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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 hours ago

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All I Want For Christmas is You

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

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

Summary: You're a good girl for Christmas.

Character: Ransom Drysdale

Day One of the December Daze Challenge. Prompt - i didn’t know the egg nog was spiked! + don’t look at them, why are you looking at them? look at me. they’re not going to help you. - source

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir," you answer.

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

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

🎁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck it,” he growls under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at me, baby,” he demands.

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

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

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

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

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #knives out #december daze #navy and roo's sleepover

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triglycercule · 3 months ago

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What do you think the types of drunk would the murder trio be? Im pretty sure ask dusttale already answered this question about dust but i have to ask the mtt expert

see now askdusttale DID answer the question. but they didn't ANSWER the question when asked what dust is like drunk. they just said that dust is the type to drink himself blackout drunk. so that mean i have total freedom on deciding what the mtt are like drunk hehehe (rubs hands together in a villanous way that you would imagine nightmare doing or something idk)

i already have an absolutely hilarious idea for horror and it might just because i'm on the guilt section of his character analysis but i could TOTALLY imagine him being an emotional drunk. like he CRIES. horror sans man known for being incredibly guarded and private with what he feels bawling his eye out. he gets mad he gets sad he does not get happy because horror doesn't have the right to be happy. he is too upset over the fact that he fucking DOOMED all of horrortale because of his selfishness and nothing can stop him from being incredibly vocal about that fact so much so that killer had to tape his mouth shut because he wouldn't stop crying so loud. and then he just silently cries until he passes out from exhaustion. the alcohol has an incredibly strong effect on him because i dont think he would drink regularly plus he definitely hasnt drinken anything in those 7 years of starvation. it hits like a fucking plane crashing into him. or like getting his eye taken out again. either one!

another funny idea i had for killer would be like the alcohol affecting him but he SWEARS that he's still sober. he is very confused when he starts stumbling because wtf he doesnt FEEL drunk??? why is he bumping into walls and tables HELP WHY DOES HE SOUND FUCKING STUPID???? the alcohol is definitely effecting him but he swears he swears he doesn't feel drunk. hes not drunk its just the damn body doing this stupid bullshit!!!! he's still very aware of what's going on and is basically the same as sober but just like. he's wiggly he's wobbly and oh shit he just fell head face first into a tv whoops. he'd also have a high tolerance because just because. he can drink without feeling like shit until he just blacks out mid conversation with someone because his body couldn't take the toll of all the beer or whatever. hilarious idea triglycercule thank you triglycercule i know

dust in the context that we already know that he drinks AND he can fight against the human while like partially drunk.... i feel it would be kinda like a giggly drunk situation. except dust doesn't laugh at anything that's funny he only laughs when someone gets hurt or something. SADISTIC giggly drunk. because i can already imagine a half drunk dust laughing his ass off after killing the human and its a beautiful sight to me.

anyways imagine how it goes when you pair this sadistic giggly drunk with another that wont stop going through the 5 stages of grief and another that keeps on fucking falling over for no reason in his eyes. dream blunt rotation but the blunt is a bottle of vodka. i can already imagine it in my head and its fucking HILARIOUS. horror going on about how he caused the deaths of others and manipulated and tricked papyrus while killer is just trying his best to keep his eyes open because for some reason they won't stop trying to close. he is surprisingly getting frustated. dust has long since lost his voice laughing at this and he's just silent wheezing at everything. also phantom papyrus is only making the laughter worse because he keeps on making rude comments towards horror and killer and only he can hear him and its guffaw inducing. mtt amazing friend group you dont get shit like this anywhere else

#killer's breakdancing and he swears this isnt on purpose guys #GUYS GUYS ITS NOT ME THE BODY IS DRUNK OKAY WHY CANT I STOP WHEN DID I LEARN HOW TO DO THIS #horror has SO much to be guilty over its not even funny. ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY #nobody talks about this but this man is GUILTSTRIFEN. he is literally filled with so much guilt its not even funny #dust and killer have the genocides they did. ok. sure. that's it????#ugh god i dont wanna ramble in tags again..... im just gonna end up saying it in the analysis anyways but ughhhhhhhhhhh #yk what fine i'll rapid fire. trying to keep people from killing themselves. watching his friends die.#knowing that other monsters are getting eaten. worrying papyrus. coming up with a plan he knows wont work and tries make it happen #because that idea of them deconstrucing the core would NOT have worked so he did that out of selfishness #forcing his community to eat humans. tricking papyrus into eating humans. going against all his morals #dare i need say more i swear AND ALL OF THESE ARE SEPERATE THINGS TOO!!!!!!#he single handedly DOOMED horrortale into disarray by destroying the core #the eye idea wouldve worked. it wouldve been the only way monsterkind thrived #and yet he destroyed the core but kept his eye safe. as if one last big fuck you #you can have my eye but you cant have the machine that needs it. good luck bitches #THERE ALREADY WAS FOOD IN SNOWDIN BEFORE HE TOLD THEM TO EAT HUMANS #THERE COULD'VE BEEN ANOTHER WAY TO RATION THE FOOD OR FIND S FOOD SOURCE #BUT HE JUST TOLD TJEM TO EST HUMANS OUT OF SPITE SO UNDYNE WOULDN'T GET THE SOULS #granted it was a solution that worked for the hunger problem BUT HORROR FUCKING HATES IT #HE HATES THE IDEA OF EATING HUMANS HE HATES THE IDEA OF KILLING KIDS #BUT HE STILL DOES IT HE GOES AGAINST ALL HIS MORALS UGHHHHH #horror sans. horror sans my king horror sans my glorious lord and savior #i cannot WAIT to drop that character analysis. it will change lives. and by lives i mean me #i will be a changed man once the horror analysis comes out #anyways WHO IS THIS ANON AGAIN. its a question i always wonder because wtf #you have a daily question for me. this is like a log in event. if i answer all the questions in a row for a week i get a SPECIAL question #but fr thank you so much for your questions i love answering them its so fun to wrack my mind and figure out a way to answer it. brain teas #every time i see the words mtt expert i laugh lowly like an evil villain but i try not let it get to my head #humility is a standard i aim to uphold. one of my character traits. triglycercule character analysis when #tricule asks

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