#sub ransom

[fandomfluffandfuck]

oughhh that sharper gifset u reblogged.... yknow i love that both seb and chris have characters that are mommy kink coded 🥴 max burnett and ransom drysdale anyone? now i'm thinking of both of them on their knees, one bratty baby and one subby baby (it's probably obvious who is which lol) getting edged by their shared mommy while they whine and whimper 🥵 who breaks first? who refuses to beg? these are the important questions everyone should be asking themselves 😏

(thank u mr s for having a space to entertain these horny thots 🙈)

related to this

Two things--

This fucking song

2. I have not actually seen Sharper or Knives Out, so if this is out of character or weird... that's why. I have seen enough of Ransom on Tumblr to approximate his character for my needs (👀) but I haven't seen much love for Max, so he's more of an unknown to me.

And in my quest for this answer, I have to say, I checked the Wiki for Sharper and literally had to shut my laptop for a moment after reading, "[i]t is later revealed that Madeline and Max are not mother and son, but lovers who are targeting Richard." You can't make this shit up. Max has a mommy kink the size of fucking Texas. Like. Shut up!! Fuck him!!

Max x Ransom x fem!reader under the cut. Lots of subbiness and Mommy kink, too, lol

Who's bratty? Who's just subby?

You mentioned this is obvious and it fucking is, but I still want to expand on it because Ransom is a goddamn brat, and Max--once he's trusting and has faith he's not facing another con artist who will eat him up like ice cream to a hot spoon--is the mushiest sub to ever sub.

Ransom has gotten everything he's ever wanted his entire life just be virtue of being born to wealthy parents. He has always existed in the bubble of the very upper class, enjoying generational wealth as a well of pleasure that will never run dry. So, of course, when Mommy comes into his life and he wants, it's totally new to him to have her not fold to his every desire...

And when he figures out that she won't spoil him--different from everyone else he's ever met in the most entrancing kind of way that he can't have enough of, greedy as always--he huffs and puffs, pouts and grumbles, and just generally doesn't fucking understand. He brats.

He waits hours, even days to call or text back. He turns his cheek when Mommy asks if he likes what she's wearing, huffing that it's alright. He won't admit where he wants to go on dates and doesn't know what to do with himself when she tells him to pay, jaw-dropping. He gets off with her and doesn't offer to return the favor, instead, rolling over and falling asleep (or even just pretending to fall asleep) as if he has reason to be exhausted when she does all of the work. He's so bratty he's rude but Mommy doesn't excuse his behavior. She holds him accountable. She takes his phone when they meet up, has him unlock it, and sets her messages to priority notifications so he has no excuse and she knows when he's being obtuse. She grabs his chin and makes him look at her, locking their eyes together, then dragging his chin down and up to appreciate her. She snaps at him when he can't come up with a compliment fast enough, telling him sweetly, dangerously, "you can do better, honey," when he stutters out simply, "p-pretty." She adores pushing him to blush and stagger. She chooses where they go on dates, taking Ransom places he would never choose to prove her point. You answer when Mommy asks you a question. She makes him pay and tip more than a generationally wealthy brat like him would ever dream of. She decides if she's not going to cum when they hook up because Ransom makes her, he won't either, he'll just have to hold out until he figures out how to make her orgasm or until he begs to be shown how Mommy likes to be touched.

Her dominating insistence works, and Ransom folds under pressure, but he doesn't stop bratting in the first place. He just waits until it's too much to keep going, his brain melting because he loves it but he's not going to tell that to Mommy, that will just make her all more difficult, resisting his every whim and want, and he doesn't like difficult. He likes easy. He likes being spoiled. He... conversely, really likes being made to work for it with Mommy. He has to repeat to himself before he sees her, I like to be spoiled. I like to be spoiled. I, I, I like to be spoiled, dammit! having a mini tantrum in front of his vanity mirror.

Max, as mentioned, needs some time to warm up, he knows the cards he holds up his own sleeve at all times, but he doesn't know that of others always. He's a pretty decent card counter, but he's learned the hard way that there are people who are better at it than him, and not everyone is playing with the same set of cards or abiding by the same rules. So he's careful. He has to be, he can't be collared with his head in the hands of every beautiful, strong woman he meets (as much as he might like to be).

The minute he warms up from a block of ice, he's melting into a puddle...

He will do anything for Mommy.

Any ask she could possibly have.

His favorite thing, though, if he had to pick himself, is being ordered around like a personal servant. When Mommy snaps and points at the floor, waiting expectantly until his knees hit the floor and he hurriedly starts the process of undoing her shoes, slipping them off her feet and kissing his way from the tops of her feet up her legs, shins, knees, thighs, inner thighs, pus-- God, he leaves his body, shuddering under the weight of his lust. He loves being useful for Mommy. He will eagerly fetch Mommy's more comfortable clothes so she can slip out of her work clothes, letting her sit, reclined on the bench of Mommy's house's entryway while he skitters away. He will watch Mommy sigh as she pulls off her bra, and moan when she flicks it over toward him, tossing it over his face, and allowing him the luxury of touching her undergarments. He will learn her favorite cocktails and liquors, mixing her drinks at her request. He will be her mirror, adjusting her hair or telling her when her makeup has smeared or worn off or being a sturdy pillar to hold while she slips into heels or literally fucking anything. He will be anything. He just wants to be hers.

He wants to be good for Mommy more than he wants oxygen.

And Mommy, of course, uses him up. Who would she be to deny him, such a sweet little submissive?

Before Ransom and Max meet each other and learn how to get along, Mommy's favorite days are spent bouncing between them. The contrast is so satisfying. She spent the previous night with Max, getting off so many times that her legs turn to jello and she physically can't cum anymore with his wicked, thoroughly servicing mouth and cock and hands, has a slow morning with her precious, desperately good boy, letting him cook for her and allowing him to assist her in getting dressed. Then, she has him leave and she goes out to find Ransom. Max is an immediate hit; Ransom is an exercise in patience. Mommy wears him down throughout lunch and into dinner. By the time the dessert course comes, Ransom is whimpering under his breath, needy and broken open.

Who breaks first?

You would think it would be Max. But actually, I don't think Max breaks first simply for the fact that he doesn't actually break in a scene unless you count the moment his eyes roll back in pleasure when Mommy finally decides he can have an orgasm. The thing is, really, that Max is already broken going in. That's how fucking soft and subby he is. He doesn't need to be broken. He gives in, easily without any rigidity, so there's nothing to put tension into and snap.

All Mommy does is tell him his place, reminding him of it oh-so softly, and he's already done for.

Ransom, however, holds more than enough rigidity to store up the tension until he breaks. He doesn't just break, though. He doesn't even snap. When he breaks, he shatters. Scattering into a million tiny pieces that beg to be mocked and dominated in a way only Mommy can provide.

So, Max doesn't break. He doesn't have a bone in his body to fracture, he's already just a puddle. But Ransom does.

Ransom breaks much, much later than before the beginning of a scene. It takes him well into the scene, probably even more than halfway through on a typical day.

But...

At some point, he gets worn down, affected not only by the mouth-watering rough, unforgiving treatment Mommy gives him but also so deeply aroused seeing how good Max is getting it. Max is an example--when all three of them are together or when blackmail-worthy pictures, voice notes/voicemails, or videos are shared between them--of perfect obedience. Max is good. And Max is rewarded for not pushing back, only being pushed in the direction Mommy wants him to go. He folds. He bends over backwards. He does anything. No matter how embarrassing or confidence-building. Simple or complex. Sexual or not.

Watching the way Max moves, the way he shudders, the way he obeys... Ransom understands what Mommy sees in him and in Max. He understands the urge to dom, suddenly. He's a brat but he has no real compulsion to dom in the bedroom--he thought he did, maybe once, but faced with a real dom like Mommy?

God.

He doesn't want it.

He wants what Max has.

What Max gets for being a good boy.

He wants to shatter apart, whining, whimpering, and getting rewarded.

He wants the same treatment. He wants Mommy to be nice to him. He wants to deserve it. What can he do to make it up to Mommy? He needs to know! And that's the moment he breaks, his eyes opening wide from their challenging squint to get big, watery, and begging.

Who refuses to beg?

With relation to all of that-? ^ You know what I'm about to say.

Ransom.

The brat won't beg until he's damn well ready to. He's a stubborn little bitch until he's not. When he isn't, though, the floodgates open and he begs to the point that he doesn't even know what he's begging for. Predictably, his begging does always, always, always start with begging for forgiveness. And by the end, he just might be begging for mercy... it depends on what Mommy has in store for him and how far she wants to push him once she has him in her grasp.

But, also, he conveniently always seems to forget, in moments when he's not broken--shattered into submissive pieces of a fine, expensive porcelain vase that was dropped on the floor--that he does beg. He prances around like he's too proud to beg and has remained that way as if he's never been ground down to a puddle next to Max, just the same spilled, boneless shape. Max is ice that's melted, easy and common, but still so divine and exciting, while Ransom is rock, needing higher heat and pressure before succumbing to his true nature.

So, most of the time when Ransom does start begging... it ends up on film. And whenever he starts to feel too proud, Mommy sends him a little text. Audio or video of him moaning, "pleasepleasepleaspleasepleaseplease, Mommy, mommyyyy, please!" Hardly taking a breath to gasp, all urgent and thoughtless.

Mommy also uses those same clips to torture Max, though. Don't worry. He's not left out.

Max will absolutely beg if Mommy requests, he'll beg for the most embarrassing of things just because she says so--beg to be allowed to go to the bathroom, beg to be allowed to smell her panties after she's ruined them with wetness, beg to be allowed to move, etc.--but usually he doesn't say much of anything. When he's floating high or swimming deep in subspace, he tends to go super spacy and nonverbal. The best he can do is moan, gasp, or whimper. Words get too hard. And he's too easy and simple.

He's so easy and simple just a little clip of Ransom at his most desperate will send him into a spiral, the sound playing loud and clear through his Airpods, leaving him slouching wherever he stands, knees weak, eyes glazing over, and skin blushing the cutest pink.

Yeahhh...

Mommy's boys.

(Okay, okay, okay, one last song, this one is a little harsher and probably much more of Ransom's vibe than Max's but it still fucks)

(Fine, okay, I'm actually done now)

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brat Taming: Part 13

A/N: Smut is prevalent in the chapter, with overstimulation, vibrators, teasing and edging, domination/submission and punishments. Please don’t read it if it makes you uncomfortable

Ari had certain expectations when it came to making his office run seamlessly, as he should have, and there was an incredible amount of tenacity to his patience. He was not a man who could easily be angered by desperate attempts to get him to react unless there was a direct threat to the people he loved and wanted to protect.

It was one of his traits as an alpha that separated him from what seemed like the other 50% of alphas who seemed to make up the designation.

It seemed as if at least half of their designation had the same distinctive abilities to be good alphas without having to rely on traits that could have been deemed toxic. Ari and Steve, even Ransom if he had tried to put in more effort to not be such an arrogant prick to other people, were all good alphas at the root of themselves.

Both of the older alphas had deeply embedded protective tendencies, an ability to understand and compassionately grasp the workings of an omega’s hindbrain without reducing them to their basest selves.

Ransom was cocky, he was an arrogant and rich alpha who could have had anything or anyone handed to him on a silver platter. He was born with a silver spoon shoved up his ass and that had damaged his ability to deny the toxic traits that made omegas want to settle down with the alpha.

However like Ari & Steve believed, Ransom only had to meet the right omegas who wouldn’t immediately cater and submit to his whims, but rather they would try to push him to his limits and make him back down. It was what made you and Jake everything those alphas needed.

It was your fire and your ability and nature to be bratty that drove every one of your alphas crazy with need. Your tendency as omegas to feel comfortable enough to push back against the alphas was both embraced and revelled in.

They enjoyed their omegas brattiness, the back and forth that aided the bonds that were being built was a necessity to have an unbreakable relationship.

However patient Ari was, and however indifferent he could have been, he had found your punishment just as invigorating and addictive as your attitude was.

He was just waiting for it, just waiting for the opportunity to punish you as a good alpha would have. The alphas knew, all of them had been aware, that you and Jake were dealing with the sensations of being marked and mated.

They had been well aware that you both were settling in your bratty moods and with a common agreement between you, albeit made through your natural bond as best friends and lovers and had kickstarted the punishments that were befitting for both of you.

With you at work in the office making comments under your breath about Ari and his first assistant degrading the choice to have someone who was so aggravating without trying, had incited his decision to punish you.

Normally this patient alpha would have let you mumble every comment under the sun about his first assistant who he knew could be difficult to deal with, however today Ari couldn’t let it slide.

