#ransom x oc

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[ambersweets134]

Some sketchbook entries, I'll possibly be doing a sketchbook tour soon!

[rosesandalfazemas]

Thanks for another year of your lovely support and friendship! See you around this 2025~

Do the template with this~

Love you all!

[thestarvingartistgabe]

Weird little homunculus that i created in a lab

[pariskylar]

my works

Assistant

Ransom Drysdale x black!oc Summary: Harlan get a new assistant that Ransom has taken a liking to. CW: enemies to friends to loves; forced proximity; slow burn; cheating; explicit language; smut; 18+ (minors DNI)

Colleagues

Bucky Barnes x black!oc Summary: two colleagues who can't seem to get along. CW: enemies to friends to loves; forced proximity; slow burn; explicit language; smut; 18+ (minors DNI)

[ronearoundblindly]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Ok, I sat on this for a month because I do not self-promote. It is not at all my nature.

Fools Rush In but specifically This All Day -- This is the first Reader-fic I ever wrote, and it still holds up as the comfort story I always intended it to be.

The Root of All Ransom -- Talk about writing a character you are not!!! I got into the mind of a complete douchebag and even I'm stunned at how well it turned out.

Smells Like Team Spirit -- Again, this one was a stretch for me. Never written anything like this before or since. I think @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 said it best in one comment when describing it as a 'polyamory whose dynamics I can understand.' I also highly doubt I'd have managed to write this without practicing a new mindset in Root of All Ransom.

The Stark Legacy -- Look, I get that Tumblr or anyone is not big on Original Characters in fanfic, but this story is my baby. It's the fic that brought me back to fic and writing in general which brings me such joy. I forget that sometimes. I am also super proud of the breadth and complexity of this story; I blended comic and MCU canon (up until 2019 just before Endgame came out) to create an alternate universe where Tony Stark's kid becomes an accidental villain.

A Forced, Fresh Start from Autumn Is Healing -- Yes, it's angsty and a little dark, but I loved exploring the realistic side of existing like Bucky/'Winter' (and the female version of 'Autumn'). I had to think of a way to describe breaking that programming and how frustrating it would be on a human trying to be as normal as possible after such treatment. I am proud of the way this one turned out.

[ashbrat488]

Speak Now - Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Ransom Drysdale x OFC Angst, fluff Word Count: 1,594

Written: July 6, 2023

Brittan grew up as best friends with Ransom Drysdale her whole life. She was smart, getting a scholarship to his private high school, one his parents afforded no problem. They never accepted Brittan when he started to date her in their junior year of high school. Tolerated would be a better choice of word; barely tolerated.

In college, plans were made... they would graduate, him majoring in creative writing and her in accounting, and then they would marry. But when he told his parents...

1 year ago, just before the start of their senior year in college...

"What do you mean we can't get married?" Brittan frowns, looking down at the ring on her finger; a ring Ransom had specially made just for her with a small emerald cut sapphire with two small diamonds on either side. It was perfect and she was in love with it.

Ransom flinches slightly at the sound of Brittan raising her voice to him, something she never did. He grabbed her hand, turning her attention back up to him with a groan, his heart clenched tightly in his chest, plummeting to the ground at the first sight of the tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. If I don't marry Camille, my parents will cut me off. And--"

"So?" She rips her hand away from him as he tries to remain calm, keeping his emotions at bay. "You're choosing your money over me?"

"No! I—"

"Yes!" She yells, bringing her hand up to her head, shaking it as she becomes angrier and angrier. "That's what you just said, Ransom!"

"If I don't break up with you and agree to marry Camille, they'll stop paying for college—"

"So what! We can—"

Ransom grabs her, hauling her against his chest, causing her to gasp as he placed his hand over her mouth. "Stop interrupting me, woman!" He takes a few deep breaths as she huffs into his hand, furrowing her brows at him. "If I don't graduate, my grandfather won't give me the publishing company."

She waits until he releases her, fixing her dress with a scoff. "Again, I say... so what? We can help you build your own."

"It's my right as a Thrombey! It's my familial right!"

"Who cares! Aren't I more important?"

"You are important..." Ransom's voice lowers as he watches her chin quiver, his heart shattering as he shatters hers. "But it's the principle of the matter."

"You mean your pride and your money are more important than love," she states as firmly as she can, holding back the tears that threaten to stream her cheeks. "Get out."

"Britt..."

"Get out!" She yells, pulling the ring off her finger to throw at his chest.

He barely catches it before she turns her back on him and he glances down at the small ring. "Britt..." he pleads one final time as he is met with only silence. Reluctantly, he turns to leave her apartment, standing at the open door. "I'll never love anyone else," he mumbles before shutting the door behind him.

His final statement is what finally breaks her, plopping onto the couch in a ball, letting the tears flow easily.

Night Before The Wedding...

Brittan sighs as she hears a knock on the door, forcing her to pause her movie. She knew what was happening this weekend and insisted on hiding in her apartment alone all weekend. She opens the door, surprised to find Ransom's best friend, James standing in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

She sighs but moves to the side to let him enter her apartment. "If you're here to tell me not to show up tomorrow, don't worry, I won't..."

"No," he laughs, shaking his head with his hands raised in a small sign of surrender. "Ransom doesn't know I'm here. And I came to ask you to do the opposite..."

"What?" She crosses her arms over her chest, wondering if this was some sort of joke or prank.

"Look, Britt, I like you. And Ransom loves you. You can't let him marry that monster. I don't care if she is better for him on paper according to their families. You and I both know he should be with you. Fight for him."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she takes her spot back on her couch, grabbing her glass of wine to down the rest. "I did. I asked him to choose me and that we would work it out. But no, he chose his money and her over me... so. He doesn't give a shit."

"He does..." James digs in his pocket, pulling out something before shoving it into her hand. "He still carries this with him wherever he goes. I only got it away from him because he's wasted already. He's miserable without you. You're both too stubborn to go to the other, so here I am. Come tomorrow, as my date. Stop the wedding..."

Brittan laughs, shaking her head as she looks down at her engagement ring. "You're not serious."

"I'm a thousand percent serious Britt. Please. Don't let him do this..." He watches her continue to stare at the ring. He leans over, kissing the top of her head, hovering for a moment. "They're getting married at 11."

She glances up at him as he smiles before turning to leave her alone in her apartment. She looked back down at the ring, turning it over in her hand...

Wedding day...

