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darsynia · 2 months ago

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Oh man the 'the publishers opened it up' is such the most cynical and hopeful combo of things, like... way to start with a BANG

I like the way the physical setting is also a character in this.

two yearssssss

Oh man I'd want to walk away from that tbh, everyone would think it was Ransom's influence that got me published :| Then again, who wants to listen to Ransom! Okay I have decided to REALLY hope that the Reader is going to seek to use him with as much callousness as they plan to use her...

Oh snap they DESPERATE

Yeah okay I would a hundred percent do it lol

If he murdered you, at least you would have paid off your student loans, credit card debts, provided for your parents’ retirement, and put away enough money in a trust for your nephew’s college fund.

no but the way this is actually how i would think at the time AND how Ransom would deserve to be thought of

Oof that evocative overheard scene is fab, and the 'meeting each other' beforehand was spot on IMO. Overall the cold, calculated start balanced sooo well with the too-intimate eavesdropping at the end, very Thanos with the knife! Both (not a complaint) go on a little longer than you expect and linger for a while afterwards. Loved it!

Between the Lines

Characters/Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x curvy female!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Summary: When presented with a deal you can't resist, you agree to to create an illusion so you can achieve your actual dreams.

Content/Warnings: masturbation, slow burn, forced proximity, fake engagement, annoyed/disgusted to lovers

Notes: This takes place after the events of Knives Out. Yes, all of the movie. No exclusions. Dividers by @vesearartistry and @saradika. My humble offering for week seven of my Countdown to Chris-mas. Thank you @stargazingfangirl18 and @biteofcherry for both indulging some of my plot-talking for this fic!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You sat nervously in the lobby of Blood Like Wine Publishing watching the gears behind the glass display on the elegant clock above the reception desk.

Up until the death of Harlan Thrombey, the publishing house had published his works exclusively with a new murder mystery being produced and translated into dozens of languages each year like clockwork, the gears and cogs a well-tested as the antique clock on display.

With no Harlan, the publishing house had opened to submissions and you and your agent had made it through the initial rounds of querying and contract negotiations.

But now, only a year and a half after the prolific genius’s death and transfer of ownership to his nurse and friend Marta Cabrera, Marta had sold to a new owner - yet to go public in name, and they had asked for a meeting before finalizing the contract.

You tried not to fidget as you gripped the leather armrests of the chair, willing the minutes to pass faster. The lobby was eerily quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clacking of the keyboard from the receptionist's desk. The walls were adorned with framed book covers, each one a testament to Harlan Thrombey's literary legacy. You couldn't help but wonder if your own work would ever grace these halls.

As you waited, your mind raced with possibilities. Who was this mysterious new owner? What did they want? Your agent had assured you that this was just a formality, but the knot in your stomach suggested otherwise. You found yourself studying the intricate patterns in the marble floor, tracing the veins of gold and silver that snaked through the stone like the plot twists in one of Thrombey's novels.

Just as the clock struck ten, the elevator dinged, and a tall woman with perfectly coiffed short white hair strode out, her heels clicking authoritatively on the polished marble floor. She paused at the receptionist's desk, speaking in hushed tones before turning her piercing gaze towards you.

"I assume you’re my ten o’clock?" she questioned, her voice sharp and commanding.

You suppressed a gasp and abruptly stood, smoothing your clothes nervously as you approached none other than Linda Drysdale - the legendary daughter of Harlan.

"Yes, that's me.”

She gave you a once-over, then nodded. “Come with me.”

You followed Linda into the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest. The mirrored walls reflected your nervous expression back at you, and you tried to school your features into something more confident. Linda stood beside you, her posture perfect. In contrast to you, she seemed entirely at ease, tapping away at her phone with manicured nails.

When the doors opened, you stepped out into a hallway lined with dark wood paneling and more framed book covers. Linda's office was at the end, a massive space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The room was dominated by an imposing desk made of rich mahogany, its surface neat and organized.

"Please, sit," Linda said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk. As you settled in, she moved to a small bar cart in the corner. "Can I offer you a drink? Perhaps some whiskey? A gin and tonic? Coffee? Tea?"

You shook your head, politely declining. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

Linda shrugged, pouring herself a generous measure of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. "Suit yourself," she said, returning to her desk and settling into her high-backed leather chair. She took a sip, savoring the whiskey before fixing you with her piercing gaze once more.

"I've read your manuscript," she began, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk's polished surface. "It's intriguing. You have potential, there's no denying that."

Your heart swelled with pride at her words, but you remained silent, sensing there was more to come.

Linda leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm prepared to offer you a book deal. A three-book contract, to be precise. The advance is generous, and the royalties - well, let's just say they're enough to make even my father's ghost smile."

You felt a surge of excitement, but something in Linda's tone made you hesitate. There was a glint in her eye, a slight curl to her lip that suggested there was more to this offer than met the eye.

"However," she continued, swirling the whiskey in her glass, "there is one small condition."

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "What kind of condition?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Linda smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You see, my father liked to play games. In his will, he left us with one final trick. I don’t know how much of this you heard or followed in the news, but he left us nothing - his cash and assets, our home, and this publishing house all went to Marta Cabrera, his nurse at the time of his death.”

You would have been hard-pressed to have missed the news because it had spilled over into scandal.

“I don’t expect to see the sixty million, and that’s tough, but I can live with that - I’ve made my own fortune, and neither Walt and his family nor my sister-in-law and her daughter need to continue suckling off the teat of dad’s treasury. The house still hurts, but I’ll get it back - I can bide my time. But this? It only took me eighteen months of patience and strategy, working through subsidiaries and intermediaries, to close the deal on getting Blood Like Wine back in the family where it belongs.”

“I will go public with my ownership by the end of the week,” she continued, “but for better and for worse, the acquisition has ended up coinciding with my son’s pending release from prison.”

“Ransom?”

Linda nodded, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before disappearing behind her composed facade. "Yes, Ransom. As you can imagine, his... indiscretions have caused quite a stir in our family and social circles."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure where this was leading.

"My son made mistakes, grievous ones. But he's served enough time, and now he needs a chance to redeem himself. That's where you come in."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand, Mrs. Drysdale. What does this have to do with my book deal?"

"The condition," she explained, her voice taking on a steely edge, "is that you convincingly pose as his sweet-as-a-peach fiancé for two years.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Ransom Drysdale, the man who had attempted to murder Marta Cabrera and frame her for Harlan's death, and she expected you to agree to this? You stared at Linda in disbelief, and the silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of an antique clock on the bookshelf behind her.

"I... I don't know what to say," you finally managed, voice a little weak in your shock.

Linda leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of whiskey. "It's quite simple, really. You play the role of Ransom's devoted fiancée, help rehabilitate his image, and in return, you get your book deal. Three books, a substantial advance, and the backing of one of the most prestigious publishing houses in the industry.”

"But... Ransom... he tried to kill someone. He went to prison. How could I possibly-"

"Details," Linda waved her hand dismissively. "The public has a short memory. With the right narrative, we can reshape Ransom's image. A reformed bad boy, humbled by his time in prison, now devoted to his charming fiancée and ready to contribute positively to society. We both know the power of a well-crafted story. People will believe anything."

You felt your head spinning. This was so far beyond what you had expected when you'd nervously entered the building this morning. "And what does Ransom think about this plan?" you asked, grasping for any semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

Linda's lips curved into a tight smile. "Ransom will do as he's told if he wants to maintain his lifestyle and eventually inherit his share of the family fortune. He knows the stakes."

You sat there, stunned. The offer was tempting - a three-book deal with Blood Like Wine Publishing was beyond your wildest dreams. But to fake an engagement with a convicted criminal? It seemed insane.

"I understand your hesitation," Linda said, her voice softening slightly. "But consider this: you'd have unprecedented access to our family. Think of the material for your future novels. The inside scoop on one of America's most infamous families. Isn't that what every mystery writer dreams of?"

You had to admit, she had a point. The Thrombey-Drysdale saga was the stuff of legend in literary circles. To be on the inside, to see how they really lived and interacted? That alone could draw readers in if they thought there was any chance you’d pull threads and weave it into your future novels.

And besides, this was your dream: a multi-book deal with a prestigious publisher, the chance to see your work in print, and to potentially become not only a published author but one who with Blood Like Wine’s name and marketing department could be a truly successful author. How could you pass it all up?

“What would you say to four books?”

You blinked, taken aback by Linda's sudden offer. "Four books?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Linda nodded, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Four books. And we'll double the advance. Consider it... hazard pay." She chuckled softly at her own joke.

Your breath caught in your throat. Four books? The offer was even more tempting now, dangling before you like a golden carrot. You found yourself leaning in, drawn into Linda's web despite your better judgment.

"I... I don't know," you stammered, your mind racing. "This is all so sudden. What exactly would be expected of me?"

Linda's smile widened, sensing your wavering resolve. "Nothing too taxing, I assure you. Attend some charity galas, be seen at upscale restaurants, perhaps a carefully orchestrated paparazzi shot or two. We'll craft a beautiful love story for the press - how Ransom found redemption through your unwavering support and love."

You nodded slowly, uncertainty swirling more strongly, gut churning because you were actually considering this. You could do public appearances…

“A year and a half,” you countered.

Linda shook her head firmly. “No, I won’t budge on the time commitment. Two years is a bankable amount of time to make sure we turn enough pages to fully close this chapter. But I’ll give you six books.”

Your heart leapt at that, and even though your gut was uneasy, your brain was shouting that this kind of deal was something you could not refuse. “Six books, and the first two released before the engagement period is over.”

“Deal,” Linda agreed.

You took a deep breath, your mind reeling from the enormity of what you had just agreed to. Six books. A multi-million dollar deal. And all you had to do was pretend to be engaged to a convicted criminal for two years. It seemed surreal, like something out of one of - well not one of Harlan's novels, but whatever romance author was currently trending.

"I think I will have that drink now," you said, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

Linda's smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "I find a good whiskey helps smooth over even the most unusual of business deals."

You nodded, watching as she selected a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. The soft clink of glass on glass filled the room as she poured a generous measure into a tumbler. The rich, peaty aroma of the whiskey wafted towards you, promising warmth and liquid courage.

Linda returned, extending the glass to you. Your fingers wrapped around the cool crystal and your eyes met Linda's. There was a moment of silent understanding between you - a recognition of the Faustian bargain you had just crafted and agreed to.

As you raised the glass to your lips, Linda's voice cut through the silence. "One more thing," she said, her tone casual but her gaze intense. "I'll up the advance to five million if you agree to move in with Ransom."

Your GPS led you to the top of a cul-de-sac in the Brown’s Wood neighborhood of Lincoln, Massachusetts. Beautiful trees and a typical New England landscape ushered you up the drive to the midcentury modern home owned by Hugh Ransom Drysdale. It didn’t scream home, but there was no denying it was a stunning feat of architecture - white walls and black roofing framing a structure of mostly floor-to-ceiling windows.

You sat in your car for a moment, gathering your courage. The enormity of what you had agreed to in Linda’s office had been sinking in all week, but this was it. Five million dollars. Six books. And two years of your life pretending to be engaged to - and now living with - a man who had attempted murder.

Maybe approaching all of this as if it was one big plot so of course it had to all work out was a ridiculous coping strategy, but it’s the one you had adopted.

But when the seven-figure advance had appeared in your bank account, giving you more money than you had earned in your entire life, you didn’t have it in you to back out.

The house loomed before you, a monument to wealth and taste that felt utterly alien. With a deep breath, you grabbed your bags from the passenger seat and made your way to the front door.

Before you could even ring the bell, the door swung open, revealing Ransom Drysdale himself.

He was taller than you expected, his presence filling the doorway. His piercing blue eyes scanned you from head to toe, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you're the lucky lady my mother's picked out for me," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at his tone but forced a smile. "And you must be the charming ex-convict I've agreed to shackle myself to," you replied, matching his sarcasm with your own. "Can we consider the awkward introductions done now?"

Ransom's smirk widened into a grin, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I like you already. Come on in, darling," he said, stepping aside to let you in. "Welcome to Hill House Drysdale. Try not to get too attached - I hear it's only a two-year lease."

You stepped into the house, immediately struck by the minimalist decor and open floor plan. The entire back wall was glass, offering a stunning view of the surrounding woods. It was beautiful, but cold - much like its owner, you mused.

The house was a stark contrast to the warmth of the Thrombey mansion you'd seen in news reports. This place was all clean lines, minimalist furniture, and an abundance of glass and steel.

"Nice place," you commented, setting your bags down. "I half expected to see crime scene tape and chalk outlines."

Ransom's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Sorry to disappoint. I save all my murdering for the family estate. This is my sanctuary."

You couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at his dark humor. At least he wasn't trying to pretend this was anything other than what it was - a business arrangement.

"So, where should I put my things?" you asked, gesturing to your bags. Some of your things had been sent off to a storage unit, but the things a moving consultant had determined would come here with you had been packed up and moved earlier in the day.

"The master suite is upstairs," Ransom said, closing the door behind you. "Stay out unless you’re embarking on a conjugal visit.”

You scoffed. “Charming.”

He winked at you, then began to take you through the house. “Other than that, you’re free to roam the house, and I’ll stay out of your space. Living room here,” he gestured around, then walked to the right, and you followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen. “Two Bosch ovens, a six-burner range, your choice of pretty much any appliance in one of these cupboards.”

“You cook?”

It was his turn to scoff. “God, no.”

He walked you through the length of it, coming out on the other end of the living room, and then walking through a dining room with a long black table and another two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ransom didn’t strike you as one for entertaining dinner parties, making this more of a feature room than anything else.

At the other end, you came to a new wing of the house.

“This is you,” he said simply. “First door office, second is your bedroom and bathroom.”

You hesitated at the transition point from the dining room to the other side of the house.

“What is it?” Ransom asked, turning and putting his hands on his hips impatiently.

“Linda said a contractor would be brought in to install a door and security system.”

“She said could, and you’ve got locks installed, but I own this house, installing a wall and door here is more invasive than I was willing to agree to, and since she’s a real estate mogul she conceded it would altar the property value.”

“I…”

“You can relax. I’m not likely to try to murder you - the memory of the inconvenience of being incarcerated will probably last for twenty-four to thirty-six months, putting you in the clear.”

You frowned.

“They’re nice rooms, state of the art locks, you’ll be fine,” he reiterated, rolling his eyes. “Digital reinforced with an analog component that you’ll have the only keys to.”

He tossed you a keychain with three keys, which you were quick to catch.

“Downstairs there’s another living room that’ll be for you exclusively and a laundry room.”

“So, you’ll be coming through here to do laundry then?” you asked.

“Cute of you to think I do my own laundry.”

Now it was you who had an eye roll to give.

"Speaking of, all your stuff was delivered safe and sound, but I took the liberty of having some clothes delivered for you. Can't have my fiancée looking like a struggling writer when we're out in public."

You bristled at his comment. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Ransom's eyes raked over you, his gaze lingering a bit too long for comfort. "Let's just say they don't exactly scream 'trophy wife of a reformed bad boy billionaire.'"

You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself of the substantial paycheck waiting for you at the end of this charade. "Fine. When is the first public outing?"

Ransom checked his watch, a sleek, expensive-looking timepiece that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. "We have a charity gala tomorrow night. My dear mother thought it would be the perfect opportunity to debut our 'relationship' to society."

Your stomach twisted with anxiety. Tomorrow night? That was so soon. You weren't prepared for this.

“Last thing,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Here’s your ring.”

Ransom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. As he opened it, your breath caught in your throat. Nestled inside was a ring that could only be described as breathtaking.

The center stone was a flawless oval-cut diamond, easily 3 carats, that seemed to capture and refract every bit of light in the room. It was held in place by a delicate setting adorned with two smaller diamonds on either side. Each facet of the ring sparkled with an intensity that was almost hypnotic.

"This," Ransom said, his voice uncharacteristically warm, "is a family heirloom. It belonged to my great-grandmother, passed down through the generations. My mother insisted I give it to you."

He carefully removed the ring from its velvet nest and held it out.

You reached for it, holding it delicately and studying it more closely.

“And I am going to insist that you wear it continually,” he added, tone back to its normal bite, “none of this on and off business. We’re engaged and there’s no reason to risk a slip up forgetting to put it on before you leave the house.”

The weight of it in your hand felt significant, both physically and metaphorically. This wasn't just any engagement ring - it was a piece of Thrombey family history.

"It's... stunning," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ransom's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something - pride? nostalgia? - passing across his face. "It is, isn't it?" he said, his sarcastic tone momentarily abandoned again. "My great-grandfather proposed with that ring after returning from the war. It's seen its fair share of family drama."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I bet it has."

Ransom cleared his throat, his mask of indifference sliding back into place. "Well, go on then. Put it on.”

"Are you sure about this?" you asked cautiously. "Shouldn't a family heirloom go to someone real?"

Ransom's expression hardened slightly. "I’m hardly that sentimental. This arrangement is real enough for my mother, and it's real enough for me. Besides," he added with a sardonic smile, "you're as close to family as I'm likely to get these days."

With a deep breath, you slipped it onto your left ring finger. The final symbol of the elaborate charade you had chosen to undertake.

It was near midnight, and you were worn out and nearly ready to collapse into your bed. The movers had done most of the work, but you still had had some unpacking to take care of and moved the furniture around in your bedroom and the room that would be your office. After giving you the engagement ring, Ransom had left you alone the rest of the day.

You padded quietly through the dining room that connected the two halves of the house to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle before bed.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way through the darkened rooms. Moonlight filtered through the expansive windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. You tried to move silently, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night or alert Ransom to your presence.

As you entered the kitchen, the cool tile against your bare feet sent a small shiver up your spine. You fumbled for a moment, searching for the light switch, but decided against it. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the soft glow from the windows was enough to navigate by.

You had just placed your water bottle under the refrigerator's filtered, letting the cool water splash into your bottle, when another sound caught your attention.

At first, it was barely perceptible - a faint, rhythmic creaking from upstairs. You froze, straining your ears. The sound grew clearer: a low, guttural groan, followed by the unmistakable sound of skin moving over skin.

Frozen in place, your cheeks flushed hot as realization dawned. Ransom was fisting his cock and unabashedly enjoying it.

Part of you wanted to flee back to your room immediately, but you were paralyzed, afraid any sound of movement might alert him to your presence.

Your breath caught in your throat as Ransom's moans intensified, echoing through the quiet house. The rhythmic creaking of his bed frame quickened, punctuated by deep, guttural groans that sent shivers down your spine. You stood frozen in the kitchen, your water bottle forgotten as you listened, captivated against your will.

Your body betrayed you, responding to the primal sounds drifting down from above. Heat bloomed in your core, your skin tingling with unwanted arousal. You could almost picture him - his muscular body taut with tension, head thrown back in ecstasy, those piercing blue eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Your imagination filled in the details - the flex of his biceps as he stroked himself, the sheen of sweat on his chest, the way his abs would clench with each thrust into his fist.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to quell the ache building between them.

"Fuck," Ransom's voice drifted down, rough with need.

The raw intensity in his voice sent a jolt through you. Your breath quickened, matching the frantic pace of his movements above. You knew you should leave, retreat to the safety of your room, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

The sounds grew more urgent, building to a crescendo. Ransom's groans became deeper, more primal. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the need for release. Your own body thrummed with sympathetic tension, your nipples hardening beneath your thin sleep shirt.

Suddenly, Ransom let out a long, guttural moan. The sound of it vibrated through you, igniting every nerve ending. You imagined him arching off the bed, his body taut as a bowstring as he found his release.

The house fell silent once more, save for the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Realizing you were still clutching your water bottle, you turned and tip-toed back to your room as quickly as possible.

You slipped quietly back into your room, closing and locking the door behind you with trembling hands. Your heart was still racing, your body flushed with unwanted arousal. You leaned against the door, trying to steady your breathing.

What had just happened? You'd come to get water and ended up an unwitting eavesdropper to your fake fiancé's private moment. The memory of Ransom's deep groans echoed in your mind, sending another shiver through you.

You shook your head, trying to clear the vivid mental images. This was ridiculous. Ransom was arrogant, infuriating, and had literally tried to murder someone. You shouldn't be affected by him like this.

And yet, the memory of his moans lingered, making your skin tingle and your core ache with need.

When you crawled into bed, you brought a book with you instead of your vibrator, refusing to sate the lust that had been kindled because you didn’t want to risk thinking of him. If you couldn’t resist him the first night living under the same roof, there would be no hope for you to make it two years.

And so you read until your eyes drooped and you were finally succumbed to sleep.

HAPPY KNIVES OUT NOVEMBER! It seemed like an appropriate point during the Countdown to Chris-mas to finally buckle down and write my first Ransom fic!

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#darsy twirls the fic #ransom drysdale x reader #forced proximity my fave #fake dating

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eva-knits12 · 1 year ago

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Date Night with Ransom Drysdale

Trigger warning: date night, slight smut, mentions of a chronic illness, fluff

Summary: Ransom takes you on a date night.

It's Friday, which means that you had OT today. You have OT in the morning, and the rest of the day is yours. Now, you can relax for a bit. Ransom and you are sleeping on the bed, in each other's arms. You need all the rest you can get. MS wore you out, and you were worn out from PT and OT, and you were worn out because you were also having a bad day. Ransom sensed you were having a bad day because you were more frustrated and upset than usual. You always maintained a positive attitude, but sometimes, your bad days made you frustrated. You wanted to do things, you needed to do things, but your bad days and the pain that came with them wore you out before you could even get up. Ransom always helped you get through the bad days simply by being there for you and loving you wholly and unconditionally. As long as you got up and put two feet on the ground, that was a good day in your eyes.

