. You allow him to grind his erection against your core and offer your body to him. All you want in return is to forget about your unfaithful husband.

“If you let me have you, I won’t allow you to go back to him. You’ll be mine,” Andy warns. “Name what you want.”

You whimper at his words. Ransom never asked what you want. No one ever did.

“You.” You breathlessly reply. “I want you. Make me forget about him.”

You roll to your side, smiling as your eyes land on the man next to you. Still, you hold your breath. What if this wasn’t the best idea you ever had?

What if he regrets what happened last night?

What if he breaks his promises and forgot about all the things he said to you while he claimed your body?

Andy dips his head to look at you. “Morning beautiful.” He rolls to his side to look at you. “Slept well?”

“Yeah,” you don’t know why your voice trembles. Maybe because you fear Andy is the same as your unfaithful husband. He seems so different from the prick you are married to, but you let a pretty face and charming personality fool you once.

Andy runs his hand over your arm, fingertips tickling your skin. “What do you want to do today?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. Honestly, after last night everything has changed. You only came to Andy’s house to seek shelter for a few hours, or one night.

Now that you gave in to your feelings, you cannot go back to Ransom and pretend it doesn’t break you to see how less you mean to him.

“How about we go to your house, deliver the divorce papers I prepared while you were sleeping, and pack your things? I’ll bring a few friends to help you carry the heavy stuff.”

You’re taken aback. “What?” Stammering you look at Andy who lovingly cups your cheek to press a soft kiss on your lips. “Andy, this isn’t funny. I need to think about what to do now. You don’t know my husband. He’s a prick, but also dangerous and he won’t let me walk out on him so easily.”

“You think I care?” Andy chuckles darkly. “Oh, beautiful. I told you that you are going to be mine when you let me, have you. Didn’t I?”

“Yes.” You remember vividly how you begged him to make you his, and only his. That you agreed to become his pretty little wife, and always cum for him. “That was in the heat of the moment. Wasn’t it?”

“Y/N, I dreamed of taking you out for years. Every time I wanted to ask you to leave your husband, you told me about him with so much adoration that I couldn’t make a move. But now that I know he fucked up, I can’t miss the chance.”

“Andy, I can’t end my marriage only to become someone else’s arm candy or his most prized possession. I’m not a toy, nor a brainless doll you can use.”

“Baby, I swear this isn’t how I see you,” Andy presses another soft kiss on your lips. “Let me help you. If you don’t want to be with me, I understand. All I want is to make sure that Ransom Drysdale leaves you the fuck alone.”

“Why?” You question.

“Because,” he kisses you again, slow and gentle, “I think I love you…”

“Y/N, what’s the douche from next door doing at my house,” Ransom follows you and Andy. “I’m talking to you!”

“Oh, I thought as you are busy disappointing one of your playthings with your limp dick,” you snap at Ransom. “I can bring a real man to satisfy my needs too.”

“Beautiful, why don’t you go upstairs and look for all the things you want to take with you? My friends will be here any minute.”

“Okay,” you nervously glance at Ransom. “Be careful. He’s dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Andy pecks your cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

Turning his head toward Andy your husband’s features darken. “If you touched my wife, you are dead.” He pats the gun hidden under his jacket. “If you leave my house now, I’ll only break every bone in your body.”

Andy laughs into Ransom’s face.

“You’ve got no clue who I’m.” Stepping toward your husband, Andy sizes Ransom up. “Do you honestly believe you are scaring me? You’re nothing but a pathetic man cheating on his beautiful wife and,” Andy leans closer to Ransom to whisper in his ear. “I’m long enough in town to know that you are not on top of the food chain any longer. Your time is running out.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!”

“The deal last week,” Andy smirks darkly, “the one you couldn’t seal? I took it over. Your business partners are my partners now. Your wife. Is mine. Your friends, mine too. I dismantled Ransom Drysdale piece by piece.”

“Why? How?”

“At first, I moved in next door to check your territory out. But then, I saw your wife and the way you treated her. She didn’t know you were a piece of shit cheating on her from day one.”

“You did all this for my wife?” Ransom hiccups. “You’re insane. Starting a war over some pussy!”

“You don’t get it,” Andy hisses. “Y/N is not some pussy to me. She’s everything, and I’ll make her my queen.”

While you look for the things you want to take with you, Andy threatens Ransom and his organization.

When you walk back down the stairs, your husband already signed the divorce papers. He will let you go and get out of town as fast as possible.

Ransom didn’t know that no one messes with Andrew Barber. The head of the Boston mafia. One of the deadliest men alive…

Tags in reblog.

#Two can play a game #andy barber #ransom drysdale #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #angst #tw: cheating #mafia au

[buckets-and-trees]

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k

Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content Warnings: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language, mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit), use of pet names + no y/n

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

Restore my health with your lovely reblogs, commentary, comments...

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[babyjakes]

dreamy undoing.

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event | april '23 ddlg-themed blurb night

summary | when you need it most, ransom knows exactly how to clear out your pretty little head.

pairing | daddy!ransom drysdale x little!reader

warnings | ddlg. soft sweet doting daddy!ransom. toys: warming cream, clit pump, vibe, butt plug. fingering. soo much praise, a little dumbification, lots of "shhhhh"s which are my favorite hehe <3. reader cries a little but only due to pleasure. reader is tied up. multiple orgasms, squirting.

word count | 1,517

requested by 🫧 anon | Life has been so stressy lately and I just know that Daddy Ari or Daddy Andy (or any Daddy you feel like writing!) would put together the perfect plan to wipe all the stressy thoughts from their little one’s brain. Daddy would make sure she feels all safe and little first, and then maybe tie her up to show her some new toys he got for her as he tells her that he’s going to use them to make all her stress go away. By the end, all she can do is come and squirt over and over and over again as daddy makes her make a big big mess.

an | ohh bestie i'm so glad you sent in a toy request, i have been craving a good toy fic and this was perfectly timed for blurb night!! hope it's alright with you that i chose ransom, i just love him and miss him and always think of him first when it comes to toys hehe <3 also?? this was supposed to be just a quick lil blurb but the adhd medication got me completely carried away..... hope you enjoy >:-)

"There you go baby— shhh," Ransom's voice is the softest, sweetest thing you've ever heard as his gentle fingers spread the yummy-scented cream all over your poor little button. Your legs twitch against the ropes holding you open and spread wide for your daddy. Though you're all tied up in quite a punishing position, this is not a disciplinary session. Instead, the restraints are simply there for your safety, for your comfort. Ransom knows this is exactly what you need after such a grueling week of school and work; all he wants to do is let his pretty baby's mind melt away to nothing as he rewards her endlessly for all the hard work she's been doing.

"Mmm... Daddy," you mumble. Ransom hums along with you as he rolls your tiny knot of nerves between his fingers, the effects of the special cream not taking long at all to be felt. "Th-thank you Daddy, feels so nice, feels—"

"Shhh— you're welcome, baby," the dark-haired man leans his head in to press a kiss against your forehead as he works your sensitive clit with his fingers. "You just let Daddy take care of you, hmm? Don't have to worry about a single thing, sunshine. Need to empty out that pretty little head of yours, s'not good for a tiny baby like you to be doin' so much thinkin'."

From the little pile of toys he has sitting next to you on the bed, he grabs your favorite pump next. It's a simple device with a round plastic cup for your clit, connected to a small bulb that allows your daddy to work the suction manually. As Ransom uses his fingers to spread you out gently, fitting the toy into its place, your toes curl in excitement. "Need to get your sweet little button all puffy and ready for Daddy to play with, right baby?" he smiles as he sucks your poor clit up with a squeeze, earning an eager nod from you as he wiggles the pump carefully, making sure the seal is air-tight.

"Bet that feels nice— huh, princess?" he croons knowingly as he grabs the next toy: your pretty pink plug, custom-made with genuine Swarovski crystals embedded in the base. "Don't worry, angel. Gonna get it nice and slick for you, make sure nothing hurts for my pretty little girl." Eyeing your dripping folds, he hums in approval. "Such a good girl, getting so messy for me already."

Your mind floats safely through your tiny headspace as Ransom preps the plug with plenty of lubricant, earning a quiet whimper from you as he begins rubbing the blunted tip up against your puckered hole. "Easy baby, shhh," he soothes you once more, bringing one hand up to tap against the hard plastic encasing your clit as the other begins working the plug into you. He releases the pump before squeezing it again and again at a quick, teasing pace, your poor puffy button getting sucked up over and over by the tool.

Your breaths deepen, heart thumping faster and faster as your clit pulsates in pleasure, the sensation of the plug stretching you out in your most sensitive of places bringing you closer and closer to the edge in little time at all. Attentive as always, Ransom senses your growing arousal with ease. "Good girl, that's my sweet little y/n. That feel nice, baby? You like it when Daddy plays with your clit and plugs up your pretty little bottom? Poor little girl— so tight, aren't you?" he mocks pity, the heat in your tummy growing as he slides the plug in and out of your burning hole, letting it stretch you out as far as it can without quite giving you the satisfaction of inserting it fully to sit nicely in its intended place.

"P-please Daddy," you pout, bottom lip trembling as he toys with your ass, letting out a gasp as he sucks your needy button up fully again before plunging two thick fingers into your neglected cunt. "O-oh Daddy... thank you Daddy, I— please, please Daddy..." Ransom grins at the sound of your increasing desperation. The first orgasm is always his favorite; he loves dragging it out, watching as it creeps up slowly, then before either of you know it, all at once.

"There you go, babygirl. Just needed this pretty little pussy filled up, huh?" he sings, the pads of his fingers curling up against your tender ceiling as you grit your teeth, tears building in your eyes as you pass the point of no return.

"Please Daddy, I-I'm gonna— please," you heave.

"Go ahead, baby," Ransom murmurs, giving you a knowing nod as he works his hands faster, bringing you right to orgasm at his simple command, "cum for me. Theere," he hums, a satisfied look washing over his face as he witnesses you coming completely undone before him.

Clenching down against the plug and your daddy's fingers, you completely let go, gushing steadily against his ministrations. Your climax is long, steady, and intense, pathetic whimpers sputtering out of you once you finally begin to drift back down to earth. Ransom carries you through it with care, working your most sensitive places as long as he can to give you as pleasurable of an orgasm as possible. Only when you're finally winding down does he slow, bringing his drenched fingers up to his lips to taste your sweet juices.

"So good for me, angel," his voice is low, tender as he finally pushes the plug in fully, watching as it nestles itself perfectly into place against your trembling rosebud. Free hand coming up to rub your tummy gently, he coos as it still spasms lightly from your euphoric high. "So proud of you, sweetheart. Did so well for Daddy, that feel good?"

"Mhmm," you hum, gazing at him through half-closed lids as you soak in the dreamy waves of pleasure still coursing through your veins. "So good, thank you Daddy," you mewl sweetly.

"You're so welcome, little one. Now let's see here," he muses, bringing his attention back up to your clit as it sits swollen in its clear cage. "Oh my," he breathes as he lets it out of the pump with a pop, the magic workings of the device and the cream visible as the little bundle of nerves now sits completely exposed and hardened, just begging to be loved on. "So puffy, baby. Look at you," he enthuses, placing a hand behind your head to bring it forward, forcing you to look at your poor, abused sex.

"S-so puffy," you agree, eyes widening as he reaches for the bottle of lube, gently dripping some down against the knot of flesh. The sensation of the cool liquid hitting your most sensitive spot brings tears to your eyes once more.

"Think I've bullied your poor little button enough, huh?" he frowns as he grabs a small, cordless wand from beside you— another favorite. "Think it deserves some relief. What do you say, princess?"

"Y-yes Daddy, please Daddy," you drool as you rest your head back against the pillows once more, the sound of the wand switching on already overwhelming you with anticipation.

Pressing three fingers into your messy heat this time, Ransom gives no warning before bringing the head of the wand down to begin working over your clit. You jolt at the intensity, earning a light chuckle from the dark-haired man as he begins pumping his digits in and out of you once more, singing, "There, that's what you needed, isn't it? Just needed Daddy to tie you down and let you cum? How long d'you think you'll last this time, sweetheart?" he wonders aloud.

But you're already teetering towards the edge again, the wand being swirled over your throbbing clit in slick, steady circles enough to make your mind go completely numb. And that's all Ransom wants; that's all he's wanted from the beginning: to reduce you down to nothing but whimpers and moans, a drippy, darling mess at the mercy of his skilled hands. "Please... please..." Your vocabulary is shrinking by the second as his fingers speed up against your burning walls.

"You don't have to beg, baby. You can cum, can cum as many times as you need. Daddy's gonna take care of you, sunshine," he promises as you reach your second high, tears and spit dribbling down your chin as you squirt out against your daddy's hands once more. He praises you softly and sweetly, letting you ride out your orgasm for as long as you can. Your juices crackle against the hum of the vibrator as you squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding in your throat as you wait seconds, minutes, what feels like forever for the ripples of pleasure to finally subside.

"Hmmph... Daddy..." your own voice sounds miles away from you as you stay in your daze, head entirely somewhere else as you feel the wand being run up and down your soaked slit.

"Daddy's here, angel. Doin' so good for me— let's see if you can give me another one, hm?"

quietly tagging @onsunnyside in dis bc. dis is puff puff behavior fr.

#eun's writing #dreamy undoing #eun's blurb nights #april ‘23 blurb night #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #daddy!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale blurb #ransom drysdale headcanon #ransom drysdale drabble #knives out #knives out fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you

[ronearoundblindly]

The Root Of All Ransom (Finale)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom figures out how to undo his disinheritance.

Warnings for language (I'm never kidding about how many f-bombs this boy drops), smut (blowjob, p in v sex that is consensually unprotected, general smuttery), vague contemplations of murder but we ain't going the canon route. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist. This is not your story!

I have somehow managed to put Ransom Drysdale deep in his feels. This is only OOC if you haven't read up to this point, but we do end on a soft!Ransom note. WC 6954 (oh my fucking wat???)

Ransom huffs out a foggy breath in the night air, cold in more ways than one. All the windows glow from the mansion, yet it looks completely different in light of what Harlan’s done.

Thrombey Manor is his birthright. He doesn’t love the architecture or the eccentric layout. He hates the furniture. He’s never really enjoyed anything about the place. It’s the polar opposite of his own house, but it was his in a way, part of his status, part of his baseline of existence. He’s not prepared for any other eventuality. Ransom built his life on a perfectly stable bridge that some idiot just blew up with C4.

No, no, not some idiot. His own family. The only member of his family he would think could never do this to him. Fuck Harlan.

Ran’s been flying high on a lie, and the magic money carpet’s been ripped away.

He has one lifeline, one option he’s grasping onto.

If he can manage this, nothing will change. He won’t lose the allowance. He won’t lose you. You’ll never know how unworthy he is. He can just have everything and never speak of this again.

Harlan. Marta. Inheritance. Killing two birds with one liquid stone.

Ran could do it. He will do it, but you cannot know. He can’t have you around. He has to push, to start giving you a safe distance, to leave you plausible deniability. If you suspect, you’ll leave him anyway. 

If he succeeds, worst case? He’s rich and alone. If he does nothing? He’ll be poor and alone.

One of those scenarios used to be acceptable, but not now, not anymore.

Pushing you away tonight might be the last time you ever look at him without pity, and he’s not ready for how heavy that sits in his roiling gut. He has to though. He has to make you leave, if only for the rest of the night—but it might be forever, his brain reminds him. Fucker. It’s not like Ran’s pleasant to be around. Getting away from him shouldn’t be a hard sell.

When you emerge from the house, however, what he hoped would sound sharp and dismissive sounds oddly open-ended.

“You could just walk from here,” he tries wishfully.

True to form, beautiful, pissed-off you sidesteps his expectations.

You take his coat, your coat, and the Birkin to the passenger’s side with a ferocious look.

“Get in the car,” you manage through tight lips.

Fuck. He misses you already. He hasn’t given up. He won’t, but his center of gravity is gone. He’s reeling from this.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale revolves around money.

His whole life he has stretched wide and greedy limbs to capture numbered, green rays of meaning. He hasn’t only lost the light of his sun now. No. Nuclear winter has just stripped him bare and knocked him on his ass. Ran cannot articulate all the reasons he’s so upset.

He values you and him together for relatively selfish reasons. From all he’s seen, you don’t need any more people in your life that exist so far below you. You don’t need ‘help.’ You need an equal, a free and independent equal. Ran isn’t even fucking close anymore.

With a stroke of a pen, he’s now dependent. It’s pathetic. If he stays without even the means to be your not-quite-equal, then he’s everything he hates. He’ll be clingy. He’ll be needy. He’ll be in the way. He’ll finally do it; he will annoy you.

