#dark!ransom drysdale

[planetallure]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@perlelune

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Warnings: non/dubcon, titty fucking, nipple clamps, butt plug, allusions to abuse, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You're a good girl for Christmas.

Character: Ransom Drysdale

Day Two of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - you have to behave if you want your present.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The pinch makes you hiss as you repress the squeak in your throat. The metal bites into your breast, latched onto your tender bud. Ransom opens the other and clamps it into place and you blow out another willowy breath. 

"Now, you gonna be a good girl for me?" He steps back and puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head as he takes in your naked figure. 

"Yes, sir." You murmur as you twiddle your finger, itching to tear off the nipple clamps. 

"Hmm, just to be safe," he turns and goes to the night stand. "Bend over for me, baby, let me see the peach." 

You suppress the ripple of humiliation and turn your back to him. You put your head down and stare at your pedicure. You bend and extend your fingertips to the floor to balance yourself. 

He approaches you and slaps your ass. You expect that, he can never keep his hands to himself, yet the sting makes you gasp. He digs his nails in and growls. 

"Goddamn, almost wanna skip dinner and stay home and eat dessert," he purrs and carresses your hot flesh. He gets close to your crack and tuts, "mm, good job, baby." 

You close your eyes as another tide of shame crests. The day before you spent making sure you were perfect. From head to toe. No hair, no blemishes, nothing. Masks, wax, tweezers, lotions, balms... it's all too much yet for the Thrombey heir, there's never enough. 

The cap of the bottle clicks and a coolness dribbles down your crack. He follows the trickle with his thick finger and smears it around your puckered hole. You contract against his touch and he chuckles. 

He backs away and returns to the drawer. You listen to his footsteps, so familiar with the noise of his movement that you know exactly where he is without looking. He comes back to you, another strike across your ass. You tighten again. 

He hums and slips something hard and smooth between your cheeks. He wiggles the tip along your ring and you suck in a chestful of air. You brace yourself for the intrusion. 

"You don't loosen up, and you're going to be crying at the table," he chortles and pushes the tip into you. 

You try to ease your muscles but it only makes you tense. The clamps, the plug, the thought of sitting through the family dinner, it's all a bit much. He dip the silicon into you until you're stretched to your limit. The lube slightly soothes even as the hot pain pulses. 

You close around the stem and let out a thigh. He rubs the bejeweled end of the plug and wiggles it until you whine. He lets his fingers wander down and tickles your lips, delving between to feel the wet betrayal of your body. 

"You have to behave if you want your present," he prods your entrance, "you get me, baby girl?" 

"Yes, sir," you answer. 

He pushes as if he might go further then thinks better of it. He pulls away and drones. He turns and struts away as you open your eyes and watch his lazy steps around your legs. 

"Stand up, get dressed," he commands as he spins and flops on the bed. "My mom will kill me if I'm late again." 

🎁

"Your grandfather says your imprint is looking for new writers. Still," Linda interrogates Ransom as he curls his fingers into your hip. He keeps you close, almost like a shield as he navigates the room of his relatives. He's as tense as if they were strangers, as they are to you. "How much time have you been spending with this... girlfriend?" She eyes you up and down. "You should be focused on work." 

He digs his nails into you, through the red satin of the dress he chose for you. 

"Imprints making a profit, even if we do need some authors," Ransom argues. "You can ask grandfather about our last budget report. You know he goes on about numbers, but he's always so hung up on the names." 

"Well, you wouldn't have much to publish without writers," Linda reprimands. 

He pinches the fabric as his frustration locks up his grip. He tugs at the satin and it brushes against your chest, the clamps you try not to think of even as they bite into you. You're certain everyone's noticed the pertness made obvious by your braless states. Anther of Ransom's demands. No bra, no panties. It's like he wants you to take the attention away from him. You almost can't blame him despite your embarrassment. 

“If grandfather thinks I’m not doing my job, we both know he’ll get rid of me,” Ransom huffs. “Merry Christmas to you too, mom.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean, just realistic.” She shoots you another sharp look. “You can’t be wasting your time on woman you mean to do nothing with.” 

You bristle. You’re not one for confrontation, you think that might be why Ransom keeps you around, but you’re irked to be spoken of as if you are some lifeless doll without an ounce of free will. Maybe that is what you are. Maybe that’s what he’s made you. 

“You know nothing about my intentions,” Ransom sneers. “I’m going to find my dad.” 

“Good luck,” she scoffs. “Oh, and sweetie,” she steps closer and pulls your dress strap across your shoulder before it can fall, “it’s much too cold for satin.” 

Ransom unhooks his arm from around you and takes your hand instead. He grumbles and tugs you away from his mother as she puts her lips to her crystal glass of mulled cider. You’re all too happy to get away from her. 

“Fuck it,” he growls under his breath. 

You expect him to guide you towards the cluster of figures awash in the rustic glow of the fireplace. Instead, he sidles you through the archway to your left and past the wide-mouthed staircase. He snakes around the banister and ushers you into a door just behind. 

He lets you go with another sigh. He shuts the door and leans against it. You stand patiently, shifting your weight on the pencil thin heels. He tilts his head back as he closes his eyes. 

You know better than to break the silence. He takes a deep breath as his nostrils flare and he lets it out slowly. He sets his head straight and flicks his lashes open. His eyes creep up and down your body. He smirks. 

“Baby, you’ve been so good to me, haven’t you?” He drawls. “Look at you, so sweet for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” you push your hands behind you and clasp them tight. 

“God, you’re such a slut,” he pushes away from the door and comes close. “Look at you,” he covers your tits with his hands and kneads, causing the clamps to pinch harder. You whimper and teeter on your toes. “Walking around like this. Everyone can see you, you know? They see what’s mine and they know better than to touch it.” 

He tweaks the clamps and you whine. You pout as you look down as he trails his touch down your stomach. He steps flush to you and loops his arm around you. He pushes against the satin and forces it between your cheeks until he touches the hard jewel of the plug. 

“Fuck,” he grits as the plug twitches as you clench. “You are so fucking dirty.” 

You bring your hands to his biceps, resting them lightly on his bulging sleeves, and force a purr from your throat. You don’t like it but he does. He loves to talk to you like that even though he’s the only one. The first one. 

“Do you want your present now, baby?” He asks. 

You bat your lashes and nod. You won’t deny him anything. Just the thought inspires the vision of spit flying and eyes blazing, the angry roar of his displeasure, the fiery lash of his palm. 

“Alright, baby, you gotta get on your knees,” he says. “And beg me for it.” 

You hesitate, for a split second, and pray it isn’t long enough for him to notice. You drag your hands down his arms as you lower yourself to one knee then angle the other under you. You drop your hands to your thighs and look up at him. 

“Please, sir, may I have my present now?” You ask politely. 

“Hm, why should you get that?” He challenges. 

“Because sir, I’ve been a good girl for you,” you say. 

He grins and grips his hips, poking his tongue out devilishly. “And how have you been a good girl?” 

“Sir, my hole is plugged just like you want it and my nipples are swollen and tender for you.” 

He snickers and hums. “Fuck, but you’re a bad girl, aren’t you? You got me hard and hurting.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say. 

“Baby, you know what else makes you a bad girl?” You shake your head as he watches you with a menacing gleam. “You’re not naked for me.” 

You swiftly grab the straps of your dress and pull them down your shoulders and arms. You free your wrists and shimmy the satin down past your waist until it pools around your knees. You stare up at him, completely exposed. 

“Fuck, I love those tits,” he slither. “Baby, you can have your present,” he looks down and pushes his pelvis out. His pants tent around his arousal. “Go ahead and unwrap it.” 

You obey. You unbuckle his belt and daintily unbutton his fly. He squirms and groans as you brush the front of his pants with your hands and as you undo his zipper, he shudders. 

You roll his pants down his thighs, then his boxers. You angle his tip past the elastic and he stands rigid above, bobbing just slightly. You look at it, almost crossed-eyed. 

You don’t weight for his command. You grab onto him and pump him. He groans but leans away from you. He tisks. 

“No, no,” he says. “Push your tits together.” 

You gently cup your tits and swallow a moan at the tenderness pinpointed in your nipples. You crush them together so they bulge as he moves around. He drags a chair around and sits in front of you. He grabs your head and urges you closer. 

He beckons you with his other hand, flicking two fingers. You walk on your knees until you’re between him. He pushes his tip down then aims it up between your cleavage until he pops up above the swell of your chest. 

His swollen head hits your chin and he laughs again. He clutches your hair in his fist and forces you to bend your neck. As he thrusts again, he taps your lips. You know what he wants without him saying it.  

You open your lips and take him in. He groans and he shoves you down his length, halfway until you meet the top of your tits. He pulls you back so you pop off then rams you down again. He does it again and again. Pushing you onto his dick then drag you off just as quickly. 

As your lips part, saliva drips out and strings between your mouth and his glistening head. You puff out shallow breaths as he uses you like a toy. He curves his hand under your chin and slides to the edge of the chair. 

“Look at me, baby,” he demands. 

Your eyes flick up as he invades your mouth again. He smirks as he shoves you down then lifts you up again. The noise of your mouth sucking then popping off fills the space beneath his sultry groans. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he rasps and holds you down on him. “I’m about to fill you all up with your present, you ready?” 

He keeps your head still, pumping his hips instead. The friction between your tits and the wetness of your mouth riles him. You taste the saltiness mingling with your spit. You know, even before he grunts that he’s there. 

He spills into you, fucking through his climax as he whines in relief. You gulp him down and purr in faux delight. You don’t have to be happy, you just have to pretend enough to keep him nice. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

in the sugar and spice universe, the boys know that she cams and i assume that she’s aware that her roommates watch, but does she know about ransom watching?

a/n: i. am. gnawing. at. my. cage.

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

we’ve already established that his discovery of your little hobby was what ended your relationship. i imagine that he fell over your stream while just browsing for something to jerk off to and then BOOM, there you were. 

in true asshole fashion, he of course confronted you about it in a big ol fight:

“choose. come on. me or that.”

“ransom,” you sighed as he kept on pushing.

“come on,” he roared, “just pick goddamn it!”

“that!” you blurted as he kept on yelling, “i wanna keep camming!” though that statement hadn’t been what he’d predicted, “it makes me happy and you–…”

“…i don’t?”

“not lately…”

“well how else would you think i’d react to finding out my girl has secretly been whoring herself out to anyone with an internet connection?”

the slap you then crack against his cheek echoed throughout the whole room, “fuck you,” you spat, “don’t ever talk to me, don’t even look at me, ever again.”

and then you tried to stay as far away from him as possible even though i think he would have kept trying to worm his way back into your good graces (because he obviously fucked up)

you also moved in with steve, bucky and curtis after the breakup and i imagine they began to act as your bodyguards when it came to your ex. keeping an eye out and helping you avoid him at all costs. 

but the thing is, from the moment that he first discovered your stream, and honestly also as a way to lick his wounds post-breakup, he kept going back to it, kept opening up the website till it was permanently open on his phone, always ready for when you went live or posted something (a pic or vid or just flirty message)

it was like an addiction and he couldn’t stop

he wasn’t even ashamed about it because to him it was a way to keep your faded relationship alive, keep you with him and for a generous tip (which he could more than afford as the trust fund kid he was) you’d still do as he wished, still follow his sinful commands.

turn around, let me see that ass

be a good girl and turn up the speed

send me those panties after you’ve soaked them with your cream, i’ll pay double your usual rate for the underwear you sell.

did you know that TittyCokeKingXXX, one of your most loyal followers and top tippers, was your ex? hell no.

how would you finally discover his true identity? maybe it would be at a party you’re both at, a celebration after the football team’s latest victory (of which both your roomies steve and bucky are on, but unfortunately so is ransom) 

he probably gets too drunk and then the truth starts slipping out

maybe he thinks he still has a shot, but just as you turn him down, he gets petty and accidentally blurts out, “well you didn’t seem to have a problem with me last night when you were calling me sir and making yourself squirt in the shower.” 

the image of you crumbled on the tile floor, shower head blasting in your hand as you ripped it away from your overstimulated clit was still seared into his brain. tits all soapy, yet he could still make out the faint letters of the possessive scrawling he'd paid you to scribble with marker the week before reading daddy’s girl

“…how do you know that?” you uttered and he suddenly realised that he’d actually said those words out loud and not just thought them as usual, “ransom, how the fuck do you know that?”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[krirebr]

Updated 2/21/25

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 ⭐️New/Updated

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? 🩶🥵

Still Life series

Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad... 😥⭐️

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

All Things Go series

It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine! 😥⭐️

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 🖤😥🥵

[trinittyy]

fic recs

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

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

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

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

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

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

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

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

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

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

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

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

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

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

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

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

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

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

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

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

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

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

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

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

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Summit : Chapter Seven

A Ransom Drysdale Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER SIX | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER EIGHT

            The following morning came when you wished it hadn’t. You woke to the sound of the floor creaking outside your door & you threw off your blankets in a panic. Swinging open your bedroom door, you poked your head out & caught Ransom at the top of the stairs, his back to you. Having heard your door & heavy breathing, Ransom paused to look back at you.