Ransom groans, his hand coming up to his chest as James enters the small room he was getting dressed. "Ready to go?"

Ransom takes a deep breath, swallowing the bile in his throat as he nodded. He proceeded to follow James before grabbing his arm. "Do you know what happened to Brittan's ring? I couldn't find it anywhere this morning."

"I have no idea, man. You were pretty out of it last night though. I'm sure you'll find it." He takes his place beside Ransom in the front of the church as he checks his watch: 11:10... She was late. Maybe she wasn't coming. He sighed, wondering if he should say something before the bridal march started and everyone stood.

Ransom tried to find a smile that matched the giant one on Camille's face as she entered the church, but the most he could muster was a grimace as he watched her approach him.

Brittan parked her car in the back of the church, sneaking in the back just as she watched Camille and Ransom. No one had noticed her yet as she backed up into the foyer. "You can do this," she mumbled to herself, smoothing out the line of her red bodycon dress. She nodded to herself, giving herself one more bump of encouragement as she looked down at the engagement ring on her finger.

She hears the words she was waiting for... "Speak now..."

She enters the church with a deep breath, this time letting the doors shut loudly behind her, causing everyone to turn to her. She sees the smile on James' face, giving her more confidence as she walks down the aisle, everyone's eyes burning through her. Her gaze catches on Ransom's as he smiles back at her, his first genuine smile in months.

"Britt..." he whispers as Camille whines beside him.

"Ransom! Make her leave!"

Brittan doesn't let Camille deter her, or Ransom's parents who were trying to move to put a barrier between them before James nudged them out of the way. 6 feet away from them, she stops. "I am not the kind of girl, who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion. But you are not the kind of boy, who should be marrying the wrong girl."

"Britt," he repeats, dropping Camille's hands as he takes a step toward her as Camille tries to stop him but he nudges her away and his eyes fall down to Brittan's engagement ring back on her finger where it belonged. He turned his head toward James as he smirked back at him. 

"Don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door..."

Ransom swallows hard the lump in his throat as he watches her gracefully turn to leave the church and his attention is pulled back to Camille, her whiney voice piercing his eardrums.

"Ransom!"

He shakes his head, looking back at her, his heart fluttering in his chest for the first time since he walked out of Brittan's door over a year before. "I'm sorry. You can keep the ring..." He runs to the back of the church where he got dressed, shoving his things into his bag before slipping out the side door before anyone could reach him.

Brittan leaned nervously against the passenger side door of her car. She glanced up at the sound of a door shutting to find Ransom running toward her, pulling her into his arms as he reached her. He kissed her hard, pouring in as much emotion he had been holding in for the last year as he could.

He cradled her cheeks when he pulled away, smiling down at her as tears welled her eyes. "I didn't say my vows. I'm so glad you were around. I'm sorry."

"We don't have to speak now. Just get in..." She climbs into the driver's seat as Ransom throws his bag into the back, jumping into the passenger seat as his mother and Camille with her family come out of the church charging for them. Brittan laughs, pulling out onto the road as Ransom grabs her hand... 

[demonangelsworld]

Entangled In Him

✨Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x OC! Orianna Wolfe

✨Summary: Orianna and Ransom had an unconventional start to their relationship. Despite this, they still stuck through, pushing past their rough beginnings, Ransom's family, and Orianna’s. They have done things they're not proud of, and their relationship is far from perfect, but she and Ransom know they’ll make it. They don’t know how far it will be tested when Ransom’s grandfather commits suicide the night of his birthday party. 

✨Warnings: Bullying, an attempt at manipulation, angst

✨W/C: 2.6k 

Masterlist Next >

Chapter One: How We Started

I take a breath looking up at the building in front of me, Ryder Springs Private Academy. I worked my ass off to ensure I could attend this school and not one of the public schools. It feels good to see the fruits of my labor. This school is my ticket to the start of a better life; I'll make every minute count.

I tighten my grip on my backpack, straighten the skirt of my uniform, and head inside. I hold back my awe at the grandiose entryway. There's a big, plush, red carpet lining the hallway and a staircase to one side. Everything looks expensive and fancy—definitely something I need to get used to.

Some students walk the halls, all wearing the same uniform as I am. Black flats with stockings, a deep blue skirt that goes to the knees, a white blouse, and a tie with the school's crest on it for the girls. Black dress shoes, deep blue pants, a white dress shirt, and the same tie for the boys.

“Hey!” I jump a little as a loud, high-pitched voice breaks me out of my gawking state. Turning, I see a girl my age with dark skin, dreads falling from her head, and a braces-filled smile on her face. “You're the new girl, right? My name is Rio. I'm part of the welcoming committee.” She cheerfully holds her hand out to me.

This girl exudes bubbly happiness. It's nearly overwhelming. How can someone be this happy in high school? 

“Yeah, that's me. My name is Orianna.” I shake her hand with a small smile of my own.

“Your name is so pretty! How did your parents think of that?” Rio gushes.

“My mom told me I'm named after my great-grandmother. Your name is pretty too. How did you get yours?” I hum, toying with my backpack strap.

“I was born in Rio; my parents aren't very creative.” Rio laughs. “So, since it's your first day, I was tasked with showing you around and getting you settled before your homeroom begins. Do you have your schedule?”

“Oh, yeah, I do.” I pull the schedule out of my pocket; I was so happy when I saw the skirt had pockets.

I hold it out to her, and she reads it for a moment. “Oh, awesome! We have 6th-period lunch together. Wanna eat with me then?”

“Sure! That sounds great!” I nod with a grin. I know she's just being nice since she's part of the welcoming committee, but maybe I could get to know her and become friends.

“Wonderful! I'll guide you to your locker, then show you around.” Rio hooks her elbow in mine, and we head off into the school.

During my tour, I got to know Rio more; she loves animals and science and hopes to go into conservation. The complete opposite of myself, who loves to write, read, and hopes to become an editor. Rio's parents are prominent advocates against deforestation. They are often in other countries working to replant the forests that have been taken down over the years—leaving her to live with her Grandmother most of the time here in Boston. We had to part ways when the bell rang; after that, it was like any other school day.

Any other school day if you add in stuck-up private school kids. When I got to homeroom, I chose a seat near the front. I hum as I pull out my notebooks and pens, ignoring all the desks with laptops on them surrounding me. I begin writing little notes when I feel someone jabbing at my shoulder. Turning around, I spot a girl with black hair and jade eyes slyly grinning at me, her eyes roaming over my uniform for a moment. 