Whether it was his unwillingness to go through a teleconference knowing you were outside of his office wearing a skirt that was far too easy to slide up your thighs and a piece of cloth obscuring your sweet little cunt from his view, or whether it was his vivacious lust and hunger, it had all ended at the same conclusion.

Ari had stepped out of his office, pausing to listen to you muttering your annoyance at both your boss and the woman you claimed was the wicked bitch of the West.

He had watched you while leaning against the frame of his door, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked as his eyes had become engrossed with thick seams of desire. It was reflective of his need for you, his dire hunger that aided him to make a demand that caused hair at the nape of your neck to stand and your eyes to grow wide.

“Y/N, my office. Now.” The command was sent from his mouth, and you were immediately aware of how rooted he was in his alpha hindbrain.

He had seen your lips part with a potential argument, a rebuttal that he wished you would’ve let fall from your lips. He wished you would have fired back with some kind of aggravated response to Ari’s demand, earning another punishment that you didn’t know was coming.

It could’ve been a demand that could have been negated, or at least an attempt could have been made, however, Ari was pleased to see you standing immediately to follow him toward his office.

“Is there anything you need of me, Mr. Levinson?” His first assistant had already started to rise to her feet, overeager to please him in any manner despite already being in a steady and comfortable relationship with her alpha.

It was after Ari had settled a hand on your back to lead you into his office, to the punishment waiting for you, that he had looked over his shoulder with a controlled half-smirk on his face.

His first assistant was not guarded with her disdain for you and your role in the office, especially since you had been sleeping with the boss and getting away with it. However, Ari was just as displeased about her attitude toward you and had already been making plans to have another reasonable offer sent her way for a new job.

“Go home, you have the rest of the afternoon off.” Ari had closed the door without allowing another potential argument and just as quickly locked the door behind him.

He stood and faced you, silence between the two of you was not stale or stagnant, it was fuelled by desire and mild confusion, knowledge of what was to come and expectations of pleasure and pain.

“I have a meeting, Y/N.” Ari’s long stride had taken him past you and around the side of the desk, his leather chair angled to the left of his computer.

“If you needed me to take notes-“

“Did I ask you to take notes?” Ari spoke over you with a bite, the force behind his words making you shudder and whimper simultaneously. “You’re going to keep me occupied.”

Ari placed a hand upon the back of the chair, steadying it as he sat down upon the cushioned bottom and then he spread his legs. His cock was strained and throbbing beneath the seams of his slacks and with a single wave of his hand, you had started to walk toward him with your hands by your sides and your eyes still unnerved.

When you were within reach, Ari grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him and his hard-on, your palm jutted toward the bulbous head. Ari’s voice was laced heavily with need, your name falling from his lips as he made you squeeze his erection.

The intent was known and the command had been all too easily absorbed as you recoiled and lifted your skirt, your hands holding the material in order for him to hook his fingers in the band of your panties to yank them down your thighs.

“This is a punishment,” Ari addressed you with a firm tone yet no less loving than before, “you wanna be a brat? You get punished.”

He enjoyed your verbal exhilaration when he smacked your ass, his palm cracking against your flesh before his fingers dug into you. He had pulled you back toward him, keeping a hand on your ass and the other busied with freeing his thick and throbbing cock.

“You’re going to keep my cock warm while I take this teleconference. If your try and get off my cock before the meeting is finished, you’ll be under the desk sucking me off. If you cum before I say you can, you won’t cum for a week.” Ari’s hands settled on your hips and he arranged you between his legs, giving you no room to protest as he lowered you to his cock, your puffy pussy lips already wet.

The head of his cock had started to part your labia, the seeping precum mixing with your desire, and his name all too easily fell from your lips when he made you take all of him into your tight cunt. When he had settled you in your place, Ari leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the nape of your neck, almost entirely too soft and contradictory to his demanding dominance.

“You have your warning, brat.” Ari’s lips parted and he nipped your flesh as a warning. “I would love any reasons to punish you further, let’s see if you earn the right to cum or if you’ll end up with a week of denial.”

It was hard to breathe without shuddering, hard to contend with the twitch of Ari’s thick bulbous head as it plunged into your cunt.

It was hard to function and focus on taking notes while Ari was on a teleconference since you were being stretched and filled to the brim, wholly and entirely stuffed. He was ruthless, smacking your puffy and hard clit when you faltered, all entirely fuelled by his irritation with your attitude.

“Maybe next time you’ll think about being such a brat. I’m your alpha sweetheart but I’m also your boss.”

“Are you focusing?” You shuddered and whimpered, his voice husky and hoarse in your ear while his fingers deftly plucked at your hard little nub. “I almost feel sorry for you…but I know you like it.”

“J-Jake-” your voice shook, indelibly able to detect his state of being like a dull fog at the back of your mind.

“Yes, Jake is learning a hard lesson too.” Ari purred huskily in your ear and then taunt you further, starting to tap his fingers against your hard clit with every illicit breath you’d taken.

“We’re planning on taking full advantage of our private dining room, puppy. And you are going to take your punishment with pride.”

Wine, he thought as he swallowed what was given to him, wine should’ve made him feel better and yet it was another delectable sensation intent on ruining him. A good wine that Ransom assured would be palatable with the edging Jake deserved, and he was right.

He had been overstimulated already, entirely too full and stretched with a vibrator in his tight asshole and a ring pulsing at the base of his cock, Jake was being dragged through countless rounds of edging that had only been part of his punishment.

The argument that started it all had come from Jake and focused more on Steve than Ransom. It was a few remarks about Steve’s sexuality and the urge to just jump from the edge of the cliff. Jake had pressed Steve to be bolder with himself, given that there wasn’t anything to fear about being open with how and who he loved.

And though the comments had meant to encourage Steve, it had taken a turn when Steve had embraced Jake’s open brattiness and reassured him that being bold was nothing new to Jake.

“Full, puppy?” Jake’s shiver was inductive of his tension, his cock begging for release that wasn’t granted to him by Steve or Ransom. “I think you’re enjoying yourself.”

It was pleasured and painful torture that left no bruises or marks. It was the sensation of the dildo in his ass vibrating when Steve turned it on and the fallout after it was turned off to give him a chance to calm down. Between the remote in Steve’s control, the remote in Ransom’s control and what he could detect from you, Jake was truly going to lose his mind.

“He can handle it, he’s a big boy.” Steve was almost erotically sadistic when he leaned toward Jake to cup his cheek and turn his head. “You can handle it, right Jake?”

His lips met Steve’s and he tried to chase the feeling, only to fall short and whine in desperation when Steve pulled away.

The super soldier had let go of Jake’s chin and patted his cheek twice, and then he leaned back against his chair and raised a hand to signal the waiter. With striking confidence that made Jake believes he had been playing the entire time, Steve had brazenly raised the remote in his other hand and pressed the button twice.

The shock of the faux cock in his ass had earned another husky groan that fell too easily from Jake’s lips, and the sudden jerk of his hips to seek some kind of pleasurable release from the toys that he was being teased with.

“If you cum, you’re going to pay for it.” Ransom’s warning was whispered as a seductive command in his ear, the deterrent coming with another level of erotic intimacy as the alpha command had settled in his hindbrain.

Thick fingers slipped beneath the table, a hand sliding up a covered thigh while he was truly and well on his way to losing his mind. Trapped under electrifying gazes that burned through him, it wasn’t just one but two that had given him no reprieve from the building tension and cathartic need to reach his end. This was a punishment for his decision to push both of them to their limits, though it wasn’t conventional in any sense.

When Jake had been under the impression that he was going to be punished, he’d thought it would involve Shibari or some restraints to keep him still. He’d never anticipated his ass being stuffed full of a vibrating cock while his shaft and balls were being stimulated by the same torturous quivers.

It was clear that Jake and yourself were being manhandled by your alphas to be punished, he could feel your pleasured pain through the bonds that you and Jake had formed from childhood, and he knew that he wasn’t alone.

“You’ve barely touched your food.” Teasing words that rolled off a silver tongue paired with fingers that slipped further up his thigh before ultimately squeezing the thick throbbing hard-on trapped beneath Italian slacks. “You should eat something.”

“Something wrong, pup?” Steve crooned, raising his fork to his lips to enjoy the seared steak he had been craving. “Not hungry?”

“Ohhh fuck…” Jake’s head lolled back, his eyes screwing closed as vibrations coursed in his ass, the vibrator used to drive him toward a slow orgasm was maddening. “P-please-!”

“I think we need dessert,” Ransom leaned in close to Jake, his tongue lapping at sweat-laden flesh while his hand closed around Jake’s clothed cock. “You’re going to have to wait longer to cum, brat.”

“I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” Jake hissed, his eyes straining to open and his teeth gritting as he cursed with the tension that was rattling him. “Please, fuck-!”

He jerked his hips and dug his nails into the tablecloth with almost enough tension to tear the fabric clean. Jake had ground his teeth with every pulse that rocked his nervous system and drove his mind closer to temporary insanity.

There was no denying their domineering status as alphas, and Jake would later swear on his life that he loved being their little subby omega but at the moment he was fighting for his life.

“If you want to cum,” Ransom let go of his trapped erection and deftly unzipped Jake’s fly, his hand slipping in the opening to grasp his cock under the table, “you have to beg for it.”

The sound that fell from Jake’s lips was garbled and twisted, it wasn’t coherent in any manner but yet it still made his alphas starkly proud of the omega who had resisted until this moment.

He hadn’t been mentally aware of what he was saying, he was letting his tongue work on its own and had only recognized the permission that was given to him after Ransom had dug his teeth back into the mark on Jake’s neck.

The vibrations hadn’t ceased even as Jake had been granted the ability to chase his orgasm. His hips rocked as he threw himself back into the chair, his head lolling as their names rolled off his tongue as an erotic sonnet. It was blinding and white hot pleasure that shot through every nerve ending in his body, Jake’s mind contorted and twisted by desire and release while Ransom’s hand pumped Jake’s shaft.

And even as he started to come down from that high, pleasure was still falling upon him when he felt Ransom’s lips against Jake’s cock to clean his shaft and bulbous head.

“Thank you,” Jake’s chest was heaving with every strained breath, his body wracked with leftover trace amounts of electrifying pleasure, “that was incredible.”

His chin was grasped again, his face turned toward Steve and relief had soon been replaced by anticipation when the super soldier claimed Jake’s mouth as his.

“You’re not done yet.”

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[lifeissomethingelse]

Look what you have done

Summary:Your are Harlan’s favorite maid however you damage one of his books, “luckily” Ransom comes to the rescue…..for a price.

Pairing:Dark!Ransom x Maid!reader

Warnings: Blackmail, Free-Use, Smut, oral, dub-con,non-con, cursing, Degradation, Dominant! Ransom

shit. Shit. SHIT!

You stupid bitch!

You cursed yourself as you try to pick up the soiled draft of harlens new book that you spilled ink all over trying to clean his desk.

“I’m fucking fired, so fired! Fuck!” You thought trying to savage the soiled pages of literature covered in a Black Sea of ink.

You hands began to turn black while your thoughts race about the about of debt you have, the amounts of bills still unpaid, your mothers hospital bills, your fathers funeral bills. You needed this job like you needed air AND. YOU. FUCKED. UP.

Tears start to fill your eyes when you hear the sound of the door fly open. The worst possible person stepped into that door: not Harlan. Not Marta. The one and only over prevliged, asshole Ransom with his famous shit eating grin on his face.

Your eyes widen with shock, there is no way you can talk your way out of this.

His cold eyes look at your ink covered hands and ruined pages of Harlan new book draft.

“Well.Well. Well. What do we have here” he said while slowly closing the space between us. He broad larger frame hovering over me.

Shit. He was like a loin that found a deer with a broken foot. Helpless little prey.

I wipe the tears from your eyes and you watch his cold stares at the mess you made, he makes a exaggerated whistle of distressed.

“Harlan was actually really proud of this…..to bad his favorite maid fucked it up”

Your face brightens with anger, but the smartest thing to do in this situation for you, for your family…was beg. “Please…don’t tell. I-I beg of you, I need this j-“

His figure touches your lips and cuts you off.

“I’ll say it was me.” You heart starting beating fast.

Then it dropped as he continues to talk.

“He can’t fire me, worst case I would get one of his famous lectures”

“But in return….”

His large hand suddenly grabs your waist, causing you to feel his large hard-on against your thigh. You squirm as he finish his sentence.His eyes become dark like he sees through you…at that moment you became his possession.

“You ever heard of free use?”

———————————- ❤️—————————————

That was it. That’s how the got in this postion: on your knees taking out ransoms large hard on.

His large hand pushes your head down as he explains from this day forward your his personal fuck toy. You reluctantly fall to your knees, ready to take your punishment or blackmail. You look up at him. “Asshole”

He grabs your hair tightly making you whimper from pain.