            “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” He offered an apologetic smile.

            You frowned when you noted the few bags he held in his hands. Was he going to leave without telling you?

            In a fit of mild frustration, you began signing at him, walking slowly towards him.

            Ransom’s eyes flicked rapidly as he followed the movement of your hands. But you didn’t slow down to translate. You couldn’t believe he would sneak out from under you without saying goodbye.

            As you got within reaching distance, he finally dropped his bags & reached for you, his hands catching your swinging wrists. Your chest was heaving & you felt your eyes watering as he forced you to calm down.

            “I don’t understand a damn thing you’re saying but I know when I’ve pissed off a woman.” He joked, but this was no laughing matter.

            You attempted to break from his hold but his grip was strong, almost bruising.

            “I wasn’t going to leave you without saying anything.” He gazed into your eyes, his own softening, “I promise. I was letting you sleep a bit longer.”

            You weren’t sure if you believed him, but his words did have a small impact on your mood. You sniffed, shaking your head, still attempting to sign but his strength kept you from properly doing so.

            “_____,” he moved his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks, “I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

            As he gazed into your eyes, you felt your care for him skyrocket. Closing the distance, you wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. Ransom sighed into the hug, his arms wrapping securely around your body. You blinked away the tears that threatened to fall & rested your head on his shoulder. One of his hands ran along the back of your head, comforting you.

            Finally, after a moment, you pulled away but he didn’t let you go just yet.

            The two of you stared at one another in silence. Ransom gave a small, sad smile as he peered at you. Again, he cupped your cheek & you leant your face into it, appreciating the warmth & affection.

            “C’mon.” He finally said, his hand falling to your own as he led you down the stairs.

            Having gathered his fallen bags, he dropped them again at the bottom of the stairs before leading the way towards the kitchen. In there, you noticed a plethora amount of candles, lighters, & gathered fruits & vegetables from the garden.

            “I already got you set up for the next two days. Generator isn’t going to work so this’ll be all you have.” He said as he walked around the island. “If you can, avoid lighting the candles at night. I know this place can get pretty dark but I don’t want anyone drawn to the house if they see light.”

            You knew how worried he sounded based on his tone alone, but you didn’t share the same concern. Since you’d been staying with Ransom, you had yet to see another human being. The chances were slim to none, but you would do as he asked.

            “Curtains are heavy in every room, in case you need to shield any candlelight you’ll need from outside eyes. I already gathered food as you see so you won’t have to do that this morning or tomorrow. Just gotta water when it cools down later.”

            You nodded along as he continued giving you instructions. It was quite cute, you thought, how he looking out for you. It had been a long time since someone had your back. It was a feeling you missed greatly.

            By the time Ransom finished giving his rundown, you eyed him readily.

            You followed him to the front door & he opened it, throwing his bags out onto the porch. You saw over his shoulder a truck parked a few yards away. He turned to face you then, closing the distance.

            For a third time, Ransom leaned down & pressed his lips to yours. You found yourself actively returning it. Now that it was happening, Ransom leaving, you wanted nothing more than to hang onto him & never let him leave. Or, if anything, sneak into the bed of the truck & go with him. But you knew it was a better plan for you to stay. For once, you would listen to him.

            “I’ll be back tomorrow night should all things go well.” He said, his breath fanning your face. You rested your forehead against his, nodding along as he spoke.

            “Stay inside as much as you can. Read that book. I’ll be back before you know it.”

            With that, Ransom kissed your forehead before parting from you. You stood in the doorway, watching as he gathered his bags & walked towards the truck. He threw the bags into the bed of the truck before rounding to the driver’s side. But before he got in, he caught your eyes. Raising his hand, he had his ring finger & middle finger curled in, but his pinkie, pointer, & thumb extended.

            ‘I love you’.

            You felt your lips part in disbelief.

            “Saw it in a movie once.” He joked from far away. “Go inside.”

            But you didn’t, still in shock & awe at his proclamation. You did not return the sign but felt your heart thumping. Ransom hopped into the truck, & after a few failed attempts of starting the engine, it finally roared to life. He waved at you through the dashboard window before driving down the driveway & out of sight.

            Leaning against the frame of the door, your thoughts ran rampant.

            Love? You bit your lip, he loved…you?

            You knew about love. You loved your mother, your father, the farm you grew up on. But love love, romantic love? You knew nothing of it. But as your heart continued thrumming & your breath came fast, you wondered if that’s what those sensations were.

            Perhaps you too loved Ransom.

            The first day without Ransom dragged on. You felt lonelier in those first couple hours than you had the whole year previously when you traveled alone. Ransom’s family estate felt cold & lifeless without his presence there to bring it excitement & energy. For the first time since the virus happened, you felt…bored. Nothing appealed to you, not even reading. You found yourself lounging in the library, trying to force your eyes to read the words of the book he suggested to you but you could not focus. Your thoughts remained on Ransom.

            He never did tell you exactly where his uncle’s vacation home was so you wouldn’t even be able to pinpoint a rough location of where he’d be on the map. You were forced to sit in silence for hours as you thought about him traveling alone. Part of you was beginning to regret not fighting for you to go with him more. Ransom had never traveled by himself, not properly like you. It would have been beneficial for him for you to come. You knew the world out there, he didn’t.

            But there was nothing you could do now except wait, though waiting felt awfully long. It would only be two days, but already the first couple hours felt like weeks. You had to distract yourself. Leaving the book in the library, you went into the kitchen & grabbed a peach & cut it into slices before placing them into a bowl. Taking the bowl of peaches with you, you headed for the stairs.

            You had never explored Ransom’s family estate to it’s entirety. Perhaps exploring rooms you had yet to would fair well as a distraction. Most of the rooms on the second floor proved uninteresting. There was little memorabilia, which in hindsight you found odd that there were no family photos anywhere or personal items, but from what little you knew about Ransom’s family, they were not the sentimental type.

            Back in the hallway, you were approaching the last door you had yet to go through at the end of the hallway. Opening it, you expected to see either another bedroom or small bathroom, but you were surprised when what greeted you was a set of narrow stairs. Pausing in the doorway, you peered up the stairs but they curved half-way up, giving no clue as to what would be at the top.

            Hesitantly, you took the first step trying to see to the top but nothing yet. What were you so worried about? It was an attic. There would be no boogeyman. You had faced scarier obstacles. Swallowing your reluctance, you climbed the rest of the stairs & were relieved by what you came across. It was fairly lit room, thanks to the two windows in the small space. As you peered around, it looked as if it was once a playroom. There was two cushioned chairs, a coffee table, & a few small bookcases. On one of the bookcases was a number of game boards. That made you smile.

            Placing your bowl of peaches on the coffee table, you crouched to your knees to eye the plethora of games before you. You wondered if Ransom just never thought to come up there. The two of you could have passed the time better had you played a number of these games. You pulled out a dust-covered decades old version of The Game of Life.

            Popping off the lid, you peered at the game pieces inside. They were certainly old but still in decent shape. You fingered a few of the game pieces, recalling your days on the farm. Game nights were a regular thing with your parents. Your mother’s favorite had been Clue, always kicking yours & your father’s asses at discovering who the villain was. You felt yourself smiling at the memory. Replacing the lid, you placed another random board game on top of Life before topping both off with your bowl of fruit.

            You decided you would bring them down to the dining room, that way when Ransom returned, the two of you could play. But just as you were turning around to head back down the stairs, the corner of one of the game boards knocked over a few times that were on top of the bookcase. As the objects clattered to the ground, you groaned inwardly. Putting the games on the coffee table, you moved to place the objects back where they were. But as you did, your hands stopped over an object you hadn’t seen in quite some time: a compact disc player.

            A smile parted your lips as you grabbed it, popping the player open. Inside, the disc in place was Billie Holiday’s Solitude album. Fortunately, a pair of old-school headphones were attached to the player. Untangling the cord, you wrapped the headphones around your head until the foam parts were over your ears.

            Bracing yourself for the possibility that the player may not work, you hit ‘play’. To your relief, music filled your ears as Billie’s voice sang. It was a little scratchy & skipped every now & then, but it was a small win on your part. Leaving the attic with the music still playing in your ears, you brought everything to the dining room, leaving the gameboards but finishing the fruit. Back in the library, you returned to your spot on one of the loungers.

            Kicking your feet up, you stared out the window, no thoughts racing through your mind for once as Billie hid them all away with her songs. Before you knew it, you felt your eyes begin to grow tired. The summer sun cast the library in a golden glow & you welcomed the feeling of safety & comfort. With the music, you no longer felt lonely. As Billie continued to sing softly in your, your lids began to fall close. Then, without a fear in the world, you fell asleep.

            The first night without Ransom arrived & you found yourself approaching his bedroom door down the hall from your own. Before winding down for the night, you did as he instructed & pulled all the curtains closed before double checking all doors & windows were locked. Then when you climbed the stairs, a single candle in your hand, you turned left towards Ransom’s room rather than right to your own.

            You hadn’t put much thought into what exactly it was that you were doing but you let your feet carry you as they felt. Inside Ransom’s room, you dressed down & found an old, worn-through shirt of his before climbing into his bed. Nestling under the covers, you inhaled deeply. Ransom. It made you feel comfortable.

            Your thoughts strayed to him, picturing holed up in an equally large estate as he fought with a generator. You imagined he was thinking of you just as much, if not more. The candle on the nightstand beside you flickered & you watched it in a daze. If Ransom knew you were taking solace in his own bed, you imagined he would be rushing home in an instant. Never would you be so bold as to crawl into his bed if he were there. But you admittedly missed him. This was what you needed to ease your first night without him.

            Outside, it was windy & you could hear the howls of a brewing storm as it passed overhead. You pulled the covers up & over your ears, only your eyes peeking out. Reaching out to the nightstand, you pulled out the disc player you found earlier & brought it into bed with you. Placing the foam over your ears, you hit play again & waited as Billie’s voice drowned out the windy noise. In only a short time, you fell into a deep & restful sleep.

            The following morning found yourself out in the garden before the sun rose. You watered the plants & picked any new fruit or vegetables that were ready to be harvested. After doing those few light chores you spent most of your day at the dining room table playing cards by yourself. Your mother had taught you how to play solitaire at a young age but it had been so long that you struggled on remembering some of what she taught you. But as time passed, you figured it out & played without issue.

            It wasn’t until a little after midday that your stomach growled with hunger. You picked at a few different fruits & vegetables, but nothing was sticking out to you. You never thought there would come a day where you could actually be picky again when it came to food. Your father would be disappointed, but you told yourself he would be relieved you found a safe place to stay, a safe person to protect you. Or at least, that’s just what you told yourself.

            When nothing sounded appetizing, you recalled the fish you had made just the other night. The pond wasn’t far away, you’d only need the map to guide you there & back. It would be nice, you thought, to have another meal ready for when Ransom returned. You imagined he wasn’t having a whole lot of luck with food except for what little he brought with him. Without much further internal debate, you decided you would make the short journey to the pond & see if you couldn’t catch a bass or two.

            After getting ready & gathering the tools you’d need, you set out in direction towards the pond. The day wasn’t as sunny. The storm from the previous night still cast a large gray cloud over the area. But you welcomed the change. It would still be hot but not nearly as it had been in the weeks prior.