“Yes?” I raise a brow when she doesn’t say anything after a moment. 

“Aren’t you the girl that got in on the Thrombey writing scholarship?” The girl asks, fiddling with one of those stupidly gaudy pens with a pom-pom on top. 

“Yeah, and?” I prompt again, wondering where this is going. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. Like she’s trying to find my insecurities to tear out, it seems like I met my first private school prep. 

“Must be embarrassing, having to come here with just the money from some rich old guy. How did you manage to land that? You sleep with him?” The girl grins conspicuously at me and leans closer. My jaw drops, and my face twists into that disgust. Other girls around her lean close, and I realize what’s happening.  

These absolute bitches. 

After taking a moment to compose myself, I give them my grin and lean forward. “You really wanna know?” I murmur as quietly as I can. They all eagerly nod, especially the main bitch that started this. 

“It’s called dedication and hard work. Something you assholes will never learn. Because you’re nothing but spoiled bitches that will get everything handed to you until the day you die. Now, I suggest you leave me alone before I show you what someone of ‘my standing’ is willing to do to protect myself.” I blow them all a kiss, and the girl’s expressions change to horror or hatred. 

The head bitch goes to bark something back, but I turn around and ignore her. Girls like that aren’t worth my time. Soon the teacher walks in and begins class on economics. Despite his presence, I still hear the girls whispering to get my attention. 

“Scholarship. Hey, Scholarship. Scholarship!” 

Those girls weren’t the only ones to cause me problems and call me that name throughout the day. It’s like they all somehow immediately knew who I am, my status, everything. I must be the only one here on scholarship. That has to be the reason. It was all so annoying, and I had to keep myself in check on more than one occasion. I don’t want to make any more enemies today. I don’t think I could handle any more drama. 

I let out a little sigh as I walked into the school's dining hall. Lunch tables scatter the area, most of them already packed. Thankfully I don't hear all the chatter thanks to my earbuds blaring a true crime podcast into my ears instead. I move to the lunch line, going through the motions of grabbing food. Today it's mac n cheese, fruit, and juice. Honestly, I was expecting something a little fancier from this place, but I'm not complaining. A good, hot meal without me having to cook? I'll take it.

I glance around before finally seeing Rio waving frantically, trying to catch my attention. I laugh at her dramatics and make my way over. I focus on my podcast as I walk, ‘...the body was found at the bottom of the steps of the man stalking her for days prior.’   

I get entrapped in the story, almost to the table, when someone suddenly backs up right in front of me. 

“Shit!” I gasp. I attempt to catch myself as my feet hit their ankles, but it's too late. 

My precious mac' n cheese goes right on the person's shirt. They shout something incoherent as I land flat on my face. My head spins a bit from the impact on the floor; carefully, I reach up to check if I broke the skin on my forehead. When I don't feel the blood stickiness, I sigh in relief, only to pause when the laughter begins. The flush of embarrassment immediately makes its way to my cheeks. It's just my luck that I made a fool of myself on the first day.

“Clumsy little bitch.” I hear the person I dumped my food on growl. I scowl at their words and manage to push myself up to my knees. I go to bark back my insult but stop short.

Holy shit, the guy is hot. He glares down at me with icy blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair pushed back on his head. His tie is undone, and a couple of his shirt buttons give the classic 'schools rebel' vibe. Lowering my eyes slightly, I cringe at the enormous yellow stain on his shirt from where my food landed.

He suddenly smirks at me; shit, how long have I been staring at him? “Hit your head too hard? Or are you just checking me out?”

I flush at his words but quickly glare, remembering what he called me. “You fucking wish. Why don't you watch where you're going next time?” I feel a hand on my arm and smile, seeing Rio helping me to my feet.

“I should be saying that to you, scholarship. You ruined my shirt; it probably costs more than whatever hole you live in.” The guy bites out with venom dripping in his tone.

I grunt hearing that little nickname. This guy isn't the first person to have called me that today. I'm tired of being looked down on for getting a little help. 

“Do I look like I give a fuck? No. I'm sure your ass can afford to get a new one.” I bare my teeth at him, showing him I won't back down or be ridiculed.

“Ransom, just leave her alone, okay? It wasn't even her fault. Your friend pushed you into her.” Rio murmurs, looking everywhere but him. Does this guy make her nervous? Yeah, he's bigger than the two of us, but he's not scary in the slightest, at least not to me. It takes a lot to scare me.

“My fault, huh? You're really brave to accuse me like that, loner freak.” Ransom shoots his glare over to Rio.

I step in front of Rio, blocking her from his view. “She's not accusing you. She's stating what she saw. Look, I'm sorry for ruining your precious shirt. Now can we move along and get back to lunch? I'm personally rather hungry, and we're losing precious minutes of our free time by arguing over something stupid.”

“Awe, you're hungry, scholarship? Are you so poor that you're not getting enough food at home? Poor thing.” Ransom cooes in a false, overly sweet tone. I roll my eyes, refusing to take his bait, and argue back at him. He chuckles when I say nothing, “Fine, I'll let you run off and finish your lunch, but this isn't over. I want compensation for my shirt.” He wiggles his fingers at me as he struts off with his laughing buddies, “see you later, Scholarship.” I stand there, glaring daggers into his back as Rio tries to pull me away from the scene. 

“Orianna, this isn't good. He's the school's trouble kid.” She murmurs when we get over to the table she was sitting at earlier.

“And? I'm not going to let his reputation scare me. He seems to be all bark and no bite.” I scoff. I've met his type a hundred times over. They all think they're big shit until someone pushes back.

“Ori, he's known for getting girls and guys alike to bend at his will. He knows how to manipulate and get his way. I've seen it happen...” Rio looks down with sadness clouding her eyes.

My concern immediately grows, “Rio, did he do something to you?”

Rio immediately shakes her head, “Not me, my ex-girlfriend. He liked her for a while, but she refused him in front of many people and then dated me. I don't know how Ransom did it, but he convinced her to break up with me and get with him. Then he broke up with her in front of the whole school during one of the assemblies. She was so humiliated she moved schools.”

“What a fucking horrible thing to do,” I shake my head a bit. People are horrible. Who would go through all that trouble just to make someone hurt? “Don't worry, I won't let him get to me. Believe me. I've dealt with some fucked up people in my time. I think I can handle a pretentious shitwad like him.”

Rio sends me a small smile, “I hope you're right, Orianna; you seem so nice. You don't deserve to be hurt by him.”