“Watch your fucking mouth and suck my fucking Cock. Or. I. Tell.”

You look into his cold eyes, wanting to get it over with you swallow you pride and start to take his cock out, when he tugged again.

“No. Use your fucking teeth. “

You bite his silver zip and start to pull it down, you then use your teeth to pull down his pants, then his boxers. Your eyes widen. Fuck…

His throbbing member“accidentally” slaps you in the face. It’s long,thick and pulsing full of want.

He laughs as he sees pre-cum smeared on your right cheek.

“Suck it. Or I fuck your throat until your pass out”

You start to lick the tip then down the side of his shaft. Ransom moans in pleasure, putting his head back and gripping your head tighter.

To your own disgust and confusion, you cunt begins to drip.

You swirl your tongue at the tip and begin bobbing your head. You lower your head until the tip hits the back of your throat. “Fuck!”

To your disray ransom starts to roughly fuck your throat with no mercy. All the air in your lungs disappear as ransom takes over your body. Worse…you start to feel closer to your own pleasure. His lewd words made it worse.

“ Fuck I knew you were a good cock sucking whore, I own this fucking throat, I own this fucking cunt” “ I can see my cunt dripping right now”” your getting turned on sucking my big fat cock?”” Just imagine how you would be around my cock, even if it’s to much for you, I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t walk for days.”

You moan at his words, causing vibrations to go through his cock.You feel him getting closer to his bliss, your hands now move lower to your clit wanting to reach your own climax. “Don’t you dare touch my fucking cunt” “I’ll tell you when you can cum”

Degrading. Demanding. Possessive.

It awaken something in you that surprises yourself. You give in…submission

Both hands hold your head completely down on his cock, your nose touches his pubic hair. Split and drool run down from your chin to even dripping on the floor.

“Take. Every. Fucking. Drop.”

He makes a loud animalistic groan pushing his cock all the way down your throat, you look at him. Messy hair. Possessive eyes.

You feel a little pride build inside you for making him feel this good, his baby batter shoots the back of your throat. Tears fill your eyes trying to swallow everything.

He thrusts into your mouth a few times until he pulls out of your mouth. You look at him with watery eyes mixed with fear and arousal.

“This means we are even right?” You say with a sore throat. Your eyes widen when you hear him laugh.

Before you can ask him why he’s laughing, you feel him pick up your body slamming it on Harlan’s desk,in the doggy position. You try to move away as you can expect what’s coming next feeling his hot member pressing against your skirt. He holds you down with one hand while the other rips your underwear off. You yelp. He slaps your ass.

“Your a better cock sucker than I thought, I wonder how will your cunt feel around my big cock”

You start to feel the head of his cock pressing against your wet cunt. He slaps it a few times before asking you one last time.

“ are you gonna take this cock like a good whore?”

You bite your lip. You try to deny you like this.

“Yes sir”

“Good your mine now bitch” he says as he thrusts violently into your wet cave followed by a brutal thrust rhythm. You scream in both a mix of pain and pleasure.

“S-o D-ee-P!!”

Items from Harlan’s desk fall as the desk can barely take ransom’s ruthlessness.

“Take it”.

Like you had a choice.

( This is my first fanfic.)

[shamrockqueen]

Tell me more about In my Employ : Ransom Drysdale x reader and April Fools Lloyd Hansen x Reader !

Thank you so much for tagging me. It was really nice to revisit all of this again.

For In my Employ it’s inspired by the movie the secretary. Primarily the punishment and power dynamic between Ransom and the reader.

Another thing I wanted to explore was something once discussed on CSI and something similar that occurred in the secretary. A concept that the person in a sub dom relationship that holds the most power is the sub. The submissive having the power to end a session if too much but the dom is expected to always serve their purpose.

In CSI the Sub Killed her Dom’a wife so they could be together, and in the secretary Lee showed defiance even when following orders to sit at the desk and never move.

Snippet : ⬇️

“We can’t keep doing this.”

You didn’t respond to his absurd statement, standing instead stunned and rigid as he continued.

“…our little fling has gone too far. I don’t need my private business invading my public persona, so it’s best we break off this arrangement.” He spoke so coldly; chilled, and sterile as it burned your ears.

Your lungs ache as you cease to breathe, nearly coughing against all informed and misshapen words you want to throw at him. The corner of your eye seemed to twitch, the muscles pulling back repeatedly and involuntarily as he called your time together a little fling.

Your teeth ground together, your body tightening into a defiant stance he’d never seen from you before, followed by something he’d never thought he'd hear you say.

“No”

He stepped back, your coat slung over his arm and your shoes gripped by one of his hands as he gathered your things to coerce you out of his house.

“Excuse me?” He asked

“No!” It erupted from your burning lungs, shaking against his eardrums and echoing down his vast halls.

You never once denied him, all for mutual benefit. That was how the dynamic was supposed to be; he’d give, and you’d take all he'd lay upon you. You wouldn’t allow him to abandon you like an animal at the side of an empty highway. Not without you biting at him first.

[brokenpubby]

Want another subby puppyboy to smoke with and rub against. Wanna rub tdicks so bad 😣 and then suck each other off 🤤

{ Minors & TERFs DNI }

[littlelioncub43]

Ransom getting slapped by reader and getting so turned on😵‍💫 he’s just like “I-uhm…”, instead of cursing you out he turns into a shy subby

Oh man hehehe yes 😈

The moment your hand came into contact with his cheek, he let out a fluttering moan. The tilt of your head told him that you were surprised, but the growing smirk on your pretty lips told him that you were pleased.

"Oh, Ransom," you coo, condescension dripping from your tongue as you slide your hand along his jawline, caressing the stinging skin as he looked at you through his lashes. Another sound pulled itself from the cavity of his chest all on its own at the tender feeling of your hand on him, his cock painfully hard in his trousers. The weight of his head leaning into your warm palm made the giddy feeling in your heart spike happily.

"Another?" You ask calmly, stroking his bottom lip possessively, already not wanting to share your new little toy.

"Yes," he sighs under his breath. A moment passes with both of you just staring, silently reaffirming to each other that this was what you wanted.

"Alright, pet."

[martyrbat]

you can lead a god to the masses but you cant force them to pray or however the saying goes

[that-cheer-up-anon]

Across the Spider-verse still good third time around

[fandomfluffandfuck]

you wrote once abt a scene with ransom drysdale x dom mommy and it was fucking PHENOMENAL but i was thinking about what you think it would be like with a daddy instead of a mommy

related to this, and this

you'll probably enjoy this, too

I'm not taking requests right now, I know it's confusing because there are some thoughts people send me that I can't help but jump in on, and I reblog older requests. But. Yes. I'm not currently.

This is a really interesting thought, though! 👀

And there certainly needs to be more x male reader content out there. So, maybe eventually, I'll go back to this in a larger drabble 🤷🏻‍♂️

I think it'd be much the same, though. I purely imagine Ransom as a subby fucking mess. After years and years of being spoiled and living the high life, he's weak for being denied. Cock cages and permission to orgasm are the top of his kink list. Nothing makes him go quite as glass eyed and stupid as being told he has to earn his orgasms and then, even when he does earn them, one slip up of being bratty and... oh, isn't that unfortunate? Maybe Daddy will have to add another week onto your stay in that chastity cage. Isn't that sad, Hugh?

He'll absolutely try to make it up to you by slobbering on your dick, but you just make him blush and squirm, acting like it does nothing for you by degrading him, saying he's not pleasing you. He's all enthusiasm, no finesse. And, fuck, look at the mess you're making! C'mon, step up, Ransom. You're not making a good case for yourself.

That really lights the fire under his ass, leaving him pouting, lower lip wobbling, and teary-eyed. Determined to brat harder until he just... breaks. Sobbing and shaking and clinging to you, begging for forgiveness. He's trying so hard! It's not faaair!

Thanks for the ask! 😘

[runawaycarouselhorse]

[mommynott]

Taken

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: You never believed in the stories of abductions happening to mafia heiresses, but when it happens to you everything changes. Theo had calculated his moves with you carefully and capturing you at the perfect time. You learn quickly what his motives are with you…and you aren’t against them in the least.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, CHARS 18+, DARK THEMES!, mafia!theo, dom!theo, mafiaboss!theo, mafia au, abduction, slight coercion, choking, slapping, gunplay/gunkink, rough sex, manipulation, dom&sub, toxic themes overall, Theo obsessing over us and destroying us but he’s in the mafia

You’d always heard the stories: the heiress of a Mafia boss…abducted for her fortune and held for ransom. You never believed it could happen to you. After all, you were always careful. Your father had made sure you were constantly surrounded by bodyguards. But now…here you were. Taken from your own bedroom in the dead of night. Tied up in some random basement. How was this even possible? This was your worst nightmare coming to life.

The coarse fabric of the bag over your head was itchy against your delicate skin. You tried to keep your breathing steady under the material, but your heart was racing with fear and adrenaline. Who were these guys? The weight of the unknown pressed down on you as the men spoke in a foreign language. Their voices were too low to understand, the only word you could make out was a singular curse in Italian. “-Cazzo”

You tugged at the ropes binding your wrists, the fibers biting into your skin. You tried to steady yourself, Taking yet another deep breath. But the sound of footsteps on the floor startled you. Most of the men left the room but you could hear the sounds of chain jewelry rattling together. You weren’t alone.

The bag was finally ripped off your head, revealing none other than Theodore Nott. One of the most notable members of a rival mafia organization. His cold and calculating gaze met yours. He let out a low chuckle while leaning against the brick wall, smoothly crossing one leg over the other. "Well well…well," His voice mixed with amusement and danger. "Look who we have here…Little miss heiress….caught like a rabbit in a trap."

You tried to keep your expression collected, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. But you knew that he held all of the cards– tall, broad, muscular… and handsome. The sharp all black suit he wore only emphasized his intimidating yet seductive presence. "What do you want, Nott?" you gritted out, struggling against the ropes that held your dainty wrists behind the chair.

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Oh, bella…don't play dumb with me. You know exactly why I've got you here." Theo paced the room slowly, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey, wanting to play his games with you first. But even if you didn’t show it, you were filled with nothing but confusion. Why me? The two of you had never met formally but you’d heard of him of course. You kept quiet at first, squinting your eyes up to his.

"You think your little daddy can protect you?…. Don't be so naive." Theo taunted as His hand reached out to grasp your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. That icy stare of his etching into you, for some reason making your heart flutter. What the fuck?

You tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong, his fingers digging into the softness of your face. "Let me go, Nott," you spat, your voice coming out almost growl-like. A rush of four different emotions starting to pump within you. Confusion, anxiety, anger, and…arousal. Why the hell am I feeling turned on by this? By him?

Theodore chuckled again, his eyes darkening with malice. "Oh, you're feisty…I like that." He released your chin, his hand trailing along your jaw, tracing a path until his thumb brushed over your lower lip. For a split second his cold glare softened as if he was admiring you….your beauty.

"I bet your father would pay a pretty penny to get you back…But I'm not interested in money. I want something much…much more valuable." he murmured, his voice low, hinting with something of danger. Your brows furrowed, once again unsure of where this was heading.

He leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, something rich and woody. His darkened stare trailed down your neck, lingering on the rapid beating of your pulse. Obviously, you were nervous…but there was something else too. You swallowed hard and tried to keep your voice steady before repeating yourself. “What…what do you want?”

Theodore let his thumb play at your lower lip, caressing it before pulling it away, towering over you. He found this all too amusing as another deep laugh escaped his throat, letting it fade into a sigh. “You.” He growled out with a need, your eyes widening with surprise. Me? The fuck? Was this really happening? “I’m not under-“ Your words were cut off by Theo’s, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“-Ti voglio, Tesoro.” The Italian slipped through his lips with ease, his smirk only growing wider. But you? You weren’t having it…not yet. A brow shot up as annoyance painted your face. “I don’t speak Italian, Nott.” You spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep that power you always held together so well. But It seemed to crumble under his presence. You saw Theodore's jaw clench, clearly getting irritated with your behavior.

“I really have to spell it out for you…Don’t I, ereditiera?” He shoved his anger down, swallowing it whole for the time being while he teased the Italian nickname for heiress. But still, you were unamused, rolling your eyes in the usual bratty manner. Theo started to pace around you once more, his internal hunger only growing.

“…I…”

One of his hands dropped to your exposed shoulder, pushing over the silk strap of your nightgown. But you weren’t hating this, not at all. Your gaze following his every movement.

“…Want…”

His face grew closer to the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin. This sheer move causing goosebumps to prickle down your body. Fuck…he was attractive…would it be so bad?

