#Dark Ransom

[shotgunbunny]

“But daddy I love him.” with crybaby! reader aka defending Ransom to your father and the soft kisses and sex afterwords and him saying how proud he is of you. Maybe he also makes you cry more bc he just loves your tears.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

WC:2k+ GIF by forchrisevans

I love love love this sm! I'm making this a dark ransom Au where he's a writer that's supa rich <3 A/n: I literally felt so bad for the dad in this fic why did I make the dad so sad man.

(Warnings!! Dark!Ransom!! Mentions of murder!! Smut!! Soft! Ransom!! tiny bit of angst!! Dirty talk!!)

You were excited for tonight. You were finally introducing you boyfriend to you parents. You weren't nervous as Ransoms cocky ways and charming nature eased your fears. He always had a way with words, maybe that's why he became a writer. You had tried to read one of his book before he pried it from your hands and began talking about how you wouldn't like the book, and because you loved him you trusted him.

You were absolutely oblivious to the fact that every book he wrote was centred around you. He wrote story after story about how after follow the woman of his dreams he finally had her and now he had to kill anyone who stood in his way. Half of his fans loved the books and the other half was terrified of Ransom and researching that all his girlfriends guy friends had died.

You sighed and stretched your limbs out on the king sized bed at Ransoms house. You turned and laid on him, drawing lazy flower patterns onto his chest. He looked at you softly, soaking in the attention you were offering him. "Ran?" He let out a deep hum before he brought his hand up to card through your hair. "Are you nervous for tonight?" He looked down at you and flashed you his winning smile.

"Not one bit baby, everyone loves me. Luckily you're the only one that has my love in return." And if they didn't love him, he'd set up there death as a car accident and sweep you off your feet into his house. He was ready with so many options so he wasn't nervous or scared. Instead he was curious to see what your parents reaction would be.

"Come on flower we best get up and get ready." You shook your head and settled firmly on top of Ransom. He chuckled at you and sat up. You clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist. He slid his strong arm under your ass and stood up looking down at you and kissing your nose softly. "Hmm I thought you were my flower but you're actually just my koala." You giggled and stretched your legs out. He placed you down gently, kissing you sweetly one last time.

Ransom headed towards his walk in wardrobe and pulled out the famous white cable knit sweater. He looked kinder in this, more homely. Soft as you'd say. You smiled at him and he smiled back at you. He pulled his pants on and you pulled on your little black dress that Ransom adored. It wasn't too short, it was just right. He stared at you doped up on his love for you before he attacked your face with kisses.

You felt so safe in Ransoms arms while he rained kisses all over you. And just like that all your potential worries disappeared into the night.

Ransom pulled up into the large gravel drive way and flashed you a smirk. He was used to snobby driveways, after all he stemmed from a rich family. You both got out and Ransom tutted at you mumbling about how he wanted to open you door for you like a gentleman. You both closed your doors and Ransom hurried over to you, holding your hand as you began walking to the front door.

You pressed the door bell and it was immediately opened by your mother rather than one of the house cleaners. You smiled at her and you beamed at you, and the glanced at Ransom. "Come in both of you! Dinner has just finished being made!" She rushed off and you looked at Ransom. He looked down at you and pulled your hand which was interlocked with his, up to his face where he placed a tender kiss on your knuckles.

You both took your shoes and coats off and you led him to the dinning room. Your mum was hurrying around playing plates down all the while your father sat still until he moved his head and stared at Ransom. Beside your dad was one of Ransoms book. You were so happy your dad had read some of Ransoms works, surely he'd like him.

Whilst in Ransoms mind he knew he was completely and utterly fucked. The look in your fathers eyes and the glimpse of the folded pages in the book proved that he knew that Ransom was not everything he seemed. Ransom could feel his heart hurt a small bit, he knew that when the 'accident' happens you're gonna weep your little heart out and it will be all because of him. And for a split second, Ransom wished that there was another way instead of that but there wasn't. So he swallowed down the heart ache he'll suffer and sat down at the table.

Your father stared at him while your mother and you chirped happily about you day. You began digging into you meal as did you mum, both of you still nattering oblivious to the staring match between your dad and Ransom. He flashed him a gentle smile, a peace treaty almost, and began digging into the meal. "This is absolutely amazing Ma'am." Your mum blushed and thanked him.

As you were all dining your dad finally spoke, still staring at the sick bastard in front of him. "Hey honey, have you ever read any of Ransoms works?" You looked up and blinked noting the angry look burried in his eyes. "No, they're not my kinda thing." You turned to look at Ransom and flashed him a smile which he returned.

"Well you should honey. There's this one character in here that's exactly like your old friend. And he died the exact same way as he did." You dropped you fork and stared at your dad. Shocked that he would ever bring that up let alone try and claim Ransom had something to do with it. "Why would you say that?" Your dad turned his harsh glare towards you.

"I know you're not the brightest honey, but he's a goddamn sociopath! He's insane! I don't want you seeing him anymore!" You stood up shocked by your dad's behaviour, Ransom stood up too and left the room, he began getting his shoes and coat on when he heard your cries. He peaked around the corner and saw tears streaming down your face. "But daddy I love him! He would never hurt me! And he knows that if he hurt anyone I loved, it would hurt me! So how can you even suggest that!"

Ransom felt his heart hurt, he remembered holding you everynight while you were grieving your friends. God knows how much it would hurt when you had to grieve your parents. God he would do anything to avoid that outcome. "How stupid are you?! He's a murderer! He killed your friends claiming it was a sick and twisted version of love!"

You swallowed down a sob and bit back at him for these insane accusations. "I never want to see you again! You won't get an invite to our wedding or meet your first grandchild! Not until you apologize to the man I love!" You dad scoffed, tears in his eyes yet he was holding back. You mother was openly weeping. The pause lasted too long cementing your choice in choosing Ransom. You walked out and bumped into him. He hugged you and you got ready and left.

The second you were in the bedroom, Ransom was kissing you, softly sweetly. Every part of him was gently. Even as you began undressing each other, he treated you delicately. Not wanting to illicit tears, not yet. Because they'd be sad tears, not tears of ecstacy.

He kissed along your legs, allowing his hands to gently trail up your thighs before they splayed out on your hips. He moved his head up, and blowed along your wetness. Adoring the little flutter of your hips and the breathy moan that escaped your pretty mouth. He licked gently, slowly. Torturing you yet he was appreciating your taste, trying to put it into words. He went back for a second taste before he centred on your clit, he moved his hands then. Dragging one down towards your hole with a feather light tight before he plunged one finger in and then another. His other hand trailed up taking a breast in his hand.

He looked up and saw the beauty that was you, your head tilted back while moans escaped you like a desperate song. He flicked your nipple before he began gently circling it with his thick digit. While you were preoccupied with the stimulation of your nipple, Ransom plunged another finger into you before he pulled away completely.

He felt the need to be even more submerged in this moment of pleasure with you. He leaned down and captured your lips in his. Holding you close towards his body. You felt him move his tip up and down your slit, you could feel his precum mix with your own wetness. He stopped and places his cock against your hole. He stared down at you as if you were the world itself. "I love you so much." And with that he applied pressure and his cock slipped in with a pop. He slowly pushed down until he was fully settled in you.

You caught your breath after Ransom knocked it out of you by entering you. You stared at him and pressed you lips together, completely enthralled by him. By his declaration of love. He slowly began thrusting and pulled away, allowing for your shallow breathing to sink. "My angel, you did so good for me. Defended my name. Defended me. God you are worth every ounce of my love and more. Fucking perfect tight pussy. Was made for me by the Gods." You felt tears gather in your eyes at his words. He began thrusting faster.

His slid his hand down and began to circle your clit, watching with pride blooming in his chest as your tears slide down your face. You were embracing the ultimate pleasure of his cock and the result was something so beautiful that he couldn't even fathom how you weren't worshipped. He leaned down and licked your tears before pressing his forehead to yours and watching more tears stream down your face.

"Fuck you're so good to me baby, so fucking good. This pussy treats me so well too. Fucking grips my cock so well. Would worship this cunt, would worship you. So good baby."

He couldn't help it he took his hand away from your button and instead wrapped it around you throat, fucking you with vigor over the sight before him. Tears streaming down your face, his hand tight around your throat and your breasts bouncing. "Fuck! My little crybaby, you look perfect like this. Need this in a picture. Fucking beautiful. You deserve to be fucked like this baby." He leaned down and licked the tears off your face all the while holding your throat tighter making your face slowly bloom red over the lack of air flow. "Fuck it looks like you're crying diamonds. I'll get you a diamond, get you one for your dainty finger." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

Before he pulled away and squeezed tight on your throat and began pounding you so fast that it took only 5 thrusts before you convulsed on his cock and bucked you body up desperate to be free from his hands yet also enraptured in your orgasm. Ransom came seconds after. The tightness of your cunt and the beauty of you was enough to push him past his limit. His hips stuttered and he came, some of it inside you before he pulled out and coated you in it. He pulled his hand off your throat, embracing truly how amazing you were.

You laid catching your breath just barely recognising Ransom getting you water and a towel to clean you up. After that was all done he got in bed and you cuddled with him. Your head on his chest while his arm held you protectively. "You did so good for me baby, I'm so proud of you." You batted your eyelashes at him, utterly soft for his praise. "I did?" He smiled and kissed your forehead. "Absolutely my love, I'm so happy baby because of you. I'm gonna put a ring on you, that's how proud I am of you." You giggled and cuddled closer into him. "We'll see bear." And with that you fell into a peaceful sleep.

Ransom grabbed his phone and cancellation off the plan of the 'accident'. Instead he would wait for your dad to crack under the pressure. Especially when everyone else in the family got a wedding invite except him. Ransom was happy truly, there would be no more blood on his hands and now he could focus purely on you.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Family Affair

Chapter 3

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don't bite! Thank you

Summary: Harlan's money ruled the world of your husband and in-laws. When Harlan cuts his family off the rift between siblings grows larger and you are somehow caught in the middle.

Warning: Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! There is potentially triggering stories ahead. Slow Burn

Dark Ari x Reader, Dark Ransom x Reader (Pregnant reader)

🍼

The paper gown crinkles beneath you as you shift, its sterile chill pressing into your skin. The fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead, casting a stark, clinical glow that makes every edge and shadow feel sharper, magnifying the emptiness of the room. You rest a hand on the edge of the paper sheet, fingers tracing its texture, trying to steady the nerves pooling in your stomach.

Ari had promised to be here. But here you are, and he isn’t. It’s like he’s still overseas. Nothing has changed.

The door clicks open, and you turn, feeling a flicker of hope before it dies. It’s not him.

Ransom steps in, filling the space with his usual careless confidence. He casts an idle glance over the instruments lined up on the tray, ignoring your look of shock and frustration.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur, your voice low, hoping the simple act of curling inward might shield you from him.

“Where's the doc?" he asks, voice dripping with boredom.

“He’s coming.” You sit up a little straighter. “I don’t know why you’re here, but you shouldn’t be. Just go,” you hiss.

“And leave my sweet sister-in-law all alone? Nah.” He smirks.

“Ari… he should be—”

Ransom scoffs and starts rummaging through the cabinets, noisily. “Don’t be stupid. You know as well as I do he’s not coming.” His voice is curt, and you feel your hope slipping. Deep down, you know he’s probably right. But part of you still wants to believe he’ll show up, even if you know the truth.

Your eyes start to sting, a familiar ache in your chest. You blink back the tears, turning away before they can fall.

"And how exactly are you getting home, hm?” He snorts. “I heard that piece-of-junk Civic of yours is broken down, so you must’ve taken the bus. There’s three inches of snow outside. That’s not happening.”

“I’ll call Linda.”

“So, not my brother then?” he quips, quick and cutting. “Guess he’s too busy to be here for his pregnant wife. Probably has his nose so far up the old man’s ass that you’re the last thing on his mind.”

He moves to another cabinet, rummaging around with a casual disregard. You try to ignore him, you still have a sliver of hope. Ari was probably running late,maybe due to the snow. You’d made this appointment especially for him to share in this moment.

A gentle knock breaks through, and you exhale. You press a hand to your stomach, as if to soothe both the tension and the tiny life inside you.

“Sorry I’m late; another appointment ran a little over,” Dr. Rogers says as he enters, clipboard in hand, his smile a welcome reprieve.

Ransom doesn’t miss a beat. “You always this late?” he mutters, shooting the doctor a sideways glance. But Dr. Rogers keeps his calm, focusing on you, his expression softening.

“My apologies,” Dr. Rogers says. “An emergency ran over.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you say quickly, trying to defuse the tension.

Dr. Rogers glances at Ransom, brow slightly raised. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disturb the equipment. Thank you," he says smoothly before turning back to you, his professional demeanor firmly intact.

“Nice to see you again,” he says to you warmly. “And may I ask who we have joining us today?”

“Her husband,” Ransom lies smoothly moving closer to your side.

You glare at him, holding back the urge to confront him right here. Why he’s doing this, you have no idea.

“Well, nice to finally meet you,” Dr. Rogers replies, a thin veneer of professionalism barely masking his judgment. “I’ve heard so much about you. Glad you could finally make time. She’s been quite brave without you.” He gives you a gentle smile. “I heard you were overseas for charity work?”

“Uh, yeah, I just think it’s important to make a difference in the world. I’ve done some volunteer work abroad… hands-on stuff, really rewarding,” Ransom says, voice oozing self-importance. You arch a brow at him. The only person he’s ever cared for is himself.

Dr. Rogers nods. “I hope she’s kept you up to date on her progress. Though I haven’t seen her in quite some time.” His comment is directed at you, and you bristle uncomfortably.