He will bore you.

What a fucking world.

You snap him out of his dashboard stare.

“Do you want to talk about it now or at home?”

“Neither,” he quips easily. “I’ll drop you at the Carlyle’s.”

His eye twitches at his faux pas. You don’t have to correct him. He knows it’s your place, your name, your property, and your right to claim. He doesn’t need reminding.

His key twists in the ignition just as your hand comes up to his shoulder.

He can’t even glare at you properly because a tap rings off his window pane. Both of you jump in alarm because night fell hours ago. Who sneaks up on a car in the fucking dark?

Ran’s father is fucking who. Of course. The window peels down, and Ransom feels as if the last seconds of his life are draining away after the plug’s been pulled.

“Trouble in paradise, you two?” Dick asks with cheeky concern.

“No, Mister Drysdale,” you say politely, no hint of insincerity in your smile.

“Richard, please, honey. You’re practically family.”

Smug asshole, do NOT call her ‘honey.’

“Eat shit,” Ransom mutters overly loud again, but your sudden slow grip on his kneecap tells him to behave. Ol’ Dick has no right to call you ‘honey’ though. Ran’s not even sure what he’s allowed to call you, and he’s pissed, sure. He’s…something else, too; he’s obedient beneath your hand.

Richard ignores Ran’s attitude. “Listen, son, I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, your mother and I will always love you. In case…ya know, in case you ever doubted, and…well, we’re family. We stick together.” He even gives Ran a squeeze on the shoulder for emphasis.

Ransom has no fucking clue what his father intends with that entirely useless statement but doesn’t fucking care. “You know what?” He’s about to lunge out the window to choke that fucking prick. “Definitely eat shit.”

Your grip tightens, and Ran���s insides clench, knowing he toes a line.

“We should really go,” you add with a now painful, strained civility.

“Okay, you crazy kids,” Richard pats his heavy hand on the door frame. “Thanks for coming to the party and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, Richard.”

Ransom rolls the window back up without looking at you. That sure as shit was not his father’s reaction to Harlan throwing millions at Marta fucking Candelabra. He can’t be near these people anymore, so Ran slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway, and scattering gravel in his wake.

Your sigh releases with the pressure on his knee. “I suspect it’s about his affair.”

As if that narrows it down. “Which one?”

“The first one as far as your grandpa knows,” you snort, “which hopefully Linda buys too from the way you’ve talked about it. Jesus, really? Slow down!”

Ran doesn’t want to slow down. The car is finally catching up to his racing thoughts and a plan coalescing. If Harlan knows about Richard’s affair, then his mother will absolutely divorce him, leaving Dick with nothing—and if you know that Harlan knows about it then—

“Hugh—” the hand has slid from his knee to his crotch, the heel of your palm gently digging into the stiff fabric of his jeans “—we should have taken care of you before…”

Fuck, that feels good.

You’re right, of course. Ran really should have planned a few minutes of privacy for you both to get off after the airport. Not that it’d have to be private for him (parking lot, terminal, or tarmac—he wouldn’t fucking care), but the thought flashes in his mind like the bright spots behind his eyelids that he might not get to fuck you again. That’s profoundly upsetting, and your grip on the outline of his swelling cock is profoundly distracting.

He swats at your arm, blood rushing to his tension-white knuckles only for a second, but you simply swivel in the seat to change hands, dragging down his zipper.

“Sweetheart“ slips out. Is he allowed to say that anymore? He should still act normal, right? Except he’s been a raging mess for a quarter-hour already and oh fuck. “What are you…”

Ran’s been wrong this whole time: you are a road head bitch.

He’s so taken aback by your spit-slicked lips cooly brushing the head of him that he nearly elbows your spine. The car swerves slightly as he strains to collect himself, to think of just one other thing instead of your fucking tongue sliding down his length to tease at his still-covered balls and—

Mother of fucking mercy, he has to pull over.

Only by some miracle, some blessed (or horrible) gap in his distraction, is he able to consciously choose parking off the lane just beyond the menagerie elephant statue because, otherwise, that pervy-ass groundskeeper could relive his long-forgotten past of grainy porn. Because that’s what this is turning into. Pornographic is the only way to describe the choked grunt Ran finally lets out as he slams on the brake and you snap the car into park just to get the gear shift out of your way.

“I’m only here three days,” you say around a mouthful of cock, bobbing a few more times before switching to your hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it by being fucking baby.”

“I’m not—fuck—“ he’s not expecting you to climb over him in the cramped car “—you don’t understand.”

“So you don’t want me right now?”

He shakes his head furiously, half in hope of collecting genuine thought, half in desperation for you to continue.

Space is so limited between Ran’s body and the steering column that your bent knees pin his arms to the door and the console. It should hurt but fuck if he’s gonna say anything while he watches you peel your panties to the side and line yourself up. 

“Gah, you just—“ he pants as his heart rate spikes. Instead of putting him in you, Ran’s paralyzed to stop two of your fingers from sinking into your soaked pussy. You’re drooling for him, mouth and cunt, and goddamn, he is so torn between pounding you into next week or tossing you out of the car to get on with his plan.

It’s about an 80/20 split in favor of fucking you.

And then he thinks…yeah, he could definitely get off and get you to the Carlyle’s—your place—in time to sneak back. So he just lets go, shoving his face forward to capture your lips, enjoying the wet sounds as you prep for him, and eating up your moans and curses. He knows you’re purposefully dragging your knuckles against his dick as you bring them out with each stroke. Why are you so fucking hot? Why can’t he just have this without Harlan’s help? 

He’s dependent.

Ran realizes he always was, but he fucking hates it.

Removing your fingers makes the bunched-up dress pool over your hips and graze his raging erection. Great, now your spit and his precum are smeared all over your clothes. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. Normally, that would be even hotter. Now, Ran wonders how much that damn thing costs because he never even looked; he just knew it suited you.

A steady grip at his base and suddenly Ran can’t wonder about any fucking thing under the sun. Your walls welcome him inch by inch like he’s goddamn worthy of that silky squeeze, but he can’t say shit. All he can manage is craning his neck forward to mouth over your nearest breast, arms still pinned. Fuck it. More fluids on the dress. If you don’t care, he doesn’t care. Maybe. Maybe he’ll just care later. Maybe he’ll learn to look at the cost of things. Maybe he won’t have to when he succeeds at fixing this dumpster fire of a situation.

His teeth graze against a barely felt but hard-peaked nipple, and you gasp out another moan. You have to shift to wedge your leg down by his side and repeat with the other one. One of his forearms is tingling, asleep, so he switches his mouth around and uses the functioning arm to play.

You’re moving so slow, too slow.

“You fucking love to mess with me,” Ran growls, all but biting through the layers before yanking at the neckline, savoring the plush skin he exposes. “Love fucking me,” he mutters again.

“Yeah, baby, why do you think that is?” You use the name so condescendingly and roll your hips so deliberately that Ransom bites back a ‘fuck you,’ instead forcing out a strangled whine. You just drag yourself up and down until he answers, pushing his t-shirt and an errant tail of his cardigan out of the way. Your fingers gently scratch the flat plain of his abs.

“Say it.”

He knows the answer. He’s known for a while, but that’s not something Ran’s ever gonna be ready for. It’s just already the truth.

It’s as soft as a hum against your skin.

“Say it, Hugh. Tell me why.”

He can tell by how you’re getting sloppier with your movement, by how hard you grind forward against him, that you’re close.

“Because you love me.” Ran winces at how desperate he sounds. It’s almost a cry, but he can’t really resist repeating it. “You love me.”

Your hands bury in his hair, and he’s literally covered in you while trapped in this fucking steam room of a car. He can’t control anything he’s doing.

“You love me,” he says again.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

You’re fluttering around his cock like a dream, shouting encouragement, and it just slips out.

“I love you.”

He has no idea if you even hear him because you come so hard that your back bends, slamming you against the steering wheel.

The horn blares in the quiet woods.

You wait for him to yank you forward and erupt into sated giggles while Ran is a whole different kind of paralyzed, hiding his face in your chest for as long as you’re simmering without care.

Your fingers card through sweaty hair, your heartbeat slowing more than his does.

“Think you need this,” you say in a breathy whisper. You pull away to cradle his face.

He’s terrified you’re gonna ask. You’re gonna want him to say it again, he thinks, and Ran’s not sure he can with your eyes boring into his, knowing what he knows, being what he is until the will is void.

“I want you to come, Hugh.” Your thumb traces across his bottom lip, gaze following before it flickers back up.

You sound so fucking innocent while your slick is smeared all over his low belly and seeping through his underwear. His boxers are kinda in the way but kinda immovable while in such cramped quarters. Pushed aside, they hinder only as much as your bunched-up panties do. Easy enough to live with.

You keep staring expectantly.

“Do you want me to stop—“ fuck NO “—or will you give me what I want?”

Ran’s whole chest clenches, and it’s only because he slams his mouth to yours that you can’t see his eyes roll in fucking ecstasy. Perfect. You’re goddamn perfect. He couldn’t deny you anything much less this, and he knows that if this is the last time, he has to take advantage.

Sliding down slightly on the seat (because everything operates in centimeters at most this close), he takes two giant handfuls of your ass and spreads you, lifting so he can thrust his hips up at a brutal pace. He doesn’t fucking care if his knees bang against unyielding metal. He doesn’t care that a vein in his neck might snap from strain. He just needs this one thing, and then he’ll let it go. He’ll be ready for whatever outcome Harlan’s death triggers.

Because Ransom needs money. He had money long before he had you. It’s what he needs the most in life. He loves money.

If losing you is what it takes to keep the money…

That’s the thought he can’t finish as control of the urge to come slips from his bruising fingers. His desire for his status quo is faltering. His equilibrium’s changed.

He does love money. He does.

Now, to Ran's surprise, he loves you, and he has no fucking clue how to love both. He doesn’t know if he can keep both.

But friction is friction. He’s surrounded by the feel and sound and smell of sex. It’s familiar and more than a little haunting to him if this is the last time, but Ran crests that mountain before any coherent thoughts form. He can’t trust himself to speak. He might repeat what he never should have said aloud.

The groan when he empties himself inside you is almost pained, swallowed immediately by your adoring and hungry kiss. He’s sweat straight through his t-shirt and his jeans are a fucking mess. Your dress is damp, stained, and wrinkled. You’re practically bonded to the leather seat, but he just absently runs the back of his fingers up and down your thighs while he comes down.

When you release his mouth, your arms settle across his shoulders, and he buries his face in your chest again, hiding, relishing, stalling.

Shit, he’s gonna miss this.

After a minute, you rest your forehead against his and lift your hips until his limp dick slides out of you. Through half-closed eyes Ran watches you bite your bottom lip, gnaw on it like he wants to, like he moves to—

“Is this about the will?”

Ran freezes.

“Did—Harlan told you, didn’t he?”

“WHAT THE SHIT.” Ran’s rage explodes, heaving you off of him and into the passenger’s seat. “YOU FUCKING KNEW?!”

He shoves himself back in his pants and scrambles for the damn zipper.

“Ransom, it’s fine. He just—“

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you warn me? Jesus FUCK.” He’s unlatched and kicked the door open before you even get a word out.

“Harlan is my friend and—“

But he slams it shut, leaving your words muffled while Ran fumes in damp fucking clothes in the frigid air.

His fists almost—almost—pound on the hood of his car as he bites out, “I could have killed him.” 

Ran’s pacing toward the tree line when you finally shuffle from the beamer, pulling your dress back into place.

“Harlan’s my friend and he asked me in confidence if it made sense.”

“I’m sorry, he asked you? As in, my grandfather might not have done this if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus.”

“It wasn’t just about you.”

“It makes sense to leave me destitute? And you knew! You lying bitch,” he growls, immediately wishing the word hadn’t popped out, clawing at his scalp in a punishing attempt to think. “You watched me throw all that fucking money away and didn’t think I deserved to know?!“

“I’ve met you. Why would you listen to me about how to spend your money? That isn’t something you do, Ransom.”

“That’s not the point!” And stop calling me fucking ‘Ransom.’ “I can handle myself.”

“Then I guess your answer is ‘that’s how you spent the money,’ by choice.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. You lied to me. You’re the one who didn’t trust me.”

Your stalk forward in the dry leaves, stopping just outside of arm’s length away. “What the hell did I just say in there, huh? I love you. I said I love you, then you go and call me a bitch, so who’s the liar between us, huh? Who’s got trust issues?”

Ran’s face scrunches in distain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Guess,” you spit back easily. 

Well, he isn’t fucking saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck this. This is the worst-case scenario: poor and alone because if you know, he can never get away with his plan.

“Why do you always do that?” he growls with a venom that poisons no one but himself. “Why the fuck are you here then?” Why are you with him?

“I’m here to support my piece of shit boyfriend at a piece of shit family event because Hugh asked me to.”

Nope. The right name is wrong. It sounds much worse than he expected.

Ran doesn’t know what to do with all this sick energy churning in his gut except burn through it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his life.

“There it is. There’s the truth,” he yells, leaning into your face. “I know it. You know it. This isn’t going to work. We’re not the fucking same. We’re not even close—“

“I don’t want someone the same as me.”

“I’m a useless—”

“Ran.” Your hands fly to gently land on his face.

“—talentless—“

“Seriously, please.”

“—sack of shit and you—“

“HUGH!” The grip at his jaw slips as he jerks back.

Ran tenses, shoving his chilled fingers into his jean pockets, pushing the wet material in front away from his crotch. He goes awkwardly quiet.

Yelling. He remembers the yelling. He’s been comfortable with yelling for longer than he’s been comfortable with affection.

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” You cross your arms over you chest and shiver. “This. This bullshit is why I didn’t tell you, but so what? You don’t have your own money. How do you think Harlan and I started out?”

He gives a look that shouts back everything he can’t put into words.

“You’re not useless or talentless. You’re entitled. That’s all, and you can change that state of being pretty fucking easily.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? Be a houseboy who eats you out once a week?”

“A week? Well, I hope I pay better than that.”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he grouches.

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that. “You started these jokes!”

“You don’t have to rub it in—”

“—just rub it out, huh?”

He doesn’t want to laugh. It’s not funny. His fate isn’t a laughing matter, but like everything else tonight, he fucking fails. A smile twitches at his lips.

“Ok, asshole, you want to be useful? How ‘bout driving us home? I’m freezing.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a flinging arm.

“If you don’t get in this damn car, you will be helping me balance to pee in those woods.”

“Fucking gross,” Ran whines.

“Yeah, well, your ability to self-access is appalling too,” you jovially clap back, “but we’re working with what we’ve got.”

Fair.

Savage but fair.

He frowns and follows you into the car.

You talk his ear off on the way to his house, but he isn’t in the least bit annoyed. He’s engrossed. It’s all a type of flattery Ransom can hardly fathom: honest praise.

“I was miserably alone before you.”

He wouldn’t have pegged that based on how he saw you at all those events, but now that he considers how you’ve opened up about your frustrations and the exhaustion of being the center of attention, it makes sense. Ransom takes attention away from you. He loves that shit. He doesn’t even care if it’s negative attention. Hide behind his broad back and shine that spotlight on him; he’s game.

“You know what people you pay to be around you—people who want something from you don’t do? Argue. No one has a real conversation. No one has an opinion contradictory to yours. No one calls you out on your shit. It’s so…”

“Boring,” he whispers without thinking.

There’s a long pause until you continue softly.

“No one calls me out on my shit except you, only you.“ 

Your hand finds his. Though your skin is cold, he’s warmed by the touch. 

“So no, I don’t think my money will change anything. If money—mine or yours—were going to change you, it would have done it by now. I mean, sure, you could stand to be less of a dick sometimes, but you don’t have to. I already…”

Your voice trails off, and Ran knows. That’s just it. You love him and he’s a dick, the poor asshole who understands what the feeling is, the one who can’t say it, not on purpose, not yet. The tectonic shift in his life’s framework leaves him uneasy. As wonderful as you are, as perfect as this has been, he has to start over.

He has to build himself up from scratch. He’s been transplanted to an alien planet that he doesn’t have the means to make hospitable. Money was his means to everything. Money provided for him. Money protected him. Money separated him from others.

He never had space for two in his now-demolished castle of selfishness.

“I thought I’d be with someone so different from you,” you laugh without heart. “I’m…glad I was wrong.”

All he can manage is a squeeze of your hand.

“But Hugh, you’re proud of my success, not fucking threatened by it. You let me work, but you also know when I need a break and won’t take one. You’re devoted without being smothering because you have your own damn life, things you want to do. You aren’t intimidated by all this shit in my stupid world or the money. You don’t give a fuck what other people say.”