“Thanks, Rio.” I give her a soft smile, and she offers me half her tuna sandwich since I lost my lunch. I grin and happily eat with my new friend.

By the end of the day, I'm feeling the first day of school wear out. If today is just a glimpse of what the year will bring for me, I'm so screwed. Thankfully, I'm a junior, so I only have to deal with this hell for two years instead of four. Then it's off to the bliss of a college education with mature adults, not children like these assholes.

I shut my locker and head out of school, thinking about everything I would need to grab at the market for dinner. I fumble with my bike lock for a moment when I hear the voice from earlier that makes me want to grind my teeth. 

“Scholarship!” Ransom yells as he walks over, his friends all laughing a few feet away.

“Hell no, not today,” I mutter under my breath and quickly put in the combination. Quickly tossing on my helmet, I swing my leg over my bike, only for Ransom to grab the handlebar at the last moment.

“Where are you going? Didn't you hear me calling for you?” He frowns down at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Oh, no, I heard. I'm just choosing to ignore you, now hands-off.” I swat at Ransom's hands, and his frown morphs into a scowl.

“You might want to be a little nicer to me, scholarship. I did some digging and saw you got in here purely on the Harlan Thrombey young writers award.” Ransom's scowl turns into a sadistic smirk.

My stomach turns at the sight, but I push away my unease. “And? What about it?” I glance at my watch and wince, “look, can we hurry this up? I got places to be.”

“Well, here's the deal, scholarship.” Ransom lets go of my bike and steps away from me, confidence coming from every pore on him. “Harlan Thrombey is my grandfather.”

“Congratulations?” I stare at him, confused, as I ready myself to ride off again.

Ransom scoffs at me, “Do you know what that means? It means I could have him pull your funding if I wanted to. So, you have to do what I say and when I say it.”

I snicker under my breath, attempting to control the laughter bubbling inside me. Is this asshole serious? He's hilarious! The dam breaks, and I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach.

“What's so funny?! Don't you realize the mess you're in?!” Ransom demands, looking at me incredulously.

“What mess? I'm not scared. I earned that scholarship by proving my worth and hard work. If your grandpa is dumb enough to listen to you and pull my funding, so be it. I'll find somewhere else to go or work my ass off in the public school. I don't have to do shit for you!” I push off on my bike and start heading to the market.

“You still owe me compensation for my shirt!” Ransom yells at me as I ride off.

“MHM, SURE!” I flip him the bird and continue, not even bothering to listen to whatever intelligent come back he thinks off. The spoiled little rich boy really thought he had me cornered. I'm a lot smarter than that, though. A lot smarter than him too. 

Masterlist Next >

Taglist!

@patzammit

Join here!

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Ohhh I've just finished reading 'The Essex Serpent' book and im currently watching the show (absolutely not pointing out the differences between paper and screen😅 but for research (yes research includes tom and all his glory on repeat and rewinded😂😅😂))

I have something in mind, to do with Will but whether im posting it right away or in the far uncertain future is undetermined however, as its fresh in my mind, all i hope is to put it down on paper

[eccentricallygothic]

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

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

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

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

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

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

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

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

Of course, he wants you to say it.

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

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

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

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

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

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does that when he is horny. 

The realization makes your stomach twist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, hubby.” 

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

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

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

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

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

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

[ambersweets134]

I'm currently dying inside

[pariskylar]

The Assistant

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x black!OC Summary: Harlan get a new assistant that Ransom has taken a liking to. CW: enemies to friends to loves; forced proximity; slow burn; cheating; explicit language; smut; 18+ (minors DNI); THIS IS WRITTEN FOR AND CATERED TO BLACK WOMEN

Main Characters

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

[ashbrat488]

State Of Grace - Ransom Drysdale Fic - Complete

**Flashback**

Grace enters the Thrombey house on Saturday afternoon, hearing everyone buzzing around where she is quickly greeted by Fran, the housekeeper.

"Grace! Ransom is in the back with his other friends."

Grace nodded, "thanks Fran." She sighed as she made her way to the backyard to see Ransom standing with a few of his male friends. She took a deep breath before approaching them, seeing them all eyeing her as if she was diseased. She touched Ransom's arm, watching him pull it away immediately, "happy graduation Ransom."

Ransom huffed, "thanks. Whatever."

She looked at his friends who only snickered as she pulled him away from them, "Ransom."

"Grace. What are you doing here?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, "we're friends? At least we are when you're alone. I love you, Ransom. I'm going to New York for school, come with me. You need to get away from this place and away from these so-called friends of yours."

Ransom rolled his eyes, "just go, Grace. We're better off without each other."

Grace felt her eyes welling with tears as she tried not to give his friends the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She raised her voice, "that's not what you've said when we're alone." She watched his friends whisper to each other as Ransom pulled her further away from them, laughing.

He looked down at her, "what are you doing?"

She placed her hand on his cheek, "I know you love me too. Now or never, Ransom." She felt him lean into her hand before he pulled away, walking back to his friends and she heard them laughing.

Ransom laughed with his friends as he watched Grace walk back into the house to leave, feeling the pit in his stomach growing. She was right, he did love her. But he knew she was better off without him.

ONGOING

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20 - Final

Wattpad Link

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Batman/Bruce WaynexMagician!OC| Chapter List

Here is a list of the chapters of the Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader story in this blog.

Please note that chapters that are marked with the blue highlight are part of the main story and those without the highlights are the chapters that are mostly scenarios and fluffs with the other characters.

I will update this whenever there is a new chapter.

Season 1

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 1

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 2

The Three-Way Relationship

The British are Coming!

The Unexpected Guest: The Guardian of Wayne Manor

Children of the Bat

The Time We Got Caught Skinny Dipping

“I’ll Always Be Here for You, Kiddo. Always.”

Fear Toxin: The Memories That Haunts Us

"I Need a Raise."

Along Came Jason

Meeting the Justice League

Day Off & Double Dates

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 1/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 2/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 3/3)

Special Merchandise

A Quiet Night

The Billionaire's Wife

A Promise Across Time (Part1 / 3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 2/3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 3/3)

Moving In

Mother & Daughter

The Consultant: Morgan le Fey Case

Cats

In the Events of My Death: The Bruce Wayne Tapes

Dreams and Reality (Part 1/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 2/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 3/3)

Damian's Pets

Opening Up

Gotham Year One

PTA Rivals

Two-Face

Wedding: Without Masks (Part 1/2)

Wedding: The One that Gotham Remembers (Part 2/2)

Another Chance

Little One

Love of my Life

Blurred Photos

Babysitting

Valerie's First Birthday

Penny Too!