“Sorry… I’ve just been so busy with work.”

“It’s quite alright, as long as you make time now,” Dr. Rogers says. “Now, enough with the small talk. How about we get started?”

🍼

The gel that hits your belly is colder than ice. You try not to squirm, but the added pressure from the ultrasound wand makes it hard to stay still.

Normally, you’d feel embarrassed by the stretch marks that decorate your belly, but that’s the last thing on your mind now. Your gaze is locked on the grainy image on the screen. The figure is hard to make out, but you’re sure it’s your baby. The sight makes your heart flutter, your breath hitch. Ransom leans in, watching closely. You wish it were Ari instead. But you push that thought aside; this moment is too precious. The tiny, pure creature growing inside you doesn’t need your negative feelings toward its father.

“Oh,” the doctor murmurs, pausing with the scanner. Your heart drops, and your mind races with bad thoughts.

“What? Is something wrong?” you ask, voice tight.

“Calm down, everything’s fine,” he assures you, though his tone doesn’t quite ease your worry. You search the monitor, trying to spot whatever he noticed.

“Your initial scan was so early that we didn’t catch it,” he explains. “But if you look here…”

He points at the screen, and Ransom leans in further. “This little one was hiding in the back.”

“Twins,” Ransom says, realization dawning before it fully sinks in for you. The word hits you, and you feel lightheaded. One baby was going to be a challenge—but now two.

🍼

Getting into Ransom’s car feels like willingly stepping into a trap, the cramped interior of his Porsche a cruel reminder that this choice, though far from ideal, beats standing in the biting cold. But at least the creamy leather seats are soft, molding around you with a warmth that eases some of the strain, even as the seat-belt presses a bit too snugly against your belly, already stretched and sensitive.

As he slips into the driver’s seat, you can’t help but wonder why he’s even here. Maybe it has to do with Harlan and his money. You wouldn’t be surprised if the old man offered him a deal—to be nicer to the family in exchange for not being cut off. After all, Harlan’s money was the only reason your husband was back in the country so you wouldn’t be surprised.

Ransom starts the engine, the low hum of the Porsche vibrating beneath you. He glances over with that familiar smirk of his, the one that never quite reaches his eyes.

"Hungry?" he asks, his gaze flicking over your stomach with that casual, insipid interest. "Guessing that baby bump means you’re always hungry, huh?"

You press your lips together. Swallowing the bite of irritation that wants to rise. “Can you please just drop me home?”

"Don’t be a brat," he shoots back, his voice laced with mock sweetness. "You're eating for two… or three now, right?"

You can’t tell if he’s pretending to care or just seizing the chance to slip in as many fat jokes as possible.

“I have food at the house,” you mutter, turning away from him, eyes on the snow drifting outside, unable to block out his presence completely.

"Stop acting like you're so eager to go back to that shit hole." His voice like a quiet knife, cutting through whatever calm you manage to hold on to.

"Ari—"

He scoffs, cutting you off, his tone dripping with something you didn’t care to dissect. "You know as well as I do, you're the last thing on his mind."

You flinch. Pregnancy had a way of making you feel everything too sharply, and his words were no different. The vulnerability that had been building for months threatens to break free. You try to hold it back, but it wasn’t enough. A sniffle escapes. Then another.

“Oh, god.” His voice was low, almost gleeful. "You’re still in love with that asshole. Really?"

You don’t respond. Instead turning more toward the window, holding back another sniffle, hiding your puffy eyes from his judgmental eyes.

You hear him sigh as the Porsche surges forward, the engine purring in protest. Outside, the world blurs into white, snow piling on the road slick with ice. Ransom cuts through it all like he doesn’t have a care in the world. And knowing him, he probably doesn’t.

"Can you slow down, please?" you ask, your voice brittle in the tense silence.

He ignores you. The landscape streaks past, your heart pounding faster with every lurch of the car. Every bump feels like it might send you airborne, your fingers digging into the cold leather as you brace yourself.

“Come on," Ransom says finally, the words almost a sneer. “We need to celebrate the twins. I know this nice little Italian spot downtown. Fettuccine to die for.”

“Ransom!” you squeal, panic bubbling up as the Porsche swerves dangerously. He cut off an eighteen-wheeler, and the truck’s horn bellows through the air like a warning.

He glances over, but there was no trace of concern in his face, just a little amusement. “Now you know better than to call me that.”

The speed and the chaos makes your chest tighten. You stare at him, wide-eyed, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Come on," Ransom presses, ignoring the mounting fear. "What are you in the mood for? Huh?"

“I’m fine. Just… please, just take me home," you whisper, trying to control the sob that was threatening to escape.

“Don’t be stupid,” he spits. You scream his name, and his only response was to rattle off more options.

“There's this great little Greek place on Oak.”

“Rans—” You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Hughe! Please!”

“Fine. Takeout it is.”

Ransom jerks the car off the highway without warning, red lights zooming closer in a blur. The screech of the tires sends your heart up into your throat. But as he slows, your stomach sinks. The torment isn’t over.

[planetallure]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

[biteofcherry]

Don't need your name to own you

dark fae!Ransom Drysdale x female reader

summary: You're not interested in anything personal the Scaretale offers. You just want to see it from the inside. Then, once your curiosity is sated, you're going home. But you forgot what curiosity did to the cat...

warnings: dark fae!Ransom; dark!Ransom; dub-con; drugging of sorts; power imbalance; dirty talk; Master/pet undertones (but no pet play); degradation mixed with praise; humiliation; brief F/F/F; oral (f receiving); rimming; fingering; forced orgasm; squirting; anal play; anal sex, unprotected sex;

word count: 5.6k

Author’s Note: Fae isn't exactly a monster, but it's still very fitting for the Scaretale universe 😎 Especially with how wicked and devious Ransom is. It's definitely dark, even if it feels light and almost playful, too. It's how the fae get you😏 Also, this is the very first time I wrote something so long for Ransom! But I have to admit that I had fun writing this devious, kinky Ran. I know @stargazingfangirl18 is doing a happy dance about it, lol.

To the tiniest button, to the last line, to the very detail - preparation was something you excelled at. It gave you a sense of control, too. Which, in turn, boosted your confidence. 

If you were prepared, nothing would surprise you. 

It’s why you researched Scaretale for over six months; following not only the online reviews, gossip, or comments from people and monsters who attended, but also spending hours upon hours in the library and online archives. You browsed everything there was about fae and their customs.

Since the Scaretale was founded and owned by a fae, you figured it had to be created and ruled by the fae magic. Learning about it as much as you could was a smart move if you wanted to enter the club. 

And you wanted to.

It tempted you.

Not for the reasons most of the people went there - to search for love, or to taste the spicy taboo. No, you were curious. So achingly, annoyingly curious. 

You wanted to walk in there, soak up the atmosphere and observe. Your thoughts often derailed, wondering how the interactions inside the club looked like. Was it a full on debauchery (so cliche), or maybe so similar to a human club (how disappointing)? 

You’ve put a lot of thought into choosing your wardrobe, making sure to not pick anything too revealing as to not attract too much attention. As well, nothing too modest, because to some monsters that was even more appealing, with the whole innocence and fragility concept. 

You weren’t going there to fill anyone’s lust. Only to sate your own curiosity. 

By now you knew the exterior of the club by heart, having walked by it so many times and admiring the details. It had that enchanting allure of a building that stood out from all the others, veiled in mystery that one couldn’t resist unraveling. Like the abandoned, or supposedly haunted houses in the movies, where kids dared each other to knock on the door. Though Scaretale looked less creepy and more magical. 

There were big, stained-glass windows, yet nothing could be seen through them. Not even in the late evening when the colorful glass glowed from the inside, but no shadows passed, no silhouettes were visible. As if the windows were only a decoration and not a means to give view either way. 

Curved vines, with detailed leaves and thorns, weaved around the entrance. The door, too, seemed to be made from delicate, thickly woven ivy, though to the touch it was sturdy like steel. 

The door opened easily, just from a single push. They closed behind you soundlessly. 

Pleasant warmth welcomed you. Not too stifling like in most clubs, but rather reminiscent of a summer evening when the warmth lingers, but leaves room for evening freshness. 

A softest kind of breeze brushed around your ankles and up your legs, like the faintest touch of gentle hands. It teased your collarbones and swept up your neck to flick a sensitive spot behind your ear. It evoked your surprised, tiny gasp.

That sensation wasn’t palpable enough for you to startle and search for invisible hands, but it piqued your already high curiosity. 

Was it a welcome every human who entered received? Or maybe the sensations upon arrival were attuned individually? 

Or was it just your own imagination?

If your unsatisfied curiosity was pulsing earlier, now it raged with hunger. You barely kept your pace slow, while all you wanted was to immediately check every nook, study every creature, taste and touch every single detail. 

That would draw unnecessary attention. Which you didn’t need. You wanted to snoop around undisturbed. 

And definitely not becoming someone’s interest. 

Feigning nonchalance, you cast long glances at each booth and the monsters occupying it. A group of orcs, who were attempting to be politely quieter than their booming voices allowed. Two vampires, both more occupied with their sleek phones than with the pretty waitress who brought their wine. Though it seemed she had one of the orcs watching her every move.

At first, even at a second glance, it appeared that Scaretale was a boring, high end type of club where everyone was behaving themselves and only considering courting someone who caught their eye. 

But you felt that raw, intense pulsing in the air. A tension that wasn’t about to break into violence, but rather into a primal chase and claiming. 

That elegant veneer veiled a lethal doom. 

Your blood rippled with a wave of thrill. Just adrenaline, you told yourself as your instincts tensed in anticipation. 

Your gaze shifted back and forth, across the endless room, over every booth and nook and iron-wrought railings cutting off a few alcoves. Any moment now someone could snap. Any monster was bound to leap and find their prey, who would yield willingly, or put up a fight. To some, the prey would crawl over - mesmerized, enchanted, or simply so desperate. 

A venus flytrap.

The club, you realized, was like a pulsing, living entity that lured humans in with sweet poison of mystery and promises of love; only to trap them the moment a predator lurking within decided to claim them. 

You moved forward, toward the glowing oval bar that stood in the center of the grand space. As you approached, you felt your mouth going dry, your throat aching for a drop of liquid. Frowning, you forced yourself to swallow your own saliva. 

Scaretale belonged to a fae. A dark fae. There was no way you were going to eat or drink anything served here.

That’s how people bound themselves to the fae. At least according to most legends. Even if it was an exaggerated lore, you preferred not to find out for yourself. 

A blue haired woman minded the bar. She moved gracefully, floating from one end to the other in dance-like steps. Her smile was gentle, not a fake one forced to appease customers. She paused for a second as you neared the countertop, lips parting as if to ask what you wanted to drink. Before she uttered a single sound, her mouth closed and she twirled away, ignoring you completely.

You were about to study the short encounter, wondering why unexpected rudeness happened, but a different presence entered your personal space.

You felt a peculiar tickling grazing your skin, like tiny drops of carbonated drink bursting around your mouth and nose when you took a first sip of freshly opened soda, or champagne.

It wasn’t an overwhelming body heat you’d expect from most monsters, nor a piercing coldness a vampire might give off. This man’s aura was fresher. Like a stream weaving through the midsummer forest.

“Ain’t you a curious little creature?” His voice drawled in a soft, velvety mockery. 

Eyes still glued to the empty space where the bartender stood a few seconds ago, your body froze on the spot the second the mysterious man invaded your personal space. 

As his voice reached you, your curiosity yanked you into movement. 

You had to see who it was.

Your eyes found themselves on level with a male chest. Not the broadest, if you compared it to some other monsters in the club that night, but corded with lean muscles. His shirt was a pearly white, similar to satin, or maybe silk. Definitely expensive. Tiny, golden buttons on it were fucking monogrammed. 

Your gaze slowly dropped down, where his waist narrowed into tight hips and long, long legs (clad in equally expensive pants). His arms hung loosely at his sides, forearms exposed where the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up. 

His skin was fair, a faint glow caught deep beneath the skin surface. What instantly caught your attention and filled you with an alarming sensation, were the black tips of his fingers. Color darkest at the fingertips, gradually fading as it went down his knuckles and into his palm.

Not just black, but a night sky ink that seemed to shimmer a dark dust in the blackness.

A dark fae! 

Your gaze snapped up to his face. Most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. Even with the smirk curving his lips, which would usually annoy you in any human male. 

Not a single feature of his face seemed flawed, or in disharmony. His irises were a crystalline blue, but the longer you stared into them the more it appeared that all changes in the sky were reflected in the fae’s eyes. 

“You know what curiosity did to a cat, right? And yet you’re here.” He gave an almost disappointed sigh, but amusement sparked his eyes and his smirk didn’t ease an inch. 

“A stubborn little, human tabby,” he chuckled, giving you a once over. 

It was merely a flick of gaze and for some reason you knew it was only for show, because this man had been studying you for longer. Possibly, his attention was on you the whole time you thought yourself to be unnoticed as you explored the club.  

You licked your lips nervously, but still straightened your back and titled your chin up in defiance. 

“Humans are allowed here.” You bit back. “Encouraged to come, even.”

“Humans who seek a partner, yes.” He replied. His beautiful, tempting lips were ready to say more when you interrupted-

“Who says I’m not looking for one?” You crossed your arms over your chest, attempting for fake confidence to hide the simple urge to test everything. 

“You’re looking for trouble, Tabby.” The fae tutted in a soft warning. “You’ve been after it for weeks. Every single day walking around the building and learning its details with a deep hunger that a desperate slut has for her Master’s cock.”

Fire blazed up within you, scorching your skin from the inside and melting low in your abdomen. 