That’s true.

“You make me laugh,” you say quietly, and though he can’t see your face in the dark of the road leading to his neighborhood, he hears your smile. “You asshole.”

As he turns into the driveway, he glances over and winks. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

He watches that throwaway statement melt you, and then he realizes why.

Ransom trying to do absolutely fucking anything is a big fucking deal, and he has tried. He simply has no idea where to go from here.

He turns off the beamer and makes no move to get out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Your hand releases his to glide up his arm and lace through his hair, lightly rubbing the base of his neck. “Help me,” you breathe.

“How the fuck would I help you?”

“Hugh,” you cock your head to the side, retracting both arms to brush your palms down the fabric of your (ruined) skirt, “you know damn well you’d like to control my whole wardrobe. You would do far better dressing me for all those functions than I do…and undressing me.”

He knows what you’re doing, but instead of smiling or laughing, he tightens his jaw and huffs. “Can I burn some of your—“ he does half air-quotes “—'wardrobe?'”

It’s so hideous. That one black dress you keep fucking wearing? No amount of dry cleaning will make that look new again. That’s getting flambéed.

You purse your lips. “Donate, but yes. I would consider that a huge help.”

“You’re serious.” Ran’s not sure whether he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yes. I am. Thank you for noticing.” You swivel to open the door. “Now, you can also help get my bag in while I use the restroom.”

The dance of readying for bed becomes you pointing out things you have now that you did not have before him. Taste being one of them, Ran thinks to himself. The important thing is he could say that to your face, but he’s strategically not pushing his luck tonight.

It’s true. Nearly every article of clothing and every toiletry now links back to his insistence that you have nice things that are for you, not just for life in general. You come before the rest of the world; you come before your work. That’s his gift. That’s what he’s good at, and you make it clear: you need him for that talent.

All of these nice things, all these reasons he seems good to you, and all this need for him have Ran feeling some sorta way when you crawl into his bed naked and reach to turn off the light.

He grabs your hand before you make it to the switch, forcing it back to the mattress, keeping you facedown. His heated breath and heavy body roll over you, teeth grazing your shoulder and moving slowly to your earlobe.

“You know what else I’m good for?”

His free hand slips between your thighs and finds what slick you couldn’t clean up. The knowledge that some of it is his cum still inside you makes Ran shudder. How would he ever have lived without this?

You sigh, your mouth falling open at the intrusion, and your eyelids flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you moan, high and quiet.

“That’s right, baby,” he hisses, mimicking your condescension from the car. Oh yeah, he’s gonna ruin more than that goddamn dress tonight.

He takes time to torture you with his fingers, his weight rendering you immobile. Ran sweeps falling hair out of your face with free reign to pepper open-mouthed kisses across the stretch of skin he’s claimed since that very first fuck.

You always knew what you wanted. He never thought you’d truly want him, certainly not for more than a day. After tonight, it’s inconceivable you want him still, yet here you are, burying your face in the sheets to muffle little cries as he humps your ass cheek to get harder and harder.

Good god, why do you want him? He fucked around, he yelled at you, he called you horrible names, he left you for weeks at a time in a foreign country alone, and yet you are here.

Then your words spring to mind. He argues with you. He has opinions. He makes you laugh. He treats you like the independent person you are. He treats you like your money doesn’t matter.

Because it didn’t to him.

Ransom realizes now that you treat him as if his money didn’t matter because it doesn’t to you. Nothing changed when you knew he wouldn’t have it anymore. Not a single thing. Somewhere over the last months, Harlan told you his plan, and the only perceptible difference to Ran was you falling in love with him.

Because you love him. He is so grateful he’s almost angry. You could do better. He can give you better.

By the time you come on Ran’s fingers, he’s completely feral thinking about all those little ways you showed your feelings, all the ways you showed him kind touch is not weakness. You also showed him that touch doesn’t have to be weak to be kind. He can be rough with his feelings for you, intense as they are. He can sink his cock into you, practically screaming that he loves you, too, but the words aren’t spoken.

He presses a thick forearm across your back to keep you pinned. He spreads his legs to widen yours. He thrusts in possessive and messy movements. No words escape. His range of motion is limited this way, but he gets all of your glorious noises. They’ve become his favorite sleep track. It’s hard for him to rest without hearing your happy, panicked pleasure beforehand.

You make desperate fists in the sheets and arch your ass up higher. He sees the unnatural strain in your body, all for him, all so he can have just that fucking tiny bit more of you.

He can’t stay in this position forever though. You’ll never come again like this, and he wants to see your face. The car was dark, but the lamp is still on. He can watch you fall apart with him deep inside.

“Turn,” he orders, enjoying how dazed and shaky you are as you struggle to control your muscles.

You’re a sight. Erratic breaths hardly settle your gasps. Pliable and ruined. Torn to whimpering pieces and stitched back together only to be split apart again.

He drinks in his handiwork, climbing slowly between your legs, delicately helping to cross your heels at his ass, and sinking back into your heat slowly, so slowly, like your teasing in the car.

“Hugh,” you mutter, and fuck, he has never heard you beg.

Ransom has always loved sex, but this is different. He meets your glazed eyes with floundering blue depths and wonders why he can’t just enjoy it as basic sex anymore.

He’s always loved money, too, and although he doesn’t want to take it from you, Ran feels the weight of your charity. Money was his sun, his whole world, but it was not enough. You provide more, warmth that lets him spread out in contentment, light that keeps him from withering.

Money doesn’t need his love; it’s indifferent.

You, on the other hand, you are fucking radiant, glowing and hot with his arm tucked beneath your shoulders to grab at your hairline. He makes you look at him. Your fingernails scratch at his back while your hips grind together.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles, nose almost touching yours. “Come on, sweetheart—“ Ran drops to lave kisses down your bared throat “—one more for me.”

This time, you have no words, only grunting uh and hng as he speeds up. Your noises get higher. Ran gets rougher, a brutal rhythm for a brutal realization.

He can’t hold back when he sees you like this; he’s gonna say it.

He gets close, so very close to breaking, but you fall first.

“Please—ah.”

You fucking writhe beneath him, your whole body spasming like your silky pussy ripples over the sensitive skin of his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl.”

He has to chance meeting your eyes because he wants to see you unravel again. Ran always does whatever he wants.

He slows his hips to intermittent thrusts that sizzle your nerves over and over, pulling his arm out from under you to lift your chin. You’re open for him in every sense of the word, and he is fucked in every possible way.

He’s an amoeba of a man staring evolution in the face.

You’re his. It’s clear in the light that he owns you. He’s earned you, or at least, he’s trying to. That’s a big deal for Ransom Drysdale.

Quivering, your mouth hanging open, his thumb rolling over your swollen bottom lip, he gets one word.

“Daddy.”

Barely a whisper, partly a question, but mostly an invitation. He slides his thumb up into your mouth, only letting you suck on it for a moment before it drags out.

Ran never thought you’d ever say that. He never imagined you’d beg either. You’ve always known what you want and taken it. You have never needed anything from him.

“Please,” you say again, holding your mouth wider still.

Shit. He throbs at the prospect, and he’s too far gone to deny you this. He plants one small peck on your jaw before pulling out and clambering over your hips and chest.

“Ah fuck,” he moans when you suck on one of his balls, stroking him with a smooth and firm grip. “Love y—love your mouth…so much.”

Ran leans against his headboard, hand clamped over his trap in a desperate attempt not to blabber, but you continue. You’re in tune with when he’s ready, when you’ve taken the teasing far enough and he needs to come. His hips stutter to shove himself just a little farther down your throat. He collects his wits only enough not to choke you, muffling a cry.

You’re gentle with him as he loses his absolute shit trying to keep it together, thighs shaking, breath hindered, biting the fuck out of his hand.

“Sorry, I…” he tries.

“I…I—“ he tries again.

He just can’t fucking do it.

Ran digs his palms so hard into his eyes he sees stars. His chest is tight like it’ll explode any second. The relief of orgasm has evaporated instantly, and he just really fucking can’t.

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, shifting up onto your kneels behind him, “it’s okay.” Your warm arms encircle his chest, over one shoulder and under the other, and you pull his own pliable and ruined body toward you.

He collapses back on his heels, leaning against you.

“Hugh, it’s alright.” Your whisper makes his eyes sting. “I know.”

Ran raises his arms to hold your wrists. His head drops to kiss the back of your hand. He still stays silent.

“I know…”

Your bare legs stretch across his lap, and Ransom lets the hand warmed by his mug grasp your ankle gently. You’re off in your own mind, staring out the window of his living room, worrying your bottom lip. He watches while you don’t notice.

Ran never particularly liked the unknown, and after Harlan’s shit last night, he’s off surprises for a fucking lifetime. This, however, this with you, sitting in comfortable quiet, makes him feel perfectly at ease with an unsure future.

For someone so fascinating to him, you’re so normal.

Sure, you’re beauty trumps the view outside, you’re dedicated to your work, and you’re smart enough to run circles around anyone, but…

You’re just you, sitting with a hot drink on his couch in the morning, wearing one of his sweaters again. Could be a sixty-dollar sweater from a thrift shop—or six cents for all Ran knows about secondhand sales—or the six-hundred-dollar one that he stoopidly bought three weeks ago; it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing that matters to him now is who wears it. That garment means nothing without you in it.

You sip at your tea, and he follows, staring at you staring at the world.

You two spoke more about it last night in the dark about everything but that one little phrase that’s eating him alive, a tangled mess of yourselves and the sheets. Nothing has to change except where the money comes from. Ran gets what he’s wanted all along: control over your wardrobe and, essentially, your entire presentation to that world you’re staring out into. He is not, however, permitted to burn your favorite Little Black Dress, but for fuck’s sake he’ll get all of its seams checked and the damn thing refitted. He’s hoping if he makes enough fuss, you’ll choose to toss it just to shut him up.

Fucking rules. Ran hates rules. If you kept standards on par with your New Money maybe he’d follow your rules. He’ll get you in the good stuff: the good house with good furniture, the good clothing with good lingerie beneath, right down to the good wash and lotion.

You can keep your perfume. He likes your perfume.

Yes, he’ll get you into what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and all that implies. Ransom always gets what he wants…because you let him.

It’s remarkable what you let him fucking do, too.

He slides his hand from your ankle to your knee, knocking you out of your reverie just in time for his phone to buzz.

He holds your legs to him while sneaking a glance at the screen. Linda. Fuck no, he’s not answering that. It’s not Sunday and he’s not ditching anything. Fucking wait. Fucking choke for all he cares.

Ran instead sets his nearly empty mug down beside your two phones on the coffee table and curls up in your corner of couch. You open your arms to tuck him into your chest, and sure, it’s cutesy and gross in a way that should make Ran want to gag, but who fucking cares when he’s this comfortable. He plants a kiss right on your nipple through the knit for fun, feeling you shiver, then listens to your heart.

His phone vibrates again, dancing closer to the stoneware he just put down.

His mother’s persistence is as admirable as it is annoying. Predictably, Ran’s bored by her usual shit and ignores it again.

Instead of pushing up his sweater to wrap an arm around your waist though, he shoves his now chilly fingers between your hot thighs and sighs. His ear rings with the airy sound of your laugh through flesh.

Then your phone dings, and he just fucking knows it’s her. His groaned protest goes unheeded as you swap your mug for the device and bring it to you.

Ran snorts, and you smooth your free hand over his hair.

“Hello—“ there are harsh but restrained mumbles but he can’t make out the words “—Linda, why on Earth would I be with a man the night he yelled at me like that?”

Because you love him, Ran thinks, but he hears garbled disappointment from the other end.

“And after how your brother and his wife acted—” more rushed excuses “—I don’t have time to go around looking for your adult baby. I have work to do and a plane to catch.” There’s obvious desperation in Linda’s tone, but you don’t care. “Goodbye.”

You let your phone drop to the rug, carding fingers through his hair before finishing with little scratches. Your nonchalance is still pure honesty. You wouldn’t waste time on him, not if you didn’t want him, and you did not let him speak to you that way for more than three sentences because you knew exactly how to shut him up.

“Vicious little bitch,” you mutter.

And…in all your perfect, honest, niceness, you called his mother a bitch—not to her face but you’ll get there, Ran’s sure.

He fucking loves you. He is really so fucking in love with you that it’s fucking gross. He’s disgusted and doesn’t fucking care.

After a big sigh, your hand finds his between your legs and moves it to cup your sex. “Where were we?”

Ransom shifts up over you at the same time as you slide beneath him on the buttery leather cushions. His wildly true and blue eyes meet yours with stern sincerity.

He’s looking at everything he ever wanted, and it’s not money. There are all sorts of things he can use to survive, loads of things he can replace, an infinite amount to take, but only one you, only one complete package. Not a thing. Not replaceable. Finite. Earned. New. Fascinating. Teasing. Messy. Sexy. A total hardass badass with a great ass.

Ran lays his hand heavier on that thin layer of silk, possession laced in the caress, and the words just flow right out.

“Marry me.”

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Oh my god, gang, I can't believe I fucking did it. Truly, this fic has been one of the craziest things I've ever attempted, and honestly, I'm so damn proud. I'm proud that I wrote it, I'm proud that it's over, and I'm proud of whatever reception it gets. I murdered my soul for this and am delighted. Thank you all so much for reading!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff

[jtargaryen18]

How I Disappeared...

How I Disappeared

Masterlist

Words: 4.5k

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only Warnings: Dark fic. Torture, violence, references to murder, explicit sex, non-con, oral (fr), illegal use of mustache, kidnapping, gore. Relationships: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: You arrived early for your meeting with Ransom Drysdale about a job in publishing. You really shouldn't have...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The closet door you were cowering behind didn’t do much to muffle the screams of the man they’d been torturing for nearly an hour. There was nothing you could do for whoever they had strapped to the chair in Ransom Drysdale’s posh office.

What the hell is happening?

They’d removed several of the man’s teeth with a rusty pair of pliers as he’d emitted a macabre chorus of pain-filled cries. The last time you dared peer out the slightly opened door, you were horrified to see the car battery. There were jumper cables clamped to the man’s face, burning him until he screamed. You could smell the searing flesh. Those screams become gurgles while he fought hard not to answer the man’s questions.

But eventually, he did answer the questions to make the pain stop.

Your heart raced in your chest. You had to be quiet. It was the only shot you had of getting out of this.

The last peek you took, showed you the poor man’s lead tormentor. A tall, imposing man wearing a polo shirt in shades of mustard and tan. The gray slacks and expensive shoes hinted that he might be someone important. The gold of his pinky ring winked in the light as he moved around the chair, removing the metal clamps from the man’s ruined face.

The tormentor caressed the man’s face with his hand, a gentle gesture.

Whoever he was, you would have found him oddly attractive anywhere else but here. Everything about him from his perfectly trimmed mustache to the precise styling of his hair told you he was methodical, maybe manically so. Now that you could see him, you didn’t move. You stayed right there in the shadows, watching him grin at his tortured victim.

“See? It didn’t have to get this bad, did it?” the man reasoned, leaning down to get on eye level with him. “We all get what we want. I learned what I wanted to know. You now get out of this chair.”

At the subtle motion of his hand, armed men came into view, freeing the man from the chair and hauling him roughly out of it. As the group of them moved out of your view you heard three simple words.

“Make him dead.”

Adrenaline and fear had your body humming as you fought to stay still. Now wasn’t the time to get stupid. All you had to do was sit tight. Wait. Wait until it was quiet, and you didn’t hear anything anywhere around you. And when you were sure you were alone, you’d wait a little longer.

You were going to get out of there.

When the door flew opened, a scream ripped from your throat. You’d made yourself small in the darkness of the coat closet, shaking in mortal terror as you looked up to meet the blue-eyed gaze of the man who appeared to be in charge.

You might have thought his smile was authentic in different circumstances.

“What do we have here?” he asked in a way that led you to believe he had some idea. A spike of fear shot through your heart. “Somehow I didn’t think you made it out of the building.”

When he lunged at you, you scrambled away until your back met the closet wall. His grip on your wrist felt like a vice. With a hard jerk, he yanked you up off the floor. There was little you could do when he wrapped an arm around your waist and hauled you out of the closet.

The man was easily twice your size. You fought him but it did little good.

Yeah, you’d reached the part where you should probably be begging for your life. Tears were already filling your eyes and sliding down your face.

But he let you go. Let you stand there in the fading yellow light filtering through the office window. The man just watched you, slowly walking a circle around you and studying you like he was trying to decide something.

How to kill you most likely.

