#Ransom Drysdale x f!reader

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> To: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> To: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it? 

fin.

[thezombieprostitute]

The Sweater Incident

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: mistaking an elegant holiday fete for an ugly christmas sweater party

A/N2: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Angst, Lots of angst. Let me know if I missed any!

"I still can't believe your parents are hosting an ugly sweater party," you chirp at Ransom.

"Me either," Ransom tells you. "Normally they do that whole fancy schmancy thing."

"Huh. I wonder if they're trying to be 'cool' or 'normal' or whatever."

"Possible," Ransom shrugs.

"And thanks, again, for letting me do the shopping for it. I picked a few couples sweaters that I think you'll like."

"It's not a problem," he smiles at you. "I know you always find the best sweaters. Just look at my closet."

You giggle as he holds you close and kisses your forehead. "Now pick out your favorites for this thing."

After looking them over a few times Ransom finally settles on the couples sweaters that say "I Come in Peace" and "I'm Peace". You can't say your surprised he went with the most tawdry of sweaters. It's gonna be a great way to get his family riled up.

You realize what's going on a few seconds too late. Ransom walked you in with an arm around your shoulder and his trademark shit-eating grin. The first few people you see are his parents and his cousin Meg, all dressed immaculately.

Linda's jaw drops and she immediately starts yelling at the two of you, mainly you.

"Richard! Look at this!" she screeches, jamming her finger at you. "Do you see what this degenerate is doing our son?!"

She turns to Ransom, "how did she convince you to do this? I know she's gotten you into pulling pranks! Is that what this is?"

Richard starts joining Linda in the screaming and yelling but you don't hear any of their actual words. Tears are clouding your vision and you're having trouble breathing. You run back out the front door and the sobs start coming.

You hear Ransom calling after you but you just keep moving. When he catches up to you, he grabs your arm and you try to pull away.

"What the hell? What's wrong?" he yells.

"You tricked me! You embarrassed me! You---" your crying cuts you off.

"I thought you loved pulling pranks," he rebuts. "You always say we're partners in crime with this stuff."

"Exactly, Ransom! PARTNERS! If you'd asked me to do this with you, of course I would have, but you decided to pull this prank on me as well as your family!"

"I thought you'd get the joke!"

"I get the joke on your family, but not on me!" you scream at him.

"Oh, so I'm never supposed to pull a prank on you?" he argues.

"You can do that, of course, just not ones that embarrass me in front of your family! I've already got the worst relationship with them that this is just...it feels cruel."

That makes him stop in his tracks. You know Ransom doesn't always understand the limits so, between sobs, you try to explain.

"Your family already hates me, Ran. But we both know that and so when we're in on a prank together, it's like I've got someone at my side against the unstoppable rampage that is your family's disdain for me. When you do something like this, it adds to their perception of me and it's no longer me and you against them. It's you and them against me."

Ransom blinks a few times, unsure of how to proceed. You step away from him and pull out your phone to get an Uber home.

Back at your shared apartment, you're curled up on the couch, wearing what Ransom had dubbed "your angry hoodie". It was an oversized hoodie that you could curl yourself up into, pull on the drawstrings, and shut out the world. You've stopped crying, but you're still, understandably, miserable so you don't hear Ransom entering with several bags. It's not until you catch the scent of your favorite takeout food that you perk up and start hearing Ransom. But you're still so angry and hurt you're not leaving the security of the angry hoodie.

Ransom recognizes what you're wearing and respects your desire to not be touched or talked to. Instead he moves the coffee table over to the couch and starts setting up a veritable buffet of your favorite foods. You hear him open up a can and you're pretty sure it's a can of your favorite soda. He sits on the opposite side of the couch and turns on the TV, selecting one of your comfort shows to start playing.

You wait for him to say something but Ransom continues to respect the rules of the angry hoodie and doesn't say a damn thing. Even as the food gets cold and the drink gets lukewarm.

You open the hood just enough to let yourself see him on the couch. He looks chagrined. You can tell he hasn't been able to sit still, fidgeting every second he's been on the couch, but he's staying silent with his hand to his mouth, like he's thinking.

You open up the hood a little more, "I'm not gonna forgive you so easily."

"Wouldn't expect you too," he admits. "But at least I can start trying to make amends."

You nod and adjust the hoodie just enough that you can start dishing yourself up some of the food. Sure enough, everything on the coffee table is one of your favorites. An assortment of all the different restaurants and food types that you love. You enjoy your food and the show Ransom selected, sitting for a long while before you realize Ransom hasn't eaten anything yet.

"Are you going to eat?"

"I got this for you. Not gonna eat it without permission."

"Thank you," you nod, opening the hoodie up a bit more. "You may eat." Wordlessly he makes himself up a plate.

It takes a few more episodes of your comfort show for you remove the hood, indicating you're ready to hear Ransom out.

"I know I fucked up," Ransom says. "And, thanks to your explanation, I know how I fucked up. I can't undo what I did, but, again thanks to you, I know that there are things I can do to make amends. Starting with promising you that I'll never do anything like it ever again. You're the last person in the world that I ever wanted to hurt and I'm genuinely very sorry about this whole thing."

You sniffle a little, remembering the burning embarrassment you'd felt. "I'll accept your apology, but you've still got a lot of amends to make."

"I understand," he nods.

"For now, I'm going to congratulate you on handling your first real emotional fight as part of a couple. Specifically for not running away. You came back, you faced me, while respecting my rules, and I appreciate that." You see Ransom's shoulders significantly relax at that. "And as soon as you're done eating, you're giving me a foot rub."

He huffs, "anything for you."

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness;

@lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[navybrat817]

Temporary Job

Pairing: Soft!Dark Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

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

Word Count: 250

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist ⚓ Ransom Drysdale Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Maybe a smut one, vacation in Italy like in Naples. They rented this villa and reader is wearing a really teeny tiny bikini. The rest is up to your imagination

Four weeks of fun: Naples

Ransom Drysdale x beautiful

Warnings: 18+ readers, smut, blow job outside, swearing, naked!Ransom

Ransom stood by the pool, looking out at the beautiful view, with a drink in one hand and your hair in the other.

"Fuck," His head fell back as you bobbed your head up and down, swallowing around his cock. "That's it. Good girl." Ransom moaned as you worked him closer to his release. "Fahk, just like that..." Your moaned around him, his salty taste almost sending yourself over the edge as he pushed his hips forwards with your fingers digging into his ass cheeks. "Fuck, baby-" Ransom moaned loudly as he came, spilling himself down your throat.

You pulled off him with a pop and proud smile as Ransom caught his breath. "So, how'd you like the villa?" You asked, getting up off the patio.

Ransom handed you his drink before turning king himself away. "I fucking love the spot we're standing in." He smirked at you as you took a swig of his drink. "Why don't we explore the rest of the place first, then I'll tell you how much I love it." He winked, making you laugh.

"Shouldn't we unpack first?"

Ransom raised his eyebrow at you, "I mean, we can, but I was kinda thinking about eating you out on the balcony before we did." He shrugged and began walking backwards away from you. "Whatever. You decided." He smirked before turning around and walking towards the villa.

"You decide..." You rolled your eyes playfully and followed behind Ransom, "Like I have a choice."

-------------------------

Most of your first day at the villa was spent exactly how you'd expected it to be with Ransom. Naked and fucking.

Thankfully, by the morning, Ransom was hungry enough to let the two of you put clothes on so you could venture out and find something to eat.

You spent most of the morning eating breakfast, looking around the market and little stores, then grabbing lunch before heading back to the villa.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you returned, which meant it was time to relax by the pool for the rest of the day until dinner.

After putting the groceries away, you went to your room to get changed into a bikini whilst Ransom made some cocktails for the pair of you and headed out to the pool.

Ransom sat down on a sun lounger by the pool, facing the amazing view and for the first time in a long time let out a relaxed sigh. He wasn't used to this, being able to just relax.  Sure, he's been on vacation with his friends, but it wasn't exactly relaxing. God knows any time around his family isn't. But with you, he can just take a breath and enjoy-

Ransom's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he choked on his drink, quickly sitting up and putting his drink down before he spilt it.

You looked up from your bag to him from where you were bent over next to your sun lounger and frowned, "You okay, Ran?"

He cleared his throat and nodded. "F-fine," He coughed before sitting up and facing you. "Is that new?" He asked, pointing to your bikini.

You smiled and stood up. "Yep. Like it?" You said as you gave him a spin.

Ransom groaned, biting his bottom lip as he oogled you. Ransom jnew you were wearing a bikini but he hadn't expected you to wear one that was so... fuck, you're ass wasn't even covered. "Do I like it? Beautiful, look at me." He stood up and showed his very obvious tent, making you giggle.

"Ransom, you're always hard." You smiled as you sat down and held the sun tan lotion out to him. "Can you put this on me, please? And no funny business." You smirked to yourself.

Ransom groaned loudly but took the lotion anyway. "Seriously? You want me to be respectful when you're looking like this." He huffed.

"Lotion first, Hugh, then funny business. Do you want sunburn on your ass?" You asked with a raised eyebrow over your shoulder.

Ransom hummed. "Fair point. Although, explaining to my mother why my ass is burnt would be hilarious." He chuckled and started applying the cream to your back. Once he finished, he turned around and laid down on his sun lounger. "My turn." He grinned as he he held the lotion out for you.

"Okay -" You rolled your eyes at him as he laid with his shorts kicked off and his hand wrapped around his hard dick. "You can do that yourself, Hugh. I'm getting in the pool."

Ransom's mouth fell open, "But I'll burn." He pouted as he watched you walk towards the pool.

"Should have thought of that." You said then stuck your tongue out at him.

Ransom growled. You thunk you can tease him? A devious smirk curled at his lips before he jumped up from his lounger and raced towards you.

"Don't even - RANSOM!" You screamed out as he scooped you up into his arms and jumped into the water with you.

He'd pay for it later, but that's what he was counting on. He liked being your bad boy, even on vacation.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 2

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The one person who turned your school life into a nightmare will take over your father's business.

You never had any interest in following in your father's footsteps. Tom had told you from the beginning that you weren't fit for this work. And you hated the business; you wanted to burn it to the ground.

Even though you had never come home for several years, you kept sending your father monthly money. That money was enough for him to move and buy a new house in a big city. Last Christmas, you called your father and told him to sell the house, but he said nothing.

Something never changed: your father would put work before his own happiness.

Now you know why he didn’t want to sell the house. Because he had found someone to continue the business. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky is the popular kid from the wealthiest family in town. Everywhere he went, people followed him. His entourage echoed his every move.

When Bucky said something about you, his followers echoed his sentiments. If Bucky said A, his entourage would cover B to Z, and he never stopped them.

You once thought that he looked down on you because he was rich. But after moving to the city with Ransom and meeting many influential and wealthy people in the business world, you realize that Barnes' fortune was nothing compared to the 0.1%.

Now, you see him as just a regular person.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "This is a big mistake. I shouldn't have come back here." You walked past them, not even glancing in Bucky's direction, and headed upstairs to grab your things.

Tom followed after you. “Y/N, please, we can talk about this. I didn’t know how to tell you.” He knew he had been an absent father. After you left for college, your relationship worsened.

You only called him on holiday, and he was afraid to call you first. He didn't know how to start the conversation when he had the chance to talk.

You stayed silent, slinging your bag over your shoulder and holding your laptop.

“Where are you going to stay?” Tom asked, desperation in his voice. “From what you told me, you don’t have much cash.”

He was right. Your bank account was blocked. But you still had some cash and your Rolex, which you could pawn. You glanced at your watch as you headed down the stairs.

Distracted, you missed the last step and started to fall. “Ahh!”

You braced for the impact, but instead, you hit something solid.

“Did you hurt your foot?” Bucky asked, holding you steady. His voice was worried. He had been about to leave, not wanting to cause more conflict between you and your father.

You looked at his face, searching for the smug expression he always wore when he tormented you with his “silly pranks.”

Quickly, you pulled away from his grasp. You didn’t want to be near or share the same air with him.

You walked past him, treating him like he didn’t exist. Before opening the door, you grabbed an umbrella—a habit of always being prepared.

As you opened the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, turned around, and saw Bucky stopping you.

“Please, listen to your father first,” Bucky said softly, sounding anxious. Your father stood at the top of the stairs, speechless.

At this moment, you felt like an outsider. They seemed more like father and son than you and Tom ever had.

You pushed Bucky's hand off your shoulder. "Keep your hands off of me!" Your voice was filled with years of pent-up anger and pain, each word like a knife stabbing into Bucky.

You slammed the door and stormed off, your heart pounding with a mix of rage and betrayal.

Back at the house, Bucky and Tom stood staring at the closed door.

Tom sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Give her a moment. She's been through a lot."

Bucky, still shaken, asked softly, "What happened to her?"

⌚

At the pawn shop, you tapped your fingers anxiously on the glass counter, awaiting Mr. Rogers' appraisal of your Rolex watch. His gaze met yours, and he inquired, "Do you know how much it's worth?"

You nodded, a sense of unease creeping over you. "I bought it three years ago for around $25,000. With the current market price, and since I didn’t bring the box and certificate, the price will be lower. I would say it’s around $8,000."

Mr. Rogers's eyes widened in surprise at your precise evaluation. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Ahem, you're right. And because you’re Tom’s daughter, I will give you that price."

You quietly sighed. You had just arrived at one shop, and he already knew you. But what could you do? This was the only pawn shop open this morning.

"Wait a second, I'll grab the money for you," Mr. Rogers announced before disappearing into the back room.

Taking a seat, you fidgeted with your phone, searching for the nearest hotel or motel.

Just as you began to scroll, your phone rang. It was Maya, your lawyer. You had chosen to work with her because she was your assistant's friend. Money was tight, so you couldn't afford a well-known lawyer.

“Hello?” you answered the call.

“Hi, are you alright? You have arrived in your hometown?” Maya asked.

“Yes, I have. By the way, is there any progress?” you inquired.

“Yes. They already looked through it. I guess you could hear good news in 3 days,” Maya replied.

You sighed in relief. “I’m glad. Thank you.”

After a brief conversation with Maya, you ended the call. Then you heard someone clear their throat.

“Ahem.”

You glanced up to see that the person behind the counter was no longer Mr. Rogers but his son, Steve Rogers, who was also Bucky’s friend.

Back then, Steve didn’t say anything when you were made fun of. But he didn’t do anything to stop the silly pranks either. So his name was also written in your black book.

But now you weren’t the same person anymore. You were a 'female Midas'. You were supposed to be confident. Steve used to look at you as if you were invisible. Now you should do the same.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him. There was a stack of cash, probably $9,000, in front of you. Mr. Rogers was quite a generous man.

You picked up the money and stuffed it into your bag. It was enough to live here for 3 days before you went back to the city.

Steve noticed that you didn’t even look at him. He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while. Are you staying?”

You continued to ignore him. As you exited the door, you clapped your hands, making Steve jump. Then you muttered, “Oh, it’s just a fly,” as you walked away.

🏨

You left the pawn shop and glanced back at your phone to find a cheap hotel or motel nearby. As you walked, sweat poured down your back, making you feel uncomfortably sticky. It was the most strenuous workout you had in a while, just trying to find a place to rest.

Eventually, you stumbled upon an interesting hotel on the booking app. The hotel was located inside a big building that sold outdoor equipment. It was cheap and conveniently close to your location.

Sweat dripping down your forehead, you kept walking until you finally reached the building. You were impressed by the natural surroundings, with shops surrounded by nature. The building was named Bronze Adventure Gear.

Upon entering, you were greeted by an employee.

“Welcome to Bronze Adventure Gear. How can we help you?” they asked.

You were taken aback by their energy; it was still 10 a.m., and they were already bustling with customers.

“I’m here for the hotel,” you replied. “I know it’s early, but I just need a place to rest.”

“No worries. It’s off-season, and there are many empty rooms. We’ll guide you to the receptionist,” they said, leading you further into the building.

Grateful for the hospitality, you thanked them as they left you at the receptionist.

The hotel was called Bronze Lodge.

“We’ll leave you to our friend,” the employee said before departing.

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you tapped the reception table and waited.

“Welcome to the Bronze Lodge. How can I help you?” a friendly female voice greeted you. However, to your ears, it sounded like venom. It was Natasha Romanoff, the popular girl in town.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a sensation far different from when you had encountered Bucky and Steve again.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Natasha's voice cut through the air.

You tried to compose yourself. “Yup.”

“Goodness. It’s been a long time. And you're so beautiful. Ah, where are my manners? Are you staying at this hotel?” Natasha wore her trademark smile—the same one you hated seeing back in school, where her girl gang would always talk behind your back.

"You know what-?" You were about to say, but then second thoughts about leaving crossed your mind.

That's when you heard the most enormous thunderclap of your life.