You weren’t sure if it was his dirty metaphor that ignited the reaction, or the scary fact that he was aware of your investigation. Of every single time you strolled around the building and watched it. 

“Since you’re so passionate about Scaretale and I’m the owner, I thought it’s only polite that I attend to your needs personally.” 

Clear sky in his irises dimmed into dusk, with blue so dark and seductive you couldn’t look away. Or perhaps it was his words that gripped you in a vice, shocking with the innuendo, but oh so tempting with it, too. 

His curled forefinger lodged beneath your chin. Then his thumb pressed to the front of it, trapping you in a grip that only seemed gentle. 

“Why don’t you give me your name, Tabby?” He coaxed and your tongue instinctively moved to roll out the answer. 

Thankfully, the cautious part of your brain was still working and you caught the side of the spiderweb he almost launched you into. 

“Nuh-uh.” Tip of your tongue flicked out to lick your bottom lip - a move that the fae caught with growing interest. “I know your kind’s tricks. I’m not going to fall for it and just give myself away to be bound. And before you offer, I won’t accept any food, or drink, either.”

You expected irritation. Anger that his smooth act didn’t work on you, while you bet so many would fall for his charm and flirting alone. Especially, since a man like that one rarely got denied anything he wanted. Fae or human, men of power and wealth were all the same in that department. 

Instead, he smiled. There was something wicked to the way his lips curved and his eyes glinted with amusement. Even the crinkles that formed around his eyes didn’t ease the growing uneasiness deep in your gut. 

“So clever.” He hummed, slowly dragging his thumb toward your lips. 

He drew a line below the bow of your mouth first, then a warm pad touched your pouty lip and brushed along it. 

It felt as if that touch grazed your clit. 

He rubbed your bottom lip again and your thighs clenched in a foolish attempt to prevent the sensation teasing your nub. 

Your body had always been quite responsive, though the fae might have been the first man to get your pussy started just from the way he played with your mouth.

“You can call me Ransom,” he offered his name, without any tricky games. Or so you thought. “Or-” he paused, for the third time brushing his thumb along your lip- “your Master.”

His hand withdrew, leaving a warm print on your chin and a tingling sensation on your bottom lip. It took your brain a second to register his words fully. Another second for your rebellion to fire up and react.

“My Master?!” You snorted in faint rage, hating how saying those words sent a jolt down your spine.

Your tongue poked out to lick the aftertaste of his touch. But it felt like there was an actual taste following, first coating your tongue then swallowed with your saliva. A little sweet, fizzing like pop-rocks. 

Staring into Ransom’s eyes, you were focused on the touch of his thumb itself. Never expecting, or imagining the trail of sparkling black dust from his fingertips leaving traces on your lips. 

Which you licked. And swallowed. 

There was no dizziness, nor complete loss of limb movement, yet your whole body became pliant and hot. Fascination with the dark fae grew into devotion, eagerness to follow him. To please him. 

“See, my fiery Tabby,” Ransom’s eyes blazed inhuman blue. “I don’t need your name to own you.” 

“You tricked me!” You accused him, but couldn’t make yourself run away from him. Quite the contrary, you itched to snuggle into his arms and purr like the kitten he nicknamed you.

“I am a dark fae.” He laughed. Then he stepped even closer, your body touching his and reacting to the proximity with increasing need. His knuckles caressed your cheek, before his hand dipped lower and his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“Now, give me your name. As you will give me everything I ask for, anyway.” 

Your name rolled out on your tongue without any resistance. Your eyelids fluttered close when Ransom rewarded your obedience with barely whispered praise and mouth nearing yours. His lips almost touched yours, holding you on the precipice until you nearly whined. 

With a triumphant chuckle, he withdrew. Your eyes opened when he snapped his fingers. 

A heartbeat later two women appeared at your sides. Both with skin glowing from within, stunning and perfect. And almost naked. They had warm smiles and mischief sparkling in their eyes. 

“Meet Dusk and Dawn.” He introduced the two fae, then directed an order at them - “Take her to my chambers and prepare her.” 

“Prepare?!” You squeaked when the women simply hooked their arms with yours and began leading you, like a group of friends might support each other when walking after a few drinks. 

“Be a good girl, Tabby.” Ransom grinned. “Do as they say. I’ll be with you in a moment and sate some of that curiosity of yours.”

“Yes, Master.” It spilled out of your mouth, before your brain even registered what you were saying. 

Ransom laughed at your shocked expression and the embarrassment that followed. 

Dusk and Dawn lead you across the club, toward the far back where the space diverted in three ways. Left and right corridors were swarmed with darkness, but the middle one was pulsing with an unusual glow. They took you to the central one. 

A few steps down the corridor and an ornate, double winged window marked its end. Nothing was visible through it, beside the yellow-green light. As they pushed you through it, like through a dry waterfall, your feet landed on a carpet so plush and dark green, it might as well be moss. 

Wait, was it moss? 

The walls of the bedroom seemed solid, no trees suddenly sprouting from anywhere. But the dark jewel tones reminded the core of the woods. An explicitly large bed stood in the middle - a frame carved of dark wood, with a canopy weaved off gauzy fabrics and live vines and so many fairy lights. 

You squeaked when the women started tugging on your clothes. They skilfully dodged your hands when you attempted to swat them away, moving fast and light like fireflies. One of them reminded you that Ransom asked you to listen and instantly that pull to obey made you cease your fight. 

A part of you hated that automatic obedience, every rebellious streak in you fussed and stomped against it. But there was also that damn side of you, which was kinda fascinated with it.

Was whatever you tasted on your lips enough to bind you to a fae? What belonging to him would entail? How deeply your body’s reactions would attune to Ransom’s commands? 

The fae spread you on the bed, cooing at you when you sank into the soft linens with a contented sigh. Their lips were warm and gentle as they kissed your exposed skin, stirring your arousal. 

You’ve never been with a woman. There was some curiosity towards it, but never an actual attraction to study it deeper. Now two were playing with your body against your will, as if you were a kitten for their amusement. 

And for the Master’s. 

The thought of Ransom joining you in that bed made you shiver. Your gaze fitted on the slopes of the soft canopy hanging above, but you imagined his face filling your vision as he settled on top of you. Between your thighs. 

A reluctant moan bubbled on your lips when Dusk parted your legs and with a giggle chased sweet kisses up your inner thighs. 

Dawn closed her mouth around your nipple, plucking the other with her fingers. 

You felt overwhelmed. Your body roused, your pussy was tingling, but you were also embarrassed, helpless, and in the back of your head still huffed that resistance. 

“Nooo!” You whined, back arching, when Dusk’s tongue licked into your seam. 

“Yes,” came an unyielding reply. 

Your head lifted from the pillows, finding Ransom standing at the foot of the bed, watching your body being pleasured. Being prepared. For him. 

He started to unbutton his shirt, lazily. All the while holding your gaze and with a triumphant look drinking in all of your expressions and sounds. He watched as Dawn kissed and licked all over your breasts and belly; as your hips rocked eagerly into Dusk’s mouth when she sucked on your clit. 

“Dusk is really talented with her mouth.” Ransom complimented the other fae, who in return parted your folds with her fingers and began licking and kissing all over your dripping pussy. “You should thank her, Tabby.”

You whined, scrunching up your nose and refusing to comply. Which made Ransom chuckle at your defiance. 

He walked to the side of the bed, one knee dipping into the mattress as he leaned across to grip one of your legs. He brought it outwards and up, opening you wider. 

There were no words spoken, but perhaps they had some telepathic communication, or maybe they’ve done this dance before - because the moment Ransom had you spread wider, your pelvis slightly tipped up, Dusk’s tongue delved down. 

Toward your tight rim.

“Oh fu-!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut at the humiliation. 

Fae’s tongue circled your tight hole, teasing it and evoking unknown sensations. Then she wiggled it in, giggling when your pussy clenched in return, dripping more of your slick. And Ransom was watching it with growing hunger; his burning gaze focused on the shiny mess between your buttocks as Dusk licked and spit onto your asshole. 

Dawn pinched your nipples playfully for the last time, then crawled across you. Without prompting, she unzipped Ransom’s pants and pushed it down his legs. Slipping off the bed, she helped him out of the clothes completely. 

Not once did she touch him, however. 

The second Ransom was completely naked, Dusk pulled away from between your legs. Her grin was wicked, her lips shiny with your wetness and she licked it with a broad swipe, winking at you playfully.

Both fae women left the bedroom, but you didn’t pay attention to where they were going. Your focus shifted completely to Ransom, who was now fully naked and moving towards you. 

Your gaze slid from his beautiful face, down his unblemished torso. Like you assumed, he wasn’t a beefy kind of man, but there was a chiseled structure of muscles speaking of speed and stealthy kind of strength.

A tattoo of intricate vines weaved all around his pelvis; leaves and branches dipping down the V cut and running down his cock, too. 

Usually you wouldn’t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but that fae’s was… 

It was long and nicely thick, a pretty flush color that gradually darkened into the same sparkling black as the tips of his fingers. 

Would his cum be as drugging as the dust from his fingers? 

Ransom knelt between your lewdly spread thighs. His gaze lingered on where you were soaked and pulsing with need. His fingers brushed your thighs, then skimmed up your belly and over your breasts. When he pinched your nipples, it was more mean than how Dawn treated you.

Still, your chest arched and you hissed in pleasure. 

One of his hands moved upwards, teasing your neck and then bracketing your face. He squeezed your cheeks and leaned closer. A strand of silky, dark blond hair fell across his forehead, adding a boyish charm to an otherwise lethally beautiful creature. 

Ransom’s breath tickled your lips, his mouth hovering so close to yours. He let your lips brush lightly. Again and again, but not pressing harder. Until you squirmed under him and pushed against his hold to finally taste that wicked mouth. Would he taste like pop-rocks the way his dust did? 

“To you I’ll taste like ambrosia, my feisty pet.” Ransom murmured, and you were unsure if he could read your mind, or if you blurted the question aloud. “I’ll taste like your last meal. Like all you ever want to have on your tongue for the rest of your life.” 

“And when I break you-” he added, his deceivingly velvety voice more alluring than scaring- “you’ll never want to experience anything else but the pleasure and humiliation coming from your Master.”

Your brain fogged. Your body shivered with growing need, becoming restless the longer he denied you that fate. 

It wasn’t all due to his magic. That curious spirit of yours was eager to find out how many sensations he could expose you to, how it would feel to belong to a dark fae. 

“Master,” you breathed out a plea. 

“Vow you belong to me.” Ransom demanded, tightening his grip.

“I belong to you. I give myself to you.” Somehow your tongue knew which words to say and the moment they bubbled out, your body filled with a certain awareness. Like an alert humming beneath your skin, attuned to the presence of the man above you.

It wasn’t just arousal anymore, or fascination. The need to be near him, to please him in any possible way, to be used, has taken root inside of you. 

It illuminated with the power of the sun, filling you with warmth and ecstasy, when Ransom rewarded your pledge with a kiss. A sinful play of lips tasting of midsummer dreams and tongue teasing yours with promises of taboo. 

When he pulled back, you looked at him in daze and admiration. Your mouth parted wider, tongue sticking out, when Ransom dipped two of his fingers into your mouth. His other hand sneaked down your body, black-tipped fingers playing with your already pulsating pussy. 

He pushed his digits to the back of your throat, making you choke and splutter. Your eyes teared up, but you didn’t break eye contact. When Ransom added a third finger, pressing them down on your tongue and further in, you gagged. Your body spasmed, but he held you down still - fucking your face with his fingers, at the same time circling your clit with the other hand. 

He made you come just by playing with your pearl. Or maybe the strongest shockwave was from the way he forced his fingers into your throat; filling you with more of the fizzy fae dust that made you salivate and crave him more. 

“Good girl, Tabby,” he cooed as he kept his fingers on your tongue while you writhed and moaned your release. 

Your body was still buzzing with the remnants of your climax when Ransom finally withdrew his fingers. Shiny with your spit, he brought them down between your spread thighs. 

Without preamble, he thrust all three into you. 

Your back arched as you fisted the sheets. Ransom’s name was a broken cry on your lips as your pussy welcomed the intrusion. 

Like with your mouth, he set a steady, merciless rhythm. The second orgasm came quickly, not surprising you, considering how responsive your body was. It bubbled into the very tips of your fingers, making you mewl in pleasure. 

But the cloudy lull dispersed when your body registered the continued stimulation. 

Ransom kept moving his fingers. A little faster, too. He crooked them, pressing into your G-spot with each damn thrust. An embarrassingly loud squelching sound accompanied each move of his fingers.

His other hand played with your swollen clit, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. When you whined, heels dragging against the mattress in a futile attempt of squirming away from the onslaught, Ransom’s hand changed its course. He splayed his fingers over your lower abdomen. 

And then he pressed down.

At the same time driving his fingers into that most sensitive, responsive spot. 

Your whole body jolted, bowing in half as pleasure more intense than before sizzled through your body. You screamed. 

Ransom kept going and pressing and fucking… and you kept squirting. 

Shaking and crying, you stared in disbelief at the mess between your spread thighs. Not only was his whole palm wet, but so was his forearm. A few splashes shone on his abdomen, as well. 

Your breath was ragged, your mind somewhere outside of your body, when Ransom slowed and eased you through the aftershocks. Through half-lidded eyes you watched as he brought his soaked hand to his mouth. Holding your gaze with a wicked smirk, he sucked one of his fingers clean. 

“I’ve never done that before,” you whispered shyly. 

“Oh, Tabby.” Ransom’s gaze was both parts warm and evil as he lowered his hand between your thighs again. “I’m going to do to you a lot of things you’ve never tried before.”