Ransom wakes up before you, and has already planned a date night. He felt that this would help take things off your mind for a bit, and it would cheer you up.

Ransom kisses your cheek, and makes himself some coffee. He pulls out a tray, and places a plate of cookies on it, and prepares you a coffee just the way you like it.

You wake up, reaching for Ransom, only to realize that Ransom is gone. You like to snuggle in his chest when you first wake up, and Ransom is usually reading his New Yorker or his Time.

Ransom enters the bedroom, carrying the tray of coffee and the cookies. You both grab for a cookie, and you take a sip of coffee. Your engagement ring sparkles in the afternoon sunlight.

"Sweetheart, I can't wait. Let's finish, and then we'll shower. Get dressed up. I have a surprise for us later," says Ransom, kissing you lovingly.

You and Ransom finish your cookies and your coffee, and he goes into the walk in closet and grabs his favorite suit, and you grab your favorite red dress. Ransom stands behind you, and grabs you your walker.

You and Ransom both shower, and start making out in the shower. You both suds each other up, and you are both enjoying this. This feels nice, and Ransom is usually up, preparing you a coffee, and then Olga fixes you both your meals.

You and Ransom just hold each other in the shower for a while, letting the water get cold. You both wrap yourself in towels, and continue to kiss, enjoying the intimacy of this. This was about two people who were in love, and were enjoying an intimate moment.

You and Ransom dry each other off, and Ransom puts on his cologne. You put on your perfume, and Ransom helps you with your robe.

Ransom carries you over to your vanity desk, and put on your makeup. Ransom had moved a bunch of your stuff from your apartment when you moved in with him.

Ransom helps you get dressed, and grabs a pair of black ballet flats.

Ransom carries you out of the room, and has your wheelchair loaded into the Mercedes. He still has his Beemer, but he got a Mercedes for more day to day tasks, and you had a Lexus SUV with hand controls so that you could drive. You really don't need the wheelchair, but Ransom won't leave the house without it. He wanted to make sure that you had it available for when the need arose.

You're already feeling better, due to the fact that you slept for the afternoon, and the rest helps you for some reason. You smile lovingly at Ransom while he's carrying you to the car. Ransom puts you in the passengers side, kisses your forehead, and then puts the seatbelt on you. He goes back into the house to get your clutch, and to get his wallet.

Ransom gets back to the car, and you are excited. You haven't had this in a while, and Ransom is right, it's starting to take your mind off of things.

Ransom and you arrive at the restaurant, and the hostess seats the both of you. He made the reservations earlier in the week.

"Ransom, thank you. Thank you, so much. I love you, I love you so much," you say, tearing up. " I know that my MS has progressed, and it's sucking the life out of me. I really don't know what I'd do without you and my brother," you say.

"Shh, I love you. You are perfect to me, MS and all. I say it every single day because it's true, you are perfect to me. Don't ever feel guilty for having a chronic illness, trust me, baby girl, when I say that I love you, I mean it. I mean it from the bottom of my heart," says Ransom.

You loved Ransom with all of your heart, and he loved you the same way and then some. When everyone around him was telling him to walk away, and to find someone who could contribute to the relationship and the marriage, he told them in no uncertain terms to eat shit.

You and Ransom just talked and ate, and enjoyed each other's company. This felt nice, and Ransom had another surprise for you. Ransom and you both had the steak, and it tasted wonderful.

"Instead of Friday, I arranged for you to have your Friday OT appointment on Wednesday next week." Ransom pulled out two first class tickets, and presented them to you. They were two first class tickets to Detroit Metro Airport, and Ransom thought that seeing your family would be also cheer you up.

You crash your lips onto Ransom's.

"I knew you'd love it," says Ransom.

"You're right. I love it." you say, crashing your lips onto Ransom's again.

Ransom and you order your dessert, and it tastes even sweeter because you were enjoying it with your fiance.

Ransom pays the bill, and helps you up, kissing the top of your head. He helps you into your coat, and you put one hand his shoulder to help support yourself while he helped you put on your coat. You both repeat this with the other arm.

Ransom and you talk on the drive home. When you both get home, you both get into your pajamas. Ransom puts on some music, and Ed Sheeran's "Thinking Out Loud", followed by "Perfect" plays.

youtube

You both slow dance around the bedroom for both of these songs, and it just feels perfect. Ransom puts you on top his feet, and this feels more intimate. Ransom kisses you lovingly.

In Ransom's eyes, you were perfect to him, MS and all. You both needed this tonight.

The next day, you and Ransom spend the rest of the weekend just enjoying the lazy weekend. Ransom knew you also needed a weekend like this, and it did you some good. You actually felt better because you were getting rest. You were also enjoying time with Ransom. You realized that you were both taking this time for granted, due to you having to go to PT, OT, and various other doctor appointments. At times, it seems that everything that came with MS took on a life of it's own, but Ransom wouldn't have it any other way. You both vegged in bed, and watched movies, and read, and napped in between. You even managed to knit, working on a pair of socks that Ransom would love.

That Monday, Ransom also started to write a journal about all of the things that he loved about you. You started your own journal for Ransom, and you would exchange them on your first wedding anniversary as a married couple.

#ransom drysdale #fluff #chronic illness #date night #Youtube

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witchywithwhiskey · 4 months ago

Text

an afternoon of pumpkin picking

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

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

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

word count: 11.6k

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

Can’t believe you talked me into this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, your phone vibrated, distracting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let me see, nixie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And take it you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you mean it?”

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

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

Your sugar daddy loved you. Ransom Drysdale loved you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t sure,” he admitted gruffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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krirebr · 5 months ago

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I'm Feeling Like I Never Should

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

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

Warnings: Explicit language, anxiety, insults, bad parents All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 Siri's Birthday Bonenanza!!! The prompts I used were seeking comfort (or sexy times) from an ex and “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” which both screamed Ransom to me. 😂 Thank you for hosting such a fun event, Siri!! I hope you had a great birthday!

Thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has an endless supply of patience for talking through ideas with me and helping me whenever I'm stuck.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The noise from the party floated down the secluded back hallway, muted but still audible. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall. You really hated these things. Too many people. Too much smugness. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t all just donate to charities in private. That’s what the internet was for. But no, you had to watch each other do it to prove how good you all were while eating canapes and drinking too much in designer gowns. You really hated these things.

And your parents knew that. Your mom, especially, knew exactly what rooms like this, full of distant acquaintances and strangers, did to you. Knew how hard forced mingling was for you. Knew the way it made your chest ache. And still, she’d insisted. And then she’d–

You wiped the stray tears from your face. It was pointless to get upset over things she’d always done, over a person who’d never change. You should know better by now.

The door at the far end of the hall opened and you reflexively looked over at the noise to find Ransom Drysdale standing in the doorway in a tux. Shit. Shit. He, of course, had seen you too and now he was striding over.

“Not fucking now, Ransom,” you whined, but of course he didn’t listen. He’d never fucking listened. Not when you were kids and knew him in passing. Not for the entire time you’d dated as adults. Why would he start now?

“Wow,” he said, gesturing to you with a crostini in his hand. “There’s a party going on out there and you’re playing wallflower in here? Color me shocked.”

“Yeah?” you said. “And what are you doing in here? Trying to find a caterer to pay to blow you?” No one could get your back up like him. He’d always brought the vile out in you.

He gave you a mean little smirk. “You rather I slipped you a fifty instead? Your mouth always was one of the best things about you.”

You felt your skin start to heat in embarrassment (and something else you had no interest in naming) as you growled, “Fuck off, Ransom. I’m sure this building has other hallways for you to lurk in. Please just leave this one to me.”

You looked down, waiting for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Instead, you felt his intense stare on you. When you finally looked back up, his gaze was softer than you expected. “Is it your mom again?” he asked.

You pushed yourself back into the wall, for lack of anywhere to hide. It was easy to forget when he was such an asshole, when all you did was trade barbs, how much he’d seen, how well he knew you. All you could do was shrug, with a quiet, “You know how she is.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Still wants a mini-me instead of an actual human daughter?”

You sighed. It was too much, too real, to have him here like this. You almost preferred it when he was insulting you. “I really just want to be alone right now, Ran. Please.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was so sure, firm.

“Excuse me?” you bit out, the acid coming back.

“If I leave you alone, you’re just going to stand back here and spiral until you’ve made yourself completely fucking miserable. To the point where it’ll take you days to come out of it. That is not what you actually want.”

His certainty lit a fire inside of you. “I know,” you growled out, “that you think you know everything, but you aren’t actually the expert on me, Ransom.”

“Aren’t I?” he asked, with a hint of that smirk returning. It made you want to punch him in his beautiful face.

“Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you? I know it’s been a while, but I know you. Better than any of those assholes out there.” He threw an emphatic arm back towards the party. “Including your fucking parents. You can talk to me.”

“And say what, Ran? That she’s still dragging me to these things even though she knows what they do to me? That she’s decided that there’s not much to brag about in a single daughter to her society friends, so these fucking events have become matchmaking opportunities too? That she will never tire of reminding me just how much I’m not the person she wants me to be? It’s just the same old bullshit. It’s not your problem anymore. It barely was even when we were together.” You sagged back against the wall, all of your energy leeched out of you.

Ransom was quiet for a very long moment. You hoped that meant he might leave, finally seeing what a lost cause this all was. Instead, when he finally spoke, he said, “She always really hated me.”

“Yeah, Ran,” you sighed. “She hates a lot of people.”

“No,” he said, with a smile that still had a touch of meanness to it, but, as always, you could somehow tell that none of that meanness was directed at you, “what I’m trying to say is I bet it would fucking piss her off if you walked back into that party with me on your arm. Spent the whole night with me. Left with me, even. I bet she’d be so angry. I bet it’d ruin her whole fucking week.”

You burst into laughter. You couldn’t help it. No one could do petty like Ransom. You’d forgotten how fun that could be. “Yeah? That’s why you want to hang out with me? To piss off my mom?”

“No, that’s why you want to hang out with me. I want to hang out with you because you’re always the hottest person at these things.” And then he gave you the most shameless once-over you’d ever received.

“Oh my god,” you chuckled with an overly fond eye-roll, despite yourself. He was always just so Ransom. The things about him that pissed you off and drew you to him in equal measure never changed. You were sure they never would. “What about you? I’m sure you have lots of people to piss off. How are Richard and Linda?”

He gave you a bright smile. “Oh, just the absolute fucking worst. As ever.”

You laughed again. “Glad to hear we’re still in the same boat, at least.” You pushed yourself off the wall and took a step closer to him, feeling like you might finally be ready to venture back into the party. “What were you doing back here, anyway? Do you need to finish finding whatever it is you were looking for?”

Ransom glanced away from you for just a moment and then shrugged. “Nah. I was bored out of my mind out there and then saw your mom swanning around, in rare form even for her. Figured I’d probably find you back here.”

You touched his arm without thinking, warmth spreading through your chest. “Wait, you were looking for me?”

He shrugged again. “I know how much you hate these things. Thought you might need checking up on.”

All you could do was stare at him, all the best feelings from your time together rushing back over you. “You’re very surprising, Ransom,” you said, quietly.

He shook his head with a rueful grin. “No,” he said, “definitely not that. I’m just the same old asshole.” He offered you his arm. “Come on, let’s see if we can make that vein in your mom’s forehead throb.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly

#happy birthday siri 2024 #siri's birthday bonenanza 2024 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #reader insert #chris evans fanfiction #i'm feeling like i never should #kris wrote something

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holylulusworld · 5 months ago

Text

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Like in 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023, I will post a kinky, fluffy, angsty or scary one-shot from October 1st till October 31st, 2024.

Please consider none of the stories are available until the set release date. Titles may change (all titles are working titles until the release date.). The release date may change at any time.

ANGST/SMUT/FLUFF

October 1st: Forbidden Lust (3) sequel to Forbidden Lust & Forbidden Lust (2)

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Homewrecker kink

October 2nd: How deep is your love? sequel to Deepest love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 3rd: Extreme tight places sequel to Cramped & Tight places & Very tight places

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Kink: Anal sex

October 4th: Colorful leaves sequel to Falling leaves

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Trope: Sunny vs grumpy

October 5th: Serve your Soldier (2) sequel to Serve your Soldier

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!Reader

Kink: Collars

October 6th: Snuggle and cuddle sequel to Snuggle time

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Huddling for warmth

October 7th: Good girls punch hard (1)

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Kink: Lust at first sight

October 8th: A new life sequel to One autumn night

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Trope: Nesting (a/b/o)

October 9th: The peach (2) sequel to The Peach

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Girlfriend!Reader

Kink: Spanking

October 10th: My car again? sequel to Not in my car

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Cuddling & Snuggling

Requested by: @dawn-petrichor-world

October 11th: Breathlessness sequel to Breathless & Take My Breath Away

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Boss kink

October 12th: Death or date?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Trope/Kink: Enemies to lovers

October 13th: Pour me some love (1)

Pairing: Biker!Dean Winchester x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Love at first sight

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 14th: Ashtray (2) sequel to Ashtray

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader

Kink: angry sex

October 15th: My lawn, my rules sequel to Get off my lawn

Pairing: Alpha (Teacher) Bucky Barnes x Omega (Teacher) Reader

Trope: Mating

October 16th: Howl like a wolf (Prologue)

Pairing: Alpha!Anders Lassen x Omega!Reader

Kink: a/b/o

October 17th: Bucky & Ducky (1)

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Side-pairing: Bucky x Ducky the duck

Trope: Best buddies

Idea by: @buckys-wintersoldier

October 18th: Pipsqueak & Grumpy (2) sequel to Pipsqueak & Grumpy

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Chubby(Short)!Reader

Trope: TBA

October 19th: Torn in two

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Trope: Unrequited Love

October 20th: Sweater weather sequel to Christmas Sweater

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Trope: Sweater weather

October 21st: The cabin in the woods (2) sequel to The cabin in the woods

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Trope: Captivity

October 22nd: Lunchtime Delight

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Girlfriend!Reader

Kink: Edging

Idea: by @elle14-blog1

October 23rd: My annoying sexy neighbor (2) sequel to My annoying sexy neighbor

Pairing: Neighbor!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Semi-public sex

October 24th: Parallel Worlds (1)

Pairing: Negan Smith (TWD) x fem!Reader x John Winchester (SPN)

Trope: Daddy kink

October 25th: Unwanted mate (2) Bucky's version sequel to Unwanted Mate (Bucky's version)

Pairing: Alpha!Stucky x Omega!Reader

Trope: Triade

October 26th: Up his sleeve

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Hand kink

Idea by: @buckys-wintersoldier

October 27th: Breakfast for...

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Wife!Reader

Kink: TBA

October 28th: Their bride (Snippet 1) sequel to Best bridesmaid ever

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Trope: Post-Coitus moment

October 29th: His Bride (Prologue)

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Vampire AU

October 30th: Bound Tight

Pairing: Gus March-Philipps x fem!Reader x Anders Lassen

Kink: Ropes

Halloween Specials: ANGST/SMUT/HORROR

October 31st: His little red riding hood sequel to Little Red Riding hood lost in the woods

Pairing: (Alpha) Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader (LittleRedRidingHood)

Trope: Monster-fucking

Find all other Bingos and Special Events here: Special Events

#kinktober 2024 #flufftober 2024 #kinktober vs flufftober 2024 #dean winchester #bucky barnes #wolverine #sam winchester #lee bodecker #anders lassen #gus march phillips #smut

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rosedpetal · 6 months ago

Text

A Good Father

Summary: Ransom shows his family he knows how to take care of his own kid.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (as his baby mamma)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Author's note: this is a repost.

Masterlist

If years ago someone ever told Ransom that he'd get married and have children, he'd laugh in their faces. Whenever anyone in his family brought the topic of him settling down, he would leave the table and curse at them.

Until you came in the picture.

He was having the worst day ever, and he desperately needed a cookie. So, he went to the grocery store and was about to pick the last package left of his favorite cookies on the aisle, when you swayed your damned hips and got the package first.

Ransom was livid. He threw the most embarrassing tantrum ever, threatening to call security on you and ruin your life, but you just laughed at his face and asked if he wanted to share. Share! How dared you?

So, you bought the cookies and gave him half. After the first bite, his mood improved and he actually asked you out on a date. It was the best night of his life.

Five years later, you were married and had a baby. You moved to a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, and even adopted a stray dog (well, he just got home from work one day and the puppy was chewing on one of his expensive shoes, while you had the widest grin he ever saw on someone's face).

Ransom loved you with all his heart. And when you gave birth to your baby daughter, he loved her beyond words.

But right now, you were set on making him miserable.

"I'm not talking about this again, Hugh." You pointed your finger at him and he flinched. You never called him by his name. "You're going and you're taking Lily with you. Her nanny is sick, and I have to work."

"But babe-"

"Not. Another. Word." You gave him one of your deadly stares, and he actually felt sorry for Lily having such a scary mother. After petting your dog's fur, you turned to Lily on the highchair and peppered her face with kisses, while she giggled. "Mommy's gonna miss you so much baby boo, you tell me if your daddy misbehave!"

Ransom tried not to roll his eyes at you. You pecked him on the lips and he pouted. Before you left the kitchen, he called you:

"Babe, don't forget your jacket. It might get cold."

You smiled at him. You knew he was upset for having to take Lily to his family's horrible get-together.

After your car left the garage, he looked at his chubby baby, wondering if he'd succeed in shielding her from the evil of his family.

Things change after having your first child. First, Ransom started saving money. No more shopping sprees for him. Then, he actually tried to get his own thing, in which he failed miserably. Seeing his struggle, his good old grandad secured him with the ownership of their publishing company (for Walt's despair). The only catch: he'd have to show to family meetings at least until Harlan Thrombey's death.

Which was how he was stuck in this mess in the first place.

Ransom was not stupid. He could handle these annoying game nights, dinners and whatever by provoking everyone and leaving after setting the mood for a big fight.

But bringing his baby with him?

Big no.

Well, you shared his opinion on this. You two would avoid having Lily in their company as best as you could, but some things couldn't be helped.

Your trusted nanny called in sick, and you couldn't bring Lily to work.

Ransom wanted to cry.

He took the fussing Lily out of the baby seat and struggled to put her in the carrier attached to his front, got her pink bag on his shoulder and closed the door of the car with his feet (how you managed to do all these things so gracefully were beyond him). He got on the front porch of Harlan's home and wanted to scream. What the hell was his great-grandmother doing there, sitting alone on that chilly afternoon, with such a thin blanket covering her?

"Hey Nana, why don't we go drink some tea inside?" He offered. The small old woman nodded, in a way he new she didn't actually acknowledged him.

Fuck his family for treating Nana like she was something disposable.

Ransom took Nana's small hand on his and carried her to an armchair in the living room, where Fran was serving tea to Harlan.

Before Ransom could even say "hi" his grandfather was already up and speaking in his "baby" voice with Lily. His daughter giggled, showing her cute teeny tiny new teeth.

It was fucking cute, but the days of Lily's teething made Ransom and Y/N traumatized.

"Hi to you too, granddad." Ransom rolled his eyes, sitting across his grandfather's seat.

"Tea?" Fran offered Ransom. He thanked her, an habit you made him build. Saying "thanks", and "please", things his parents didn't bother to teach him. He wanted Lily to be better than him, and by that, he had to make himself better than whatever he was.

The first time Ransom apologized to Fran, the woman was so shocked that she broke in a fit of hysterical laughter, while Marta just blinked like she was imagining things.

Ransom took a walk with Lily still safely attached to his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but she was getting heavier and harder to carry all the times. God, after five minutes he needed to sit down on a wooden trunk to recover.

Feeling like his breath was coming to normal again, Ransom went back to the house, noticing that there were more cars parked there.

Here comes the shit show.

At the dining table, Richard's voice mixed with Walt's, like they were competing on who would talk louder. Linda absently smoked a cigarette, promptly ignoring Joni. Jacob and Meg where fighting over politics or some shit, and Donna was on her phone.

A miserable-looking Marta sat between Fran and Nana on the small couch on the corner.

And Harlan ignored the rest of them, with a glass of whiskey dancing in his hand.

"Oh, there he is! And look who is here too!" Linda beamed, putting out the cigarette.

Ransom grimaced when his mother's nicotine smelling hand brushed against his daughter's face. Lily was so calmed before, and it broke his heart when she started crying her lungs out, like she wanted to be away from Linda's greedy presence.

Lily's crying made everyone shut up. She was born eight months ago, and they saw her only once, when Ransom and Y/N took her to Harlan's when she was a newborn. Linda and Richard tried to visit Ransom's house a few times, but they quickly grew bored of the grandparents role.

Joni, Donna and Walt couldn't really care less for baby Drysdale. Meg tried to be as nice as she could with Lily, but she was terrified of babies. As for Jacob, Ransom didn't want that little creep close to his daughter.

"Oh, Ransom, is she hungry or something?" Linda grimaced at Lily's screams.

No, mother, she's upset because she hates you. Ransom wanted to yell at Linda's face, but he just took Lily in his arms and rocked her gently, kissing her sweaty temple and running his thumb over her tears.

"Shh, love. 'S okay, daddy's here for you. My brave little girl, everything's gonna be alright, I'm here for you." Ransom whispered gently to Lily.