“…You…”

He finally spoke the truth, the real reason for your abduction. It wasn’t for money nor for fortune. It was all for you. You could feel your chest rise and fall with each breath you took while he grazed his hands down your arm, swiftly untying your now bruised wrists. Hissing from the blood flowing back to them you turned your head back to meet his blueish eyes.

“You….you want me?” You asked softly, feeling your heart thump against your chest. Theodore bit his lower lip subtly but before he could get another word out, you spoke again, keeping that breathy manner. “…In what way?” You asked him, your eyes flickering up between his. I could escape…run..but hell…now I don’t want to.

“Well…I could tell you…” Theo stalked back around to the front of you, his hands trailing across your exposed flesh while he knelt in front of you. Now running his rough hands up your bare thighs, underneath the silk pajama. “-Or…I could show you…your choice, Cara Mia.”

With the options he gave you, there was only one choice you wanted. Fucking hell, show me. Nodding your head slowly you felt him start to press kisses up your leg. “…Show me…” You whispered as Theo parted your thighs, his gaze met with your leaking cunt. Fuck…I wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Good fucking girl, ereditiera”

He groaned, his eyes fixated on your pussy finding nothing but perfection in it. He snaked his hand to his back, grabbing his Matte Black pistol and wiggling it in front of you with a mischievous grin. Your heart sunk. Fuck was I wrong about this? Is he going to kill me? Theo could tell you were spiraling in your mind, laughing under his breath and shaking his head. “I’m not going to hurt you with it…”

A sigh of relief freed from your lips but now you were met with confusion again. Then what the fuck is he going to do with a gun? You tilted your head to the side, cocking a brow at him. “Then…what are-“ He cut you off once more, his tongue gliding across the inside of his cheek while he teased the pistol up your inner thigh. “I’m going to fuck you with it.” His tone was alluring, slowly dragging you to the darkest and filthiest places of his mind. And soon enough? Pleasure.

“O-okay” Choking your words out, you agreed to it. The danger of it fueling the arousal within you. Theo didn’t hesitate any longer once you had given him the green light. He teased the muzzle of the gun at your wetness. The cool slick metal causing you to shudder from under it. “Breathe, Tesoro.” He mumbled before slowly pushing the barrel into your entrance, your head tilting back as you took in the foreign object. Inch by inch, he pushed the pistol in deeper just until the trigger touched around your hole.

Theodore dragged the gun in and out of you slowly at first, letting you adjust to the difference. But fuck, your little whimpers were already driving him mad. His lips fell onto your mound, smacking little kisses across it. “How’s that feel, ereditiera? How’s it feel being fucked by my gun?” Theo asked in a taunting tone, pumping the barrel faster than before. You never expected to feel this fucking sensational by being fucked with a gun, yet here you were.

“It feels-Fuck!… It feels amazing…” You shuddered, biting back a loud moan just as Theo’s lips found their way to your swollen little bud. Sucking on it with an aching need while he continued to pump that cold metal inside of you, your wetness coating around the black barrel. He could see it…feel it…taste it. The sheer amount of pleasure he was providing you. “I see I’ve found my new addiction….Cum for me.” Theodore demanded into your soaked flesh, knowing you were on the brink of climax.

The risk of it. The taboo of it. The spontaneity. This was something you could only ever read in books, yet here you were. In a position you could only dream of. The foreign sensation mixed with Theo sucking on your clit like a starved man was sending your body into overdrive. A pulsating, vibrating need coursed through your veins as your body complied with Theo’s words. Your juices spilling onto his gun while he watched it progressively get more soaked. Your moans you tried oh so badly to hide were slipping freely from your lips now.

“The noises you make are incredible…” he husked out, his deep voice rugged as he slowly withdrew the pistol. A dragged-out whimper escaped from your throat as the afterglow began to hit you. Theodore stood up, unbuttoning his shirt quickly before letting it drop to expose his chiseled torso. He then moved over to his pants, unbuckling his belt and shuffling them right off, Theo’s massive length popping out fully erect, clearly turned on by what had just happened. He took his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly while his precum coated it. You were still trying to catch your breath, your legs already starting to shake from post-orgasm bliss. “…But…I want to hear those noises while I destroy you with my cock.”

You threw off your silk nightgown, tossing it to the concrete floor and leaving you fully exposed to Theo. His pupils dilated with desire as he strode toward you. Immediately picking you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “P-please….please fuck me.” You gasped just as he teased the tip of his length at your slick entrance. A groan of approval came out from Theo. He wanted you. Craved you. Needed you.

“I love to hear those sweet lips of yours beg for me.”

With that, he slammed himself deep inside of you. Not giving you any time to adjust to his huge throbbing cock. The feeling was almost spiritual-like, sending you into another dimension of pure ecstasy. Your fingers found their way into his locks, tugging at them teasingly. But Theo fucking loved it, his grunts with each thrust getting louder by the second. “ereditiera….you feel so-cazzo….so good-so fucking wet and tight for me.”

Your wet walls clenched around his cock as you slammed your lips to his, huffing into each other's mouths at this point. The sounds of groans and slapping of wet skin echoed around the dark basement. This kiss, this sex…it was as if it ignited your entire bodies, fusing into one. I have never experienced something like this before…Theo’s nails dug into the skin of your ass cheeks, helping you bounce on his cock right as he slammed you up against the brick wall. One hand remained on your now marked-up ass but the other snaked its way up to your neck, wrapping around your throat in the perfect amount of pressure. You never understood desire, that was until Theo’s hand was wrapped around your throat.

“T-Theo…I’m so close-fuck!…. Can I….can I please-“ Theo’s hand squeezed your throat a bit harder, causing your eyes to roll back. Again right on the edge of your sweet release. “Don’t hold back….finish…for me. Right fucking now.” With that, he tugged his hand away from your throat, bringing it up to give you two slaps across the apples of your cheeks. A yelp grasping from your lips, your moans turning into screams of pleasure. Fuck…I really liked this..a little too much. Fuck.

Theo railed into you forcefully, his precum already leaking and dripping right along your cervix. He was close too but he wanted you-no….needed you to finish again. Wanting to see how HE made you feel. The power he held from seeing you squirm, moan, cum….from him. Your tired body erupted into overwhelming pleasure. Your wetness squirting out onto Theo’s shaft and the sound of it trickling onto the hard floor. “Fuck…that’s mia ragazza. Cumming all over me-Fuck!” He growled, pushing his cock as deep as he could inside of you, feeling it throb within your pussy.

A mess, you were a mess. Small little marks covering your body. You were barely hanging onto Theo as he mercilessly pounded into your limp body, not holding back. “I’m going to fill up that juicy little cunt-fill it with my seed” his voice held that domineering tone that seemed to never stray away, Theodore thrusted inside of you a few more times before jolting himself against your body. Groaning through his gritted teeth as his seed exploded inside of you. Feeling the warmth of it spread and drip out the sides of his dick.

His length slipped out of you with ease, his sticky cum slowly dripping between your thighs before he shifted you over in his arms to carry you bridal style. He had worn you out and it was evident by your body's reaction. He stroked your hair, brushing it out of your face while he walked you two to a nearby bathroom. “Fully mine…You are fully mine now. Marked up by me…filled by my seed. Mine.” He whispered but those once cold eyes seemed to soften as he fixated his gaze on yours.

Theo wanted to care for you now, making sure you were alright. But at those words you couldn’t help but lazily smile, hearing the sound of water pebbling before he helped you into the marble walk-in shower. “Am I?” You teased slowly as you felt the hot water bead down your body, even tired, showing that bratty side that Theo oh so adored. He chuckled, grabbing some soap as he helped clean you up. Carefully tracing his hands around your entire body, taking his time to not miss a single section and to also provide you with relaxation. “Yes, ereditiera….You are.”

Perhaps you had been taken, kidnapped against your will….but slowly you were starting to see Theodore Nott in a new light. He had a softness to him. A yearning to protect you, to please you, to be with you. For now, he may have taken you sexually, giving you a desire for new things you couldn't even fathom before, but…soon enough he would also take your heart.

I had to do mafia!theo🖤 I hope my smut sluts enjoyed💋

Requests are open!🌙

Divider pinned in my master list

[aaagustd]

make it cute | jjk (m)

title: make it cute pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp, 18+ summary: if jungkook loans someone money, he expects to be paid with just that. but tonight, he just might make an exception. wc: 1.8k warnings: infidelity, swearing, mentions ransoms and everything that comes with that (threats, m*rder, etc), pictures??, consensual g*n play (more like oral but yeah), sloppy bl*wjob/deep throating, consent bc it's sexy, pet names, degradation, m*sturbation, facial c*m shot, dirty talk, slight power play dynamics, Dom/sub themes, obedience kink, hair pulling, face f*cking, that should be all release date: september 21st, 2024; 10:18pm est

note: reposting this baby. it’s from the old aaagustd account. i hope y’all enjoy the new version. divider credit.

check out my taglists here.

"That’s it. Keep going until I tell you to stop."

Jungkook can feel the material of his pants stretching to accommodate the growing boner pressing against the fabric. One wrong jerk of his hips, and he fears the measly button and zipper securing his trousers will go flying across his lavishly decored master bedroom.

He’s done some sick shit in his life, but this. This was your idea.

If only he could hear how you begged for it.

"Damn, baby, You are dead-ass enjoying this, aren't you?"

You don’t have to respond, but you do. "M-Mhm," you exhale in a needy moan as your throat engulfs the barrel of his gun.

There’s no way you can deny what is visibly present in both your eyes. 

The way your middle finger teases your soaked cunt. Your erected nipples leave two perfectly sculpted peaks that he can see through your sheer top.

He can't lie; he’s impressed and turned on by the sight. 

However, the reason you’re on your knees on his bedroom floor isn’t because he had a taste for a bored housewife. Your darling husband owes him a lot of money, and he will pay it if he wants his little trophy home by dinner.

Otherwise, Jungkook will gladly keep you—if you can behave.

With an ass like yours, Jungkook wouldn't let you out of his sight. Your place would be right on his lap, no matter the time or the place.

You have to keep a tight leash on this kind of pussy. The man’s an idiot. 

A woman as beautiful as you begging to be fucked? He’s not a nice guy, but how could he not show pity?

Jungkook can only stand there and imagine how your plump lips would look wrapped around his dick. The thought of it has him twitching inside his boxers.

As if you are reading his mind, your sticky digits abandon your wet panties and you place them on his designer-covered crotch. A sharp hiss pushes through his clenched teeth, biting back a slew of insults that could imply that he’s angry. Not in the slightest, he was just shaken by the sensitivity.

Staring into the desperation lingering deep in your irises, Jungkook knows what you’re asking for. Your mouth is filled to the brim, but you’re still begging for more.

Jungkook isn’t a gentleman, but he’s mindful of his strength when he grips your hair, snatching you away from his gun. He should have been cautious of your teeth, but you won’t need them anyway for what you’re about to do.

“Hey!” He watches your swollen lips part as you suddenly take in a large breath of air. Your lungs struggle to accommodate the pressure, leaving you coughing and choking for several seconds. The sound nearly drowns out his voice. “Look at me, dollface!”

Jungkook stares into your watery blown-out eyes, holding an intense gaze to make sure you understand him clearly. He realizes then that he has a problem on his hands.

Sexy and obedient. Fuck.

"Doll, you can get up if you want. I just want my money-"

"Fuck my throat."

Jungkook almost shudders when he hears your sweet voice. The lust hidden within that raspy tone is intoxicating.

"What?" he asks.

He heard you, though. Jungkook never misses a beat, but he’s just—stunned.

Clearing your throat, you repeat your request without an ounce of shame.

"My throat. Shove it down my throat, please."

Please.

You didn't have to add that last part. He was already preparing to take his dick out.

"Well, shit," he curses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

Jungkook quickly places his gun on the dresser behind him and unbuckles his belt. He steals glances at you waiting patiently on your knees—like a good little slut. 

It’s goddamn shame how you have him fidgeting like a virgin.

Once his pants are loosened enough to slip a hand in and pull down his boxers, his cock springs out and introduces itself. Your reaction leaves a prideful smirk spreading across his face. Whatever you were expecting he knows that has been exceeded.

"Bit off more than you can chew, huh?"

You appear to be offended by his assumption. At least that’s what your expression reads. "Not at all," you reply, straightening your posture to align with his midsection. "May I?"

With Jungkook’s permission, you make contact with his length by grasping it gently in your smooth hand. Your fingers wrap around his girth as your eyes size him up.

Stroking him lazily in your warm palm, you admire his protruding veins that run along his length. You pause at the reddened tip, tapping the pool of precum that has developed at his slit. Your tongue licks your lips as if you’re sitting before a feast.

He understands it’s probably been forever since you’ve been in the presence of someone his size, but he’s impatient. You’ll have to do this another time.