            Fortunately, the pond proved easy to find & quick to get to, only a little over twenty minutes. Once there, you set up your little spot & prepared your fishing rod. Once you had decided you would be going fishing, you suckered out a handful of worms from the garden & placed them in a small jar from the kitchen. Swinging a line out into the pond, you sat down & waited patiently. You almost considered bringing the disc player, but even you knew that would go against everything your father trained & taught you. Though you were confident about being alone in the woods, you couldn’t risk limiting any of your senses. You may have welcomed a domesticated life for the time being, but you were still & always would be a survivor first.

            After a couple hours & no catch, you were forced to begin packing up. The clouds darkened & had grown heavy. The first drop of rain landed on your cheek & you realized the storm hadn’t passed fully. There would surely be another one tonight. In a rush, you quickly packed up & began heading back in the direction of the estate.

            Though you were frustrated you didn’t succeed in catching any fish, part of you was relieved that you wouldn’t have to face Ransom’s dismay at you having left the house, something he told you not to do plenty of times. But you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, more so than him. Still, since you had no catch, you wouldn’t have to deal with his expected frustrations.

            You had only been walking for a few minutes before the rain began to come down hard. In a matter of seconds, the forest was being poured on & you slipped as you began to pick up a light jog. A thunderclap ripped through the trees, catching you by surprise, & you glanced up as you ran. The sky lit up & practically split open as a bolt of lightning struck a tree nearby. Kicking your legs, you ran faster, your vision growing blurry as rain gathered in your eyes. You wiped at them desperately, but just as you had, your foot caught a root & sent you flying to the ground.

            You crashed into the forest floor with a dull thud, your face caked in mud. Wincing inwardly, you pushed yourself upwards, but when you went to stand, your ankle whined in protest, forcing you back to your knees. Hissing, you quickly turned over to inspect your ankle. When you touched it, a dull yet sharp pain shot up your leg. You bit your lip in frustration, angry with yourself for having fallen. As your eyes glanced forward, in search of the root that caused your mishap, you were mildly confused by what your eyes landed on.

            A single stick stuck out of the ground. But as you peered closer, it looked less & less like a stick. Swallowing your pain, you dragged yourself closer to inspect the object sticking out from the muddied earth. You were reaching out to touch it & just as you were about to, another thunderclap sounded followed by another lightning bolt, which lit up the forest, exposing the object for what it truly was.

            In horror, you flung yourself backwards, the storm wreaking havoc above you momentarily forgotten about.

            It can’t be, you reasoned with yourself. But as you returned to the object, you couldn’t deny what was on display just in front of you: a finger, chewed down to the bone. Little to no flesh was left on it, likely having been gotten at by forest life, but it was exactly what it was, a human finger.

            Another tree was struck in the distance, kicking you out of your horrified state. Unable to inspect the sight further, you were forced to get up, your ankle still screaming in protest, but you pushed on, gritting your teeth as you limped as fast as you could back to the estate. After racing through the trees as fast as you could, you finally made it back & threw yourself into the greenhouse, finally out of the storm.

            You dropped your gear on the ground & sat, sitting crisscross so you could attend to your ankle. But there was nothing in the greenhouse you could use to stabilize your ankle. You would have to go inside. Resting for another minute, you finally made way towards the house, the gear forgotten about. As you stumbled inside the house, you had use your whole body weight to close the door as the high-speed winds battled against you. But once you got the door shut, you clattered around in the dimly lit kitchen in search of the med kit.

            Once you found it, you collapsed on the floor & began to wrap your ankle. You wouldn’t be able to put much pressure on it to keep it from worsening, but it’d have to do. You knew you didn’t break your ankle, you’d be in much more pain, but you likely sprained it. You only needed to ice it & keep it elevated in the meantime for it to heal better.

            But as you finished putting away the med kit & limped towards the stairs, leaving a trail of mud in your wake, your mind still wandered to the finger out in the woods. It had been sticking straight up out of the ground, as if it had roots like a tree. And that only meant one thing, it was attached to a body. A human body. Ransom had once told you that the estate was on a land of many acres. The land where that finger stuck out was part of the estate.

            As you made it to the bathroom upstairs, a single horrified thought occurred to you then. Did Ransom know it was there? Or did he put it there? And most importantly, who was it? You decided that when the storm cleared your ankle be damned, you would be going back out there & discovering the answers for yourself.

i was so excited to write this chapter but i'm even MORE excited to write the next. it's about to get deceptively juicy, friends.

as always, please share your thoughts w me via dropping an ask, leaving a comment, or reblogging w reviews. your feedback keeps me going.

thank you for reading!

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

taglist:

to be added to a taglist read rule 11 here. requests will be dismissed otherwise.

[shadeysprings]

No Good in Goodbyes

—Ransom Drysdale x Mature!F!Reader

Summary — Ransom makes it known why breaking up with him is wrong.

Warnings — noncon, car sex, age gap (reader is older than Ransom), Ransom is Mean. There may be more that I forgot so I ask that you read with caution.

A/N — Another TBS writing challenge, with Ransom as our man. I do ask you to be gentle as this is the first time I've written him. This is also a wip I have so this is a sneak peek for y'all.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Grabbing onto the leather seat, you bite down on your tongue to stifle your cries as Ransom roughly fucks you from behind. You thought the timing would be right to tell him of what your daughter said, that dating someone her age would only sully further the family name.

But to even think Ransom would be understanding of your situation, that he would respect your decision was something you never should have expected. Especially now as he takes you shamelessly in his car, parked just outside your daughter’s apartment, rethinking the affection he’s shown for you. 

“What makes you think you can leave me just like that?” He snarls and you gasp as he rams his cock deep into your core. “No one leaves Ransom Drysdale. Especially not some old woman like you.” His words pierce deep into your heart, making you cry but more so from the brutal pace he sets as he thrusts relentlessly into your cunt. 

“Ransom—! Stop!” You beg, but he refuses to listen. Anger rises in you that you try to push back but he simply pushes a hand against your head, burying it against the leather seat of his car. “I hate—” But the words never leave your lips as he grabs you by your neck and yanks you back, making you face him. 

“Go no. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me.” He threatens before giving you a sinister smile and claiming your lips with a sloppy kiss.

[bibislutmarvel]

I made gifs, you're welcome 😘

[thezombieprostitute]

For your trick or treat event: I’m not wearing a costume 😡 loll. And for my babe, Ransom and/or Lloyd, depending on what sparks your muse 😘 Thank you!

You get, a Trick!

This wasn't how you were expecting your Halloween to go. Ransom had you naked, on a leash, crawling on all fours through the crowded party. Whenever you whined, not daring to actually speak, Ransom would harshly pull on your leash. "You said you weren't going to wear a costume," he chides.

[deceitfuldevout]

Deceitfuldevout's Chris Evans Masterlist:

❤️ = Fluff

🔞 = Spicy/Nsfw

🖤 = Dark

❌ = No warnings/Sfw

One-Shots:

Poison Apple - Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Goth!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704554242553380864/poison-apple?source=share

Trust - Dark!Stucky x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649373631528960/trust?source=share

Red Daughter - Dark!Steve Rogers x ExHydra!Reader x Dark!Bucky Barnes: 🔞🖤 https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649377217724416/red-daughter?source=share

Sleeping Beauty - Dark!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader x Dark!Bucky Barnes: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649380328882176/sleeping-beauty?source=share

The Passenger - Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704662523144765440/the-passenger?source=share

Ruining America's Sweetheart - Dark!Steve Rogers x Sidekick!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/726011254129524736/americas-sweetheart?source=share

PIty Party - Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Runaway!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/715180927034294272/pity-party?source=share

Series:

Easy Money - Dark!Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x Heiress!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/708439020662882304/deceitfuldevouts-easy-money-masterlist?source=share

Trust Fund Baby - Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/707813567777439744/trust-fund-baby-masterlist?source=share

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. 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: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: this is intended as a one shot but you also know I'm easy to influence.

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. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Happy birthday!” Vivica shoves the plastic teeth of the dollar store tiara into your hair. 

You try not to glower as the rest of the table roars with laughter. It’s a happy night. You can’t spoil it just because you hate gimmicks. They mean well, you’re just a downer. Like always. 

You force a smile, “thanks, guys.” 

“Don’t thank us, it’s your night,” Jerrod chirps. “Which means you drink for free!” 

Big whoop. You barely drink. You’ll have one or two for the occasion but you don’t like the way it makes your stomach feel. Ugh, stop being such a tight ass. It’s about you but it isn’t. They went to all this trouble planning the night. For you. Your friends. You can at least be thankful for them. 

Yeah, you have friends but how much do they really know you? For as long as you’ve known them, they should know that this isn’t you. They are the ones that want to go out, that want to drink, that want to wade into the unpredictability of the general public. That’s not you. 

“So, what are we having?” Mila asks. 

“Hm, I don’t know. You know I’m not picky.” It all just tastes like alcohol. 

“Ooh, cucumber gimlet. That sounds nice,” Jerrod says. 

“Oh, it really does,” Vivica agrees. 

“I’m going to try the gummy bear. I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Mila says. 

“Sure, I’ll try that,” you shrug. 

Jerrod flags down a server and puts in the order. As he does, Vivica stirs around under the table. Mila claps as she reveals the gift bag from beneath. 

“My favourite part,” Mila wiggles with excitement. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to--” 

“It’s only one part of our gift,” Jerrod laughs knowingly. 

You give him a wary look. You don’t like his tone. You accept the gift bag and look inside. You can’t tell what it is. You pull out the tissue paper and a small box wiggles inside. Slowly, you slip it out and just as quickly shove it back in. 

“That’s it. You wanna do it just like that,” Jerrod guffaws. 

Your mouth drops open as you look around the table. The bright pink dildo has your cheeks on fire. You can’t believe they’d bring that out in public. 

“What is wrong with you guys?” 

“Oh, come on, everyone can use a good six inches or so,” Jerrod snickers. “That’s our backup gift. Our real gift is somewhere around here.” 

“Huh?” You peek around the bar. “Like a scavenger hunt?” 

“Oh, it’s a hunt,” Vivica juts out her chin. “You set the target and we’ll take him down for you.” 

“What?” You scoff. 

“Come on, honey, you’re thirty. You need to get one last hurrah in,” Jerrod insists. “When it’s my turn, I want three beefy boys. One in each flavour, blond, brunette, and even a redhead.” 

“I’ll have the same,” Mila smirks. 

You’re embarrassed. Uncertain two. You can’t tell if they’re mocking you. Out of the four of you, you’ve always been the boring one. The sober one. All these years, and you were the one saving them from regrettable drunken mistakes and making sure they don’t leave the bar with creeps. It wouldn’t be hard for them to guess, would it? 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be your wingmen. Wingwomen. Wingfriends!” Vivica says. “How about him?” She points as the server lays out the drinks. “He’s cute. Oh, look at his eyes.” 

“Wow,” Mila preens. “A bad boy. That would be adorable.” 

You want to disappear. You want to dissolve into the cushioned bench. Become a part of it. Life as a piece of a furniture must surely be nicer. 

“And his friends, not bad, huh?” 

You’re speechless. It’s a joke. Even if they don’t mean it as one, it is. All these years and you’ve never been the one approached first. You’re the straggler. You get the odd one out and they get stuck with you. Maybe, all this time, your friends had been too self-absorbed or too drunk to notice that. 

You don’t mean to be bitter. You shouldn’t be. It isn’t their fault you’re so lame. That you’ve gone another year without a single thing to be proud of. Without any change. 

“Right, well, they look busy.” 

“Booooo,” Vivica hovers her glass in front of her mouth. “Who wants to break the ice?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mila stands. 

“Wait.” You blurt out but she ignores you. 

Some birthday. You get to spend it awkwardly making small talk with another disinterested stranger. You try not to show your discomfort. You grab the skewer with gummy bears impaled on it and stir the vibrant red drink. You sip through the thin straw. It makes your cheek pinch painfully. The sugar will do worse to your stomach than the vodka. 

You keep your head down as Mila’s fluttery giggle wafts over. Vivica giggles as she watches and Jerrod cranes to see. You stare at the table and distance yourself from the moment, detaching from your body as the bar hazes around you. 

“Hey, you guys, come on,” Mila calls over, “lots of room.” 

Her waving hand brings you back to the present. Vivica nudges you with her elbow as Jerrod jumps up. He grabs Mila’s drink and you shuffle along behind them. The group of men sit at one of the tall tables. They rearrange themselves and you stand back as the others claim their seats. 