Linda gulped, suddenly feeling her eyes watering. She wondered if she could go back she'd be a better mother. She doesn't remember ever holding Ransom like that, not even when he was a baby. She didn't even breastfeed him, and she and Richard never woke up in the middle of night to soothe Ransom's cries. Not when they had nannies for that. Not when they could buy their way of not giving him their time or affection.

"You're good with her, son." Richard cleared his throat, feeling the same guilt wash over him.

"Of course I'm good with my own daughter." Ransom scoffed, still rocking Lily in his arms. He lowered his head to her. "There you go, baby. Wanna hang out with auntie Marta while daddy spend some time with these assholes? Huh?"

Marta smiled a little at the snarky remark, and Ransom passed Lily to her, who was already making grabby hands for Marta.

Of course she likes the immigrant nurse, Linda bitterly thought.

"Wow, that was so cute, Ransom!" Meg complimented. "You make me think even I could be a good parent! No offense, of course."

"None taken, cousin. Having children is life changing if you're ever willing to have your own."

"Ohhh, I miss when Meg was that tiny. You were the cutest thing ever, baby." Joni took Meg's hand on her own. Donna and Walt's gaze strayed to Jacob, who smiled at them.

The memories of Linda, Neil and Walt's feet running in the house flooded Harlan's memory. How he missed them like that. How he missed his deceased son and wife.

The atmosphere in the living room was way more harmonious, almost soothing. The Thrombey-Drysdale family was taken aback by Ransom's behavior. They never thought he'd be a good father.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #cevans characters #chris evans fanfiction

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years ago

Text

the murder at evergreen university

a/n: asdfghjkl I have been writing this since january...... wow. it's never taken me that long to write a story before... also I made a quick student bio about the majority of the people in this story, so if you wanna start off by looking at that, then here is the link ♡

summary: just a slutty murder mystery

warnings: reader x various CEvans characters (Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett, Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Frank Adler, Jake Jensen, Lloyd Hansen), DARK content, noncon, smut, violence, university AU, murder mystery, detective!Ari, family friend!Ari, mma!Curtis (I just couldn't resist), surely extremely inaccurate on all levels (the college stuff, the investigation, everything, but this is just for fun so it's okay. lol I got the frat name from fantasynamegenerators.com hehe), polyamory, kissing, alcohol consumption, crying, drugging, murder, somno, daddy kink, dirty talk, choking, penetrative sex, size kink, vomiting, flashback sequences are written in all cursive

word count: 11.100

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

masterlist | join my taglist | evergreen university masterlist

Walking up the steps of the Kappa Zeta Nu building, you pulled your humming ear pods out of your ears and popped them in the jacket pocket where your phone rested. If it hadn’t been for the big Greek letters above and its proximity to the college, the fraternity house could almost fool someone into thinking it was just any other regular suburban home.

Giving the front door a rhythmic knock, it quickly swung open to reveal a scruffy-looking mathematics major, still groggy from sleep.

“Morning Frank,” you couldn’t help but notice the spark in his eye that your presence generated.

“Angel,” your nickname sounded so good on his sleepy lips, making you smile as he gave you a quick glance up and down, “how do you look like that this early in the morning?”

Walking past him, further into the house, you chuckled, “8:30 is not that early.”

“Um, on a Saturday it is.”

Thanks to the open floor plan, you quickly caught sight of Jake sitting by the kitchen island, scarfing down a bowl of cereal.

“Hey!” the blonde smiled, mouth still full of his breakfast, “I’m guessing by the gorgeous look on your face that you made it through last night?”

“Yep,” you exhaled, thinking back on the major cram session you had to power through in order to meet the paper’s deadline. The lengthy assignment for your cognitive psychology class had been so extensive that it probably hadn’t been that smart of you to keep procrastinating it the way that you had, but somehow you got it done, “turned it in just in time.”

“Atta girl,” the computer whiz reached over the counter to give you a high five, “I knew you could do it!”

“Speaking of yesterday,” yours and Jake’s fingers lingered a moment before parting ways, “how’s our boy doing? Did he make it through last night?”

Appearing behind you, still sweaty and panting from his morning run, Steve answered your question, evidently catching the tail end of the conversation just as he came in through the door, “Curtis is doing just fine,” he leaned against one of the counters, catching his breath, “better than fine actually, he won.”

“He did?” a bright smile bloomed on your face, “man, I wish I could have been there…” you were usually so strict about being there for important things, such as Curtis’ occasional MMA fights, but because of your procrastinated schoolwork, you hadn’t been able to tag along. “It’s all Lloyd’s fault, you know. He did the whole oh yeah, we can have a little study date, get that paper done, no sweat, and then distracted me, leaving me with all of the work to get through yesterday.”

“You wanna turn the faucets on down here, give his shower an icy turn as revenge?” Jake suggested, fiddling with his spoon playfully.

“Nah, I’ll just give him the cold shoulder for a bit,” you settled your forearms against the countertop, unintentionally giving the guys a better view down your top, “he hates it when I ignore him.”

“He sure does,” Jakes drawled, nearly dropping his utensil into the milky bowl as he unabashedly stared down your cleavage.

Biting your bottom lip a second, you returned to the matter at hand, “is he up yet?”

“Curtis?” Steve clarified, opening the fridge and plucking out a cold bottle of water.

“Yeah.”

“Nope,” Frank shook his head behind you, “he’s still sleeping.”

Only pushing yourself halfway up, you asked “can I go see him?” slightly taking the others by surprise.

“When have you even needed permission to go barge into his room?” Frank questioned.

“I don’t know…” you muttered, glancing down at the speckled pattern of the counter's surface, “maybe he’s got company or something…”

“Angel,” Steve leaned over the opposite side of the table, craning his neck so that he could catch your timid eyes, “he is not gonna go pick up some random girl just because you miss one of his fights.”

Bowing your head, you opted not to answer, instead just attempted to shake the doubt off you entirely.

In a bouncy rocking motion, you straitened back up and moved towards the stairs, two of the guys tagging along as they too needed to head upstairs.

“So,” you glanced over your shoulder at Frank and Steve, “how’s Ransom settling in?”

“The new guy?” Steve spoke, “fine, I think. I don’t know, I don’t speak trust fund kid, so how would I know.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad… Shouldn’t we at least try to include him in our little group? It just seems kinda mean not to since we’re so tight and you all live with him,” reaching the top of the stairs, you heard, from the bathroom directly in front of you, the trickling clues of Lloyd’s luxurious shower, and briefly glanced down at the far end of the hall where the new guy’s closed door was, his vast room mirroring Steve’s at the opposite side, though his was much more secluded from the rest, being closed in by the injection of both the broad staircase and the bathroom before the cluster of rooms came. “Like you said, you don’t know him yet, he might be super sweet and just takes a bit of time to warm up to people.”

“Maybe,” was all Frank cagily, not giving it any more thought.

Coming to a stop in front of Curtis’ door, you slowly creaked it open, revealing the sleeping display of a bruised buzzcut, still lightly snoring on his back.

“Jesus christ,” you breathed and leaned your shoulder against the doorframe, taking in the beaten form of your friend, “you sure he won?” you asked the men still lingering a second longer, peeking over your shoulder into the room.

“Yeah, you don’t wanna see the other guy,” Frank gave your behind a quick tap before ducking into his own room.

Turning your head to look at Steve, himself leisurely making his way down towards the room at the end of the hall, “you sure he’s fine?”

Stopping in his step, he offered you an earnest glance, “he’s fine, Y/n. Go wake him up.”

After shutting the door behind you, you peeled off your jacket and let it drop down onto the desk chair you passed on your way towards the small mattress. Kicking off your shoes, you climbed the twin bed, kneeling beside your resting friend.

“Wake up,” you sang, dipping your smile down low to rouse Curtis. Receiving a less than lively reaction, only getting a soft inhale of breath as an indication that he’d woken, you tried again, swinging one of your legs over his form to straddle his hips, “hey, tough guy,” you felt his palms slide up the curve of your ass and come to rest around your waist, “you alive?”

Just barely fluttering his bruised eyelids open, a bright smile bloomed on his lips, “hi angel,” he sighed contently at your presence, blinking up at your softly illuminated form as the gentle morning light streamed in through his open window, the family of birds living in the tree just outside aiding in the gentle ambience.

“A little birdy told me that you won last night,” you let your upper body sink down against his, resting your chin on top of your folded palms, right underneath his chin.

“I did,” you saw as the sting of his various injuries woke him up even further, “although I still would have preferred if my good luck charm had been there instead of doing boring homework.”

“Oh, please don’t make me feel any worse,” you hid your face in his chest, “I already feel like I have too much making up to do.”

“Oh yeah?” he picked your head up for you to see the sly smirk now adorning his face, “what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” you spoke shyly, feeling your cheeks flush as the position the two of you had found yourself in dawned on you, “I just really wanted to have been there,” and you sat back up, wary of where you placed your hands for support on his beaten frame.

“Ah,” he waved a reassuring hand, “you’ll be at the next one.”

“Oh, I will,” you grinned promisingly, scooting down to the foot of the bed as you watched him sit up, the duvet falling off his body to relieve the rest of the colourful aftermath, “a simple assignment won’t be able to stop me,” your enthusiasm made him smile through the wince he let out as he got up off the mattress.

Tailing after Curtis as he moved out into the hall and made his way down towards the lavatory, you suggested as you followed him into the bathroom, “we should totally do something to celebrate your win! It’s the weekend, we should do something fun!”

Standing by one of the sinks, Lloyd, fresh out of the shower, didn’t take his eyes off his hair in the reflection as you sauntered in. As Curtis grabbed his toothbrush, he leaned down and whispered cheekily in your ear, “I know a way we can celebrate, just the two of us,” flashing you a glance that caused your breath to get caught in your throat.

Cutting off your flustered giggle, Lloyd spoke, “there’s supposed to be a party tonight down on the other side of campus. Me and a few of the others were talking about going.”

“Oh, the one Delta Phi is throwing? Nat’s going to that! Said something this morning about meeting the guy she’s been seeing there.”

“What-, guy?” Lloyd finally ripped his eyes away from the mirror, “what happened to that yoga chick?”

“I don’t know, I think she was moving a little bit too fast for Natasha’s speed,” you spoke of your commitment-phobe of a roommate. Saddling up beside the fighter now brushing his teeth, you said, “so, what do you say?” bumping your hip gently against his as you saw him look back at you in the mirror, “it could be fun.”

Pretending to ponder the proposal, Curtis answered, “if you put on a pretty little dress, then I might be convinced to go,” the foaming toothpaste lightly murmuring his flirting.

“…It’s always the innocent-looking ones you’ve gotta look out for,” Ransom spoke over the loud, bassy music to the moustachioed man next to him on the couch, “and this little charade you’ve all got going on must be a hell of a good time,” he elbowed him suggestively, though didn’t conjure the desired reaction from him, “oh, come on, you can tell me, dude. Just help a brother out with a few details.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lloyd shrugged with a smirk and took a sip of his beer.

“What do you mean?”

Huffing out a soft sigh, he answered, “she’s an amazing girl, don’t get me wrong, but she just has a few rules.”

“What, like some bdsm kinda rules?” Ransom’s eyebrows wiggled excitedly.

“No, man,” he tried not to chuckle at the yearned-for images his inappropriate guess provoked, “back when we met her she-… her heart was fucking broken and there wasn’t a lot of stuff that she wanted to do anymore, that she felt comfortable with, but over time, I guess when she started getting over whomever that fucker was, she began to relax and let us in.”

“So, you’re really saying you haven’t hit that yet?” the prying man furrowed his brows, unmoved by the sob story.

“None of us have.”

“Then are those stories about you banging her last week just rumours?”

“No, no, well not exactly, we did have fun, trust me,” he chuckled, poking his cheek playfully with his tongue, “but I didn’t exactly bang her.”

“So, let me get this right, you’re all mad for her and she hasn’t given out? To any of you? What, is she still a virgin or something? Waiting for marriage?”

“I don’t think so,” Llyod thought for a moment, “but it kinda wouldn’t surprise me either if she was… I don’t know… it’s kinda complicated, but damn if she isn’t worth it.”

Letting out a low exhale, he shook his head, “I don’t know how you stand it, dude. If she was mine, she wouldn’t be able to walk. Hell, how do you even share someone like her?”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s mine per se, we all just have fun, you know? Why not share?”

“Hey,” your chipper voice interrupted their lewd convocation as you finally caught sight of them on the dark leather couch in the corner of the party, “there you are,” and immediately grabbed each of their hands in yours, “come on,” you leaned your weight back, ushering them to get up, “we’re doing shots in the kitchen!”

“Seriously, Barnes? Watch where you’re going!” Ransom exclaimed as the host of the party had rowdily bumped into the rich boy on his way through the narrow kitchen, causing the bright pink shot in his hand to spill all down the front of his white sweater, “this is cashmere, dude!” he yelled after Bucky’s quickly disappearing form, clearly not haven noticed the interaction himself over the deafening music and his drunken haze.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, noticing the huge stain now blooming on the man beside you, “are you okay?” the sharp alcohol still stung in your throat causing your words to come out ragged.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he stared down at himself, then over his shoulder in contemplation of whether or not he should run after the guy in pursuit of revenge, “this sweater however is not.”

As your eyes washed over the ivory knit, watching it soak up the colourful cocktail, you thought out loud as an idea struck you, “well, maybe…” and acted quickly, grabbing the man’s hand, “come with me,” you yanked him past the rest of your jovial friends and down the hallway towards the small bathroom.

Catching on to where your head was at, Ransom spoke after crossing the threshold, “Y/n, this is very sweet, but I don’t know if it will work.”

“Just shut up and take it off,” you held out your hand, too blind by your inebriated problem-solving instincts to consider any other outcome.

Gazing back at you a moment, he then chuckled and tugged the sweater over his head with one hand, your eyes widening as he placed the item in your waiting palm, it haven apparently been the only layer he had on.

“Thank you,” you breathed, dumbfounded for a second as you stared at his bare chest, briefly admiring his toned form before shaking it off and spinning around to turn on the sink. Holding the stained material against the slowly trickling cold water, you pressed and pinched the spot gently in an effort to not agitate the delicate fibres. “I swear, I’m always the worst at spilling stuff on myself, I’m like a child, plus the fact that I’m a knitter, so not to promise anything, but I’d say you’re in pretty good hands.”

He didn’t say anything, simply settled in beside you, leaning against the edge of the sink as he watched your face contort in adorable concentration.

“Oh, dammit…” you gave up after a few minutes of gentle scrubbing. Turning the faucet off, you held the sweater up and looked at the, although lighter, still very much visible pink stain, “well at least it’s a little bit better than before,” you tried, flashing the half-naked man an apologetic look, “maybe if I soak it a bit it’ll get better, but-”

“Hey,” Ransom placed his fingers atop yours still clutching the wool, “it’s fine,” he lowered your hands as he leaned in and closed the gap between you two, his alcoholic breath fanning across your flush cheeks as he uttered a quiet, “thank you,” before unexpectedly pressing a greedy kiss against your lips.

Feeling his grip tug the sweater out of your hands, you instinctively pressed your palms against his chest for support as the whole move had made your intoxicated body lose its balance. His lips were soft, but his kisses were hungry, determinedly letting it build far faster than you were ready for.

You let out a soft giggle of surprise as he suddenly scooped you up and planted you on the edge of the sink, nestling himself in between your parted thighs, your short dress haven ridden up from the movement.

“So, is this why they all call you angel?” he asked as his heated pecks fluttered down your neck, “because you swoop in and save the day?”

“I don’t know if I do that…” you breathed timidly, the reality of what he was doing just catching up to you now.

“Oh, but you do. You saved mine,” he smirked, “you’re my hero,” you felt the tickle of his fingers as they snuck further up under your dress, “however can I repay you?”

“I, um,” you giggled nervously, catching his wrists before they could get any further, pressing your lips against his in an effort to soften the blow as you thought of a gentle way to let him down, “I think that kiss by itself was a pretty good thank you,” you hopped down from the sink even though he made no effort in providing you room to do so.

Enclosing his arms around you as you giggly stumbled further towards the still-ajar door, he uttered, pressing the obvious tent in his pants up against your softness, “but why stop there? I can do a lot better than that if you just give me five more minutes,” but the door conveniently swung open a bit more just as two familiar figures passed it.

“Angel!” Jake, completely blind to the man still clawing at you to stay inside the bathroom, hooked an arm around your waist and yanked you along as he and Frank jovially strolled past, “there you are! It’s almost 11 o'clock, please don’t tell me that you’re bailing on Curtis and truly dooming him to lose to us.”

“I think Curtis would lose to you two in beer pong whether I am on his team or not,” you smiled, thankful of their timing, “you guys are the reigning champions after all.”

“Damn right,” Frank roared, excitedly lifting his fist, “J and F! F and J! Ain’t nothing this duo can’t accomplish.”

“Well, not everything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around their forms as they strolled on either side of you, their arms draped over you in return, “for instance, you’re both terrible cooks.”

“Shut up, angel,” Jake said playfully, “we’re unstoppable and you know it,” he stopped you in your tracks and trapped you against the wall, “say it,” he smirked down at you as Frank, not missing a beat, slipped in as well, enclosing you completely, “say that we’re unstoppable.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you uttered, “you’re unstoppable,” the sudden proximity awakening memories that made your heart flutter.

“Good girl,” he purred purposely, and a shiver ran down your spine as you recalled just how hot they both sounded cumming for you, a while back, when they had managed to talk you into playing with them both.

“You guys are so mean,” you said light-heartedly.

“Yeah,” Frank scrunched his nose through his warm smile, “but you like it.”

Twirling you around the dancefloor, Lloyd had been the only one in the mood to satisfy your surge of energy when you came pouting, begging the boys to dance with you. Holding you close, his hands roamed as you rocked to the music, causing you to close your eyes and drift away.

“Hey,” a different hand suddenly tapped you on the shoulder and tore you out of your dream, “I need to talk to you a sec.”

Eyes fluttering open to look back at your redheaded roommate, you gave her a quick, “okay,” before raising yourself up onto your toes to speak into your dance partner’s ear, “hey, I’ll be right back!”

“Okay,” he shouted back over the loud music, “I’ll just go grab a drink, you want any?”

“Please,” you reluctantly let go of his hand and yelled after him as you followed your friend through the swarm of partying people, “a beer, thanks!”

Rounding the corner to settle into a comparatively quieter nook, you tugged your wild hair behind your ears as you looked back at Natasha, “what’s up?”

Biting her lip, she spoke, “you love me, right?”

“Well, obviously, I’m about to get down on one knee and everything,” you joked, “what is it?”

“Can I have the room tonight?” she asked with a small winch, knowing damn well how frequent this request was.

“Seriously?” your eyebrows shot up, “again?”

“Please?” she folded her hands dramatically in front of her and begged.

Letting out a soft sigh, you said slowly, “if you buy me that super good chocolate with the blue wrapper that they sell down on the corner, then-”

“Oh my god,” she cut you off and threw her arms around you, “thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re the worst roommate ever, you know that?” you smiled, patting her back.

“And you are the best, a true saint! Me and my sex life pray at your altar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckled, playfully pushing her away, “go on then, get laid.”

Returning to find that Lloyd had settled in with the rest of the guys, taking up all of the clustered couches, you put on your best miserable expression as he handed you your beer, “guys,” you dramatically caught their attention, “I have some really devastating news to tell you…” faking the need to suck in a self-soothing breath before uttering, “tonight, on this very night, I am homeless!”

“Oh no!” they played along, giggling as you pressed the back of your hand up against your forehead.

“I know! Whatever am I to do? If only some big, strong, handsome boys would let me crash at their frat…”

Clutching onto Curtis’ broad shoulders as he gave you a piggyback ride back to the frat, you all laughed at Jake and Frank’s terrible, lewd rendition of the school’s fight song. If Lloyd had been here, if his stamina hadn’t forced him to stay out and enjoy the night a little longer, he would have probably not only joined in, but led the tune, waking up everyone in the dorms you passed.

“So,” Ransom smirked as you all tumbled in through the destinated front door, “who will have the pleasure of bunking with you tonight?”

“I, uh,” you giggled as Curtis sat you down, your shoes clutched in your hand, “I don’t know…”

“You can sleep in my room if you want,” Steve offered generously, “I’ll just sleep down here on the couch.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I can just sleep down here on the couch, it’s fine.”

“No, no,” he waved a hand reassuringly, “you’ve had way more to drink tonight than I have, so you should really take the room closest to the bathroom, just in case.”

Smiling widely, you stumbled over and wrapped your arms around his bulky form, “thank you, Steve,” breathing in his scent as you smooshed your face into his t-shirt, “you’re the best.”

“You wanna borrow a shirt to sleep in?” Curtis asked, reaching out a quick arm to steady you as you lost your balance on your way towards the wide staircase.

“Oh, yeah,” you offered him a fuzzy smile, both the alcohol and the hour causing your eyelids to feel like they weighed a ton, “that would be great.”

Getting settled into the comparatively more private bedroom located next to the stairs, the bathroom too separating it from the rest of the doors clustered down the narrow hallway, you lazily changed into the t-shirt Curtis soon handed off to you, tugging it over your dress before sliding your party outfit off underneath the grey cotton, keeping yourself somewhat covered purely because you didn’t wanna end the conversation you and the rest of the boys were trying to wrap up.

“Alright, we should probably let the lady sleep,” Steve spoke, watching closely as every time you blinked, your eyes gradually stayed closed just a little longer, nearly falling asleep against Curtis’ broad shoulder.