“N-no!” You protested when you felt where his touch aimed. 

Your fingers clenched on the sheets tighter when you felt his wet digits circle your rim. Your muscles cinched, but it only made Ransom chuckle. 

“You’re going to let me,” he teased, “because you’re more curious than scared, little pet.”

Ransom’s lips puckered in a fake sympathetic pout and he let out a mocking coo as he forced a single finger into your tightest hole. 

Your eyes were wide, your mouth opened on a distressed gasp. A tiny frown marred your forehead, as your natural curiosity probed at the new sensations he was stirring in your body. 

“There you go,” he moved his finger in and out, “taking it so good, Tabby. Such a good pet.” 

“Nghh!” You keened when he pushed a second finger in, stretching your rim wider. 

“No need to be embarrassed that you like it. You’ll come from it, I promise.” His free hand teased along your puffy folds, mercifully not touching your oversensitive clit. “You’ll come with my cock deep in your ass, pet.”

“Someday,” he mused aloud, adding his dirty words to the torment, “I’ll keep you on my cock and spread you wide, so that Dusk can feast on your sweet cunt.”

The image his words painted sent a carnal response to your core, but also provoked an irritable cord. 

“Gonna play with all of your pets, huh?” You glared; though it shifted into reflection of pleasure as fingers probed your unused channel.

“Sheath your claws, Tabby.” Ransom laughed. He reached for your face with his free hand and trailed a finger from the tip of your nose, across your lips and down to your neck. “No need for jealousy. Dusk and Dawn are a part of my family’s court. They love mischief and all things debauched, but they’re not my pets. Nor my lovers.”

He curled his fingers around your throat, demanding undisturbed eye contact. 

“I let them touch you, because it pleases me when you suffer pleasure. When that silly, human propriety and reason fight your body’s eager responsiveness.”

He hovered above you, face so close to yours that his unruly strand of hair nearly tickled your forehead.

“If I wish so, they’ll play with you for my entertainment again,” Ransom’s tone lowered, turning a honey-sweet, but thick and sticky, clogging threat. “And you won’t fuss about it, because you want to please your Master.”

“Yes, Master.” Again, it flowed out of your lips so easily. 

“Now kiss me and thank me for stretching your ass.” 

Your lips pressed against his eagerly, as if you were starved for his taste. Your tongue poked out playfully, coaxing Ransom’s response. But what you earned in return was your own strained moan as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

“T-thank you for stretching my ass, Master,” you whimpered, though you honestly weren’t yet sold on the weird sensation. Or rather your brain wasn’t yet accepting it, because your pussy was weeping happy tears again, even though she wasn’t the one directly stimulated. 

With wide eyes you observed as Ransom slowly withdrew his fingers, only to position the head of his cock right against that barely-opened hole. 

You thought he’d torment you a bit with anal play, but then take your cunt. It appeared that the dark fae had other ideas. Unpredictable ones, which made you flush with dread and humiliation anew. 

Ransom placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them spread wide apart. His hungry gaze was watching, nearly mesmerized, the way your tight, dirty hole struggled against his big cock. 

He felt your whole body tense then yield with a broken moan as he pushed the tip inside. 

Your rim opened, forced to swallow his cock. Your pussy was puffy and glistening, your clit engorged and tempting to torment it more. He noticed the way your other hole clenched in despair as he fucked into the one below. 

He knew your cunt yearned to be fucked so good; fussy that he was neglecting it for the other hole, the one so many humans were squirmy and embarrassed about. 

Oh, Ransom had every intention of fucking and filling your sweet pussy, but he wanted to play first. To torment you and your needy cunt, drawing your pleasure so high you would crawl and beg. 

Besides, taking the virginity of your ass and seeing you fall apart from having something so dirty done to you, was a pleasure most exquisite. 

You made the most delicious sounds - whimpers and mewls of crumbling resistance mixing with moans of a sweet, needy slut. 

When he bottomed out in your ass, your pussy gushed with more of your wetness. 

“What a naughty, messy pet,” he cooed cruelly. “Enjoying having her ass plowed. You gonna cum for me, Tabby? Gonna cum with my cock deep in your ass?”

You did. Crying out as your body tightened, squeezing his dick like a vice. Tears stung beneath your eyelids as he laughed and continued fucking into your sore bottom, yet pleasure still rippled as if his mockery was also a sweet caress. 

You came again when Ransom groaned his release, filled you with hot cum and landed a slap on your exposed clit. 

Rush of blood pounded in your head, muffling some of the dirty words Ransom was weaving like poetry. You stared at him with eyes glassy, admiring the raw, dark beauty of him. While he was watching your rim gaping slightly, his cum dribbling out. 

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, your consciousness drifted back from the hazy cloudy space Ransom pushed you into. You were curled in bed, the sheets magically clean of any mess your bodies produced. It was warm and safe; a thin, soft sheet draped over your naked body. 

You turned onto your back, yawning as you looked around. The canopy was drawn shut: gauzy curtains providing intimacy, fairy lights woven into the fabric glowing so beautifully. 

Behind it, you could make out a shadow of a silhouette moving around the bedroom. Judging by the size and shape, you suspected it was Ransom. You were proved right when he parted the curtains a moment later.

“Dusk and Dawn will come to wash you.” Though spoken rather softly, it was a declaration that wouldn’t welcome any disobedience. 

In your body, an eagerness to follow ignited, but your mind scowled at the prospect of being touched by strange women again. Washed and played with like a toy to be then presented to Ransom. 

When you opened your mouth to protest against being touched and aroused by the fae again, Ransom cut you with a glare.

“They will wash and dress you, and you will let them. Then meet me on the main floor.” 

“Yes, Master.” Your reply may have been obedient, but you still scrunched up your nose in discontent. 

Judging by Ransom’s broad grin, he found your pout amusing. The glint in his blue eyes reminded of a lightning ripping through the night sky. It also suggested more humiliating torment coming your way. 

[eccentricallygothic]

Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI. 

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection. 

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe. 

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine. 

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.” 

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears. 

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night. 

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs. 

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it. 

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?” 

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child. 

He does that when he is horny. 

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight. 

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap. 

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp. 

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek. 

“Yes, hubby.” 

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again. 

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. “The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool. 

[krirebr]

Updated 9/19/24

Tag lists are open

Here is a current list of all of the work I've posted here. I write mostly for Chris Evans characters and all of my stories are intended for an 18+ audience. Minors please DNI.

Requests are closed but my asks are always open! Come riff with me or send asks/what ifs about any of my works! But no NSFW GIFs, please and thank you! 💜

🖤 Dark 🩶 Soft!Dark 😥 Angst 🥵 Smut

Trapped AU

Andy keeps telling you how lucky you are that he chose you to be his wife. 🖤 😥

Head Over Heels

All Cole wants is someone to share eternity with. He won't stop looking until he finds them.

I Know I Should Know Better series

Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it? 😥🥵

Heads Will Roll series

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Luck Be a Lady

Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head? 🩶🥵

Drabbles & Headcanons

Curtis + soft!dark + soothe 🖤

Curtis Takes the Snowpiercer 🖤🥵

Curtis + Possessive 🥵

Just Part of the Process - I Know I Should Know Better AU - Actor!Curtis Everett x PA!Reader 😥

Heads Will Roll series

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Drabbles & Headcanons

Relax

A Merry Little Christmas

Killing Moon

When you and your boyfriend steal something without fully realizing who you are stealing from, you're sent on a cross-country adventure by an ally you're pretty sure you shouldn't trust.

Giving Me a Thrill

A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.

Psycho Killer AU

A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life. 🖤🥵

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two 🖤🥵😥

More Than This series

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

I'm Feeling Like I Never Should

It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.

Drabbles & Headcanons

Jealous Ex Ransom

Sequel 🥵

End

No Way of Knowing - More Than This What If 😥

What You Can Do For Your Country

Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help. 🖤

Everybody Wants to Rule the World series

Your vacation comes to an end when a powerful and mysterious man gets his first taste. 🖤🥵

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two

Drabbles & Headcanons

Arranged Marriage Steve Headcanon

Tell Me One Thing - More Than This What If 😥

What if Reader was into it? - What You Can Do For Your Country What If 🖤

We're All Monsters

Multi-character, multi-reader vampire AU 🖤😥🥵

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

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

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

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

Word Count: 3,776

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

It’s your wedding day, again. 

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

  I don’t want to get married. 

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

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

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

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

  My wife.

  MY  WIFE.

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

  God, the party. 

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

  Tell him. Tell me what he says. 

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

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

  No one does. 

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

  You see… a beach. 

  An empty beach. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunch in an hour.” 

—

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

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

  Fuck you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Leave me alone.”

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

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the fucking baby.

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

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

  He doesn’t pick it up. 

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

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

  —

  They don’t come back that night.

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

  I wonder what Nat’s doing. 

  I wonder if they’re worried about me.

  I wonder what Ransom told them.

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

  When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

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

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

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

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

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

  We made it for you.

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

  It was more than a little crush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Please.” 

  You lay there until the room goes dark. 

  —

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

next chapter

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

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[shotgunbunny]

𝐑. 𝐃𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒:

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Ransom waited years for you to remember him, and when you do he won't let you forget.

[stalker!ransom x airhead!reader]

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

Ransom finally meets your family, but will they just become another story Ransom writes about.

[dark!writer!ransom x crybaby!reader]

𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐋𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲

Ransom thinks you know about his secret so he punishes you by face fucking you. Little did he know, you had no idea and now you were even more inlove with him.

[soft!dark! Ransom x reader]

Dividers are by @f-loqweres

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Ransom can’t resist his innocent step-sister.

prompts. | Ransom Drysdale + Step-brother + “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” + Innocence, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!step-brother!Ransom Drysdale x innocent!fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dubious consent, stepcest, orgasm (f), smut, pet names, innocence kink, corruption kink, both are of legal age, allusions to fingering, possessiveness, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Ransom coos at you as you lay in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. He insisted you put it on since you’re just so pretty when you’re in his clothes. Of course, you listened to him—you love your step-brother.

And you’re a bit scared of him, too. You’ve seen how he treats his parents, but to you, he’s exceptionally kind and patient. 

You’re between his legs and watching a movie on his television, giggling at the comedic bits whenever they occur. Ransom is torn between looking at you and the film, but he settles on you ultimately. 

Ransom can’t help the way he feels about you—the darkness that takes over every time he thinks about his innocent little step-sister. He fights with the urges that spur him on, the ones that’ll wholly corrupt you and turn you into his personal plaything, despite how wrong it is.

He smoothes his large hands over both your thighs, caressing the supple skin as you sigh in delight. Your little noises are music to his ears—and he wants more. He always does.

Your step-brother slides his hands up the sweater, and he finds your panties. He plays with the lace edging and little bow on the front, making you gasp and giggle. “Ran…” you say, voice quiet and soft. He shushes you, reaching up to grab the waistband on your underwear.

Skillfully, Ransom pulls your panties off, leaving you exposed to him. Your position between his legs remains the same, except now, you open yourself up to your step-brother a little more by parting your thighs. 

Ransom’s fingers play with your folds, finding that you’re wet. He curses under his breath, wondering if you were thinking of something or someone. Was it him? It better be him. 

You’ve long ceased paying attention to the movie, instead focusing on the screen because you don’t know what else to do. You’ve never been touched like this by anyone—not even yourself—but it’s Ransom, your kind step-brother, who has taught you so much. It feels right and so fucking good.

“R– Ransom…” you whimper when he finds your clit, rubbing it gently. “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” he asks, and you nod your head. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ransom further questions. “Y- Yeah.”

He presses down a bit harder on your pearl of nerves, picking up the pace. The wet sounds of your pussy fill the room, and so do your adorable moans. Ransom’s hard cock is against your back, and he grinds it on you every now and then, desperate for some relief. 

Involuntarily, your back arches into Ransom, and he nuzzles your cheek. “Yeah, that’s it,” he urges as your whimpers become louder. He has half a mind to use his other hand to finger you, but he knows he can’t do that just yet. You’re a delicate thing, one he’ll enjoy breaking in slowly.

Instead, Ransom palms your tits through your sweater, massaging them to add to your pleasure. 

You feel as though something inside of you is building up as the tingles strengthen rapidly. You’ve never felt this way before, and you’re confused. 

“R– Ransom? Feels funny down th– there,” you tell him, voice a bit whiny. “Oh, yeah? In your pussy, princess?” he questions. “Y– Yeah, in my p– pussy,” you repeat, and he growls. “That’s normal, baby. Just let me keep touching you,” Ransom says. 

You nod and relax in his arms, limbs twitching as you approach your first-ever orgasm. You moan Ransom’s name as you come, and he realizes that he is so hard it hurts. Your step-brother makes you ride out your climax, rubbing your clit in fervour until he can tell it’s too much.

Your chest heaves as you reel from the pleasure, head lolling against Ransom’s chest. “How about we try something else, hm?” he questions, and you don’t have a chance to reply when he prods at your leaking hole. 

[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

[lanabuckybarnes]

| Pay Up |

18+ MINORS DNI

THIS IS A DARK FIC!!! Heed the warnings and tread carefully I cannot stress enough. If any warnings trigger you do not progress,

✧Pairing ✧ Lloyd Hansen x Reader x Ransom Drysdale

✧Warnings✧ Dub/Non-Con Themes!!! — Drinking, Cheating, Mentions of feeling sick (sorry emetophobic people) Crushing (in a romantic sense), stalking??, Lloyd Hansen, no really he is a pos in this, Unconsented touching (non sexual), Drugging, panty kink (probably), Ransom your saviour, actually not because he’s also a pos, Biting, Recording, Dirty talk, Humiliation, Degradation, Fingering (F), Pussy Slapping, Squirting, lil Cum play, alluding to Oral (F) — If I have missed anymore, especially in a story like this one please let me know and I shall add it right away.