“Are you surprised? The weather is quite unpredictable,” Natasha remarked casually.

She glanced at your belongings. “Oh, and you brought your yellow umbrella. Such a nostalgic touch. You never changed,” she continued, her words like needles pricking at your skin.

You clenched your fists, your frustration bubbling up inside you.

“You’re lucky. There’s a room ready for you. Here’s the key. I hope you enjoy staying with us,” Natasha said, offering you the card key with a sweet smile.

You snatched the key from her hand. “I’ll try.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to the elevator. As you left, Natasha's smile faltered, and she quickly grabbed her phone to make a call. “You won’t believe who checked into the hotel today,” she said eagerly.

*********

The moment you entered the hotel room, you threw yourself onto the bed, exhausted. You turned around and stared at the ceiling.

The rain and thunder outside seemed oblivious to your desire for peace. You starting to regret coming back here.

Closing your eyes, you tried to ease your racing mind. But four hours later, what was meant to be a short nap turned into a longer one.

'Knock. Knock.'

You were jolted awake by the sound of someone knocking at your door. Lazily, you left the bed and peered through the peephole, wondering who it could be since you hadn't requested anything.

You gasped when you saw Bucky standing outside. What on earth did he want? Wasn't it enough that you had already encountered him and his friends earlier today?

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before opening the door.

When you did, you remained silent, not wanting to converse with him.

Bucky said, "Tom is looking for you."

"I see. Thanks for the info," you replied, moving to close the door, but he stopped it.

"What do you want?" you sighed in frustration.

"You have to talk to him," Bucky insisted.

Closing your eyes, you responded icily, "I'll talk to him when I'm ready. But I don't need you hovering around. I certainly don't want to see your face."

His expression seemed to reflect grief when you said that, though you dismissed it as your own emotions. Why would he feel guilty towards you?

"And how did you manage to find me?" you asked.

"It’s easy," Bucky replied nonchalantly, "since my family owns this business. I can access anything I want, including information about guests staying here."

There it was, the smug face finally making its appearance, accompanied by that cocky explanation.

You gritted your teeth. Somehow, the idea of being in prison didn't seem so bad anymore.

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Love of My Life (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 10, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

This is it, gang, the moment Ran has avoided for soooo long... No warnings, and I even avoided cursing (there is one 'damn' and some taking the lord's name in vain lol). Hopefully, it still seems like Ran then! 🤣 Unedited, short.

"Watch out!"

Ran yanks his foot off the gas and swivels the beamer to the right, missing his chance to merge up the ramp to Drop Offs.

"My god, Hugh, what is wrong with you? Should I have called Dubois?"

"No," he bites back, "I just didn't see that guy in my blindspot."

Ran is utterly distracted while driving you to the airport. You're on your way back to Beijing for who knows how long, and since everything changed two days ago, he's struggled to focus.

Now he has to loop around the entire place to get back to your departure door. That gives him time, but he hasn't used that wisely so far. Why would traffic be different?

His head pivots back and forth, triple-checking his mirrors.

Your hand lightly lays on his arm. He can't feel the warmth of your skin through his sweater sleeve, sadly.

"Hugh," you soothe, "we'll figure out the money and get you back out to visit soon, I promise."

For once--for one bizarre and shining moment in Ransom Drysdale's life--this isn't about money, so he huffs in annoyance.

"That's not... Let's just get you there."

He takes only a split second to look at your soft smile before overly attending the road. He's not thinking about the heated conversation in this very car the other night, he's ignoring the elephant in the back seat with a tattooed forehead that reads "marriage," and he's definitely swallowing three gigantic stone words.

His car pulls up to the busy curb, and you start for the door handle.

"Wait," he shout-whispers, unable to figure out what his voice should sound like. If he speaks deeper, will that be more serious? If he's quiet, will it seem gentle and genuine? He has no idea. Ran's never told anyone this before, not deliberately, not for real.

You squeeze his hand sweetly when he reaches out.

"I promise I charged my phone."

"No, that--"

"And I've CC-ed you on all my itinerary emails."

"Great but--"

"Yes, I ordered more night cream for the hotel, and I'll keep up with--"

"Just SHUT UP for a--" Ran covers his mouth "--sorry. I--I just..."

He can't finish the damn phrase. The pressure in his chest is topping out the meters and he can't do it.

Patiently, you sit back in the front seat, sighing, eyes darting between him and the airport security guard keeping the flow of cars steady. You bite your lip instead of prompting him.

He has another false start.

By this point, Ransom might cry in frustration.

This is not supposed to be so difficult. Why has he made this so difficult? You two have shared far more intimate things than this. Christ, he's proposed already! It's a good thing you've asked him not to tell anybody because he can't even say I love you.

"I know you do, Hugh. It's okay."

Did he? Did he just blurt that out in the middle of thought?!? That's twice now then, but perhaps the first instance you've truly heard. Third time's the charm maybe...

"I love you," he says, no chance to be mistaken. He hears it, he knows you hear it, and he means it. His voice sounds normal yet foreign, changed but unchanged, kind. He sounds kind. Ran isn't sure if he likes it.

"And I love you, too," you return easily.

The true and enormous grin that blooms across your face is something he definitely likes though--loves even.

He smiles but quickly reins it back in, aware that stupid guard is eyeing their immobile vehicle with no one unloading.

"Come 'ere," he breathes.

You're on him in a flash, tender lips kissing his, and just for luck, he mumbles it a few more times. Practice. He'll need practice. You told him he would to lead a new life with you. One day it will seem as normal as swiping his credit card.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

He gets his favorite giggle in response. He really is a sucker for that silly noise. How he used to hate it...but oh, how he loves it now.

There's a bracing tap at his window.

"Hey! Let's get moving, you two. Other people need this space."

Yeah, whatever, Ran thinks. I don't care about anyone but her.

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[witchywithwhiskey]

an afternoon of pumpkin picking

pairing: sugar daddy!ransom drysdale x sugar baby!female reader

summary: you've convinced your sugar daddy to take you pumpkin picking—despite his reservations about spending any amount of time on a farm—and the perfectly autumnal date takes a turn when deeper feelings come to light.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, masturbation (f), guided masturbation, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, filming/recording/taking sexual photos, oral sex (m receiving), light bdsm, free use, pussy spanking, panty sniffing, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (nixie, baby), love confessions (a bit of idiots in love), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 11.6k

a/n: this fic is inspired by this exchange about various babes as sugar daddies taking their sugar babies on fall dates. i loved the idea of ransom being a little grumpy about going pumpkin picking, and then it morphed into this because i decided i wanted to explore their deeper emotional connection so uh it ended up being a lot longer than i expected. but it's also very cozy and smutty and fluffy and perfect for this time of year!!! anyway, i had fun writing this, so i hope y'all enjoy reading it!!

Can’t believe you talked me into this.

The text from your sugar daddy, Ransom Drysdale, arrived on a brisk September morning as you were getting ready for the perfectly autumnal date you’d convinced him to plan. As you read the message, you could practically hear the affectionate exasperation in his tone, which made you smile to yourself.

It had taken quite a bit of your powers of persuasion to get Ransom Drysdale—the heir to the Blood Like Wine Publishing dynasty and the most blue-blooded Boston man you’d ever met—to agree to take you pumpkin picking out in the “boonies,” as he called anywhere beyond the city limits that wasn’t his “ancestral estate” (also his words). 

But since you’d been seeing him for over a year, you knew all of Ransom’s weaknesses. And you’d used them to make a deal with your sugar daddy.

You’re going to have fun, I promise :) Don’t forget our deal.

You certainly hoped Ransom hadn’t forgotten about the arrangement you’d struck that ended up with him taking you pumpkin picking, especially since it was all you could think about that morning as you got ready and did your hair and makeup. Your thoughts kept straying to the deal you’d made, what you’d given him in exchange for the autumnal date of your dreams. 

Ransom Drysdale was a dealmaker by trade, overseeing all publication acquisitions for Blood Like Wine. So after all your normal methods of persuasion had failed to convince him to take you pumpkin picking, you’d offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse. It was one that you knew you both would enjoy, but Ransom especially since it appealed to his nature. 

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine as you stood inside the walk-in closet of your Beacon Hill townhouse apartment—the one Ransom paid for, of course. 

It had been a gift when you’d accepted his request to be exclusively his sugar baby. He was the only man in your life anymore, and he’d said he wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so he got you the apartment and set up an allowance to make up for the other relationships you’d had to end.

Truthfully, it had been an incredibly easy decision to accept Ransom’s request. He was easily the youngest and handsomest of any man you’d been a sugar baby to—and if you had the tiniest little crush on him, you’d been certain you’d be able to keep it locked down so you didn’t jeopardize your relationship. 

After all, Ransom had been clear when you first met: He wasn’t looking to fall in love.

Unfortunately for you, over the year that you’d been seeing him exclusively, your crush had blossomed into full-blown feelings. It was hard not to care for the grumpy, sarcastic publishing executive. He made you laugh, he made you feel safe, and the sex with him was better than any you’d ever had.

More than a year into seeing him and it got harder and harder to hide the fact that you cared deeply for him. You wanted to bundle yourself in one of his sweaters and stay with him forever—but you knew you couldn’t let on about your feelings. You didn’t want to risk him finding out and ending your relationship because he feared you were falling in love with him…

Of course, there were other ways your relationship could end.

Your fingers toyed with the sleeve of a sweater hanging in your closet as you thought about your sugar daddy. A pit in your stomach opened wide as you considered, yet again, it was probably inevitable that one day he would grow tired of you and move on to someone else. Even if you didn’t tell him how you felt, he could still leave you.

It was what happened with these kinds of relationships—the men left when they got bored or tired. Or when they wanted to settle down. Or when they fell in love with someone else.

Add to that, you were keenly aware that you were getting old enough that a man as young as Ransom—who was in his 40s—might want to soon trade you in for a newer, younger model. 

The thought broke your heart a little, and you had to push it away. You cut off the entire train of thought, knowing that it would lead nowhere good, especially when your sugar daddy was due to pick you up in just a short time. As you went back to getting ready, in your mind, you repeated your mantra to yourself: You would not love Ransom Drysdale.

It was a lie, of course, but you were hoping that if you said it to yourself enough times it would become true. It hadn’t worked yet, though. 

Thankfully, your phone vibrated, distracting you.

Wear that skirt I like. And one of the sweaters you stole from me.

A huff of an affronted laugh escaped you at the brisk tone of Ransom’s message. You hated it when he barked orders at you like you were one of the interns at his office. Sure, technically you were his employee, but he didn’t have to use that tone—especially before a date.

You assumed he was cranky because he still didn’t want to go pumpkin picking, but that didn’t mean you had to put up with it. Or respond at all. Even if you did follow his orders, since that was part of your deal for the day.

Tossing your phone on your bed without replying, you pulled out the skirt he was referring to from your closet. It was a short, flouncy thing that swished dangerously around your thighs, offering tantalizing teases of your ass to anyone who might be looking at your backside. 

Ransom loved it because it afforded him a sneak peek of what lingerie you were wearing. One of his favorite things to gift you as his sugar baby was lingerie. He loved seeing you in it, touching you in it, fucking you in it. And what he liked most was sneaking a peek of your lingerie from those glimpses beneath your flouncy skirt.

On that September morning, you selected a black satin matching set to wear beneath the skirt, then pulled a maroon sweater from the pile in your closet.

He may have been a spoiled, rich man, but Ransom was a gentleman, and if you were cold, he’d give you his sweater—which was how you’d amassed a small hoard of your sugar daddy’s sweaters. You never could bring yourself to give them back once they made their way into your closet. Nor could you bear to wash them. 

In your loneliest moments, you’d pull on one of Ransom’s sweaters and let the expensive scent of his cologne comfort you. He smelled like whiskey and something spicy—something that matched perfectly with the fall and winter. 

You’d never told anyone about wearing Ransom’s sweaters when you were alone in your Beacon Hill apartment, but your sugar daddy knew you’d collected many of them. 

Ransom didn’t seem to mind, though. Or, at least, he never asked for them back. But sometimes, like that day, he’d ask that you wear one for him. It always sent a special thrill through you to wear your sugar daddy’s sweaters, like it meant he was staking a claim on you that was deeper and more like a typical romantic relationship. 

A giddy, happy smile curled your lips as you got dressed and added jewelry before checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still done to your satisfaction. 

You were just pulling on some black mary jane shoes when your phone chimed with another text. 

Let me see, nixie. 

Your traitorous heart fluttered at the nickname. Most of the sugar daddies you’d had relationships with called you by much more common pet names—sweetheart, honey—if they used them at all. But leave it to Ransom to pull a pet name from obscure European folklore. 

You’d had to look it up after the first time he used it, and when you found out it was a kind of river mermaid who lured men to their deaths, you’d laughed to yourself. Ransom had essentially likened you to a siren, and at the time, you’d wondered if he believed you could lure him to his death. It seemed ridiculous, especially when you were the one in danger of getting their heart broken.

Sometimes, when he used that pet name, you wondered if Ransom liked you as much as you liked him. If that was why he’d chosen it, because he worried you’d hurt him somehow. But that was a dangerous thought and you reminded yourself it would only lead to heartbreak. 

You tried not to have a reaction to the nickname. You tried to stop your heart from fluttering and your lips from curving into a smile. But it was impossible.

So to distract yourself, you did as Ransom had asked in his message. You snapped a quick photo of your outfit—the short, flouncy skirt paired with his maroon sweater and your black mary janes. You’d chosen to forgo tights because September in Massachusetts could get warm, especially with the sun shining as brightly as it was outside your window.

You sent the photo and began gathering your things to wait for Ransom to arrive for your date, but his response came back quicker than you expected.

Pretty, but I want to see it in person. I’m outside.

Your heart gave another flutter at the compliment, then flipped entirely when he said he was outside. Bounding to your bedroom window that overlooked the cobblestone streets of Beacon Hill, you grinned when you saw Ransom’s silver 1972 BMW coupe parked outside your door. 

Ransom might not be as excited for your pumpkin picking date as you were, but he was early. That had to mean something, right? 

You didn’t let that thought flourish any further, pushing it aside as you grabbed your keys and phone and shoved them in the bag you’d picked to match your outfit. Then you were flouncing down the stairs of your townhouse to the front door and pushing through it, pausing only to lock it behind you.

When you turned to the street, you were struck with the sight of Ransom Drysdale leaning against his BMW, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand. Your heart raced and your belly swooped—it felt like your entire body was having a visceral reaction to seeing Ransom dressed in an autumnal outfit that suited him so well.

A golden brown wool coat hung off Ransom’s broad shoulders, slightly obscuring the worn cream-colored cable knit sweater that covered his expansive chest. A purple and gold scarf with some kind of intricate design hung casually around his neck, adding to the look that was completed by dark slacks, brown loafers and a pair of sunglasses with gold rims that matched the rings he wore on his hands.

Despite his sunglasses, you could feel Ransom’s eyes on you and you bit your lip against a giddy grin, worried that your schoolgirl crush on your sugar daddy would show plain as day on your face if you let it slip free. Instead, you gave him an exaggerated onceover before letting out a low whistle of appreciation as you stepped into the narrow sidewalk lining the cobblestone street.

“Quit gawking and c’mere, nixie,” Ransom growled, using his free hand to grab your waist and pull you into him. 

You landed against his broad, muscular chest with a light, “oomph,” and instantly wound your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the way he felt so steady and solid against you. 

“You love it when I check you out, don’t you, daddy?” you teased in a soft voice meant only for him. 

The street wasn’t busy, but it was so narrow that if any of your neighbors had their windows open to let in the crisp September air, they’d easily be able to overhear you. And you didn’t want anyone else hearing you call Ransom ‘daddy’—that was just for him.

“I do,” Ransom admitted in a rumbling voice, matching your low tone. “And I love looking at you in your pretty little outfit I picked out…” He trailed off, ducking down closer to you and nudging your nose to tilt your head back, ghosting his mouth over your lips teasingly when you canted your face to meet his. “But daddy needs a kiss, baby.”

The words were barely past his lips before you were surging up onto your tiptoes and kissing Ransom. He tasted like black coffee and cinnamon, and you couldn’t get enough of it. When his tongue slid across your lower lip seeking entrance, you were helpless to do anything but open for him, moaning softly as he plunged into your mouth.

The kiss had started out chaste enough for the sidewalk of Beacon Hill, but Ransom seemed to be as ravenous as you felt, hooking his arms around your waist and bending you backward with the intensity of his need to devour you. 

It had your head spinning with pleasure, but you still gave him as good as you got, kissing him back with just as much fervor, your leg rising of its own accord to hook around his thigh beneath his open coat.

Gradually, Ransom slowed the kiss until his mouth was decadently nibbling on your lower lip before licking the sting of his teeth away. Then, finally, he pulled away and you were able to drag in a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight as you lowered your leg back to the sidewalk. 