"Don't fuck around, alright? I still got a bullet with your name on it, dollface."

You heed his warning and move closer, determining the best method of swallowing him whole.

"Sorry," you say in a whisper.

Those manners of yours will take you places; if you play your cards right.

"It’s no sweat, beautiful. Just keep going."

It's probably the first time he's said something as sincere; but honestly, he's just trying to get gobbled up before he cums all over his freshly waxed floors. His men are probably wondering what the hell is taking so long. For all they know, you’re using his bathroom to clean yourself up from the bumpy ride you had in the trunk of their car.

Without warning, Jungkook’s dick is sucked into your heavenly mouth. The warm and wetness invite him in without hesitation, comforting his throbbing length like a compress. He struggles to maintain his composure.

He isn't sure if he should allow you to take over because he cannot move. He couldn’t thrust if he wanted to. He’s mentally and physically stuck. The way you're slurping him up…he might not even be able to walk after this.

"Easy," Jungkook warns, which causes you to raise an eyebrow.

Finally, a bit of cockiness breaks through the surface.

Jungkook has no choice but to pull himself together and find his bearings because he’d die before boosting your ego.

"Fine," he grunts. "I can play rough too."

His hands snake their way to the back of your head, granting him full control. Your dark eyes never tear away from his face as he harshly uses his grip to push your head into his swift thrusts. You start to gag and choke, dropping saliva all over his cock and the floor. Something that would usually piss him off—but tonight, he can’t find an ounce of care.

It's not like he has to clean it up.

"Goddamn. Who's training this throat, hm?" He buries himself in your throat, making your forehead collide with his pelvic area. "Can’t be your hubby?"

When he hears a gurgled moan, he pulls away and allows you to speak. Through labored pants, you huff out your response. It’s one he's sure you've never shared with your husband.

"I'll suck that bastard dry every night before I let him cum inside me."

Jungkook nods. "Smart woman."

However, your business has nothing to do with him. Right now, he needs your undivided attention.

"Come here," he demands.

Jungkook hopes you were able to take in a breath before he lets go of his self-control.

You two had a deal, and he will uphold his part as you are yours. You’ve complied and given him some of the best head he’s ever received. Now, it’s time for the real show.

It’s been a month since he loaned your spouse some money; it’s time to pay up. To remind him of that, he’ll send your husband some face shots of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook will get his payment—one way, or another.

"Fuck!"

His body tenses now that he’s hitting the back of your throat. No matter how deep he goes, you never run out of space. The sweat rolling down his face is ignored because he’s too focused on how good your mouth feels around him.

Your warmth has him hunched over and leaning on his toes, his mouth stuck in an O-shape as he comes dangerously close to release. As he moves in and out of your crevice, he catches a glimpse of your juicy cunt being filled with your fingers, your body squirming and seeking the same relief he's chasing.

Both of your moans fill the room as you reach the peak of your highs. Your eyes roll back as your body becomes stiff. Jungkook knows exactly what's going on with you, and as you're riding out the waves of your orgasm, he waits for the perfect moment to pull out and paint you with his seed.

The time comes when you're no longer able to control your breathing, and you're desperately looking for a source of air. It's not a second too soon because Jungkook cannot bear another deep dive into your wet hole.

He slips out and gives his boner a couple of quick strokes before ropes of his cum paint your pretty face. The sounds you make indicate just how pleased you are with the results of your messy blowjob.

…And messy it is indeed.

It's everywhere, but he kept his promise and didn't get any in your hair.

"Ready?" Jungkook asks, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah."

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds his camera. He positions it directly in front of your face. Your exhausted eyes and fucked out expression brings him some amusement. A contrast of how he felt before meeting you. 

"Is my hair okay?" you ask him, and this time he actually has to chuckle.

Since you've made his night a little better, he does a quick job smoothing down flyaways and kinks. 

Honestly, he didn't have to because you already look hot. Your hair all messy with his load dumped all over your face. All while adorned in an expensive diamond necklace your husband bought you—probably with his money.

Before he gets angry, he instructs you to look at the camera.

You pose provocatively as he takes a few pictures, giving your best doe-eyed pout.  When he’s done, he finally guides you to the bathroom. He allows you to use his shower or whatever else you’d need to clean up. 

Jungkook then lets you know that you may take as long as you need to freshen up while he sits on the bed to make this official.

He searches his contacts for the correct number. A mischievous grin slowly forms on his face as he taps the latest images in his camera roll, sending his debtor a little message to stir the pot.

03:14 am Sent: img.788, img.789....

03:14 am Sent: at the crib fucking your bitch. bring my bread and i might give her back.

He's lying. You’re staying right here.

Or…you can join your husband, in the cozy six-foot bed his men dug up for him in the woods.

[mypoisonedvine]

please read the warnings on every fic before clicking 'keep reading'! if you enjoy, please reblog and consider commenting. all my works are 18+ only.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Prison-tech is a scam - and a harbinger of your future

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Here's how the shitty technology adoption curve works: when you want to roll out a new, abusive technology, look for a group of vulnerable people whose complaints are roundly ignored and subject them to your bad idea. Sand the rough edges off on their bodies and lives. Normalize the technological abuse you seek to inflict.

Next: work your way up the privilege gradient. Maybe you start with prisoners, then work your way up to asylum seekers, parolees and mental patients. Then try it on kids and gig workers. Now, college students and blue collar workers. Climb that curve, bit by bit, until you've reached its apex and everyone is living with your shitty technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Prisoners, asylum seekers, drug addicts and other marginalized people are the involuntary early adopters of every form of disciplinary technology. They are the leading indicators of the ways that technology will be ruining your life in the future. They are the harbingers of all our technological doom.

Which brings me to Minnesota.

Minnesota is one of the first states make prison phone-calls free. This is a big deal, because prison phone-calls are a big business. Prisoners are literally a captive audience, and the telecommunications sector is populated by sociopaths, bred and trained to spot and exploit abusive monopoly opportunities. As states across America locked up more and more people for longer and longer terms, the cost of operating prisons skyrocketed, even as states slashed taxes on the rich and turned a blind eye to tax evasion.

This presented telco predators with an unbeatable opportunity: they approached state prison operators and offered them a bargain: "Let us take over the telephone service to your carceral facility and we will levy eye-watering per-minute charges on the most desperate people in the world. Their families – struggling with one breadwinner behind bars – will find the money to pay this ransom, and we'll split the profits with you, the cash-strapped, incarceration-happy state government."

This was the opening salvo, and it turned into a fantastic little money-spinner. Prison telco companies and state prison operators were the public-private partnership from hell. Prison-tech companies openly funneled money to state coffers in the form of kickbacks, even as they secretly bribed prison officials to let them gouge their inmates and inmates' families:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/02/mississippi-corrections-corruption-bribery-private-prison-hustle/

As digital technology got cheaper and prison-tech companies got greedier, the low end of the shitty tech adoption curve got a lot more crowded. Prison-tech companies started handing out "free" cheap Android tablets to prisoners, laying the groundwork for the next phase of the scam. Once prisoners had tablets, prisons could get rid of phones altogether and charge prisoners – and their families – even higher rates to place calls right to the prisoner's cell.

Then, prisons could end in-person visits and replace them with sub-skype, postage-stamp-sized videoconferencing, at rates even higher than the voice-call rates. Combine that with a ban on mailing letters to and from prisoners – replaced with a service that charged even higher rates to scan mail sent to prisoners, and then charged prisoners to download the scans – and prison-tech companies could claim to be at the vanguard of prison safety, ending the smuggling of dope-impregnated letters and other contraband into the prison system.

Prison-tech invented some wild shit, like the "digital stamp," a mainstay of industry giant Jpay, which requires prisoners to pay for "stamps" to send or receive a "page" of email. If you're keeping score, you've realized that this is a system where prisoners and their families have to pay for calls, "in-person" visits, handwritten letters, and email.

It goes on: prisons shuttered their libraries and replaced them with ebook stores that charged 2-4 times the prices you'd pay for books on the outside. Prisoners were sold digital music at 200-300% markups relative to, say, iTunes.

Remember, these are prisoners: locked up for years or decades, decades during which their families scraped by with a breadwinner behind bars. Prisoners can earn money, sure – as much as $0.89/hour, doing forced labor for companies that contract with prisons for their workforce:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/

Of course, there's the odd chance for prisoners to make really big bucks – $2-5/day. All they have to do is "volunteer" to fight raging wildfires:

https://www.hcn.org/articles/climate-desk-wildfire-california-incarcerated-firefighters-face-dangerous-work-low-pay-and-covid19/

So those $3 digital music tracks are being bought by people earning as little as $0.10/hour. Which makes it especially galling when prisons change prison-tech suppliers, whereupon all that digital music is deleted, wiping prisoners' media collection out – forever (literally, for prisoners serving life terms):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

Let's recap: America goes on a prison rampage, locking up ever-larger numbers of people for ever-longer sentences. Once inside, prisoners had their access to friends and family rationed, along with access to books, music, education and communities outside. This is very bad for prisoners – strong ties to people outside is closely tied to successful reentry – but it's great for state budgets, and for wardens, thanks to kickbacks:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2021/12/21/family_contact/

Back to Minnesota: when Minnesota became the fourth state in the USA where the state, not prisoners, would pay for prison calls, it seemed like they were finally breaking the vicious cycle in which every dollar ripped off of prisoners' family paid 40 cents to the state treasury:

https://www.kaaltv.com/news/no-cost-phone-calls-for-those-incarcerated-in-minnesota/

But – as Katya Schwenk writes for The Lever – what happened next is "a case study in how prison communication companies and their private equity owners have managed to preserve their symbiotic relationship with state corrections agencies despite reforms — at the major expense of incarcerated people and their families":

https://www.levernews.com/wall-streets-new-prison-scam/

Immediately after the state ended the ransoming of prisoners' phone calls, the private-equity backed prison-tech companies that had dug their mouth-parts into the state's prison jacked up the price of all their other digital services. For example, the price of a digital song in a Minnesota prison just jumped from $1.99 to $2.36 (for prisoners earning as little as $0.25/hour).

As Paul Wright from the Human Rights Defense Center told Schwenk, "The ideal world for the private equity owners of these companies is every prisoner has one of their tablets, and every one of those tablets is hooked up to the bank account of someone outside of prison that they can just drain."

The state's new prison-tech supplier promises to double the amount of kickbacks it pays the state each year, thanks to an aggressive expansion into games, money transfers, and other "services." The perverse incentive isn't hard to spot: the more these prison-tech companies charge, the more kickbacks they pay to the prisons.

The primary prison-tech company for Minnesota's prisons is Viapath (nee Global Tel Link), which pioneered price-gouging on in-prison phone calls. Viapath has spent the past two decades being bought and sold by different private equity firms: Goldman Sachs, Veritas Capital, and now the $46b/year American Securities.

Viapath competes with another private equity-backed prison-tech giant: Aventiv (Securus, Jpay), owned by Platinum Equity. Together, Viapath and Aventiv control 90% of the prison-tech market. These companies have a rap-sheet as long as your arm: bribing wardens, stealing from prisoners and their families, and recording prisoner-attorney calls. But these are the kinds of crimes the state punishes with fines and settlements – not by terminating its contracts with these predators.

These companies continue to flout the law. Minnesota's new free-calls system bans prison-tech companies from paying kickbacks to prisons and prison-officials for telcoms services, so the prison-tech companies have rebranded ebooks, music, and money-transfers as non-communications products, and the kickbacks are bigger than ever.

This is the bottom end of the shitty technology adoption curve. Long before Ubisoft started deleting games that you'd bought a "perpetual license" for, prisoners were having their media ganked by an uncaring corporation that knew it was untouchable:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

Revoking your media, charging by the byte for messaging, confiscating things in the name of security and then selling them back to you – these are all tactics that were developed in the prison system, refined, normalized, and then worked up the privilege gradient. Prisoners are living in your technology future. It's just not evenly distributed – yet.

As it happens, prison-tech is at the heart of my next novel, The Bezzle, which comes out on Feb 20. This is a followup to last year's bestselling Red Team Blues, which introduced the world to Marty Hench, a two-fisted, hard-bitten, high-tech forensic accountant who's spent 40 years busting Silicon Valley finance scams:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

In The Bezzle, we travel with Marty back to the mid 2000s (Hench is a kind of tech-scam Zelig and every book is a standalone tale of high-tech ripoffs from a different time and place). Marty's trying to help his old pal Scott Warms, a once-high-flying founder who's fallen prey to California's three-strikes law and is now facing decades in a state pen. As bad as things are, they get worse when the prison starts handing out "free" tablet and closing down the visitation room, the library, and the payphones.