Family Sports Day

Trouble

The Crossroads

Wayne Family Holiday Traditions

Beyond

From Our First Case to Our Last

Season 2

Hiya Mom!

Its a Bat-Thing

In Another Life

[Maxie] Zeus

The Riddler's Mistake: The Wrong Kid for Ransom

Exes

Wrath of Wayne [Part 1/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 2/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 3/3]

Indiana Quinn! Harley Goes to the Temple of Doom

A Family Trip to Liverpool

The Madman's Dream

Superman Saves the Day

Teen Titans!

Happy Valentines Day, Batman

“I’m Sorry, Ma. I’m really, really sorry…”

Dracula [Part 1]

Dracula [Part 2]

Happy Birthday, Batman

Dracula [Part 3]

The Dark Side of Academia

Gotham at Night

Return of Hush

Please note that some chapters do not follow the chronological order due to time jumps that relate to the story, but are placed in this order as major parts of the story are in that certain timeline.

Gotham Year One

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 1

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 2

A Promise Across Time (Part 1/3)

Cats

The Time We Got Caught Skinny Dipping

The Three-Way Relationship

A Madman's Dream

The British are Coming!

The Unexpected Guest: The Guardian of Wayne Manor

Moving In

A Quiet Night

Meeting the Justice League

Exes

“I’ll Always Be Here for You, Kiddo. Always.”

[Maxie] Zeus

Happy Valentines Day, Batman

Fear Toxin: The Memories That Haunts Us

Wedding: Without Masks (Part 1/2)

Wedding: The One that Gotham Remembers (Part 2/2)

Along Came Jason

The Billionaire's Wife

In the Event of My Death: The Bruce Wayne Tapes

“I’m Sorry, Ma. I’m really, really sorry…”

Children of the Bat

Teen Titans!

"I Need a Raise."

The Dark Side of Academia

In Another Life

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 1/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 2/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 3/3)

The Consultant: Morgan le Fey Case

Indiana Quinn! Harley Goes to the Temple of Doom

Mother & Daughter

Superman Saves the Day

Opening Up

Day off & Double Dates

Special Merchandise

A Promise Across Time (Part 2/3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 3/3)

Hiya Mom!

Dreams and Reality (Part 1/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 2/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 3/3)

Damian's Pets

PTA Rivals

Two-Face

Another Chance

Little One

Love of My Life

Blurred Photos

Babysitting

Wrath of Wayne [Part 1/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 2/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 3/3]

Valerie's First Birthday

The Crossroads

Penny Too!

Family Sports Day

Trouble

Wayne Family Holiday Traditions

A Family Trip to Liverpool

Happy Birthday, Batman

Dracula [Part 1]

Dracula [Part 2]

Dracula [Part 3]

Return of Hush

The Riddler's Mistake: The Wrong Kid for Ransom

Beyond

Gotham at Night

Its a Bat-Thing

From Our First Case to Our Last

Dark Knights of Steel

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood [Part 1]

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood [Part 2]

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood [Part 3]

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood [Part 4]

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood [Part 5]

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood [Part 6]

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 1: Savior

18+ | 1.7k | Homelander X Female Reader | protective homelander, reader's back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse. My Own Writing Prompt: What if Homelander became your Daddy and was really good at it? This is my first attempt at writing for a 'Reader' character! I usually always write it as an OC, so this should be a fun challenge. There will be more, but I'm not sure how many yet - maybe 3 parts. I wanted to keep these side ideas shorter and easier to pick up and put down. Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

You’ve not had the best childhood. You were raised by an alcoholic, neglectful mother who cared more about getting laid by strange men that she met at the bar than you. This was paired with a father who would literally do anything but spend time with you, even when you flew fifteen hundred miles via airplane and stayed for the whole summer. Love, affection, attention, validation. These are all things that have been acutely missing from your life and so it should come as no surprise that you might be tempted towards the more hedonistic side of things.

After all, there is no better way to pretend that someone loves you, then when they’re fucking you.

Your bedroom has been a revolving door of men, much like your mothers had been when she was still alive. But, she’s left you alone in this world, long since dead from cirrhosis of the liver, and you’d really rather not have anything to do with your piece of shit father. With no siblings or family to call your own and nobody left to really give a shit, your life feels kind of empty. Fucking is the one thing that makes you feel alive, at least until it’s over and all of the feelings of guilt and shame come flooding back in.

That’s alright though. That’s what the beer is for. When too many voices start to nag you about your choice of lifestyle, you just drown it out. And no, you don’t think of yourself as an alcoholic like your mother. You are just self medicating, and find this over the counter prescription much more effective than the ones your psychiatrist had given you. You’d rather feel something than nothing after all. Maybe this makes you a hypocrite, but you really don’t care.

Perhaps it is this very state of inebriation that has led to your current situation though. You really should start taking accountability for the way your life has turned out and stop playing the victim. Sadly, there may not be enough time to make any serious life changes because things are looking pretty grim. A chance encounter with a good looking man named Mark that you’d met, ironically at the bar, has turned into a complete catastrophe, and even you with your insight and feisty spirit, especially when drunk, cannot see a way out of it.

Mark said he was parked just down the road, and there were so many lights and people walking down the main throughway that you really hadn’t considered you might even be in danger. That was until you’d both walked a ways down the alley, past the point of lights and still there was no car. Who the fuck drives a car in New York City you found yourself thinking, but by then it was too late. By then, Mark’s lackeys had jumped out from hiding, dragging you down an intersecting alley and against the wall of some abandoned building.

You are pressed painfully against the cold and dirty brick wall with two men holding you in place, one on either side of you. One heavier set man has a knife against your throat while the other laughs in a way that makes your skin crawl. Mark stands before you still looking like the handsome bait that he was and you can’t help but wonder what they might possibly want with you. You are too old at twenty eight to be thrown into some kind of grooming gang or human trafficking and you have nobody for them to extort funds from for a ransom.

Maybe they are just interested in raping and killing you and this is just more shitty luck that life has thrown your way. It is always so easy to play the victim, even when you are still partially responsible for how the cards fall in the wake of your bad decisions.

You try to jerk your arms free, thinking it better to be cut than to be raped by these scraps of human excrement. You had already intended to fuck Mark or you wouldn’t have gone home with him, but this show of depravity has most definitely changed your mind.