“No, no,” you protested, inhaling sharply in an effort to wake up more, “I’m just resting my eyes…”

“Right,” Frank chuckled as they all got up from their comfy seat on the mattress, being too tired to fight it, Curtis gently helped you lay down, tugging the duvet over your curled-up form.

“Hey,” Ransom poked his head into the room as the rest began to filter out, “I thought you might like this,” you were surprised to see him have a small glass of water in his hand for you. Not simply placing it on the bedside table by your head, he kneeled down next to you and held it out, “here,” expecting for you to take it, “I swear, chugging a glass of water helps with the hangover,” sliding his free palm under your head to raise it up.

“Thank you,” you smiled wearily as you slowly accepted it and raised it up towards your lips.

Noticing that you were only taking a small sip, his fingers found the bottom of the glass and pressed it up further, “all of it,” he tilted it for you to down it all, “or else it doesn’t work.”

Coughing lightly as you lowed the now empty glass, it left an odd taste in your mouth, though you just summed it up to be the handiwork of some of the strong beverages you had consumed during the night working its way up again.

“Thanks, Ransom,” you groggily patted his cheek, “you’re so sweet.”

His eyes flickering over your tired face, smooshed against the pillow, he smirked, “goodnight,” got back up and strolled out past Curtis still lingering in the doorway, arms crossed and watching over you like a guard dog.

“Night,” you quietly called out after him as you saw his frame disappear towards the furthest room down the hallway. Redirecting your attention back to your friend, you hummed, “go to bed, Curt. You gotta still be super sore from last night.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Oh, so you’re just gonna stand there all night, fall asleep on your feet and act as my sleep paralysis demon for the night?” you joked with half-closed eyes.

A small laugh bubbled out of him as he finally moved, “sleep well, angel,” he uncrossed his arms and reached out for the doorknob to tug it closed.

“Goodnight, Curtis,” you snuggled further into the pillow as you felt sleep overtake you like a wave crashing the shore, adding absentmindedly under your breath, “love you.”

“Hmm…” you hazily blinked your heavy lids open, roused by the pinching pressure between your thighs. Looking up at the dimly lit figure, you mumbled fuzzily, “w-what?” unsure if this was real life or a dream as the whole bed spun beneath you and you felt like you were floating.

“Shh, go back to sleep, angel,” Ransom’s grunt pierced your ears as his palm pressed over the bottom half of your face, silencing any words you might speak, “It’s alright, daddy’s got you,” a shy cry vibrated against his hand as you felt him rock against you, finally noticing fully the unexpected sensation of his thick girth stretching you out, “just be a good girl and lay right there, let me have a little slice of heaven.”

Keeping your exhausted legs spread wide apart, his determined hips acting as a door stop, he moaned quietly, “fuck, it really did do the trick,” he looked down at your dazed form, awake enough to be present for him, but unknowingly sedated enough for you not to fight back, “almost a shame you won’t be able to remember any of this in the morning,” he slid his hand down to squeeze your throat, pinching your rapid pulse and making the world even more blurry, “look at you, fucking out like a perfect little doll. You wanna be doll, huh? My own personal little fucktoy?”

Fighting to keep your eyes open, your whole body rocked at his movements as he frantically picked up his pace, selfishly pounding into you, melting on top of you and pressing your sedated body further into the bed.

“You know, I barely needed to touch you a second before you soaked my fingers, you clearly want this as much as I do,” he tightened his grip on your throat, “you need this, you need me,” stifled moans flowed from his lips as he unmercifully pounded into you, scratching his own vile itch, “poor you, none of your boyfriends ever touch you properly. That’s just what you need, isn’t it?” he mocked as your fluttering cunt tried to squeeze him out, expelling him from your body, “you just need your tight little pussy to be stretched out? Just need some good dick? Don’t worry, angel,” you vaguely felt his tongue flicker against your slightly numbed skin, “as long as I am here to help, I’ll keep your pussy sore, keep it filled up,” you just managed to catch him growl before you lost the forlorn battle and your body dozed off again.

Waking up with a low groan, you quickly sprung up, feeling the contents of your stomach fighting their way out. With no time to entertain the surprising presents of Curtis already curled up at the foot of the mattress, you bolted out of bed and ran out the door, thankful for the close proximity to the bathroom as you soon found yourself kneeling in front of the toilet, regretting every sip you had indulged in as they burned your entire chest on their way out again.

Feeling as your loose hair suddenly got picked up and gently held back, you heard the warm rumble of Curtis’ voice as he said, “wow, okay, alright,” his large palm found your spine, soothingly caressing it as you hurled your guts out, “it’s alright, angel. Just get it all out.”

“Urgh,” you groaned, clutching the cold porcelain as you spat out the fowl tang, “I am never drinking again,” keeping your head over the bowl till you were sure you had gotten it all out. With a heavy sigh, you slumped back, colliding softly with the mass of your friend.

“You okay?” he asked, lightly running his hands over your goosebump-ridden form.

“I think so,” you blinked up into his steely eyes, the reddened look to them flying over your exhausted head, “at least I made it to the bathroom this time,” you tried to joke with a half-hearted smile.

Letting your body weakly droop down, sighing in relief as you felt the cold tile hug your form, you heard Curtis notice, “no, no, you can’t fall asleep out here,” feeling his fingers already slide beneath your body.

“But it’s so comfortable,” you let out a small winch as he scooped you up into his arms, your frame draping over his strong limbs, and a dull pain stung your core. “Hey, what date is it?” you suddenly asked, trying to make sense of the uncomfortable tingle.

“I-, uh, why?” he thought, carrying you back into Steve’s room, your eyes noticing the other doors down the dark hallway were all open wide, even though it was the middle of the night.

“No reason, I just think I might be getting my period or something…”

“Miss Y/l/n?” a voice called, though you were a million miles away, “Miss Y/l/n?”

“Huh?” you blinked, shaking your head slightly as you unsteadily glanced up at the figure, “sorry, yes,” you reluctantly let go of your friend’s hand and rose from the seat you had been waiting in.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Curtis gave your hand one last squeeze, “I’ll wait right here for when you’re done, okay?”

He and the other guys hadn’t let you out of their sight since the terrifying news had spread like wildfire yesterday morning and rocked the entire campus to its core.

“Okay,” you nodded weakly, not truly present as you followed the stranger inside.

Pulling out a chair at the cold table, you sat down and averted your gaze from the walls of the bare conference room provided by the school for the law enforcements to use for their investigation.

“The detective will be right in, you just sit tight,” the figure spoke before they closed the door behind them, leaving you alone in the makeshift interrogation room.

You didn’t know how long you were in there, maybe a minute, maybe ten, but soon you heard the door creak open once more and a voice, long forgotten, found your ears, “hello, I’m detective Levinson, I will be conducting this-”

“Ari?” you blinked up at your elder childhood friend in amazement, the nauseating feeling of grief momentarily washing away at his unexpected presence as he sat down opposite to you, “what are you doing here?” your eyes drifted over his informal suit, the jacket missing and the sleeves sloppily rolled up passed his burly forearms, “and when did you stop being a beat cop?”

“Uh,” he blinked, a solemn expression washing over his stern face, softening it significantly, “around a year ago,” he then sighed deeply and said, “I really hoped there had just been another Y/n Y/l/n here at this school…”

Effectively bringing you back down to earth, “oh, yeah… will this be a problem? Can you not do this if you already know me?”

“No, no, it’s not that. I just-,” his head tilted gently to the side, “this isn’t something I ever wanted you to go through.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you nodded shyly, “yeah, well, I am.”

Looking over you a moment, taking in the small changes you had adapted in the years since you had last seen each other, he offered a genuine, “I’m sorry,” and attempted to catch your weary gaze.

“It’s not your fault,” you glanced down at your hands as your fingers once again began to dig nervously into your skin, leaving angry little half-crescent marks in its wake, “you’re not the one running around murdering students,” you awkwardly attempted to joke.

Exhaling lowly, he then opened the file in front of him and laid out a small tape recorder in the middle of the table, “are you ready to begin?”

“Yeah.”

Pressing on one of the side buttons on the recorder, Ari then announced methodically, “can you please state your name for the record?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

“And for the record, are you speaking to me voluntarily?”

“I am.”

Glancing over the open folder sprawled out in front of him, he asked, “what was your relationship with the victim?”

“Ransom, he-, um… he was a friend. I honestly didn’t really know him for too long, but he lived with some of my best friends, so it just seemed pretty natural for him to also become a part of our little group, if you’d call it that.”

“And you last saw Mr Drysdale when?”

“At the party Saturday night. I crashed at their flat after that, so it was probably early Sunday morning that I saw him last, when he was on his way to bed, I think.”

“Did anything happen to him that night? Anything unusual? His behaviour? Someone he interacted with? Anything you can think of that stands out?”

“Uhm,” you thought back, remembering the heated kiss you had shared in the bathroom, though looking back into Ari’s studying eyes, you couldn’t help but lie and say, “no, I don’t think so. It was just a party, you know,” the thought of telling your childhood crush that you drunkenly made out with a guy sent your stomach turning, crushing the truth before it could crawl out.

“Alright,” he nodded, “well, if you do remember anything, please reach out, we’re running the bulk of the investigation from here, so you know where I’ll be.”

“Still have your number,” you forced an awkward laugh.

“Right,” he sucked in a breath and averted his piercing gaze, “so, uhm, I don’t think I have anything else to ask you right now. Thank you for your cooperation with the investigation.”

“Of course,” you watched as his fingers wrap around the tape recorder, clicking the protruding button and making it stop, “it-, um,” you felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyes fell upon you once more, making the polite words seem that much harder to muster, “it really is good to see you again. Nice to see that you’re doing good,” then added jokingly, “that your mom still hasn’t talked you into cutting your hair,” a sincere smile tickled your lips at the mention of the warm woman living next door to your own parents.

Even though it was clearly forced, your words still conjured a genuine reaction from the guy who used to babysit you, “yeah, no, you know she’s never winning that battle,” he chuckled, shaking his head lightly, “it’s, uh, it’s great to see you as well. You-, um… yeah…” he dropped whatever compliment was on the tip of his tongue and averted his gaze, “I don’t wanna keep you any longer, you can go, you probably have classes to get to.”

“I actually don’t,” you informed him, though still slowly got up from your seat, “our professors have given us all some time off to-, uh, you know…”

“Yeah…” he nodded understandingly, his vision following your form as you made your way towards the door.

Pausing just before your fingertips grazed the doorknob, you looked back, timidly chewing on your bottom lip, “hey, Ari?”

“Yes?” he responded quickly, clearly still completely captivated.

Finding it difficult to even breathe properly in his presence, especially when those soulful eyes were locked upon yours, you found that your words crumbled before they even got to see the light of day, “I-, um…” then hastily scrambled your brain for a makeshift, “good luck.”

Breathing out a soft smile as he watched you nervously fiddle with the door handle, he said, “thanks, Y/n.”

It had been Monday morning that a garbage man had found Ransom’s body in a dumpster on the far side of campus. Even though they had tried to contain the news, it still spread like a wildfire, and come lunch that day, it was the only thing any student could talk about.

The frat quickly got sealed off as an active crime scene as it had been the last place witnesses had seen him alive, forcing the rest of the guys to temporarily bunk up with friends in their dorms. You felt a bit ashamed about the immense relief you felt at that small detail, the comfort of having each one of them fight over who got to stay with you being something you welcomed with open arms. In the end, it was both Curtis and Steve who stayed with you, Natasha giving you the room and staying with her newfound beau in the meantime, giving you the entire space for a while.

The guys had always been protective of you, but it almost seemed to have grown over the past few gloomy days. Not a second passed by where at least one of them wasn’t at your side, holding you as you cried, walking with you through the crowded campus or just keeping you company, making sure you weren’t alone. You just added it up to be their version of freaking out and buying into the whole conspiracy that it hadn’t been a drug deal gone wrong as so many had assumed of the recently deceased playboy with a penchant for illicit substances, but actually someone on campus, a stone-cold killer masking as just the person next to you in your lit class.

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Me?” your brows furrowed in Lloyd’s direction, “why me? If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you just go ask him yourself?”

Chiming in, Jake tilted his head, “well, you did say you know the guy.”

Exhaling lowly, you averted your gaze, your crossed arms tightening over your chest, “yeah, you could certainly say that…”

“So just go, bat your eyelashes at him for a bit and figure out how much he knows,” Lloyd tried to persuade you, though even his ever-present cocky charm couldn’t sway you this time.

Previously assuming that the whole conversation had just gone over Curtis’ head, as he had just quickly sat beside you and stared out the window, he suddenly perked up, “we just-…” he struggled to vocalise, “if it really is someone here on campus… just the thought you sitting in class with them or-, fuck, anything, it just-…” like a magnet, your fingers naturally found his own in a comforting squeeze, “angel, we just wanna keep you safe and the thought of someone like that running around terrorising the school-… just please go figure out if he has a suspect yet. See if he has got any leads.”

From the moment you had said goodbye to the familiar detective, shame about not telling him the whole truth had nearly eaten you alive. You had lied to not only a person you had known your whole life, but also a law enforcer. It was insufferable, like a snowball rolling down a hill and growing bigger and bigger with each accumulated snowflake.

“Fine,” you cracked, the shameful storm inside your body becoming too much to bear, “I’ll do it.”

“Knock, knock,” you said with a small smile as you pushed the ajar door open completely.

“Y/n,” Ari’s spine straightened in surprise, his eyes no longer glued to the computer screen before him, “what are you doing here?”

“Thought you might be hungry,” you held up your alibi for coming in the form of a takeout bag, “it’s from this little Indian place downtown,” you shut the door behind you before plopping the crinkly bag down on the table, the warm light from the desk lamp illuminating the brimming containers of curry stacked inside, “you like Indian, right?”

“I-, I do,” he said, still taken aback by the kind gesture, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thought it was the least I could do as a thanks for what you’re doing,” you waved a hand in the direction of the cluttered corkboard on the wall.

“It’s just my job, you don’t need to thank me,” he said modestly, leaning back in his chair and lending you to spot the silver pen his fingers fiddled with.

Lowering your gaze to stare at your shoes, you exhaled, “right…”

“So, um,” he filled out the awkward silence, “was there anything else you needed?”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes averted, “you’re obviously super busy and here I am just barging in,” your vision finally flickered up to lock with his, already steadfast on you, “I just, uh…” your breaths became more jagged as his sky-like eyes captivated your own, “there was actually something else I wanted to talk to you about, something I wanted to tell you.”

“Alright…” he nodded, listening intently.

Blowing out a shaky breath, you revealed, “I lied, something did happen that night.”

“Okay,” his brows furrowed, though not as much as you had feared, “what was it?” your anxious brain haven already thought of a million different dramatic punishments he could penalise you with.

“I, uh…” you squeezed your eyes shut nervously, “I kissed him,” your pained voice rushed to force out, “at that party. It was in the bathroom and almost became something else, but, um yeah… we kissed… me and Ransom…” you peaked just one of your eyes open, your tense shoulders nearly pressing against your ears at this point, “I’m really sorry, I just felt like couldn’t tell you something like that, not you. I won’t be arrested for hiding this information, will I?”

“No, no,” Ari quickly rose from his seat, “Y/n, you’re okay,” he stepped closer to you as he attempted to calm your uncalled-for panic, “you won’t be arrested.”

“Oh,” you breathed, “good,” feeling your shoulders begin to drop back down again, “you know how my mind tends to freak out.”

“Yeah,” he nodded softly, “I do…” his words genuine as memories conjured the whisper of a smile to appear upon his lips, “thank you for telling me.”

Awkwardly, you flashed him a tight-lipped smile, grateful that uncomfortable moment had passed, you recalled the other reason for why you had come, “so…”

“So…” he echoed.

“Do you have any leads, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That’s classified information, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“I know…” you averted your gaze and scrabbled your brain for what you could do or say to get him to tell you, “it’s just, I’m so scared all the time. The school was always a place that made me feel safe, till now…” although your intentions behind those words weren’t completely truthful, the statement wasn’t that far off, “it was just worth a try asking you.”

Holding your gaze, you could almost see his heartstrings get tugged as his brows quivered in compassion, “I-… I do have something. If you didn’t know, we just finished sweeping the victim’s living quarters, so if they haven’t already been notified, your friends should be able to move back in by tomorrow, but we also found something, not there, but in proximity to the dump site, there was a knife with traces of the victim’s blood on it. It’s in the lab right now as we speak, trying to decipher if there are any identifiable prints on it.”

“Oh my god…” you felt goosebumps sting at every inch of your skin.

“You haven’t heard any details about what state his body was found in, have you?”

“No…” both from avoiding the papers and keeping to your dorm, you might be the only student on campus not aware of how your late friend had died, “he was stabbed?”

“That was decisively what killed him, yeah, but he was brutally beaten before that.”

“Holy shit, that’s-…” you shuttered, your eyes just now noticing the nauseating photos pinned on the board beside you, “fuck… I don’t know how you do this all day, deal with these kinds of things.”

“It gets easier over time,” he shared, his worried eyes scanning your face a moment before apprehensively uttering, “this might be a really stupid question, but how are you holding up?”

“I-…” you toyed with the thought of lying to him yet again, but then opted to share the truth, “I am not doing so good, to be honest. I could probably count the number of hours I’ve slept in the last few days on one hand, or so I’ve been told. I don’t think it feels like I’ve slept at all, but apparently I have, just a little bit.”

Sucking in a pained breath, he murmured, “I’m sorry. I can help find someone you can talk to, if you want.”

“No, it’s alright,” his kind offer made it easier for you to look away from the horror plastered all over the office walls, “I mean, I’m not alone, that fact has become crystal clear throughout all of this.”

“Yeah, I kinda pieced that together,” he spoke in a much different manner than before, causing your brows to crinkle, “I conducted all the other interviews. It’s nice that you’ve made friends, making the most out of your college experience,” he said in a tone, almost reminiscent of jealousy.

Averting your eyes, memories you so desperately tried to keep at bay pried their way in and snuffed out the fuming flicker his resentment had ignited, “hey Ari?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know?” you asked wearily.

“Know what?”

“Did you know all of those years, growing up together?” you lifted your vision once more as he offered you a questioning hum, “did you know that I was in love with you?”

Taken aback, it took a bit before he managed to answer, “no, I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ever call me? You just left.”

“I was getting married, Y/n. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not fuck the girl you used to babysit,” you shot back coldly, “what even was I to you?”

“I-… I don’t know,” his frustrated words came out breathy, “do you think I planned for any of that to have happened? To sleep with you of all people? I didn’t. But when I came home that summer and saw you again, saw who you had become, I don’t know, everything just changed, you changed. I fully thought that you’d to still be that same little annoying brat you used to be, but you really weren’t. I didn’t expect it to happen, I didn’t expect you to suddenly do something like that to me, have that kind of power over me!”

“So, you just decided to break my heart instead? I was mad for you, for as long as I could remember. That summer was the happiest I’d ever been and then you just up and left in the middle of the night without a word. Did you even think to imagine what it was like for me to run around that morning looking for you and instead finding an invitation for your wedding? I had to hear from your fucking parents that you had just come home to prepare things before the big day. You hadn’t even mentioned to me once that you were engaged, or even as much as just in a relationship. Was any of it even real to you or was I just your last bit of fun before you got tied down?”

“It was, Y/n,” he insisted sincerely, “it was the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

“Then why did you go without as much as a goodbye? You know how much that broke me?”

“Yeah, well you seem to be doing just fine now,” he said pettily.

“Excuse me? You don’t get to say something like that to me. You were the one who broke my heart, you don’t get to judge how I glued it back together. Just go back home to your wife, why don’t you.”

Suddenly looking back at you in confusion, Ari then illuminated carefully, “Y/n, I’m not married.”

“What?” you blinked.

“I mean, I know you weren’t there that day, but I thought my mom at least had told you,” the gears turning inside of him were nearly visible to the naked eye, “I couldn’t go through with it.”

“What? Why?”

Biting his tongue as he held your eye, he then exhaled, “because I didn’t think I should get married if I was in love with someone else.”

Sucking in a stunned breath, you saw tears cloud your vision, “b-but… you never even called…”

“I know I didn’t,” he concurred heavily, his eyes unable to look away from your glossy ones. Feeling as if you might faint, you saw his woeful vision flicker down towards your lips, “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

But just as you saw him slowly inch his face closer and closer to yours, a sharp intake of air stung your lungs as you raised a hand up as a barricade, “I can’t…” too scared of history repeating itself, “we can’t…”

Sighing deeply, his eyes traced the tear that rolled down your cheek, “I know…”

You had just been helping the guys move back into the frat. That was all you had been doing. One moment you were all laughing, actually having a normal and pleasant moment for once, and the next, two officers were barging down the door and reading Lloyd his rights.

You’d nearly lost it completely and Curtis had to hold you back so that you didn’t go scratch one of the officer’s eyes out. The man in the cuffs however took it with style, only trying to break through your hazy to let you know that he would be fine and for the others to take care of you, after all, this wasn’t his first rodeo down to the station, although those times it had only been for petty crimes like bar room brawls and such.

“But I mean, how did it even happen?” you thought out loud a while later, the miranda rights still ringing in your ears like a triggering song you just couldn’t get out of your head, “that’s what my mind keeps going back to,” you had finally calmed down after what felt like forever of the guys talking out of marching down to the station to do something, anything to get Lloyd out. Completely powerless, you sat curled up at the end of the couch as words flowed from your exhausted lips, “how could someone like him be killed? He was such a nice guy.”