You climb up on the last, balancing your drink and the gift bag, unable to bring yourself to look at the men on either side of you. You fixate on your drink and taste it again, even as the sickly flavour curdles in your mouth. Your friends introduce themselves and you choke on your name before Mila says it for you. 

The men take their turns. Your eyes dart around evasively. A sweltering heat forms a sheen across your face. The one with the frosted tips and glasses is Jensen, the broader brunette in the button-up and blazer is Nick, the biggest with his bushy beard is Sy, and the last one, beside you, with the buzz cut, is Curtis. 

“Nice crown,” Jensen says. “Happy birthday.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reach up and take of the tiara. “Thanks.” 

“You from here or visiting?” Jerrod asks the men. 

“We work at Stacks.” 

“Programmers?” Vivica snorts. “You might know my ex. Two of them actually.” 

They laugh. You don’t know what’s funny. This is weird. You hate that invisible barrier between you and them, that makes you feel like you’re on a completely different planet. You don’t get this part of the script. The prologue is as far as you ever get. 

“How old are you?” Curtis’ deep timbre startles you as it rolls beneath the chatter of the others. You shift in your seat and twist the glass around. 

“Thirty,” you pick up the Tiara, the 3 and 0 nearly hidden by the feathers. 

“Ah, the big one,” he comments. 

“Yeah, just another year,” you put the plastic crown down. 

“What do you do?” 

You sniff and tap your fingers on the cup. You lift it and drain the last of the fruity juice and stringent vodka. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what?” He asks. 

“My friends are just being goofy. You don’t have to act like you’re into me.” 

“Well, I’m not much of an actor. Never was into theatre,” he says. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Just trying to get to know you, figure that out.” 

“Really,” you give him a sideways look. “Ah,” you hiss in false disappointment, “hate to break the seal but I gotta go the ladies. Excuse me.” 

“Right,” he accepts dully. “How about I get you a refill, for your birthday?” 

“You don’t have to but if you really want to, I could use a ginger ale. Thanks.” You accept as you climb off the stool. 

You cross the bar and stop just at the threshold of the hallway that reads Girls and Boys above. You glance back. Mila has her charming smile on, Vivica is leaning into Sy, and Jerrod and Nick are watching something on his phone. Why can’t you be normal, like them? 

You flinch as you catch Curtis’ eye. His eyes flick to you as he talks to the server. You quickly spin away. You’ll wait until the third round when they’re too tipsy to care. Then you’ll make your exit. 

🍹

The hotel clerk hands you the key card. You don’t make eye contact. If you do, she might see right through you. You shove it in your pocket before the tremour is noticeable. You hurry away to the elevator and tap the button three times. 

You’re not impatient because your eager. You just want to get this over with. Finally. It only took you thirty years. 

The doors open and you step in, relieved that no one else gets on with you. When you’re shut in, you shudder. You’re disgusted. With this. With yourself. But you’re tired. You just want to pull of the bandage. You want to know what all the fuss is about so you can say you’re not missing out on anything. 

Ever since your birthday, since that pathetic deja vu of going home alone, of your friends stealing the attention on what the claim was your night, you haven’t been able to stop those thought. You’re pathetic. A loser. No wonder it’s hasn’t happened yet. Who would want to touch you? They barely want to talk to you. They wouldn’t if you weren’t a leech on your friends’ ankles. 

The doors open and jar you. You stagger then march out. You slide the card out and check the room number again. Your hands shake so bad it takes you five tries to get the green light. 

Inside the room, the nausea swells in your stomach. Your teeth chatter. You go into the bathroom and put the bag on the counter. You dig out the anti-nausea medicine and read the insert; take one or two. Do not take with alcohol. 

You pop the pink pill in your mouth and swallow. You look at your reflection. You look as scared as you feel. No time to waste, you’ve done enough of that. 

You start with the shower. You wash every crook and crevice. You check your legs and under your arms. You only shaved yesterday night but you don’t need any pricklies. And your pelvis. You did a decent enough job trimming that down. 

You get out and moisturise. You don’t want to smell. For once in your life, you don’t want to feel repugnant. You’re not some romantic. You thought of buying lingerie but that only seemed sadder. So you put on a pair of grey jersey pajamas, just a tank top and shorts. 

You don’t want to look like this is a big deal. That you tried too hard. You do your hair and a little bit of makeup. Too much would just get messy anyway. Deodorant, perfume, and mouthwash. You’re as fresh as can be. 

And anxious! 

You take out the box of condoms. You don’t think the pills are working. You want to vomit, even though you haven’t eaten. You grab your phone and check the messages. Shoot, it’s a lot later than you thought. 

‘Cashapp?’ 

Fuck, you forgot. You quickly flip over to your menu and sign in. You send the money and your chest drops. This is it. That’s a hefty wad of cash. You hope it’s worth it. 

You reply to the text; ‘sent’ then the room number. There. Done deal. It’s going to happen. Then you can say, yeah, did it, no big deal. 

You go into the suite and put your phone on the night table. You sit on the bed for a whole second before you bounce off. No, you can’t stay there. No, no, no. You pace and wring your hands as you wait. 

The knock trips you up. You turn to stare at the door and like a horror movie, your eyes widen and your ears ring. He’s here. 

You near the door and stop to look through the key hole. There’s a trickle of relief. He looks like the pictures her sent. That’s good. 

You open the door a crack and look out. He looks annoyed as he checks his watch then tugs on the lapels of his jacket. It looks like a designer; the lining has little emblems on it. He says your name, “that’s you, right?” 

“Hugh? Right?” You blink and he nods as he cheek ticks, “er, come in.” 

You pull back the door and press yourself to the wall. He struts in and clicks his tongue in his cheek. He examines the room as he shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the small bench against the wall. You close the door and he whistles. You face him as he tilts his head, looking you up and down. 

“Smells good in here,” he grins and smooths his tidy hair. 

Despite who and what he is, he’s handsome. Well, that probably helps. It’s why you paid half your savings for one night. You sway slightly then swallow down the despair. You’re doing it. You’re really going to do it. 

A fucking prostitute. That’s as good as you can do. 

“How about some music,” he approaches the speaker under the television, “think these things have bluetooth now.” 

“Sure,” you croak, watching him as you cross your arms. It’s not too late. No, you don’t think you’ll get a refund now. 

He takes out his phone and swipes around. He holds a button on the sound bar and it chimes. Soft R&B drawls from the speaker. You bite your thumb as you stare at him. 

“So...” he looks at you. 

You nod and clear your throat. You don’t know what to do. You don’t think the whole foreplay thing is going to happen. 

He drags his hands down his cream sweater. He doesn’t really dress like an escort. Or maybe you just put too much trust in movies. He lifts the hem as you stay as you are. Your feet are glued to the floor. 

He strips off the sweater and reveals a muscled torso and a thicket of dark hair across his chest. You don’t expect it as he sports a clean shave on his jaw. You clamp down on your arms as you keep them folded across your chest. 

“Like what you see?” He winks and bites his lips. 

He’s good. You almost believe him. If you weren’t missing a chunk from your bank account, you might. 

“Come on, baby, why don’t you get some wine going,” he purrs. 

A distraction. Thank god. You go to the bar fridge and take out one of the mini bottles of white wine. You peel off the foil over the cap but can’t break the seal. You struggle, trying to hide your effort, but sense him coming close. 

“I just need to find some glass,” you say. 

He chuckles and takes the bottle. His blue eyes devour you as he cracks the seal and flicks the cap away. He drinks directly from the bottle and smirks. 

“No need. Go on,” he offers it up. 

Your lips twitch and you take the bottle. You drink, nearly gagging. You swallow and hand it back. He swigs as he watches you. 

He is so good looking. You wonder how he even got into this. He’s built like a god. No, a gladiator. You’re such a frigging dweeb. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta be uptight,” he gives the wine back to you, “relax, enjoy the wine. You paid for the night. No hurry.” 

You nod and drink again. It goes down easier. You return the bottle to him and he strides to the bed. He sits and pats the other side of the mattress.  

“Come here, sweetheart.” 

You quiver and lock your arms straight. You are conscious of every single part of you as you near him. You sit stiffly and stare ahead. The music drones as he gulps again. He bends forward to set the empty bottle on the floor. 

You wince as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. He traces the strap of your tank top and pulls you against him. You shiver as he brushes up your neck. 

“This your first time?” 

You twitch then make yourself nod. You wait for him to laugh. He doesn’t. 

“Well, let’s go slow, then.” 

“No,” you erupt. “I mean--” you grip your knees and steady yourself. “I want to just do it. Get it over with.” You grit your teeth and force a breath out your nose. “There’s condoms in the bathroom.” 

Now he laughs. “Huh, you know what you want.” 

You don’t reply. You can’t. That was the last of your courage or whatever you want to call it. 

He goes into the bathroom and you list as he opens the box. He emerges and examines the square wrapper. It looks even smaller in his large hand. He rests his other on the top of his pants. 

“How do you want it?” He asks. 

You stare at him. How do you want it? You don’t know. You raise your brows helplessly. 

“Wanna get naked?” He suggests. 

You look at the bed. You blink long and hard. Your head feels fuzzy. Must be the wine. 

“Right,” he sighs and undoes his zipper. You peek up long enough to see the top of his boxers. You back away and crawl up the bed. 

You face away from him as you strip off your shirt, then your shorts. You jitter as you lay down flat like a plank. You stare at the ceiling as the wrapper crinkles. He groans as he comes closer to the bed. 

“I like these ones,” he puts a knee on the bed. 

Your breath is like thunder. You feel like your suffocating. He touches your leg and you squeak. 

“Gonna have to open up, baby,” he pets your knee. 

You let him drag your legs apart. You can’t do it yourself. You wipe your face with a shaky hand. 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” 

Your eyes snap to him as something clicks. He holds a small bottle with a black label. He squirts the clear oil onto his fingers then reaches between your legs. You return your gaze to the ceiling before he makes contact. 

He rubs the cool lube between your folds. Your thighs quake as he glides up and down. Over and over until the moisture is more than just from the bottle. 

He tickles your entrance and you tense. He rasps as he circles around, “relax.” He pokes a finger into you and you clench. He wiggles it and hushes you as you whimper. “Look, you’re not gonna like it if you don’t chill.” 

He sinks his finger further in then pulls it out again. You blow your breath out and suck it back in as he dips inside once more. You clasp the duvet beneath you as he fingers you rhythmically. Your pussy trembles around him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he pushes a second finger into you. “You wanna be ready, huh? I mean... it’s your first time, you gotta be ready.” 

The comment is like a slap across the face. Still, you can’t focus on his words. Your eyes feel fuzzy and your body is alight with a spectrum of tingles. 

He rocks his hand and you lift your pelvis slightly. He presses his thumb against your clit and you gasp. The mix of pressure and motion is intense. You’re not completely clueless. That toy your friends gave you isn’t the only one you have, you just never used one inside of you. 

You push your head down into the pillows and moan. He hums in approval and brushes his other hand up your stomach. He rolls his thumb around your nipple. 

“Yeah, like that, relax,” he pushes deeper and you whine, little pouts coming as you dig your heels into the mattress. “Oh, my god, baby, you’re going to cum, aren’t you?” 

You squeal as you spasm. It’s not your first orgasm but it’s the best one you’ve ever had. It’s wild how different it is with someone, anyone, else. You shake as your voice unfurl and your cunt squelches around his fingers. He cooes at you as he eases you through your climax. 

“Was that so bad?” He wiggles his fingers before he pulls them free. “Huh? Think you liked that.” He gets up on his knees and moves between your legs. He strokes his dick, swollen inside the rubber sheath. “Think you’ll like this a whole lot better.” 

You lift your head dozily and stare at him. He’s big. Long and thick. That dildo was probably smaller than him and you left it in the package. 

He moves closer and you let out a surprised chitter. He caresses your thigh and hushes you as he grips your hip. He pumps himself with his other hand and angles his tip along your lips. 

“You said you wanted to get it done,” he pushes his blunt tip along your entrance. “Don’t hold your breath, baby.” 

He pushes into you and you cry put. Oh. That’s not good. The blinding pain ripples through you. This is different too. Not like his fingers. He’s... 

“Too big,” you rasp. “Please-- ah, ah, ah.” 