✧Word Count✧ 1.9k

✧Author Note✧ so while I am visiting family and working on my Stevie series and a few other things I thought I would give you these two because if I don’t get this out my drafts I’ll scream.

You should’ve known better than to attend these parties. Ransom’s parties never ended well for anyone but it had been so long and you wanted to let your hair down, have some fun.

Maybe you should’ve stopped after the first drink you were given had you buzzed but you always were a glutton for punishment so you went back for a second and a third. Now you were tipsy, heels discarded in the corner of the room somewhere and desperately horny. The only issue was your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

You checked the kitchen, living room, outside — he was nowhere. Eventually you stumbled upstairs, a cacophony of wet skin and sharp moans reaching you. Couples sneaking off to fuck was normal for these things but for some reason, a feeling deep within your gut made you feel like you had to investigate.

The door to the room was ajar, all it took was a soft shove for it to open fully. What you didn’t expect was the scene in front of you. Your jaw dropped to the floor at the sight, your boyfriend lying on his back while some drunk slut rode him to filth. All at once the wall protecting your mind from registering the scene crumbled, a slew of emotions bursting forth like water from a dam. You felt sick, the alcohol in your stomach threatening to bubble back up your throat.

“Ohh fu—baby?” Your boyfriend turned noticing you were there. At the mention of the pet name he so endearingly called you, you gagged, tears springing into your eyes. Turning on your heel before he could wiggle out of his compromised position, you sprinted out of the room, to the only place you knew would be vacant.

Ransom’s room was huge. It was a lot less colourful than what you could remember, had it really been that long since you’d been in here? Surely not, that meant you’d been avoiding Ran for longer than you thought. It was all thanks to your now ex boyfriend.

Ransom had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, he was a few years older than you and treated you like shit sometimes but thanks to a horrible upbringing and not knowing any better you found his treatment loving and developed a little crush on the brunette in your teenage years. After you made it official with your boyfriend he forced you to cut ties with any person he saw as a threat, that included Ransom.

You sank onto the bed, curling into a little ball as you sobbed, uncaring of mascara streaks running down your face. Your night was ruined anyway.

Lloyd watched as you stepped up the stairs, following behind with a fair distance as to not arouse suspicion. He watched as you caught your boyfriend fucking another girl, watched as you stumbled your way out of the room and into Ransom’s. He knew then that you were ripe for picking.

Lloyd had his eye on you for a while. You were cute, and completely stupid in his eyes. You trusted everyone and anything to come from their mouths without so much as a second thought.

You ignored the soft squeak of Ransom’s door, choosing instead to bury yourself into the musk of his sheets. Your earlier horniness flaring up again at the scent of another man. You felt disgusted by just how easily you soaked yourself.

“Cupcakeee” he sang, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. If there was one person worse than your boyfriend or Ransom Drysdale it was him. Lloyd Hansen. You’d spoken to him a few times but he was very handsy and said things that would have an incubus curling away in disgust.

You’d met him at the start of your night, his hands on your hips and dancing to the music while you tried desperately to push yourself away from him. He let you go with a laugh but kept a close eye on you until now.

He was the last person you wanted to speak to but he’s was hard to get rid of.

“Lloyd” you spoke bitterly, voice a little raspy. You sat up on the bed, avoiding his strong gaze.

“Why the tears pumpkin? Are you not enjoying yourself?” He smiled wickedly, you could tell that he knew why. When he tried to push a strand of your hair away from your face you smacked his hand away.

“Wow feisty” he laughed and you scoffed.

“Leave me alone Lloyd.”

He cleared his throat, squatting down in front of you. Those tight white pants stretching impossibly against his thick thighs. His ringed fingers splayed over your thighs, his chin resting on your knees.

“Hey now I’m just tryna help, that’s no way to treat someone tryna help you sugar” he sounded almost sad but his face shone with a smugness only he was capable of.

“That boyfriend of yours away fucking other women huh?” He questioned, turning his head to rest his cheek against your knee bone instead. His hands squished the fat of your thighs a little hard but not enough to cause any searing pain. The tips of fingers danced over the hem of your too short dress.

From this angle Lloyd could see straight up the skirt, getting an eyeful of those pretty baby pink panties. Ones he’d caught you in before, his favourite pair ever since. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, he wanted nothing more than to taste that sweet cunt but he had to play this tactically.

“You wanna talk about it princess?” He says, distracting you from his wandering hands as they inched up under your dress.

“Stop Lloyd” you warned, gripping at his forearms. You felt weak, embarrassingly so, you knew for a fact you were so much stronger than this. Your brain felt foggy, your words slurring. Then it clicked. Lloyd smiled dangerously.

“Come on Crumbcake, let me make you feel good.”

All it took was a small shove for you to flop back onto the bed, your world spinning as you stared up at the ceiling. You protested as he bunched your dress up at your hips but you couldn’t fight.

“Fuck look at these beautiful panties, all pink and pretty, just like you huh cupcake?” his lips kissed down your inner thigh. Your hands felt heavy, you wanted to push his head away but the hot feeling his mouth left was too inviting.

He stopped his kisses as he reached your panties, taking in the dark patch you’d made, he almost moaned aloud at the sight. He leaned forward, pushing his face into the material and sniffed harshly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at your scent, a groan tumbling from his mouth. His teeth sank into the fabric, your taste sweet on the tip of his tongue. He felt like he was going to bust and he hadn’t even seen your pussy yet.

“Starting without me Lloyd?” You perked up at the new voice — new but oh so familiar.

Lloyd sighed as he let go of the fabric, turning to the man closing the door with a glare.

“No” he spat “just having a look.”

“That’s starting without me” the voice returned.

“Oh piss off Ransom.”

That’s who it was, relief pooling in your veins as you recognised him. Maybe he’d come to help you, whisk you away from the madman between your legs.

You wet your dry lips, sucking in a few breaths before trying to speak. Your jaw felt so heavy.

“R-Ran” you slurred. When you tried to raise your head you couldn’t. You let out a frustrated moan.

“Hey pretty girl” Ransom cooed, crawling onto the bed until he was in your line of sight. His hand brushed over your cheek softly, the feeling so comforting compared to the tingles all over your body. You smiled up at him, small tears falling from your eyes. Your saviour.

“H-help” you whispered. Your fingers twitched but you couldn’t reach out to him. Ran shushed you gently, murmuring comforting words that only he knew. Words from when you were both children and you hurt yourself playing with the bigger boys.

“It’s gonna be ok pretty girl, Lloyd just needs one little thing” and like that your world crumbled. Ransom wasn’t your saviour, he was here to help the beast that currently sucked dark marks over your skin.

“R-Ran no please” you sobbed, your lips wobbling as your vision blurred with fat tears. This time Ransom’s comfort did nothing but make you feel worse. He tried his best to calm you down but to no avail.

You yelled weakly at the painful reminder of just who else was there shot from your thigh. Lloyd bit the sensitive skin until he tasted copper.

“I don’t have all day,” he grunted. Ransom sighed, moving off the bed and away from you. Lloyd took his place behind you, gathering your almost limp body into his arms and pulling you into his chest, his thighs on either side of yours as he leaned back against the headboard.

At this new angle you could see Ransom at the foot of the bed, his phone in his hand. You gulped the thick slew of emotions ranging from disgust to terror down.

“Here’s the thing pumpkin” Lloyd growled in your ear, his hands ripping the top part of your dress until your breasts spilled from the fabric.

“Your little boyfriend fucked up tonight in more ways than one, he owes me and Rannie here a whole lot of money…so you sugar, you’re gonna be our little payback alright? Don’t worry though I won’t hurt you too much, especially not if you do as I say. So just relax, you never know…you might enjoy it too.”

Lloyd’s hands explored your body, one hand grasping at one of your tits while the other wandered down your body until it slipped into your panties. You shut your eyes, trying to hide the fact that his fingers circling your clit felt good. The snap of your panties waistband had you whimpering, the fabric falling until your sopping cunt was exposed to both men.

The flash of Ransom’s phone almost blinded you. He shuffled forward, pointing the camera at your pussy. Lloyd chuckled as his fingers slipped through your folds, completely soaked by the time they reached your clit.

“Fuck cupcake you’re enjoying this ain’t you? Bet you like having that pretty pussy filmed, is that why you’re so wet? Or is it because I’m the one touching it? Or maybe” his nose bumped the side of your head as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Maybe it’s because of Rannie, is that it pudding? Are you soaked because your little crush is watching you?”

You tried to shake your head at it all. It was none of them, it wasn’t Lloyd, it wasn’t Ransom and it wasn’t the camera. So what was it then?

The stretching of your pussy around Lloyd’s fingers caught you off guard, a painfully pleasured moan escaping you before you could bite it back. Lloyd smirked at your unravelling. His fingers fucked you quickly, the heel of his palm grinding against your swollen clit.

“Fuck that little pussy is singing for me, listen to that Ran, thought you didn’t want this hm? If you didn’t want this then why is your pussy fucking soaked” he spat, his fingers pulling out of you to land a harsh smack against your pussy causing you to shudder. You didn’t have any time to relax from the pain before three of his ringed fingers were back inside you, spreading you out like you never felt before.

You whined in protest as your stomach coiled, ropes of pleasure bundling together almost painfully.

“Ohh look at that, you gonna cum? Such a pathetic whiny slut, putting up a big fight but she’s gonna cum over my fucking fingers. Let go cupcake, cum, soak me—do it” he demanded, the sharp tone to his words capturing you and dragging you down to the pits.

You heard a pitiful squeal, you think it was from you. Your eyes squeezed shut as your pussy gushed over Lloyd’s fingers, almost soaking Ransom and his phone. Lloyd didn’t stop until he knew you were done, that your body had spent all of its juices. His fingers slipped from you, all connected with strings of your cum.

He smeared his hand over your face before capturing your unresponsive lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue lashing with yours and his teeth biting your lips.

“Let’s see how your little boyfriend responds to that shall we?” Lloyd speaks with a cheery lilt.

“But while we wait, let’s let Rannie get a taste of that pussy ok?” He turned your face to meet his gaze. You couldn’t respond, only letting out a soft grunt.

“Good girl.”

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except on this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes & Asks are always appreciated, although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience. They let me know that you are enjoying what you read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

[holylulusworld]

Self-help group for killers masterlist

Summary: 6 men meet up to talk about their problems. They soon realize they need someone to help them solve their problems. This person is you. Whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Steve Kemp x fem!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader, Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x fem!Reader, Andy Barber x fem!Reader, God, the bounty hunter x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, hostage situation, mentions of murder/killing for money, serial killers/hitmen, mentions of blood/gore, kidnapping, scared reader, talk about crimes, possible smut in future chapters

A/N: Please consider Steve Kemp is not a cannibal in my story. This is an AU. All men are serial killers, killers, or hitmen.

SHG for killers (1) - The first meeting

SHG for killers (2) - You (reader)

SHG for killers (3) - Lloyd Hansen

SHG for killers (4) - Steve Kemp

SHG for killers (5) - Andy Barber

SHG for killers (6) - Ransom Drysdale

SHG for killers (7) - Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy)

SHG for killers (8) - God, the bounty hunter

SHG for killers (9) - Between heaven and hell

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[carnalactivities]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : a lot :P

[ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬. ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : innocent y/n x priest Ransom Drysdale

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Ransom helps a young choir girl fulfill God's will.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Non/dubcon, religious themes, age gap, fingering, vaginal sex, virginity loss, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, corruption kink, manipulation, explicit language, slight dd/lg (mostly just dd), degrading, smut, 18+.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Do not copy, translate, or repost my work as your own. this book does contain dark themes. please do not read if any of these topics trigger you. i have had this plot for awhile and literally froze when i realized Ransom embodied this role. i took my time and care for this work. i know tis’ is long but please bare with me. since it is my first posted work, i wanted to make it count. all love and light ~ always, always, always ~ A

"He hath come to the bosom of His beloved.

Smiling on him, He beareth him to highest heav'n."

The youths choir singing echoed throughout the church. Not a corner free from their angelic tones. Though the choir ranged from ages, the difference of genders were noted by the boys standing tall in the back and the girls in the front. All of their faces were recognizable to him now, since he was present for most of their rehearsals before every Sunday, but your face had always stood out to him from the beginning. Even now you outshined the rest of your peers- by both voice and presence.

But even still Ransom watched you from the corner of the chapel, hidden in the shadows. Yes, he did appear every now and then during their rehearsals for appraisal or even just the view, which was always you. But when he watched you perform, he didn’t want to constantly be observing the other pupils as well. He wanted only to watch you and this dark archway was perfect for that.

Most nights he lay in his bed, trying to push out the thoughts of everything his life lacked now. Everything he had before, he quickly realized how much he had taken for granted during his first night in that dim and barely furnished apartment. To consider it a home would be charity in itself, but he couldn’t afford much more. He had lost everything when he came here a few months ago.

He came here on the run, wanted for murder though he wasn't responsible for it. It was an accident. A mistake.

Sometimes his brain got so clouded and he got aggressive. He always seemed to lose himself in those moments but he never mean't for Jonie to fall like she had. He remembered standing over her body, realizing what he had done. There was no mistaking the empty look in her eyes.

So he ran.

There was no time for alibis, he had a mile long trail of proof behind him, so he outsmarted them. His family all knew his patterns and lifestyle, and it didn’t make it any easier that they all probably would’ve gladly sent him behind bars. So he went to the last place any of them would’ve suspected: to church.

