#dark!ransom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biteofcherry · 7 days ago

Text

Don't need your name to own you

dark fae!Ransom Drysdale x female reader

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

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

word count: 5.6k

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

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

If you were prepared, nothing would surprise you.

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

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

And you wanted to.

It tempted you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or was it just your own imagination?

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

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

And definitely not becoming someone’s interest.

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

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

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

That elegant veneer veiled a lethal doom.

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

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

A venus flytrap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to see who it was.

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

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

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

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

A dark fae!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt as if that touch grazed your clit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which you licked. And swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, was it moss?

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for the Master’s.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” came an unyielding reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toward your tight rim.

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

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

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

Not once did she touch him, however.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, your chest arched and you hissed in pleasure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master,” you breathed out a plea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without preamble, he thrust all three into you.

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

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

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

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

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

And then he pressed down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#scaretale universe #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark fae!ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #don't need to know your name to own you

333 notes · View notes

eccentricallygothic · 2 months ago

Text

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

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

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

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

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

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

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

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

Of course, he wants you to say it.

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

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

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

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

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

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does that when he is horny.

The realization makes your stomach twist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, hubby.”

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

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

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

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

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

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

241 notes · View notes

krirebr · 3 months ago

Text

Updated 9/19/24

Tag lists are open

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

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

🖤 Dark 🩶 Soft!Dark 😥 Angst 🥵 Smut

Trapped AU

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

Head Over Heels

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

I Know I Should Know Better series

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

Heads Will Roll series

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

Luck Be a Lady

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

Drabbles & Headcanons

Curtis + soft!dark + soothe 🖤

Curtis Takes the Snowpiercer 🖤🥵

Curtis + Possessive 🥵

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

Heads Will Roll series

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

Drabbles & Headcanons

Relax

A Merry Little Christmas

Killing Moon

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

Giving Me a Thrill

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

Psycho Killer AU

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

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

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

More Than This series

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

I'm Feeling Like I Never Should

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

Drabbles & Headcanons

Jealous Ex Ransom

Sequel 🥵

End

No Way of Knowing - More Than This What If 😥

What You Can Do For Your Country

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

Everybody Wants to Rule the World series

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

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

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

Drabbles & Headcanons

Arranged Marriage Steve Headcanon

Tell Me One Thing - More Than This What If 😥

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

We're All Monsters

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

#masterlist #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #curtis everett x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #jake jensen #ransom drysdale #jake jensen x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #johnny storm #johnny storm x reader

203 notes · View notes

boxofbonesfic · 7 months ago

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

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

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

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

Word Count: 3,776

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

It’s your wedding day, again.

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

I don’t want to get married.

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

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

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

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

My wife.

MY WIFE.

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

God, the party.

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

Tell him. Tell me what he says.

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

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

No one does.

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

You see… a beach.

An empty beach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunch in an hour.”

—

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

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

Fuck you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave me alone.”

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

Good for the baby.

Good for the fucking baby.

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

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

He doesn’t pick it up.

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

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

—

They don’t come back that night.

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

I wonder what Nat’s doing.

I wonder if they’re worried about me.

I wonder what Ransom told them.

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

When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

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

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

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

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

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

We made it for you.

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

It was more than a little crush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

You lay there until the room goes dark.

—

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

next chapter

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

383 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

Text

Three for One 1

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

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

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

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

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

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

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

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

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

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

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

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

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old is she?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it faster?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

“Next week,” the first man growls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

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

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

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

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

771 notes · View notes

hansensgirl · 10 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#sabs concepts #ransom drysdale #knives out #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!#smut #lemon #drabble #chris evans #request #sab’s dark concepts (2023)

707 notes · View notes

miserable-sarah · 2 years ago

Text

Sit

18+

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Warnings: Cocky Chris, (Dom)Chris, (Sub)R, unprotected sex, cock warming, talking down on you, dirty talk, daddy kink, nsfw

Summary: Chris back from a business trip and very frustrated.

***

“Hi baby!” You yell running up to Chris, you wrap your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist. You give a welcome home kiss, you pull away smiling. He was not.

“Hey” he says putting you back on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” You ask concerned usually he’s all over you when he gets home.