“Come on, baby, you can take it,” he growls as he inches into you. “Once it’s in, it’ll feel better.” He impales you down to his base and snarls as he leans his head back. He rolls his shoulders and shudders. “Fuck, it’s been a while since I had a virgin cunt.” 

Flames of humiliation lick at you. This man who fucks for a living is taking your virginity like it’s a prize. Another deposit in the bank. Why did you do this? 

“Hugh,” you eke out his name and reach down, pressing your fingertips to his stomach. “I don’t want--” 

He thrusts and you shriek. Your lips form and O as your head falls back down. You whimper as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your fingers furl into fists and your toes curl. 

“Baby, you said you wanted this. You paid for it,” he grabs your wrists and moves your hands above your head, locking them there as he holds himself above you. “Ah, fuck.” He rams into you again and your tears spill over. “Ah, ah, ah,” he continues to thrust, “you are fucking tight. Ah.” 

He closes his eyes as his nostrils flair and he groans, “the way you’re squeezing me--” 

“Please,” you snivel and he snaps his pelvis into yours. You push your legs wider, trying to ease the pressure. “Ow. You’re hurt—ing me.” 

“Argh, yes, oh,” he ruts into you harder and harder. 

The springs of the bed bounce you against him as his pace turns furious. He puffs like an animal as his eyes blare down at you. You writhe and sob, your face wet with horror and humiliation. Your flesh claps together slickly as he raises himself only to drop down with all his weight. Again and again and again. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, you hear that. Your first time and you got about to blow,” he sneers. “Tell me you want me to cum.” 

You gurgle helplessly and he slams into you, “tell me.” 

“Please--” You squeal. “Please just cum. Just...” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grunts as he batters you. 

“Please cum--” 

He bucks wildly and lets out a bellowing roar. He pushes his head up and drones through his climax as he fucks you into the bed. You close your eyes and turn your head away. He slows as your heart pounds in your temples and your skin scalds. What did you do? 

He lets go of your wrists and pulls out of you all at once. He leaves you splayed on the bed. His footfalls slap away to the bathroom and the faucet runs. You don’t dare move, hoping that if you don’t, this will all just turn out to be a nightmare. 

🛏️

You touch your wrist and rip your hand away as if you’ve been burned. The bruises are tender. All of you is, but especially... that part of you. 

You have a pillow under you as you sit on your couch. You can barely put your weight on your pelvis. Each time a pang strikes, you remember that horrible mistake. Now you can really say that it isn’t all it’s made out to be. It’s not worth it. 

You lean on the armrest and stare at the television. You don’t see the faces or hear the words. Like the rest of the world, it’s now a fog. Like that night. The box for the pills said not to mix with alcohol. 

You lean your head in your hand. You don’t want to think about it. That’s worse than what happened. The memory. That never ends. 

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. Vivica called several times. Jerrod once, and all Mila sent was some Tiktok you don’t care about. 

The table continues to vibrate. It agitates you. You get up and stumble. You cup between your legs. You wear only a sleep shirt. You don’t want anything to chafe. You grab your phone and check the ID. Who the heck? 

You answer, “hello?” 

“Hi, is this...” the timbre asks. Do you know them. 

“Uh, yeah, is this the pharmacy?” 

There’s a silence, “uh, no, it’s Curtis.” 

“Curtis,” you repeat. 

“From the bar?” He says uncertainly. 

You already know that. You just don’t believe it. You frown. 

“How did you get my number?” 

“Your friend. Viv. Sorry, I... I guess I shoulda asked you but you left so early.” 

“Why?” You ask then cringe at your own stupidity. 

“Why... because... I want to ask you out. I’m not good at beating around the bush, you know, but you don’t really give a guy a chance.” 

“Asking me out?” 

“Trying.” 

You’re quiet again. It’s like sledge hammer shattering your reality. A couple days ago, you’d be giddy. Not it’s ironic. After what you did. Another laugh in the face. 

“So, did I... just embarrass myself here or...” he huffs. You feel bad. 

You never gave him a chance. You never gave yourself a chance. And now you spoiled it all. You can’t bring yourself to take out your self-hatred on him again. You can humour him for one date. Then you can say, at least, that you’ve done that too. 

“Um, alright,” you agree, wishing it was happier, wishing that it could be different. You’ll have to figure out how to let him down easy. Although Mila says ghosting is even easier. “Sure.” 

“Sure,” he echoes you. “Don’t sound so excited.” 

“Ha, sorry,” you turn and rub your neck. “Yes. Let me know what works for you.” 

“I can do that,” he sounds relieved. “I’ll text you in a minute.” 

“Alright,” you hold back a scoff. “Thanks for calling, Curtis.” 

“No, thank you.” 

He hangs up and you turn the phone to silent. Your eyes sting as you lay it face down on the table and walk away. Things could have been so much different if you weren’t so damn stupid. He’ll figure that out and maybe you won’t have to be the one to break it off. 

[late-to-the-party-81]

Never-ending nightmare

AN: this is my entry for @cockslutpadalecki’s 15 sentence challenge and in Lisa’s honour I’ve decided to make this a follow-up to the fic I wrote for the last challenge of her’s I joined in with - Yesterday’s Dream, Today’s Nightmare. Thanks to @navybrat817 for spitballing with me and providing some of the dialogue. Dialogue prompt from Lisa's list in bold.

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard/banners by me. Please note - pics in moodboard do not reflect the size or ethnicity of the reader. My reader is a blank slate for you to imagine as you will.

Master list

Relationship: Dark Ransom x Reader, Dark Ari x Reader

Word Count: 600

CW: THIS IS A DARK FIC - Implied Non Con/Rape, but not described in detail, Basement wife vibes, kidnap, drugging, violence, major angst and despair, no happy ending.

You’d lost track of the days since that fateful ‘first day at work’ when Ransom had drugged you, violated you, and then later, when you were unconscious, taken you to what was probably his home. You hadn’t seen anything outside of this room and it’s en-suite, other than what little you could view through the small, high window when you stood right on your toes; a few trees and hills.You’d seen a lot of Ransom though, more than you’d ever wanted to, and there was nothing you could do to stop him - you were shackled by your ankle to the bed, naked and unable to escape him or his voracious appetites.

You’d struggled at first - fought him tooth and nail, as he laughed and cuffed you around the head to disorientate you, before pinning you down with his big hands and even bigger body, taking what he wanted, despite  - and probably egged on by - your cries. Eventually you gave up fighting - it did nothing apart from wear you down, leaving you battered and bruised - and lying limp and blank seemed to take the fun out of it for Ransom, which you considered a win, albeit a small one.

Days passed, blending together one after the other after the other, and the only thing you didn’t know was what time he’d appear to torture you, be that mentally, physically or both. He forced you to wash and to eat and drink, and you swore he was drugging you - you were alway light and floaty when you were in the bathtub, almost able to forget the how and why of you being here until he dragged you out and did what he wanted.

However, one day the monotony was broken when Ransom entered your room with another man in tow; shaggy, dark blonde hair with an even shaggier beard, and both so tall and broad it should have scared you, but his eyes, as blue as the ocean, seemed, initially at least, so kind. You looked at the stranger, your own eyes wide and imploring - maybe you could appeal to his better instincts, convince him to help you escape and release you from this living hell? When Ransom nipped into your bathroom to wash up, you turned to the man and pleaded with him, asking him to help you, but as you rambled his expression darken, and showed more and more amusement, making your heart sink - this man was a friend of Ransom’s and was no doubt as bad as him.

“Hey, Ran - your girl here asked me to let her go, and if she’s asking that, she isn’t broken - just means you don’t know how to play with your toys,” he commented with a smirk as your captor returned, drying his hands on the small hand towel.They both looked at you darkly, and you felt a new frisson of fear run down your spine - if Ransom on his own was bad, him and this friend of his together was going to be downright terrifying.

With a condescending smile, Ransom approached, and for the first time in days - or was it weeks - you scrabbled away, ankle chain clanking, using the bed as a futile barrier, panic rising in your body despite your efforts.

“Is that so - maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to, even though I’m gonna let Ari play every once in a while.”

He dragged you onto the bed as you screamed and kicked, watching the stranger - Ari - start to shed his clothes and knowing you were never going to get away.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[krirebr]

Psycho Killer AU Masterlist

Summary: A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life.

Warnings: Psychological horror, dubcon, gore, death - See each entry for individual warnings. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

A/N: All titles come from Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

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.

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

You take a trip to Boston

Qu'est-ce Que C'est

You and Ransom go to Paris.

I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire

In Germany, you and Ransom run into someone from his past.

Continuing AU

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Summit : Chapter Six

A Ransom Drysdale Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER FIVE | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER SEVEN

            An hour & another glass of wine later, you found yourself being spun around the mansion. Ransom guided your body as he moved the two of you from room to room. Can’t Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Vallie played loudly as the two of you smiled & twirled about like you were in an end of the world romance film.

            To both your surprise & welcome, the wine had loosened you up. You were having fun. You were smiling boldly & adding your own moves as the two of you danced freely. At one point even, you ran forward & hopped onto the loveseat in the living room, your arms raised above you, fingers spread out as you danced to the rhythm of the song. It reminded you of the days when you lived on your humble farm with your mother & father.

            Your mother & you would be dancing wildly as Dancing Queen or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun would blare throughout the house & your dad would come in from a long day’s work & find the two of you. It was long before your mother got sick for the final time & she would drag your reluctant father into the mix. She’d make him dance with her while you continued jamming out across the room & always, at some point, you would stop to admire your parents. Your father always looked at her with love, & though he loathed dancing, he’d dance with her.

            You jumped down from the loveseat & began spinning as you headed towards the foyer. Ransom followed behind you & even in your dizzying movements, you didn’t miss how his eyes never left you, how there was a constant smirk on his face as he took in the sight of you having fun for the first time in forever. It encouraged you to keep it up.

            At that point, you had already slipped out of your shoes & was barefoot. The wood beneath your feet was cool to the bottoms of your feet as you felt your body heat up as you kept moving. You were at the center of the foyer & suddenly stopped though, your stomach lurching. You frowned, holding both your forehead & stomach as the nauseating feeling escalated.

            Oh no.

            The front door was closer than the bathroom & you raced towards it, throwing it open as you burst outside. You made it to the front steps before you lurched forward, bent at the waist & began throwing up.

            Your eyes widened at the sight of red liquids mixed with your dinner as they spilled from your mouth. Ransom was behind you suddenly, gathering your hair in his hands to keep it from being caught in the spray & you thanked him internally as your body continued rejecting the food & wine. When you finally stopped puking, you willed yourself to sit down on the steps, your body shaking.

            “Yeah.” Ransom sighed knowingly beside you as he joined you, he pulled a cloth napkin from his pants pocket & reached to wipe your mouth before wiping the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead, “Probably should’ve warned you what having that kind of fun would do to you after drinking.”

            You wanted to sign a quip back but your body was still feeling ill so you signed nothing.

            “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

            But when you struggled to stand up, your vision & world still off-balance, Ransom swiftly lifted you up, carrying you bridal style back inside the mansion, effortlessly kicking the front door closed behind him as he brought you to the loveseat you had been dancing on only moments prior. Music still played faintly, having switched to a softer song, but your head was too busy trying to catch itself for you to recognize the song.

            Ransom disappeared but quickly returned with a glass of water & two pills. You gratefully took the water but eyed the pills warily.

            Ransom produced the bottle they came from, shaking it, “Anti-nausea.”

            The word ‘nausea’ made your stomach flip & you feared puking once more, forcing you to accept the pills before downing them with a gulp of water.

            Ransom sat beside you on the loveseat, though at a respectable distance to which you were thankful. You hadn’t forgotten about the kiss you two shared only a couple hours before in the dining room. But drinking & dancing had made it easier to pretend it hadn’t happened. You still were battling with your conflicted thoughts on the exchange, but you knew you’d have a clearer mind in the morning.

            You sat there a while in silence as you held your head in your hands, willing your mind & body to sober up. When you finally felt an inkling better, you lifted your head to face Ransom.

            ‘Thank you’, you signed.

            Ransom simply nodded, his eyes soft & a gentle smile on his face.

            You wanted to say more but your pad & pen were nowhere in sight & Ransom wasn’t advanced enough in his lessons to understand you. So, you stood up, prepared to go find it but as you did, your world tipped again. Ransom was quick to place a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down to sit.