“You were here to meet Drysdale, right?” he asked with deceptive calm. There was an intensity about him that had you flinching. A blue-green storm brewing in this sharp eyes. It made you feel exposed and vulnerable. “You got here early.”

You nodded. You didn’t mean to get there almost an hour early. Just now, you really regretted it.

“Why?” he demanded.

“A j-job offer,” you replied.

The best thing you could do was cooperate, say as little as possible.

“And how did Drysdale run across a sweet thing like you?” Slowly, he walked another circle around you.

Dropping your gaze, you shrugged. “I worked for his mother’s real estate firm. He told me to make an appointment to see him about a job… in publishing.”

Ransom Drysdale was the CEO of one New York’s top publishing houses. You wanted to be an author. It was an offer you couldn’t pass up.

Were they after Ransom Drysdale then?

Your hopes sank as you realized it didn’t matter who the terrifying man stalking you was after. You’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see.

Coming to a stop next to you, the smirk was back.

“He wasn’t going to offer you a job, cupcake,” the man explained. “He was trying to fuck you.”

The stinging truth in those words had you dropping your gaze. Maybe. But given your dismal track record with men, you’d been prepared for such an offer. If men were just going to use you for sex, you may as well get something out it, right?

“Please.” You were blinking back tears. “I’ll tell you anything I know about him. I swear.”

The man chuckled, his perfect white teeth gleaming. “There’s nothing you can tell me about him that I don’t already know.”

Panic had your mind whirling. “I didn’t see anything. I promise.”

“Yes, you did.”

You were about to die.

“I won’t say anything,” you swore, pleading. “I don’t have anyone to t-tell.”

The man took a step closer. “No, you don’t, do you?”

That stopped you. He said your name quietly.

“Your mother is dead, your father was never in the picture,” the man explained. “You have no siblings or extended family. You go away? No one will miss you. You’ll be just another pretty face on a missing poster.”

You cried then. It was over. This was how you disappeared. It was the end.

“M-make it quick,” you whispered. “P-please.”

“Shhh,” he soothed, walking up and pulling you into a hug. The man was warm, solid. The scent he wore subtle. His hands smoothed over your back as you cried there against him, a lamb to the slaughter. “I’m not going to kill you just yet.”

Yet.

“I mean I could kill you and leave you here for him to find.” He spoke so casually like he wasn’t discussing your life. “And he might feel regret.”

Shaking, you just stood there with his arms around you as he impersonally decided your fate.

“But if I really wanted to piss him off, I’d take what he really wanted.”

You were all too afraid you knew what that meant.

Easing back and grinning at you like he was about to tell the best joke in the world, he said, “You’re not my usual type. You’re his. So pretty... But you are desperate, right?”

You were desperate to survive.

The man’s gaze raked over you, over the strappy summer dress you wore today. You could tell his mind was going a mile a minute.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered you.

You couldn’t have heard him correctly. What?

His brows shot up in his amusement. “You’re not commando under there, are you? If you are that will make the next part much easier.”

You shook your head in denial.

“Then take them off,” he told you. “Now.”

Humiliation burned you up from the inside as you quickly reached under your skirt and slid them down, dropping them to your ankles. They were easy to step out of with the flat sandals you wore.

You couldn’t meet his gaze once you’d done as he asked.

“Give them to me,” he ordered.

Was he serious?

“I’m waiting,” he prompted you, his jaw tightening when you chanced to look up.

Unless you wanted him to start pulling out your teeth, you decided it was in your best interest to do as he said.

Fishing them out of the floor, you held out the simple lilac-colored garment with a trembling hand.

That smirk pushed your anxiety higher as he took them from your grasp. You just stared at him when he brought them up, pressed his face into them. Breathing deeply, he took in the smell of you.

When his gaze was back on you, he nodded.

“You do smell good, cupcake.” The heat in those intent eyes had you taking a small step back. “Did Drysdale ever have you before today?”

“No,” you told him, horrified to be having this conversation.

“Not even a taste?”

You shook your head. Sure, the man had hovered over you when you worked for his mother. He tried to find excuses to touch you. He just never had much of an opportunity to do much else.

The laugh was unexpected. “Oh, this is just too fucking easy. But I’ll take it.”

Shoving your panties in the pocket of his slacks, he motioned towards the huge wooden desk that was the centerpiece of the office.

“Go to the desk, walk around to Drysdale’s chair,” he instructed. You felt his gaze as you did. “Now be a good girl and take a seat on that desk.”

Your anxiety was through the roof. You had no idea what he expected you to do. If you sat down there, you were turning your back on him. What if that made him angry? The blood-covered pliers were there on the desk not far from you. Your heart was pounding out your fear.

“No,” his voice was deceptively soft. “You’re not understanding the assignment.”

You heard his heavy steps as he walked around the desk to join you. His huge form blocked out the dying light from the setting sun. In his shadow you felt cold. You didn’t move as he pulled the enormous leather chair back and took a seat.

“Let me give you a point of reference then,” he explained, taking you in casually. You flinched when he grabbed your hips, moving you to sit directly in front of him. “We’ll pretend I’m Drysdale. And if I were Drysdale and you’d come to my little meeting, I’d sit you right here.”

You were now on top of a stack of important looking papers, contracts, and you fidgeted nervously. The man’s expression was pure disapproval.

“Now, pull up that skirt. Since I disrupted Drysdale’s meeting, I want to leave him something.”

A muscle at his jaw twitched when you didn’t spring into action. Fear had you doing what he wanted even though you were horrified to have your bare ass on top of that small stack of crisp, printed pages.

The man sighed before scooting his chair up, so he was closer to the desk. Then he did it again, until his knees touched your shins. You had nowhere to go when his hands clamped down on your knees. You froze, afraid of what he’d do next.

When he wrenched your thighs wide apart, hiking up the skirt of your dress to reveal your most private parts to him, you struggled in his hold. Tossing your ankles to the outside of the arms of the chair, he moved closer, between your thighs, one strong hand grabbing your throat. He got in your face.

“You’re going to do exactly what I say,” he told you. “Or I’ll duct tape your ass to that chair over there and I’ll treat you like I did the asshole who was just here. And I know you saw what I did to him.”

Oh, you had. You swallowed hard beneath his hand.

“Got it? When I tell you to move, you do it. When I tell you to scream my name, you scream.”

Your mouth opened before you realized you shouldn’t talk. The man just watched you in fascination.

“Oh, that’s right. I didn’t tell you my name,” he said after a moment. “It’s Lloyd. And I want to hear it when I say. Nice and loud.”

His other hand tightened over your bare knee before sliding up over the quivering flesh of your inner thigh. You froze as his fingers skimmed higher, into your folds without preamble. It took everything in you to stay in place while those digits explored you.

“This won’t do,” Lloyd told you, his face still close to yours. “All dry and scared.” The look of disapproval was back. His hand tightened around your throat. “I want this little pussy purring for me.”

Your thighs shook worse now. Was he serious?

“What do you like, cupcake?” Moving closer, his lips were by your ear. “Do you like fingers? Or do you like oral better? You can’t believe the tricks I can do with this mustache.”

Those hotly whispered words in your ear had you squirming in his hold. Despite the situation, your body was warming up to him. His fingers slid a little easier now.

Lloyd’s chuckle was dirty. “Yeah, all the girls like the stache.”

Using his hand on your neck, he pushed you down on the desk. He rose, looming over you as you lay on the desk now. His fingers were still sliding around your lower lips and your body was easing his way.

“A little above your head is the edge of the desk,” the man told you as he released your neck, lowering himself back into the chair. “Grab it and keep those hands there until I tell you that you can let go.”

What choice did you have? The movement had your back arching.

You felt his mustache first and you flinched. The brush of it over your outer lips was a duel between scratchy and soft. His lips were hot and wet as they nibbled at those petals, burning a path down towards your opening.

Sucking in a breath, your hands tightened on the edge of the desk. You’d had guys go down on you before, but it was usually fast and half-hearted. A bone they threw you until they could get their bone in you. To get to the main event. It had always been something awkward that you were in just as much of a hurry to get through as they were.

It didn’t help that you’d watched him straight up torture another man. You were terrified, had no idea what he’d do next. Every inch of you was tensed and trembling.

At first.

He wrapped his powerful arms around your thighs, holding them open for him as he just dove in. His mouth, that mustache, worked into your folds. You fought to keep quiet, to be still. But the only reason you managed the latter was the steely grip he had on your lower body.

His tongue danced around your clit for several seconds, making it throb and ache. From anticipation? Because the brush of that mustache was the only stimulation he gave it.

You didn’t know what he was doing but it was insane. The flicker of his tongue around your opening pulled breathy gasps from you. When it traced up to your clit again only to avoid it, you whined, and it was an embarrassingly loud sound. There was laughter in his blue eyes gazing up at you over your mound.

Your back arched more, your grip on the desk hurt. But you were afraid to let go. The important papers beneath your ass were no doubt ruined as the man destroyed you with his mouth and he was yet to touch you where you needed him most.

When his tongue finally slid over your clit you cried out, the sound filling the room. Lloyd laughed into your flesh as you felt a finger tracing around your opening. You realized you were fighting to get closer to his mouth, not away. You writhed on that desk as that finger penetrated you, the pad of it gently stroking your front wall in a way that took your breath.

What was he doing?

Lloyd alternated between brushing that mustache over your clit, the bristling just shy of painful. Then he’d teasing it with the tip of his tongue. The finger now was a sinful torment, sliding in and out slowly, soft strokes taking you apart on that desk.

Drunk on sensation, you squirmed, and your breath came fast. The pressure built fast, and you didn’t know if you’d survive it.

“Please,” you begged him. What were you going to do? You’d never had an orgasm with someone else present. Not once. Now you felt like you were going to explode.

His moan was a deep rumble in your quivering flesh. His tongue soothed you where his facial hair was just shy of abrasive. The rough pad of his finger tested the weeping wall within you until you were about to lose your mind. You didn’t know what he was doing, and you were ashamed that it felt amazing. Worse, you were afraid of how your body was going to react to his continued campaign.

“You’re just about there, aren’t you, cupcake?” Lloyd whispered into your soaked flesh.

You shook your head in denial. You didn’t know where was. But your heart was racing, and your thighs ached from his unrelenting grip.

“Please,” you whispered again.

“Give me what I want, and I will,” he whispered into you.

What did he want?

That finger was an unceasing torment that was zeroing in one small space inside you, stroking it with a delicacy you wouldn’t have expected from someone like him. When his tongue resumed teasing the center of your distress, soft wet strokes that you couldn’t get away from, you screamed. Whatever he was pushing you into couldn’t be avoided.

“Scream it,” he ordered.

“Lloyd!” You screamed as the gush of wetness literally burst from you. Lloyd backed away just enough to watch, delighted with what he saw. Raw currents of pleasure raced through you, wrecked you. His finger kept up those soft strokes, prolonging the wild, unfamiliar spiral he’d just sent you on.

“My little cupcake can squirt.” He waggled his eyebrows at you as he sucked you off his finger. “That’s a bonus.”

Horror at what you’d just done to Ransom Drysdale’s desk bled onto that fading pleasure. You would have covered your face in shame if you hadn’t been instructed not to let go of the desk until told.

“You’re going to be happy about that in a few seconds,” he told you as he rose from the chair, his hands going to the front of those dove gray slacks. He stopped only long enough to reach for a drawer to his left, fishing a small black condom pack out of it.

You stared at it not sure what surprised you more. That Ransom Drysdale just kept condoms in his office drawer or that Lloyd knew where they were.

Lloyd tore open the pack and got busy rolling it onto the swollen erection revealed when he opened those slacks. You shifted on the desk, the expensive paper sticking to your ass.

Those sharp blue eyes were on you in disapproval. “Don’t you dare let go,” he warned you. “I’ll fire your ass up if you do.”

You froze and you thought disappointment flashed in those blue eyes.

Then he started pushing into you with a determination that had you gasping. Sure, you’d had sex before, but Lloyd was stretching you quite a bit more than you were used to.

Sex with all the men who only managed to disappoint you in the end seemed quick and apologetic. There was nothing apologetic about the way Lloyd was claiming you. There was a dominance that had fear mixing with something primal within you, had you clenching around his intrusion.

Once he sank all the way in, Lloyd grabbed the front of your dress, and with a vicious yank, he pulled it down until the straps gave way. When he’d bared your breasts, his big hands covered them.

And then he started railing into you. His thrusts were swift and firm. They would have moved you up the desk if he weren’t holding you in place. With the position of your arms, your breasts were thrust up for his easy access.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered as he worked you hard, panting above you. “Drysdale would love this ride.”

Lloyd slid easily in and out of you on all the excitement he’d drawn from you. If the smirk he wore was any indication, he was enjoying it. His shoulders were wide enough to block out the last of the evening light, and your thighs were locked around his slim hips as they slammed into you over and over.

When he started speeding up, you hoped he was close. He leaned forward, the slightest movement, and then his pelvis was hitting your clit in such a way…

The wave of sensation rose fast, sweeping you away from a place where you were holding on until it was over to a place where you were about to fucking shatter. As Lloyd continued to fill you, fighting for his own end, you broke out in a sweat. Your core tightened as he plowed into you, your heart racing in your chest.

The orgasm hit you with the force of a hurricane. Your nipples were painful points under his hands as he rode you hard, crying out as he worked himself through his own release with strong thrusts that punched the air from your chest. Your cries blended with his. His frantic movements only served to prolong your release and you were panting and trembling as it went on and on.

Lloyd was looming over you as laid there, just trying to breathe. How the hell your hands were still over your head, gripping the edge of the desk, you had no idea.

His breath huffed over your damp breasts when he moved his hands, causing you to shiver. Those blue eyes moved over you with renewed interest.

“Let go,” his voice was strained. Smoothing back the longer locks at the top of his head, he studied you. “You’re a surprise, aren’t you, cupcake?”

You just watched in fear with no idea of what would happen now. Your arms crossed over you chest as you waited.

“You weren’t really part of the plan,” he muttered, pulling himself out of you, “but I admit I like the way this turned out.”

Pulling off the used condom, he dropped it off the side of the desk. Tucking himself back into his slacks, he took the time to tuck in his shirt, made it perfect.

“Now I’ve got to get you out of here.” Then he started chuckling as his gaze moved over you. “I didn’t give that a lot of thought,” he said as he tugged at the skirt of your ruined dress.

Lloyd walked over to the closet where he found you, searching its contents as you trembled on the desk. When he pulled out a huge camel-colored coat, you just stared.

“Up,” he ordered you as he approached the desk with that coat.

You scrambled to do his bidding, one arm trying to cover your breasts, the other trying to hold up the dress. He pulled the soaked papers away from your ass as you rose. To your horror, you saw the stack of papers was wet, the ink smeared.   

Lloyd wrapped the coat around you, and you were grateful for the coverage. But was this just a temporary reprieve? Was he taking you somewhere else to kill you then?

“Let’s go,” he said, grinning back at the mess you’d both made of Ransom Drysdale’s desk.

***

Ransom Drysdale marched into his office an hour later, frustrated with how his day had gone. The board meeting he’d called had run over. He hadn’t even counted on having to deal with his legal team today. And then finding out one of the men who’d been working for him was a plant?

He’d sent Lloyd to deal with that and asked him to make it quick. He was expecting you to be waiting for him when he finally did make it back. He’d been looking forward to that all week.

It didn’t take him long to realize that those well-laid plans had gone straight to hell. The blood stains on the chair pushed out where it wasn’t supposed to be? That was the first clue. Then he saw the bloody pliers on his desk.

Goddamn it, Lloyd. Did you have to do it here?

Where were you? Had you been warned off? Scared away?

Blowing out a sigh, he walked around the desk and that’s when the scent hit him. Sex.

The contracts left on his desk for review, contracts for one of his top authors, were ruined. It didn’t take him long to figure out why his desk in disarray. With a dry laugh, he shook his head.

His phone hummed in his pocket. When he fished it out, he saw it was Lloyd.

“What the fuck?” Ransom demanded, not letting him speak.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Lloyd purred into the phone. “Upset that I ate your cupcake?”

Peering over the edge of his desk into the wastebasket, he saw the condom.

“You did more than that, didn’t you?” Ransom asked bitterly. “Where is she?”

“I brought her back to your house,” Lloyd explained calmly. “Didn’t really have a choice. She was hiding in your closet while I dealt with our friend.”

While it wasn’t ideal having you see what Lloyd had likely done to the fucking plant, having you at his mercy? Now that was appealing.

“Where are you?” Ransom asked, grabbing ruined the stack of contracts and throwing them into the basket.

“Hanging out at your house until you get here,” he explained. “I need to catch you up on the situation today.”