Not being able to stand it any longer, Curtis pipped up from the armchair on the other side of the living room, “no, he really wasn’t,” your bolstering words about the deceased being too much for him to take without cracking, “he was a rich creep and everyone knew it,” frustratingly, he gesticulated, “with everything that he did to you, how can you just sit there and say that he was a nice person? The guy drugged you and violated you in your sleep for fuck sake!”

The room went dead quiet as soon as those words left his lips.

“…what are you talking about?” your voice no higher than a whisper as you watched your burly friend shrink in regret. “Curtis,” you repeated more sternly this time as he didn’t offer an explanation, “what do you mean? What did you do?” your voice broke as thoughts about if Lloyd’s arrest hadn’t been a misunderstanding after all entered your mind.

“You can’t tell her,” Frank shot a glare at the fighter, “we had a deal.”

“Yeah, well that was before Lloyd got fucking arrested!” Jake chimed in, panic shining clear through in his tone, “she’s a part of this, has been since the very beginning. She has a right to know.”

Finding your wide eyes in the crowd, Curtis asked you wearily, “you really wanna know what happened that night?” hugging your knees tighter to your chest, you gave him a small nod in confirmation, “fine, I’ll tell you.”

…

“Is she okay?” Curtis pushed the ajar door open further to ask, haven, on his way to the bathroom, caught sight of an out of breath Ransom tugging the covers back over your passed out form.

The head of the cashmere-clad man snapped up at the sign of company, the sudden alarm that began to bloom on his features was quickly drowned out by his usual arrogant air, “yeah, man,” he shot back defensively, rushing to get out of the room, “she’s fine,” sounding like it had been a completely crazy question to ask.

Furrowed brow staying put, Curtis uttered slowly, “alright, but I think I’m just gonna check myself, if you don’t mind.”

“I said she’s fine!” Ransom slammed the door shut behind him, prohibiting the man now only inches from him from entering, “just go back to your own room!”

Worry and suspicion only growing at the obvious fibs, Curtis demanded, “what were you doing in there? What did you do?”

“What are you talking about?” he scoffed back.

“What did you do to her?” Curtis took a looming step closer just as their raised voices began to stir some of the other slumbering residents.

“I didn’t do a thing,” he cockily dared a chuckle, “calm down.”

“I will not fucking calm down,” Curtis barked back before attempting to call to you through the closed door, “angel, you okay?”

Leaning against the wall beside his own room, Jake rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he groaned, “guys, can you not yell in the middle of the night? Some of us are kinda trying to sleep here.”

Frank, as well haven appeared, seemed a little more alert at the sudden commotion in the hallway, “hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” their suspicious friend waved a hand, “Curtis is just being a little bitch and freaking out for no reason,” the ostentatious gesture granted the opposing man an opportunity to slip past and enter the room.

Nearly kicking the door down, Curtis rushed to your side, examining your unconscious form with worried eyes, “angel?” the dim lights streaming in from the hallway just barely letting him notice how wrinkled and haphazard the t-shirt he’d lent you just a few hours before was on you.

“Jesus, just let her sleep, dude.”

Ignoring Ransom’s words of warning, Curtis tried once more, “Y/n?” touching your skin lightly before giving you a gentle shake, “come on, wake up for me, baby,” his heart nearly beat out of his chest as he unsuccessfully tried to stir you, the shallow rise and fall of your abdomen not granting him as much comfort as it should have.

Nearing the end of the hall, Frank asked once more, “what’s going on?” side-eyeing Ransom warily, “is she okay?”

“Of course she’s okay,” the trust fund kid scoffed.

“The fuck she is,” Curtis’ head whipped back in the direction of Ransom’s silhouette in the doorway. Getting back up on his feet, his sharp intakes of air causing his shoulders to rise, he stormed back out and demanded, “what did you do? Why were you in here and why the fuck is she not waking up?”

“Did you not see how much she had to drink tonight?” Ransom defensively gestured to your passed-out form on the narrow bed, “I was just checking up on her,” and with a heavy sigh abandoned the argument entirely and descended the stairs.

Catching Curtis’ arm just in time to stop him from storming down after the man at the centre of the quarrel, Frank tried to catch the darting eyes of his friend as he asked firmly, “Curtis, what’s going on?”

“I saw him in there, hovering above her like a creep.”

Already worried eyes suddenly growing in alarm, “he was in there?” Frank quickly shared a panicked look with Jake, both now sharing the same inkling of what horrible thing had occurred, “alone with her?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Frank gasped, “did you say she’s not waking up? She is still breathing though, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s just out cold. Why?”

“Oh my god…” Jake shuttered, his interrupted slumber now long forgotten.

“What? What is it? What aren’t you guys telling me?”

Exhaling lowly, Frank carefully began to explain, “Curtis, you know that my sister goes to Bayshore, right?”

“Um, sure, yeah?” unsure as to why that fact was significant.

“Well, she told me about this student who overdosed after being drugged and raped. The guy was apparently caught and everything but just came from a wealthy enough family to not only never be convicted, but also keep the news out of the papers. Curtis, that’s where Ransom transferred from.”

Seeing nothing but red, Curtis stormed down the stairs. On his determined path to the kitchen where the object for his bubbling rage now stood, leisurely sipping from a glass of water. Curtis narrowly caught sight of Lloyd as he finally stumbled through the entrance from his drawn-out merriment, uttering a hushed apology to the bulky frame of Steve on the couch for the way he had carelessly slammed the front door shut behind him.

Only rolling his eyes at the sight of Curtis, Ransom didn’t even lower his glass as the fuming figure neared, “dude, I already told you, I didn’t do a thing-” though the rest of his provoking words got squashed as Curtis’ fist suddenly collided with his jaw, swiftly grabbing onto his soft sweater before he could crumble like the shattered glass now scattered across the cool tile, “what the fuck!” water splashing onto both of their feet.

“What did you give her?” Curtis barked, his fingers digging into the intricate, stained knit so hard that they threatened to poke through to the other side.

“Give who what?” appalled glare piercing as he fought against the hold.

“Y/n!” he shook him heatedly, “what did you give her?”

“I didn’t give her shit, man,” Ransom just managed to spit out before white knuckles collided with his face once more.

“Did you touch her? Because I swear to fuck, if you laid even as much as one finger on her, I’m gonna-”

“Oh, I see,” he actually dared to chuckle, a bit of crimson already staining the pearly whites he flashed, “you’re jealous that you didn’t get with her tonight.”

Landing another raging blow, Curtis yanked him in close and growled, “you shut up and answer my question! Did you touch her?”

Scoffing through his laboured groans of agony, Ransom finally disclosed smugly, “of course, I did, man. She’s been all over me all night long, begging for me to give it to her good.”

The rest of the frat haven now clustered in the kitchen as well, staying in the periphery, Frank accused, “what did you give her? Was it the same as the girl you killed back at Bayshore?”

The deep-pocketed man’s eyes flickered over Curtis’ shoulder, bruises blooming and swelling up his vision, “excuse me?”

“The rape victim that overdosed at your old school?” the bridge of Frank’s nose twitched in fury, “it was you that killed her, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t do anything of the sort, all I did was show those girls a good time, it’s not my fault some can’t keep up.”

“Is that what you think happened tonight?” Curtis hauled him against the fridge, gaining the man’s attention once more, “you call assaulting Y/n a good fucking time?”

Keeping his head held high, Ransom slurred, “what are you ashamed you’re not man enough to rough your girl up a bit and give her what she really likes?”

Huffing like a bull, he uttered, “she does not like it like that.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me why I had her moaning the way I did, dripping down on ol’ Steve’s bed like a cheap whore. Kind of a shame that she won’t remember any of it in the morning, just hope I fucked her good enough that at least some part of her won’t forget…”

…

“Oh my god…” you shuttered, unable to look any of them in the eye, “oh my god,” your palm shot up to clasp over your lips to choke the shaky cry that forced its way out, “I thought-…” vision darting everywhere and nowhere at the same time, “I thought it had been a dream,” tears streamed down your ghostly face as the hazy nightmare suddenly came into focus, “oh my god! I-… I knew him,” you jaggedly tried to piece it all together as vile stung in the back of your throat, “he was-, he was my friend. I hadn’t known him that long, but he was my friend. I-… he wasn’t just some dangerous stranger in the back of an ally threatening to kill me, he was my friend.”

…

The incoherent screams of Curtis slowly subsisted as his rampant blows finally slowed down. Slowly backing up, chest heaving, horror took over his eyes as he saw how far he had been pushed, watching as blood bubbled out of Ransom’s mouth, guggling his words.

“Just you fucking wait till my family finds out,” he weakly continued his threats from his wrecked position on the tiled floor, “do you have any idea how much power money gives you? I can squash you all like little bugs, ruin any chance you might have of a pathetic future and keep angel all to myself.”

Unable to look away, Steve suddenly uttered as Curtis shakily retreated into the shadows, “…guys, we have to call an ambulance.”

Whipping his head around, Jake protested, “no, don’t!” ready to swat away any phone that might be raised, “he’s right. He has the upper hand no matter if we get him to a hospital or not.”

“So, what do we do? Look at him,” Steve woefully gestured to the beaten playboy crumbled on the floor, “he’s dying. We can’t just leave him here!”

“No…” Lloyd sighed, his demeanour seeming surprisingly calm and level-headed under the circumstance, “but we can use what little time we have left before the sun comes up to our advantage…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank’s brows furrowed frightfully.

In a wide arc around Ransom’s broken form, Lloyd made his way over to one of the kitchen counters and pulled open a drawer, “he said it himself,” he exhaled lowly as he accepted his fate, “he is more than capable of making not only angel’s life hell, but also all of ours,” his tone cold, he riffled through the utensils, “from where I’m standing, there’s only one way for us to get out of this with minimal casualties,” and fished out a knife, the steel reflecting in the low light seeping in through the other room.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Steve gasped, “we’re not murdering him!”

“So you’d rather try and explain his corpse just lying here in our kitchen? This way we get the upper hand, we speed up the process and use the remainder of the night to our advantage till the rest of campus wakes up, hide him somewhere else, somewhere he won’t be found,” Lloyd stressed, “we have to kill him, it’s the only way.”

“Shit dude…” Frank breathed, he and the rest realizing that he was right, “where would we even hide him?”

After only pondering it a second, Jake pipped up, “it’s trash day tomorrow,” tensely sharing glances with the rest, “if we get him to one of the big dumpsters on the other side of campus, drop him in there, no one will know! And even if they do eventually discover parts of him out on some dump, they won’t be able to get anything off of him anyways at that point.”

“I-…” Curtis’ shaky voice finally filled the room, guilt seeping through in his brassy timbre as he asked what no one else would, “…who’s gonna do it?”

Not letting the others even consider that weight, Lloyd swiftly declared, “I’ll do it.”

“What?” the trembling fighter’s eyes finally lifted.

“If they actually do somehow manage to nail us for this, it should be me that goes down for it,” he stated deliberately, “always knew I’d go to prison at some point just like my old man, this way it wouldn’t be for anything stupid.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 17 days ago

Text

To Those Who Wait 2

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. 💖

“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.”

“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine.

“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.”

She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh.

“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.”

“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.”

You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.”

You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.”

“Right, sure.”

You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath.

You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up.

The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message.

‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’

You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette.

‘I can dig some out’ you type back.

You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place.

Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering.

You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple.

The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde.

Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television.

Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis.

‘Here. I think.’

‘I’ll come down’. You type back.

You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more.

‘Right by the door.’

You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet.

You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod.

“Not at all.”

“I shoulda warned you,” he says.

“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin.

“Oh?”

“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down.

“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.”

He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there.

“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side.

“Sure, uh... right.”

You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick.

“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street.

“Ready,” you assure him.

He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it?

When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night.

You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing.

“We’re here,” he proclaims.

You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously.

“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar. “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.”

“Mhm, good friend.”

“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.”

You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?”

He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.”

You frown. What a strange answer.

You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near.

“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow.

He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.”

“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp.

He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.”

He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant.

“You got a lot of experience?”

“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.”

“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself.

“Go ahead.”

“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.”

“You want a few tips?”

“Think I need them.”

“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.”

You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.”

You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder.

“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.”

He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening.

Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.”

You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.

“Lucky,” you say.

“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?”

“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.”

“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.”

You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun.

“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.”

“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head.

“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.”

🎯

The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind.

“That was nice,” he says. “I think.”

You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike.

“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.”

You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.”

“You had fun?” He asks.

“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.”

“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.”

“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.”

“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh.

“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”

He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?”

“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“I’ll text,” he mutters.

“I’ll answer.”

You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew.

You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed.

You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date!

Was it really real? After everything? You think so.

You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished.

Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all.

You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal.

You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better.

Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid.

You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod.

It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for...

‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’

You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit.

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it.

You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb.

You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away.

You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space.

Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares.

“Slut.”

The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch.

You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down.

You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else.

You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp.

‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight.

The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly.

‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’

‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send.

He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’

‘No thx. Not interested’

‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’

You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for.

‘No. Pls don’t message again.’

You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How?

The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence.

He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too.

It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret.

You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before?

📱

“I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window.

“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says.

“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.”

His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.”

“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.”

“You’re right though,” he snorts.

“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.”

“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.”

“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.”

He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.”

The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands.

“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.”

“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain.

“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?”

“I like them but they still scare me,” you say.

“Really? Something actually scares you?”

“What do you mean?” You scoff.

He stares at you. “Do you really not know?”

“Know... what?”

“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.”

“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.”

“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.”

“RBF?” You wonder.

“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.”

You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away.

“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?”

🍿

The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.

You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths.

You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders.

“Scared yet?” He asks.

You giggle, “only a little.”

He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting.

You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder.

“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases.

“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.”

You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.”

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?”

“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer.

You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away.

He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?”

You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.”

“Can I do it again?” He asks.

You quiver and nod, “sure.”

He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer.

A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.

You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

“I need your bathroom. Sorry.”

You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you?

That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win.

You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself.

You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh.

No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote.

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Curtis asks.

“Yep.” You call back.

“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says.

You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night.

“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move.

“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.”

“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?”

He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?”

You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him.

“So why are you running away?”

He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'.

“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.”

He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.”

“So yeah...”

He narrows his eyes, “is that it?”

You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.”

You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.”

You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape.

“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.”

You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?”

He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?”

He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought. You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.

“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.”

#curtis everett #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #curtis everett x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #knives out #to those who wait #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #snowpiercer

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bigtreefest · 9 months ago

Text

A What in Church?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader (can be read as a continuation of Meet The Parents or alone)

Summary: Ransom comes with you and your family to church…and then comes with you at church 🥴 (I’m sorry, but I had to)

Word count: 2,728

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, SMUT, near-fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls, for the love of all that is holy, wrap it up), sex in front of a mirror, sex in a church😬, creampie, established relationship, swears, Ran is a sneaky li’l gaslighter but not towards you, lying in Church?, kissing, pet name usage, choking on one’s own saliva, implied female reader, li’l belly bulge

A/N: I hope God forgives me for thinking this up during church…

This is for the Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza set up by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18 with the prompts of characters cum together at the same time and praise.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

It was early Sunday morning when you dragged Ransom out of bed.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale, come on. You have to get up. We’re already running late and I’m not dealing with disapproving looks from my parents for punctuality. It’s already bad enough every time the church ladies give me a side eye when I show up.”

He sighed as he rolled over in his high thread count sheets, the sunlight now hitting his face causing him to squint. He looked at you through one open eye as he made a light scowl.

“Sweetheart, come back to bed. It’s too early. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” A sly smirk crept onto his face as he reached out and pulled your hips closer to the bed.

You put a hand on his forehead, trying your best and failing to push him away. “Ransom, no. The only reason I stayed over was to make sure we got there on time. My parents think you’re picking me up right now and neither of us are even showered. If you get up now, maybe I’ll let you join me. Then we can get going.”

His arms snaked from your hips and around to give your ass a squeeze. “Hm….deal.” He rasped out in his groggy voice before shifting to get up.

“Whose idea was it to join your family at the 8am service of church this week, anyway?” Ransom threw the covers off the side of the bed in a mini tantrum before rising on his knees on the mattress to be face-to-face with you. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly smoothing out the bed head before giving him a peck.

“Yours, baby. That’s what you get for trying to impress my mom.”

You fixed your makeup in the mirror of Ransom’s Beamer and smoothed down your baby blue linen dress after Ransom parked in the church parking lot. You turned to look at him as you straightened the collar of his shirt that peeked over his sweater.

“You look absolutely dapper. The church ladies are gonna love you. Probably enough for them to keep their judgy eyes off me. Now let’s just hope they don’t start asking my mom about a wedding date.” You grumbled the last part as you brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders before leaning back towards your own seat again and placing your hand on the door handle.

Ransom didn’t move a muscle as he sat there, leaning over the center console, with a look as deep at the ocean. That was weird. You’d expected him to have his cocky game face on, which he did, but his eyes showed something different.

“What? Is something wrong? Do I not look okay? Are you regretting agreeing to come along today?”

He sighed and shook his head before holding out his hand for yours. “No, you look heavenly. I am regretting sleeping in because if I wouldn’t have, maybe you would’ve actually let me touch you in the shower. I thought a shower with you meant with you, but you tricked me, you minx.”

You softly smiled at the beginning of his statement, placing your hand in his. As he kept going, you rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder. “Oh please. You and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten up for anything else. And if I would’ve let you touch me, we’d still be at your place.”

He shrugged before pulling you closer for a final kiss before heading in. It was the kind that left you breathless and speechless, and a little dizzy when he pulled away, but that could have been due to skipping breakfast, too. Your eyes were still closed when he spoke against your lips. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this that easily, though. Now stay here while I get your door. Gotta make sure the church ladies see me treating you well.”

Your jaw dropped as he gave you a smirk, fire rising in his gaze as he slipped out of the driver’s side and over to yours.

Ransom held your hand as he walked into the church, sliding into a pew near the back where your family had saved the two of you a seat. It was just in time for the service to begin. You were simultaneously filled with relief for not being late, but also anxiousness. You knew that when he held that look in his eye, Ransom was up to no good.

If someone had asked you what you’d gathered from the sermon so far, your answer would be ‘jack shit.’ You were too focused on Ransom, and the way his hand was creeping up your leg as he stared straight ahead. He looked enthralled by whatever the preacher was dragging on and on about, but you knew better from the way his lips curled just slightly at the corners and his ringed pinky finger was sliding under the hem of your dress. The cool metal gave you chills. Your breath hitched, just as you were salivating, imagining what Ransom could possibly have in store for you. Unfortunately, that didn’t make for a good combination, as you choked on your own saliva.

You tried your hardest to hold in your coughs, eyes watering, until you couldn’t take it anymore. They burst out of you and the sound of your coughs, one after another, echoed through the nearly silent room as you scrambled to get up and into the hallway. Ransom shot your parents a sympathetic look before wordlessly gesturing that he was going to check up on you. They nodded in response, glad you had found someone so caring and responsible.

You burst through the doors at the back of the room with Ransom hot on your heels. You fast walked into the family restroom and Ransom slipped in behind you. He locked the door and made his way to your hunched over form, your arms bracing you against the sink as you continued coughing and heaving, trying to catch your breath. Ransom rubbed your back in soothing circles until you took a final gasp for air and looked up at his reflection in the mirror with a scowl.

“You did this. This is your fault, Mr. Handsy.” It came out with the slightest rasp. Ransom’s face morphed from slight concern into suggestion. Now that he had made sure you were okay, he was more than happy to have you exactly where he wanted you all along: alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one out there snorting my spit. I could probably successfully swallow, unlike you.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to rile you up so you’d give in to him now since you didn’t earlier this morning. You’d never outwardly crumble that easily, though. Where was the fun in that?

“First off, you should be the one to know I’m great at swallowing. And secondly, if you believe you did nothing wrong, I think we should find you a neurologist for those wandering hands. Maybe the rings are causing nerve damage and cutting off the feeling in your fingertips.” Ransom couldn’t help but let out a small chortle at that. Good one, babe. But he knew what could push you a little farther. He knew how much you really did love the way his hands wandered, even if you’d say otherwise. He could tell right now even, as he shifted to stand behind you, soft fingertips tracing up the front of your thighs and under your flowy dress. His hand was in between your thighs, creeping dangerously close to your cotton panties. He used his grip to pull you back against him, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Oh honey, I don’t have to be able to feel my fingers to know how good they make you feel.” He ran his fingers over the dampening fabric as your breath hitched. Finally.

His grin grew wide as he slipped his pinky finger under the gusset of your panties and pulled it to the side, exposing your glistening folds to the cool air.

You hissed at the sensation as Ransom began running a finger through your wetness. If you were anywhere else but a church bathroom, he would have worked to pull even louder sounds from you than the tiny breaths and moans you were already making, but that’s not something that could be afforded right now. As his one hand continued to tease your entrance, the other moved to cover your mouth.

“Quiet, Sweetheart. You make a noise and I stop. Don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.” You nodded in acknowledgment and Ransom was satisfied with that response, kissing your temple that was collecting a thin shimmer from sweat already. Just as he was about to dip a finger in, though, the two of you heard music start. That meant service was almost over. They would play a few songs, and then everyone would rush out the doors, making it impossible for the two of you to leave the bathroom undetected and unsuspected of what was going on right now.

Ransom didn’t waste a second, though, pulling his hands off you to unzip his slacks and pull them down just low enough. His eyes locked in on yours in the mirror again, deep blue irises thin around lust and mischief-blown pupils.