            “What do you need?” He asked, his voice thick with concern.

            You moved your hands together to mimic writing.

            He nodded in understanding before disappearing.

            A moment later, he returned with your source of communication & handed it to you. You wasted no time in flipping to the first blank page & scribbling ineligibly.

            I don’t drink.

            Ransom’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he chuckled, “You don’t say.”

            “You ever drink before?”

            You shook your head, writing, “My first time.”

            Ransom waved his arm outwards, “Glad to be your first, madam.”

            You rolled your eyes at the dramatic gesture but smiled, nonetheless.

            I should go to sleep.

            “I agree.” Ransom stood & offered his hand, to which you took, worried you wouldn’t be able to walk properly without his help.

            As expected, Ransom led you up the stairs to your bathroom. You thanked him once more, intending to enter the bathroom to brush your teeth & rinse the aftertaste of folly from your mouth but he held you close still.

            “Thank you, _____.” Your name on his tongue always felt strange but you couldn’t deny liking the sound of it, “Tonight has been the best night I’ve had since the world went to shit.”

            The way he looked at you… it made your stomach flip in other ways, but ways that still left you feeling unsure. You watched as his eyes fell to your lips. He wanted to kiss you again. The fact the two of you had even kissed to begin with was something that shouldn’t have happened. You knew he was getting to attached to you, & perhaps you to him, but unlike him, you had plans to leave one day, plans he didn’t know of. You didn’t want to lead him anymore.

            When he leaned forward, you quickly stepped out of his grip & covered your mouth, your eyes wide. Ransom paused, staring at you questionably. You waved your hand before your nose, using your bad breath as an excuse to avoid a second kiss. Ransom seemed to understand. And while he respected your wish, he continued to close the distance, leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

            You couldn’t deny how the forehead kiss made you feel. Safe, seen, taken care of. It had been such a painfully long time since you felt any of those sensations. But everything your father taught still clung to your instincts.

  ��         Ransom stepped back, watching as you slowly closed the door. Once the door latched shut, you locked it before leaning against it. You listened as Ransom left, his footfalls on the stairs until they disappeared. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you flickered your eyes closed. Part of you wanted him to kiss you, but you knew better. This isn’t what your father taught you, to be dependent on another, or to let another person get close enough as you already had. Yet you enjoyed Ransom’s company. You were no longer alone. Perhaps you could stay & live out the rest of the days with him. Would that be so terrible?

            But you shook your head.

            This is the wine. You argued with yourself.

            Approaching the sink, you caught yourself in the mirror. You stared at yourself all dolled up in the pink dress, your hair unkept & your eyes red. This wasn’t you. You were built to survive, to depend only on yourself, to live a life of solitude. But then you found yourself subconsciously bringing your fingers to your lips in memory of Ransom kissing you.

            But things change… Ransom happened.

            Fuck.

            It was a couple days later when you were in the library, eyeing the titles of books in search of a new novel to read when Ransom entered the room carrying a tray of freshly brewed tea. Your eyes met & the two of you shared a smile.

            “Elderberry.” Ransom announced, “Like you wanted.”

            The two of you sat on chairs opposite one another on end of the library as he poured each of you a cup. You brought the tea to your nose, enjoying the scent before taking a tender sip.

            “Find anything?” Ransom asked as he peered at the plethora of bookshelves with more books you could ever hope to own yourself.

            You shook your head.

            “Then let me recommend one.” Ransom stood & approached a bookshelf at the far end of the library. You followed behind him.

            He turned the book over to you & you peered at the cover.

            “It’s about a small-town doctor caught up in ritualistic sacrifices.”

            You flew your eyes to him, brows furrowing.

            He smiled at that, “I’ve seen the book you keep. It’s right up your alley.”

            Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t argue with that. You flipped through the book briefly before glancing up. Your eyes landed on something else on the bookshelf over Ransom’s shoulder.

            Slipping by him, you eyed the easel-back picture frame, the picture inside of a gathering of people just in front the very mansion you stood in.

            Picking it, you eyed it, recognizing one face amongst the group.

            “My family.” Ransom replied, his voice turning cold.

            You stared at Ransom in the picture. He wasn’t smiling & standing at the edge of the group. His hands tucked into his pants as he practically glared at the camera.

            Ransom stood behind you as your eyes bounced around all the faces. Your eyes landed on one teenaged girl with long brown hair, she too wasn’t smiling. In fact, no one was, which you found odd. You pointed at her, looking to Ransom.

            “Meg, yeah.”

            As you continued staring at the image, you realized every single person in that picture, every single person Ransom called ‘family’ was dead. Much like yours.

            ‘What happened?’ You signed.

            Ransom frowned. You slowed down your signing, willing him to remember his lessons.

            “Ah.” Ransom reluctantly plucked the frame from your hands before replacing it back where it once stood, though this time he turned the picture away from you, faced with the kickstand, “That’s a long story.”

            You smiled softly at that, tapping your wrist.

            “Yeah, yeah, I know. We have all the time in the world, don’t we?”

            Ransom turned away, returning to the chairs but before he could sit, you caught his wrist. His eyes met yours.

            Tell me.

            He sighed, contemplating.

            Please.

            He narrowed his eyes at you, “I’ll make you a deal.”

            You waited.

            “Your voice for a story.”

            Oh. You bit your lip. That was unfair. You dropped his wrist.

            He was quick to catch your own, “Talk to me. I know you can do it.”

            You attempted to step out of his reach, the moment soured, but he held tight.

            “Okay, okay.” Ransom apologized with his eyes, “A kiss then.”

            Before you could either deny or agree with the circumstances, Ransom closed the distance, his hand finding a place on your lower back as he brought his lips to yours. You resisted at first, but quickly found yourself returning the kiss. Ransom deepened it, cupping your cheek as he pressed your bodies together. You felt tears prick at your eyes, your heart & mind battling once again on what was right & what was wrong.

            He ended the kiss, resting his forehead against your own, “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.”

            You couldn’t help the nervous smile that dressed your lips.

            “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

            Ransom continued speaking as you flipped through a family album that traced back nearly 50 decades up until only a few years ago. You learned Ransom was 32. Much older than you, & if the world was spinning like normal, you would’ve never met him, let alone allowed yourself to kiss someone his age. But the end of the world made your age difference insignificant. You had matured well beyond your years & Ransom was trapped in his own within the walls of the mansion.

            “My father was adamant that Worcester would have the answer to the virus. Word had spread in the first year after losing my mother, grandfather, & aunt to the virus. He was determined to travel to Worcester to bring the cure back. He was desperate to save the rest of the Thrombey legacy.”

            You listened intently as Ransom spoke about a man who put his family’s safety first, & who, in the process, would ultimately die because of it. But as you listened, flipping through the family album, you never got that sense from pictures. The only pictures when someone was smiling was when they were a toddler. As they grew, like Ransom, the smiles became fewer & farther between. You had an inkling there was more he was leaving out.

            You wrote on your pad.

            Your family didn’t get along. There was no question mark.

            Ransom read your words before sighing dejectedly, “No. We didn’t. Never did. It got worse when we started dropping like flies.”

            You closed the album to sit back & stare at him, willing him to continue.

            His hand was on your thigh as he spoke, rubbing the fabric of your jeans as he continued with his story.

            “I was against him going. There was no proof. He risked himself & all of us. We fought about it for days.”

            Ransom shook his head, staring aimlessly at the now cooled tea before the two of you.

            “But he went anyways, & my cousin Jacob & Uncle Walt went with him. I stayed with the women, never expecting them to return.”

            You placed your hand around his own against your thigh.

            “Only my father returned. Jacob & Walt got sick somewhere along the way back. And when my father returned… he wasn’t himself.”

            An unsettling feeling formed in your gut before Ransom confirmed your suspicions.

            “He had contracted the virus but it wasn’t the typical symptoms at the time. He assured us he was just malnourished. So, Meg nursed him but there was never really any progress. He became moody, touchy, & more of an asshole than ever. Meg was the next to go, & the first person I blamed was him.”

            Ransom took a deep breath before finishing.

            “My family got along like oil & water. But watching them die one by one right in front of me was not something I ever imagined. It made me angrier than anything I had ever felt before. My dad went to Worcester to find a cure but what he brought back was a new strain of the virus. We were forced to lock him in the basement until he… until…”

            You didn’t need him to complete the sentence.

            “At night we could sometimes hear him breaking whatever he could get his hands on. The new strain added another level of aggression. He was trying to get out, & one night he finally did.”

            Ransom stood up & walked to the windows overlooking the garden. You remained seated but your eyes followed him, briefly landing on the back facing picture frame on the bookshelf.

            “I was forced to put him down. There was nothing left of Joni & Donna after he got his hands on them. They looked like fish food. That was a year ago.”

            Jesus. The gory images of what he might’ve seen flashed through your mind. You had no idea the virus had advanced. In fact, you had never seen anyone suffer from it. You just knew what symptoms to look out for if you ever came across anyone, but Ransom had been the first since the young woman.

            “That’s why I said Worcester is the disease. Whatever my dad brought back from there… it’s just not safe.”

            You nodded solemnly. Ransom returned to you then, sitting on the small coffee table that had the tray of tea on it. He reached for your hands & you let him as he peered into your eyes.

            “Just promise me you’ll never go there. I can’t… lose anyone else. Even you.”

            Your heart lurched. It was a bittersweet feeling.

            You signed your promise. You had no desire to go to Worcester after hearing his story. But how would he react when you would one day leave? That day you feared.

            A couple more weeks passed & the summer heat broke a record as August came. It was too hot to do any gardening during the day, so you & Ransom would often lounge in the shade reading books, your legs draped over his lap. Estate chores were saved for the early morning hours before the sun basked the property in its dewy glow. Once the chores were finished, you & Ransom lived a rather domesticated life day-by-day.

            You took turns cooking & on days when it was your turn, Ransom would often kiss you on the back of your head or hug you gently from behind. Much to your worry, you found yourself leaning into his touches, welcoming them, & only sometimes returning them. He had yet to kiss you again but you knew he wanted to. You saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touches, & heard it in his voice. But you didn’t know how to cross that line for a third time without leading him to believe this would be your life together.

            Only a few days ago did you decide that you would leave for St. Johns when the summer neared it’s end. It would be best to travel when the heat wasn’t so suffocating. But you had yet to tell Ransom, let alone give any hints to it. But you knew the longer you kept from telling him your plans, the harder it would be for him to let you. If he let you go…

            Ransom had grown awfully attached to you, & you couldn’t deny that you had felt the same, but you still stuck to your plans. He would have to live with your decision. But other thoughts kept you up at night when you thought about the near future. Perhaps you could convince him to come with you. You wouldn’t be against traveling with him, in fact, you welcomed the idea. But this was his home. Not just a place he set up shop at. This is where he grew up, lived with his family, then watched them suffer.

            That night you contemplated bringing the topic up as you finished the final touches on dinner. Ransom had caught some fish at the pond less than a quarter mile away. He had brought back two bass to which you immediately got to work while Ransom went & washed up.

            By the time dinner was finished, you placed both your plates at the dining table at one end of the table. It had become routine for you two to sit together while eating. Returning to the kitchen, you gathered two wine glasses & a dusted wine bottle on the counter that Ransom had brought up from the cellar in the basement. He insisted on you never going down there, claiming that because his father had been down there for so long he worried the virus could still have an effect. You knew virus’s didn’t work that way but didn’t argue, you had no desire to go down there anyways.

            Just as you finishing pouring your glasses of wine, Ransom appeared wearing a loose black t & a pair of comfortable jeans. He grinned when he spotted you.

            “Smells amazing.” He approached you & kissed you on your temple.

            You smiled up at him, your nerves growing since you knew you’d have to address your plans for the end of the month. You even had your pad & pen ready beside your plate.

            Ransom put on another record to set the mood before pulling out your chair for you to sit. Once you did, he quickly followed.

            He took the first bite & moaned in delight, “Fuck, I never liked fish but you make it taste divine.”

            The comment made you chuckle softly.

            As you slowly ate your dinner, your eyes kept straying to your pad. When do I tell him?

            But, as if sensing your inner turmoil, you felt fingers on your wrist. Your eyes flew to his. He furrowed his brows, nodding to your pad, “Everything okay?”