You feel the heat of dripping blood from your neck as the bigger guy with the knife actually nicks your skin. Mark already has his paws on you, a look of disgusting lewdness on his face as though he’s so pleased with himself for cornering you. His hand rounds your breast and the feeling of him touching you like this elicits the most gut wrenching scream from the very depths of your chest cavity.

Then the raw, searing pain erupts across your face. Always the consummate gentleman, Mark has struck you and he didn’t pull any punches. You can’t help but hear the rimshot play in your head and you wonder how it is that even as you’re about to die, your struck with the plaguing of your morose sense of humor. You supposed in the end, it was just a way to make light of how messed up things were. And right now, they were definitely about as bad as they had ever been.

As Mark once more closes in on you, the friend not holding the knife joining in at groping you as well, you attempt to scream again. Another throbbing fist hits you so hard in the cheekbone that it literally takes away all the fight you have. You’ve never been hit so hard before in your entire life and you feel a wave of defeat roll over you like the most hated white flag flapping in the wind.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to zone out the disgusting mitts clawing at you. For a moment you consider shoving your neck into the knife to avoid letting them take this any further. But, graciously, your thoughts of escape through suicide are averted when the ground shakes as though an asteroid had just been ejected from space and landed right beside you.

There is another flash of pain as the stout man with the knife slips and cuts you once more. Free from their grip for a moment in light of the confusion, you feel your neck and are relieved to find that the cut is shallow and not gushing blood. You slowly look up and find that all the men are turned away from you, looking at something incredulously.

Your eyes grow wide when you realize they are staring at the fucking Homelander. Your jaw drops in shock as he hurls forward, grabbing the neck of the man with the knife and popping it like a grape. Blood splatters everywhere as your blond savior’s eyes flare up with bright orange light, straight into Mark’s crotch creating a massive hole that you can actually see through. You almost laugh at the thought of his likely raging hard on getting evaporated to charred bits and nothingness. Serves him right you think as his body hits the pavement with a fleshy thud.

The last man attempts to flee and you follow the outline of his backside as he runs. Homelander’s eyes glow once more and you watch as the plasma hot lasers cut across the distance, starting at the assailant’s groin and carving all the way through his head, leaving him cleaved in two even pieces.

You barely have time to think about it before Homelander’s gaze returns to you, a look of concern in his eyes as he crowds you against the wall. “Fuck!” he shouts and you startle as he starts wiping the gore and blood away from your face, your neck. “Did I hit you?”

“N-no,” you manage to squeak out. “I think it’s the fat guy’s blood.” You say this with a little more humor than you probably should, not being able to resist the idea of insulting your attacker.

Homelander stops his fussing and regards you with eyes that are so much bluer in person than they appeared on television. He raises up one hand, finger pointed at you as though you’d just fooled him, in quite a clever way. The grin on his face almost makes you forget that you’d just had strangers threatening your life and your right to choose who you spread your legs for.

“You’re funny,” he finally said, looking you over, his expression growing more grave, almost irate. “Especially for someone who just narrowly avoided getting raped and thrown in the Hudson fucking Bay.”

You can’t help but wonder why he cares. You always thought he was just a pretend super hero for the cameras, for the mega corporation known as Vought to make big bucks. It all seemed staged and as far as you knew it was. Yet, here he was, America’s patriotic golden boy, making a very unscheduled save.

“What the fuck are you doing anyway!?” he asked cynically, interrupting your thoughts. “Do you have a death wish or something? You like the idea of serving yourself up to any guy who shows you a little bit of attention?”

His line of questioning was strangely personal, as though he knew more about you than he was letting on. Even though he had just come to your rescue, exactly when you had needed him most, you can’t help but feel a little indignant.

“It’s not like I wanted this,” you retort with a furl in your brow.

“You have to know you’re beautiful,” he sputters out, eyes darting around with discomfort at the topic, barely containing his frustration. “You deserve better than this.”

“Well, God has not seen fit to bestow me with anyone better yet. I’m still waiting,” she quipped back, but she could feel her shoulders getting weak and shaky as the shock of her encounter started to weigh on her.

“Fuck God,” Homelander barked back and his countenance relaxed significantly as his anger turned to worry at the sight of your trembling body. “You’re coming with me,” he stated more than asked.

Before you knew it, his arms were scooping you up, holding you securely against his chest as he shot into the night air. Despite the sound of rushing current in your ears and the tendrils of hair whipping at your cheeks, you felt safe and comfortable. You closed your eyes and waited for the ride to be over, but little did you know that it had just begun. Continue to Part 2

[bookmarks-are-for-quitters]

💕

Oxytocin

Title: Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Fandom: Knives Out AU

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC (Ivy Kensington)

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington. 

Warnings: age gap (Ivy is 38, Ransom is 19 in flashbacks), Mommy kink, Mommy Domme/baby boy, dry humping, orgasm denial, mention of virginity, aftercare, size kink, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Ransom Drysdale BINGO were: dry humping, mommy kink, orgasm denial, virginity, size kink. Submission for @the-slumberparty’s Eight Types of Love February 2024 Sleepover Challenge(Pragma – longstanding love). Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta, you saved me from myself!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

YouTube Music playlist is here.

Spotify playlist is here.

My Masterlist

From the moment he laid eyes on her, Ransom’s world stopped. The sound of her laughter, the glow of her chestnut skin, the way her deep brown irises held his focus; he couldn’t choose his favorite of her attributes. He watched as she commanded the attention of the room as she regaled her guests with tales of her various adventures traveling the globe.

He was only nineteen when he met her that New Year’s Eve night. Ivy Kensington. She was thirty-eight and newly divorced. The poor bastard that let her slip through his fingers must be insane, Ransom thought to himself. He loved how lively she was, as if divorce was exactly what she needed to feel alive.

He doesn’t know what possessed him that night to walk right up to her but, God help him, he thanks his lucky stars that he did. As he approached her, his hopes were high. Until she noticed him, turning to acknowledge the younger man. When he went to open his mouth, it flopped open and then closed after several seconds of awkward silence.

A grin spread across her face before she spoke, “You have got to be Linda and Richard’s son. Handsome like your father, and venturesome just like your mother. Now, what did you walk all the way over here for? Looked like you were about to say something interesting,” she teased, a hand going to her hip as she shifted on her feet.