“Sorry, sweetie. Don’t have time to prepare you. But you can handle that, right?” You didn’t have a chance to reply this time, as his hand found it’s place over your mouth again at the same time he fully sheathed himself within you.

The little squeak you made into Ransom’s hand when you were trying to hold back was music to his ears. Oooo, he liked that. He was gonna make sure to do whatever he could in the future so you’d make it again, but he didn’t have the time for it right now.

His hand that wasn’t over your mouth snaked to your tummy from where it was gripping your hip. Ransom could just barely feel the bulge pushing against your softness with each thrust and it drove him wild, as he sped up his thrusts and babbled into your ear.

“Yeah you can. You can take it. Look at you. Taking this so well. Being so good for me. I’d say you were an angel if we weren’t fucking like two whores in church right now.”

His vulgar words always did something to you, causing your eyes to roll back and your pussy to clench. That was Ransom’s favorite, especially when he found it out that his sharp tongue was something you actually enjoyed and rewarded him for, instead of punished. Despite his hand on your mouth, you were still working hard to keep yourself quiet, only letting out a low moan in response.

“Fuck, so good. So, gah-tight. You’re so perfect. I’m gonna take my hand off, okay? You gotta keep it down and I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You gripped harder against the sink as Ransom removed his hand, using it to hike your leg up on the edge of the counter, his hand that was previously on your stomach moving to rub your clit.

You gasped for air, before moving your own hand to your mouth. If you were at home, moans and curses would’ve been profusely spilling out of your mouth with how near your were to the tipping point. Ransom’s grunts in your ear we’re pulling you even closer to the edge when he licked your neck, the sweet taste of your perfume mixed with salty sweat hitting his tongue, and the debauchery of the gesture tossing you over the edge of your orgasm. Your knee gave out as you came, Ransom’s strong arms holding you up against the sink as you felt him swell and release in you at the same time, still rubbing your clit and shallowly thrusting for both of you to come down from your highs.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.” His breath was hot against your neck, but you were both pulled out of the post-orgasmic bliss by the sound of the music changing. The last song of service was playing and within a few minutes, everyone would be emerging into the hall.

Ransom pulled out of you faster than he had before, both of you moaning with oversensitivity and the abruptness of the action. You gained composure on your jelly legs before pulling your panties back into place and doing your best to fix your makeup in the mirror. Luckily, the smudges could be attributed to your coughing fit earlier, but Ransom’s rogue hairs that had flown forward and stuck to his forehead couldn’t. You quickly pushed them back into a decent position and straightened his collar before rushing into the hallway and taking a seat at an old pew that was next to a table with water bottles and cookies on it, set out for the social hour that always happened after service. Ransom grabbed a bottle and quickly chugged it down halfway, handing it to you just as the last song was ending.

“Here, hunch forward like you’re still recovering. And take this.” He was too good at convincing people of the scenes they had walked into. But how could you complain when it had gotten you out of trouble with the cops more times than you could count? Including after the two of you had been parked somewhere a little too long having car sex, or when he had driven just a little too recklessly while fingering you in the passenger seat. He always knew exactly how to manipulate the scene in his favor, convincing others to not believe their own eyes, but the stories he presented them instead. But he didn’t do it to you, never to you. He learned that the hard way, it’s better to be honest and do it with you. You were his teammate, who better to use his skills for than the one he loved? Bring it up though, and he’d deny it.

So you and Ransom sat there, your elbows on your knees and him rubbing circles on your back with his large, warm palm. Sure, it was performative, but it was also extremely comforting and reassuring, especially with the way he just rocked your world in the bathroom.

The church-goers began to file out of the double doors and into the hall. You looked up through your eyelashes to be greeted by your parents. They looked at you with confusion and a hint of concern when your dad crouched in front of you and your mom sat next to Ransom.

“Everything alright?” Your dad looked up into your eyes and you managed a nod, taking a sip from the water bottle and clearing your throat.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got into a coughing fit and couldn’t shake it. Much better now.”

Ransom heard the clarity with which you spoke. If he really wanted to be convincing, he should’ve had you suck him off. There wasn’t really the time for that, though. As much as he loved watching your lips wrapped around him, he came way faster inside you, and how could he allow for the evidence of scuffs on your knees when you were wearing such a pretty dress? Maybe next time, when you were in jeans.

Ransom was pulled out of his thoughts when your mom and dad spoke, thanking him for checking up on you.

“Oh no problem, don’t worry, I took good care of your girl. I always will.”

They smiled, and must’ve believed the scene in front of them, as the topic swiftly changed to what they wanted for brunch plans. Ransom met your gaze, giving a quick wink for only you to see before kissing the top of your head and giving his input to the conversation.

That was the last you saw of him for half an hour, though, as the church ladies descended, squeezing themselves between the two of you, oohing and ahhhing over your sly boyfriend. Every now and then, as they’d ask him a tidal wave of questions, his eyes would seek you, full of fire, secrecy, and love, paired with that signature smirk on his face.

Bonus A/N: I think something that this extravaganza has taught me is that I have a thing for mirrors….and that scares me. It’s so hot in fics, and sure, every time I walk past a mirror in real life, I’ve been told I stop, but I wasn’t aware of what a dangerous combination that made until now. Lord save me, but he’s probably too angry at me now bc I wrote this.

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 months ago

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Always Living in the Final Hour

Summary: Bachelor and bachelorette weekend shenanigans with the (almost) quadrouple.

Words: ~5.5k

Relationship(s): Ransom Drysdale x Ari Levinson, Ransom Drysdale x Ari Levinson x female!reader, Jake Jensen x female!reader (platonic - for now), little peeks at the quadrouple to come y’all.

Warning: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected anal sex, m receiving oral sex, rimming, feminization), established relationships, secrets revealed, mentions of homophobia, misunderstandings, they’re all cute and dumb and in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: I love them so much 😭

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on my fics follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You grinned when you heard the knock at your hotel room door, finishing putting your earrings in and adjusting your tits in your dress before pulling the door open and beaming at Jake.

“Hey… wow, look at you!” He gave you his own smile when he got a look at you, spinning you around then pulling you into a warm embrace once he’d taken you in. “You look amazing, you’re a fucking bombshell.”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking cute.” You giggled when he kissed you on the cheek, playing with the edge of his shirt and kissing him back before dragging him out the door. “Is everyone ready to go!”

“Yep, just waiting on your fine ass.” Jake laughed and smacked your ass playfully as you made your way to the elevator, giving you a mocking pout when you turned around and slapped his chest in retaliation before chewing on his lip with a bit of residual anxiety. “You’re really sure it’s okay for me to be here? They’re your friends and I’m just… some dude.”

“Yeah, some dude who’s sucked the same dick I have and is a giant sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes and dragged him after you onto the elevator, leaning against his chest and winding your fingers through his affectionately. “Plus, we’re officially besties after that skinny dipping incident.”

“Skinny dipping? I told you, I thought I walked through a spider web!” He tickled you and laughed when you pinched his cheek. “Felt like I had the creepy crawlies all over me. No one made you take your clothes off, weirdo.”

“That’s true, but I love being naked, and don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it!” You let him give you a tight hug and lift you off your feet once the doors opened to the lobby, waving at your group and laughing when they cheered as they spotted you. “So since we’ve seen all of each other, and spilled our guts over wine, and we’re best friends, you have to be at my bachelorette party, no arguments, blondie. Alright bitches! We doing any bars or going straight to the strip clubs?”

“Oh shit, is this what you use to fuel your jet, Levinson?” Ransom coughed after downing the shot Ari had handed him, frowning when the larger man just chuckled around his cigar and reached over to squeeze his thigh. “Is it even safe for me to smoke after drinking that?”

“It’s fine, don’t be a baby.” Ari grinned even wider when Ransom smacked his hand away, waving down the waitress to bring another bourbon for the groom. “Stick to your boring brown liquor, Drysdale. And just one more cigar, think your boys are getting antsy.”

“What? Oh my god.” Ransom rolled his eyes when he he looked towards where the frat boys were gathered, waving dismissively when Logan gestured meaningfully at his watch. “Yeah, go! We’ll meet you there. Ridiculous.”

“Mmhm, well, I think they were planning on there being a lot more strippers by this point.” Ari watched them leave before taking the new drinks from the waitress, giving her a large bill and winking at her when she smiled at him before shrugging when Ransom gave him a look. “What?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Ransom almost inhaled his scotch when Ari cooed sympathetically and scooted closer to him, letting out a delighted laugh when he placed his hand very high up on his thigh and leaned close to nuzzle at his jaw. “Ari! You’re such a whore!”

“And you’re so jealous, poor baby.” Ari bit Ransom’s ear gently before sliding his hand even higher, squeezing Ransom’s thigh and purring when the man whined and leaned into his touch. “I'm so sorry, pretty boy, you deserve all the attention, you’re getting married after all. Gonna have such a pretty wife to spoil you and treat you nice like you deserve.”

“Fuck, you know how worked up I get when anyone calls her my wife, you teasing bastard.” Ransom downed the rest of his drink and growled before turning to face Ari, practically crawling into the man’s lap when he finally slid his hand up to cup his bulge as he smashed their lips together. “I’m going to marry her, god she’s so fucking perfect.”

“You’re both perfect, shit.” Ari groaned when Ransom rocked his hips and sucked on Ari’s bottom lip, standing quickly and pulling the younger man with him before he had a chance to protest. “Don’t give me that look, I don’t wanna lose my membership to this place just because we’re both sluts. We’re gonna finish in the car.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Ransom whined when Ari pressed him against the side of the car and kissed him hungrily, letting him throw him into the backseat once he got the door open and yanking him on top of his body when they started to drive away. “We don’t even have time to do anything.”

“Nonsense, we have plenty of time.” Ari pulled Ransom’s knees around his hips and molded their lips together, humming when he felt his hard cock pressed against his own and ground into him. “We’re both nice and worked up, pretty sure I can get one out of you, you’re easy.”

“‘M not… shit.” Ransom tossed his head back and gasped when Ari pressed into him harder, whimpering when he felt his beard scratching against his throat as he licked that spot that drove him crazy and he rolled his hips up to meet him. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t stop.”

“Mmm, never sweet boy.” Ari sucked on the hinge of Ransom’s jaw and moaned when he felt the other man’s cock twitching through his slacks, increasing the speed of his hips and squeezing Ran’s waist when the man ran his fingers through his hair. “Give it to me, honey, just want you to enjoy your party.”

Ransom sobbed when Ari curled his hand around his neck and squeezed lightly, his body arching off the back seat as he yanked on the older man’s hair while his cock throbbed and pulsed while he came all over the inside of the pretty red panties you’d insisted he wear. He felt Ari’s cock twitching as well and grinned when the other man purred against his neck and licked his throat, at least until he heard the click of a camera shutter and slapped Ari’s shoulders while he laughed softly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ransom pouted and turned his face away when Ari tried to kiss him again, leaving the man to press his lips to his cheek and huffing when he saw him texting someone. “You sending that to her?”

“She said she wanted regular updates, and I think the first orgasm of the night is something she’d want to know about.” Ari shoved his phone back in his pocket and gripped Ransom’s chin, forcing his gaze back to him and giving him a sly smile as he rubbed their noses together. “Now quit being a brat and kiss me.”

Ransom couldn’t help but giggle when Ari suckled on his bottom lip before sliding his tongue into his mouth, winding his arms around his neck and sighing softly as he melted into the kiss. He had never been happier about his choice for best man, a weekend of sex with Ari interspersed with drinking and smoking and luxury clubs really was the perfect way to celebrate his pending nuptials. There wasn’t a thing he could think of that would ruin his good time, except maybe…

“What took you so…” both of them froze when the door opened and they were suddenly face to face with Logan, Ransom trying to decide between shoving Ari off and denying everything or just burying his face in the bear’s neck to hide. “What in the actual fuck, Drysdale?!”

You screeched happily when Jake whispered a filthy joke in your ear after you pointed out the gorgeous man across the dance floor who had been eyeing him, slapping his chest and biting his ear when he picked you up and spun you around. Once the song was over your whole group made its way back to your booth to do even more shots before heading to the strip club, the rest of the women just rolling their eyes and teasing you every time you and Jake got a little affectionate, mostly because whenever they did he turned absolutely pink and tried to splutter out an explanation, which was completely adorable. They were all totally in love with him, especially after he almost punched some asshole who didn’t want to take the hint that none of you were interested in doing body shots with him when he called you a bunch of drunk cunts. Of course, what actually ended up happening was you all dog piled the douche bag and managed to get in a few good licks before Jake finally pulled all of you off and herded you out of the bar while you screamed obscenities back at the chauvinist that made Jake crack up as soon as he was sure you were all okay, but after that every single one of you was officially in love with him.

“No, I can’t have tequila!” He was all pink again when you rested your head on his shoulder and gave him a messy grin as you held the shot in front of his face. “I really can’t, or I might actually go over there and ask that guy to smack me in the face with his dick.”

“You should, he’s hot!” You squealed and clapped happily when he took the shot from you with a cute little grumble and slammed it down. “C’mon, let’s go hook you up.”

“No, bombshell, no!” He laughed when you pouted at him when he refused to budge, pulling you close and tweaking your nose as he pulled you with the group towards the exit even as he started to feel warm and loose from the tequila. “This is your night, I’m not going to abandon you just to hook up with some, admittedly beautiful, random guy.”

“You’re so sweet, blondie.” You settled in his lap after you all climbed into the limo, letting out a drunk hiccup and walking your fingers across his broad chest with a hum. “I’m gonna find you a boyfriend, though. Gimme my phone, wanna see if my puppy is having a good time.”

Jake rested his cheek on the top of your head and chuckled while you played with his shirt absentmindedly, ignoring the chatter from the rest of the group as he reached into your purse and grabbed your phone. He didn’t mean to look at the screen, he really didn’t, but the picture came up and he couldn’t help it, his face blanching immediately as he slapped the phone down against the seat and tried to avoid looking at you.

“Jakey? What’s up?” You frowned when he just shook his head at you and pressed his mouth in a thin line. “Is something wrong? Give me my phone.”

“I ca… I can’t.” He was struggling to come up with a good reason he couldn’t give it to you, the tequila was getting to him. “It must have fallen out of your purse at the club.”

“What? Jake, I saw you pull it out of my purse.” Now you were annoyed, why was he being so sneaky all of a sudden? “Lemme see.”

“I can’t… shit!” He cursed himself when you managed to move faster than he thought you could and snatched the phone out of his grip, trying to wrestle it away from you and failing when you somehow pinned him to the seat and sat on his chest. “Baby, it’s nothing, don’t look at it!”

“What the fuck are you on about?” You ignored his continued protests as you unlocked your screen and pulled up your texts. “There’s nothing here. Why are you so worried?”

“Nothing? Ran is cheating on you!” He clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he said it, shaking his head when you gave him a very aggressive glare and all the other conversations on the limo stopped and suddenly your friends were all screaming about how they were going to kick that pretty boy’s ass.

“God, you’re all so fucking dramatic, calm down!” You had to start chucking ice at all of them when they started pulling up their phones to send threats to your fiancé, still staring daggers at Jake, even though there was no way you could stay mad at him, he was just trying to protect you. “Ransom is not cheating on me. It’s Ari!”

“Who cares who it is, I’m going to cut that man’s balls off!” Taylor dodged the plastic cup you threw at her as she kept cursing.

“No, I mean… thanks for this blondie.” Jake at least looked slightly embarrassed. “We’re kinda, sorta, but not totally, in a poly thing with the sex god.”

That shut all of them up, Jake’s eyes bugging out of his head as he stared at you while the rest of your friends just gave you blank looks that made you a little nervous. You had never planned on making this part of your relationship public, but here you were. You hoped Ran’s night was going better.

“It’s not a big deal!” Ransom felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest as he avoided the stares of his friends, all of whom looked very upset with him. “Nothing happened!”

“Oh, right!” He wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole, or that he could just go back to the hotel with Ari and spend the rest of the weekend letting him fuck every thought out of his head, instead of being stuck with all his friends scolding him in some strip club for hooking up with a guy. “That’s why you were both sporting pants tents and trying to suck each other’s faces off.”

“You boys need to calm down.” Ari rolled his eyes when they gave him nasty looks, sighing when he tried to put an arm around Ransom to comfort him and the man practically cowered. “I’m not gonna put up with any of your homophobic bull shit towards him, so lock it up.”

“What? Homophobic?” Dylan had the sense to at least look slightly embarrassed. “Who give a fuck about that, he’s cheating on his fiancée?”

“Yeah, news flash, we all know you’re bi, Drysdale.” Chaz shot a glare at Logan when he looked like he was thinking of making a joke. “No one cares.”

“You know?” Ransom hated how small his voice sounded, letting Ari put an arm around him this time and blowing out a shuddering breath when he leaned into the man without thought. “How?”

“Sloane told us, was trying to get all of us to dump you so she could make you totally dependent on her, like we’d leave you alone with that bitch. We’ve been waiting for you to come out for years.” Dylan shoved Logan when he started to open his mouth again. “But how could you do this to your girl, Ran, you’re fucking lost for her? You realize that all of our girls will kill us if they find out you cheated on her?”

“Alright, let’s all just relax.” Ari decided to take over since Ransom looked like he’d just been hit by a brick wall, pulling his phone up and scrolling up through the group chat. “No one is cheating.”

“Oh, and what would you call it?” Dylan took Ari’s phone and scowled as he looked at the screen, his expression melting into one of confusion as he read all the texts you sent about how pretty Ransom looked when he was choking on Ari’s dick and how much you loved both of them. “Huh.”

“What?” Chaz took the phone when Dylan handed it to him, blowing out a deep breath that had Ransom burning his face in his hands as he groaned and leaned into Ari even more. “Alright then. Are you… happy?”

Ransom just nodded, his growl drowned out by Ari’s when they heard Logan choke on a laugh once he got a look at the texts, Ari snatching the phone out of his hand when he started to scroll through the messages like a damn snoop. Everyone looked massively uncomfortable as all of them just stared at each other, Ransom chewing on his lips until Ari gripped his chin and tugged his mouth open with his thumb.

“Jesus Christ, everyone is so fucking uptight.” Logan rolled his eyes after a few minutes of awkward silence, leaning forward and clapping Ransom on the shoulder then snorting when the man jumped. “Look, Drysdale, I’m just happy that even though you’re getting married you’re still kind of a man whore. So why don’t we all get over this little misunderstanding and hit that gay strip club down the block. Apparently, they have a special on body shots with their dancers. I bet they’ll love you two.”

“So all three of you sleep together?” You rolled your eyes when you nodded in answer to the question for what felt like the tenth time, glad that no one was talking about castrating your future husband at least. “Is… are you guys marrying Ari too?”

“No! Oh my god.” You groaned and gave Jake a look when he kept rubbing your shoulders, he felt absurdly guilty about blabbing and you’d had to spend a good five minutes listening to him apologize. “Ransom and I are in love, and we love Ari, but as our absolute best friend who we also sleep with… a lot. Can we just go enjoy the strippers, please? And thanks so much for helping me explain things, Anne.”

“This is so not on me, you could’ve been up front about your little throuple situation.” Your maid of honor just laughed when you snarled at her. “Yeah yeah, you don’t want to define it, whatever. I’ll buy you a lap dance.”

“Fine, you’re all buying me lap dances!” They finally seemed to be able to move past their initial shock, letting out some light cheers when you stopped in front of the club and all started to climb out until they were eventually giggling when they thought about doing more shots. “I wanna be covered in body glitter and smell like Viva La Juicy by the time we leave. Can I have my phone now, blondie? Want to actually check on the boy toy.”

“Yeah.” Poor Jake had been beet red for the past five minutes, only getting even redder when you kissed his cheek and gave his shoulder a squeeze when he handed your phone back to you. “I’m really sorry, again.”

“Jake, I can’t stay mad at you, so please stop apologizing.” You wound your arm through his and leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling when he pressed his cheek against your forehead and let out a deep breath as he handed you your phone. “You’re my bestie blondie, people would’ve found out anyway, though I will admit it would have been nice if it hadn’t been a surprise. Now, go find me all the pretty twunk strippers, okay?”

He gave you a shy smile before walking away to find you a dancer, still blushing all cute and being his adorable self in a way that was sure to endear him to everyone. You just shook your head fondly as you pulled up your texts, chuckling to yourself and leaning against the bar while you texted Ransom that he did not have to worry about your bridal party castrating him, and that he should enjoy getting turned inside out by his boyfriend and you loved him more than anything.

The sheer amount of alcohol Ransom managed to consume at the marathon of strip clubs had helped him calm down, and being able to just be open now about who he was and what he wanted. Plus, Ari. Ari was always there and the feeling of his hands on Ransom’s body and the occasional brush of his lips against his cheek had pulled any residual stress right out of him, and also gotten him stupidly turned on. The man was a menace. Which was why the two of them had stayed in the bar of Ari’s hotel after the rest of the frat boys went back to their rooms, Ransom leaning on Ari’s shoulder and playing with his hair while he begged him to do all sorts of nasty things to him.

“Baby, you’re so worked up, goddamn.” Ari gave him a sly grin when Ransom whined in his ear, unable to fight the urge he always had to be a giant tease. “Not even sure you could really handle me doing everything you want right now, might make you black out before we have any real fun.”

“Please? Just wanna feel your mouth on my pussy.” Ransom was feeling so warm and buzzed after all the champagne and whiskey he’d consumed through the whole night, nuzzling into Ari’s neck and giggling when he almost spat out his scotch.