            Your lips parted as you mirrored his frown. Slipping your arm out from under his touch, you reached for your source of communication.

            Now or never.

            Just as your pen touched the paper though, a loud pop sounded followed by the record scratching & fading before the lights in the dining room suddenly turned off.

            “Shit.” Ransom gritted out, “The generator.”

            There was no way for you to ask him what was going on in the darkness.

            Ransom’s shadow disappeared into the kitchen before reappearing with a few candles that he lit & placed on the table. He noticed your look of concern & shook his head, “I was down there tinkering with it this morning. It was on it’s last leg & it seems it finally kicked it.”

            ‘What do we do?’, you wrote.

            He sighed, sitting back down to stare blankly at his food.

            “We do nothing. I will go tomorrow.”

            Where? You signed.

            Ransom cocked his head, “My uncle had a vacation home a few towns over. I’ll head over there & see what his generator looks like.”

            A few towns over, you thought. But that would take days.

            ‘I’ll come with you’, you flipped the pad over for him to see.

            “No.” He replied with finality, “I don’t want you out there. Besides, someone needs to stay here to make sure we still have food to eat.”

            You pressed your lips together.

            “I shouldn’t be long. I have a truck a groundskeeper left here when the virus broke out. Still has gas in it since I hardly ever use it. It’ll be quick. Just a day or two.”

            You were grateful that he had a form of transportation, but still. You felt a sense of protection come over you.

            Ransom sensed your disagreement & reached for you, stealing your attention, “I’ll leave in the morning, be back the following night. Unless of course it turns out to be a piece of shit then I might have to venture to other houses. Either way, I won’t be gone long.”

            Your appetite waning, you pushed your plate of food out of the way to scribble frantically.

            ‘I’d feel better going with you.’

            “And I’d feel better if you stayed.” He returned, “Finish your food.”

            There was still so much you wanted to discuss but your hand didn’t move as fast as your thoughts so you conceded.

            “I’ll be alright, _____.” His eyes gazed into your own, “We will be alright. I’m going to take care of you.”

            Thoughts of telling him of your plans would have to wait until he returned. You would be much too stressed over the next couple days worrying about him. When he came back safe & sound, then would you tell him. Then would he have to deal with you leaving. For now, you wanted to enjoy this night with him.

a very long long long awaited chapter seven to Summit!

shit is about to hit the fan for reader & no doomsday prepper can prepare themselves for it.

thank you so much to my readers for their patience & understanding these last couple months. it has meant everything.

as always, thank you for reading!

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. 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: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn’t resist.

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. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

When you’re alone, you’re not free. You are imprisoned in a cell of your own making. Inside your own body. You’re the one who threw that key away so why do you care now? 

You do. You hate that you do. You hate that your phone won’t stop vibrating. And that you know exactly why. 

You turn your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes catch on the sparkle on your nightstand. A gold chain that isn’t yours.

The small medallion has an R on it. What was that name he used? Ransom? Doesn’t sound like a name, at least not one you’d give to anything but a rambunctious dog. 

You open the drawer and shovel the necklace inside. You slam it shut as you stand. You need to get your shit together. First thing, coffee. 

You’ve never been an optimist but you’re grateful Hugh left without you asking. That he didn’t stick around to rub your nose in the mess your made. Speaking of mess. You’ll have to throw your bedding in the wash. Maybe It’s better to burn it. 

Coffee on, a trash bag in hand, you set to overhauling your life. The sheets aren’t the only thing going. Your phone vibrates. The phone call flashes as you ignore it. 

You go back to the bedroom. A faint trace of his cologne lingers. You peel back the corners of the mattress sheet and bunch the rest of the bedding inside. You sheath it in the black plastic and tie it in a knot. 

You drag it out to the garbage chute and shove it until it drops down. You close the door heavily and return to your apartment. You drink the bitter coffee, sweet compared to your current state. You glance t your bedroom door and heave. 

You won’t even bother trying to sleep in there. Just the thought makes you uneasy. He’s ruined your safe place just like he ruined everything else. 

🛏️

The days are gruelling. Before, you didn’t mind being alone. You accepted that sentence, made what you could of it. You had hobbies. Now you don’t have the energy for them. You don’t see the point in them. Just distractions that can’t change your reality. 

Work is the only thing you can focus on. Not because it’s better, because you have to. It’s not the best job but you pay your own bills. You don’t have to rely on someone else to survive. You have yourself. It’s all you’ve ever really had.

How stupid you were to think you could ever have anything else? That someone could ever really want to have you. 

Hugh doesn’t want you. You’re not stupid. He wants to get off. It’s an ego thing or some sick fucking kink. How many guys did you hear say that ‘ugly girls are the fucking best in bed’ or ‘you can make an ugly girl do anything’. 

On your lunch, Vivica calls you. You answer if only to keep another notification from piling up. 

“Sup?” You ask dully as you break a cracker and let it crumble. 

“Oh, you know, wondering why I haven’t heard from you.” 

“Work. Busy,” you answer. You wait for a response. You cringe and make yourself speak. “What about you? What’s going on?” 

“Worried about you,” she insists. “You hate work.” 

“Sure do but it’s not really optional,” you shrug. “How was your night out?” 

“Which one? You haven’t been around.” 

You sigh, “are you mad at me?” 

“No, like I said. Worried.” She clicks her tongue, “look, that guy Curtis, he told me you’re not answering him either.” 

“And who gave you permission to give him my number?” You challenge as your scalp bristles. 

“Why didn’t you tell us about him?” 

You roll your eyes. “Well, obviously, it’s not working out so... that’s why. Same old.” 

“Seems like it could work out if you gave him a chance. He sounded pretty interested.” 

“It’s my choice,” you retort defensively. “It’s not the right fit.” 

“Cool,” she says sharply. “Sorry if I’m nosy but you haven’t told us anything about it. Or him. Or whatever is going on with you.” 

You close your eyes as they sting. You’re annoyed. You don’t want to talk about. You’re dying just to stop thinking about it. 

“Viv, you’re a good friend but you can give it up already. I’m a fucking loser and guys just aren’t that into me,” you sniff. 

“So why would he be asking about you?” 

“Please. Don’t act like you don’t know. I mean, that was a great birthday present. Probably preferable to the real thing. And I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not,” you scoff. “And no one has to pretend for me. It works perfectly.” 

“Oh, that was... everyone has toys. It wasn’t meant to be anything but fun.” 

“Sure, give the loser virgin some silicone so she can loosen up,” you spit. “You know what, I gotta get back to work.” 

She hesitates to answer, “fine. That sounds like a good idea. You're sooo busy so don’t waste your time on me. Bye.” 

“Yeah, bye.” 

You pull the phone from your cheek and tap the end button. You dab under your eyes then lean your face into your hands. Stop it. Don't be so stupid.

It wasn’t anything at all. You and Curtis. And obviously, Vivica only wanted to poke around. She probably can’t stand the idea of not having a disaster like you around to make her feel better. 

You’re just fine. You’re okay. You’re better off alone. Better for everyone that way. 

💔

Your apartment is overcrowded with the fog left behind by his intrusion. You can’t escape the stain he left on your existence. No matter how you try.

The showers don’t work. Even the bottle of wine you bought in desperation only took you back to the night at the hotel. Sleep isn’t an escape when you can’t close your eyes for more than five minutes. It’s all just meaningless. 

Everything you do is a farce. Pointless. Wake up, for what? Go to work, for what? Come home? Home?! Is that what you call this fetid place? 

A week. A week of ignoring the phone and that tick in the back of your head. A week of hearing a knock at the door that isn’t real. Of seeing shadows that aren’t there. 

Another day at your desk. Alone, despite the cubicles that pen you in, the buzz of voices on headsets, the clacking of keys, the clicking and scrolling. The trance of your denial stretches on. Your mind is not connected to the rest of you. Your fingers type without thought and your voice rises according to a script you recite by rote. 

“Hm, do you think the single king is better or the double queen?” The woman on the phone asks. You let out a sigh without censor. It’s the sixth time she’s gone back and forth. Each time you change the reservation type, you have to enter all the other details again. 

“It’s up to you, ma’am,” you utter. 

“I’m just thinking if maybe one of us wants to stay out a bit longer...” she hums. 

“I don’t care,” you blurt out and cringe. 

“Pardon?” She huffs. 

“Sorry, ma’am, nothing. Someone else was talking to me--” 

“No, no, that was extremely rude.” 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, okay?” 

“Really, because you don’t sound very sorry,” she snaps. 

You aren’t. You stay quiet. Shit. 

“I would like a manager.” She sneers. 

“Of course,” you tap hold and transfer her through. No point being upset, there’s worse things in the world. You would know. 

You take off your headset. It’s almost the end of the day anyway. You get up and refill your bottle at the fountain. There’s little expediency in your task. You’ll do one more call then clock out. 

As you return to your desk, Mallory approaches. You look up as she flips up her cat-eye glasses. You already know what she’s here about. 

“Would you like to come back and get your write-up or should I just email it over?” She asks sharply. 

You don’t care. You’ll take the flag. After five years of working there and not a blemish on your record, what’s one? You shrug. 

“Whatever works is fine with me.” 

She narrows her eyes, “problem?” 

“Nope,” you put your headset on. “Phone’s ringing.” 

You tap the answer button and swivel away from her. She puffs and stomps and walks away. You go through the usual, this time navigating the booking without issue. It’s a lot easier when people know what they want. 

You save the reservation and sign off. You just want to go to the apartment and shut your brain off. You can’t keep wondering when and if this ever stops.  

You pull on your jacket and hike up your bag. You skip the elevator and take the stairs, not wanting to bear the tedious elevator ride with people you only know by obligation. You stride out the doors ahead of a straggling group but your escape from the corporate purgatory doesn’t free you. 

You put your head down and turn along the street. You don’t get far before you hear your name. At first, you ignore it, certain that you misheard. When it comes again in that familiar voice, you groan and stop. You face Curtis reluctantly. 

“Oh, hi,” you utter dryly. 

“Yeah, hi,” he matches your tone. “You know, I’ve been texting. Calling.” 

“I’ve been busy. Work.” Your eyes stray without meaning to. 

“Is that it? Work? I’ve been worried. You couldn’t just send a courtesy text?” 

You shake your head and shrug. You can’t look at him. Then you have to face everything. 

“What did I do?” He steps closer and you back up. You roll your eyes as they burn and gesture apathetically. 

“Nothing.” 

He sighs, “I thought we were going good. I thought—I don’t get it. I don’t get you.” 

“Ha, alright,” you scoff. “Why on earth would you want to be with me?” 

“Huh?” 

“Oh, come on. Clearly, I’m a fucking loser. So, what was it? You wanted to fuck the virgin and go back and brag to all your buddies?” You sneer and stare past his shoulder. 

“No, that never mattered to me. Guess you think I’m the loser,” he retorts. 

You shrug again. 

“What is your problem? What the hell?” He gets even closer. “Something... something happened.” 

“Nothing happened,” you try to look at him and wince. You’re going to be sick if you do. “I’m not even a virgin so... big loss.” 

“That’s not--” he sputters. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“No--” 

“Don’t say nothing--” 

“Nothing,” you snarl and step back. “You don’t want to be with me and I’m not going to pretend.” 

You spin and go to march forward. You stop short before you can race away. Curtis rams into your back as he goes to follow. He grabs your arms lightly as he steps back. You stare dumbly at the figure strutting toward you. 

Hugh smirks as he waves and you pull away from Curtis. You turn toward the street and stumble back as a car honks, coming close to the curb as you do. You’re yanked back again, this time harder. 

“Christ, you’re going to get hurt--” Curtis says, his voice overridden by another. 

Hugh whistles and calls your name again, “hey, baby.” 

You close your eyes as you try to hide from reality. Your feet won’t move, or your arms. You stand there, shaking as his footsteps echo over the sidewalk. Curtis lets you go. 

“Oh,” he utters. 

“Hey, where ya going?” You’re grabbed from the other side and you wrench away from Hugh, spinning to face both of them as your eyes snap open. 

“Right,” Curtis says grimly. You finally look at him as his eyes scale the other man. 

“Who’s this?” Hugh asks as he reaches for you again. 

“No, go away. Both of you.” 

“Ah, come on, baby, haven’t seen you since the weekend. That was lots of fun,” he winks. “Late night.” 