Ransom nodded. There was that.

“Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said finally.

“And the girl?” Lloyd asked.

“Once we’re done talking business, we’ll have dinner.” Ransom grinned. “Then I’ll have you hold her down for me.”

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#Lloyd Hansen #Ransom Drysdale #Tag team from hell #dark fic #illegal mustache use #violence #kidnapping #non-con

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Take It Out On Me

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Wife!Reader

Summary: After Ransom finds out that he’s been cut from Harlan’s will, you offer to let him take out his frustrations on you. 

Warnings: SMUT, consensual somnophilia (reader leaves a note giving consent), some anal play, rough unprotected sex, facefucking, oral (male receiving), degrading language, mentions of murder. 

A/N: I just got around to watching Knives Out and Ransom totally stole the show for me. I’ve never been much of a Chris Evans girl until this movie. Now I am all in. Hope you enjoy lovelies!

“That’s why I smoke weed!” Fran finishes her story with an obnoxious laugh to which you simply force a smile and nod. As your eyes flick around the room you plot your escape. You suddenly spot Richard and Linda standing across the parlor looking bored. Surely they would offer some safety from this drag of a conversation. 

“Well, it’s always good to chat with you Fran. I’m gonna go bother my in laws for a few.” You add with a chuckle, trying to maintain the humor as you step away. The moment you do you can feel your face drop into a scowl. It would be an understatement to say that you didn’t enjoy spending time with your husband’s family. These were the most disingenuous people you had ever had the displeasure of spending time with. The only reason you put up pretenses was for the sake of your husband and even he didn’t like them all that much.

“Richard. Linda.” You greet them formally. As you do you extend a hand to them which they reluctantly take. It was no secret that they weren’t your number one fans. When Ransom brought you home to meet them it had been awkward to say the least. See, you didn’t come from money like Ransom did. Your family had always been poor. Therefore his parents felt you were “wrong” for him. Snobs. You thanked your lucky stars that Ransom didn’t give a shit what his family thought or else you might never have gotten married.

“How are things, Y/N?” Linda asked with false interest. Before you could answer her half hearted inquiry you were interrupted by the sound of your husband’s booming voice coming from the study. 

“Are you goddamn insane?” Everyone in the room stopped, turning in the direction of the yelling. Shortly after, the door to the study came flying open and you saw Ransom grab his coat and storm for the front door. He was out of the house before you could blink. 

“Well, thank you for a lovely party. Excuse me.” You said to them both before rushing to the front hallway, snatching your coat off the rack, and following your husband out of the house. When you stepped onto the porch Ransom was already in his Beemer, impatiently waiting. You ran down the front steps and flung the car door open, quickly fastening yourself into your seat as he sped out of the driveway. He drove way too fast, completely silent. It wasn’t difficult to tell he was absolutely seething. Ransom had always been prone to anger but whatever his grandfather told him really had him pissed off. 

“Are you gonna tell me what just happened?” 

“No.” He said frankly, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

“Maybe I should drive.” You suggested. 

“I’ve got it.” He said, brushing off your concern. It felt like it only took half the time it normally did before the two of you were home. Ransom didn’t wait up for you as he made his way inside, leaving you standing outside by yourself. You followed him into the house, dropping off your things in the doorway. When you found him he was sitting on the couch in the living room, bouncing his leg rapidly.

More than anything, you just wanted to make him feel better. You hated seeing him like this. However, you knew he needed time. With a deep sigh you walk over to stand in front of him before leaning down to give his cheek a small peck. As you start to walk away he catches your wrist in his hand, stopping your movements.

"I'm gonna make this right. I promise." You didn't know what he was referring to since you had only caught the tail end of his and Harlan's conversation. However, you knew that he always kept his promises.

"I know you will." You reassure him before walking away, heading back for the bedroom. After his heartfelt words you half expected him to follow you but he didn't. He stayed seated on the couch, folding his hands in his lap. He watched you leave the room. As soon as you were gone, he headed for the front door. It wouldn’t be the first time he had left the house without a word. He was sure that you would hear the door opening and closing but he couldn’t let that stop him. What he had to do next was essential. 

The plan had formulated in his head on the drive home. There was an overwhelming sense of clarity in his mind as he realized what he must do to reverse his grandfather’s actions. He had to, not just for himself but for you. Without that inheritance he wouldn’t be able to keep you in comfort and luxury. Therefore, he was going to do what was necessary to make sure that money ended up in his hands. 

It felt like it took forever for him to arrive at his grandfather’s home. He had parked his car out of sight of the security cameras and hiked up towards the house, making sure to avoid the muddy paths along the way. Everything fell into place like clockwork. When he had finally reached the trellis on the side of the house he scaled it effortlessly, sneaking in through the secret passage in the hall. His grandfather’s study wasn’t far from there. As soon as he stepped inside he searched for Marta’s medical bag. It wasn’t hard to find, as she just left it next to the door. Setting the bag on the floor he rummaged through it to find his grandfather’s medications. This was the easy part. All he had to do was switch the liqiud in each of the bottles and he would be home free. Once he had finished he snuck out back the way he had come. Just as he was about to leave he spotted his great grandmother through the window. “Ransom? Are you back?” She inquired, eyes glazed over. He didn’t answer her, running back down the path towards his car. As soon as he was settled in his seat he peeled out of the woods and back down the road. 

His heart pounded and he was heaving with the adrenaline as he made his way back home. Home to you. His loving wife. As he thought of you he wasn’t able to help the stirring in his pants. His cock twitched as he thought about pressing you down into the mattress and fucking you within an inch of your life. On nights like this when his blood boiled with anger, all he ever wanted was to fuck you relentlessly. It was one of the only things that could calm him. Both of you knew this. It was almost like tradition. Whenever you saw him steaming in rage you would know to drop to your knees and start sucking his cock like a good girl. He wondered if you would do the same for him tonight or if you’d be asleep when he got home. After carrying out his devious plan it had gotten pretty late. He wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already made your way to bed. However, he hoped that you would be waiting up for him. He needed to feel your tight pussy wrapped around him right now more than anything. 

Soon enough he was pulling into the driveway. When he made his way into the house it was pitch black, save for a single hallway light. The light led him towards the bedroom where he optimistically opened the door. However, to his dismay, you were in bed. This only served to stoke the flames of his frustration as he closed the door behind him. There was a lamp still on beside the bed. You must have been too tired to remember to turn it off. He went to do so for you when something caught his eye. There was a note on the night stand. He picked it up, holding it in the lamplight so that he could read it.

“I know it’s been a hard day. I wanted to make sure you were well taken care of. I know I fell asleep before you got home but don’t let that stop you from getting what you need. All that frustration ... take it out on me. My body is yours to use as you see fit. Check under the blanket for a surprise. Love, Y/N.” 

Ransom furrows his brow for a brief moment, unsure if he should take the bait or not. You’re facing away from him on the bed, completely covered in your large warm comforter. With a tentative hand, he pulls the blanket off of you. When he does his eyes widen and a breath catches in his throat. You’re totally naked underneath. What’s more, he spots something else that captures his attention. With a wicked grin, he notices that there is a butt plug secured inside your tight little asshole. The sight of you like this causes his cock to harden instantly. He’s nearly busting out of his pants as he takes a step closer to the bed, thoroughly enjoying the view. 

Reaching out towards you he runs a hand down your back and over the curve of your ass. Your skin is so soft beneath his hands and it causes him to groan lowly as he hikes your leg a little higher to get a good look at your sweet pussy. It glistens in the lamplight, already so creamy and wet from the dirty dreams you’re probably having right now. “God you are so fucking good to me.” He mumbles. 

With two fingers he traces a line through your slick folds, gathering up some of your wetness. Unable to contain himself, he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks on them. The taste of you makes his cock twitch. He lowers his hand to your cunt, dragging his fingers through your pussy lips again. Your wet fuckhole weeps, begging for his attention. Who was he to deny you? Nudging at your entrance he eases his two fingers inside of you, fucking you gently. That’s when he curls his digits upwards, finding your g-spot. He knows how much you love it when he massages the soft spongey flesh there. If you were awake he knew you’d be arching your back and whining loudly. Instead, you whimper lightly as he strokes your insides. 

“Do you like that? You like it when I love on your special spot baby?” He mocks you, knowing the answer. That’s when the glint of the lamplight catches on the shiny butt plug, stealing his attention. The button on the end was a cute pink heart jewel. The two of you had picked it out together. You only used it for special occasions. Even if you were oblivious to the fact, tonight was just such a night. Within the next few days the two of you would have more money than you would know what to do with. That was cause for celebration. And he was going to celebrate by abusing all of your tight holes. 

Taking a firm hold of the end of the butt plug he begins pulling, watching the bulbous tip stretch open your hole. This tears a whine from your lips as he pushes it back inside of you. He continues that movement slowly, in and out of your tight asshole. All the while he continues to fingerfuck your tight cunt. Feeling a sudden surge of cruelty he yanks the butt plug out of you with a pop. This is enough to make your eyes snap open, a hard gasp ripping through your chest as you take in all the sensations of waking up like this. 

“Good morning my darling wife. How did you sleep?” He asks however you are not able to respond, overwhelmed by the feelings of his fingers and the plug moving in and out of you at the same pace. Now that you’ve opened your eyes he doesn’t hesitate to be rougher, fucking you in earnest. As much as you love what he can do with his fingers you crave more. You need his cock inside of you. 

“Ransom--” He cuts you off with another harsh yank of the plug. 

“What’s the matter baby? Am I fucking you too good? Can’t finish your sentence? That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I know what you want. And you’re gonna get it. Of course, how can I say no to that sweet little face?” He says, dripping with condescension. However, you couldn’t care less. All you want is the feeling of him inside you. 

“Please.” Is the only word you’re able to get out. Ransom doesn’t need to hear anymore though. He’s happy to oblige you.

“Why don’t you get comfy baby?” He asks as he begins peeling off layers of clothing. You do as he says, scooching onto your back and laying in the middle of the bed. As soon as he’s completely naked he climbs up onto the bed, nestling himself between your legs. Taking his cock into his hand he rubs the head up and down through your folds. The feeling of your slickness makes him groan deeply as he nudges up against your entrance. “God, you’re going to feel so good wrapped around my cock. I’m gonna take out all my frustrations on this little pussy baby. Do you want that? You want my cock?” 

“Yes. Please.” You whimper, squirming closer to him. 

“Don’t worry baby girl. You’re gonna fucking get it.” With that he pushes the tip inside of you, easing his fat cock into your tight wet hole. “Oh fuck. That’s it. Such a good girl.” He praises you as he shoves himself in the rest of the way, burying himself balls deep inside of you. The fullness that you feel makes your mouth gape as you take him. Your back arches as you try to work your hips further into him. No matter how good he fucks you, you always want more. 

“Harder please.” This makes a wicked grin spread across his face. 

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder baby? I should have fucking known, you being the little slut that you are. Don’t you worry your dumb little head. I’m just getting started.” He doesn’t move any faster, content to take his time and move at his own pace. This causes you to whimper loudly as you try to get his attention, begging him for what you want. However, it’s all to no avail. 

“If you keep whining like that I’m gonna stop fucking you altogether. Is that what you want? Huh? Do you want me to stop?” 

“No!” You burst out and he nods his head. 

“That’s what I fucking thought. So shut your mouth and take what I give you.” To this you give small sheepish nod and simply lay back against the pillows, letting Ransom go as slowly as he pleases. With each thrust you feel more and more full, feeling the head of his cock easing against your cervix. Your back arches off the bed when he indulges you with a particularly hard thrust. He begins to shift his hips, moving in just the right way so that he hits your sweet spot with his tip each time he thrusts in and out. This causes you to moan loudly, unable to control yourself when he’s digging into the perfect spot which makes you explode with pleasure. As he pushes into your g-spot over and over again you feel a familiar coil building in your stomach. Just as you feel the coil ready to snap and send you over the edge, he pulls out of you. You whimper shamelessly and in response, he clamps a hand over your mouth to stop your noises. 

“I told you to shut up. Since you don’t know how to follow a simple order, I’m gonna help you.” Taking his hand away from your mouth, he scoots up the bed until his thick heavy cock is resting against your face. “Go on sweetheart. Put my big fat dick in your mouth. That’ll shut you up.” You obediently open your mouth, starting by licking the tip. A bead of precum leaks out onto your tongue and you swallow it greedily. Ransom’s eyes stay concentrated on you as you take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it as you swirl your tongue around him. “Come on, you can fucking take more than that.” He says, prompting you to open wider and take more of him into your mouth. Your tongue licks lazy patterns on the underside of his cock as you bob your head up and down. A deep groan leaves his lips as you push your head as far down on his dick as you can, feeling him against the back of your throat. Pulling off with a pop you catch your breath before quickly returning to suck his cock. You push him down your throat each time, nuzzling your nose into his lower stomach. 

“God, that’s good. All the way down, just like that. You’re such a good little cocksucker baby.” Ransom praises. He holds your head still with one hand and begins thrusting into your throat, fucking your mouth. You gag and splutter as he fucks you relentlessly, not giving you a moment to breathe. After a moment he pulls out of your mouth completely, moving back down your body until he’s hovering over your pussy again. “Alright baby, get on your hands and knees.” 

You oblige him quickly, wide awake now as you position yourself right where he wants you. As soon as you’re in place he lines his cock up with your wet little fuckhole. He doesn’t hesitate, pushing in balls deep the moment that he’s ready. You moan softly as you feel him fill you up. Somehow you feel even more full when he’s fucking you from behind. Ransom pounds in and out of you, your head jolting forward into the pillow every time his cock goes crashing into you. 

“Fuck yes. Do you like that? Like the way my dick stuffs you? Jesus you’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna bust pretty soon sweetheart.” He tells you, his hips beginning to stutter as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. You scream, feeling every inch of him rubbing your insides raw. His hand threads through your hair, pulling your head off the pillows so he can look at you. “That’s it. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you stupid.” He says, jutting upwards so that he’s hitting your sweet spot again. This causes that familiar pressure to build in your stomach. He immediately knows that your close, pulling your body flush against his own so that he can rub your pretty clit. A few rough strokes of his fingers on your clit is enough to send you flying over the edge. You convulse, shaking on his cock as you cum for him. The feeling of you clenching around him brings him close to his own orgasm. He pushes you back into the bed and pulls out, giving his cock a few long strokes before he unloads all over your back. Thick hot ropes of cum shoot out over your skin as he grunts and groans, milking every drop of seed out of himself. When he’s down he collapses beside you, eyes closed as he pants. 

“Jesus that was so good Y/N. You’re so good to me.”

“I certainly try.” 

“You do more than try. You’re everything to me. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you hear me? I’m gonna make sure you’re well taken care of as long as we both shall live. I promise.” You didn’t know what was on his mind but you could tell he was deep in thought. 

“I know Ransom. I know.” You assure him, scooting closer and draping an arm over him. After a few minutes of catching your breaths together he hops up, grabbing a towel to wipe the cum off your back. He lays back down, pulling you close in his arms. 

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure my baby is safe and happy.” As he says this he sees flashes of what he did tonight in his mind. He really would do anything for you. Even murder. Not that you needed to know that. He watches you patiently until you fall asleep before he himself drifts off, falling into a deep and dreamless slumber. 

Tags: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @readsalot73​ @runa-falls @sheerfreesia007​ @hansensgirl @cloudystevie​ @royalsweetteaa @inklore @shotgunbunny @imyourbratzdoll @sstan-hoe @diordrysdale @rubynationwins @syntheticavenger @comfortcap​ @onsunnyside @boxofbonesfic @wildestdreamsblog @balenciagabucky​

#chris evans #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #knives out #knives out x reader #chris evans x reader #rough #degrading

[the-iceni-bitch]

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Series Summary: You’ve been a pain in Ransom’s ass ever since your father married his mother, and it’s gotten even worse since they forced him to take you in when they got you into that exclusive Omega college in the city. But if being tasked with taking care of you and preparing you for the big bad world means he gets to fuck with your poor little gullible Omega brain, he can’t complain too much.

Series warnings: dark to soft!dark stepbrother Alpha!Ransom Drysdale, naive!Omega stepsister female Reader, explicit language, dubcon and noncon, A/B/O dynamics, scent kink, marking kink, explicit sexual content, DARK SERIES! NO MINORS!