“Nothing” he mumbles grabbing a beer from the fridge. Maybe he just had a rough flight. He walk out the back door to the back yard. You stand in the kitchen unsure what to do. Usually when he’s mad he likes to be alone to work through he’s feelings but he just got back from a 5 day trip he should be all over you. You take a deep breath and put on a tough face. You walk outside.

“Hey” you say louder than you intended. He looks over at you eyebrows raised “uh” you shift uncomfortably “what’s wrong? You’ve been gone for 5 days and then you come hom-“ he cuts you off

“Not right now Y/n” you hesitate to say anything, Chris isn’t scary or abusive in anyway it’s just he’s usually not like this and you don’t want to push him.

“Yes right now” you cross your arms standing your ground. Chris gives you a ‘oh really look’ he moves in his chair so he’s sitting straight up.

“No Y/n not right now” his leg is draped over the chair keeping himself wide open. You bite you lip quickly.

“Why?” You try to keep your mind straight. Chris leans back in his chair and sips his beer. “Why?” You repeat yourself, he still doesn’t answer. He’s ignoring you, he knows how bad that pisses you off. You always tell him it’s one of the worst things he could do. “Are you seriously ignoring me right now?” He just flicks his eyebrow and takes another swig. You scoff and shake your head. You walk back in the house pacing back and forth. What the hell is wrong with him? Ignoring me? He’s been gone for 5 days 5 whole days. You just wanted some love and attention. You walk back outside.

“Why are you ignoring me. I just wanted some attention you’ve been gone for a long time then you come back looking good as ever and you toss me away like garbage.”

“Sit” he says stern not even looking at you.

“What?” You ask confused

“Sit.” He says more stern and hot as ever, he pats his thigh. You feel your knees getting weak and a familiar wetness creeping. You take a second before walking over to his chair. He looks up at you, you put your leg over his and straddle him. He gets inches close to you, you feel his warm breath on your face. Your breathing is shaky. “I said not right now.” Your whole body is confused, you're mad but so turned on you just want him right now. You go to get off him but he grabs your hips hard and forces you to sit on him.

"You just want me to sit here?" You ask, he just looks at you. "And you're going to ignore me?" You ask louder. You try to squirm but he won't let you loose. "Chris really" you sigh, he looks at you and pulls your dress up letting it settle on your hips. You don't say anything you just let him do what he wants. He slowly slides his hand down to your lacy thong just rubbing slow circles on the fabric. You bite your lip trying to hide any moans or demands you want to scream out. He slowly slips your panties to the side. You let out a little whimper, he tapped on your clit making you shiver.

"Unbuckle my belt" He says quietly, you do as he says. You undo his belt and hand it to him. “Good girl” he praises he grabs your arms “ behind your back baby” he says sweetly but there’s a stern dominance in his tone. You put your hands behind your back and he ties his belt around your wrists. “Go ahead grind on me” he puts his arms behind his head. You let out a shaker breath and start grinding on him, the friction of his jeans rubbing against you just right makes you let out a moan. “That’s good” he encourages you, you move a little faster. You can feel your slick getting on his jeans, you know he loves it just as much as you do.

“Are you going to” you pause letting out a little moan “are you going to fuck me daddy?” You ask licking your lips.

“Not yet. You don’t know how to listen.” He shakes his head giving you a disappointed look. You throw your head back with groan, you should’ve listened to him and left him alone but you just had to stand your ground. “Lean back” you do and he brings his hand to your clit rubbing it fast.

“Oh” you moan loudly he sticks a finger in thrusting it at a good pace “please I’m sorry” you try to beg. His other hand open his fly and brings out his hard huge cock. “Fuck” you moan just at the sight of him. He chuckles at you and your desperation. Chris removes his fingers.

“Sit on it” he smirks at you. You waste no time, you hover him and start to slowly sink down, he grabs your hips and slams you down on him. You let out a loud moan and so does he. You try to move but he holds you there. Still.