“Ransom. That’s my name. Uh, I just…what I mean to say is, um-”

“Slow down, baby boy,” she soothed, stopping him mid-ramble to step closer so she could hold his chin between her manicured thumb and forefinger, “What did you want to say, Ransom?”

Her gaze drew him in, and he instantly felt at ease, gaining his voice back. “I wanted to know if you had plans for midnight, Mrs. Kensington. You know, the kiss?” he asks, voice trembling only slightly.

“It’s Ms. Kensington. You want to be my midnight kiss?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him, “That is very bold of you to ask, especially coming from a virgin,” she said matter-of-factly.

His eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead at the mention of his still intact virginity. Up to this point, no one knew he’d never been laid. He’d had his share of kissing, sure. Every time he wanted to go the distance, it never panned out. But how could she tell?

“You’re wondering how I know. You just have that look about you. Not necessarily innocent, more like naïve. And damn lucky that I don’t already have a kiss lined up. Meet me up there at midnight,” she instructed, peeking up the stairs to the area overlooking the party.

All Ransom could do was nod, for fear that opening his mouth would be a repeat of his earlier blunder.

“Now, shoo. I have other guests to entertain, and that precious face of yours will surely divert my attention,” she insisted, her hand patting his baby-faced cheek as she walked around him.

Ransom was left gobsmacked. He succeeded at talking to a woman. Well, he only succeeded with her help, but he’s not gonna mention that if anyone asks. For all intents and purposes, he’s arranged a secret rendezvous with an older woman. No elaboration was necessary, according to him at least.

For the next few hours, Ransom not-so-sneakily kept an eye on wherever Ivy went. He wouldn’t call it stalking her. He was just protecting his interests. He watched as man after man came up to Ivy, crowding her personal space. Ransom was seething quite visibly until he saw how elegantly she dispatched each potential suitor, politely letting them down and sending a look his way to let him know she saw him in the crowd.

He stopped sneering as much after that. She could handle herself just fine without him lurking. He knew that now, but it didn’t stop his eyes from searching for her the rest of the night. 

As 9 turned into 10 and 10 turned into 11, he busied himself with sitting on one of the exquisite phthalo green velvet couches in the parlor. He looked at all the knickknacks that Ivy must have picked up on various excursions around the world. For a moment, he felt like he may be underwhelming to such an amazing woman. But he let that thought die as people started to count down from ten in the other room.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, taking the long staircase two steps at a time to get to the top where Ivy stands waiting for him. Standing in front of her, his focus tied to her and only her. As the partygoers counted down to 1, his hand snaked around her shorter form and pulled her close.

Their breaths mingled; body heat was shared between them. The instant their lips met; it was over. As if the entire party vanished, neither of them tried to keep the kiss innocent. Deepening the kiss, Ransom used his tongue to massage hers, eliciting a deep rumbling moan out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Emboldened by his position, he let his hand slide down past the small of her back to her ample backside. Giving it a healthy squeeze, he sighed into the kiss when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

As Ivy broke the kiss, she rested her forehead against his as they both caught their breath. Ivy lifted her head and smiled as she saw her garnet-toned lipstick smeared across his lips. He looked thoroughly debauched between the makeup on his face and the state of his hair. This simply would not do.

At his furrowed brow, she removed herself from his embrace and took his hand in hers. Pulling him down the long hallway, they entered the master bedroom and made their way to the attached bathroom. He finally caught his reflection in the mirror as she grabbed a makeup wipe from the cabinet. She cleaned his face while holding his jaw as if she thought he would try and escape from her grip. His gaze stayed on her face the entire time.

It had been so long since someone cared for him in this way. He watched as she threw away the wipe in the trash and finger-combed through his hair, making him presentable once again. In a flash, he was in a trance, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He felt so safe with Ivy like she could tell him to do anything, and he would do it without question. He was so deep into subspace that he barely registered Ivy calling his name as he blankly stared at her.

“Ransom? Talk to me, baby,” she encouraged, the back of her hand sweeping down his cheek. His eyes closed as she administered the simple yet desirable touch. 

His mouth opened as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, but no words followed his actions. Ivy guided him back to the bedroom to sit down on the King-sized bed. All the while, he remained focused on her. 

“Alright, baby boy, you gotta help me out here. Where did you go? Come on back to Mommy,” she prodded, surprised when Ransom bit his lip at her use of the word Mommy. Her eyes grew dark, and she understood instantly what he needed from her.

She instructed him to lay back on the bed and he did so promptly. The tent in his pants highlighted his arousal as she climbed over his lap. His hands moved on their own to pull her hips flush with his, but she swatted them away.

“Ask for permission to touch Mommy, baby boy,” she directed, her hands ghosting over his chest as he breathed shallowly.

“May I please touch you, Mommy?” he begged, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“After being so polite, how can I say no to my baby boy?” she conceded, reaching up to let the top of her dress down so her breasts could spill out, “You may touch Mommy, baby.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he mewled, gripping one breast in each hand as she sat down on his clothed cock. 

She felt his length and girth with how hard he was. He felt the heat coming from her pussy as she ground into him. They both felt the intensity in the air surrounding them. When Ivy leaned down to let Ransom suckle her breast, he did so with a little too much enthusiasm at first. Once he got into a rhythm, he relished that he was able to pull soft whines from her.

Soon enough, he began to feel the tightening chokehold of his impending orgasm. He stopped sucking on her tits and chased after his inevitable end. But he was interrupted by Ivy’s words and the abrupt halt of her hips.

“Baby boy, if you want to cum tonight, you’re gonna need to make Mommy cum first. Is that understood?” she challenged.

“Yes, Mommy,” he sputtered, groaning when she started to grind into him again.

She rode him like her life depended on it, and honestly, when an orgasm was on the horizon, it felt pretty on the nose. He watched her face as she succumbed to the continuous poking of the tip of his dick into her swollen nub. He coveted the way her legs tightened around him, imagining what it would feel like to be inside her when she cums.

That thought proved to be overwhelming and while she was coming down from her high, he followed right after her. Like waves crashing into a pier, his climax washed over him. White-hot heat rushed through his cock as it spilled his jizz inside his pants. Ivy, in all her glory, never stopped riding him as he came. Even as it became too much and he whimpered for her to stop, she only slowed down. She enjoyed it so much, watching him fall apart under her.

As a tear escaped his eye, she let up on her cruel punishment of his overworked length. She removed herself from his lap and crawled up the bed to take him in her arms. His breathing had calmed down and he laid his head against her chest, idly sucking on one nipple as he lay there. He looked up into her eyes and she smiled down at him, effortlessly putting him at ease. 