Series Installments:

I

II

III

III.5

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

Blurbs, Drabbles, and other Randomness:

Le plus pur, le plus émouvant

Christmas hot chocolate is not normal hot chocolate

#you’ll never go down to the gods again #series masterlist #ransom drysdale series #stepbrother alpha!ransom #alpha/omega dynamics #dark!alpha ransom drysdale #a/b/o

[krirebr]

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

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Dark!Female Reader, past Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: You take a trip to Boston - A sequel to We Are Vain and We Are Blind

Warnings: Horror elements, lots of discussion of murder, a little gore, discussion of past cheating, Ransom and Reader being generally creepy and gross, mind control - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: Surprise, they're back! I just could not get these two out of my head, so here we are with a little Halloween treat. If you haven't read We Are Vain & We Are Blind, this has massive spoilers for how that ends, so you'll want to read it first. Otherwise, enjoy and happy Halloween!

As always, any comments or reblogs are very appreciated. I'm so obsessed with these two, so if you have any questions or thots about their further adventures, please send them my way!

All titles for this AU come from Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads

“Andrew, it’s time to wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered and you saw his eyeballs move, but he didn’t fully wake, so you brushed the hair off his forehead and said, a little bit louder now, “Andrew, sweetheart, wake up.”

He let out a happy, sleepy little hum as he opened his eyes and smiled to see you lying next to him. You smiled back, excitement thrumming through you, as his smile gave way to confusion. You didn’t move, just watched eagerly as his brain slowly caught up. When it finally did, he pushed away from you. “What the fuck? What are– You can’t be here!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy,” Ransom said from his place at the foot of the bed.

Andy surged up, getting out of bed and to the other side of the room as fast as he could go. You got up much more slowly, unhurried, and placed yourself in front of Ransom as he continued. “If you’d been smart, we wouldn’t have been able to get in. But you left her name on the lease, didn’t you? Stupid boy.” He pulled you flush to him and splayed a possessive hand across your stomach, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

“Who the fu– Wha– Why–” Andy spluttered.

“Oh poor baby,” you cooed. “You’ve always been so useless before your second cup of coffee, huh?” Ransom’s chuckle huffed against your neck.

Andy took a deep breath and pulled himself up straight. He called your name, sternly. You hadn’t missed that. “You and your fuck boy need to get the fuck out of my house.” 

You could feel Ransom roll his eyes. His whole body moved with it. You were smiling still. You hadn’t stopped since you’d opened the bedroom window and slipped through. 

“We’ve already been over this,” Ransom said. “You were lazy and left her name on the lease, so in the eyes of any laws that matter to us,” he grinned, “she has every right to be here and we don’t need an invitation.” 

You watched Andy’s eyes flit to his phone plugged in to charge on his bedside table. “I’m serious,” he said in his lawyer voice, “you need to leave right now or I’m calling the cops.”

You and Ransom just stood there and waited. The second you saw Andy decide to go for his phone, you were across the room in a blink. You locked eyes with his. You’d been practicing for this. “Stop,” you compelled, feeling your voice vibrate with it. He froze and you felt high off of it. “Stay,” you added and when he didn’t move, you patted his head and said, “Good boy.”

“What is happening, why can’t I move?” he asked, panicked, as you turned your back on him. “What did you do to me?”

You ignored him and returned to where Ransom was intently looking through the room.

“So this is where you lived,” Ransom said, looking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Mhmm,” you answered. 

“It doesn’t suit you,” he said. “So small.”

You let out a little laugh. “There are other rooms.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” You did and you had to agree with him. You hadn’t been sure what to expect coming back here. A pang of longing maybe. Some sort of homesickness. But you felt nothing. This was someone else’s home from someone else’s life.

Andy was still carrying on in the background, getting louder now that he was being ignored. You turned to look at him and Ransom wrapped his arms around your stomach, lightly nipping at your neck. “That,” he said, nodding to Andy, “is a choice I’ll never understand.”

You shrugged. “It made sense at the time.” 

He hummed into your neck, placing a hungry kiss there. “Only because I hadn’t shown you what you could be, yet,” he sighed. “What was hiding inside of you this whole time.” You pushed yourself back into him, grasping his hands where they met on your stomach. “Poor little thing,” he continued, “desperately needing something without knowing what. No wonder you came running right to me.” Your eyes fluttered shut, as one of his hands slowly traveled up your abdomen to the space between your breasts. “Look at you now, all this power–”

Andy yelled your name and you looked up at him. “Everyone’s searching for you! Your parents are worried sick. They won’t stop calling to see if I’ve seen you. Tineka’s convinced I’ve buried your body somewhere. And this whole time, you’ve just been what? Fucking some guy?”

You frowned at the mention of your parents. You felt something at that. Sadness maybe, but it was so far away. Like you were experiencing someone else’s memories. 

“Shut up,” Ransom said calmly, but you could feel the power in the command. Andy immediately went silent.  

Ransom walked you over to the bed without giving up his grip on you. “So this is where the magic happened?” You snorted. “How many other women did he fuck in your bed?”

“Three,” you snarled. “That I know of.”

He ran a hand over your hair as he looked over at Andy. “I don’t know why you had to go looking elsewhere when you had such a perfect grade-A pussy waiting for you at home,” he said and ran his nose up the column of your throat. Your want thrummed through your entire body—every part of you. There hadn’t been a single second of a day that you hadn’t needed him since he turned you. You were always hungry for him. He’d told you it would calm down once you’d had more time to adjust. You weren’t sure you wanted it to.

“I’m thinking you just didn’t know how to use it,” he continued, talking to Andy but letting his hands roam all over you. “You know, the first time I went down on her, she acted like she’d never had a real orgasm before. I had to be the one to unlock all her power after you’d tamped it down. To show her how good she could feel and be all the time. Forever.”

At that, you craned your head back to catch Ransom’s lips in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered up to your breasts, squeezing just right. You moaned into his mouth. You were so tempted to push him down on the bed, take him right there, but that wasn’t what you'd come here for. Wasn’t what you were starving for.  

You broke the kiss and looked back at Andy. He was furious but mingled with that, you could also see fear. It made you gleeful. You wanted more. You locked eyes with him and let your fangs drop. There was the briefest moment of confusion on his face, but then the penny dropped and he finally understood what was happening. Still held in place by your command, he couldn’t cower, but you could see how much he wanted to. 

Ransom was still pawing away at you, but you were getting tired of the foreplay. “I’m hungry,” you whined.

He laughed, “You’re always hungry, my insatiable little thing.”

“I’m ready. Let me bite him.”

Ransom hummed into your neck. “You gonna play with him a little before you kill him?”

You let yourself relish the abject terror on Andy’s face before you answered. “I’m not going to kill him.”

Ransom’s hands fell to your hips as he took a step back and turned you around to face him. “What do you mean you aren’t going to kill him?”

“I want to taste him, feed on him, and then make sure he’ll never tell anyone he saw us, and leave. I want him to know that I can come back any time I want. I want him to go crazy with it. I want to make him feel the way you made me feel.”

“Baby,” he said, his tone slightly cajoling, “you know why I had to do that.”

You nodded. You did. He’d explained it to you and you’d understood. He had to break you down before he could build you back up—before he could make you into what you were always meant to be. You reached out to him and grazed your fingertips over his cheek. “I know,” you said, “and you know I’m so grateful for it. But it doesn’t change how scared I was. And that’s how I want him to feel. For the rest of his life.”

Ransom sighed. “You’re still so young, honey. You haven’t shown the best restraint so far. Are you sure you’ll be able to stop?”

“I’m getting better,” you pouted.

“You are,” he agreed, “but remember how upset you were after that waitress? I just don’t want you to be disappointed in yourself if this doesn’t go how you’d planned, little rabbit.”

“I can do it,” you said firmly. “And you’ll help me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, I’ll help you. But I still say we should just kill him and be done with it.”

“Noted,” you said with a gentle smile and a quick peck to his lips. You turned back to Andy and slowly erased the distance between you. You traced his cheekbone with a sharp fingernail and gave a feral grin as you watched him do what he could to flinch away from you. “I want to hear him beg,” you said, without breaking eye contact with him.

Ransom groaned behind you. “It’s going to be annoying.”

“No, it’ll be good. He’ll beg so pretty, won’t you, darling?”

“Fine,” Ransom sighed behind you. You could just imagine his irritated face as he grasped your waist and sandwiched you between the two men. “You may speak,” he said over your shoulder.

Andy breathed your name. Once, twice. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you don’t have to do this. Whatever he’s making you– This isn’t you. I know it isn’t. I know you. You don’t want to do this, you don’t. Listen, listen, I– I still love you. I do.” He was frantic, babbling. It was incredible. “Come on! It’s me. I know I hurt you, and, and I’m sorry. But you still love me, I know you do. Don’t do this. Please. Please, you can’t do this. You can’t fucking do this!”   

“I’ll tell you one thing, bud,” Ransom said, his mouth so close to your ear, every inch of him pressed up against your back. “You never fucking knew her.” He squeezed your waist. “Come on, baby, let’s do what we came here for.”

You pressed back into Ransom for the briefest moment and then lunged forward latching onto Andy’s neck, holding him close in your arms. As his blood filled your mouth, you groaned in pleasure. He was so fucking good, everything you dreamed. You sucked hard, feeling him losing strength beneath you when Ransom suddenly pulled you back.

“Pace yourself, little rabbit,” he said. 

You looked down at Andy, quickly losing color. “But he’s so good,” you whined. “I want more.”

“I know you do, and you’ll have it. But first, give me a taste.” He forced you to let go of Andy, who collapsed onto the floor and turned you around. He licked Andy’s blood off your lips. “Mmm,” he hummed in consideration. “He’s fine I guess. Nothing compared to you.” You smiled into it as he kissed you again. “Come on, let’s get him on the bed. We still have all night.”

#dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #dark reader #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #knives out #defending jacob #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #kris wrote something #we are vain & we are blind #don't touch me i'm a real live wire

[jobean12-blog]

Angel and Demons (Boyfriend part 2)

Pairing: Ari Levinson x reader, Lloyd Hansen x reader, Ransom Drysdale x reader 

Word Count: 2,978

Summary: Lloyd finally makes his move to get what he always thought should be his. 

Author’s Note: I had to get this out because it was bouncing around my head for almost two weeks! I want to thank my loves @maladaptivexxdaydreaming and @maskedmistress87 for talking me through this and helping me to come up with a solid idea! Hope you all enjoy and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you love! 🥰 

You can read the first part HERE it’s not necessary but may help explain a little :)

Warnings: kidnapping, light violence and threats, being tied up (but not in the fun way), cursing, mentions of implied dub/non con, smut- and all of it consenual, fingering, p in v (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Your clothes are cold and sticking to your skin, the material still soaked through from the rain. Hot tears roll down your cheeks and your wrists and ankles ache from the tight pull of the rope around them. You tug nonetheless, summoning every last ounce of strength and struggling against every bind.

With a muffled cry you jerk your body forward, testing how far you can move in this position. It’s not much but maybe if you can get yourself to something sharp…

The chair is suddenly jerked backward and your body snaps with the force, your delicate skin chaffing from the ropes. A sob racks your body and you hang your head.

“Aw what’s the matter princess? Trying to find a way to escape?”

Ransom’s fingers grab your chin and jerk your face upward. You squeeze your eyes shut and curse him.

“What was that princess?” he asks, tapping the soft fabric of your panties that sits between your lips. “I couldn’t quite make that out?”

His finger slides across your jaw and down your neck, grazing between your breasts before his hand rests on your thigh. You press your legs together, loath to allow him to touch you anymore.

“This really isn’t the way I wanted to have you tied and bound with your panties stuffed in your mouth sweetheart,” he tsks. “But since you wouldn’t come willingly…”

You silently curse yourself, your stomach twisting when you think of how naïve you were to think that helping a stranger with a broken-down car on the side of the road was a good idea. But it was Ransom’s grandfather that had softened your heart. The poor man looked sickly and when Ransom said he needed a ride home to get his grandfather’s medication, you couldn’t say no.

Ari. He was going to be so mad at you…if you lived to ever see him again. The thought brings a new wave of tears but Ransom’s harsh touch drags you out of your sadness.

Ransom shoves his hand between your legs and you let out a stifled scream, pushing off the floor with your feet and sending your chair careening backward. You land on the floor with a loud thud and cry harder.

“I thought I told you I wanted her untouched Drysdale?”

From your position on the floor, you couldn’t see the new person that entered the room but you recognized that voice. It made your head pound harder and when that familiar trash stache came into view you whimpered, more tears rolling down your face.

“Oh sunshine,” Lloyd shushes as he pulls your chair upright and brushes you off. “I’m so sorry.”

He pulls your panties from your mouth and stuffs them into his pants pocket, softly wiping your chin and lips. You jerk away from his touch and hear Ransom scoff from behind him.

Lloyd quickly turns around and gets in Ransom’s face.

“You better watch your step Drysdale. You’re in more trouble than me. Technically you’re the one who kidnapped Levinson’s wife.”

Lloyd smirks when Ransom backs away and his neck strains with the hard swallow he makes.

“Can I get you a drink sunshine?” Lloyd asks as he saunters to the bar. “If I remember correctly it’s whiskey sours that you like best, isn’t it?”

Your eyes go wide and Lloyd laughs.

“Don’t think I pay attention huh?” Lloyd sings.

He pours himself a drink and makes you a whiskey sour, walking back over and holding it up to your mouth. You clamp it shut and grimace when he leans in close to your face.

“I pay attention…to everything,” he whispers as he presses the glass to the seam of your lips. When you don’t open up he pushes harder and you cry out, finally opening your mouth to take a sip. You swallow and cough, not having had any water or food in hours.

“I should probably get you something to eat too,” Lloyd muses.

“I’ve got something she can choke on,” Ransom snickers.

Lloyd shoots him a warning glare before turning back to you and giving you a false saccharine smile.

“Don’t worry sunshine. The only cock you’re gonna get is mine,” Lloyd assures you with a kiss to your neck.

You can feel the bile rising in your throat and it takes every bit of your resolve to steal yourself and try to clear your head so you can formulate a plan. You have to think of something. With Ari away on his business trip you’re on your own and if anything happens to you he won’t forgive himself.

You take a calming breath and focus, discreetly scanning the room and trying to remember everything Ari taught you.

Unfortunately, anything of use to you is far out of reach and with both Lloyd and Ransom circling you like predators it would be impossible to go that route. But you could put your mouth to good use in another way…

“Lloyd,” you squeak out, audibly swallowing. “I…I need some water.”

You try to keep your tone docile and your voice quiet, lowering your lashes when Lloyd steps into your space.

He dips his head and waits until you lift your eyes to his.

“What was that sunshine?” he asks, lifting his brows expectantly.

“Please?” you whisper.

Lloyd’s grin widens. “Now that’s a good girl. You learn quick. Can’t wait until you’re begging for my cock. But, since you asked so nicely, water first.”

Doing your best to ignore his vile words you nod and give him a soft “thank you.”

Lloyd turns to Ransom and snaps his fingers. “Drysdale. Water for our princess. NOW!”

Ransom looks entirely offended and his head snaps back in shock.

“What the fuck Lloyd. You get her water,” Ransom spits out.

Lloyds hangs his head with a shake, his hands landing on his hips as he takes two long strides toward Ransom.

In a flash of silver Lloyd has a gun pointed at Ransom’s head.

“Do I need to ask again?” Lloyd growls.

Ransom’s eyes widen slightly but he sets his jaw in a hard line, his eyes narrowed as he backs toward the bar. He fills a glass with water and walks in your direction. Lloyd places a strong hand on Ransom’s chest and stops him in his tracks.

“Thanks,” Lloyd says as he plucks the glass from Ransom’s hand.

“Here you are beautiful,” Lloyd hums as he holds the glass to your lips.

You drink greedily, spilling some water down your chin and neck. Lloyd’s fingers follow the liquid, brushing it away before his hand closes around your throat.

He squeezes as he sneers, “don’t think I don’t know what you’re playing at sunshine. I’m not stupid. But don’t worry, willingly or not I’ll have what I want.”

He lets go of your throat and you suck in a gasping breath.

“You’re such a worthless piece of shit,” you spit out. “Why are you doing this?” you ask as more tears threaten to fall.

“There she is,” Lloyd beams. “I knew that sassy mouth couldn’t stay shut for long but I have plenty of ways to keep you quiet if you don’t behave,” Lloyd warns.

“What the fuck are we waiting for Lloyd?” Ransom asks as he paces the room. “And how are you so sure Levinson won’t find us?”

Lloyd chuckles. “You really are stupid, aren’t you Drysdale. I know what I’m doing.”

Ransom steps into Lloyd’s space. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

Lloyd reflects on Ransom’s words, the room silent other than your rapid heartbeat and the rush of blood in your ears.

“Fine. Let’s move to the next location. And then…I’m taking what should have always been mine.”