This is an entry to the thing I love most about the Hench novels: the opportunity to turn all this dry, financial skullduggery into high-intensity, high-stakes technothriller plot. For me, Marty Hench is a tool for flensing the scam economy of all its layers of respectability bullshit and exposing the rot at the core.

It's not a coincidence that I've got a book coming out in a week that's about something that's in the news right now. I didn't "predict" this current turn – I observed it. The world comes at you fast and technology news flutters past before you can register it. Luckily, I have a method for capturing this stuff as it happens:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Writing about tech issues that are long-simmering but still in the periphery is a technique I call "predicting the present." It's the technique I used when I wrote Little Brother, about out-of-control state surveillance of the internet. When Snowden revealed the extent of NSA spying in 2013, people acted as though I'd "predicted" the Snowden revelations:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-writing-radicalized-young-hackers-now-he-wants-to-redeem-them/

But Little Brother and Snowden's own heroic decision have a common origin: the brave whistleblower Mark Klein, who walked into EFF's offices in 2006 and revealed that he'd been ordered by his boss at AT&T to install a beam-splitter into the main fiber trunk so that the NSA could illegally wiretap the entire internet:

https://www.eff.org/document/public-unredacted-klein-declaration

Mark Klein inspired me to write Little Brother – but despite national press attention, the Klein revelations didn't put a stop to NSA spying. The NSA was still conducting its lawless surveillance campaign in 2013, when Snowden, disgusted with NSA leadership for lying to Congress under oath, decided to blow the whistle again:

https://apnews.com/article/business-33a88feb083ea35515de3c73e3d854ad

The assumption that let the NSA get away with mass surveillance was that it would only be weaponized against the people at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve: brown people, mostly in other countries. The Snowden revelations made it clear that these were just the beginning, and sure enough, more than a decade later, we have data-brokers sucking up billions in cop kickbacks to enable warrantless surveillance, while virtually following people to abortion clinics, churches, and protests. Mass surveillance is chugging its way up the shitty tech adoption curve with no sign of stopping.

Like Little Brother, The Bezzle is intended as a kind of virtual flythrough of what life is like further down on that curve – a way for readers who have too much agency to be in the crosshairs of a company like Viapath or Avently right now to wake up before that kind of technology comes for them, and to inspire them to take up the cause of the people further down the curve who are mired in it.

The Bezzle is an intense book, but it's also a very fun story – just like Little Brother. It's a book that lays bare the internal technical workings of so many scams, from multi-level marketing to real-estate investment trusts, from music royalty theft to prison-tech, in the course of an ice-cold revenge plot that keeps twisting to the very last page.

It'll drop in six days. I hope you'll check it out:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

[coryosbaby]

Can you give me something with barry from obx x innocent!reader and she's like rafe's little Sister and he like tells rafe that she needs to stay with him until he gets ALL his money plsss girls I'm deprived of my word porn 😫 ( Add some smut pleaseeeeeeee )

Honey <🧡 >

Barry (Outer Banks)/reader

Warning: slight dubcon, kidnapping, blackmail, mention of guns and drug use (reader gets high), slight age gap? But it’s not really important + the reader is of age // forced oral (m receiving), throatfucking, fingering, the word ‘bitch’ a lot, pussy slapping, p n v, dumbification, loss of virginity, sir kink, sub! Reader, dom! Barry

“Please let me go!”

Your voice is desperate, as Barry shoves you inside of his home. You almost trip over your Mary Jane platforms when your foot hits a step wrong, but Barry catches you with one of his strong arms and pulls you up.

“You know a deal’s a deal, sweet thing’.”

His voice has a slight southern drawl, and you squeak when he pushes you down onto the couch. “Now stay your ass right there.”

You don’t even know how you got into this situation. One minute you’re having drinks with a few friends from your private school, and then the next minute you’re getting dragged away by your brother’s drug dealer. You don’t know exactly what he means by deal. You had never made one with him.

You two had spoken a few times when he spent his time at the Cameron residence when everyone in your family besides you and Rafe were gone. Rafe, being the untrustworthy shit that he is, surprisingly doesn’t despise you like he does your other siblings. In fact, you’ve become his favorite and most important one.

But clearly not important enough, since he’s probably got you involved in his cocaine dealing stuff.

“Did Rafe…” you watch as Barry rummages around in his kitchen cabinets, clearly paying no mind as you speak. “Did Rafe make a deal with you? Or something? I-I have money, I have lot of it—“

“Thirty thousand?”

The number makes your eyebrows raise in surprise. Thirty thousand dollars.. for coke? A“few lines”, as Rafe had called it. Yeah right.

“I-I don’t—“

“Well until then, I’d advise you to keep that stupid little mouth shut.”

His demand scares you, a bit. In fact, this whole situation does. Barry had always been nice to you. Maybe a bit too nice, if anyone from outside the two of you saw the situation (Rafe certainly did). But regardless, you don’t know what’s going to happen if your brother doesn’t get that money.

Barry seems to finally find what he’s looking for inside a wooden drawer. When he pulls it out, it’s a gun.

Bile rises in your throat when you see the weapon, the safety off and, you assume, packed with bullets. He throws it down onto the table in front of you.

“See that?” He asks. You nod heavily, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Yes sir.”

You say it dumbly. You don’t know what else to say. Barry’s grin is wide when the words leave your lips.

“You try to run,” Barry starts. His tone shouldn’t be so tantalizing, but it is. “And I’ll use it. So don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

You nod, numb with fear. Barry picks up the gun and moves around the table to sit beside you. He’s exponentially close, his shoulder touching yours as he leans back against the fabric of the couch.

You don’t know what to do, really. What exactly are you supposed to do when your brother’s drug dealer is holding you for ransom? But you play with the hem of your skirt as Barry reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a bag of shiny white powder.

Your face scrunches up and you shiver. He uses his fingers to make a sloppy trail of cocaine on the hilt of the gun. You expect him to do the line he had created, but instead he just shrugs and stares at you for a moment with a glazed look.

“Why don’t you take some?“

You don’t think it’s a request. Your bottom lip catches in between your teeth. You sniffle.

“I don’t want to.”

“Cmon, now,” his tone is like honey but you can hear the threat. “Be a good girl.”

You look down at the drug, stark white against the metal of the shiny weapon and back to him, but you figure you have no choice. You just hope and pray that the addict gene didn’t make its way to you like it did Rafe as you press your nose against the gun. It’s right over Barry’s lap; if you weren’t so plagued with innocence, you would notice how close your face is to his aching prick as you peer over his lap. You jump when you feel the man’s hands twist themselves in your hair.

“Atta girl.”

The drug isn’t something you’re used to. You’re definitely not the type to drink, let alone do coke; but snorting it doesn’t seem as hard as you expected. Your brain is a little fuzzy once you lift your head up.

Barry puts the gun down on the table, and pours some more coke onto the glass in front of him. He snorts up a line, and lets out a low groan. And then he moves back and his hands move to your neck. He twists your strands of hair with two long fingers.

“You’re a pretty little thing, you know that?”

You flush. All the while your high begins to kick in, and you exhale shakily. Your thighs clench together, and you don’t really understand why. “T-Thank you..”

Barry chuckles. His lips are really close to your ear and you notice that he smells really nice. It’s making you a bit dizzy.

“Such good manners for such a good girl.” He praises. You gulp, the feeling of his hand suddenly on your leg making you jump. The man notices, and frowns. “Cmon now, sweetness. I don’t bite.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You squeak out. He grins, his fingers inching up higher to ghost over the inner part of your thighs.

“Think we can keep ourselves a little busy before your brother gets here, don’t you think?”

You nod, dumbly, as his fingers ghost over your Cherry print panties underneath your skirt. It’s a new sensation; you’ve never been touched like this. You’ve heard it’s what people that are married do, people that love and care for each other. You don’t think this is how you’re supposed to do it.

“W-Wait, Barry—“

But it’s too late now, because his fingers are rubbing your clit in slow, soft circles. You let out a tiny moan, your legs automatically parting against your own will. You can feel an ache bubbling up in your core, your little button starting to throb.

“You’re so wet, goddamn.”

It comes out low and throaty, and when you look down at Barry’s hand you can see that he’s palming his cock through his basketball shorts. You don’t know why, exactly, but your mouth begins to water as you watch the outline of him through the fabric.

“W-Wet?”

Barry breathes out a laugh at your innocence, giving a teasing flick to the bud by thumping it with his thumb and forefinger. You squirm, a small noise of pleasure rippling out of you.

“You’re cunt, darlin’.” He says. “It’s wet. Happens when you start thinking about dirty things.”

You frown as your wetness drips on his hand. “‘M not… ‘m not dirty! I swear!”

“I think you’re lyin’ to me… I think you are.“ His fingertip teasingly ghosts over your hole. “— but that’s okay. I like dirty girls.”

His middle finger sinks inside you to the hilt. You gasp, the sensation making your hips lift off the couch when he curls it. You moan, breathy.

“That— that feels good..”

“I know, angel. And you’re gonna take another one for me, aren’t ya?”

“I-“ you hesitate, but another swipe against your clit with Barry’s thumb has you keening against the couch. “Yeah! Yes, yes, anything, I’ll take anything!”

His forefinger slips in, next. It’s tight fit, but nothing you can’t handle. And when Barry puts you into a chokehold with one of his strong arms, he drags your body into his lap. His bulge hits your ass and you let out a mewl, his fingers never leaving you. His pace increases, his other hand moving from your throat to your skirt. He lifts it up and pulls your underwear to the side so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you.

“These panties are so cute,” he whispers into your ear. Your eyes roll back when your sopping wet cunt begins to make harsh gushing noises. “It’s too bad they’re getting ruined, huh?”

You nod, not a single thought left in your hazy brain. Your ruffle socked feet accidentally kick the table from the pleasure making your body spasm. You barely even acknowledge it, but Barry’s unused arm goes to your neck again and he holds down on each side of your throat.

“Don’t break my shit, bitch,” he growls. “You and your brother owe me enough already.”

“I-I’m sorry!” It comes out choked, scared, and dripping of pleasure all at once. His thumb moves to your clit again. You can feel something inside you building up, a wad of tension threatening to release. Your brows furrow in confusion and you become worried. What if Barry gets mad at you for feeling this way?

“S-Sir—“ your hole throbs mercilessly, face scrunched up. “Barry— think ‘m gonna.. gonna pee! S-Stop!”

“No you’re not, baby,” He chuckles. “You’re gonna cum— only good girls cum. So wet my fuckin shorts, dollface.”

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, all of your limbs seizing up with tension. Your mind becomes foggy, and you scream as you begin to squirt all over your panties and onto Barry’s thighs.

“That’s it, honey. Shit, look at you…”

You sob, overwhelmed from all the sensation flooding your psyche. You stay against Barry, the warmth of his body bringing you comfort as your eyes droop. But you know you can’t sleep yet; you won’t allow yourself to.

Barry presses a kiss to your neck, begins gesturing for you to get up. You move up on shaky legs. And as bad as it is, you frown when his body leaves yours.

“D-Did I do something wrong, sir?”

He doesn’t reply; he simply presses his lips to yours, harsh and full of want. His strong arms go around your waist and his fingers dance along the hem of your shirt. He moves the fabric up, and up, until your bra is the only thing left on your upper half. You let him do it.

He palms your breasts and you gasp at the sensation. You’ve always been a bit sensitive there.

“Take this off,” he says, gesturing to the cups holding your tits in place. You obey, shyly unclipping your bra and revealing your puffy nipples to him. His mouth goes down to suckle one of the buds into his mouth. He hums around it, scrapes his teeth against the sensitive nerves and then begins unzipping your skirt.

“Any guy ever touched you?” He asks, as your soaked panties become the only thing covering your body. You’re incredibly shy, now.

“No— no one has.”

“Good.” And then he’s taking your panties off, sliding them down your legs and leaving you completely in the nude. It’s invading, incredibly so, but your pussy begins to ache for another orgasm again.

“Sit back down.” Barry demands.

You obey and he sits down next to you. The material of the couch is cold against your skin as he grabs your hair and pulls you towards his body with a rough hand. You squirm, trying to find a position that makes you comfortable, and settling with facing him on your knees. He loosens the drawstring of his shorts as he looks down at you with lust glittering in his eyes. You aren’t sure where to put your hands, so you decide to rest one on Barry’s thigh and the other on the couch. He reaches into his now loosened shorts and pulls out his cock.

You gawk, the sight of a dick being an unfamiliar image to you. He’s girthy, perfectly thick and a bit long. Precum pearls at the head of him as he watches your pleading eyes. He grabs your hair, firm.

You gasp when he shoves your face against him. Your ass is up in the air now, your tits pressed flush against his thigh. His tip is wet against your cheek, smearing precum all over your nose and underneath your eyes.