“Your what?!” The man hissed low enough that Ransom could barely hear him over the noise of the hotel bar, moaning when the older man gripped the back of his neck and forced his gaze to his as he chewed on his lip. “Your girl know you talk like this, boy?”

Ransom’s knees almost buckled at the low growl of ‘boy’ against his lips, grabbing the front of Ari’s shirt to keep himself upright and whining as his cock throbbed in his soft silk panties.

“You mean Daddy?” Ransom purred when Ari’s pupils somehow blew even wider, only a thin ring of ice around deep black pools he could lose himself in while the bearded man grabbed his ass and pulled him closer. “Daddy loves when I talk about my little pussy. She tells me how pretty it is and how sweet it tastes when it’s all wet and crying for cock. Don’t you wanna taste, sir?”

“Christ, come on.” Ari dragged Ransom after him towards the elevator with a yelp as he basically manhandled the younger man, shoving him inside when the doors opened and pressed the front of his body against his as Ransom panted desperately. “Gimme your phone, gonna check in with your… fuck… your daddy and make sure we’re not stepping over some kind of line.”

Ransom stamped his foot and pouted when Ari started dialing your number, trying to kiss him and whining when the larger man shoved him off and forced him to be still with a hand on his throat.

“Gorgeous?” Ari ignored the way Ransom was trying to grind his hips into him as he leaned him against the wall while the lift headed to the penthouse, frowning at the man while he waited for you to head somewhere quiet. “Your boy’s been drinking a little bit and running that mouth of his. Wanted to check in. Yeah? One second.”

“Puppy?” Ransom purred when Ari put his phone on speaker and the sound of your voice washed over him, making him feel all warm and syrupy as Ari just gave him a curious look. “Baby, you feeling all sweet?”

“Yeah Daddy.” Ransom sighed as he sank into the wall, already feeling his cock starting to leak as he thought about how worked up you probably were after whatever you’d been doing tonight. “Miss you, just wanted sir to give me his fat cock to tide me over a little.”

“That right, pup?” Your voice was low and mixed perfectly with Ari’s deep growl at being called sir, making Ransom’s eyes roll back in his head and his tongue feel like it was too thick for his mouth all of a sudden. “Want him to feed your hungry little pussy?”

“Oh, please.” Ransom could hardly breathe when Ari’s whole body pressed against his, feeling the heavy weight of his dick grinding against his hip as he clutched desperately at his waist. “Need it.”

“You’re lucky Daddy doesn’t mind sharing that pretty little cunt, sweet boy. And that I love spoiling my puppy.” You could tell Ransom was gone from the desperate mewl you heard over the phone, grinning to yourself as you started addressing your ex who sounded like he was heading towards his own kind of lost with the heady growl he let out. “Ari?”

“Yeah?” Ari hummed as he ran his nose over Ransom’s, cupping the man’s jaw softly as they exchanged breath while he dipped his tongue between his parted lips.

“Wreck him.” You chuckled when you heard a feral snarl before the sounds of messy kissing traveled over the phone, squirming a little when you pictured the scene that must be unfolding as Ari prepared to devour your sweet boy. “And make sure you take video!”

“Mmhm.” Ari’s grumbled reply was all he could get out before he was hanging up the phone and burying a hand in Ransom’s hair, sliding the other down his body until he could grab his ass and jiggle it before giving it a good smack.

Ransom was a mewling, keening mess by the time the elevator doors opened to the penthouse, panting desperately and flushed and having difficulty keeping his feet when Ari started shoving him back towards the bedroom. The man had been right, he felt like he was going to explode just from the rough kisses and greedy touches, he was probably going to go into a coma once they got to the good stuff.

“You want me to eat that pretty little pussy, boy?” Ransom yelped when Ari threw him onto the bed after stripping him out of his clothes in a rush while he pulled out his phone to start filming, growling at the sight of the younger man in nothing but his feminine little wine red thong. “Show it to me.”

Ransom whimpered as he turned slowly onto his stomach while Ari watched, making a show of arching his back while he drew his knees up to his chest until he was basically presenting for the older man. He bit his lip and peeked over his shoulder when he heard Ari let out an appreciative groan at the sight of him sliding the thin strip of fabric to the side while he spread his cheeks, giggling when he strode forward and grabbed his hip harshly with his free hand.

“Christ, look at that.” Ari purred when Ransom moaned at the feel of him spitting right on his twitching skin, his pretty hole winking for the camera while he keened when Ari slapped his ass hard. “No wonder your Daddy’s so happy all the damn time, you fucking spoil her with this shit, don’t you?” Ari let out a grunt when Ransom’s only response was a thin mewl, setting the camera on the end table so it had a good view of that sweet ass as he kneeled behind Ransom. “Let’s give her a good show, yeah?”

He didn’t have any chance to prepare before Ari was burying his face between his cheeks, the older man growling against his skin as he dragged his tongue all over his fluttering hole before sucking on it lewdly. The scrape of his teeth over his soft skin had Ransom’s eyes falling closed, his back arching more as he ground his ass back against Ari’s face and let out soft needy sounds.

Ari loved how fucking desperate Ran got when he was drunk, could truly understand why you called him puppy when he was whining and wiggling and begging him to keep going. Ransom stretched his arms above his head and keened when Ari leaned back and spat on him again, rubbing his cheek against the comforter when he nipped at his clenching hole before pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his ass.

When he ducked lower to suck on his balls, Ransom knew he was going to explode, his breath coming in shallow pants as his cock twitched where it was pinned against his abs by the band of his panties. Then he shoved a finger from each hand inside him and yanked him open so he could spit inside him and Ransom could feel tears leaking down his cheeks, his precum running down his abs like a faucet when Ari pushed his tongue inside him and started fucking him with it.

Ransom whined obscenely when he finally came, his toes curling as Ari’s tongue kept punching into his fluttering hole while the older man groaned appreciatively. He could feel his cum soaking the front of his panties and abs as his cock twitched slowly, another shiver traveling up his spine when the older man gave his balls a harsh squeeze before he rose up on his knees.

“That’s it honey, such a good fucking boy.” Ari grabbed a cheek in each hand and spread Ransom wide, purring at the sight of his pretty hole twitching and winking at him while he just panted into the mattress. “Look at that pretty little pussy, so fucking wet and needy, making a mess all over this bed. Think I should make you squirt, boy?”

“Oh god, please.” Ransom’s eyes rolled back in head when he felt Ari’s thick cock slap against the curve of his ass, keening when he hooked his thumb into his ass and pulled. “Fuck me, sir, fill my tight little pussy up til it’s leaking. Wanna feel you for the rest of the weekend.”

“Yeah, you want it bad?” Ari grabbed Ransom by his throat and yanked him up until his chest was pressed to his back, biting his ear harshly until the younger man started grinding desperately against him. “Want me to fuck this sweet little cunt raw until she’s gaping and ruined? Let’s hope we don’t piss your daddy off, she’d kick both our asses.”

That was all the warning Ransom had before Ari shoved his hips forward and impaled him on his cock, all the breath getting pushed out of his lungs as every muscle in his core spasmed at the sudden intrusion. Ari shoved his fingers in his mouth and groaned in his ear while he started driving into him, nuzzling at his cheek as he set a vicious pace and his other hand dug into his waist.

It was taking all his focus not to black out, he felt like he was getting ripped in half in the best way. Every thrust had Ari’s dick dragging over his swollen prostate, Ransom letting out small yelps each time his hips slapped against his ass while he drooled all over his chin and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Ransom squealed when Ari pulled out of him in a rush and flipped him over, grabbing his knees and holding himself open as the larger man lined himself up again. He groaned when Ari slammed back into him, arching his back to meet each punch of his hips and whining when his cock started leaking all over his abs.

“God, you’re already a fucking mess, honey.” Ari leaned over him and cupped his cheek gently, a sharp contrast to the way his hips were definitely going to be leaving bruises on his ass. “You gonna make an even bigger one? Gonna squirt all over yourself while I fill this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes sir.” Ransom gasped when Ari ground into his ass, humming when he shoved his fingers into his open mouth and swirling his tongue around them. “Please, fill my pussy.”

Ari grinned down at Ransom as he kept sucking on his fingers, cooing when he yelped at Ari grabbing his cock through his panties. The harsh contact was all he needed to come with a sharp cry, his whole body spasming wildly as he came so hard it almost hit him in the face. He kept shivering when Ari curled over him and sank his teeth into his jaw, tears leaking down his cheeks as warmth spread from his core while Ari pumped his cum into him.

“Mmm, such a messy boy.” Ari gave him a soft kiss before straightening up, biting his lip and purring when he got a look at his cum dribbling out of Ransom’s swollen and abused hole. Ransom just hummed as he sank further into the mattress, running his hands lazily over his cum covered torso while Ari grabbed the phone. “C’mon honey, show your Daddy how pretty you look then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Ransom managed to arch his back all pretty while Ari took his picture and sent it to you, all happy and fuzzy as he floated in the warmth of post-orgasmic bliss. He was vaguely aware of Ari relaying that you said you wanted to lick your pretty puppy clean before he let his eyes fall closed. Damn, he felt so fucking good. The only thing that could have made it better was if you were actually there with them. Maybe he could convince you to convince Ari to come on the honeymoon so he could get it from both ends.

#natalie writes #no love like your love au #the quadrouple #ransom drysdale #ari levinson #jake jensen #ransom drysdale smut #ari levinson smut #ransom drysdale x ari levinson #ransom drysdale x ari levinson x female reader #female!reader #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfiction #eighteen plus

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stellarfics · 3 months ago

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𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 [𝐜𝐡𝐩. 1]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark!ransom drysdale x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, rape/non-con, drugging/date-raping, somnophilia, dom/sub undertones, degrading, oral sex (male receiving), virginity kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, choking, size difference, heavy misogyny, heavy angst, extreme physical violence (mentions of blood), extremely dark themes, 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you let your friends drag you out for a night, which turns into a living nightmare because of one person; Ransom Drysdale.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, it’s almost as if a stranger is gazing back at you. You look—different, good. You’re living and out of body experience, wearing the unusual skimpy outfit you’ve got on; a silk red dress hugging at your curves, makeup done to perfection, hair pinned up in a soft, angelic, loose bun.

You slowly drag your tongue along your bottom lip, feeling the buttery, slick texture of the red gloss laying across your lip, the taste of the plain, sticky substance odd on your tastebuds. Your tiny dorm echoes with a sharp rap against the rattling wood door, a signal that Daisy is waiting outside.

You sigh and give yourself one last glance as you grab your clutch, stopping at the door, eyeing your ratted-down coat, the left sleeve practically falling off at the shoulder, the seams frayed to no revival. You open your door and see the redhead beaming at you.

“Oh my god! You look amazing! Oh, I knew red would be your color.”

You blush at the reminder of the embarrassing conversation the pair of you had in a bustling, expensive store at the Boulevard Mall the week before. You swear you almost died when you saw the price tag.

“Ah, forget about it, I’ll put it on Daddy’s credit card. He won’t mind.” Daisy would say, twirling her hair around, without a care in the world.

To say she’d been born spoon-fed off a silver platter would be an understatement. Her parents were among the most wealthy in the country, god, maybe even the world.

They rubbed elbows with the rich, neck high in gold coins. You didn’t need her to tell you about her wealth, her Rolls Royce spoke for her, a shimmering silver-plated car her father had bought her at the beginning of the semester. You guess her Audi wasn’t cutting it.

You are practically tugged down to the elevator, all the way to her car. She opens the door and shoves you in, squealing in delight as she floors it to the club.

You weren’t raised in a mansion on Beacon Hill, hell you weren’t even the occasional litter on the sidewalks. You were a quiet, city girl, grinding your elbows in soap, helping your mother clean houses since you were five.

The whole nine yards were already planned out in your head since you were 10. You’d focus on your studies, push your way to the top, building up from scraps, from scratch.

But life isn’t like a dream. It never is.

The pair of you pull up to the club, the valet taking the keys from Daisy’s manicured hand. She links elbows with you, laughing like she’s already drunk, babbling about the off-fielder who’d won Crimson their last game. How, in her words, fucking massive his cock was. Swearing she almost died giving him head last week after the game.

The two of you push through the sweaty cluster of bodies and up to the bar. You hold Daisy up as she drunkenly orders a plate of shots. You sigh and drag your group to a table in the back corner.

They down the entire plate, leaving you a single shot. Your girls hook each other into their elbows and swing their hips into the crowd. You sigh and watch as the night unfolds. Two hours pass by in a flash and your single shot is slowly collecting water droplets over its glass in front of you.

You check your phone, the screen blinding you as it reads 1:28 am. You sigh and stand up, pushing your way through the swaying crowd. You make your way to Daisy, who’s practically going at it with some guy.

You clear your throat and groan before you tap her on the shoulder. She swats your hand away before you try again. She turns around, heat in her eyes.

“What the fuck—oh, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” She asks, pushing the guy away from her. He grabs at her hips and tries to reel her back to him.

She shoves him away and grabs your wrist, pulling you to the back of the club, and into the bustling bathroom. The door swings open and it’s literal hell; you’re smacked in the face with the greatest cloud of weed mixed with vape smoke you’d ever imagined.

You cough and turn to the counter, girls and doing lines, snorting them through a wrinkled five-dollar bill. You stare for too long, if the way they turn to you with disgusted eyes says anything.

Daisy takes you into a stall, and pats your face with some powder, and fixes your lipstick.

“Maybe, I should go home…” You mumble as Daisy wipes excess lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“What? No. We just got here.”

“Daisy, this isn’t my thing.” You grimace and she sighs.

“Hey, the night isn’t totally ruined. You could still end up waking in someone’s bed.” She says in a sing-song voice.

“I hope it’s only my own.” You groan, rubbing at your forehead. You give Daisy the saddest, tired eyes you can muster and she sighs.

“Alright, we can go.” She says, nodding.

You shake your head. “Stay, you’ve got your floor partner out there waiting for you. I can make it home. I promise I’ll be okay.”

She nods and grabs your hand, dragging you out of the bathroom. “Be safe, this side of the city isn’t safe to be walking. I can set you up with an Uber.”

“I’m okay. I promise, Daisy. I’ll see you in the morning.” You take her into a tight hug and she pats your hair down.

“I’m serious. Be safe.”

“Always.” You smile.

You sigh and walk out of the club, the Halloween chill has you shaking in your heels, wishing you’d brought your coat. You pull your phone out of your clutch and try the power button, only to find it dead. You think about going back into the club, groaning as you imagine pestering Daisy for a ride home.

Damn.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, spotting, from your peripheral vision, a group of men kicking around bottles at the end of the street. Conspiring against your prayers, whatever god lives above reels them towards you. They drunkenly try to sweet-talk you, reaching a hand out to grab the end of your dress.

Your heart thuds against your chest and your body heats up, anxiety rattling in your bones. Your hands shake against your thighs and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

It’s all to no avail.

“Are you all alone, honey?” One asks, most likely the ring leaders.

“No, a friend’s inside. She’s ordering us a cab.” You turn away from them, looking toward the club. A few frat boys come out, drunkenly laughing at themselves, and look you up and down.

You’re a slab of meat, a fresh sirloin steak, thrown in the middle of a street filled with strays, foaming at the mouth, claws digging into the gravel beneath you.

You find yourself slowly cornered into the street, before falling back on your palms. You find yourself being surrounded by both groups of men. The screech of tires being locked by breaks echoes through the night air, as you’re blinded by headlights. You turn your head to find yourself a foot away from the bumper of a car.

You swallow the thick lump in the bottom of your throat and move from the car.

The driver steps out, a silhouette, really—tall and broad, shoulders square, shoes shining as he stalks towards the front of the car. You drag your eyes up his body, catching the way his arms swell under the unearthly soft-looking material of a white, cable knit sweater, perfectly hidden by the overcoat he’s sporting.

You turn to the group of men, tails between their legs as they look at one another and scramble away. You’re left alone with the silhouette, he speaks to you, voice drowned by the whizzing cars and natural night noise.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice gruff and tired as he stalks closer to you.

You blink rapidly and quickly nod your head. You scramble onto your palms and shakily stand up. You move back a little as he simply stares at you.

“What were you doing out here alone?”

“I just—” You fix your dress, crossing your arms over yourself. “I was going home. This isn’t really my crowd.”

Ransom looks you up and down, and turns to the bar.

“Who took you there? It’s a scrub-hole.” He grunts, standing a little straighter.

“My…friend.”

“Some friend. Especially if she left you out here on your own.” He steps closer to you, staggering a little as the street lights finally shine upon him. The light scent of alcohol rolls with his words into the night air.

The yellow flickering lights illuminate him in a golden halo. It accentuates his broadness even more, creating the perfect shadows over his arms and chest; it paints him almost herculean.

Your eyes widen as he tilts his head a little, looking at your palm. You raise your hand up and look at the red filling the lines of your palm. You look at the ground and wipe off the blood and pavement residue off your hand.

“I’m Ransom, do you know your name?” He asks, looking at you, trying to see if you’re okay.

You just keep staring at him and he chuckles.

“Why don’t I take you home? Make sure you’re safe for the night?” He asks.

You look up at him, noticing just how much closer he’s gotten to you, and blink up at him from beneath your lashes. You feel your chest tightening as anxiety fills your veins.

“O-Okay.” You nod, taking Ransom’s offered hand and letting him lead you to his car. The hand on the small of your back burns through your dress. You feel his palm against your skin even when he lifts it, closing the door for you once you're settled.

He rounds the car, sitting in the driver's seat as he starts the car again. The engine revs to life as he slowly pulls forward, turning over to look at you. You simply stare at your heels and blink; the scenario slowly creeping up on you.

You turn to Ransom and look back out to the street. You watch as the car whizzes through the empty streets. Your eyes trail with street lights and dimmed buildings.

The car speeds into the merging lane of the highway—which goes to the opposite side of the city. You sit up a little, looking out towards the empty interstate.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to say I-I live at the dorms, the ones by the—”

“We’re going to my house.” He says, not even offering you a glance.

The prickling heat of anxiety bites at the back of your neck. You try to keep your composure as you look around at the slowly growing street.

He continues on the freeway, down till it becomes a one-lane road. It leads out onto a snow-covered street, which is lined with bare trees that break into a deep meadow.

The snow is illuminated a bright white as you grow closer to the house. The car's light shines upon a mansion—a literal mansion.

He circles into the driveway, parks the car, and steps out. He goes up to the door and unlocks it, stepping in. He leaves it open for you, not turning back to see if you walk in.

You swallow down your awe as you take a shaky step out of the car. You hear the click of your heels against the polished, marble steps of the house. Which looks like something out of a magazine, a Wright design come to life.

The windows go from roof to floor, illuminating the house with cool moonlight. The glass exterior is shimmering.

You gently push open the door and step inside, the warmth hitting you too quickly, burning your skin in contrast to the cold outside.

You take a deep breath and look around the foyer. It leads into the grand living room. A stone wall covers the foyer of the house. A large L-shaped couch covered in a disheveled blanket calls home there. A stunning fireplace has been left burning, and a small cartridge of graham crackers and marshmallows is left beside it.

It’s beautiful, breathtaking.

Ransom comes back, two glasses of scotch in his hands.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t really drink...” You say, waving a small hand in front of you.

“Now, that’s no way to treat someone who’s accommodating for you. Drink it.” He practically shoves the drink into your hands.

You look down at the glass and up at him.

“Drink it.”

You shiver under Ransom’s gaze and hesitantly take a sip. He nods and takes one from his own. He grabs your wrist and leads you back to the couch.

Sitting first and pulling you into his lap. You stiffen as you land over his thighs. He lays a hand between your own, close to your knee; drawing circles into your skin.

You aren’t sure what to do, frozen, stoic as you attempt to wrangle a thought. He seemingly reads your mind, humming softly, and brings a hand up to your hair.

He brushes it over your shoulder, playing with the ends. He looks at you with dark eyes and then turns to your cup.

“Drink.”

As if in a trance, you take the glass to your lips, slugging back a few drops. You hold it in your mouth, and let it burn your tongue before it slides down your throat and settles into your stomach.

He shakes his head and holds the glass for you.

“Such a silly little girl, take a little more.” He hums, voice laced with malice.

He takes your glass, tips it against your lips, and gently tips it back a little more. You groan and take the rest of the drink. You hold it in your mouth and whimper, squirming around.

“Swallow.”

You comply and take the burning liquid back; immediately coughing once you can get a deep breath of air.

He shushes you and pats your back a little, condescendingly cooing you. You cough and heave, attempting to stand up.

“No, no, hey, shh. It’s okay.” Ransom hums. “Breathe through your nose.”

He coaxes you through taking a deep breath. You follow his direction and hiccup on a breath. He nods you along and rubs a hand over your back.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

You end your coughing fit with a whine. You twist around in Ransom’s lap, face scrunched up in disgust. He simply chuckles, takes your glass, and sets it on the side table.

He rubs at your back and hums softly, looking at you. You whine and shake like a leaf in his lap. Ransom sighs and shushes you, petting your hair back.

“It’s alright, shh. Quiet now. You’re alright.” He shushes you.

You sniffle a little and he shushes you, brushing your hair a little more. You whimper and Ransom grabs your head, fingers drifting down to your chin.

“It’s okay, sweet thing.” He cooes, voice oddly soft and you whimper. He pets your hair back, looking at you. He holds your chin and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip.

“You’re so obedient, honey.” He mumbles, grinning softly.

Your stomach floors as your eyes widen like saucers. You feel your diaphragm quivering at the force of your muscles clenching against each other.