Lloyd turns to you and winks.

The next few minutes go by in a blur. Ransom blindfolds you and unties you from the chair but doesn’t loosen the binds around your wrists or ankles. He throws you over his shoulder, giving your ass a good squeeze before he chimes, “come on princess, time to go home.”  

Your cry is muffled from the new material stuffed between your lips and you wiggle and writhe to try and break free of Ransom’s grasp.

It only makes him hold you tighter to his body, his hands firmly wrapped around your thighs.

“Save it sunshine,” Lloyd hums from beside you. “I want you to have some fight left in you for later.”

Ransom kicks the door open and you feel the cool night air on your skin, a shiver running through you from your still damp clothes.

The roar of a motorcycle fills the air and your heart soars. You feel Ransom stiffen and hear Lloyd curse. It takes all your self-control not to scream.

Unfortunately, your thrown from Ransom’s arms and the press of cold metal to your throat makes your breath catch.

“What did you think sunshine? I wouldn’t have a plan if he showed up?” Lloyd breathes against your ear as he pulls the blindfold from your eyes.

Lloyd has you pressed to his chest, his hips digging into your back as he pushes the blade into your throat.

You struggle but when you see Ransom lift the gun in his hand your body sags against Lloyd and you cry out for Ari, nothing more than a muffled wail coming from your lips.

His motorcycle screeches up the driveway and you see Ari’s hair blowing across his face as he nears. The gunshot goes off and you fall to the floor, taking Lloyd with you. You manage to kick your legs into him and slink a few feet away but Ransom grabs you and lifts you into his arms.

“Where do you think you’re going princess?” Ransom growls.

He drags you toward Ari’s fallen motorcycle and you start to fight and scream, unable to contain your emotions any longer. Your eyes are so tightly shut that it’s painful, your refusal to see Ari’s dead body overtaking all else.

“What the fu…?” Ransom mutters before he screams out in pain and falls to his knees.

You drop to the ground with him, frantically searching for an escape.

Strong arms wrap around your body and a familiar scent fills your nostrils, the smell of home.

You curl into Ari, your body shaking with your sobs. Ari pulls the gag free and kisses your lips over and over, his lashes wet with unshed tears. Your cry harder, wanting nothing more than you wrap yourself around him.

He shushes you softly, his thumb wiping across your cheek. He opens his mouth to speak but your eyes widen with terror and he instantly shields you and rolls out of the way. Both Lloyd and the knife fall hard to the ground and Lloyd crawls toward the knife, closing his fingers tightly around the hilt.

Ari takes the opportunity to throw himself on top of Lloyd but Lloyd lifts the knife and has it against Ari’s chest.

You scream and kick, straining against the binds in a hopeless effort.

“Ari,” you sob.

Ari grabs Lloyd’s wrist and you hear a cracking sound followed by Lloyd’s scream of pain as the knife clatters to the pavement.

Ari’s other hand closes around Lloyd’s throat.

“I should never have let you walk away from me Hansen,” Ari snarls. “But she asked me to. She asked me to give you second chance…because everyone deserves one.”

Ari looks over at you, at you bound and roughed up and his voice cracks.

“And I’ll do anything for her. Anything to make her happy,” Ari continues, his grip of Lloyd’s neck tightening.

“But you…you took her from me,” Ari says, his voice dangerous again. “You took what’s mine and you’re out of chances.”

Ari presses his knee into Lloyd’s chest, cutting off even more of his air supply.

The low groan of Ransom draws Ari’s attention away and he scoffs.

“And you used this pretentious low life piece of shit to lure her into your trap,” Ari seethes.

“How much did he pay you Ransom?” Ari asks. “Is it ever enough?”

Ransom curses and spits toward Ari. It makes Ari put more pressure on Lloyd’s neck and he gasps for air as he claws at Ari’s arm.

“I promised I would put you in the ground Lloyd. And now, it looks like you’ll have some company,” Ari growls.

Ari helps you up the steps and into the house, his arms a constant reminder of your safety. He kisses your cheeks, your neck, your lips. Every piece of skin he can find as he carries you up to the bathroom. He sets you down carefully, his hands trembling against your cheek.

“Angel,” he whispers, his eyes shining.

Your hand reaches up and you cradle his face. He nuzzles into your touch and his eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

“I’m here Ari. I’m ok,” you assure him.

“Let me take care of you,” he pleads, taking your hand in his.

He brings your knuckles to his lips and stares at you over them, kissing each one before pressing your hand to his heart.

You feel it’s steady beat and slip your hand under his open shirt to feel his warm skin. His forehead leans against yours and you breathe each other in for a few quiet moments. When Ari pulls away it’s only so he can begin to unbutton your shirt, his thick fingers fumbling with the small buttons.

“It’s ok,” you tell him over and over again, resting your hands over his and helping to undo them.

He pushes the fabric from your shoulders with a gentle touch, his eyes scanning every inch of your skin for injuries. When he drags your skirt down your legs and sees your bare skin he sucks in a breath and curses, falling to his knees.

“Angel no,” he cries. “Please tell me they never touched you. Never laid even a finger on you!”

Your fingers slide under his chin and you caress his beard as you lift his head and look into his eyes.

“They made threats, but they never did,” you promise him. “You saved me.”

He sags against your legs, wrapping his arms around them and pressing his face to your thighs. His soft whispers of thanks bring a new wave of tears to your eyes and you run your fingers through his long hair and soothingly scratch his scalp.

When he finally stands again, he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, letting it float from your body and to the floor of the bathroom. His hands wander reverently over your naked skin, every pass of his fingers washing away the horror of the last few hours.

“I’m sorry Angel. I’ll never leave you again,” he says softly.

You shush him with the press of your lips and he pulls your body flush to his, unable to get you close enough.

“Let me clean you up,” he whispers against your lips.

You step back and take his hand as he helps you into the warm bath. You watch as he strips off his clothes, revealing the hard planes of muscle and the scars lining it. You can see several bruises that have already formed from his fall from the motorcycle and his skin is littered with dried blood.

You frown but when he drops his pants your lips start to turn up and for the first time you see Ari smile.

“What?” you ask, batting your lashes. “I missed my husband.”

His smile softens and he steps into the tub, sliding in behind you. His arms instantly wrap around your body and pull you closer. He takes the soap and squirts some onto his hand, lathering it up then pressing the soft bubbles to your back.

He massages your skin, working over your neck and shoulders before turning you in his arms. He slides his hands over your breasts, paying special attention to your peaked nipples before his hand moves down your stomach.

Your back arches and you lean into his touch, your legs spreading open over his lap. His hard cock settles between your thighs and you gently rock over him, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Ari please,” you mewl, taking his thick wrist and shoving it lower.

His fingers tease your clit, rubbing small circles before he slips a finger inside you.

“God I missed this pussy angel. Thought about it every night I was away.”

You press yourself harder onto his hand and breathe out his name.

“Need more Ari,” you whimper.

His curse is muffled against your lips and when he pushes a second finger into you and you clench around him his teeth dig into your lip, his control waning.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, chasing your release.

When he pulls his fingers free his hand closes around your hip and he rocks you over his cock before lining you up and slowly pushing inside.

“Oh god, fuck,” he hisses, almost bruising your skin with his grip. “Angel, please.”

Your walls tighten with every pump of his hips and he buries his face in your neck, sucking and biting the soft flesh.

His cock throbs and you know he’s close, the feel of him stretching you open too good to stop you from tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name and grip his hair tightly between your fingers, tugging his lips to yours to swallow his moans.

When you both come down from the high you gently rock your hips, loving the feel of him inside you still.

“We made a mess,” you giggle, looking at the water covering the tiles of the bathroom.

Ari’s gentle touch brings your eyes back to his and his gaze is soft as a sweet smile plays upon his lips.

“I love you angel. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

@book-dragon-13 @christywantspizza @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @goldylions @jhangelface0523 @loricamebackyetagain @lookiamtrying @loki-laufeyson-1054 @patzammit @rebel-stardust @weekendgothgirl @breakablebarnes @randomfandompenguin @seitmai @justile @nomadicpixel @nano--raptor​

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson imagine #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans x reader

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍

week 3 - day 9 - kinktober - spanking and being recorded - camboy ransom drysdale x camgirl reader.

warning - spanking and being recorded

kinktober masterlist

18+ only please, the gifs and headers aren’t mine.

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

Ransom opens the door, and his cute little cam-buddy is standing on the other side dressed in the tiny maid’s costume he bought her. She quickly heads inside with her arms tightly wrapped around herself. “Aww, Sweetheart, did you walk here wearing this cute little piece?” His hands come down to play with the hem of the dress. 

Y/n’s plump lips pout, her eyes wide, and small tears forming. The harsh words and the catcalls she received on the way here are still stuck in her head, “y–you said that you wanted me in this… and that you wanted me over now….” Ransom’s hand caresses her cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears.

“Aw, my poor baby. I bet no one treated you nicely while you were heading here, did they?” He watches you shake your head. “I’m still going to have to punish you, though, for showing everyone the goods without payment.” Ransom leads you to the bedroom, where the lights are dimmed, and the camera is set up.

The room smells of vanilla and jasmine as the candle in the corner burns, Ransom may be an ass to everyone else, but you are his baby and the only person he’s remotely soft for, unless it comes down to his cock then he’s rock hard for you. 

Ransom’s grey trackies are sat low on his hips, displaying the defined v-line and the monstrous bulge that causes your mouth to water. He leads you to the bed, instructing you to sit as he walks over to the camera. “Now, my little dumb baby. I’ll give you an easy task to do. When I walk over there, all you have to do is bend over my lap. You understand?” Y/n nods, feeling her mind already going fuzzy from being in his presence.

Ransom turns the camera on before he turns and faces the goddess on his bed. Sauntering over to her, he sits and pats his thigh. His bulge straining against his pants as all he wanted to do was pound the shit out of her, but the fans wanted her to be spanked. Who is he to ignore his fans? Especially when they are the ones bringing the money in.

Y/n stumbles a bit as she crawls over his lap and lays herself down. The bottom of her costume lifts, exposing her bare ass. Ransom groans, biting his lip as his hand comes down and palms her cheeks before he lifts and strikes it down. The sound of the slap echoes in the room. “Naughty girl, you walked around with nothing underneath. How many do you think you deserve, huh?” He waits a few seconds before a hand comes up and under your chin. He turns your head to face him, already noticing the spaced-out look in your eyes and the drool leaking out of your mouth.

“I haven’t even done anything yet, and you’ve already gone dumb. I guess it’s up to me how many you deserve.” A dark look takes over his features, his hand striking down harder as his gaze lifts and stares into the camera. As his hand continues to come down harder on her ass, her soft moans fill the room and Ransom’s cock throbs, his hand and fingers begin to feel wet, causing him to look down, and the sight he sees causes a growl to leave his mouth.

“D–don’t stop... Please, S–sir, please don’t stop.” Y/n’s whines fill the room, her cheeks red and cunt dripping. Tears fall from her eyes as her pussy throbs, wanting Ransom to continue, feeling desperate. 

“Such a dirty slut, getting fucking wet from me spanking you?” A smirk forms on Ransom’s face before he harshly moves your body, sitting you on his lap and legs spread while your facing the camera. You look fucked and ruined. Ransom rests his chin on your shoulder, staring directly into the camera and smirking darkly. Before his hand flies down and spanks your throbbing cunt, causing Y/n to nearly fly forward and a sharp moan to fall from your lips.

Ransom continues to slap your puffy pussy, enjoying the sounds it makes when the flesh of his hand connects. “Doesn’t she look wonderful?” A hand comes up and wraps tightly around your throat, the other continuing to spank your cute little cunt as mewls fall from her lips. Ransom moves closer to your ear as he whispers, “you’re the reason we make so much, my cute little baby.” His hand strikes down hard, catching your swollen button, “you’re mine. You only do this with me. You understand, sweetheart?” Whimpers leave Y/n’s mouth as you rapidly nod, your hips grinding down as you can feel your end approach quickly. Each slap of his hand brings you closer. “Speak,” Ransom spanks harder. 

Y/n’s back arches as she screams. “Yes! YES! O–only yours, Sir!” Her cunt spasms as she squirts. Her juices cover everything, and her nails dig into Ransom’s thighs. Her cunt throbs as Ransom continues to slap her sore lips. A wet spot forms on Ransom’s pants as he cums hard, holding tightly onto Y/n as he feels his cock throb and spasm wildly, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Once they both come down, Ransom falls back into the bed, pulling Y/n along and holding her against him tightly. He lets out a breath of relief, placing a bunch of kisses along the small woman’s head and then softly tucks her into his bed as he gets up and turns the camera off. “I’ll edit and post these tomorrow. How does that sound, sweetheart?” He notices us fast asleep when he turns, snuggled into his blanket.

A soft smile that no one ever sees appears on his face before he walks over, gently pulling the blanket back and removing our costume. Ransom reaches into his nightstand and takes out some soothing cream, and he applies it gently to our red and sore flesh before Ransom crawls into the bed and pulls us against his body snugly before falling into a deep sleep, satisfied and happy with how his life turned out.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollkinktober #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #chris evans characters #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans one shot #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x reader fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chrisevans #christopher robert evans #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x reader

[babyjakes]

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

event | jan ‘23 blurb night

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

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

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

word count | 1,488

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

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

dr. hugh ransom drysdale is such a fucking menace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ronearoundblindly]

Fire & Ice (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 12, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

I blame @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and @brandycranby for encouraging HughSaison. This is fairly loosely related to the prompt but there are a bunch of temperature references/illusions. 🤷🏻‍♀️Hey, I did my best. -> While I'm at it, does anyone want to own up (privately) to being the person who first asked about rich!Reader over a year ago??? I always wonder if that anon is still reading 🥹

Uhhh, angst with a fluffy ending... yeah, yeah, Ro loves writing arguments, we get it.

Warnings: If you've never read my Ransom before, beware. He curses like an angry sailor, inside and outside of his brain. Plus super suggestive language/mentions of sex. LOTS of dialogue. Zero editing. MINORS DNI. WC 1.8k

He cannot fucking believe it's come to this.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snips. “You cannot use a veto. You put me in charge.”

He watches you walk calmly, put away a dish calmly, sit at his couch calmly.

"I've made my decision, and that's final."

"Fuck you." Ran means it, but in his own way. "You said I could choose--"

"Not that," you say, so calmly, too fucking calmly for someone who managed to turn Ransom Drysdale into this, this thing that cares about something so petty for all the wrong--or just different--reasons.

He stretches to his full height and sucks on his tongue for a moment.

You continue to scroll through your phone.

He never thought he’d get married but he’s always loved a good party. Since the ring's not flashy, he wants you in the tiara. He hasn’t given you the ring yet either because…well, because it’s been less than a year and you practically live on the other side of the planet. Call him old-fashioned, but Ransom wants to be home for all the big things. He can plan a damn party though—and the look to match— whenever the hell he wants and for however long he wants.

At length in the quiet, he asks, "why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous, and I'm saying 'no.' Veto."

"You don't get vetoes for--" Ran smothers his frustration, but barely. "Does this have to do with...money? Because you know I’m not talking millions of dollars in real diamonds or something.” But, ya know, he’s expecting a couple hundred thou between colored and semi-precious stones, plus the setting in—would gold or platinum work best for your skin? Grandma Thrombey’s ring is made of yellow gold. Ran guesses he should match that.

The false calm never lifts from you.

Eyes icy and blank, you look at him while his plans keep running amuck. "No."

Two letters. One word. He fucking hates it.

"You'll look beautiful," he yells in annoyance.

The phone drops on the leather couch. "I'm not wearing a crown to be married in. It'll look pretentious, ostentatious. I won't do it and that's that."

"It's a tiara," Ran corrects, "and with a veil, it's near invisible. It’ll include the wedding colors with the stones."

"No."

His blood starts to boil. Don't say it, don't say it, he thinks fleetingly but fails.

"Says the woman with shit taste."

Slowly, calmly, coldly, you walk over to him, stretching to your full height, holding his gaze. You’re wearing one of his sweaters again and nothing else. That’s his favorite look, but only for him.

It’s winter outside, the heater turned up so that your naked skin stays comfortable. You stay comfortably exposed all the time, when he has his way. Comfort is king in Ran’s house. 

Despite being exposed though, he can see how you've made it so far in business—in life—even with shitty taste. Your poker face rivals champions, and you are stalwart in your dedication. There's a hard (and hardening) edge to your simple, sly grin.

You take a deep breath in,  a whiff of him, a sample for assessment.

"Poor--" you sigh "--boy."

His teeth grind together, jaw tight as a vice. How dare you.