“Feel that?” He purrs.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah..” your hand reaches to touch it, curiosity peaking your interest. “It’s— its really pretty.”

“Yeah?” He gathers a string of his pre onto his finger, brings it up to your face and rubs it teasingly against the opening of your lips while you busy yourself with playing with the base of him. “Get a taste, baby.”

Your face turns a deep cherry red as you shyly stick your tongue out. His arousal coats your tongue, and as disgusting as you feel you can’t help but love the taste of him.

“‘S good,” you murmur. “I— I wan’ more of it.”

“I bet you want my cum all inside, don’t you?”

Your bottom lip turns down and you cutely raise your eyebrows together. “What’s cum? You keep saying that…”

He laughs, genuinely laughs. Your stupidity is amusing to him.

“Dressing in all those short little skirts and lookin’ at me with those pouty lips and you still don’t understand what I’m saying? You really are dumb.”

You shake your head, the words “I’m not dumb” falling from your lips over and over as you lean down and lick up some more of his pre to satiate yourself. Barry’s tongue runs along his bottom lip as he watches you, a large hand going down to stroke your hair out of your face.

“Cum is the stuff that comes out when you get that really good feelin’. “ he explains. “You came earlier, so I bet that little pussy’s coated in it right now.”

You bite your lip, kitten licking his cock once more and then pulling back.

“I wanna make you cum.”

He grabs your hair and pulls you back down. “I know.”

You whine, and then he’s groaning and bucking his dripping length against your lips.

“God, I know that mouth is—“ he doesn’t even hesitate to find the opening of your mouth and slip his tip inside. The taste is odd to you, but not inherently unpleasant. He’s musky and you can smell the scent of his arousal radiating off of him. “—so goddamn good. Fuck yeah, that’s it.”

You moan around him, your mouth swallowing him up more as the weight of his aching prick makes you more and more turned on. You down him as much as you can, his girth making the corners of your glossed lips burn.

“Knew a little kook girl like you would be good at taking dick,” Barry drawls. His hips thrust against your intensely, heavy balls slapping against your chin and spit leaking down them from your gaping mouth. “Cock taste good, baby? Huh?”

The choked moan and the string of drool pooling out of your mouth and down your neck tells him all he needs to know. He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet it does. Drooling little bitch.”

You know he’s right. And as bad as it is, the humiliation that he’s bestowing upon you is pleasurable. Your wetness is dripping down your thighs at his words.

You moan, moving his hands off your head so you can move off of his cock and begin suckling his balls. He moans loud and his fingernails dig back into your scalp again. You’re desperate, desperate to feel his skin and his smell and his taste, and you’re whining while you lick his heavy sack with hard strokes of your tongue.

“God, such a sweet fuckin’ slut. You’re doin’ so good.”

You whimper, downing his cock again and gurgling around him. Your pussy is soaked, and you try to move it around on the material of the couch to get friction. Barry grins when he sees your desperation.

“Needa cum?”

You pull off of him with a pop, eyes looking up at him pleadingly. “Yes sir.”

His fingers touch your swollen clit. Teasingly, just to see you squirm as he shoves his cock in your mouth again. And when he begins to rub harshly, you begin to buck your hips against him. Your second orgasm is already nearing, and when it happens you shake and choke around his length. He gives your pussy a light slap and yanks you off of him. Your mascara is smeared, lipstick staining the edges of your mouth and your hair stuck to your forehead in messy strands. Barry pulls you up to give you another kiss. And then he pulls you onto his lap again.

And in the midst of your lips on his, you hear his phone ring.

It’s on the nightstand next to the couch. An easy reach for him, and as he grabs the phone you see the words ‘COUNTRY CLUB’ flash across the screen in bold white letters.

Your eyes widen, shaking your head as Barry chuckles out, “damn, sweetness. It’s your brother.”

“Please… d-don’t let him—“ you cry, exasperated, as Barry presses his bare cock to your entrance. “Don’t let him know what I did— please! He’ll be so mad at me…”

The older man grins as he holds you down onto his cock; not quite in just yet, but it makes you quiver thinking about him stretching you out. He mocks you with a bullying tone.

“Aww, don’t worry honey.” He coos. “I won’t tell your big brother you’ve been a bad girl. Just let me pick up this call.”

Relief almost washes over you, if it wasn’t for the fact that Barry is still pressed flush against you. It’s making it hard for you to concentrate. He presses the green button, signaling that he’s answered the call.

“Where is she?”

Rafe’s voice sounds on the other line, and he’s extremely pissed.

“Perfectly fine, country club. In fact, I think she’s having the time of her life right now” Barry quips, as if you’re not dripping down his cock with a look of shame on your face. “I just need my money..”

He pauses, watching as your eyes furrow closed and you begin to move against him. You’re lost in your own pleasure now. You can’t help it. The sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit has you clenching and aching to release. You bury your face in his neck, trying to contain your whimpers.

“Look, man,” Rafe starts. He doesn’t like the way those words spewed from Barry’s lips. It makes him uneasy.

“I’ll— I’ll get your money, okay? Just— promise me you won’t hurt her. Please.”

“Oh,” Barry lets out a laugh. “We’re far from that.”

He lifts your hips with one of his hands. His tip begins to probe your entrance. You gasp as your walls sink down on him.

“In fact, I think I can drown out your little debt and set you up for another month.”

[stellarfics]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 [𝐜𝐡𝐩. 1]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark!ransom drysdale x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, rape/non-con, drugging/date-raping, somnophilia, dom/sub undertones, degrading, oral sex (male receiving), virginity kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, choking, size difference, heavy misogyny, heavy angst, extreme physical violence (mentions of blood), extremely dark themes, 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you let your friends drag you out for a night, which turns into a living nightmare because of one person; Ransom Drysdale.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, it’s almost as if a stranger is gazing back at you. You look—different, good. You’re living and out of body experience, wearing the unusual skimpy outfit you’ve got on; a silk red dress hugging at your curves, makeup done to perfection, hair pinned up in a soft, angelic, loose bun.

You slowly drag your tongue along your bottom lip, feeling the buttery, slick texture of the red gloss laying across your lip, the taste of the plain, sticky substance odd on your tastebuds. Your tiny dorm echoes with a sharp rap against the rattling wood door, a signal that Daisy is waiting outside.

You sigh and give yourself one last glance as you grab your clutch, stopping at the door, eyeing your ratted-down coat, the left sleeve practically falling off at the shoulder, the seams frayed to no revival. You open your door and see the redhead beaming at you.

“Oh my god! You look amazing! Oh, I knew red would be your color.”

You blush at the reminder of the embarrassing conversation the pair of you had in a bustling, expensive store at the Boulevard Mall the week before. You swear you almost died when you saw the price tag.

“Ah, forget about it, I’ll put it on Daddy’s credit card. He won’t mind.” Daisy would say, twirling her hair around, without a care in the world.

To say she’d been born spoon-fed off a silver platter would be an understatement. Her parents were among the most wealthy in the country, god, maybe even the world.

They rubbed elbows with the rich, neck high in gold coins. You didn’t need her to tell you about her wealth, her Rolls Royce spoke for her, a shimmering silver-plated car her father had bought her at the beginning of the semester. You guess her Audi wasn’t cutting it.

You are practically tugged down to the elevator, all the way to her car. She opens the door and shoves you in, squealing in delight as she floors it to the club.

You weren’t raised in a mansion on Beacon Hill, hell you weren’t even the occasional litter on the sidewalks. You were a quiet, city girl, grinding your elbows in soap, helping your mother clean houses since you were five.

The whole nine yards were already planned out in your head since you were 10. You’d focus on your studies, push your way to the top, building up from scraps, from scratch.

But life isn’t like a dream. It never is.

The pair of you pull up to the club, the valet taking the keys from Daisy’s manicured hand. She links elbows with you, laughing like she’s already drunk, babbling about the off-fielder who’d won Crimson their last game. How, in her words, fucking massive his cock was. Swearing she almost died giving him head last week after the game.

The two of you push through the sweaty cluster of bodies and up to the bar. You hold Daisy up as she drunkenly orders a plate of shots. You sigh and drag your group to a table in the back corner.

They down the entire plate, leaving you a single shot. Your girls hook each other into their elbows and swing their hips into the crowd. You sigh and watch as the night unfolds. Two hours pass by in a flash and your single shot is slowly collecting water droplets over its glass in front of you.

You check your phone, the screen blinding you as it reads 1:28 am. You sigh and stand up, pushing your way through the swaying crowd. You make your way to Daisy, who’s practically going at it with some guy. 

You clear your throat and groan before you tap her on the shoulder. She swats your hand away before you try again. She turns around, heat in her eyes.

“What the fuck—oh, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” She asks, pushing the guy away from her. He grabs at her hips and tries to reel her back to him.

She shoves him away and grabs your wrist, pulling you to the back of the club, and into the bustling bathroom. The door swings open and it’s literal hell; you’re smacked in the face with the greatest cloud of weed mixed with vape smoke you’d ever imagined.

You cough and turn to the counter, girls and doing lines, snorting them through a wrinkled five-dollar bill. You stare for too long, if the way they turn to you with disgusted eyes says anything.

Daisy takes you into a stall, and pats your face with some powder, and fixes your lipstick.

“Maybe, I should go home…” You mumble as Daisy wipes excess lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“What? No. We just got here.”

“Daisy, this isn’t my thing.” You grimace and she sighs.

“Hey, the night isn’t totally ruined. You could still end up waking in someone’s bed.” She says in a sing-song voice.

“I hope it’s only my own.” You groan, rubbing at your forehead. You give Daisy the saddest, tired eyes you can muster and she sighs.

“Alright, we can go.” She says, nodding.

You shake your head. “Stay, you’ve got your floor partner out there waiting for you. I can make it home. I promise I’ll be okay.”

She nods and grabs your hand, dragging you out of the bathroom. “Be safe, this side of the city isn’t safe to be walking. I can set you up with an Uber.” 

“I’m okay. I promise, Daisy. I’ll see you in the morning.” You take her into a tight hug and she pats your hair down.

“I’m serious. Be safe.”

“Always.” You smile.

You sigh and walk out of the club, the Halloween chill has you shaking in your heels, wishing you’d brought your coat. You pull your phone out of your clutch and try the power button, only to find it dead. You think about going back into the club, groaning as you imagine pestering Daisy for a ride home.

Damn.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, spotting, from your peripheral vision, a group of men kicking around bottles at the end of the street. Conspiring against your prayers, whatever god lives above reels them towards you. They drunkenly try to sweet-talk you, reaching a hand out to grab the end of your dress.

Your heart thuds against your chest and your body heats up, anxiety rattling in your bones. Your hands shake against your thighs and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

It’s all to no avail.

“Are you all alone, honey?” One asks, most likely the ring leaders.

“No, a friend’s inside. She’s ordering us a cab.” You turn away from them, looking toward the club. A few frat boys come out, drunkenly laughing at themselves, and look you up and down.

You’re a slab of meat, a fresh sirloin steak, thrown in the middle of a street filled with strays, foaming at the mouth, claws digging into the gravel beneath you.

You find yourself slowly cornered into the street, before falling back on your palms. You find yourself being surrounded by both groups of men. The screech of tires being locked by breaks echoes through the night air, as you’re blinded by headlights. You turn your head to find yourself a foot away from the bumper of a car.

You swallow the thick lump in the bottom of your throat and move from the car.

The driver steps out, a silhouette, really—tall and broad, shoulders square, shoes shining as he stalks towards the front of the car. You drag your eyes up his body, catching the way his arms swell under the unearthly soft-looking material of a white, cable knit sweater, perfectly hidden by the overcoat he’s sporting.

You turn to the group of men, tails between their legs as they look at one another and scramble away. You’re left alone with the silhouette, he speaks to you, voice drowned by the whizzing cars and natural night noise.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice gruff and tired as he stalks closer to you.

You blink rapidly and quickly nod your head. You scramble onto your palms and shakily stand up. You move back a little as he simply stares at you.

“What were you doing out here alone?”

“I just—” You fix your dress, crossing your arms over yourself. “I was going home. This isn’t really my crowd.”

Ransom looks you up and down, and turns to the bar.

“Who took you there? It’s a scrub-hole.” He grunts, standing a little straighter.

“My…friend.”

“Some friend. Especially if she left you out here on your own.” He steps closer to you, staggering a little as the street lights finally shine upon him. The light scent of alcohol rolls with his words into the night air.

The yellow flickering lights illuminate him in a golden halo. It accentuates his broadness even more, creating the perfect shadows over his arms and chest; it paints him almost herculean.