“Get in the car, nixie,” Ransom growled, though there was no anger in his tone, only a desirous heat that you recognized, since it was swirling warmly in the depths of your core. “Before I decide I’d rather take you back inside your apartment and fuck you in nothing but my sweater instead of taking you pumpkin picking.”

His free hand slid down your back and he groped the soft curve of your ass shamelessly over your skirt, right there on the street. Still, you couldn’t help but melt at his rough handling, a gasp escaping as his fingers dug ruthlessly into your flesh. 

For just a second, you debated whether you wanted Ransom to deliver on his threat, but decided against it. The prospect of seeing your sugar daddy going pumpkin picking was too good to pass up.

“Ok, ok, I’m getting in the car,” you huffed on a laugh, your voice breathy in a way you couldn’t help as you squirmed away from Ransom’s groping hand. Your sugar daddy chuckled, but let you go, then turned to open the door of his BMW for you.

He waited until you were settled on the soft leather seat, your seatbelt buckled across your lap, then leaned into the car and handed you the coffee he’d been holding. You took it with no small amount of surprise, having assumed it was his own coffee.

“For you, your favorite,” he murmured before brushing a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry for being short with you this morning.”

A stunned expression froze on your face, his words spinning around in your mind so loudly, you barely heard the thump of the car door closing. Your eyes flicked up to watch Ransom cross in front of the car, your heart racing like you’d just sprinted an entire marathon.

It was then that you knew, unequivocally, without any doubt, that you loved Ransom Drysdale. 

Your sugar daddy slid smoothly into the driver’s seat and pulled his door shut before glancing at you. You gave him a weak smile, trying to hid the fact that you felt like a bomb had just been dropped inside your heart, and his expression twisted into one of annoyance.

“Don’t tell me they fucked up your drink,” he fumed, shoving his keys in the ignition and starting his BMW. He threw an arm around the back of your seat, his chest close enough to your shoulder that you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he carefully backed up, then maneuvered onto the street. All the while, he was muttering, “It’s a fucking pumpkin spice latte, they must make thousands of them a day. How can they fuck it up?”

When he merged into traffic at the end of the street heading in the direction of the local coffee shop, Ransom finally pulled his arm away from the back of your seat. You grabbed his hand before he could put it back on the wheel, squeezing it to get his attention.

“The latte’s fine, Ran—it’s perfect,” you assured him, even though you hadn’t taken a sip yet. Some of the anger drained from his expression and he executed a u-turn to turn in the other direction of the coffee shop, but his jaw was still ticking with annoyance and you searched for an explanation that wasn’t the truth. When you couldn’t think of anything else, you blurted, “I was just surprised you remembered my favorite coffee.”

“Of course I remembered,” he said after a moment of silence. His voice was gruff, like he didn’t know what to do with his sweet gesture being addressed so directly, but his mood seemed to lighten, his annoyance forgotten. Slipping his hand from your fingers, he settled his palm firmly on your thigh, giving you a playful squeeze as he shot you a smirk. “Though I don’t think that sugary nonsense should really be called coffee,” he snarked, giving your leg another squeeze to let you know he was only teasing.

You huffed an exasperated laugh and settled your free hand on top of his, holding onto him while he drove skillfully through the busy streets of Boston, heading toward the city limits. 

Ransom’s joke washed away the remnants of whatever tension your revelation, and your need to hide it from him, had caused between the two of you. Of course, you still felt the knowledge that you loved him hovering at the edge of your mind, but it was easy to sink into Ransom’s comforting presence and, if not entirely forget about it, at least more easily pretend you didn’t know you were in love with your sugar daddy.

On the drive, you made conversation with Ransom, asking him about his work and his family. He’d spent time with them the previous weekend and hadn’t seen you as a result. But he skipped quickly over the family party he’d attended and instead focused on telling you about some of the books he’d acquired for Blood Like Wine. 

You didn’t like Ransom’s family, based on what little you knew about them. And you didn’t feel even a little bit bad about it because you were certain they’d never like you, especially considering how you’d met Ransom. But it still made you sad to think about him facing them alone. Your heart thumped with sympathy and you curled your fingers more possessively around his hand on your thigh.

Ransom shot you a lopsided smile and turned the conversation around on you, asking about what books you’d been reading, and how the rest of your hobbies were going. He didn’t need to ask about your work because he’d made sure you didn’t need a job other than keeping him company—and especially didn’t need any other sugar daddies. 

So you told him about what you were reading and all the other things you did to occupy your time while he listened and asked questions. He especially loved hearing your opinions on the Blood Like Wine books he’d acquired. 

A little over an hour outside the city, Ransom’s BMW pulled into a gravel driveway beside a large sign that read Johnson’s Family Farm. There were smaller signs lining the drive advertising the farm’s apple orchards, hayrides, farm stand, and, of course, the pumpkin patch. 

Beyond the windows of Ransom’s BMW, you could see the farm sprawling out toward the distant horizon, plenty of picturesque little red buildings and beautiful fields filled with various fruits and vegetables. But there was something off about the farm, and it took you a moment to realize what it was: The whole place was deserted. 

It was a little early in the day, just after lunch time, but you were still surprised by how empty the parking lot was. And you didn’t even see any workers, or cars that might belong to them. It was just Ransom’s BMW and the deserted farm.

“Where is everyone?” you asked, turning in your seat to Ransom. “Are you sure they’re open?” It was the weekend, they must’ve been open, but you couldn’t make sense of why no one was there.

Ransom snorted, giving you a devious smirk as he put the car in park and turned it off. 

“I bought out the farm for a couple hours, it’s just us and the pumpkins, nixie,” he explained, squeezing your thigh one last time before stepping out of the car and rounding the front to open your door for you. 

You stepped out onto the gravel in a bit of a daze, still shocked by his words. You knew Ransom was wealthy—he was a high-level executive at one of the most successful prestige publishers in the country, not to mention the money he inherited from his family—but him buying out an entire farm just for your date was one of the most extravagant things he’d ever done. Your mind reeled as you tried to fathom how much that would even cost.

Ransom curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. He’d taken off his sunglasses, so you were met with the sight of his sparkling blue eyes. Paired with his devastatingly handsome smirk, your knees instantly went weak and your mouth parted in a wordless plea for him to kiss you.

He dropped a quick peck to your lips that was over too soon and swept his thumb across your cheek in a soothing gesture, your surprise melting into happiness as you realized you got to have Ransom all to yourself on your date. 

“C’mon, nixie, did you really think I’d agree to go pumpkin picking—to go tromping through the dirt on a farm,” he scoffed, his tone warm even if it was a little derisive. “And deal with hordes of screaming children and their families?” 

Ransom raised an eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh as you rolled your eyes. You didn’t even need to answer, because of course Ransom wouldn’t want to deal with anyone else while he was enduring the absolute torture of going pumpkin picking. But then his next words distracted you from thinking about how spoiled he was.

“Besides, I haven’t forgotten our deal. I have plans for you, and we needed the farm all to ourselves for them,” he teased, his smirk turning impish as he ducked down and captured your lips in another quick kiss. 

Your heart was racing with excitement, your mind turning over his words and wondering what he could have planned for you while Ransom grabbed your hand and led you into the farm. You shook your head to clear it of all the naughty thoughts that had popped into your mind, and focused on your sugar daddy, who was following the signs toward the pumpkin patch with a grim acceptance in his expression.

The September sun was warm on your shoulders, but there was a cool breeze, the lingering chill of the morning clinging to the day and you curled around Ransom’s arm while you walked. You tried to distract your sugar daddy from the eventuality of leaving the nice dirt path to wade into the pumpkin patch by chattering about fond memories you had of going apple picking and exploring corn mazes with friends when you were younger. 

When you got to the area where you could pick your own pumpkins, Ransom paused at the edge, using your clasped hands to pull you to a stop alongside him. Your chatter cut off mid-sentence and you looked curiously to your sugar daddy, finding his brows lowered over his stormy blue eyes as he considered the haphazard spread of soft soil, scattered hay and orange pumpkins.

“I still don’t really see the point of this,” he muttered, giving the pumpkin patch a dubious look.

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking Ransom looked younger than his years in that moment—like a kid who was being introduced to something new and didn’t trust that they were going to like it. 

You curled into Ransom’s chest, your arms twining around his neck while his settled easily around your waist. You looked up at him and waited to speak until he dragged his gaze from the pumpkin patch behind you to meet your eyes.

“Normally, the point would be to take some pumpkins home and carve them,” you explained patiently. Ransom narrowed his eyes on you suspiciously, as if he believed you were going to try to convince him to do such an unfathomably pedestrian thing, and the corners of your mouth flickered as you suppressed an even wider smiler. “But something tells me even my powers of persuasion aren’t strong enough to get you to do that.”

Ransom only snorted, his eyes flicking disdainfully to the pumpkins over your shoulder then back at you. “Definitely not.” 

But there was a curiosity buried deep in his gaze, and you wondered if one day—if you were together long enough—he might be willing to try some pumpkin carving. 

Surprisingly, you could picture it. Ransom with his worn, threadbare sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grimacing as he yanked pumpkin guts from inside a big, orange gourd. It almost made you giggle to think about.

Instead, you shook your head to clear the image from your thoughts, not wanting to get your hopes up that Ransom would be a fixture in your life long enough that you could convince him to carve pumpkins with you. 

Although, maybe if you offered to blow him while he did… You shook your head again and met Ransom’s curious gaze, giving him a bright smile that was only a little bit fake.

“Then we can just pick out a couple pumpkins for my front steps,” you said sunnily, bouncing up onto your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Ransom’s cheek. “They’re pretty decorations whether we carve them or not.” 

You began to pull away, intent on starting your search for the perfect pumpkins, but Ransom’s arms tightened around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go yet.

“You’d be a much prettier decoration than any of these gourds, nixie,” he murmured, and you turned your face to him in surprise at the gruffness in his tone. There was some emotion laced through his voice that you couldn’t place, and before you could puzzle it out, Ransom’s mouth caught yours, sending your thoughts scattering as he kissed you deeply.

When you finally broke away for a breath, your body was buzzing with awareness of Ransom’s and a warmth that had nothing to do with the bright September sun had bloomed between your thighs. You had half a mind to drag Ransom back to the car and have him do something about what he’d started, but you were determined to go pumpkin picking. 

Pushing aside the distracting hum of desire filling your body, you pulled away from Ransom’s warmth and began carefully stepping through the pumpkin patch. The smell of earth and the distinct scent of pumpkins surrounded you, calming some of the buzzy heat Ransom had stirred up, and you were able to focus on your search for the perfect pumpkins.

Once Ransom got over the fact that he would have to walk through the dirt in his nice loafers—which took a few moments of complaining—he began picking his way through the pumpkins. He kept calling out to you when he’d found one that was particularly deformed or ugly in some way, trying to claim they had “character.” But you knew he was just being a pest to make you laugh and smile.

To his credit, he was making you laugh, and the smile on your face was so wide it hurt a little. 

Every time he held up a terrible pumpkin like it was a prize catch, you shook your head at him, but your laughter echoed across the fields of the farm. And you couldn’t help but notice that Ransom seemed to be having fun, too, his own smile staying fixed on his handsome face as you both made your way through the pumpkin patch.

“What about this one?” Ransom called, from a little ways away, having wandered off in a different direction. “Now this is a pumpkin.”

You stood up from where you’d been bent over, looking at some moderately sized pumpkins to find Ransom standing beside a massive orange thing. It was almost as high as Ransom’s waist, tipped on its side, but as you looked harder, something about it seemed off.

First, it was clearly meant to be part of a display set up by the farm, since it stood in front of an artfully arranged stack of hay bales that were topped with smaller pumpkins. The rest of the field stretched out behind the setup, and you suspected it had been constructed in an attempt to give visitors to the farm a photo op, where families or groups of friends could pose for the perfect autumnal pictures. 

But as you walked closer to Ransom, and smoothed your hands over the large pumpkin, you realized something else was off about the gourd.

“Ran,” you started dryly, cutting your eyes to him, finding him admiring the pumpkin. “This isn’t a real pumpkin—it’s fake, for the photo op,” you said, waving your hand at the whole display.

Ransom seemed confused for a moment, then looked at the bales of hay arranged behind it as if he was seeing them for the first time. Since you were closer, you could see a little sign that had the name of the farm tacked into the hay, and had to give it to Johnson’s Family Farm—they seemed to know what they were doing.

“Figures the first pumpkin I actually like is fake,” Ransom muttered, turning to you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he curled his big body around yours. 

You bit your lip against a laugh and stroked your fingers through his soft brown hair. “Don’t worry, Ran, I’m sure we’ll find something you like.” 

His thick arms squeezed you tight and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto one another. It was a sweet moment—until Ransom’s hands began to wander down your back, stroking down your spine to the swell of your ass. But he didn’t stop there. His hands slid further down and under your skirt, groping your thighs shamelessly and kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

“Remind me again about the deal we made, nixie,” Ransom rumbled, his tone thick with lust as he used his big hands to pull you closer, his bulge pressing into your stomach. 

Your mind was swimming with desire, your body arched into the bigger form of your sugar daddy, but you managed to remember the words of the agreement you’d made—the one that had finally convinced Ransom it would be worth it to take you pumpkin picking.

“I have to do everything you say,” you recited the terms of your deal, your voice breathless with excitement. “And you can do anything you want with me.”

Ransom made a rumbling sound deep in his chest, the vibrations teasing your nipples through your sweater and sheer lingerie. Your breasts felt heavy, aching to be touched, but you kept your arms around Ransom’s broad shoulders, waiting to see what he’d do. 

“I think it’s time for you to pay up, baby,” Ransom murmured, walking you backward until your ass collided with the big, fake pumpkin. “I wanna take some pictures of my pretty sugar baby on the biggest pumpkin in the patch.” 

The plastic was cold against your bare thighs and you sucked in a gasp, your body tensing in Ransom’s grip.

He seemed to understand your plight, though, because he uncurled himself from around your body—after giving your ass a lingering squeeze. 

Straightening, Ransom’s eyes caught yours, his blue gaze sparkling with mischief and a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth as he shrugged out of his wool coat. He swung it around behind you, laying it down on the pumpkin before his hands fell to your hips.

“Need a boost?” he asked, his lips curving into a deviously handsome smirk as his hands settled on your hips.

Truthfully, you didn’t need the help. The pumpkin was only a little higher than your ass, and you could have easily hopped up onto it. But arousal was slinking through your body, making you feel heavy and achy and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have Ransom’s hands on you for a little longer.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you said sweetly, giving Ransom your most charming smile and enjoying the way his eyes darkened at the honorific. 

Ransom pressed close to you, his expensive cologne filling your senses as he pinned you against the pumpkin under the guise of helping you. But you could feel the hard, thick length in his slacks digging into your soft belly and you knew he was enjoying the excuse to hold you just as much as you were. 

Slowly, he eased you up onto the pumpkin, the wool of his coat scratchy against the back of your bare thighs, but much warmer and softer than the cold plastic of the decoration. 

When he settled you right where he wanted you, it took all your self-control not to spread your legs for Ransom. You bit your lip against a sultry smile and kept your legs closed, trying to look nice for the photos he was going to take.

Still, you couldn’t help but murmur a breathy, “Thank you, daddy,” that had your blood running even hotter through your veins. 

Ransom seemed just as affected as you, but he managed to hold himself together, dropping a quick kiss to your lips before rumbling, “Good girl, nixie.” 

Then he was stepping away, taking his warmth and delicious scent with him as he retreated a few paces and pulled out his phone. You arranged yourself in a pretty pose on the pumpkin, smiling for Ransom’s camera, and adjusting your legs or arms or the tilt of your head as he asked. 

You’d been a little worried that giving Ransom free reign to order you around would lead to him barking commands at you like you were a dog. But he’d taken your words about not liking being talked to like that to heart—no doubt helped by the reminder of his text going unanswered that morning—and he kept his voice warm and light as he guided you through the poses he wanted for the photos he was taking.

It was more fun than you expected. You’d never done any kind of photoshoot, and you found yourself enjoying Ransom’s gentle commands helping you pose for him. He took so many photos of you perched on that fake pumpkin, you began to wonder what he planned to do with them. 

But then his directions took a new turn, and you couldn’t help the smirk that curved your lips.

“Now spread your legs,” Ransom urged, bending down so he was crouched in the field, being careful not to let his pants touch the dirt. “Put your feet up—yeah, just like that.” Ransom’s eyes sparkled in the bright September sunshine as he watched you shift into the pose he wanted, his mouth pulled wide in a wolfish grin. “Let daddy see what’s under that pretty skirt of yours.”