You swallow thickly, eyes flicking between Ransom’s and he tilts his head a little, feigning innocence. He catches the way you soften in his arms.

He nods and you sigh, melting in his arms. You feel your body go slack and Ransom drapes you over his arm. You whimper softly, eyes drooping as Ransom hums softly.

It’s a song you’ve known as a child, one your mother used to sing—as she’d tuck you into bed. You feel Ransom’s hand card through your curls, scratching lightly at your scalp.

You slump a little in his arms and Ransom just looks down at you. He knows what he brought you here for. He knows it’s just a matter of time before the sedative he mixed into your drink kicks in.

Only a few minutes before you’re pliable in his arms. At his will to do whatever he wants with you.

Only a few minutes that he can wait for.

He runs his fingers up the inside of your calf, following along the soft lines of your muscle. You lift your head, eyes unfocused as Ransom looks at you, eyes dark.

You move your leg from his hand, trying to scoot away from him. He shushes you, taking your cheek into his hand. He brushes his thumb over your skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He smiles, toothy and wide.

You blink a few times and Ransom brings you closer. Looking at your lips. You feel your heart thud in your chest, hear the echo in your ears; feel its heat under your skin as your cheeks burn.

“You’re so pretty.” Ransom says again, thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You can’t seem to swallow fast enough, recoil your legs to your chest, and curl into yourself. Ransom shushes you, bringing you closer to his chest.

“It’s just kissing, honey.” He says, crushing his lips to your own. You whimper and push a hand against his chest. His hard, rock-like, unmoving chest.

He takes your wrist, pinning it to your side, and kisses you; you grimace and squirm in his hold. Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper softly.

“Stop.” You squeak, voice barely above a whisper.

Ransom breaks away, taking in a deep breath before nuzzling against your neck. Running his fingers along the soft skin of your calf.

“Just kissing, sweetheart.” He says, burrowing his face in your neck; sucking and biting at the soft skin there.

You keen softly and scrunch your shoulder, pushing at his chest again. The action is futile. You lay there in his arms, shocked to feel his lips oddly soft against your own.

You whine and he pulls back, blue eyes opening and drowning you. You tentatively wipe at your lips and his lips curl up with a chuckle.

He looks at you like that for a while, with dark, heavy eyes. He runs his hand against your thigh and you whimper, shifting away from him.

“No. You can’t hide from me.” He says, voice hard like nails and he grabs your jaw in a rather tight grip. It makes your blood freeze.

The daunting size difference between the two of you. Even now, in his lap, you barely reach his chest. The size of his palm is well over encasing your entire face. The thickness of his arms—which are circled around you in an extremely tight fashion—are such a distinct size to your waist.

The absolute strength they hold makes you shake; knowing Ransom could very well, literally throw you across the room at his command.

Your eyes widen as you look over the shadow of Ransom’s palm. You push at his forearm and he only tightens his hold, pressing your cheeks against your teeth.

You whimper and he pulls back. He gentles his touch again, thumbing your cheek and you swallow, eyes swimming with fear.

You take a few shaky breaths and shoot your gaze between Ransom’s eyes. He leans up again, stealing another kiss from you. He grabs you and rolls you over; laying over your body on the couch.

You bring your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back a bit. He nudges your legs apart, fitting himself between your thighs.

“Wait—stop.”

“We’re just kissing.” He says, going back to your neck, nipping at the skin there.

You shake your head, pushing at him to move. You bring your feet against his stomach, nudging him back.

“Stop. Please.” You whimper, voice squeaky and uneven. Your vision begins to blur and you’re unsure if it's from the tears welling in your eyes or not.

He simply groans in your ear, laying flat against you; rutting his long-forgotten, massive, hard-on against you. You whimper and stiffen under him.

“Stop, please. Stop.” You beg, on the verge of tears.

“Just kissing.” He says, lifting his head up.

He kneels back, looking down at you with dark eyes. You cower further back into the couch, closing your legs and bringing your arms over your chest, covering yourself as much as you can. Ransom brings a hand between your thighs, pushing them apart.

You reach down for his hand, vision melting and arms becoming weak as you grab his forearm. He shushes you, petting your hair back and cupping your cheek.

“That’s it. Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Such an obedient girl.” He cooes, eyes dark and grinning like a devil.

Your eyes slip closed and you make a soft little noise in the back of your throat.

Ransom nearly feels guilty, taking a sweet thing like you this way. He knows he’ll hurt you, definitely more than you can take, judging solely on how small you are. He practically cages you against his body on the couch.

He sighs and stands up, hauling you over his shoulder, and walks through the first floor, up the stairs. He makes his way through the upstairs to his bedroom, laying you across the bed. He sighs and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

It makes your dress ride up over your thighs. He smirks and runs a hand along the inside of your thigh, finding the soft, squishy, skin there perfect. He hums and pulls his hand back, he pushes your dress over your thighs up to your stomach.

He smirks at the soft, red silk panties you wear. The way they hug you perfectly, he’s almost saddened when he tears them in half. You whine and bring your legs closed, he admires the way that, even when you’re drugged, you keep your modesty.

He shushes you, petting a hand along your hair, and stands again. He pulls your dress down your chest, baring your tits to him.

He groans at the way they jiggle; their weight feeling perfect in his hands. He thumbs your nipples, the pink flesh growing into a hardened bud that he tugs and teases, loving the soft sounds the movement pulls from your throat.

He grunts and brings his hand between your legs. He runs his fingers against the soft, moist skin there, he feels his chest swell with the predatorial pride that he’s made you wet.

He lifts his hand, raking his fingers against your skin to the point goosebumps rise on your thighs. He teasingly brushes his thumb against your clit, grinning at the way you twitch; closing your legs, trapping his hand again.

He rubs his thumb against your nub a little harder, pressing your thigh into the mattress. It’s what wakes you up.

You blink drowsiness from your eyes, looking around the room and feeling something at your thighs—between your thighs. You whimper and rise up on your elbows, blood freezing as you see Ransom standing between your legs. Your lips part and Ransom’s on you like a flash.

He pins you under him, one hand covering your mouth, the other holding your head to his palm.

“Don’t scream.” He says, voice sinister.

You whine as tears well in your eyes.

“Gonna be a good girl? Gonna be quiet for me?” He whispers, staring at you with intent eyes.

You hiccup beneath his hand and you squeeze your eyes shut. He slowly pulls back his hand, running his fingers over your hair.

“Such an obedient girl. If you're good for me, I’ll make it sweet for you. Okay?” He cooes, voice lined with poison.

You simply take in the little breath your lungs hold and he smirks. He runs his hand down your neck, over your side, brushing along your tit to cup its weight in his hand. He brushes his thumb against your nipple and squirm under him; face burning red.

You bite back a whine, veins in your neck straining with fear. He tweaks your bud between his fingers, tugging at your nipple and you cry out; squeezing your eyes shut and turning away from him.

Your hands come up for a moment, going to push at his shoulders before staying stoic in the air. He grabs your wrists, coils them in a single hand, and pins them above your head on the mattress.

“Keep them there, if they move, I’ll hit you.”

He brings his hand back to your tit, slapping it and smirking at the way it moves against your ribs. You whimper, turning your head into your own arm and covering your face.

“Don’t hide from me.” He growls, grabbing your jaw and twisting your head back to him.

Your eyes are squeezed shut and you’re shaking under him; your body is so tense, that your muscles are beginning to ache. Pain radiates off your body, skin goes cold. He taps his fingers against your cheek and you whine, flinching under his hand.

“Look at me. Look at me.”

You slowly open your eyes, tears run down your cheeks and fill your ears as your bottom lip quivers. He runs his hand down your side again, and you twist away from him. He tightens the grip on your jaw and shakes his head.

“Don’t move.”

He lets go of your jaw, snaking down your body, laying against your stomach. He leans down, pressing a single kiss to the center of your chest, before he turns his head and takes a nipple into his mouth.

You cry out, stomach and chest caving into the bed. You turn away from him, shooting your arms down, pushing at his head and he leans up, turning your head back to him only for him to strike his palm against your cheek.

Fast, sharp, and hard.

The noise of skin hitting skin echoes throughout the second floor of the house. You can’t hide the soft squeak that escapes your lips and you bite your lip, hiccuping softly as you stare up at him. Your vision is muddled by your tears as you see him go back down—you feel his lips around your tit, tongue pressing against your nipple.

You twist against him and he simply lays a hand over your stomach, pinning you to the bed. He sucks and bites at the skin of your chest, grunting as he ruts himself against your thigh.

The tears that have been beads now become full rivers. You hiccup as you try to subtly move away from him. He frees your tit with a soft wet ‘pop’ and sits over your thighs.

He looks down at you, eyes dark as he grabs your wrists, grips tight, and seethes.

“I said not to move.”

You take a shaky breath and nod, chest rising and falling far too fast for your heart to handle.

He grabs for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the bed with a soft thud. Your jaw goes a little slack as you stare up at his body; the one carved like a porcelain Greek god.

Eyes dark like unruly oceans, nose swooping down to a perfect tip, lips plump and soft, like luscious pillows, jaw strong and hard. His arms which are practically logs, veins running under their skin beautifully, the muscles flex and shadow against the light of the lamp on his bedside table.

They lead down to his chest, burly and hard, covered with a light spruce of hair over his pecs. It leads down to his abs, which are hard and have veins crawling up his sides, melting into his skin, his v-line is impeccable as it gives just that much before leaving the rest for imagination.

He looks down at you, cups your cheek, brushing away the tears that stray, and growls at the way you flinch from his palm.

He tangles his hand into the back of your head and brings you up to steal a kiss from your lips. It’s owning and hard, possessive and hot.

He swipes his tongue against your bottom lip and you gasp, lips parting. He licks into your mouth, you can taste the bourbon he’s had earlier on his tongue.

It makes you whimper and turn away from him, breaking the kiss.

You hiccup, squeezing your eyes shut, and await the impending blow he’s bound to lay on your cheek. Only it doesn’t come.

The sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room and your eyes crack open. You shoot up and move away from Ransom.

“No, no, please. You can’t.” You beg, voice cracking as you cower over yourself.

He pushes you back, grabbing your arms and pinning them at your side. You kick and push at his chest, scratching over his arms and he hisses.

“Stop! Stop fighting me!” He hits you with a blow to your ribs and you scream out, twisting against him.

You cry and cry, curling onto your side, in a ball. You shake your head and push him away as he tries to grab you.

“Please! Please!” You beg.

Ransom moves off the bed, grabs your ankle, and pulls you to the edge. You thrash against him, legs and arms flailing as you try to escape his grasp.

He grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back with enough force to give you whiplash. You cry out and scream as he covers your mouth with a hand.

“Shut up. Shut up!” He strikes your cheek again.

You push your hands against his chest and hiccup. He leans in close and growls, eyes dark and you whimper.

“Please, you can do anything—anything but…that.” You hiccup, tears muddling your vision.

Ransom looks at you and takes in your words. He takes in the way you look, afraid and shaking; a scared little girl and he lets out a soft breath.

“You’re a virgin.”

Your blood freezes and you stare at him, a deer in headlights. You look between his eyes and your bottom lip quivers.

You stare at him as he brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing your skin with his thumb.

“If you’re good, I’ll be gentle.”

“No, please. Please. Please!”

You cry out, your heartbeat kicking up as he moves off the bed. He pulls his belt free and kicks off his slacks, along with his briefs, grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging you over to him.

He pins you under him, holding your head up and smacking his cock against your cheek. You whimper and whine, turning away from him.

“Open your mouth.” He groans.

He pushes his cock against your lips and you cry out, thrashing against him. He pushes at the hinges of your jaw and your mouth falls open.

He pushes himself between your lips and you scrape your teeth against his cock.

“Open your mouth. Open your mouth!” He hisses. “Don’t fucking bite me or I’ll beat you dead.”

You spit up over it, coughing and pushing at his thighs. He groans, hand encasing your neck as he forces himself down your throat.

He grins at the way you cough and choke over his cock, slapping at his thighs. He pushes deeper, bringing your head up till your nose brushes against his sac.

You feel lightheaded at the pressure, ears ringing and you push at his thighs. He pulls back, groaning. You cough and rise up to your elbows, gasping for breath.

“That’s it. God your throat is tight. Feel so good around me.” He coos. “Your lips are so pretty around my cock.”

You cough and hiccup, trying to crawl away from him. Ransom simply grabs you by the hair, dragging you back to him. He grabs his cock, pushes it against your lips and down your throat.

He groans at the deep, echoing swallow you make around his dick, spit bubbling up at the edges of your mouth.

Your hands are pushing at his thighs, nails digging into his skin and you whimper. He shushes you, thrusting in and out of your mouth.

“That’s it, breathe through your nose.” He coos, brushing your hair back.

He pulls back, leaving the tip between your lips and you cough.

“Shh, breathe.” Is all he says before he thrusts into your throat again. He pats your cheek and hums.

You whine and tears roll down your cheeks. You push your hands at his thighs and he finally pulls back all the way.

“Such a good little throat.” He pats your cheek.

Ransom moves from you and you scramble onto your knees, coughing. You crawl away from him and he sighs, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back to him.

“No. No! Please!” You scream, clawing at the sheets.

He climbs over you, pinning you to the bed, and grabs your cheek.

“Stop, stop it!” He shakes your head back and forth in a near-comical way.

He looks at you, taking in the fear in your eyes, and sighs.

“If you’re good for me, I’ll be good to you.” He says, eyes softening. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

You bring your hands to his chest and hiccup, gently pushing him back. He shushes you, petting your hair back, and kneels over your thighs.

You try to move from him, twisting and squirming under him, all to no avail. He splits your thighs apart, pushing one up to your chest, the other to the bed, and spits onto his fingers.

He drags them up against your slit, smirking at the way you’re growing wet. Just like he knew you’d be. You try and fail not to arch into his fingers, closing your legs against his palm.

He grins darkly and gently runs his middle finger through your wetness before gently pushing into you. You cry out, hands shooting down for his forearm. You pant and heave, your body burning a hot red as you try to push his hand out.

Through it all you’ve been whimpering a soft mantra of ‘no’ and ‘please stop’. He curls his finger upwards, stretching you out for him. You whimper and cry, clenching your teeth as he pushes more than you can take.

He adds another finger and you squeal, punching his arm. He lets you; he lets you mark up his arm with crescent moons from your nails, raking lines down his skin. He lets you.

You gasp and curl against him. He pulls his hand back, patting your thigh, and gently nudges you back. You cry out and kick against him and he lets you.

You whimper and hiccup, trying to close your legs as he kneels between them. He spits into his palm, taking himself in hand and giving himself a few jerks.

You hiccup, swiping hastily at the tears in your eyes, and look up at him. Your bottom lip quivers and your face heats up.

“Ransom, please. Please.” You beg.

He pays no mind to your please and pushes your legs further apart, to accommodate his size. He looms over you like a dark cloud and pushes his cock between your folds.

He groans as he grinds against you. You burn a beet red and turn away from him, pushing a hand at his chest. He brings his hands to your sides, fingers digging into the meat of your hips.

He drags the tip of his cock against you, slapping it against your cunt lewdly, before pushing into you.

You scream. It’s cracked and loud, hoarse, and followed by a broken sob as tears stream down your cheeks. He’s far too big for your abused cunt, you truly feel like he’s splitting you apart. Your ears ring and you scream more, on the verge of passing out.

Ransom fully sheathes himself in you, bottoming out, huffing softly. You thrash in his arms, hitting balled fists against his sides and chest. They hold no power to them, weak and brittle.

You overexert yourself, hiccuping and trying to swallow what little breath you’re given, and go back to sobbing. You cry and cry as Ransom simply stays seated in you.

His body is heavy against your stomach. His arms are brute and strong against your waist and his hands are warm against your skin.

He pulls back, looking down, and finds himself spotted with blood. He lifts you a little, to which you cry, and finds specs of blood against his silk, white sheets.

He fixes his hands over your hips and thrusts into you. You go limp under him, falling back into the bed with a hiccup. He thrusts into you with inhuman strength, railing you into the bed.

You stare up at him, vision muddled and spotty from your tears. You hiccup and close your eyes, turning away from him. He grabs your jaw and turns you back, tapping your cheek.

“Look at me. Look at me.” He says. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

You sob and open your eyes, looking up at him. He pants and groans above you, sweat coating his chest. He grunts and licks his thumb, bringing it between your thighs to rub at your clit.

You whimper, shaking under him. You twist away from him and he smirks, rubbing harder. You let out a little squeak before biting your bottom lip and covering your mouth with a palm.

“Oh, you like that?”

You turn away and he grabs your jaw.

“Don’t hide from me.” He growls and you instinctively bring your hands up to cover your head. It enrages him and he punches you in the ribs, the soft squeak you give makes him furious.

He throws a few more punches to your sides as you gasp. He loves seeing the way you try to curl inward after every blow.

He punches you in the stomach this time, hard and you gasp out. Pulling back as he goes to give you another. You’re gasping and panting, in absolute pain and he scoffs.

He pulls out and flips you onto your knees, pushing your back down before sliding back in you. You cough and spit up, arms too weak to hold you.

You gasp and hiccup into his sheets, coughing and wheezing as you try to breathe through your perforated lungs.

He grabs your hips and rams into you, relentless at the pain he’s causing you. He sees the blood pooling around your mouth and lifts your head. He grabs your hair and cranes your neck to him.

Blood covers your bottom lip and he wipes it away. He looks at you and pauses for a split second. You whimper and simply let your eyes close, going limp in his hold.

He drops your head back down, grabs a hold of the back of your neck, and thrusts into you. He grunts and wraps a hand around your throat as he ravages you into the bed.

You sob out, arching against him and he shushes you, kneeling down over your back. He presses himself against you, groaning into your ear.

You whimper at his groans and he smiles, bringing a hand between your legs to rub at your clit. You gasp and try to close your legs, twisting under him.

“Don’t do that.” He says, pushing them apart.

You whine, high and pitchy in your throat and he shushes you. He rubs gentle, teasing circles over your bud and you shiver under him.

You make a soft little noise and he grunts into your ear. You bite your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and he shakes his head, tapping your cheek.

“Don’t hide your noises from me.” He teases, “Let me hear you.”

“You know you love this.” He hisses, voice hot and seething against your ear.

You whimper, digging your head into his sheets, gasping against the silk fabric. He grabs your hips again, fucking you into the bed as you cry out.

He settles back on his knees and rams into you, grabbing your neck again. You hiccup and tense under Ransom, as he grinds down against you. It’s not long before he feels the heat biting at the tail of his spine.

It crawls up his back and he groans, laying flatter against you. He brings his arm around your neck, fitting your head into his elbow. You cough out and try to push his arm away.

“You feel so good around me. Such a tight little cunt.” He smirks at the way you whimper, shifting under him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts into your ear.

You tense under him, trying to push him off you. You kick your legs back and he grabs your jaw.

“Stop!”

“Please, don’t, you can’t—please!” You beg.

You sob, voice cracking as you heave against him. He tightens his arm around your neck, pinning you under him. You flail under him, trying to push him off as your face begins to turn almost purple-red. You gasp and gurgle as he cuts off your airway.

You smack your hand against his arm, nails digging into his skin. He hisses and slaps your face, bringing his arm even further around your neck. You struggle in his arms and he grunts, pushing down on your back.

You cough out, ears ringing and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You give out one last squeak before you go limp in his arms.

He sighs and lets your head drop from behind his arm. You drop on the side of his bed and he grunts, rising back up to his knees.

He grabs your hips, bringing you over his thighs, and ruts into you. He feels that heat begin to crawl up his spine again. It curls into his arms and neck, he groans; an animalistic, masculine sound—loud and gruff and he pushes all the way into you.

His cock twitches as he fills you with load after load of his cum. He groans, fingers digging into your hips as he finishes off.

Ransom sighs and shifts back a little, pulling out. He looks down to see blood spotted over his sheets in the mix of your fluids.

He looks up at you and grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. His eyes instantly are glued to the finger-shaped marks lying on your cheek.

They’re even more prominent with the black, smudged mascara lining them. Your makeup is smeared over your face with your tears creating white lines through it. Your cheeks are red and your eyes are puffed. There’s a small string of blood coating your upper lip, trailing down from your nose.

His eyes trail down the rest of your body, which is littered with more red spots. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, a deep groan coming out of your lips with each exhale.

He looks down at your ribs, the yellowing spots on your skin and he clenches his teeth as he cringes. The thing that truly catches his eye is the softball-sized bruise in the center of your stomach.

The one he’d given you earlier. The noise it’d pulled from you replays in his head. A broken, half-sobbed squeak.

He groans with disgust and grabs a blanket, throwing it over your body.

He stands from the bed, rubs at his eyes, and walks over to the ensuite. He starts up a shower, washes his body down, and gets out. He dries himself off and walks back into the room. He grabs a pair of briefs and steps into them.

He grabs a pair of sweats and looks over at you. He stares at you, the way your chest expands with a broken noise.

He cringes again, goes to the guest room across the hall, and sighs. He rolls onto the bed, flipping back to stare at the door.

The house is dark, the slight hum of the night echoes through his ears and he sighs. He burrows his head in his pillow and wills himself to sleep.

A/N: alright, wow, rewriting this took forever, like well over a few months. i tried so hard to perfect this chapter, and ended up with like 20 drafts of it lol, anyway to the ones who enjoyed, please reblog! (they're greatly appreciated in this household)

ANYWAY, thanks for all the support on AO3, love you all mwah x <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

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