Tricking the deacons was a lot easier than he had thought. He figured they would've wanted some sort of resume, but they were so desperate for a new father that they were putting a robe on him that day.

Becoming a preacher was more work than he had signed up for though. He had to prepare a weekly sermon, bless the sick, baptize sinful, visit the poor, help the elderly- the list seemed to be never ending. Not even to mention he was paid a set salary, a percentage already taken out to help provide not only for the church but also for the poor and elderly. And on top of all the things he had to add to his life, there was about ten fold of things he had to remove : sex, language, drugs, alcohol....sex.

It was humiliating that a man of his stature had resorted to his right hand. He hadn’t used his own hand to finish since he was 16. Once he lost his virginity, and experienced real pleasure? There was no need to go back to such desperate measures. But here in this small town, there was no slew of women ready at his feet and word seemed to travel fast. He learned that when he had walked into the chapel and the whole congregation was waiting for him with open arms once they heard of their new pastor. He couldn’t risk his position now because of a few(most) horny nights.

But when he met the choir that day as well and your face eagerly peered up at him? It was a shimmer of light in his very dark tunnel.

He let his thoughts wander to you some nights and it helped him cope. How your voice rang higher than the rest of the choir. How your face scrunched in concentration when you sang. How sometimes when you would sing a solo or a particular high note your eyes would open and your cheeks would flush with embarrassment as if you weren’t stealing the breath out of everyone watching. How Ransom was sure you made the exact same face when you came as he fisted his cock at night.

Because though Random didn’t know your name, he had watched you long enough to actually know you.

You didn’t like the spotlight. You would much rather be apart or even behind the crowd rather than in the center-but never a follower either.

You were quiet, observant. When the director gave criticism you took it eagerly, always seeking to please. To improve.

You were never late, either. Never missed a practice session. You never complained neither. Not when rehearsals ran long or if the director was particularly impatient some days.

And all of these qualities came wrapped up in a cute lil’ innocent body. Because though Ransom noted these things about you, and saw the potential for his own personal use, it was initially your body that he had noted.

Your presence so delicate and naive. When his eyes had met yours for the first time, your smile had that perfect pleasing tilt. But your eyes had that glint in them. Knowing. Teasing. Practically speaking to him.

Take me.

Fuck me.

Break me.

And he wanted to. Right then and there. Even in front of your parents. But he just shook your hand and introduced himself. And because he was so occupied with how your hand felt in his, he had completely missed your name.

He regretted it that was for sure. He racked and racked his brain. Even tried to picture names just as perfect as you, but none fit. For months he wanted to rectify that. He needed a name for his little girl but he had yet to find it. But today he planned to change that.

Just your name, that was all he needed. And as Random stepped out of his alcove and headed past the pews towards the foyer door casually, he knew today was going to be that day.

“A little off key, altos but! I am highly impressed with how all of you have gracefully learned this song. I know when ya’ll are prepared, the congregation will love this hymn!” The choir directors voice called behind Ransom as he reached the last pew. He heard the movement of feet and knew the choir was already descending off of the stage towards where their belongings lay strewn in the front pews.

“Alright, great work today you guys! Remember to rehearse and memorize this Sunday’s hymns at least once this weekend. I will see you all Sunday at 9:00!” As the director finished speaking to his students, Ransom turned and tucked his hands into his pockets in a casual stance next to the opening of the foyer. The church opened before him and he watched as all the choir readied themselves to leave for the evening.

The students were quick to pull off their robes and stuff them in their bags that they brought, all chattering with each other. Some were already heading towards the entrance of the building, either with each other or alone but all still moving with quick steps. As they neared Ransom and passed him, a forced smile took over his lips and he gave words of encouragement and thanks to the choir as they passed him. Some responded, some simply just smiled in response to him but Random couldn’t have cared less.

His gaze kept returning to you, still at the front of the pews, carefully hanging your robe on a hanger and placing it in a bag you had brought with you. You weren’t in a hurry like the rest of the choir. Well not enough to crumple your robe in the process. Ransom loved that. You were patient. Sure minded. Never mind that you were the last one left, no, you would take your time.

Ransom watched as two kids, giggling and running down the center aisle, approached him. One chasing the other but as they headed straight for Ransom and the exit he heard your voice call out softly.

“Please don’t run in the building guys!” It was soft, silky, heaven to his ears. Sounding just like when you sing, and Ransom had to stop himself from letting a possessive growl escape his throat. He wanted to hear your words directed at him and even though he was craving your attention more than ever, he couldn’t help but note your words.

You had wanted those kids to listen to you, but you didn’t command them. You had barely even lifted your voice, you weren’t used to speaking above others. Ransom took it for what he knew it to be: you didn’t want to be the one to order others, you needed to be ordered yourself. Mentally Ransom checked off another box that you filled and he couldn’t help but think you were made for him.

You approached Ransom down the aisle and his hands curled into fists in his pockets as he took in your outfit.

You were wearing a form fitted top: a similar one he would wear when he worked out except he always opted for black whereas you wore white. And you paired it with a matching white tennis skirt. The skirt only reached down mid thigh and all that leg was going to be his downfall. Ransom noted your tennis shoes and socks that were also white and if he believed in angels- this was as close as he was ever going to get to one.

“I apologize for the kids running.” You smiled up at him, your eyebrows down in apology and your lips only slightly tilted up.

“Don’t be.” Ransom quickly responded. He forgot about his thoughts just heartbeats before and focused his attention solely on you for right now. “It’s not like it is your fault, right? Plus, I like to think of our church as a home. Though reverence is due, I enjoy to see when our members are relaxed as well.” His imsuchaforgivingandcomfortingmanbecauseimaholypriest attitude had always come naturally to Ransom since it was everything he was not.

“I love that.” Your eyes lit up as you clutched your robe to your chest as it rested over your arm. Though quickly your eyes lost the light in them as you seemed to remember something. Your smile slowly fell as well and your attention turned to your shoes below you.

Ransoms eyebrows scrunched and he couldn’t help but reach for you. His hand caught the bottom of your chin and he eased your face back up to meet his eyes again. Though portraying the perfect appearance of worry, Ransoms was fighting to urge to lift his thumb higher and catch your bottom lip. Maybe even to just cup your face. Anything, anything, to have more contact with you.

“What is it?” He asked you softly.

“I…” Your voice was so soft and hesitant. “I need to speak with you.”

Ransoms eyebrows lifted in surprise, that was certainly not what he figured you would say.

“Well i’m right here. You’re welcome to say whatever you need to.” Princess.

You turned your head, Ransoms hand falling from your chin, your eye line aimed at the choir director still at the pulpit.

“I was hoping it could be a private conversation.” You whispered and Ransom had to still his features as to not give off too much of what was running through his head from your words.

You wanted to get Ransom alone.

Ransom wasn’t so much delusional, he recognized when even his thoughts could take things too far. But here you were, wanting to be alone with him. You must’ve taken notice to him just as much as he had been watching and dreaming of you.

With a casual ease, Ransom smiled at you comfortably and nodded. “My office is just in the back. We’re welcome to speak there and no one will overhear.”

You nodded shyly in response. Your gaze averting his as you took your bottom lip in your mouth nervously.

You were nervous.

So, you had always had a craving for him just as he had wanted you. This must’ve been what a blessing was that he had always heard the members speaking on.

He let his hand fall to your lower back as he headed towards the hall that led to his office in the back. Gently he pushed you to follow beside him and he noted how you lowered your head and your steps blindly followed his.

Of course a pretty thing like you would be nervous, but you almost seemed ashamed. Ransom could handle nerves but ashamed? No. You should be honored. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. But then again, Ransom never really went for the plastic surgery and egotistical women. He always preferred the shy and inexperienced type. He always found more pleasure in taking firsts. Even after the night was finished Ransom always walked away knowing that the women he was with never would experience better than him and that was a bigger turn on for him than their pleading for more. Soon you would know. You would even plead. He would make sure of it.

As they passed the pews, Ransom caught sight of the choir director moving the lectern back into place in the center of the pulpit.

“We’re going to a chat in my office, Roy. Go ahead and head out when you’re done. I’ll lock up on our way out.” Ransom spoke to the man. He smiled in agreement in reply. “Of course, Father. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Ransom nodded and then headed into the hallway, just passing his spot from moments before.

In silence Ransom led you down the hallway. He had to calm himself every few breaths, restraining from the eagerness that overtook him. Ransom never got eager, especially not in moments where, though unspoken, both parties knew what was about to commence. But months of abstinence had made him impatient. He hadn’t let himself indulge in any past actions, but you never pass up a free dinner. Even Ransom knew that.

Opening the door for you he led you inside. “Go ahead and take a seat.” He cooly told you as he shut the door and made his way around the desk that your chair faced.

Ransom spent many days and nights in this office. He figured it better than his soulless apartment. Though full book shelves lined the wall and a computer sat at his desk 90 degree angled desk, he had barely touched any of the objects. Including the bible sitting idle on the desk corner. The only thing that showed his presence in this room was his coat hung in the corner and the name plate given to him a few weeks after accepting the job. Besides that, he got all of his sermons online and used his common sense for his role. His only use for this room was the occasional bible study or just simple mental escape. It wasn’t much, but his time alone helped.

As Ransom sat in his own office chair, he grinned at you. He was ready to quit the bullshitting and feel every inch of you and now that you both were alone, his dick was slowly starting to harden at the thought itself. God, he was desperate for you.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off his tongue before he realized it. For comfort or seduction- whatever you wanted to take it as- he didn’t care. Now that you two were alone, he wasn’t putting on a front anymore.

Your pretty little eyes roamed the room. Never going high enough to meet his own but quickly moving, just like whatever thoughts were spinning in the small head of yours. Ransom calmly licked his lips and couldn’t stop himself from slightly leaning forward and resting his clasped hands on his desk. Whatever words left your mouth next, he was gonna love.

“I…” A flush rose on your cheeks and you stopped yourself for a moment, nervously chewing your bottom lip. “I-I have a confession to make.”

Oh, you couldn’t even look at him as you said that. Your eyes had scrunched just to get those few words out.

“So, confess.” It came out more impatiently than he intended but he couldn’t help it. He was already imagining what your carnal sin was. That you had lusted after him. That at night you couldn’t help but imagine him there with you, feeding into all your desires and more. Probably fucking yourself dry with your fingers, just trying to curve the craving of his cock in you. Maybe even riding a pillow, desperate for friction on your small bud.

“I let jealousy consume me…”

That was definitely not what he was expecting.

His reaction was nearly physical. It felt like a slap in the face and pressed pause on all of his fantasies of you.

You came to him because you got a little envious of someone? That was your big confession. No, that wouldn’t do. All your doe eyes and coy smiles and now you finally sat in front of him, alone, all because you got fucking jealous. What?

He couldn’t mask the confusion on his face as he repeated your statement. “You got..jealous?”

“Yes, well. I mean…I did but it wasn’t only that.” You were talking so quietly now. Your hands nervously fidgeting with each other as you stammered out your words. Your eyes cast downward in shame.

“I let it affect me and my relationship with others. One day I came home and was short and said angry words to my mom. I ditched my friends in the mall last week because they practically called me crazy and just overa-“

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Ransom chuckled and shook his head, holding his hand up to pause you. “I guess i’m just confused because…well, what does a pretty thing like you have to be jealous about?” He tried to mask his irritation with a charming smile but it was half hearted and clearly forced.

Ignoring his compliment you cocked your head and went back to staring at your hands as you continued on with your explanation.

“There’s this boy that i’ve liked forever,”

“A boy?” His voice proceeded to get more agitated as he cut you off again. Ransom brought you to his office because he thought he was going to be able to bend you over his desk. Now you were plowing through his plans because you had a schoolgirl crush on some post-puberty prick?

“Yes, his name is Timothy. You probably,”

“Look at me when you’re speaking.” The command came out fast and the shortness of it even shocked Ransom. He was losing his composure much quicker than he realized.

He could’ve sworn he heard you squeak in surprise but immediately your eyes were on his and you didn’t combat his harsh tone. Clearing your throat you continued, your eyes never leaving Ransoms again.

“Timothy is on the choir as well. He sings tenor. We both grew up here together. Even playing tennis together, sometimes practicing with each other in our free time. For years i’ve had a crush on him and didn’t help that our families were close as well, so I see him pretty regularly. But then a few Sundays ago, he brought another girl to church with him. I guess they met somewhere on campus. N’ ever since then, Timothy has just been solely focused on her. And I just…I can’t help but be jealous of her. She is where I have wanted to be for years and I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Ransom tried to make sense of your strewn together thoughts. So what if your little boy crush found his own snatch? You were the prettiest little package just waiting to be opened. Ransom had never been selfless, he was aware, but he knew he couldn’t let you leave this room until you knew that you were deserving of so much more than that bare chested twig.

Licking his lips subconsciously, Ransom knew just how to convince you of it.

“Baby, you got nothing to be jealous of.” He enunciated his words with a casual cock of his head. Your cheeks heated and he grinned at your helpless reaction.

“She’s blonde and tall. She looks like a model!”

“Honey, I guarantee, whatever she’s offering him- you can offer better.”

“Well, no. It’s not like that for me. If Timothy likes her then I want him to be happy. I don’t think I can do anything better- I don’t want to.” Your words came out in a plea of defense and he just about groaned at your innocence. You were so fast to defend others, you would run yourself into a hole. You were so perfect, so clean- wanting nothing more than to do right by others. He needed to show you just how much you were worth.

“But you already have.” Ransoms statement clearly caught you off guard as you blanched back an inch. Confusion marred your face and Ransom took advantage of this moment to stand slowly, his eyes never leaving the prize in front of him.