Leaning back on your hands, you lifted your knees and spread them wide, balancing precariously on top of the big, fake pumpkin. Your skirt fell around your hips, baring your black silk panties for Ransom’s camera. Even a few paces away, you could hear his inhale of breath when he got his first glimpse of the thin slip of fabric barely covering your glistening slit. 

Excited thrills zipped through your body, more wetness gathering between your thighs as you watched Ransom’s blue eyes darken. Your pussy was so close to being on full display in broad daylight, and even though you knew the farm was deserted, the possibility of somehow being caught still made the tension in you crackle deliciously. 

But that was the fun of following Ransom’s orders—you’d known from the moment you offered it up for the deal that he would have you doing something naughty. You just hoped, as your core ached to be filled, that your sugar daddy would end the teasing soon and fuck you over the pumpkin he had you sitting on.

“Rub your pussy, baby,” Ransom rumbled, his voice pitching lower. “Let me see you make a mess of your pretty panties—all for me.”

His tone was drenched in a desire that made you even wetter, your body responding to his voice alone. You were so gone for him, you didn’t even care that no other man had ever made you wet just from his voice. You just wanted him to keep talking—keep ordering you to do more filthy things. 

Putting all your weight on one hand, you slipped the other between your thighs, using two fingers to rub your clit through your black silk panties. You suspected they were expensive, just like all the lingerie Ransom had gifted you, but you didn’t think about how much they cost. You only stared into Ransom’s camera and let your eyes go heavy-lidded, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as pleasure pulsed through your body.

“Good girl, nixie,” Ransom purred, shifting closer but staying down on his haunches. Soft clicks of a camera shudder came from his phone as he took photo after photo, capturing the way your fingers dipped down to your slit and pushed your panties ever so slightly into your dripping hole. “Fuck—yeah, just like that, rub that pretty pussy like a good little slut for daddy.”

A whimper slipped from your lips and a shudder wracked your whole body at the pleasure that suffused your entire being. Your fingers teased your wet slit while Ransom watched, his phone camera trained on you while he took photos of your lewd actions. It was headier than you would’ve expected, your thoughts scattering as your hips rocked gently, pressing your cunt against your fingers instinctively.

“Daddy, ‘m so empty,” you wailed softly, pushing your fingers into your pussy through your panties, whining desperately when they couldn’t go deep enough. The black satin was soaked in your juices, feeling good as it slipped against your wet lower lips, but you hated it in that moment because it was the only thing stopping you from being filled. “P-please, daddy!”

One of Ransom’s hands dropped from his phone to palm his dick through his pants, and you whimpered louder with a wordless plea. You opened your eyes wider and pouted your lips, imploring him to put you out of your misery—either by giving you another order, or by sinking his fat cock into your aching pussy.

Ransom’s features darkened with desire, his handsome face twisting into an expression that was almost a scowl as he rose from his crouch to tower over where you were perched. Your own expression lightened and turned hopeful, sure he was going to tuck his phone away and fill you up, but instead, he chuckled darkly. 

Skimming his free hand down your inner thigh, he groped you briefly, your skin tingling everywhere he touched. But then he ignored your pussy entirely and instead tugged on the hem of your sweater.

“Pull up your shirt, nixie, show me your slutty body,” Ransom rasped, his voice hoarse with his own need while he palmed his dick again, keeping his phone camera trained on you.

You whined and squirmed pathetically at the quick tease of his touch, but followed his order all the same. You tugged the hem of your sweater up, catching it between your teeth to keep it from falling down again before you went back to rubbing your pussy. 

You knew how you must’ve looked—your legs spread wide, your shirt pulled up to show off both parts of your black silk matching set and your hand pressed between your thighs, rubbing your pussy shamelessly. You must’ve looked like a perfect little whore for Ransom, and by the way his eyes sparkled and his mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, he loved it.

“Good girl, nixie,” he murmured, soft clicks of the camera shutter coming from his phone as he took even more photos while he stood over you. “You’re such a good little slut for me, baby, such a perfectly obedient girl.” His eyes flicked from his phone screen to your eyes. “Doesn’t it feel good to do everything daddy tells you?” 

With the soft cotton of your sweater in your mouth, you couldn’t speak, so you nodded, holding Ransom’s gaze as you did so. You wanted him to see it was the truth—it did feel good to do what he told you. Because you trusted him. You knew he’d never tell you to do anything that might hurt you. 

Something shifted in Ransom’s eyes as he read your expression—something that looked a lot like surprise melting into a profound awareness that seemed to frighten him. As you watched, his eyes hardened just a little bit, the hand holding his phone dropping out of the way as he stared at you intensely.

“Are you sure you can handle it, sugar baby, doing everything I tell you?” he asked, a harshness in his tone that spoke to an underlying animosity you knew wasn’t truly directed at you. 

You realized all of a sudden that you’d tipped your hand. You’d shown Ransom you trusted him, and, in the process, shown him that your feelings for him were deeper than they should be between a sugar baby their sugar daddy. His question was a challenge, and an offering of an escape at the same time. 

But, for all that you’d avoided showing Ransom how you truly felt about him, you simply couldn’t run away from him. If you’d been able to do that, you would’ve parted ways with your sugar daddy already. 

So you held Ransom’s glinting blue gaze and nodded resolutely. His expression hardened further. 

“Spank your pussy,” Ransom growled, his voice sounding as rough as the gravel in the farm’s parking lot. “Show me what a dirty little slut you are and slap your cunt as hard as you can.” 

Your whole body quivered with anticipation as you drew back your hand from your wet, puffy pussy. Your silk panties were soaking wet, and you knew the flimsy fabric wouldn’t protect your sensitive slit from the sting of the spank, but Ransom gave you an order, and you intended to follow it—to show him how much you trusted him, and cared for him.

Using the flat of your fingers, you slapped your cunt as Ransom instructed, as hard as you could manage. Electrifying pain streaked through your body, making you cry out and arch violently on the pumpkin you were perched on, your other hand gripping tightly to Ransom’s wool coat to keep you balanced. A deep, blazing pleasure nipped at the sensation’s heels and your cry devolved quickly into a debauched moan that was muffled by the sweater in your mouth. 

It took you a moment to force your gaze back to Ransom, his eyes swirling with so many emotions, you didn’t have a hope of discerning them. But he held his phone up again, no doubt framing you within the screen and said in a gruff voice, “Again.”

That time, since you were expecting it, it was easier to brace for the sting of pain and the burning pleasure that swept the smarting tingle away. But your body still responded, your spine curving and your legs shaking wildly, your lips falling open in another muted moan as your teeth clung to the sweater so it didn’t slip free from your mouth. 

Ransom’s camera captured the whole thing—you knew because he watched the screen instead of you, his mouth twisting into a depraved smirk.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Ransom rumbled, some of the warmth you typically heard in your sugar daddy’s voice seeping back into his words. He must’ve heard it, too, because his next words were harsher. “Does it feel good to spank your pussy like the dirty little slut she is?

“Uh huh,” you mumbled around the sweater in your mouth. You tried to tell him it felt good, but the words came out entirely garbled, though Ransom seemed to understand. 

“Are you gonna come from slapping your naughty cunt?” he asked, his eyes darkening with hungry intent as he watched your face, waiting for your response.

Your pussy pulsed at his filthy question, and you thought maybe it was possible to come from spanking your puffy slit, especially if your fingers caught your clit with each slap. But truthfully, you didn’t know—you’d never tried. So you answered Ransom honestly, muttering, “Ionno,” around the sweater in your mouth.

Ransom huffed an impatient sound and reached for you to tug the sweater free from your teeth, his actions gentle even despite his obvious annoyance. “Say that again.”

“I-I don’t know,” you whispered. “I can try.”

The expression on Ransom’s face shifted again, but it became even more unreadable. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he was searching for something, though you didn’t know what. 

“You want to try?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You acted instinctively, pushing yourself up so you were no longer balancing on your hand and reaching past Ransom’s phone to grab his sweater to pull him down for a kiss. Your lips moved sweetly against his for a moment, before you pulled back and stared deeply into his eyes. 

“I want to do everything you tell me to do,” you said, reciting the words of the deal you’d struck with Ransom, but changing them just a little, to tell him again that you wanted him, you trusted him. “I want you to do anything you want with me.” 

A look of something almost like fury flitted across Ransom’s face, and then he was surging forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, as if he meant to brand you with his mouth. You moaned into him, which only seemed to make him kiss you harder, his tongue pushing past your lips to sweep into you as if he owned you. 

In that moment, if he’d asked, you would have told him he did.

Just as suddenly as he’d kissed you, Ransom pulled away and he shoved his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks. Then, before you’d even recovered from his kiss, he grabbed your hips and spun you to the side, guiding your shoulders down so you were laying draped sideways across the big pumpkin. 

“Panties off,” he growled, his voice a low rumbling contrast to the sharp clinking of his belt buckle as he undid his pants. “Give ‘em to me.” 

You were quick to follow his orders, hooking your fingers in the black silk panties and shoving them down your legs, pulling them off and then handing them to Ransom. You watched your sugar daddy hold them up to his face and take a deep breath, inhaling your scent as his other hand dove into his boxer briefs. 

Because your head was hanging over the side of the fake pumpkin beneath your back, you had a front row seat to Ransom’s big hand stroking his hard length, your mouth watering with the desire to taste him on your tongue. A whine slipped from your lips and you squirmed, getting Ransom’s attention.

He chuckled darkly, tucking your panties into the pocket of his slacks that didn’t hold his phone and then shoved them and his boxer briefs down. His thick, fat cock fell on your face, making you flinch in surprise at the slight slap of it against your skin. But in the next breath, you were tilting your face up and kissing him affectionately, murmuring in contentment when his musky taste hit your tongue. 

“Such a perfect little slut, baby,” Ransom rasped, his praise drenched in that warm tone that had your heart beating happily in your chest. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and slapped it gently on your smiling lips. “Open your mouth and spread your legs.” 

Immediately, you did as Ransom said, parting your thighs and opening your mouth wide, then waiting for what came next. You weren’t surprised when Ransom didn’t waste any time before pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.  

He let out a low, filthy groan as he thrust deep in your mouth, pressing into your throat until you could feel him bulging in the front of your neck. He held there, his balls nestled against your nose while you swallowed around him, trying to get used to the intrusion while he groaned obscenely at how good you felt. 

“Fuck yeah, baby, take daddy’s cock in your pretty little throat,” he rumbled, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat and pressing down lightly, grunting when he felt himself twitching inside you. “You’re such a perfect little slut, ’s like you were made for me—all for me.” 

You moaned around Ransom’s cock, hoping he took the sound for the agreement it was as you lay beneath him, your hips squirming and your pussy fluttering in the cool September air. Your wiggling seemed to get Ransom’s attention and he leaned over you, his big hand sliding between your thighs to rub your already messy pussy.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmured, his voice sounding like sunshine with the affection clear in his tone. “You still wanna see if you can come from getting your pussy spanked?” he asked, a smirk in his words. 

You nodded as best you could, your hips squirming and bucking, practically begging for him without using a single word—not that you could utter any with his cock buried so deeply in your throat. 

His fingers slid teasingly against your clit and you bucked harder, grinding against him as best you could. 

Your antics made Ransom laugh quietly as he muttered, “Alright, baby,” in a placating voice. 

That was the only warning you got—that and his hand disappearing from your pussy. Ransom’s big hand came down on your pussy sharply, the flat of his fingers spanking your pussy much harder than you. Still, you could feel he was holding back from using all his strength, only giving it to you as hard as he knew you could take.

And take it you did. 

A muffled scream clawed its way up your throat and slipped past your lips to be muffled against Ransom’s balls as white-hot pain flooded your body, followed closely by the all-consuming burn of pleasure. A tremor shook your limbs and you choked on Ransom’s cock, your throat squeezing him tight enough to wring a grunt from him. 

“Fuck—did that feel good, baby?” he rumbled, his fingers dipping into your hole and rubbing your juices all over your pussy, paying special attention to your clit. “Do you like it when daddy spanks your slutty pussy? Because you’re squeezing my cock like you want me to do it again.” 

His voice was drenched in warmth and humor and you whined in response as you planted your feet on the curve of the fake pumpkin and bucked your hips up against his hand, pleasure coiling tight in your core. You knew it was only a matter of a few more smacks from Ransom’s hand before that coil was snapping and you were going to come from him spanking your pussy. 

“That sounds like a yes, but I wanna feel you nod, baby,” Ransom murmured, his other hand petting your cheek softly. 

You couldn’t see him from the angle you were at, but you could hear the smile in his tone and you melted a little, your legs falling open wider as you nodded for him. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers stroking over the bulge in your throat while his others rubbled your clit, making your tight channel squeeze his cock tighter. “And what do you do if it’s too much? Show daddy,” he urged as his fingers trailed lower, until they dipped into your black satin bra and swirled around your nipples until they were stiff peaks. 

Meanwhile, you reached back and patted the outside of Ransom’s thigh three times, the sign you’d established with him early on in your relationship for when you needed a break but didn’t have the capacity to use words. 

“Good, you’re such a good girl,” he purred. His hand kept sliding lower down your body until he reached your thighs. He grabbed your soft flesh and pushed your legs open even wider. “Now, let’s see if we can make your pretty pussy come just from being spanked while I fuck your slutty mouth.” 

You barely had a chance to moan your agreement before Ransom’s hand came down on your cunt again, the sharp, slick sound of his fingers slapping your wet flesh meeting your ears before the stinging pain and scorching pleasure sent your thoughts skittering away. 

He rubbed your clit roughly and moved his hips, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, grunting and groaning at the feel of your moans vibrating through him and your throat squeezing him every time he slapped your pussy. 

Ransom fell into a rhythm, spanking your pussy as hard as he thought you could handle, his fingers catching your clit every time, and fucking your throat while you lay draped over the big, fake pumpkin in that deserted pumpkin patch. 

You were at the mercy of Ransom, and he seemed to know it just as much as you did—and he didn’t take it for granted. His hands were purposeful with every touch, every spank, his hips never pushing too hard against your head as he fucked your mouth. It was filthy and dirty and yet you could feel the depth of his caring in everything he did to you.

It wasn’t long before you were pushed to the precipice of your release, your body trembling uncontrollably, the coil in your core wound so tight, you knew it would snap any second. 

Ransom must’ve felt it too, because he started up a constant refrain of, “Good girl, baby, come for me—come for daddy, baby. You’re doing so good, wanna watch your pretty pussy come, baby, c’mon, lemme see.” His words were so sweet and warm and wicked, you were unable to do anything but follow his gentle command. 

On the next slap to your cunt, the coil of pleasure in your belly snapped, and your entire body went tight with white-hot tension before it burst free into decimating waves of pleasure. Ransom’s cock muffled your scream as you came, your hips bucking and pussy convulsing beneath his warm palm as you rubbed your soaking wet slit against him. 

You were so consumed by your release, you didn’t notice the way Ransom had frozen, and you barely felt him pulling his cock free from your mouth. You only knew that suddenly you were able to pull in deep breaths and smell the crisp scent of the pumpkin patch. 

Your head spun when Ransom gently pushed you to sit up and hauled you off the pumpkin, your feet hitting the soft soil of the field and your knees nearly buckling as your body still shivered from the waves of pleasure rolling through you. 

Ransom sat heavily on his wool coat still draped haphazardly over the top of the pumpkin, his hands greedily grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap. Your knees bracketed his thighs while his hands grabbed your ass and guided you to sit up. Then you felt the tip of his cock slide against your still fluttering hole and you moaned, your head dropping back like you didn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore.

“Can’t fucking believe you came from getting your pussy spanked, baby,” Ransom was mumbling, his big hands changing the angle of your hips until the head of his cock was pressed to your entrance. “Gotta feel it, gotta…” He cut off on a grunt when he pushed into your slick, pulsing pussy, his hands shifting to your hips so he could pull you down onto his hard, throbbing length.

Your hands found Ransom’s biceps and you held onto him, your fingers tangling in the thick weave of his cable knit sweater as you quickly sank down on his cock. He was so thick and long, it stung a little to impale yourself so fast without any kind of preparation, but you didn’t care. You were too greedy for his cock to take your time, a deep, primal instinct driving you to take him as fast as you could while your mind was still reeling from your first release. 

“Oh fu-uck,” Ransom groaned brokenly, his head falling against your chest. You could feel his face pressing into your sternum, his heavy exhale ghosting between the swells of your breasts. It was against your bare skin, your heart racing just beneath the surface, that Ransom confessed, “I love you, nixie.” 

At his words, you went deathly still. For an unending moment, your mind reeled and you tried to be certain you’d heard Ransom correctly. You were sure you couldn’t have.

It didn’t seem like he realized what he’d said until he felt you stiffen in his lap. Then, Ransom sat up slowly, his gaze sharp as it raked over your face, trying to gauge your reaction. 