They stayed that way until Ransom started to squirm in her arms, surely not enjoying the way his cum was starting to dry against his skin. She cleaned him up in the bathroom, her mouth gaping open when she finally caught sight of the sheer size of his cock. If she was ever going to get to ride it, she would need a lot of prep. He put a hand over hers when she unconsciously began to pump his soft penis.

She thought he had been trying to get her to stop but was surprised when he only wanted to change the pace of her hand. He threw his head back when she tightened her fist and knelt in front of him. Watching her through heavy-lidded eyes, he babbled nonsense for a moment until his balls drew up and he shot milky ropes into her waiting mouth. His hands went to her shoulders and unsteady legs doing their best to hold him up after blowing his load twice.

He had heard of post-nut clarity, but he was experiencing something completely different. Perhaps akin to love, but not as deep. He watched as she swallowed, warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe he was wrong, feeling more and more entranced by Ivy with every second they spent together.

She fixed her dress and her lipstick, leaving the red smudges on his cock with a smile as she zipped him up. She took him further down the hall to a hidden stairwell that led into the kitchen. They had evaded any prying eyes from partygoers, making it seem like they had been in this room the whole time.

Famished from earlier activities, they munched on hors d’oeurves and made comfortable small talk. All earlier nervousness was a distant memory as they laughed and carried on like two lovesick teenagers.

Well, like one lovesick teenager and a grown-ass woman. At this point, age was nothing but a number. A number that neither of them cared about. They exchanged numbers, making a point to see one another again.

Eventually, they made it back into the party. Ivy made sure to say a lengthy farewell to Ransom’s parents, praising them for raising such a gentleman much to the shock of Richard and Linda, but they recovered gracefully. Shortly thereafter, the Drysdales made their exit.

During the car ride home, Richard joked that Ransom had a schoolboy crush on Ivy. ‘If they only knew,’ he thought to himself.

Over the rest of his winter break from college, Ransom spent more and more time with Ivy where she taught him tip after hint after trick about pleasing a woman. It was less out of the goodness of her heart and more about the kismet between them. She enjoyed his banter as much as his body. He loved coming to her place for a home-cooked meal and the company of a woman who thought the world of him.

When the winter break ended, Ransom spent his last night in town with Ivy. Of course, his parents showed barely any interest in the fact that he was leaving early or who he was spending his time with. In their eyes, he was not only an adult, but also no longer their problem. 

Ransom had hoped that finally, Ivy would let him make love to her. But she felt a strange sense of moral obligation when it came to him losing his virginity. As much as she wanted to be his first, she didn’t want him to get even more attached to her. She knew he was in love, and if she let herself follow him, it would not end pretty. Better to end their little doomed romance now, before either of them could get hurt.

Explaining all of this to him went better than she expected. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, jaw tightening as he looked away from Ivy. She counted to five before reaching a hand to his shoulder, surprised when his hand covered hers. 

Unshed tears shone in his eyes when he turned to look back at her again. Maintaining eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of her knuckles. He still relished the way her breath caught in her throat when he showered her with affection.

“No matter what happens, just remember this moment. It’s just us here, no one else. If this is the last moment we share, let’s make it worth it,” he pressed, praying for all the world that she would change her mind.

“Ransom, this isn’t exactly easy for me. I want you, please know that. But you deserve to have a relationship with someone. Perhaps, someone closer to your age. Someone with shared experiences. I would only be holding you back. That is my honest opinion,” she sniffed, continuing to reluctantly push him away.

“I won’t ever stop wanting you. You make me feel things I never thought were possible. I just wish I could give you a fraction of what you give me,” he lamented.

“Trust me, you have made an impact on my life. Who knows? Maybe one day down the line, we could get together and get a cup of coffee and laugh about this,” she hinted, hoping he would take her olive branch.

“I hope we can. I’m gonna hold you to it,” he beamed, a grin painting his features and replacing the sad look he once wore, “I should get going, I guess.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she said, standing and letting him lead the way. 

She wasn’t surprised at all when he kissed her neck while hugging her. Nor when he predictably trailed kisses over her jaw and up to her lips. But she couldn’t hold back her delight when he nibbled at her bottom lip and soothed away the sting with his tongue.

For a moment, when he leaned back from her, they just looked into each other’s eyes. Nothing was said because words were unnecessary at this point. Every moment, every kiss, every shared laugh was worth it to be able to share this last long gaze.

As soon as Ivy closed the door behind Ransom, she slumped to the floor and cried her eyes out.

That night, as he drove home from Ivy’s estate, Ransom shed tears all the way back to his dorm room. 

17 Years Later

Ransom is in town for a New Year’s Eve party thrown by his grandfather. He’s grown to loathe the damned holiday and it’s not a wonder why. He’s only there to make an appearance and swiftly leave before having to make awkward small talk with his parents. While sneaking into the kitchen to find the secret stash of cookies, he overhears a sound he hasn’t heard in so long but would recognize it anywhere.

He follows the source of the laughter and is astounded to see her standing and speaking to his grandfather. Entering the living room fully, he clears his throat and they both look at him. The look on Ivy’s face of pleased anticipation threw gasoline on a fire in his soul that he thought had long gone out.

“Ivy Kensington, I’d like to introduce you to my oldest grandson. Ransom Drysdale, meet Ivy,” Harlan remarks, not knowing that these two are very well-acquainted already. Harlan excuses himself, leaving them alone in the room.

“Ransom, I-”

“You look amazing,” he blurts, cutting her off before she can say anything.

They share a laugh, a moment of excitement and comfort between them. Staring into each other’s eyes told them everything they needed to know. 

And as the partygoers start to count down from 10, they realize they have been sitting in the living room for hours exchanging stories of the past and what they were up to now. The worries they had once upon a time were all gone. All that was left was the sliver of opportunity that wafted in the air once they shared a kiss.

The passion was there as if it was still so many years ago. As if Ransom didn’t have laugh lines or crow’s feet when he smiled. As if Ivy wasn’t sporting a few perfectly groomed grey hairs sprouting about in her curls. As if that final goodbye wasn’t all that final.

And that was as good a place as any to start.

A/N: OK so this was my first time writing Ransom and I made him kinda soft as puppy toes in most of this. I hope you enjoy it.

**Tag List**

@blackwood4stucky @peyton-warren

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