“It’s okay baby I can move” he laughs at you. Your eyebrows furrow confused

“No honey you’re not moving” he says in a mocking tone. “You’re going to sit here and keep my cock warm since you want to be so needy and not listen to what I say” you groan in frustration “no complaining, no moving, no talking or you won’t cum tonight understand?” He asks you throw your head back “understand!?” He says louder

“Yes daddy” you say defeated. Chris goes on his phone placing bets on a game. You sit there thinking about just moving up and down, he couldn’t resist you. Or maybe he could. You close your eyes trying to control yourself. You think about talking dirty to him, telling him his thick cock filling you up feels so good, and how much you’ve missed him and the way he makes you feel. You open your mouth but don’t say anything like a good girl. Chris moves his hips causing him to move a little deeper. You close your eyes tightly and bite your lip. Fuck this going to be hard. He’s going to tease you the whole time. You open your eyes and look at him. His perfect face, his amazingly good jaw line just asking for kisses, his perfect plumb lips looking the same. His large hands makes you more wet, his chest isn’t bare but his shirt is tight enough to show his muscles. God he was perfect and making you so horny that you just want to move and get fucked. Or at least just lay on him and cuddle, but mostly get fucked.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks smirking putting his phone down. You hesitate on answering not knowing if you should. “I told you no moving and you were just moving”

“I-I didn’t mean to. Promise”

“Don’t do it again. I mean it” he goes back on his phone placing his stupid bets. You patience running thin. He moves again making you whimper very quietly. You pray he didn’t hear you.

After sitting there for about a half hour you lean forward, your body was losing balance since he tied your hands behind your back. You lay on his chest and look up at him.

“Tired baby?” He asks making fun of you. You nod your head. His arms wrap around you and hold you to his chest. “Daddy’s almost done. You’re doing good” he kisses your head. You smile feeling good. He thrusts into you randomly, you let out a moan. “Was that a moan?” You shake your head no quickly “now your lying?” He tsks at you “well that’s what bad girls do” he repositions you, you bite your lip so hard you think you’re drawing blood. He picks you up and walks you inside you keep your mouth shut the entire time. He lays you on the couch. “I said no moving, no talking, no noises.”

“I didn’t mean to” you plead “you moved and you know”

“I really don’t want to punish you, but you broke the rules” he says picking you up standing you in front of him. He sits on the couch spreading his legs so you can get in between them. He unbuttons his pants and slips them off. “Knees” you fall on your knees and get in front of him. He pushes your hair out of your face and guides you down to his cock. You start sucking on the tip slowly.

“No teasing bullshit you’re already in enough trouble” his hand pumps what your mouth can’t reach, you take as much as you can as possible. You lick and suck on him like your life depends on it because right now it feels like it does. You hear Chris’ groans which turns you on even more. He reaches over and unties your hands. You pump him and suck, his hand grabs a fistful of your hair and shoves you down on his cock. You choke but stay put not fighting him. You can feel spit falling down your chin, he loves when you look this sloppy, this desperate. He lets you go and take deep breath’s looking at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re doing so good chocking on my cock just how I like” he praises moving hair out of your face once again. He looks at how swollen your lips are, how red your cheeks are, how your chin is covered in spit. “My needy dumb baby” he coos. You go back to bobbing your head back and forth working up the courage to take him all again. You moan just listening to his. You push your head down taking him all again. “God look at you, taking all of me. Just like you should.” You can feel tears rolling down your cheeks but you don’t stop. He yanks on your hair pulling up then pushing you back down. He lets out a loud moan before pulling you back up. You wipe your chin, he stands you up and so does he. He smashes his lips on yours, you kiss back sloppy. Just wanting all of him.

“I need you” you whine. He chuckles and lays you down on the couch. “Please daddy” you beg “please fuck me” he crawls on top of you, his fingers go straight to your clit rubbing it making you squirm. “Please no teasing” he kisses your neck sucking on the spots he knows you like. He moves his lips right to your ear

“I’m supposed to punish you. You were a bad girl. Too needy. Too dumb to stay still for daddy” he whispers you can feel tears in your eyes, you want him so bad.

“Daddy, I’m sorry so sorry. Please I need you” you say meaning and groaning. Chris looks at you studying your face. He kisses your lips sweetly.

“Fine.” He says you feel so relieved you smile.

“Thank you daddy I’ll be good I promise.” He positions himself in front of you and slips the tip in.

“You’re soaking wet for me huh?” You bite your lip and nod waiting for him to go in fully. “How bad do you want me?”

“So bad, I need you. I need you to fuck me so good I can’t remember my name” he smirks at you and thrusts into you. He goes almost all the way out and right back in bottoming out in you, it feels so good you could scream. He keeps hard thrusting into you making your back arch.

“Feel good? Look at you falling apart on my cock.” His eyes never leave yours “taking my cock so well.” He says through his teeth. You close your eyes tight letting out loud moans. You feel your body heating up, you know you’re not gonna last long. It’s all because of the waiting.