Licking your lips to bide you time to find your voice, you forced yourself to ask the question your heart needed an answer to. 

“Do you mean it?”

Ransom’s expression tightened, his eyes going even more wary, but he nodded—a quick, dip of his chin—and you sucked in a breath.

A tingling warmth started at the top of your head and cascaded through your body, filling you with a bright, fizzling feeling. It took a moment for you to recognize it was happiness. But not just happiness—it was pure, unfiltered joy. 

Your sugar daddy loved you. Ransom Drysdale loved you. 

His expression was growing more and more distant with every second that passed without you responding and you couldn’t have that. 

Squealing in delight, you launched yourself at him—not that it was such a far distance, considering you were in his lap—and he let out a soft, “oof,” when you collided with his chest, your arms winding around his neck and squeezing him tight.

“I love you, too, Ran,” you confessed on an exhale. It felt so good to get the words off your chest, that you repeated them. “I love you.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ransom said on a sigh of relief as he gathered you tighter against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back while the other braced against your spine so his hand could cup the back of your neck. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, nixie.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t love you back?” you asked softly before pressing a kiss to Ransom’s soft cheek because you couldn’t help yourself. The scent of his cologne filled your senses and you smiled against his jaw, kissing him again and again, like you’d never get enough of it. 

“Wasn’t sure,” he admitted gruffly. 

You giggled at the sheepishness in his tone, pulling back until you could see his face. He was blushing a little, a tiny bit of pink tinging his cheeks and making him look adorable. You couldn’t help yourself from cupping his handsome face in your hands and leaning forward to brush a sweet kiss to his mouth. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmured, in between teasing kisses. “I love you when you’re grumbling about going pumpkin picking, and I love you when you’re spanking my pussy, and I love you when you’re bringing me my favorite coffee because you remembered what I liked.” 

You kept kissing him until Ransom was chuckling, his hand squeezing the back of your neck in an affectionate gesture. He reeled you in for a deeper kiss, cutting off your list of all the times you’d loved him. But you and Ransom were smiling too much to kiss properly, your teeth knocking against each other and making you both laugh even more. 

Your joyful laughter soon devolved into soft moans and grunts when Ransom rocked his hips, shifting his cock even deeper inside you. Your fingers threaded through his soft brown hair and you clung to him while you rolled your hips, grinding down on his stiff length until you were breathless with renewed desire.

“Fuck, nixie—nixie, ‘m not gonna last much longer,” Ransom groaned, his arms tightening around your back and holding you pinned against his chest while he fucked up into you. “Your pussy’s too perfect—too fucking warm and tight and good for me.” 

“Come inside me, Ran,” you whispered heatedly, feeling his cock twitch at your suggestion. You moaned softly in his ear. Your clit was grinding against the base of Ransom’s cock, and it wouldn’t be long before you came for a second time. “Please, daddy, fill me up—wanna feel your come leaking from my pussy while we’re picking pumpkins, daddy, please,” you begged in a pathetic whine.

“I love you—fuck, I love you so fucking much, nixie,” Ransom growled, pressing his face to your cheek and nudging you to the side until his mouth found yours. He kissed you so long and so deeply, it made your head spin, and he fucked you all the while, pounding into your cunt hard enough that the pleasure he gave you was edged with just enough delicious pain that you were falling off the edge and coming in no time.

Ransom swallowed your screams of pleasure as you came, your pussy clenching his cock hard enough that he followed right after, grunting into your mouth so that it was your turn to muffle his sounds with your lips. 

Coming at the same time was heady and all-consuming and you were so happy you felt like you could float away if it wasn’t for Ransom’s arms holding you so tightly to his chest. And you were glad for it, because you didn’t want to float away unless he came with you.

The two of you gradually eased down from your highs together, still kissing, still murmuring your love for one another as if you could pass the words between your lips as easily as you exchanged breaths.

Finally, your rocking bodies gently stilled and your racing hearts returned to steady, normal drumbeats. The September sun was bright, keeping you warm from the chill in the air as you snuggled into your sugar daddy—the man that you loved, and who loved you in return.

Your head was still spinning and trying to process everything you’d both admitted while laying against Ransom’s chest, your fingers playing idly with a loose thread in his sweater, when he finally broke the comfortable silence that had fallen.

“If we carve up some of these pumpkins, do I really have to clean out all the guts with my bare hands?”

His question, and the almost whining tone in his voice, had you choking on a surprised laugh. You leaned back, looking into Ransom’s face to see if he was joking, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was giving the pumpkin patch another dubious look, making you laugh again as you shook your head at him.

“No, you could wear gloves, and there’s usually a scoop that comes in the pumpkin carving kits at the store,” you explained to him, your tone filled with humor even as you kept it even and patient. “You don’t have to touch the pumpkin guts if you don’t want to.”

Your fingers stroked through the hair at the nape of his neck and he seemed to relax, though whether it was from your assurance or your touch, you couldn’t tell. You suspected it was both.

After a moment, Ransom seemed to reach some sort of decision because he heaved a deep sigh and met your gaze. His blue eyes were shimmering in the bright afternoon sunlight, and the affection in his gaze warmed you despite the chill in the air. 

“Alright, let’s find some pumpkins worth carving,” he said, though his grim tone made it sound like he was suggesting you both walk into battle. 

A smile spread across your face and you giggled happily. “You mean it?”

“Of course, nixie,” Ransom rumbled, leaning in and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “There’s very little I wouldn’t do to make you happy—I thought that was clear when I agreed to an afternoon of pumpkin picking.” 

You laughed softly, ghosting your lips over his in a teasing gesture as your heart fluttered in your chest, happiness swooping through your belly. But still, his words didn’t exactly match up to your memory of events, especially given everything you’d done to get him to agree to the date—including the deal you’d made.

“Silly me, and here I thought it was because of the deal we made,” you murmured. 

“Mm, nope,” Ransom said, popping the ‘p’ in nope. “Woulda taken you pumpkin picking even without the deal—just liked watching you convince me.” He brushed feather-light kisses along your jaw, making you hum happily at the soft press of his lips after you snorted at his comment. “But now that you mention it, our arrangement extends to the pumpkin carving portion of this date, yeah?” 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, having a hard time following the conversation when he sucked gently on the spot just beneath your ear that had your head falling to the side to give him better access. You shook your head lightly and found the words to form a proper response. “Sure, it lasts as long as the date does.”

You felt Ransom’s mouth curve as he smirked against the side of your neck. “Good,” he purred, kissing down your throat until he got to the line of your sweater. “Gonna make you suck my cock while I clean out our pumpkins.”

Buzzy excitement and warm desie flooded through you at his words and it was your turn to smile. You remembered that you’d considered offering to blow him to get him to carve pumpkins just that morning, so you obviously had nothing against his suggestion. You were eager for it to become a reality.

“Whatever you say, daddy,” you murmured in your sweetest voice. 

Ransom huffed an amused laugh before his mouth found yours again. 

The two of you kissed for a little while longer, until your knees and hips started to protest sitting in the same position on that big, fake pumpkin for so long. Ransom helped you down from his lap and towed you back toward the farm stand, so you could clean up in the nice employee bathroom—though he refused to give you your panties back.

You spent the rest of the early afternoon picking out pumpkins with Ransom, then he carried them back to his BMW and put them in the trunk. While he drove you both back to the city, he gave you his phone and told you to pick out your favorite of the photos he’d taken of you. 

You asked him if he only wanted you to pick from the lewd photos, and he told you to also pick one of the pictures he’d taken of you with your clothes covering you. When you asked him what it was for, he told you he wanted to frame it and put it on his desk in his office. Your heart fluttered when he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, admitting he missed you while he was at work.

If you hadn’t already known you were in love with him, you would’ve known then, your heart squeezing in happiness while your fingers tightened around his. Since you didn’t have to hold back your emotions anymore, you told him how much you loved him, and he responded by repeating the words and kissing your hand again.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at your townhouse apartment in Beacon Hill, cleaning out and carving the pumpkins you’d picked before putting candles in them and setting them on the steps outside your front door. Before the date was over, you even got Ransom Drysdale—your sugar daddy and the man that you loved—to admit he had fun. 

Of course, you had to promise you’d never tell anyone. But you assured him you could keep it secret, so long as he loved you. He grinned, and promised you he always would, then he sealed the deal with a kiss. 

And that was how an afternoon of pumpkin picking turned into a beautiful life together.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡♡♡

[lanabuckybarnes]

| Handprints |

18+ Minors DNI

✧Pairing✧ Hugh Ransom Drysdale x Fiancé Reader (F)

✧Warnings✧ Soft Rannie, Jealousy, Some lil bitch flirting with what’s yours, Insecurities, Wow Ransom knows comfort??, Drinking, Crying, Assault (deserved), Unprotected PinV, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare King — This is pretty tame for me but if I’ve missed any warnings please don’t be afraid to let me know

✧Word Count✧ 1.4K

✧Author Note✧ Everyone say frick you to this man because I ain’t been able to get things done thanks to his stupidly handsome face and my brain hyperfixating on it. Fr tho I have WIPs, ideas and everything inbetween all left to rot because this son of a bitch is plaguing my mind. He’s so hot tho….

Also big thx to my homegirlies @samodivaa @delicatebarness for reading my filth and coming up with the title 🫶

You didn’t want to go out with Ransom tonight. You had your evening all planned out; sex in the shower, snuggling in bed, sex there too — the whole shebang. But of course, Ransom found himself invited to a dinner party with some old friends that he was excited to introduce you to, so your evening was cut short to merely sharing the shower with him and fleeting kisses between tellings of his long day — he didn’t even have time to make you cum.

The night was enjoyable; most of your fiancé's friends were just like him so you could deal with them. Until she arrived, her curves wrapped in a beautiful floor-length golden gown, her incredibly blonde locks curled to perfection and her eyes predatory.

“Oh my god Rannie!!” She squealed at the sight of your incredibly handsome man, outstretching her perfect little arms and pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Hey Charlotte” Ransom smiled wide, perfect pearly white teeth directed at the stunning lady “This is my fiancé” he said, reaching a large ringed hand out to envelop yours.

Charlotte turned, that cute little lady act dropping to a sneer when she turned her attention to you. Jealously oozed out of her, jealously and bewilderment. Her scrutinising glare made you feel ugly and small.

“Hey,” she forced, spitting your name back at you. Her hand squeezed Ransom’s bicep “Wow Ran you’ve gotten big…” her eyes flickered to him before returning to you “Did you see him in high school, he was so scrawny, skinny little arms and a big bobblehead. Bet you get a lot of girls' attention now hm?”

God you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“Maybe but I’ve only got my eyes on one” Your betrothed looked upon you with sparkling blue orbs, squeezing your hand tight. For a moment the party faded leaving you both staring into each other's adoring eyes until Charcuterie cut it short with a fake ‘awww’.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it then,” she says, giving Ransom a bright, man-killing smile and you a much duller, green eyed glare.

“Well that went well.”

“Huh?” Ransom turns, pulling you close by your waist and laying a soft kiss on your forehead.

“She likes you,”

“Yuh huh?”

“And she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you” he guffawed, his eyes scrunching up until the blue was barely visible.

“She does, she’s jealous” you argued, pushing him away slightly.

“I think you’re projecting pretty girl” he joked, quickly reining in his laugh when he noticed how upset you looked. Ransom put on a more serious look, hooking a finger under your chin with his free hand “Baby, you’re the only person I want. I only love you” You knew that. There was just something in that girl's gorgeous eyes that made your whole mind thrum with insecurity.

“I know” You pouted and he kissed you with a coo.

“Of course you do, look at the size of that rock on your finger” For effect he clasped your left hand, shoving the massive crystal into your eyeline.

The rest of the night you tried to let the situation with Charlotte go. You stuck around your fiancé most of the evening, stealing his warmth while listening to his old college football teammate drum on and on about how good of a quarterback Ransom once was.

“I remember one game he got rushed to hospital trying to challenge this mountain of a man. He was on his ass and there was blood pouring out of his head.”

“That must’ve been why he thought it was a good idea to settle for someone like her, y’know with the head injury.” A loud laugh came from behind your small huddle, you knew who it was before you even turned.

“That was out of order Charlotte” a girl in your group chastised, glaring at the now very drunk woman.

“Oh I don’t care, you lot sugarcoat everything. Ransom you could do so much better than…that” Her ringed hand failed in your direction, and a growl settled on her lips at the mere sight of you. It was enough to push you over the edge.

Shoving Ransom’s arm off your shoulders you darted away, heading straight for the car you came here in. You had to get out of the crowd, you were thoroughly embarrassed and angry at the whole situation, fat tears falling down your face by the time you swung the passenger door open.

You don’t know how long it took Ransom to settle in the seat beside you, not too long anyway. Instantly his arms were around you, a hand cradling your head into his neck while the other rubbed up and down your spine.

“I'm so sorry baby, I’m so fucking sorry” His words were thick with remorse, his fingers tightening around you “We shouldn’t have come here.”

He let you cry until you ran out of tears, his arms wrapped around you tightly until you pulled away, sighing at the wet patch on his tan jacket.

“I’m sorry” you whispered in a low voice, rubbing a sleeve over his wet shoulder in a feeble attempt to dry it off.

“Don’t apologise, pretty girl, that's what I’m here for. For letting you cry on me…and for slapping whoever disrespects what’s mine.”

“What?” You gawked, red eyes wide at his words.

“I smacked the shit outta her, she’ll think twice about saying shit like that again.” He looked so nonchalant about the whole thing, a pout of sheer unconcern pulling on his lips.

You tried to look appalled at your man’s actions, letting your jaw hang low in astonishment, but it quickly dissolved, a smile breaking out and a shocked laugh bubbling forth.

“Oh my god Hugh Drysdale!!” You smacked his arm softly, giggling freely at just the thought of that blonde’s face with Ransom’s handprint on the side of it. “We gotta get out of here before she calls the cops.”

“Agreed.” He hummed, starting the engine and setting off down the road, singing away to your shared playlist.

“Fuck baby, fucking hell…”

There was a distinct schlick schlick sound coming from the ajar door of the massive house leaving a tiny part of your brain silently thankful for its size. The rest of you doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Ransom laid out on his back beneath you, face and chest flushed and his hair awry thanks to your wandering hands. His hands gripped at your hips, helping you bounce on his thick length, chasing your third orgasm of the night. Somewhere along the journey home your insecurities and jealousy fizzled into raw desire, your hands groping at Ransom while he drove. You barely made it through the front door before you jumped his bones, shoving him into the wall and swallowing his length with ease only experience would get you. Charlotte could never.

“Taking me like such a good girl—fuckkkk—yes baby squeeze my dick” Not only was he a mess physically, his brain had short-circuited after you straddled his body, ripping the belt from the loops of his pants.

“So full Rannie” you whimpered, collapsing onto your hands. Sweat dripped off your forehead and onto his body, you fucked him ferally like two people with nothing on the brain except each other — which wasn’t far from the truth.

“That’s it, good girl, gimme one more baby I know you can” Ransom urged, pushing himself into a sit and using the last of his brainpower to sink a hand between your joined bodies to rub tight circles over your puffy clit.

“She could never make you feel this good could she?” you gripped at his locks, moaning into his open mouth. Ransom’s head shook violently in your grasp, muttering out how you were the only woman in the world that could make him feel this euphoric. Your orgasm was approaching quicker and quicker, jumping over each mental hurdle until all that was left for your brain to think of was the man filling you to the brim.

“Fuck shit m’fucking close baby, gonna fill you up again, you want that huh? Want my cum in that messy little cunt?”

His words hooked your release between their clawed fingers and hurtled it into your body. Your world went white, your body stiffening and your walls milking the man below you for all he was worth. He spilt the last of what he could offer right against your cervix, holding you tight as he shouted like a madman.

The room settled, the only sounds being your mixed breaths gasping for air.

“That was good” Ransom chuckled, pulling out of your with a hiss and flipping you over “might need to make you jealous more.”

“Don’t you dare” you warned with a glare, sealing your lips with his when he leaned down, cleaning up the mess between your legs before dealing with his own.

“I really am sorry about tonight baby, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that” The brunette broke the silence that had overcome you both, his fingers massaging down your spine.

“It’s alright, she got what she deserved.”

“Yes” Ransom nodded, resting his weight against your back “and you got what you did too.”

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~

[krirebr]

Thoughts or thots on swapping the babes in More Than This? What if Ransom was the BFF!step bro and Steve was the arranged groom to be? 👀

OH MY GOD! This is just- oh no! This has taken over all my thoughts since you casually slipped it into my inbox yesterday. I'm not even going to attempt a drabble cause I know it would end up being 5k and just part one 🤣 and you will not do that to me! 🤣🤣🤣 So here are my quickly-jotted extensive thoughts on what this would look like.