“Here you are whining about this boy that broke your heart, but honey you have a man right in front of you.”

Your mouth formed into a perfect o and Ransom immediately wanted to see it filled. With trained poise though, he eased slowly around the desk and neared you.

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying, father.” Your eyes still didn’t leave his own as he approached you and he mentally reminded himself to praise you for that later.

“Baby, you offer so much more than you realize. He may not have noticed that, but I have. I’ve watched you for a while now and I know just how precious you are. A real man would never waste an opportunity with you. Lemme’ show you, honey.” He let his hand trace the side of your face as he spoke. Ransoms pointer finger catching a lock of your hair between his thumb and he let it ride between his fingers as they snaked downwards before he finally cupped your cheek.

“I…” You were speechless at his confession and finally your eyes left Ransoms. “Father, I”

A groan left his mouth so softly but he knew you heard it from your frozen features.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just love when you call me that.” He rubbed coaxing circles into your cheek to ease his action, but having you wide eyed and below him because of the white collar he wore was turning him on more than he usually got. “Continue, honey. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

You peered up at Ransom in stunned silence and he watched as you nervously swallowed.

“I don’t think this is appropriate, Father.”

You said it so quietly but there was no sureness in your statement and Ransom knew he had you.

“Isn’t it? God brought you to me, baby. He knew what I needed and here you are.”

“Well, maybe but..but we shouldn’t let ourselves take our own preferences to what is before us. It could lead us to sin.” He tsk’ed at your response.

“You let me say what is sin or not. I’m the priest, remember?” You nodded in response and Ransoms smile was approving.

“I know how i’ve felt about you from the moment we met. Now, I know we’ve spent little time together but I know you’ve felt it too, princess. N’ I can bet there’s some proof of it coated on your panties, huh?”

Your response was a shake of your head. You tried to move your head out of Ransoms clutch but he was quick to wrap his hand in your hair at the bass of your neck, keeping you still.

“Lust shouldn’t cloud us.” You whimpered out to him.

“It’s not lust if we were destined for each other. I know this was in Gods plan to bring you to me.”

“Satan can tempt you-.” Ransom didn’t like your response and jerked your head forward.

“Nothing is tempting me. There’s temptation and there’s knowing. I know what I can do for you. I know that you can please me. Don’t you wanna please your father, baby?” Ransom was growing impatient with your protests. He needed you weeks ago and he wasn’t about to let this perfect moment slip from his grasp.

“We’re not husband and wife. We can’t.” You were whispering now. Your silent pleas laced your words but Ransom wasn’t going to let you go and resort to another night with his hand.

“God sent us to each other. He knew I needed you and He knew you needed a real man like me. So what does it matter if we wait until after a piece of parchment is signed. It’s all apart of the plan, honey.”

You nervously chewed on your lip in silence. Your brows were down in worry but he saw his words work its way into understanding behind your eyes.

“But we will be married then?” The question was hesitant. Your final resort and protest to your priest. Ransom just smiled in response, his grip on your hair turning gentler.

“Lord willing.” He stated.

Two, three, maybe four heartbeats passed before your chin dipped. It was barely a nod, but Ransom took it.

“Stand.” He demanded and you immediately listened. Fear or obedience, Ransom didn’t care what fueled your actions-just that you had obeyed.

Without releasing you, he swept the objects off his desk in one quick motion with his free arm. You gasped in shock but he didn’t care. His hands grabbed your waste and he planted you firmly on his desk in front of him.

You were right where he wanted you now. His for the taking, the breaking, and there were no more protests from your pretty full lips as you spread your legs so his hips could hit between them.

“Over here speaking about temptations, when you wore this teasing- skimpy outfit.” Pure want laced Ransoms voice as his hands traveled down your thighs. They met the edge of your skirt and he couldn’t help but slip them underneath, running his hands higher up your bare thigh.

“I-I had tennis practice before rehearsal. It ran longer than usual. I didn’t have time to-.”

“Shut up.” Ransom didn’t want to hear any more of your ramblings. He only wanted you.

In a rush of excitement, with less restraint than he usually practiced, he leaned forward and pushed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was hungry and demanding as your mouths slid together. You fought to keep up but it was impossible with Ransoms hunger.

His cock was already straining against the front of his slacks and his desperation got the better of him as he gripped the top of your thighs aggressively. You let out a whimper in protest to the pain and Ransom seized that moment to slip his tongue into your open mouth.

You tasted of peaches and mint and damn it, Ransom couldn’t remember when he had tasted of anything better. His tongue moved expertly around yours, catching a fast rhythm but yours was wild and inexperienced. Had you even been kissed before? Maybe, but properly like this, probably not. Being a girls first and knowing they wouldn’t have better was a huge turn on for Ransom, but even with a kiss? Ransom wasn’t sure he would be able to handle himself slowly when it came time for him to fully take your innocence.

The thought alone forced a growl up his throat. His hand left your thigh simultaneously, cupping your chin aggressively. Pulling your suction on each other apart, he watched as your eyes slowly fluttered open.

Your pupils were blown, lips swollen from barely being kissed, and your cheek was flushed beyond measure. You were the perfect picture of innocence and Ransom needed to contain himself. He was so fucking turned on that his mind kept skipping 3 steps ahead and there was so much pre-cum coating the front of his boxers from you. But that wouldn’t do. No, he needed to make sure you fit him and if Ransoms anticipation kept growing he would actually end up breaking you, but he was tired of kissing you now. He just wanted to feel how tight he knew you were.

“Lay down.” He commanded you in a husky impatient voice.

Immediately your back was pressed against the table and your head was angled so that your eyes were still on him. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You were perfect.

Ransom let his hand release the hold on your face and slowly draw down your neck and fall in the middle of your chest. In reaction you gasped, your back arching off the desk slightly. But the movement had brushed your cunt with the front of Ransoms slacks and he knew you both had felt it when your eyes widened.

“My baby’s so eager, she’s rubbing herself on my clothed cock.” Ransoms body was out of his control now as his hand gripped your thigh and his hips rolled to firmly rub your clothed crotches together. Your whimper and response at his phrasing could’ve been enough to make him bust in his pants. He had just jerked off last night-what was wrong with him?

Letting Ransoms hips roll and press into you, he quickly made work of pulling your shirt off of you. Once he caught sight of how you looked laying in front of him without your shirt- he was on autopilot. In a frenzy your bra was next, Ransom only stopping for a moment to give one good squeeze to your tits and huskily saying:

“Baby, you fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.”

Before he was moving to the rest of you. Shoes, socks, and finally he was ripping your skirt down your legs before he stilled. Taking in the sight of you lying on his own desk, he was rendered speechless. This was perfection in itself, like his own fantasy coming alive- here. Naked except for your underwear. Your face already looked so fucked out and he had barely touched you!

You didn’t like his stillness and immovable gaze as Ransom watched you. You whimpered at him and your hips raised slightly as you were desperate to get back the contact you lost from him.

“Father..please. I need you, back.” You whimpered at him and Ransom groaned in response. He knew he would eventually have you pleading for him, but you were still innocent and shy. He didn’t think you would’ve used your words that quickly.

In answer Ransom let his hand cup your calf and slowly draw up your leg. You gasped in response. Your hands clutched the edge of the desk and your head fell backwards as the response of skin contact with you.

As Ransoms hand got higher and closer to the last clothed piece of you, you were impatiently writhing on the desk. A whimpering mess as his hand got nearer to your mound.

As Ransoms hand got just centimeters away, he pulled back and clutched your thigh instead. You whined in protest but he couldn’t give two shits what you wanted. Despite the constant throbbing in his pants, he suddenly had all the patience in the world.

“Tell me, princess. How often do you touch yourself?” He grinned wickedly down at you. You raised your head to look up at him, your body stilling. There was shock written on your face from his words.

“I-never, father! I promise!” Your words were begging of belief but Ransom knew better. Nothing was ever pure and certainly not a pretty thing like you.

“Don’t lie.” He grasped your thighs harshly and gritted his teeth at you. “I asked a question, now answer. Honestly this time.”

Worry took over your features and you shook your head at him. “I promise, i’ve never touched myself down there. Not like that.” Despite Ransom wanting to believe differently, he knew you were telling the truth. Holy shit. There was no way the universe let him get this lucky.

“Then what is the reason for these pretty lil’ panties, huh?” Your undies were pink with a white trim. Bikini cut and a little bow took place on the top hem.

“I just like them, that’s all.” Of course something as innocent as you would naively pick something that would have every guy on his knees at the sight.

“Well you’re ruining ‘em, baby. They’re all soaked in the front.” His index finger ran over the darker shade on your panties and he groaned as he properly felt how wet you were. Your body was craving and calling for him and to think moments before you were trying to tell him no.

You whined and bucked your hips at his contact and he pushed your hips down in protest.

“Sit still.” He commanded you and with a whine you obliged. Little pants left your mouth instead and he watched as your bottom lip slid between your teeth as he pressed harder on your cunt. Snapping your eyes shut, you jerked your head away but couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving your mouth.

So fucking reactive.

Ransom let his finger softly trail around on your undies, teasing and taunting you. He wanted more from you. He wanted to see your control slip. Finally, he let his thumb press into your clit and rub a slight circle.

Obeying Ransoms command to not move, you tried to keep your hips frozen but couldn’t help it as your back arched. Your grip on the desk tightened and a helpless sound left your throat as a spark ignited up your spine from his thumb.

You had never felt anything like this. Your whole body felt Ransoms one touch and you felt like you were vibrating. You needed more. More of him, of his touch-just more. The craving of friction between your legs was so strong and you wanted to close your legs so bad but restrained from fear of Ransoms reaction. But he was teasing you. His kiss was pure fire and lacked restraint, but now he was still. Every one of his moves intentional. Maybe if you asked he would oblige you, even though he hadn’t before.

“More, please, I need more.” Your eyes stared at his but he didn’t look up at you. He seemed to be in some sort of trance, his eyes seared wholly on his thumb as he gently nudged you. “Father…” You begged and finally he looked up.

Once his eyes met yours and he saw the eagerness in them, his resolve snapped. In a blink your panties were off and you lay bare before him.

You were so much more soaked than Ransom had realized. It was practically pouring out of your hole. He needed to fill you now.

Something between a groan and a growl left his mouth and he reached forward for you. Clutching the back of your neck he harshly sat you up. His other hand was already waiting and was quick to push past your surprised mouth.

“Suck.” You immediately took the two fingers around your tongue and obeyed, your wide eyes never leaving his.

Pulled his hand from your mouth, Ransom let it fall to its rightful place between your legs. Fuck him, you were dripping. Messily he smeared your wetness around on your cunt, “All of this for me, baby, and i’ve barely fucking touched you.” Your eyes flashed as you recognized his language but you didn’t do more than whimper at his assault on you.

In circles he rubbed your bud, abandoning the idea of two fingers and using his whole hand. You whimpered and panted as you looked up at him helplessly. Towering over you, he tightened his grip on the back of your neck and pushed you higher to meet him.

Just as your mouths met, he pushed one finger inside of you. Fucking hell, you were tight. Ransom didn’t think he had ever had a cunt this tight before. Not even mentioning the fact that it was untouched. He knew you were going to be the death of him.

You let out a low moan at his intrusion in you and he couldn’t help but let his need out by gripping the back of your head harder and his mouth moving against yours faster. As he moved his single digit inside of you, you let your head fall back and Ransom watched as your eyes fluttered shut. Tired of ordering you around but wanting your submission to him, he changed tactics.

“So fucking tight but you’re grinding on my hand like a bunny, baby. Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t make you pure, honey. You’re a slut just like the rest of ‘em, huh?”

Because of his words or because he had slipped a second finger in you, harsh and quick, your eyes snapped open meeting his. Your jaw was slack but the only sound that left your lips was helpless moans and whimpers at his pace inside you. You shook your head no at Ransom but he only grinned in response.

“Really? ‘Cause i’m fucking you stupid with my fingers, haven’t even gotten my cock yet, and you can’t even form a sentence.” His tone was mocking and condescending and you couldn’t help but whimper. You shook your head at him harder in denial but with a curl of his fingers you were back to being subject to the onslaught of his fingers.

Ransom quickened his fingers rhythm and tried to add a scissor motion within you to help widen you out, but fuck. You were still sucking his fingers in just as much as his first one. Even if he had to tear you hole to hole, he was gonna make his cock fit. You would take him.

“Don’t fucking argue with me.” He seethed down at you and your response. You whimpered but Ransom gripped your neck harder, forcing your face up to his. “Your soaked cunt is sucking my fingers in like it just can’t get enough and only greedy whores act like that.” You whimpered but didn’t shake your head at his words this time.

“Admit you’re nothing but a greedy slut.” He ordered and you gaped up at him. At first your mouth opened and closed in shock but finally you swallowed and obeyed.

“I’m nothing but a greedy slut,” It left your lips so shamefully and was followed by a soft moan from the constant motion of his fingers and he growled. Fuck this, he wasn’t waiting any longer.

“Undo my pants.” He grunted out to you and his gaze dropped to his hand sinking into you. With fumbling fingers your hands met his belt and you quickly tried to undo it. It was haphazard and took you longer than you wanted but you blamed it on the two fingers inside you.

Once his belt was loose and his fly was down you looked back up at him expectantly. There was a glint in his eye as he licked him lips and focused back on you.

“Take my dick out.” Ransom watched as your throat bobbed nervously, your hands lacking less urgency as they moved to the waste-band of his slacks. With a slight push, his pants lay at his ankles and he stood before you in his black button down and boxers. “Take it out!” He ordered harsher this time and his fingers matched his cruel tone as they pressed harder inside you.