“Close already?” He teases “my dumb baby so pathetic can’t even last a minute when I have my cock buried in her” you moan even more listening to his words.

“Daddy I-“ you try to say but can’t “I”

“Go ahead cum all over my cock” you do as said and cum hard your legs start shaking, your eyes roll in the back of your head you see stars. You scream his name loudly. When you come down from your high you realize Chris never slowed down for a second. He’s still pounding you, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps squirming. Chris rubs your clit making you squirm more.

“Chris please” you beg not even sure what your begging for. It’s a lot of pleasure you don’t know how to react. Chris pins you down with his body trying to keep you still. “Oh my god!” You moan out

“Fuck” he groans. He stops everything and pulls out. He stands up and lifts you up throwing you over his shoulder taking you up stairs. You lay there lifeless enjoying the break. He throws you on the bed and you get into position, hands and knees. He comes behind you, he brings his hand down slapping your ass then rubbing it. He slaps you again making you jump and whimper. He lines himself and slips in you. He holds onto your hips and pounds into you over and over again. You bite the sheet trying to muffle your moans it’s not working though. He pulls your hair bending your head back.

“I love fucking this pussy. You fit me so well.” He groans, you can’t form words or even speak. You feel another tightness coming on. Chris leans on you whispering dirty things in your ear. Saying how much you’re made for him, how you’re just his dumb little baby, how your pussy was made for him, how dumb you are that you can’t even make words. Chuckling at you making fun of you and you love every word and every second.

“I” you start to say but can’t finish. Your brain won’t work, your drooling, your legs are shaking, you’re face down in the bed barely able to keep your body up. He’s holding your hips up. You moan loudly your legs shaking, your vision goes black, you can’t hear anything. You are in complete and total pleasure, you’re pretty sure your screaming bug you can’t tell.

“Good girl” he says kissing your back. Chris thrusts a few more times before getting sloppy. “You want me to fill you up? Fill this pussy up?” You nod your head yes. “Say it”

You try to gather yourself enough to say something but only moans and whimpers come out. He slaps your ass a few times.

“Please daddy” you say breathless “cum in me” you groan. He kisses your back again, his thrusts even more sloppy, his moans and groans still getting to you. He pulls out and flips you over, he sets your legs on top of his shoulders and slams into you again.

“I want to look at you when I cum” he explains. You throw your head back enjoying the new position. “Look at me” he says to you tapping your face. You look him in the eyes biting your lip.

“Cum daddy, make me feel full” he kisses your neck biting on it.

“Fuck” he groans “you feel so good around me” he nibbles at your ear. He at you and kisses you softly. You can feel yourself filling with warm cum. You sigh at the feeling.

“I love you” you whisper. Chris pulls out and flops on the bed next to you. “I love you too” he says catching his breath. You move over laying on his chest.

“I missed you” you say breathlessly

“I know I could tell” he chuckles pulling you closer.

“I’m serious” you laugh. “And you were mean” you pout at him.

“I know I’m sorry” he sighs

“What was the problem?”

“Honestly?” He looks at you “I missed you the whole time and had a terrible trip all I wanted when I came through the door and saw you in that dress was pound the fuck out of you” you look at him confused “I just pretended to be mad”

“Chris” you say hitting his chest laughing “you could’ve just had sex with me”

“I wanted it to be fun” he wiggles his eyebrows. You shake your head and give him a kiss. “Alright I’ll get up and get you cleaned up. Tomorrow it’s stay in bed all day and do whatever daddy says day” he winks at you. You smile and nod agreeing.

#dark chris evans #chris evans smut #Chris evans #chris evans x reader #lloyd hansen #andy barber smut #Andy barber #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ari levinson #ari Levinson smut

7K notes · View notes

lambtotheslaughterr · 5 months ago

Text

with Rise nearly finished, prepare yourselves for Part Two of the ‘The Day The World Ended’ universe

☠️☠️☠️

COMING SOON

Currently in the middle of writing the Lloyd Hansen mini series The Agenda Today, & will soon be posting another Rafe Camerin mini series When The Bough Breaks. That being said though, I always have a constantly evolving WiP list. So, without further ado, here is a glimpse at a Universe series I will begin posting once TAT & WTBB finish.

Let me know what you think!