Ok, so your dad married Linda when you were little and then died when you were 14ish so Linda "raised" you herself (mostly by sending you to boarding school).

I think having a younger sibling would have mellowed Ransom out a little bit. He's still an asshole, but not as much of one because he has someone to commiserate with over their terrible family. And I think having someone to protect would be good for him.

When the time comes, Harlan and Linda sit you down and tell you that you're engaged to Steve, whose family, for the purposes of this, is still in the movie business and still based in LA, although I think he splits his time between there and NY. They at least do you the service of telling you about the pregnancy clause.

You go straight to Ransom, who immediately takes you out to get very, very drunk. Amid all the bar-hopping, he lets you cry all over him.

The next day, while you're nursing your hangover, Ransom goes out to the house to give Harlan a piece of his mind. There's a lot of yelling. It doesn't have any practical effect on your situation, but it does make you feel seen.

Meanwhile, Steve, who is very mission-oriented and values his family above almost anything else, takes this arrangement very seriously immediately upon learning about it. I think it would just take one conversation with Sarah about how important this is to have him push down all his personal feelings (which are turbulent) to focus on doing what needs to be done.

Like in the original story, Steve and Ransom have a passing acquaintance. Ransom thinks Steve is holier-than-thou, arrogant, and must be hiding something behind his good-boy presentation. Steve is very wary of the kind of party girl the sister of Ransom Drysdale must be. This leaves both you and Steve very nervous about the arrangement.

He flies out to meet you, and you both do your best to get to know each other over dinner. It goes well enough. You don't hate each other. But he comes off as stiff and formal and makes you feel a little like you're just a mission to be completed. You leave the restaurant feeling like you still don't really know who you're going to be marrying.

You text intermittently over the next few weeks, mostly about the logistics of moving into his home. It doesn't exactly alleviate your nerves.

Ransom helps you pack up all your things. He listens as you worry out loud about all of the things you can't control. He curses both Linda and Harlan as he shares cheap beer and expensive whiskey with you. You're going to miss him so much.

The wedding goes as well as can be expected. Steve is kind to you and tells you how beautiful you look. You make pleasant small talk with him over dinner and during several dances. After, you go up to the honeymoon suite and you both immediately fall asleep.

The next day, right before you get on the private jet, Ransom threatens Steve to his face. Steve promises he'll always treat you as well as you deserve.

When you get to his house and he gives you the tour, there's one door upstairs that remains closed. He tells you that that room is private and asks you to respect that.

He doesn't want to have sex until you've gotten to know each other better. Part of you is relieved but another part is very nervous about the ticking clock hanging over both your heads. You're not sure if there's enough time for him to get as comfortable with you as he wants (and vice versa) before you contractually need to be pregnant.

After a few weeks, you're home alone, when somehow the door to his private room gets opened. Maybe you still have Lola, and she somehow gets into the room. You go running in after her and that's how you discover that it's an art studio. Steve's art is on the walls and on easels in different stages of completion. It's all so beautiful. In the center of the room, there's a breathtaking but unfinished charcoal sketch. It takes only a moment for you to realize it's of you. You're bowled over by how he sees you.

He finds you standing in front of the drawing, tears running down your face. He's embarrassed and worried that he must have offended you. He tries to apologize, but you stop him by smashing your lips into his. It takes him a moment for his brain to catch up, but once it does, he kisses you back with a passion you've never experienced before.

You have sex for the first time on the floor of his studio. It's hurried and messy and desperate. Later, he'll put you in the bed you share and take his time taking you apart, but right now, he needs to show you that that drawing is just a fraction of the beauty he sees in you.

It doesn't take long after that for you to conceive your first child of many.

Oh my god! See what this did to me?!? Just this headcanon is almost 1k! I hope that's a satisfactory answer. 🤣🤣🤣 I loved getting the chance to flip MTT on its head like this. Thank you for sending such a great question!!

[late-to-the-party-81]

Thank you for reading and reblogging!!!

Yesterday's Dream, Today's Nightmare

AN: Okay, this is a re-post of my fic from two days ago. It wasn't showing up in any tags what so ever, so I have deleted the original post and am trying again.

Hello all! I had a little break from writing after my sleepover, but here I am, back on my bullshit, yay!

This fic, my first ever with Ransom, is for @cockslut-padalecki 's #feelingluckychallenge. This fic is DARK, so if that's not your cup of tea, please scroll on by...

Beta'd by @christywantspizza, divider by @firefly-graphics, mood board by me, with credits going to those who took the images.

Please check out my master list

Word Count: 1398

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

CW: Manipulation, Drugging, Rape

You took a few steadying breaths as you walked up the steps to Blood Like Wine, the publishing house that you’d just landed a job at. This wasn’t any job. No, it was your dream job.

Just four weeks ago you’d been at home when you’d received a letter from the prestigious publishers, owned by famed novelist Harlan Thomby. You worked for another local, but much smaller, company and the closest connection you’d had to BLW was to be a guest at an industry party where they were also in attendance. 

You’d opened the letter, hands shaking with trepidation, and your eyes had skimmed the contents. The next moment you were jumping up and down, screaming and sending your cat dashing across your apartment and under your bed. You’d read it again, unbelieving, but there it was, in black and white. Blood Like Wine had headhunted you and wanted you to start as soon as possible. You actually had difficulty comprehending the starting salary. 

So you’d given notice at your current firm and confirmed everything with your new employer over email with one of the company administrators. Now here you were.

You pushed open the doors, marvelling at the opulence of just the reception hallway.  There was a smartly dressed woman behind the desk and you made your way towards her. However, you were interrupted by the appearance of a very tall, very handsome man, wearing a cable-knit sweater and dark slacks. He strode up to you.

“Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to Blood Like Wine.” He grasped your hand and shook it, then turned to the receptionist. “Don’t worry, Kelly, I’ve got this.” Looking back at you, he smiled and you felt a jolt of heat making its way down your body. “I’m Ransom Drysdale, Harlan’s grandson. Let me show you around.”

He guided you into the main body of the building with ease, and you could feel a tingling through your clothes where his hand lay against the small of your back. You were herded down the wide corridors and into a large office, where he slid past you and gesticulated to the plush arm-chair, facing his desk.

“Please, sit. Drink?”

He was standing next to a drink’s trolley, a cut crystal decanter in his hand, shaking it gently in your direction.

“Umm, thank you, Mr. Drysdale…”

“Ransom, please.”

“... Ransom, but it’s a bit too early for me. Umm, could I have a glass of water, though?”

“Sure, sweetheart, soda okay?”  

You felt a wave of embarrassment, tinged with frustration, wash over you at the pet-name, but you tamped it down, not wanting to cause an issue on your first day. You were glad he had turned his back to you, whilst he fixed the drinks, because it meant that he couldn’t see the expression that flashed over your face. It was always disappointing when the handsome ones ended up being pigs.  

Your smile was back on your face when he returned with your drink, passing it to you and then perching on his desk, sipping his own. 

The height difference between the large piece of wooden furniture and the soft chair you were in left him towering over you and your face level with his crotch. 

Great. So you could either tilt your head all the way back to look up at him, getting a crick in your neck or stare at his bits. You tossed back half your soda and looked him in the eyes.

“I’m so glad you took up the offer of employment. You might not know it, but you’ve been garnering attention.”

He shifted against the desk, the movement tightening the fabric across the front of his pants. Your eyes momentarily flicked down, but returned to his face almost immediately.

“And I’m glad to be here… Ransom. It’s always been a dream to work for your grandfather’s company.”

“So, you’re gonna be working closely alongside me, toots, which means we’re gonna get to know each other really well.”

You kept a smile on your face, trying to ignore the sirens going off in your head, because he couldn’t really mean what that sounded like? It must be bad phrasing, or he’s trying to see how you do under pressure. Yes, that must be it, but there was a small twitch to his lips, like he was trying to control a smirk.  

You placed your, now empty, glass down on the side table with a shaky hand, and stood up, smoothing your skirt.

“I’m sure you’ll be impressed by my professionalism.” You moved behind the chair, attempting to use it as a subtle shield. “Now, can you show me where I’ll be working. I’m sure there’s a number of systems to get set up on and for me to learn.”

Was it getting hot in here? You felt warm and shifted on your feet at the mild discomfort.

Ransom also put his glass down, pushed away from the desk and stepped towards you, reaching your side in two long-legged strides. Feeling your personal space being violated you attempted to take a step back, but wobbled on your feet, and Ransom’s hands shot out to clasp your upper arms.

“Hey, be careful now, sweetheart. Don’t wanna have an accident on your first day.”

You were feeling dizzy, and foggy, and so very warm.

“Not… your… sweetheart.”

You heard your words as if underwater, slurred and not quite right. The alarms in your head were deafening and you tried to push away from Ransom, but his grip tightened.

“But you are. You have been since I saw you at the party the other month. The way that dress clung to you, the way you laughed. Knew you were mine.”  The last word was vehement, and you risked a glance up to his face.

In your fogged state, his handsome face had taken on a sinister, predatory, façade and a whimper of fear forced its way out of your mouth. He spun the pair of you and started to steer you, backwards, across the room.

“It was so easy to send you that letter, and then add something to your water. Now you’re here with me, where you’re supposed to be and you’re gonna be a good girl, alright?”

Your legs bumped against something and you felt yourself being lowered down. Your swirling brain supplied you with the words ‘chaise lounge’, but it felt as though you were swimming through mud.

Your back hit the cushions and Ransom leaned over you, his mouth descending to smash his lips against your own. You whimpered again, but he used the moment to push his tongue into your mouth, like an invader. One of his large hands untucked your blouse from your skirt and pulled it open, to roughly palm at your breast.

His hips slotted between your legs and circled to grind his erection against your core. He grunted into your mouth and cruelly pinched your nipple through your bra. You tried to push him off, but your arms wouldn’t obey you and batted ineffectually against his arms.

He rose up, to look down on your face, his smile wide and terrifying. Letting go of you, secure that the roofie he’d slipped you was doing its job, he pushed your pencil skirt up to bunch around your waist. He then tugged at the seam of your pantyhose until they split up the middle and pushed your underwear to the side.

You squeaked in fear, and tried to flail your arms, but Ransom just ‘tutted’ and stroked your face. 

“You’ll love me in time, sweetheart.”

He looked down at your bared sex and spat on it, before rubbing his saliva around, over your clit and your folds, with his thumb. He undid his pants, drawing out his cock and jerking it a few times. In your hazy vision, you could tell he was big, and you tried once again to get away.

“Oh, that’s not nice. You being a brat? Imma fuck that out of you.”

He pressed his cock, red and weeping against your pussy and you felt tears starting to roll down your face. He wiped one off with his thumb and sucked the salty droplet into his mouth.

Then he pushed home.

You cried out, or at least tried to, and with every one of his rough thrusts prayed to wake up from this nightmare.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @beelicious-barnes @yarnforbrains @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @turbolisedcomet @goldylions

[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

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Hi, just wondering how the next part of Always meant to be is coming along? I’m currently rereading it ☺️

Four weeks of fun: The Start

You should have been feeling excited about jetting off to Italy to start your vacation, and you were, but you were also nervous. Extremely nervous. You weren't exactly the biggest fan of flying.

That's why you were clutching Ransom's hand as the two of you sat together, slowly approaching the airport.

"Hey," Ransom lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "What would you say if I said I want you to wear this over your eyes?" He asked with a playful smile as he held up a silk scarf.

You raised your briws as you looked at it then him. "I'd say, sure, later tonight." You smiled at him, making him grin.

"I don't mean like that," Ransom paused, "But remind me later about it." He winked, making you roll your eyes with a smile. "I have a surprise for you, so put this on until I say you can take it off."

You groaned, "Ran-"

"C'mon, beautiful, it's just a bit of fun." He said as he began to place it in front of you, taking no for an answer.

After a while, the town car you were in came to a stop, and Ransom helped you out. He instructed you to walk forward, keeping a hold of your hand as you did until he told you to stop walking.

"Can I take this off now?" You asked Ransom as you tugged on the scarf that was still covering your eyes.

"Not yet."

You let out a startled yelp as Ransom scooped you up, laughing as you quickly wrapped your arms around his next and held on for dear life.

"Relax, beautiful, I won't drop you." Ransom pressed a kiss to your temple and began to climb up what felt like a set of stairs.

"Why don't I believe you, Drysdale?"

Ransom rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him. "Behave, or things could change." He teased, giving you a playful jiggle, making you squeal and cling onto him.

Not long after, Ransom came to stop and placed you back onto your feet. You could hear something in the background around you, but only focused on Ransom's hands that gently caressed your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

"Before I let you see, remember, I did this for you, okay?" Ransom whispered against your ear.

"Why does that worry me?" Ransom chuckled and gently pulled the scarf from your eyes. "Surprise." He whispered.

After your eyes had adjusted, your mouth fell open at the sight before you. Words failed you as you took in your surroundings. The small yet beautifully luxurious private jet literally takes your breath away.

Ransom's brow furrowed in worry as he waited for your reaction. "Are you mad?"

You shook your head, "Why would I be?"

"Because you told me not to waste money on a private jet." Ransom said as he moved to stand in front of you.

"And when have you ever done what you've been told to?" You smiled at him playfully.

Ransom rolled his eyes with a huff. "Well, you're wrong."

You furrowed tour brows and wrapped yournarmsmaround hisnl neck. "Is that so?"

Ransom nodded, his hand once again resting on your hips. "I didn't pay for this." He smirked. "It's the company jet." He grinned.

Your eyes widened, "Are you kidding?"

Ransom shook his head. "Harlan suggested we use it after I.., hmm, mentioned something about..." Ransom's cheeks began to blush slightly as he looked down.

"About what?" You asked with a soft smile.

"Well... you," He looked at you, "I know you hate flying, and I thought if we were in more of a private setting then, maybe, I dunno... you'd relax a bit more... or I could distract you." He said the last part with a wiggle of hisneyebrows making you laugh at him.

"Thank you," You leaned up and pressed your lips against his. "Really. I feel less nervous already." You smiled at him, trying not to think about the statistics you looked up online and the fact you are 200 times more likely to die while flying on a private plane than you are while flying on a commercial airliner. You didn't want to ruin Ransom's thoughtful surprise.

"C'mon, let's get a drink... what you having? Coffee?" Ransom asked as he led you over to a small sofa.

Your brow furrowed, "I thought you'd have champagne on ice, Mr Drysdale." You said as you sat down.

Ransom grinned as he walked over to where the little bar sat at the other side of the space. "Dont you worry, beautiful, I have, that's just a little later. I just know how you like a good coffee first." He made you both a coffee before joining you on the sofa. "I had someone collect some sandwiches and cake from that place you like, so we've got breakfast ready to go when you're hungry."

You shook your head with a chuckle. "If you don't start being an asshole to someone soon, I mighty think you're not my Ransom." You teased, making him scoff and roll his eyes.

The sound of someone clearing their throat beside you drew your attention away from Ransom and up to the tall blonde womam, whom you assumed was a part of the cabin crew.

"Good morning, Mr Drysdale. It's good to have you back on board." She smiled at Ransom. "The Captain has informed me that we are almost ready to start our flight."

Ransom nodded, "Glad to hear it." He said, slipping his arm around your shoulders as he sipped his coffee.

The young woman excused herself before walking out of sight.

You looked at Ransom with a knowing smirk. "She's sucked your dick before, hasn't she?"

Ransom smirked into his coffee. "You're words, beautiful, not mine." He winked at you.

"Such a manwhore." You laughed to yourself.

@letsdisneythings @smile1318 @readawaythereality @dad-supremedeactivated04291992 @marebare21 @slutforchrisjamalevans @summersong69 @gretavankleep37 @calimoi @noonenuts @nighttimestan @sarahbellesaurus @coffeebooksandfandom @lewisroscoelove @oceansrose2002 @teambarnes72

[aiyaiy]

'The Root of All Ransom' Masterlist

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (enemies-to-lovers) ⛈🔥🦆

Ransom hates you, that one, self-made, rich bitch who wins all the philanthropy awards, but he finds a way to use you to anger his mother, Linda. Bonus that he can get some ass in the process. What could possibly go wrong? Money is the only thing he loves, right?

Angst, romance, and smut; each chapter has its own warnings. Please read them carefully. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY You will find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist, but not here!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Mini One-shots:

Gifts Given -- set between pt. 4 and 5 (doesn't really matter tho)

Gifts Received -- set during or anytime after pt. 4

Love of My Life -- set days after pt. 6

A Fluffy Blanket -- set after pt. 6

Beck and Call -- set anytime after pt. 4

Help with A Basic Task -- set after pt. 6

Ski Resort -- teeny tiny drabble after pt. 6

Fire & Ice -- after pt. 6 NEW! 10/20

*grumble grumble* FINE.