You moaned helplessly and obeyed. Pulling at his boxers until they slipped down his legs, you freed his dick. You didn’t want to look at him, at his most intimate body part, but your eyes couldn’t help but ogle.

Ransoms dick looked almost angry- all puffy, red, and dripping in need. But it was the length and size that made you gasp. He was big. Bigger than his fingers, big. You already felt so stretched from his two fingers alone, how were you ever going to take him? As if he could read your mind Ransom cut off your thoughts.

“I’ll make it fit. ‘N you’re gonna take every fucking inch.”

Like they were never there, his hands left your cunt and he mixed your juices with his as he stroked himself with the same hand he just had inside you.

You whimpered helplessly at his lack of contact on you again. Your body was alive, buzzing and burning, and you felt…close. Close to what- you weren’t sure but you knew you needed him back.

His hand dropped from around your neck and he pushed your chest until you lay back on the desk again. Nerves bundled up into your stomach as you saw him move himself closer to your mound. This seemed like a really bad idea.

Ransoms hand cupped your breast and squeezed as he tried to ease the tension building within him. He was stroking himself as he leaned forward and pressed the tip of him into your clit. You whined at the pressure, it was everything but not enough at the same time.

He moved his dick around on your cunt, groaning to himself at the sight. Your hips came up slightly as you sought for more pressure from Ransom and he obliged tapping quick, sharp slaps to your bud with his cock. This was about to be the best fuck of his life.

Finally, he lined himself up with your entrance. His hand pressing down on your pelvis to keep you still. His eyes flickered up to you for a split second and he cursed under his breath at the fear that was held in your eyes, as you should be.

With precision he rolled his hips forward and felt as just the tip slid inside you. You whimpered from below him and he couldn’t even blame you. He could feel all of you, wrapped around just that bit of him and he still had so much more to go.

With a little more pressure he pushed forward and immediately you gasped in protest.

“I can’t! It’s too much! Father, please!” You pleaded with Ransom and your eyes screwed shut at the pressure and pain at your hole. You weren’t ready, you were scared. He was too big.

“Shhhh…” Ransom shushed you and left your breast to cup your chin. “It’s okay. You just need to relax, baby.”

You shook your head at him. You couldn’t do it. But just when you thought it was already too much, Ransom pushed into you some more. A cry left your mouth and you moved to get away from him. Your hands came up in a flail, pushing at his shoulders and you tried to move your legs to gain leverage to push him off of you.

You couldn’t help the tear that left the corner of your eye as the pain sank down your legs. You wanted him off now, but Ransom was ignoring your resistance. He only held onto you harder as the pressure and pain became worse between your legs. In desperation you slapped at him and he growled angrily as he finally lifted his head to your attention.

“Stop fucking moving.” He ordered at you and released his hold on you to grab your moving arms. In a second, they were pinned at your sides, his breath heavy above you. “It’s only going to hurt worse if you don’t stop fucking moving. So when I tell you to relax-you fucking relax. Now stay the fuck still and take it.”

“But it’s too much!” You cried at him.

“Then fucking scream for all I care but stop moving.” He growled at you and you whimpered. Your breaths came up short as you tried to stop your crying but nothing helped. The pain didn’t fade, it only got worse as Ransom started to push forward again.

He wasn’t even in halfway and you were already a blubbering mess. ‘N fuck, he couldn’t seem to get any further. Your cunt was practically pushing him out but he wasn’t gonna fall for that.

In one stroke he pulled himself out and then gave a sharp thrust into you, your body heeding at his force and Ransom had to release your arms to catch himself on the desk. Fuck-he felt like he was about to cum. His thrust had worked, he was sitting in you almost to the hilt, but you were so damn tight around him he couldn’t move. How fucking pathetic of him if he got this far only to cum in one stroke.

Underneath Ransom though, you were not as happy. Your now free hands were gripping his biceps as you sobbed in pain underneath him. You felt him everywhere, was he in your stomach? He was so deep and you were so full but it didn’t feel good at all. It was nothing like the sharp tingles he was giving you earlier with his fingers-no it was pure pain and intrusion. Tears left your eyes and you mumbled incoherent pleads to Ransom to stop. You didn’t like this at all, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat inside you.

“Fuck, baby. Your cunt is gripping me like a vice. I don’t even feel like I can move, you’re holding me so tight.” Ransom lowered his forehead to rest on the desk above your shoulder.

Inch by inch he rolled his hips backwards easing out before slowly plunging back in until finally he sat fully inside you. You cried out loudly but it seemed to be drowned out by his loud groan. The movement burned and scraped your walls. Your nails dug into Ransoms shoulder as you tried to find some outlet for the pain but nothing was helping.

“Please, it hurts!” You tried one more time and you felt Ransoms breathe on your shoulder before you heard him chuckle.

Slowly he leaned back up above you, his eyes meeting yours again. His eyes held pleasure and mischief whereas you knew yours were full of tears and pain. How could be laughing at you, right now?

In a slow thrust he pulled out of you before pushing in again, harder this time. You cried out woefully as the pain bloomed again within you.

“Baby, nothing could stop me from fucking you right now. This is the best pussy i’ve ever been in and I would have to be fuckin’ crazy to give it up.” With his words he stood fully up again, seated in you.

He reached down and lifted your legs, locking them around his waist. Nervously you played with your hands again, unsure what to do with them now that they left his biceps. Ransom reached for them and lifted them above your head. He placed your grip on the edge of the desk you were lying on.

“You’re gonna need to hold on, princess.” His voice washed over you like water and you listened.

Your grip tightened on the edge as he pushed into you again. A whimper left your lips and you let your head fall back as you accepted your fate. Ransoms hands roamed your body greedily before he anchored them on your hips.

His thrusts were hard but measured as he started his slow rhythm inside you. He let his gaze wander from your pinched face to your tits. They bounced when his body found yours each time. He was in pure heaven. His cock wrapped by your tight cunt and the sight of you finally submitting to him.

He couldn’t help it as his hips started to roll into each thrust, desperate for contact with you. As he moved your eyes flew open and a gasp left your mouth.

“Fuck, I found that spot didn’t I?” He mocked you as he rocked and you whimpered in response. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as before and the feeling blooming in your stomach was better than just his fingers. Everything you were craving before seemed to be answered by his thrusts. As your body heated again, you felt that familiar buzz on your skin and you moaned helplessly as he started to pick up speed.

“Fucking milking my cock.” Ransom teethed out and you felt a sharp hold on your jaw.

“Open your fucking eyes.” You quickly obeyed and he pulled your face up, angling at the lewd act in front of you.

Blood coated the base of his dick and he let out a moan from the sight of your lost innocence.

You watched as he disappeared in you over and over again and moaned as each thrust hit home. Watching, as well as feeling him inside you, sent jolts across your skin.

“That’s right,” Ransom huskily said to you, seeing your reaction to him. “What would that prick Timothy think of you if he could see you being fucked, right now. Hm? That you’re a fucking whore? Being fucked by your pastor in the back of the church he attends every Sunday. Such a god damn slut.”

His words sunk deep and you tried to deny his proclamations but they only fueled the fire in you. He was so deep and you felt every single thrust. The buzz in your bones reached further and you helplessly tried to meet each of his thrusts. Your clit caught on his pelvis at each rock of his hips and you couldn’t stop the little noises that left your throat as the feeling within you reached a pinnacle.

Ransom felt your pussy spasm around him and he grunted at each thrust. Releasing your face, you fell limply back flat onto the desk and he rutted into you harder as he grabbed onto your waist again. He knew you were close and it was all but animalistic how he chased it for you. He wasn’t gonna let some wimp bastard steal your first orgasm. It was going to be him, all of your first were going to be with him and, fuck, that made his hips roll harder.

One moment you were present, the lewd claps and sucking sounds echoing through your head, and the next you were in the heavens. Your body arched off the desk as blood rushed into your ears and you barely heard as you cried out from the feeling that overtook your body. It was pure electricity. Running from your toes to your skull and you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want it to stop though. No, you wanted to live here. In this constant state of pleasure and stars. It was the best feeling you had ever experienced and it consumed you whole.

“Hol-ly shit!” Ransom shouted. Your cunt squeezed his length as you came and he knew he was right fucking there. You grasped him perfectly, every inch being swallowed by you and watching you come around him was all it took for him to find his own nut.

He fucked you through your shivers and spasms and you still whimpered underneath him as his thrusts became faster and irregular.

“Fuck, fuck-FUCK!” He grunted out as finally his orgasm overtook him. At his dicks first flex within you he fell on top of your still body. His hips still moving as his cum bursted out of him in quick ropes.

His own orgasm seemed to last for hours. His dick still twitching as he finally got the hearing in his ears back. Never in his life had he came that hard. Even when he was a virgin, pussy didn’t feel that good. Cumming didn’t feel that good. No, that was all you. Ransom gave you that credit.

You moved beneath the weight of Ransom, your breathing slowly starting to become normal again. You couldn’t help but let your hands fall onto his back, slowly feeling the muscles that were hidden beneath his shirt. Realization struck you as you both settled down from your highs.

You had just lost your virginity. Had sex before marriage. Let him curse and mock you as he took it from you and you couldn’t help but feel…content. You knew you should be regretting your actions. Shoving him off of you and leaving the room in a hurry, but you didn’t.

It was the priest who took it from you. He knew much more than you and you couldn’t help but feel pride that it had been with him you gave yourself to. Still worry pinched your stomach.

“Am I going to get pregnant?” You questioned. It was more of an inward thought but you had whispered it aloud to Ransom.

Fuck, he had forgotten a condom and of course you wouldn’t be on birth control. Never had he been so consumed by pussy that he let safety slip.

Ransom groaned as he pushed himself up on his forearms. He was rarely ever spent after sex. Maybe on very drunk nights he lazily passed out or even after multiple rounds but you had exhausted him just from that one cum alone. Looking down at you he took in your state. Your hair was a mess around your head and your cheeks were still flushed from being fucked. He had the urge to take you again but the urge to sleep was stronger.

“I’ll take care of it.” He responded. He didn’t really have it in his budget right now to pay for a fifty dollar pill but it was better than the thousands spent on a kid.

Pushing himself fully off of you and standing, Ransom eased out of you and you hissed in protest. Your walls were sore from the sex and he knew he had done his job properly. Hopefully you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a couple of days.

Tucking your elbows under you, you leaned up fully taking in the sight of you. Faint bruises laced your hips from his grasp and you gasped. Had he really been gripping you that hard?

Ransom moved to tuck his dick into his boxers as he pulled his pants up, quickly tightening his belt. He tossed you your under things and clothes and you stared at him in confusion. That’s it? So much had just happened and he was giving you your clothes like it was casual. This was not casual.

“But,” You moved to sit up as you quickly worked to cover your nude state. “we’re gonna be married right?”

Ransom turned to you. The question catching him off guard. No one had ever asked him such a wild question before and it brought reality back to him. He was a priest, you were his pupil, this could spread like wildfire and his whole position could be threatened. He didn’t want to stay here permanently but until things cooled down for him, it was his safest option. Marriage, on the other hand, was a little too permanent for his liking.

But as Ransom took in the sight of you, wincing as you stood and frantically trying to put on your undies, he was reminded just how perfect you were. You were easy and convenient. You had obeyed his every command without fail and none of his previous fucks had ever gotten him off like you had.

He smiled at you and moved to cup your face with his hands. Pulling you up to your toes he let his lips press into yours. So different from the previous times he had kissed you, he put meaning and care into this one.

“Baby, you were made for me. Of course we’re getting married.” You smiled at his response, leaning back into his lips.

But you missed the glint in his eye when he spoke. He wasn’t gonna marry you because it was the proper way for you to be treated. No, he was marrying you because there was no way in hell another man would ever touch you again. You were his. For whenever and wherever he pleased. An object for his pleasure, not yours.

Ransom released you and let you return to finish dressing. He desperately needed to shower off the sweat that had collected on his back and go to fucking bed. Your pussy had drained the life out of him but he couldn’t complain if every time he fucked you it left him this spent.

“I’m all sticky and wet. It’s uncomfortable.” You whined as you finished putting on your last shoe. You moved awkwardly as you stood. Your face scrunched at the feeling of cum running out of you. Ransom wished he would see it dripping out.

“Let it sit, baby. I want you to remember me for a little bit longer.” He grabbed hit coat off the rack and folded it over his arm.

“Can I tell my parents we’re engaged?” There was so much hope in your voice as you collected your belongings yourself.

“No, not yet.”

“But they’re gonna be thrilled by the news!” You eagerly looked up at him and he felt irritation climb his spine. Maybe a sweet cunt wasn’t worth this much annoyance. Youth was also an ignorant curse.

“Some people won’t understand us, princess. Won’t understand God joining us together. Just give it time and i’ll let you know when we can tell them. Together, hm?” He cupped your cheek and even appeased you with a kiss on the forehead. You still sighed in complaint as you both head towards the door, but stayed silent.

Ransom knew you would abide by his word and wouldn’t tell a soul. Maybe one day you would realize the fault in letting him command you, but it wasn’t today. ‘N he knew it wouldn’t be for a long while. He had you whipped good. Especially when your soreness passed and you were craving only what he gave you, you would come to him begging for more. Probably go down on your knees for him.

Blood rushed to his dick and the thought and he grinned to himself. It was only after he had flipped the light switch and closed the door behind ya’ll, sealing the memories of your actions in the room did he realize he didn’t even pick up the stuff from the floor that he hurriedly shoved off.

He didn’t even catch your name.

[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. Part of the Psycho Killer AU

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.”

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