Curtis shifts and tilts his head. He glares at Hugh as his hands furl and unfurl. Your legs quake dangerously. 

“I said go,” you hiss. 

“I think you owe us an explanation,” Curtis says evenly. His cadence is worse than anger, it’s hurt. 

“I can explain but not with him here.” 

“You’ll talk now that you’ve been caught, huh?” He looks at you and you recoil. 

“Never mind,” you say. “Whatever you think it is, that’s what it is.” 

He stares at you, his chest rising and falling. 

“Oh, yeah, we’re fuck buddies,” Hugh interjects. “She gets bored and well, I can’t say no. She's feral. She begs me--” 

“Shut up!” You bark at him. 

“I mean, I���m not complaining. It’s an open sorta deal but seems like maybe there’s a few things she didn’t mention to you, pal,” he continues. 

“He’s not--” you turn back to Curtis, “he’s not that. He isn’t. He’s a mistake.” 

“Oh, a mistake? Was I a mistake when you were cumming all over me--” 

You spin and shove him as hard as you can. “Fuck off!”  

He grabs your arms and you wrestle with him. You stagger around under his strength before you’re nearly bowled over completely. Curtis jabs him in the chest and inserts himself between the two of you. You rub your forearm as you stare at his back. 

“She said go.” 

“To you,” Hugh scoffs. 

“No, you. Get out of here,” he squares his shoulders. 

“I’m not afraid of you. I mean, it’s pretty fucking pathetic to defend that slut after she--” 

Curtis doesn’t hesitate. His arm cocks and swings so quickly, you don’t realise what happened until the crack and the other man’s grunt. Hugh retreats as you look around Curtis. He cradles his jaw as you stay hidden behind the other. 

“Don’t fucking call her that.” He growls. 

“Fucking simp,” Hugh spits blood onto the sidewalk. “You really gonna be cucked like that? When I had her on my dick like a glove--” 

You notice the crowd gathering near the front of the building. You recognise a few of your coworkers. As Curtis steps forward, you catch his arm. 

“Please, he’s not worth it.” 

“You are,” Curtis insists. 

“Curtis,” you squeeze his sleeve. You don’t want him to get hurt by you. Not more than he already is. “I’ll tell you everything. Please.” 

He takes a breath and lets it out slow. Hugh straightens and pinches his nose, “I’d kick your fucking ass if I wasn’t wearing prada,” he keeps his head back and turns away, “prick.” He stops and glances back, “don’t worry, baby. You’ll see me around... you’ll feel me.” 

Curtis sways as if he might go after him but thinks better of it. You let him go and wring the strap of your bag as you watch him. You're hollow. You don’t think you can tell him everything. 

“Tell me then,” he throws an arm out and turns to you. 

“I...” you look around. “Not here.” 

His jaw grits and he exhales heavily, “fine, where?” 

“Uh... we could... there’s a juice place nearby. It’s never busy.” 

“Sure,” he pushes his shoulders up. 

You look down and turn away. You’re melting in horror. He hates you. You feel it roiling off of him. Your only hope is that he hasn’t walked away. Not yet. He could’ve made this easier and just not have shown up at all. 

You enter the juice bar. “I’ll get something so they don’t kick us out.” 

He sniffs and sidles past you. He goes to the table in the corner. You go up to the counter. The employees are chattering in the lull. You pay for a bottled kombucha then retreat to the table. 

You climb up on the seat. He stares past you at the window. His fingers tap on the table. Your lips part and his gaze darts over to you. 

“Well?” He growls. 

You shudder. How do you say it? Don’t explain, just say it. Once he knows, it won’t matter what excuses you have. He’ll go and you’ll be left with a bottle of fermented juice you don’t even like. Maybe this is how it gets better. Just end it. 

“He’s a prostitute.” 

He twitches and narrows his eyes, “what?” 

“Hugh, that guy. I hired him to fuck me.” You say it a bit too plainly and grimace. “Look, I was... the first time was before me and you... but I...” your eyes burn and you flick them to the ceiling. “I don’t know why I’m even trying to save anything. I was desperate. For anything. I went online, I found an escort, and I paid half my savings for the worst night of my life.” 

“First time?” He plucks out the words. There’s the twist of the dagger. 

“He showed up again. I... I’m not going to relive it just so you can ditch me so, please, that’s all you need to know. I’m a sad little woman who paid to get rid of her virginity. At thirty years old. Yeah, yeah, that’s why I know you don’t want to be with me.” 

You look at the table, hoping you might become a part of it. That you’ll fade into the air and be nothing. Feel nothing. He’s quiet. The low murmur of music grows to a cacophony as you await the inevitable. 

“You didn’t want to?” He asks at last. 

You rub your cheek, eyes glued to the table. “I did it, that’s what matters.” 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“What-- what was I supposed to say?” 

“Anything. Something. You could’ve just answered me,” he reaches across the table, past the bottle of unwanted kombucha. Like you, dejected and disgusting. “Hey...” 

“I have the texts. And I can show you the deposit, if you really don’t think I’m that stupid,” you plunge your hand into your bag as you talk. You take it out and tap around. 

“Look at me,” he pleads. 

“Really, it’s right here--” you flick your thumbs and open WhatsApp, “the messages—wait? No. My account...” you thumb around and drag down the menu from the top. You search your notifications. ‘Account Deleted due to misuse report’. No... 

“It’s gone,” you drop your phone on the table. “I have no proof--” 

“I said look at me,” he repeats, grittier than before. 

You quiver and make yourself obey. You look at him as he leans to reach further across, “I believe you.” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you? Look at me. I have to pay for it--” 

“Stop,” he commands. “I want you to stop that. Now.” 

“It’s true--” 

“I don’t care about him. About a stupid mistake. Shit happens. I’ve made mistakes too,” he wiggles his hand. “If I didn’t like you, do you think I’d be here?” 

You peek down at his hand. His knuckles are bruised. You frown and daintily touch his fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“He deserved it,” he turns his hand and clasps onto yours. “Want me to kill him?” 

You look at him again and furrow your brow, “stop, I don’t feel like laughing.” 

His expression is grey. Serious. For a moment, you really think he means it. Then he squeezes your hand and his face eases. 

“I had to try,” he mutters. 

You don’t know what to do. You’re entirely unprepared for this. You didn’t expect to see him again, let alone for him to just forgive you for ignoring him, lying to him, or for just being you. 

“You wanna come over?” He asks. 

“Oh, um... I don’t know.” 

“I hope you don’t think I’m like him. I’m not asking for that. I think you maybe you shouldn’t go home,” he explains. “Not after—he seems like the type to hold a grudge, doesn’t he?” 

“Uh, oh, yeah.” 

He's right. Hugh came back after he got his money. Why wouldn't he show up again?

“And we don’t have to watch scary movies. Maybe something less... anxiety-inducing for now,” he offers. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you breathe as the weight slightly lifts from your chest. Is this how it goes? Do people just work things out? 

“But I wouldn’t mind a little bit of cuddling...” he looks around evasively, “if you can keep it secret.” 

You smile. For the first time since you last saw him. “Oh, I’m great at secrets, aren’t I?” 

“As long as that’s the only one you keep,” he replies, his tone hanging ominously over you. You can’t quite tell if it’s a joke or a threat. 

🩶

Curtis takes you back to your apartment. He waits at the door, his paranoia feeding your own. Does he really think Hugh would come back that soon? Yet, what has he done to make you think otherwise? The fact he came back at all is scary on its own. 

You grab only a few things. Something to sleep in and an outfit for the next day, along with your phone charger and a few necessities to keep yourself human. You don’t look back as you leave. You’re happy to be away, if only for a while. 

At his place, you’re restless. You don’t want to be. You’re exhausted. The days filled with anticipation of the world shattering around has turned to the fatigue of fallout.  

“You good?” He asks as he drags his palm over his stubbly hair. 

“Good,” you lie. 

“He can’t get you here.” 

You nod and hum. 

“But that’s not what you’re worried about,” he says. 

“Why... not to sound ungrateful but why... why?” 

“You know, a lot of guys might get tired of having to repeat themselves but if I gotta tell ya every day how much I like you, so be it. As long as you’re there to hear it.” 

You nudge him without thinking and he tilts his head. 

“Sorry, it’s just... you don’t look like the cheesy type.” 

“Not cheesy. Honest.” 

That word stings. It could be nothing but it almost feels like a lash. You weren’t. You lied. You ran away. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” you turn away. 

“You don’t gotta. I’m just... checking. You hungry? I could get us some pizza.” 

“Oh,” you think about it but not very long as your stomach growls. You can’t remember if you had anything but coffee. 

“Is that a yes? What do you like? Anchovies girl, I know it.” 

You scrunch up your face and he snorts, “I don’t know what’s sexier,” he drawls. “Your smile or the way you look when you’re annoyed.” 

You roll your eyes, “stop.” 

“Stop what?” 

“I’m not... sexy,” you look away. 

“You are,” he insists. 

“No... I...” 

“Let’s see; eyes, gorgeous. Lips, delicious, and the way your booty kinda...” he traces with his fingers and your cheeks set alight. 

“Curtis,” you gasp. 

“A guy can’t help but notice. I also love a thrill and you scare me. Just a little,” he smirks. “So, toppings? Not anchovies.” 

“Hot peppers and whatever you like.” 

“Spicy. I knew it,” he proclaims. 

“Ugh, stop being so lame,” you chirp. 

“You first,” he throws back. “Go, get cozy. I’ll order.” 

You nod and give a sheepish smile, or an attempt at one. You take your bag into the front room and take out your pajamas. You go into the bathroom and lock yourself in. You sit on the edge of the tub and try to set yourself straight. 

There’s a glimmer of disbelief in you. It’s too good to be true. Did you really find a good one? 

You change as his voice drones from the other side of the door then quiets. You can’t shake that uneasiness that keeps you precarious. You still can’t trust that it won’t all break. 

You come out with your clothes under your arm, sure not to make too much noise. You tiptoe down and peek into the front room. Curtis stands with his back to you, by the chair where you left your bag. You creep up behind him and lean to see what he’s doing. 

At first you assume it’s his phone but the charm on the phone case assures you otherwise. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

He doesn’t startle. He merely faces you and clutches the phone tight. His knuckles strain and you look between his eyes and the cell. 

“Curtis?” 

“He’s texting you again.” 

“How? He deleted the conversation,” you try to see the phone and he holds it away from you. “Hey, give me the phone--” 

“Burner, I bet,” he backs away and puts his attention back to the screen. “Oldest trick in the book.” 

“Just block the number,” you say as you follow but he stays beyond your grasp. “Turn the phone off. It’s not--” 

“You have to promise,” he rears on you and you stagger. 

“Promise?” 

“To tell me. If, when he messages or calls or anything. I have to know.” 

“You don’t think—I don’t want him around.” 

“I know you don’t. I want to keep him away.” He insists. 

“Right, but--” 

“And you did lie to me. If I didn’t find out today, what’s to say he didn’t hurt you? If you really don’t want him around, it sounds like maybe you’re scared of him. Like he did more than you’re telling me--” 

“Curtis, I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you swallow. 

“Neither do I. Do you think I like it? Thinking about you with someone else?” 

You whimper, “I thought... I thought... it was okay.” 

“I’m not...” he scratches his jaw, the friction coarse and loud. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to move forward and if we’re going to do that, he can’t be around. Ever. And you can’t lie. That includes not telling me things.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I...” you avert your eyes guiltily. “I’ll never forgive myself.” 

He exhales and lowers the phone. He comes closer and holds it out to you. You take it without looking at him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I just... I got worked up when I saw what he sent.” He opens his arms, “come here.” 

He pulls you against him, your head on his shoulder. He holds you like that. You shiver against him. 

“What did he send?” You croak. 

“I’m sure you can guess the kind of nasty things he said,” he pets your head. “I got rid of it. And if he shows his face, I’ll get rid of him too.” 

You wrap your arms around him but find little comfort in his embrace. Something about his tone unsettles you. Get rid of him... He sounds like he means it. Like more than just blocking his number. How well do you really know him? 

[eccentricallygothic]

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

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

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

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

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

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

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

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

Of course, he wants you to say it.

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

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

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

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

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

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does that when he is horny. 

The realization makes your stomach twist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, hubby.” 

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

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

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

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

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

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