The Sequel: RANSOM DEMANDS

Planned--the engagement

Disaster--the wedding

Unplanned--time apart

Unhinged--Ran gets another shock

Daddy--(take a wild damn guess, gang)

[Main Masterlist]

[jiyascepter]

───── May

So I decided that I should be making my monthly reading lists to promote some fellow writers even more, even if one person reads a fic from here it would change something, wouldn't it?

(idk if tumblr would let me tag so many writers at once, but the links to fics work so pls check out their profiles too!)

And also if I ever want to reread them it would be easier to find 👀 I'll try my best to make these lists every month ✨️

So here are some lovely fanfics I've read this month, please make sure to give them some love by commenting or reblogging, it means a lot to us writers 🤍

Fluff: 🥰 | Angst: 💔 | Hurt/Comfort: ❤️‍🩹 | Smut: 🔥 | Dark: 🖤 | Humor: 😆

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89

Loki's Island Fever [Avengers!Loki x reader] | ongoing 🔥😆

@vbecker10

Talk to Me [Loki x f!reader] Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 is wip | ❤️‍🩹🥰

@lokischambermaid

From The Horny Misadventures of Nomad Steve:

Disciplinary Action [Nomad!Steve Rogers x Agent!reader] 🔥

Positive Reinforcement [Nomad!Steve Rogers x Agent!reader] 🔥😆

@lokisgoodgirl

Distractions [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Like a Queen [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Also check out her upcoming series : The Rite

@buckys-wintersoldier

His name, his property [Dark!Steve Kemp x f!reader] 🖤🔥

Glazed (donut) Holes [Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x girlfriend!reader] 🔥

Teasing [Dom Bf!Bucky x Sub gf!reader] 🔥

Little Perv co-written with @lanabuckybarnes [Stepbrother!Bucky Barnes x Stepsister!Reader x BestFriend!Steve Rogers] 🔥

Bucky Offers You a Better Job [CEO!Bucky x Assistant f!reader] 🔥

Domination [SoftDom!Bucky x Sub!reader] 🔥

How Love Works [Ransom Drysdale x reader] 🥰

@foxherder

Loki imagine (based off The Avengers) [Loki x reader] 🥰

@vbecker10

Help you bear it [Loki x f!reader] ❤️‍🩹

You Can't Hurt Me [Loki x f!reader] ❤️‍🩹

What Prank? [Bucky x f!reader] 🥰😆

Running Into Trouble [Loki x f!reader] 🥰

Whatever It Takes [Loki x f!reader] 🥰 slight🔥

The Dress [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Don't Forget [Loki x Disabled Female reader] 🥰❤️‍🩹

@loki-cees-all

Keeping Score [TVA!Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@sarahscribbles

Vanilla and Honeycomb [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@bookishtheaterlover7

How Long Could We Be a Sad Song? [Chris Evans x Secret Girlfriend!Reader] 💔

@muddyorbsblr

Curiosities [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@mischiefmaker615

Feral [Frost Giant!Loki x f!reader] 🖤🔥

@buckets-and-trees

Give Up [Alpha!Bucky x Fem Omega!reader] 🔥

@simplyholl

The Interview [Rockstar!Bucky x f!reader] 🔥

Truly Desperate [Loki x f!reader] 🔥😆

@lulubelle814

The Accident and the Misunderstanding [Tom Hiddleston x Reader] 💔🥰

@sergeantbarnessdoll

You Stayed [Steve Kemp x reader] 🥰

@buckysdarling

If You Wanna Come, Give My Brother Some [Steve x reader x Bucky] 🔥

@mrs-illyrian-baby

No Sacrifice Without Blood [Vampire!Loki x reader] 🖤🔥

@divine-knight-hand

A Show Of Temptation [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

So yeah these were all the amazing stories I read this month, make sure to give these a read ! Also if you have any fic recs please let me know ;)

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 5

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

 You left Bucky dumbfounded after you tried to hit him. You were so angry after hearing that you got fired and lashed out at him.

If he wants to report you, so be it. You don’t care. You have lost everything. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You went to see your dad, who was arranging flowers for the next family.

“Dad, I’m going back to the city today,” you said, your voice tight.

“What’s the result?” Tom asked, remembering today was the day for the investigation results.

You rubbed your nose with your finger and cleared your throat, trying to hold back tears. “They let me go, but I got fired instead. But hey, at least I got my money back.” Your bank account had been unlocked by the judge, and you wanted to go back to the city to get all your stuff and sell your penthouse.

Tom looked concerned. “You want me to go with you?”

You shook your head. “No. I will come back after two days.”

“I’ll drive you to the station,” Tom offered, his voice filled with worry.

You headed back to the car and noticed Bucky wasn’t there anymore. As you drove to the station, the silence between you and your dad was heavy with unspoken words.

When you arrived at the station, you saw Natasha again. She looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy. “You’re using the train? Why didn’t you use the car that Bucky gave you?” She felt bitter since Bucky never offered her his car, yet you, who had just come back, could use it.

You knew from her tone that she was jealous. You just said, “It’s too slow.”

Natasha scoffed, “Yeah right.” Then she left.

You rolled your eyes; she hadn’t changed at all.

******

You arrived back in the city. Once, you thought this place would be your home. Now, you just wanted to leave it behind.

You didn’t want to set foot in the company again. You told your secretary to throw away all your stuff. Besides, there was nothing important. You had already secured everything in your safe deposit box. That’s why you had to clear your name to get access to your bank account back.

Early the next morning, you went to the bank. All you needed was the pen drive. It held all the leverage you might need. If someone tried to put you in a bad spot, this would be your last resort.

As you entered the bank, you felt a sense of relief mixed with determination. You approached the safe deposit boxes and signed the necessary forms. The pen drive felt heavy in your hand, despite its small size. It contained all the proof of strange transactions and could clear your name or take down those who had wronged you.

After securing the pen drive, you took a moment to breathe. Once a place of dreams and ambition, the city felt like a battlefield you had barely escaped.

After that, you got into the taxi to go back to your condo. As the car stopped at a red light, you saw the tall building—the headquarters owned by the Drysdale family.

You used to come here every morning, even sleeping in your office sometimes. But now, it was all in the past.

It still left a bitter taste in your mouth. After everything you did, they just threw you away. You wondered who would replace you since you knew your skills were unparalleled. No one could match you.

What made you so upset was Ransom. Until now, he hadn’t replied to a single message or email you’d sent him.

To be honest, you saw it coming. The friendship between you two had long since deteriorated. There was a time you liked him, but those feelings vanished after overhearing a conversation at a party where Ransom talked with his friends.

One of his friends had asked, “What’s up with you and her? We’ve noticed you two have been spending a lot of time together.”

Ransom scoffed, sipping his whiskey. “Nothing. I only see her as numbers. She’s the key to making me lead the company.”

“Wow,” his friend had replied, impressed.

You were heartbroken when you heard that. But part of you had expected it, knowing that Ransom was out of your league.

You arrived at your condominium and began packing. You had once thought your life was sad because your place was so empty. But now, you were grateful since it meant you could move out quickly.

You gathered everything into your luggage and boxes.

'Ding.Dong'

Then you heard the doorbell. You wondered who it could be. Besides your assistant, Ransom was the only other person who ever came to your place. Could it be him? But he never replied to any of your texts.

You looked at the camera by the door and saw Ransom on the screen. He looked a mess.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling up. You hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Ransom stood there, disheveled, his eyes hollow and tired.

You were confused. Should you open the door or not? On the other hand, you needed answers too.

Holding back your anger, you opened the door. Ransom was taken aback. He didn’t seem to expect you would actually open the door for him.

You stood behind the door, opened your arms as if welcoming him, and said, “You owe me an explanation.”

Ransom, hesitating for a moment, put his hands into his coat pockets and walked into your condo. He noticed the luggage and boxes scattered around the living room.

“You're leaving,” he observed.

Ransom scratched his head, frustration evident, then put his hand on his waist and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You gave him a stern look. “Why are you upset? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and tired. “It's for the best.”

You scoffed, incredulous. “That's it? After years together, you just throw me away like that?”

You pointed your finger at him, anger boiling over. “I knew it was you who framed me for insider trading.”

Ransom walked past you, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He drank slowly, as if buying time to gather his thoughts. Finally, he opened his arms and leaned against the marble counter. “It's more complicated than you think.”

You crossed your arms tightly. “I'm not in the mood to solve a puzzle.”

Ransom sighed. “Three days before the FBI raided your office, my family heard Harlan’s will.”

After Harlan’s funeral, his will wasn’t read immediately. It was his last request to delay the reading.

“What’s that got to do with me?” you demanded.

Ransom’s eyes bore into yours. “Because Harlan chose you!”

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from under you. “Me?” you gasped, speechless. Now, it all made sense—why none of the Drysdales were willing to help you. They were angry, feeling like you had stolen their birthright.

“It was my mom and her siblings who contacted the FBI and got you fired,” Ransom admitted.

“And where were you?” you yelled, hugging yourself tightly. “You’re no different from them! You left me alone.”

Ransom took a step closer, placing his hands on your shoulders gently. “I was captured.”

You raised your head, eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”

He nodded, his expression sincere. “They let me out after they finally got what they wanted.”

"For you to get fired," Ransom began, his tone sympathetic as he addressed the issue.

“Why? I also didn't know that Harlan chose me. If you had asked me, I would have refused it,” you expressed, your voice tinged with disbelief and frustration as you crossed your arms tightly, your body language mirroring your inner turmoil. Your brow furrowed, and your shoulders tensed as you spoke, emphasizing the weight of your words.

“I know. That's what I told them,” Ransom replied, pulling you into a hug, his embrace offering both comfort and reassurance as he wrapped his arms around you securely. You stiffened momentarily in surprise at his gesture before relaxing into the embrace, your body melting into his as you allowed yourself to be comforted.

“Their plan backfired though,” Ransom continued, a wry smile playing on his lips as he spoke, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation at the situation.

“Huh?” you responded, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, your body tense with anticipation as you awaited his explanation. Your arms remained crossed tightly over your chest, a defensive stance reflecting your skepticism.

“The employees made a petition for you to come back,” Ransom revealed, his tone tinged with amusement at the irony of the situation, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

You were left speechless, the news catching you off guard. You had always kept to yourself at work, never realizing your impact on your colleagues, your eyes widening in surprise as you processed his words.

Ransom chuckled softly. “You're the reason why we got triple profits and they got bonuses. Why would they want to lose you?” he remarked, admiration evident in his voice, his gaze locked on yours with a mixture of fondness and respect. You offered a small, hesitant smile in response, your body language softening as his words sank in.

For the last few years, the projects that you and your team worked on have consistently generated significant profits, earning you the respect and appreciation of your colleagues, a sense of pride swelling within you as you recall your past achievements.

You nodded slowly, a sense of validation washing over you as you acknowledged the impact of your work.

“And I'm here to tell you that you're not fired,” Ransom declared, his words carrying a sense of relief and sincerity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of acceptance or understanding.

You were supposed to be happy when you heard that, but with your father's condition, you had second thoughts.

You pushed Ransom away, whispering, “I'm sorry.”

Ransom looked puzzled. “What?”

You struggled to explain, “The reason why I said no is because of my dad. He's got cancer.” And you're still hurt by the betrayal from the company you've worked for a long time.

Ransom's eyes widened. “You went back home and met your dad?”

You nodded your head.

Ransom couldn't believe this. He had never heard you mention your dad until now, and it was the first time he saw you being vulnerable.

“Alright. I can't stop you,” Ransom said resignedly. He knew you had to go, but he was going to miss you. It would be difficult to find a talented person like you.

“Wait. Does it mean you've met the people who made your life miserable?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You should show them the new you,” Ransom suggested. Having attended the same high school, he had witnessed what they did to you.

You looked at Ransom, considering his words. It was strange hearing him advise you like this, given your complicated history. But there was a sincerity in his voice that made you pause.

“Maybe,” you mumbled, still uncertain.

Ransom nodded, his expression softening. “They don't know what they're missing out on. You've grown stronger, more resilient.”

You managed a weak smile, appreciating his attempt to boost your spirits. Despite everything, there was a flicker of gratitude for his unexpected support.

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Inside Her Fantasy, Part 4

Summary: so you could take it off

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, cream pie, mentions of videoing, mentions of phone sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

Previous

Series Masterlist

Willow drops a magazine on the table in front of you, but you push it away without laying down your Kindle. She lays another one down, and you scoot it aside as well. Annoying. This is your daily reading hour, and she’s interrupting. Another, and you glare up at her, and she drops a stack full down on the first three.

Removing your eyes from her, you look down to the magazine on top, and quirk up a smile. God, Ransom looked so good in that car. He felt so good driving away from the game with his hand tightly on your thigh. You couldn’t see much from the pictures, but apparently that little Beamer is synonymous with your boyfriend.

“You went to a game,” that much is obvious. You’d think by the way the gossip rags were talking you discovered a cure for an incurable disease. You play coy, shrugging, and pick up the magazine, flipping to the big gossip in question. Who knew that going out with your boyfriend after he played a winning game could be so scandalous. Deserving of all these front pages? If only they knew you and Ransom would rather be in Bucky and Sarge’s backyard with the kids.

“You went to a game, and walked into the locker room,” you sure did. Had a few bodyguards with you. You made them follow you, while you and Ransom drove around for a while just the two of you with stolen kisses at every red light. Ending with a dinner at the Patriots’ favorite restaurant, and they had it rented out. Completely private.

You and Ransom had danced to the music. He showed you off to his teammates. He swayed you back and forth while you watched Bucky playing pool. He even taught you how to play pool. He mostly enjoyed leaning over you, whispering in your ear, and so did you. It was the most low key thing you’ve done in years, and it was one of your favorite nights.

Each day with Ransom shows you not just how much you’ve fallen for him, but how much you are completely in love with him. It was loud, obnoxious, raucous, and you could barely hear anything but music and laughter. But whenever Ransom said, ‘Bud,’ everything fades away, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. Only his voice could be heard.

His voice rings above everything else in your life. You love what you do, you adore performing for your fans, but life currently felt dull if Ransom wasn’t in the moment with you. And when he’s around — it sounds ridiculous but it’s like there’s a brightness, and a glow.

Willow clears her throat, and you look up at her sweetly, “You have to tell me these things, so I know how to get in front of it. That is my job.”

“What is there to get in front of?” Normally you trust Willow. But whatever is in these magazines didn’t seem like a big deal. Looking through another you see that someone’s Instagram story was used to show you and Ransom in a world of your own. His hand is dangerously low on your back, so low his fingers touch your ass. He’s pulling you so tight against his chest, and you are beaming up at him. You wish this was a clearer photo.

“If you’re going to do a,” she sighs, looking away from you before blurting out, “A showmance, then I need to know.”

You tear the page of the girl’s instagram post out, and balk up at Willow. Did she really say what you think she did? How could she not know what is happening between you and Ransom? It is so pure and amazing, and she cheapened it with one word. “This is not a showmance!”

“You’ve literally just met the guy, and you’re wandering around after a football game acting like you’re in high school,” she seriously didn’t know you. Just met him? You’ve been hanging out with him. You have stayed behind the scenes. She knows this about you! But something innocent as high school sounds like a breath of fresh air.

“Maybe that’s what I need in my life! Everything has been so calculated for the past few years. Launching the biggest tour of my career. But I — I love him,” Willows eyes burst wide as she stares at you. You didn’t say that easily, despite what some people state as facts. “I haven’t just met him. I met him after the concert, the one I invited him to? And I’ve talked to him everyday since then. I’ve made every down time be about spending time with him. I love him.”

Damn, that feels amazing to say. You love him. You love Ransom Drysdale. You are in love with Ransom Drysdale. Ransom is the one.

Willow takes a deep breath, sighing as she stares at you, “You’re taking him to Rhode Island, aren’t you?” You shrug. You hadn’t even thought about it. Rhode Island is your sanctuary. Only the most special people in your life got to venture there. Of course it makes sense to take Ransom. Show him your oasis. The most private location you have. Total privacy. For the most part. As private as you can get.

“I know you. And you deserve happiness, too,” you did. And it is Ransom. You didn’t care about how many people wanted to pry into your life anymore. He is in your life. You want him in it. You want to share your love with the world. A bit of it anyways. You want them to see who is making you this happy. See who you want to spend the rest of your life with. That’s scary to think about, but you’re in love. Possibly never been in love like this before, but still, in love.

“You’ve got a couple weeks off. Spend it with people you really care about,” Willow spins on her heel, leaving you with bubbling thoughts. It seems ridiculous to plan sex, but you’re ready. More ready than ever, and you’re glad that you and Ransom have waited. Extra happy that Ransom never once pressured you. You’re pretty sure he’s enjoyed the ride just as much. And no sex doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.