Ran's petty, spiteful even when he tries so damn hard to keep it together, and the wound of disinheritance is still fresh enough he cannot abide that sting.

"Burn in hell."

You don’t take the bait and simply cock your head, waiting for his guilty meltdown. So far, he does this at least once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. It bothers you, you’ve told him, that he questions everything instantly, that he can’t trust you or your feelings or his surroundings, that he panics over the idea of ever having to get a job, but it’s also great ammunition against a man-child.

The grin never leaves your lips. You're in fine fighting form tonight. Ran shouldn't have tangoed.

"Go fuck some bimbo's ass."

Oh.

Oh, you bitch.

That's low.

Ransom's face contorts. "It was one time," he gripes, "and we weren't even dating."

Your palm lies flat against his chest. "We'd slept together several times, and you even volunteered for me by then so..."

Ran grabs your hips and brings you close, avoiding your gaze while hoping you keep looking at him, cooling him down, evening his hot temper.

"Of course," you add casually, "that wasn't the first time you did that, was it?"

This is where it gets tricky for him. Ran never had a real relationship before you--not even his 'bond' with his parents compares--but old habits die hard.

He shoves at your hips, spinning you two until your back hits the glass block window between the house and the bare woods outside.

His head ducks to mirror the angle of yours. "Doesn't have to be the last either."

"Hugh," you warn, as threatening as wind across his cheek.

He's gonna regret this. He knows he will, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Tell me. Tell me why you don't want to wear something gorgeous and fancy for an occasion where you are meant to be gorgeous and fancy."

The turn in your expression is pronounced. He didn't expect you to be more alarmed by his caring than his come-ons.

"Bad form," you finally admit. "Some rich bitch thinks she's a princess. Looks really bad."

"You are rich. You are a--"

"Careful..."

"--I'm saying 'princess.' Calm down," he says to the perfectly, eerily calm woman in his arms. "Would you just fucking let me compliment you?"

Ran fiddles with some hair around your ear, noting proudly how your eyes droop shut slightly at the smallest touch from him. He likes that you respond to him, his distance, his fury, his doubt, and his passion. You make feeling okay. You are his safe space since you've seen him at his lowest.

You see him.

There's very few things in life that make more sense to Ransom than his wife will be the one who sees him and he lets see him. Everyone else and everything else can piss off.

God, he fucking hates that he loves you so much. Why won’t you just wear the fucking crown? You’ve earned it; you’re the one who conquered his demons, not Ran.

He could buy it anyway, have your veil sown straight on it, not give you the chance to argue, or he could take you out to shop, put one in your hands, knock it onto the floor, and claim ‘you break it, you bought it.’ Problem solved, but he’s a petty bitch.

He tucks the edge of his lip into his cheek.

He should be less of a petty bitch.

“What do you want?” Ran asks. “What’s it gonna take?”

He keeps his sharp eyes locked to yours, watching understanding shrink your once-dilating pupils

Change in demeanor. “Oh my god.”

Aaaand there’s the regret. “Don’t make a big deal—“

“HOLY SHIT.”

“It’s not—I’m just—“

“Hugh Fucking Drysdale?! Trying to compromise??? I’ve see it all now.”

“Stop,” he whines, dropping his head to your squirming chest.

“Wait—” you whip out of his arms and hustle back to the couch, retrieving your phone “—do it again.”

He’s too lost in staring up the sweater as you bend over to notice right away.

“Are you filming me?” Disgusting. Childish. Petty, just like him. Maybe he’s had more influence on you than he realized.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Give me that.” Ran doesn’t put much effort into reaching the phone. He would rather win for his cause. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The arm held up falls lax. He has a clear view of your home screen, so you weren’t taking a video. You just wanted to tease him. Fuck, you love to tease him.

Dramatically, your hand frames your chin in thought. “Well, I don’t want something that extravagant to go to waste, but it won’t go with every outfit…”

“No, not with colored stones,” Ran says absently. He guesses you want to get more use out of it. Gross.

“Okay, my compromise is whenever I wear it, you treat me like a princess, or perhaps, your queen.”

“Uh, sure,” he snorts. You already get treated better than any woman he’s ever known…by him, of course. He’s vaguely aware that some people do even more than the bare minimum, but those are other people. Baby steps.

“If that tiara is on my head, Hugh, you become a perfect and adoring gentleman.”

Ran wrinkles his nose. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s my compromise. Dress me that way and you have to treat me like royalty.”

“Like…” He rushes forward to sweep you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting his hips. “Princess Pussy?”

“Ran. Ew, no.”

“Queen Cunt?” Heh, he chuckles, King Comfort and Queen Cunt. No, don’t say that out loud.

You gag slightly. “Super not what I meant.”

“You’re already going to marry me, but you want me to worship you? No fucking way.” Ransom flat-out laughs.

“How did you get worship out of ‘treat me nicely?’” Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling your faces closer.

He exaggerates a groan. “I don’t know. That’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, right,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep on being shitty…even to your future wife. What could possibly go wrong?”

He huffs.

Ran is passionate about making you look good, not just because you are on his arm. Sure, he probably focuses on all the wrong things—all the selfish things,—but you easily think of the big picture and completely forget about yourself.

That’s already a balance. That’s already a big compromise.

And yet…

Ran’s looking at your face and admiring your playfulness when he could be ordering you to unzip his pants. He’s more excited to see you decked out pretty things than he is to say he dressed you. He’s concerned with how you refuse to spend money for you even though you’ve put no restrictions on him. That’s…that’s just a different Ransom Drysdale. That’s a man he wouldn’t recognize if he weren’t watching his reflection in your eyes.

Ran pecks a gentle kiss to your waiting lips.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, his arms snaking tighter over your back and his fingers plunging into your hair. He keeps you close, noses touching, hot breath mingling. “Shh, shhh.”

He hears the faintest whine escape you, and he just can’t help himself. He’s a petty bitch.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck your ass.”

🙈🙇🏻‍♀️😝

sorry not sorry.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; The Root of All Ransom Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x you #flufftober 2023 #day 12 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #kinda

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Bounce for Me

Pairings | Ransom Drysdale x f!reader

Warnings | smut, dildos, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Ransom being an ass

Word count | 356

Summary | Ransom watches you get yourself ready for him

Masterlist

You whimpered, hips circling over the dildo again before you lifted yourself up with your thighs and sank back down. 

Ransom hummed, lips resting at the rim of his whiskey tumbler, a satiated smirk stretching from one cheek to the other. 

"That's it, honey. Keep goin'." He rumbled, voice low and smooth as silk as he purred at you. "Get that pussy nice an' open f'me." 

You whined into a moan, your hips tilting so the silicone toy nudged that spot deep inside you every time you bounced on it. 

He loved to make displays of you like this, hips bouncing for him and pussy dripping onto his floors - floors that the poor cleaners would have to mop up in the morning. 

Ransom had a stressful day at work, he'd told you upon entering the house, and all he wanted was to see his bunny get nice and wet for him. 

Whilst he sat sipping some overpriced whiskey. Grinning like a fox. 

"Good girl," he hummed, taking another slip. "You keep on goin' until I finish, sweetheart." He added, holding his glass out to you in a mock cheers. 

Your eyes widening, seeing that he still had half of the amber liquid left, you slowed your pace down. 

"Uh uh, sweet cheeks. I didn't tell you to slow down." Ransom chided with a little smirk. 

You groaned, pussy throbbing as you bounced on the dildo. Your clit was on fire, in desperate need of touch but you needed both your hands to balance on the wooden floor. 

"Just a few more minutes, babe." Random called from above you, and you mewled. 

He swirled the last sip around the tumbler, taking his sweet, sweet time in consuming the last drop. 

And when he did, he lowered the glass with a long, refreshed sigh. 

"C'mere, sweetheart." He rumbled, and you swallowed thickly at the sight of his skates, powerful thighs. 

You were in for a long night.

#ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey drysdale #chris evans one shot #chris evans fanfiction

[rubynationwins]

So You Want To Tango? Part 1 (18+)

Stepbro! Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!PlusSize! Reader (Soft!Dark!Ransom)

Summary: All you were trying to do was lose your v-card, was that too much to ask? Apparently so, according to your stepbrother.

Main Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Soft!Dark!Ransom, slight smut-a lot more in future part(s), swearing, ransom being an ass, kinda blackmail, unwanted groping/sexual harassment, choking, manhandling, humiliation, degradation, slut shaming, threats, virgin!reader, angst, mentions of self-deprecation/body issues. 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1,678

A/N: two posts in one day, who am I??? Damn, I’ve been writing a lot of chris evans’ characters being degrading, sexy assholes, but they are so??? I just really wanted to get this one out there bc I’m excited to start on the next part! Not sure how this will develop in terms of how many parts there will be; probably depends on if people are into this storyline ig. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

“Ransom, please!” You scampered after the tall, sweater-clad man as he stormed down the upper hallway. It was obvious where he was heading so you sped up your pace as fear and embarrassment flooded through your veins. 

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder as his patronizing reply bounced off the walls back to you. “No, sunshine! You act like a whore-” he swung open the doors of the second floor balcony and stepped into the dim light of the setting sun- “you get treated like a whore.”

You stopped short of the open doors, staring desperately at the bundle of clothing he held in his tight fist. In his other hand, he held your favorite pair of Brian Atwood sneakers. You looked back up at his face and saw his malicious smile. He was enjoying this.

You hesitated at the doorway, covering your bare tits with both arms, you still had on a pair of thin, lacy panties, but that didn’t make you feel any less naked. Shame coursed through your body as Ransom held his arm out, dangling your garments over the railing.

“Ransom, don’t-“

“Uh-uh, sunshine. If you want these back, you’re gonna have to beg.” His eyes gleamed with delight.

Yours brimmed with tears as you stared down at your shoeless feet. “P-please give me my clothes back, Ransom. I need them, I don’t have anything else to wear.” You hung your head low as you forced out the distraught plea. Ransom may have been an ass, but you never thought he’d go this far to humiliate you.

“Well, that was a piss-poor apology,” he scoffed. “Anyway, I think what you’re wearing now is perfect.” He threw one of your shoes over the railing and you leaped forward, reaching out your hands in a fruitless attempt to stop him. You did your best not to think about your now exposed breasts. The shoe squelched as it landed in a muddy puddle on the ground and you let out a muted wail. Before you covered your tits back up, you caught Ransom ogling the bare orbs without shame. He was the real whore.

“Ransom, stop, this isn’t a game! That one’s completely ruined now! At least give me back the other one,” you whined, not caring that you were making such a scene over a pair of shoes. But they weren’t just a pair of shoes, and he knew that.

“What does it matter? You have plenty of shoes, what makes these so special?” He twirled the other one in his hand, goading you. He knew exactly why they mattered– your mom had given them to you before she passed away three years ago, and you treasured anything of hers that hadn’t been tainted by his corrupt family. “If you’d really wanted them back, you would’ve gotten down on your knees and begged for forgiveness. Are you really too proud to apologize?”

Your head was still spinning with how quickly the evening had turned south. How was it that one moment you were about to finally lose your virginity to a guy you barely knew, and then the next, Ransom was busting down the door, throwing his own friend onto the street, and stealing your clothes away? And as what, some kind of punishment?”

“What do you mean ‘apologize’? What do I have to apologize for?”

He flung your other shoe over the edge and you let out a strangled cry of remorse. “You mean you don’t understand the damage your behavior has on my reputation? My own stepsister, fucking one of my sleazeball friends? In my own home? Are you too stupid to not know how your whorish actions reflect back on me? Not only have you proven how much of a cock-slut you are, but also how much empty space you’ve got in that pretty little head of yours.”

Now tears were streaming down your face. Your whole body quaked with barely contained fury, fueled by your hatred for your stepbrother. All you could do was put up an angry front to hide how much his criticism stung. “Jesus Christ! I was just trying to lose my fucking v-card! Which has nothing to do with you, by the way, but you had to be your usual narcissistic, selfish, unreasonably-controlling, hot-headed self! You’ve slept with too many women to count, and you’re gonna slut shame me?! You’re a fucking hypocrite, Ransom!”

Ransom’s face clouded with rage, but there were more emotions than that swirling in his shadowed expression. He stepped away from the ledge and tossed your clothes at your feet. Before you could crouch down to scoop them up, though, he reached forward and snatched up your jaw, holding you in place.

“First thing, sunshine, if you ever use that tone with me again, I will throw you out on the street, naked and hogtied.” You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine at his threat. “Second, I don’t give a rat’s ass about how many women I’ve slept with because you are not them and you are certainly not me, so your actions actually have consequences in this male-dominated world, which you should know by now.” 

His grip on your chin loosened and he reached his other arm around you and squeezed your plentiful ass. You squeaked but didn’t dare say anything in protest. You were terrified of his famously volatile temper. You knew just how cruel Ransom could be, and it went far beyond throwing some clothes off a balcony.

“Third thing, don’t give me that shitty, faux innocence game. We both know this ass has been around the block plenty. You’ve always taken after your mother.” At that, he narrowed his eyes and gave your ass a sharp slap. You yelped and tried to jump away, but he dug his hand in, kneading the plump flesh, keeping you close to his towering form.

You wanted to slap him and wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. How dare he talk about your mother that way, but part of you was distracted by how terribly good his fondling felt. On top of being a virgin in your twenties, you had next to none sexual experience of any kind. Unbidden by you, your body was reacting to the unfamiliar forceful touch. Especially when it came from Ransom of all people. He sent your blood boiling– both from his asshole behavior and from the electric tension you’d always felt in his presence.

You matched his gaze, hoping your watery glare hid the beat of your heat thrumming through your chest. “It’s not a lie, Ransom,” you noticed the sudden tick in his jaw at your words, but went on, “I’ve been sheltered my whole life– I went to a fucking all-girls Catholic school for christ’s sake. Plus, my social skills are shit, so my college life is far from the playboy, party lifestyle you like to maintain. It also doesn’t help that I have stretch marks and cellulite, while all the other girls I’m surrounded by are stick-thin and look like models. So excuse me for taking advantage of an opportunity to finally hook up with a ready and willing guy. But no! Respect for my boundaries doesn’t apply to the almighty Ransom Drysdale! Protector of my virginity, guardian of my love life! You know what, it was a mistake to try and fuck Tod here, guess I’ll just have to go over to his place to get the deed done. Then I can save us all the embarrassment.”

The hand gripping your jaw jumped to your neck and squeezed, his thick fingers pressing into the sides of your throat. He leaned closer, rage shimmering in his eyes. “I would rather lock you up in the basement and let you rot, then let that dick lay one fucking finger on you.”

His grip stayed tight around your neck and he closed the distance, pressing his front flush to yours. You tried to exclaim when you felt something poking at your nether regions, but any sound you attempted to make was shot down by his tight fist constricting your airways. Ransom’s lips hovered a hair’s breadth away from yours, his hot breath mingling with your own gasping pants.

 “I get it though, when you get to be your age without having a dick shoved up your needy little hole, you open your legs up to whatever comes your way.” He ground his hips into yours. You felt lightheaded from the lack of air and the blood rushing to your barely concealed center. “So, if you want to learn how to do the devil’s tango-” he finally released his grip on your throat, but before you could gulp down a breath of air, he tangled his hand in your hair and crashed his lips into yours.

It wasn’t even a kiss–not that you’d had many–it was teeth gnashing and tongues fighting and animalistic grunts and growls of long-hidden wants and forbidden pleasure. He pulled away with a satisfied groan. His lust-filled eyes looked crazed. He pushed on your ass to grind you against him further. You couldn’t hold back your moan when he rubbed against your clothed core. You were completely shocked and ashamed at your guttural reaction.

His pleased smirk spelled trouble and he leaned down again, his breath brushing your sensitive ear, and growled, “-then I’ll be happy to teach you how to dance like the slut you were always meant to be-” You mewled when he reached down and cupped your pussy, smashing his palm against your clit- “and show you who really owns this cunt: me.”

He patted your cheek and backed away, his eyes devouring every exposed curve and roll on full display for his pleasure. He palmed his cock over his designer slacks and winked. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.” His eyes shone with devious excitement. “Now put some clothes on. You look like a hooker.” With that, he sauntered past you, leaving you to sink in your own pit of disgust and guilt… and anticipation.

#ransom drysdale #stepbro!ransom drysdale #soft!dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x plus size reader #stepbro!ransom drysdale x reader #virgin!reader #soft!dark!ransom drysdale x plus size reader #ransom drysdale smut #plus size reader #plus size reader insert #chris evans character fanfic #chris evans #chris evans x plus size reader #Knives Out #ransom knives out #writing stuff #me #rubynationwins