[ALL OF THE FOLLOWING WILL INCLUDE THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. 18+. READ AT YOUR DISCRETION. MDNFI.]

THE DAY THE WORLD ENDED : AN APOCALYPTIC UNIVERSE

featuring Rafe Cameron, Ransom Drysdale, & Billy Russo

PART ONE : THE BEGINNING w/ Rafe Cameron

1.] RISE - Having finished her third year of college, reader & her friends are excited for an early summer camping trip deep in the woods. However, little do they know, the world they left will never again be the world they return to...

PART TWO : THE MIDST w/ Ransome Drysdale

2.] SUMMIT - Having been raised under a doomsday prepper her whole life, reader is fit for a vastly disintegrated world. It's been a year since the last time she saw another human, & the next one that crosses her path will test her survival skills...

PART THREE : THE CLOSING w/ Billy Russo

3.] FALL - Five years since the world ended. Five years since reader has become the reluctant leader of survivors in the city. Five years, mostly everything has run smoothly. That is until an opposing force wants to take over the world reader has built so carefully...

This is going to be my first Universe wide series. I imagine each part will be 10-20 chapters. There is not set release date until I finish my current Lloyd Hansen & Rafe Cameron mini series.

Until then, talk to me. Are you looking forward to the apocalyptic universe? Which part are most intrigued by? I want to know.

oona<3

#dark!fic #dark!fanfiction #dark!fiction #non con fiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!ransom #the day the world ended universe

49 notes · View notes

trinittyy · 1 year ago

Text

fic recs

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

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

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

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

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

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

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

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

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

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

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

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

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

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

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

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

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

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

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

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

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

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

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

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

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

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

823 notes · View notes

lanabuckybarnes · 3 months ago

Text

| Pay Up |

18+ MINORS DNI

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

✧Pairing ✧ Lloyd Hansen x Reader x Ransom Drysdale

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

✧Word Count✧ 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow feisty” he laughed and you scoffed.

“Leave me alone Lloyd.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No” he spat “just having a look.”

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

“Oh piss off Ransom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

Thanks for reading~

128 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 2 months ago

Text

Self-help group for killers masterlist

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

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

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

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

SHG for killers (1) - The first meeting

SHG for killers (2) - Lloyd Hansen

SHG for killers (3) - Steve Kemp

SHG for killers (4) - Andy Barber

SHG for killers (5) - Ransom Drysdale

SHG for killers (6) - Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy)

SHG for killers (7) - God, the bounty hunter

SHG for killers (8) - Between heaven and hell

#Self-help group for killers #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #robert pronge #andy barber #god the bounty hunter #steve kemp #dark!fic #smut #cevans chars #sebstan chars

75 notes · View notes

imyourbratzdoll · 2 years ago

Text

𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

1K notes · View notes

krirebr · 1 year ago

Text

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

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

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

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grandkid,” you interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that I saw.”

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

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

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

She nodded and left.

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

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

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

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

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

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

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged and shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I don’t?”

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

“No, no, please,” you begged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

624 notes · View notes

boxofbonesfic · 1 year ago

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]

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

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

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

Word Count: 3,761

A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—

But he has.

Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse.

“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf.

“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.

“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine.

He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—

Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?

He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already mastered. Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin.

“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit.

“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat.

“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—

You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean.

“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins.

“Feels good not to have to pretend.”

“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them.

“Let me—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”

The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand. You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party.

The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand.

“Sweetheart?”

You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision.

“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”

“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify.

Ransom stares at you confusedly.

“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from.

“Tell me something about the fountain.”

“The what?”

“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”

“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.”

This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing.

“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”

Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat.

Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.

Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly.

“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open.

“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine.

“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head.

“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace.

“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”

You nod wordlessly.

Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water.

You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin.

“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder.

“W-what?”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see.

“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink.

“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”

“I think before New Years, last year.”

“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief.

You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening.

Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild.

“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.

“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”

“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you.

“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things.

“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.”

“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”

“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”

“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door.

It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.”

You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse.

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”

“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment.

“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”

You slap him.

The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth.

“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight.

This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—

You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek.

“Just let me go, Ransom—”

“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.”

“You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears.

“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly.

“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern.

“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”

“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers.

“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”

Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair.

“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—”

“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater.

Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

to be continued…

next chapter

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

908 notes · View notes