You expel a breath, already getting excited for the next stop on the tour, if only for it to end so you can have a mini break. You’ll spend every moment basking in Ransom, or he in you. You want to spoil him with affection and all the attention. Buy a new dress just for the occasion. A soft melody sticks into your brain, and you record yourself humming. The words aren’t quite there yet.

Whatever lyrics come later, you know they’re Ransom. All about him. Maybe you had to have those extra domestic moments with him to understand what string of words need to be there. It didn’t matter. It is Ransom’s song. Your ode to him.

You hum that diddy again, stroking down your guitar, and still no words come out. Your eyes look out at the horizon, trying to focus on anything but how difficult this stupid ass song is being. Listening to the seagulls squawk as the waves crash onto the rocks. It’s a peacefulness that you cannot get enough of. Letting the world lead you to lyrics.

You strum a chord, and smile as a line comes to your mind. Reaching to your phone you press record, and hum and write lyrics as they happen. Yours and Ransom’s love story spilling out with your voice. He’d be here soon, but you wish he was with you right now. Hearing you sing the story of him. You could write an entire album about just him. He was that amazing.

You pause a moment, and take a deep salty breath. Inhaling a world separate from whatever roaring noise is going on out there. A place to reset, and a place you didn’t share with anyone, but your mom. You hum again as his feet crunch in the pebbles. Hearing every step he takes before seating himself behind you, and his arms rest softly on your thighs.

“Bud, it’s beautiful out here,” he softly kisses on your shoulder, and you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck. He takes the offer, and kisses almost too gently over your skin. his warm breath brushes across your skin, and sends lust pooling in your core, “How much time do you have off?”

Ransom has been chomping at the bit to mark your skin. “I have a two weeks,” he nips at the sensitive column, and you attempt to strum your guitar. Weakly sighing a few words before you stop. How can you concentrate with his sinful mouth biting over your skin?

“Keep singing,” he teases, nibbling a bit harder, and sucks a bruise on your skin.

“I can’t,” you whimper. Your legs start to spread on their own accord, and the wind blows up your new dress that you bought just for today. Just for him, “Ran,” his eyes flutter close at your voice. “Ransom,” you start again as his ministrations slow.

Singing out a few lines breathlessly, he gulps. His giant hands rub on your thighs, and you sing the line, “I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” and he pauses completely. Freezing in his spot, and you sing it again, adding sighs at the end of the line that make perfect sense for the song.

“Are you recording” you nod as an answer. Leaning back into his broad chest, and feeling his cock throb against you. He’s been so stoic during this, and this is about to go too far. Or not far enough. A hand slides from your thigh, under the new dress, and up your body. Stopping at the apex of your thigh, “Keep it on,” he whispers on your skin while his hand cups your covered mound.

Lightning flashes in your mind at the contact, and you desperately roll your hips. Your body pleading for friction while he softly kisses over your shoulders. Up your neck, and behind your ear, kissing over the shell, “What sounds will you make when I enter inside of you?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You didn’t. This moment is beyond pleasure. It’s taking your relationship to a place you’ve never been. It’s giving yourself to him, “We can keep recording it,” you tease him, and he growls behind your ear. Giving your lobe a little bite.

“Just the sound?”

“Whatever you want,” throwing everything out the window. All your safeguards that you put up around you. Because you know deep down Ransom would never do anything to hurt you, or to make you lose your trust in him. Both of you traveled for your job, you had to have some way to connect you when you are worlds apart.

“Why are you promising me this?” He whispers against your body.

“Because I — I trust you,” chickenshit. You should have been honest with him. You already told him you didn’t have sex with someone unless you knew you loved them.

“I love you, too,” your half lidded eyes, shoot fully open. Looking out at the water again, but wishing you could look behind you better. Twisting your head, you look at him the best you can, and he’s got a boyish grin on his face. “That’s what you were meaning to say, right?”

“Yes.”

“Does it make it easier to say, since I kinda said it first? But, I added a too, so really you said it first. And I think you’re in love with me. I think you are madly in love with me,” a smile spreads across your face as you nod at him. “And I’m hopelessly in love with you, too.”

“I love you, Ran.”

“Yep,” he groans, scooting away from you. He stands up awkwardly, and your eyes lock onto the aching bulge in his pants. “Unless you want me to discover your body on these rocks, where anyone could maybe have a drone or long range camera, we should go inside.”

“Yeah,” you let out the longest breath of air, standing with the guitar, and your phone. “We should — should go inside.”

“Turn off the recording,” you look at him a bit confused. He just said, “Our first time making love is just for us. But I’m not leaving the bed, the couch, the table, the counter, the bathroom, the theater, the pool, the stairs, the…”

“I get it,” you giggle again, stopping the recording on your phone.

“I’m going to have every part of you, in every part of this house,” you hope that this is a promise because there’s nothing you have wanted more than him. All of him, and everywhere. He holds out a hand to take your own, but instead, he slides up your dress enough to pick you up. Placing your legs around his slim waist as he carries you towards the house.

“I can walk,” you giggle, staring up at him in awe. Noticing every fleck of gold and green in his eyes. He only shakes his head no. His steps are steady. He seems to be counting them, and struggling to keep his eyes off you. You’ve never wanted anything more than him, and you’ve thought you’d been in love before, but this time is different.

And not in a way that everyone says that this time is different. Different in a way that puts all the other times to shame. You knew as you were falling for them that it ultimately wouldn’t last. Some things you just know deep into your bones. You made things work before because you love love. But with Ransom, you feel him. That invisible string that was leading you to him had wound itself so tightly around the two of you. It is holding you two in place because it’s where you’re meant to be.

You could give up your career if it only meant spending more time with him. Building a life and family with him. It all made sense. You see it unfolding in front of your eyes. He sets you down on the living room floor, and starts a weird hum. It’s off key, but it’s the very song you were just attempting to sing to him. He was actually paying attention to you. Humming, and spinning you around in the middle of the living room like it is the most natural thing to do. Simple, and meaning so much to you.

You join in with his humming, mumbling a few of the lyrics in with his off key sound. Knowing that this is your home. Not this house, but him. You smile as you gaze up at him. Basking in the innocent part of love. It really is so high school. Love should be fun. It should be several things, but this is the most blissful you’ve been with love. Not in an overly goofy way, but a way that is just — Ransom and you.

You smirk as you spin away from him. Starting to walk towards the hallway. You’re the one taking calculated steps as you head towards the bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, and you spin to look at him, “I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” most men would rip the dress off your body, but Ransom’s hands slide behind your back, and he pulls the ribbon, letting it drift to your sides. Loosening up the dress, and he pulls each strap gently off your shoulders.

It dips lower, revealing your lack of a bra. Ransom’s Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. And with one shimmy of your hips, the dress drifts to the floor. Piling down at your feet, and you look up at him through your lashes. They don’t make men that look like Ransom. All man. Thick enough to crush you if he wanted to. Towering over you, and yet he is still the biggest teddy bear you know.

His arm props up against the doorframe, eyes wandering down your body, “I think I’m a bit overdressed,” taking a deep breath, you reach for his jeans first. Undoing the button before you pull at the hem of his shirt. Tugging it up his body, and he finishes removing it. You press both hands on his chest, smiling when you feel his rapid heart beat.

“Don’t tell anybody, but there’s very few things that make me weak.”

“And what makes you weak?” Leaning forward, Ransom wraps his arms around your legs, just below your ass, and he hauls you out of the floor. Walking you to the bed, where he tosses you on top. He steps out of his shoes, and pulls only his jeans down before crawling into the bed. Immediately leaning over your body, and capturing your lips.

His weight, and bare chest press up against your own, and you pull him as tight to you as possible. Fingernails scraping up and down his back, while his hand roams down your body. His fingers tease the elastic on your panties, while he sweetly nips over your mouth, “Ran, what are you thinking?”

“How much I love you, and even though I don’t deserve you, I don’t want to fight this. I can’t,” you caress his cheek, leaning up to give him chaste kisses. He’s beautiful. You didn’t throw that word around often with men, but he is. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’ve never loved anyone like you before,” his mouth cocks into a grin. “And you’re killing me here,” instead of going under the elastic like you need, he cups your covered mound, and you whimper at him. “Ran — please?”

There’s something in the whine of your voice, coupled with the sweetest pout from your face. You said please. Softly and weakly begging for him, and he pushes aside your panties, and runs his fingers through your slit. Gaping open his mouth as he watches you face fill with pleasure, “You’re soaked,” you know. You’re heated, and drowning in your own arousal at this point.

“Is this all for me?”

“No, there’s so much more,” you bite on your lip when he finds your bundle of nerves. Giving it a few teasing touches before he dips down between your lips, and toys with your entrance. “Keep going,” you goad him, and he pushes two fingers into your warmth, and euphoria rushes through your blood. Arching your back as you struggle to breathe.

“Shh,” he whispers. His own mouth going agape at the feeling of your velvety walls. “I need you to breathe for me, Bud.”

“I’ve never…I’ve never felt like this,” your chest heaves as you take in too short of breaths. “What are you doing?”

“Exploring you,” he presses an innocent kiss to your lips, “Learning you,” his motions are as slow as flowing honey. Working his drenched fingers in and out of you while he places open mouth kisses over your heated skin. Sucking and nipping over your body. Exploring every inch. His mouth travels lower, and he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Rolling his tongue around the pebbled peak before venturing to the over one.

He pulls off your body with a pop, and sinks lower. Lower. Grazing his lips over your belly button before trailing kisses on down. Ghosting over your panties before he stares at your body swallowing his fingers, and he presses the most gentle sweet kiss over your clit. “Every part of you is beautiful, Bud. Every inch of you is a work of art, and I can’t get enough.”

Men could say words like this frequently, but Ransom never did. He never went past sex with women. He was a player, and had long believed that love could ever happen to him. Until you. You changed everything. You made him not only believe love could happen, you showed him. You made him realize that football isn’t everything. You made him want more than the life he’d been living.

His tongue licks gently up your body. He moans at the taste of your honey. Smiling when you peer down at him, looking every bit as innocent as you are, “I just want to saturate you in pleasure,” he whispers before his lips circle around your swollen nub, and you mewl, lifting your back off the mattress.

His fingers drive into your heat in tandem with his mouth. Perfect rhythm that has your toes curling, and your body lifting off the mattress. The lyrics to Ransom are long gone, and all you can see is bright blinding light. The pleasure is nearly too much, and maybe if you were thinking about it, you’d know this man has had ample amounts of practice. But they didn’t matter anymore. his past is gone, and only his present remains. And that’s you.

All that matters now is Ransom humping the mattress with the same flow as his fingers and mouth. Desperately working himself up by your whimpers and movement. You grip tightly to your nipples, and roll them between your forefinger and thumb. So much stimulation that it makes you dizzy. It makes you yearn for more than his fingers. You want to become one with him. You want all of him. You need him.

You’ve never wanted anything more. You may be blinded by the pleasure that he pushes into your body, but you still know that the beautiful man making you feel this way is the man that you’ll marry, have children with, and spend the rest of your life with. Your career and his career be damned. You can take care of the two of you. You’re obsessed and you know it.

“Ransom!” His name leaks out of your mouth as fire courses through you. Everything inside of you is molten lava. So much heat. “Ran — Ransom!” You cannot help but scream out his name because you can’t think of anything else. Nothing else matters. Just Ransom. Just him.

Dropping your tits, you grip tightly to his hair. Tugging right at the roots as your body floats off the bed, and you clench your eyes closed. “Ransom!” Your mouth falls open as the most beautiful high ignites you, and your body heaves as you sit up, and stare at the devil between your thighs. Licking, and smacking his lips as he cleans you with his tongue.

“I need you inside of me,” reaching up, he rips apart your panties, and tosses them onto the floor before he rips his own off, and knees himself onto the bed. His wide berth keeps you spread, opening up wider to accommodate his size, and Ransom sinks lower to the bed. Hovering over your body, while he runs his cock through your velvety folds, and you gaze up at him.

“I need you inside of me now,” you plead, and he presses his length up against you. Gasping, you look between your bodies. The tiniest gap separates you, but you witness him right at your entrance. “Ran,” smirking, he pushes through your walls, and you bite on your lip. Whimpering. Tugging. Scratching. Pulling. Wrapping your legs around him.

He doesn’t stop his descent in you until he’s filled you to the brim with him, and you gaze up at him. It was right. That string has wrapped itself so tight around you and Ransom that you can’t even think straight. Can’t see. Nothing else in this world matters except Ransom. You’re glad you waited, but now you’re going to get to enjoy him in so many more ways.

He whispers your name as he kisses around your hairline. So soft and gentle as he makes his way around the perimeter, before he absorbs this moment. Tucking it into his mind on days that he’s going to have to be away from you. And remembering every bit of you. The slight arch, and furrowing of your brow as your cunt stretches to take all of him. The way he can feel your heartbeat pulsing deeply. Your scent, and how it flared to life when he entered you.

He has had doubts about love and soulmates for so long, but he can’t deny the way he feels as he’s seated inside of you. Everything becomes more clear right at this moment. This is the best he’s ever felt for various reasons. But the main one being how much he is utterly destroyed by you.

He could say it over and over again, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He could shout it, he could carve it into his skin, and it still wouldn’t be enough. This is what true love feels like. What he thought was never for him. It is. It’s all for him, right here in his arms. He doesn’t want to go fast. He barely wants to leave your warmth as he pumps into you. There will be other times he can rail you.

No, now, he just wants to take his time and memorize every part of your body. Wants to learn your spots, and the things that truly drive you insane. Know all your secrets that you keep hidden. He wants to integrate himself into your body, so when he’s not there you crave him. And he never ever wants to stop kissing you.

If he’s not swallowing your whimpers, he’s peppering kisses all across your shoulders. Over your collarbone, up your neck, but your favorite; behind your ear. Blowing heated breaths over your skin, and watching goosebumps flood over your body. You cling to him like your life depends on it, and he feels his life truly does depend on your touch. Addicting. You are his favorite drug, and he never wants to detox.

Drawing himself up and pulling all the way out, so he can see your sweet pitiful face. It’s like the pleasure has reached such a peak that you are wordless. Thankfully you’re still breathing, but the function to talk doesn’t seem to be there, “Bud, honey, you okay?”

You stare up at him, gulping, trying to get words to come out of your dry mouth, but it just comes out as a choked, “Uh huh,” gazing up at him like the work of art he is, and then something lights up in your body, and your brows tilt up.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you about to come?” There is no way this man is making you come going this slow. But you don’t want him to change his pace. You want him just. Like. This. “There you go. You think we can come together,” his voice is so soft and pretty as he kisses on the edges of your lips. “Hold on, for me?”

You nod your head, biting on your lip as he stabs into you. Vision going blurry with the faster speed, and your toes curl with the most blinding pleasure. His hips pound onto your body with so much force if he wasn’t holding you, your body would be bounced up the bed by his sheer force alone. Everything in your body tightens. Everything pulses.

And then you hear his own moans. Here the way he’s reacting to the pleasure, and it becomes so much sweeter. His athletic body and training gives him the best stamina. My god, do you thank him for his training. “Fuck,” he putters out, gritting his teeth as he barrels into you. “Fuck. Fuck Fuckfuckfuckfuck!”

“Ran, baby, just let go,” you coo softly at him, and his own brows pitch up, and you grip his round ass. “Ran! Ransom!”

“Don’t take your eyes off me. Keep looking at me,” that is a task as you hang on for dear life. Your body sets on fire as the impending high shoots to your limbs. All the way to your fingers and your toes. Your cunt squeezes him so tightly, he stops his movements. Just when you think he’s gone back on his goal of coming with you, his eyes blow wide, and he whimpers out your name.

He spurts his seed deep into your cunt, while you stare up at him. He looks so much younger after his release, and you want to curl yourself around him, and hold him tightly. He needs protection after making himself be that vulnerable. “I’ve never done that,” he breathlessly says. You are not sure which that he’s referring to, and you don’t know if you want to know.

”Unprotected sex. I mean I’ve…”

“Ransom, no,” you shake your head. You know the man is well seasoned, but you didn’t want to hear about it. “I don’t want to know.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

You take a deep breath, and brush his fallen hair out of his face. He needs protection from you in a different way. And you would. “Are you going to write songs about this?”

“I don’t know. Do you think it’ll be too invasive?”

“Can I have approval first?” Your mouth quirks to the side, and you give him a nod. “Then okay. I trust you. Now about filming us?”

“Well,” you giggle, he’s so beautiful, “We’re both on the road a lot. And I’d rather you not be watching porn, unless it’s us. I’m okay with phone sex, FaceTime, and stuff like that. But sometimes I may be in a completely different time zone.”

“So we’ll make our own porn,” he says with a smile. He begrudgingly pulls himself out of you, and lands flat on his back. “I can get used to that,” you could, too. Whatever it takes to keep you together.

Next

Masterlist

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