Your eyes widen as he tilts his head a little, looking at your palm. You raise your hand up and look at the red filling the lines of your palm. You look at the ground and wipe off the blood and pavement residue off your hand.

“I’m Ransom, do you know your name?” He asks, looking at you, trying to see if you’re okay.

You just keep staring at him and he chuckles.

“Why don’t I take you home? Make sure you’re safe for the night?” He asks.

You look up at him, noticing just how much closer he’s gotten to you, and blink up at him from beneath your lashes. You feel your chest tightening as anxiety fills your veins.

“O-Okay.” You nod, taking Ransom’s offered hand and letting him lead you to his car. The hand on the small of your back burns through your dress. You feel his palm against your skin even when he lifts it, closing the door for you once you're settled.

He rounds the car, sitting in the driver's seat as he starts the car again. The engine revs to life as he slowly pulls forward, turning over to look at you. You simply stare at your heels and blink; the scenario slowly creeping up on you.

You turn to Ransom and look back out to the street. You watch as the car whizzes through the empty streets. Your eyes trail with street lights and dimmed buildings.

The car speeds into the merging lane of the highway—which goes to the opposite side of the city. You sit up a little, looking out towards the empty interstate.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to say I-I live at the dorms, the ones by the—”

“We’re going to my house.” He says, not even offering you a glance.

The prickling heat of anxiety bites at the back of your neck. You try to keep your composure as you look around at the slowly growing street.

He continues on the freeway, down till it becomes a one-lane road. It leads out onto a snow-covered street, which is lined with bare trees that break into a deep meadow.

The snow is illuminated a bright white as you grow closer to the house. The car's light shines upon a mansion—a literal mansion.

He circles into the driveway, parks the car, and steps out. He goes up to the door and unlocks it, stepping in. He leaves it open for you, not turning back to see if you walk in.

You swallow down your awe as you take a shaky step out of the car. You hear the click of your heels against the polished, marble steps of the house. Which looks like something out of a magazine, a Wright design come to life.

The windows go from roof to floor, illuminating the house with cool moonlight. The glass exterior is shimmering.

You gently push open the door and step inside, the warmth hitting you too quickly, burning your skin in contrast to the cold outside.

You take a deep breath and look around the foyer. It leads into the grand living room. A stone wall covers the foyer of the house. A large L-shaped couch covered in a disheveled blanket calls home there. A stunning fireplace has been left burning, and a small cartridge of graham crackers and marshmallows is left beside it.

It’s beautiful, breathtaking.

Ransom comes back, two glasses of scotch in his hands.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t really drink...” You say, waving a small hand in front of you.

“Now, that’s no way to treat someone who’s accommodating for you. Drink it.” He practically shoves the drink into your hands.

You look down at the glass and up at him.

“Drink it.”

You shiver under Ransom’s gaze and hesitantly take a sip. He nods and takes one from his own. He grabs your wrist and leads you back to the couch.

Sitting first and pulling you into his lap. You stiffen as you land over his thighs. He lays a hand between your own, close to your knee; drawing circles into your skin.

You aren’t sure what to do, frozen, stoic as you attempt to wrangle a thought. He seemingly reads your mind, humming softly, and brings a hand up to your hair.

He brushes it over your shoulder, playing with the ends. He looks at you with dark eyes and then turns to your cup.

“Drink.”

As if in a trance, you take the glass to your lips, slugging back a few drops. You hold it in your mouth, and let it burn your tongue before it slides down your throat and settles into your stomach.

He shakes his head and holds the glass for you.

“Such a silly little girl, take a little more.” He hums, voice laced with malice.

He takes your glass, tips it against your lips, and gently tips it back a little more. You groan and take the rest of the drink. You hold it in your mouth and whimper, squirming around.

“Swallow.”

You comply and take the burning liquid back; immediately coughing once you can get a deep breath of air.

He shushes you and pats your back a little, condescendingly cooing you. You cough and heave, attempting to stand up.

“No, no, hey, shh. It’s okay.” Ransom hums. “Breathe through your nose.”

He coaxes you through taking a deep breath. You follow his direction and hiccup on a breath. He nods you along and rubs a hand over your back.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

You end your coughing fit with a whine. You twist around in Ransom’s lap, face scrunched up in disgust. He simply chuckles, takes your glass, and sets it on the side table.

He rubs at your back and hums softly, looking at you. You whine and shake like a leaf in his lap. Ransom sighs and shushes you, petting your hair back.

“It’s alright, shh. Quiet now. You’re alright.” He shushes you.

You sniffle a little and he shushes you, brushing your hair a little more. You whimper and Ransom grabs your head, fingers drifting down to your chin.

“It’s okay, sweet thing.” He cooes, voice oddly soft and you whimper. He pets your hair back, looking at you. He holds your chin and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip.

“You’re so obedient, honey.” He mumbles, grinning softly.

Your stomach floors as your eyes widen like saucers. You feel your diaphragm quivering at the force of your muscles clenching against each other.

You swallow thickly, eyes flicking between Ransom’s and he tilts his head a little, feigning innocence. He catches the way you soften in his arms.

He nods and you sigh, melting in his arms. You feel your body go slack and Ransom drapes you over his arm. You whimper softly, eyes drooping as Ransom hums softly.

It’s a song you’ve known as a child, one your mother used to sing—as she’d tuck you into bed. You feel Ransom’s hand card through your curls, scratching lightly at your scalp.

You slump a little in his arms and Ransom just looks down at you. He knows what he brought you here for. He knows it’s just a matter of time before the sedative he mixed into your drink kicks in.

Only a few minutes before you’re pliable in his arms. At his will to do whatever he wants with you.

Only a few minutes that he can wait for.

He runs his fingers up the inside of your calf, following along the soft lines of your muscle. You lift your head, eyes unfocused as Ransom looks at you, eyes dark.

You move your leg from his hand, trying to scoot away from him. He shushes you, taking your cheek into his hand. He brushes his thumb over your skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He smiles, toothy and wide.

You blink a few times and Ransom brings you closer. Looking at your lips. You feel your heart thud in your chest, hear the echo in your ears; feel its heat under your skin as your cheeks burn.

“You’re so pretty.” Ransom says again, thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You can’t seem to swallow fast enough, recoil your legs to your chest, and curl into yourself. Ransom shushes you, bringing you closer to his chest.

“It’s just kissing, honey.” He says, crushing his lips to your own. You whimper and push a hand against his chest. His hard, rock-like, unmoving chest.

He takes your wrist, pinning it to your side, and kisses you; you grimace and squirm in his hold. Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper softly.

“Stop.” You squeak, voice barely above a whisper.

Ransom breaks away, taking in a deep breath before nuzzling against your neck. Running his fingers along the soft skin of your calf.

“Just kissing, sweetheart.” He says, burrowing his face in your neck; sucking and biting at the soft skin there.

You keen softly and scrunch your shoulder, pushing at his chest again. The action is futile. You lay there in his arms, shocked to feel his lips oddly soft against your own.

You whine and he pulls back, blue eyes opening and drowning you. You tentatively wipe at your lips and his lips curl up with a chuckle.

He looks at you like that for a while, with dark, heavy eyes. He runs his hand against your thigh and you whimper, shifting away from him.

“No. You can’t hide from me.” He says, voice hard like nails and he grabs your jaw in a rather tight grip. It makes your blood freeze.

The daunting size difference between the two of you. Even now, in his lap, you barely reach his chest. The size of his palm is well over encasing your entire face. The thickness of his arms—which are circled around you in an extremely tight fashion—are such a distinct size to your waist.

The absolute strength they hold makes you shake; knowing Ransom could very well, literally throw you across the room at his command.

Your eyes widen as you look over the shadow of Ransom’s palm. You push at his forearm and he only tightens his hold, pressing your cheeks against your teeth.

You whimper and he pulls back. He gentles his touch again, thumbing your cheek and you swallow, eyes swimming with fear.

You take a few shaky breaths and shoot your gaze between Ransom’s eyes. He leans up again, stealing another kiss from you. He grabs you and rolls you over; laying over your body on the couch.

You bring your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back a bit. He nudges your legs apart, fitting himself between your thighs.

“Wait—stop.”

“We’re just kissing.” He says, going back to your neck, nipping at the skin there.

You shake your head, pushing at him to move. You bring your feet against his stomach, nudging him back.

“Stop. Please.” You whimper, voice squeaky and uneven. Your vision begins to blur and you’re unsure if it's from the tears welling in your eyes or not.

He simply groans in your ear, laying flat against you; rutting his long-forgotten, massive, hard-on against you. You whimper and stiffen under him.

“Stop, please. Stop.” You beg, on the verge of tears.

“Just kissing.” He says, lifting his head up.

He kneels back, looking down at you with dark eyes. You cower further back into the couch, closing your legs and bringing your arms over your chest, covering yourself as much as you can. Ransom brings a hand between your thighs, pushing them apart.

You reach down for his hand, vision melting and arms becoming weak as you grab his forearm. He shushes you, petting your hair back and cupping your cheek.

“That’s it. Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Such an obedient girl.” He cooes, eyes dark and grinning like a devil.

Your eyes slip closed and you make a soft little noise in the back of your throat.

Ransom nearly feels guilty, taking a sweet thing like you this way. He knows he’ll hurt you, definitely more than you can take, judging solely on how small you are. He practically cages you against his body on the couch.

He sighs and stands up, hauling you over his shoulder, and walks through the first floor, up the stairs. He makes his way through the upstairs to his bedroom, laying you across the bed. He sighs and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

It makes your dress ride up over your thighs. He smirks and runs a hand along the inside of your thigh, finding the soft, squishy, skin there perfect. He hums and pulls his hand back, he pushes your dress over your thighs up to your stomach.

He smirks at the soft, red silk panties you wear. The way they hug you perfectly, he’s almost saddened when he tears them in half. You whine and bring your legs closed, he admires the way that, even when you’re drugged, you keep your modesty.

He shushes you, petting a hand along your hair, and stands again. He pulls your dress down your chest, baring your tits to him.

He groans at the way they jiggle; their weight feeling perfect in his hands. He thumbs your nipples, the pink flesh growing into a hardened bud that he tugs and teases, loving the soft sounds the movement pulls from your throat.

He grunts and brings his hand between your legs. He runs his fingers against the soft, moist skin there, he feels his chest swell with the predatorial pride that he’s made you wet.

He lifts his hand, raking his fingers against your skin to the point goosebumps rise on your thighs. He teasingly brushes his thumb against your clit, grinning at the way you twitch; closing your legs, trapping his hand again.

He rubs his thumb against your nub a little harder, pressing your thigh into the mattress. It’s what wakes you up.

You blink drowsiness from your eyes, looking around the room and feeling something at your thighs—between your thighs. You whimper and rise up on your elbows, blood freezing as you see Ransom standing between your legs. Your lips part and Ransom’s on you like a flash.

He pins you under him, one hand covering your mouth, the other holding your head to his palm.

“Don’t scream.” He says, voice sinister.

You whine as tears well in your eyes.

“Gonna be a good girl? Gonna be quiet for me?” He whispers, staring at you with intent eyes.

You hiccup beneath his hand and you squeeze your eyes shut. He slowly pulls back his hand, running his fingers over your hair.

“Such an obedient girl. If you're good for me, I’ll make it sweet for you. Okay?” He cooes, voice lined with poison.

You simply take in the little breath your lungs hold and he smirks. He runs his hand down your neck, over your side, brushing along your tit to cup its weight in his hand. He brushes his thumb against your nipple and squirm under him; face burning red.

You bite back a whine, veins in your neck straining with fear. He tweaks your bud between his fingers, tugging at your nipple and you cry out; squeezing your eyes shut and turning away from him.

Your hands come up for a moment, going to push at his shoulders before staying stoic in the air. He grabs your wrists, coils them in a single hand, and pins them above your head on the mattress.

“Keep them there, if they move, I’ll hit you.”

He brings his hand back to your tit, slapping it and smirking at the way it moves against your ribs. You whimper, turning your head into your own arm and covering your face.

“Don’t hide from me.” He growls, grabbing your jaw and twisting your head back to him.

Your eyes are squeezed shut and you’re shaking under him; your body is so tense, that your muscles are beginning to ache. Pain radiates off your body, skin goes cold. He taps his fingers against your cheek and you whine, flinching under his hand.

“Look at me. Look at me.”

You slowly open your eyes, tears run down your cheeks and fill your ears as your bottom lip quivers. He runs his hand down your side again, and you twist away from him. He tightens the grip on your jaw and shakes his head.

“Don’t move.”

He lets go of your jaw, snaking down your body, laying against your stomach. He leans down, pressing a single kiss to the center of your chest, before he turns his head and takes a nipple into his mouth.

You cry out, stomach and chest caving into the bed. You turn away from him, shooting your arms down, pushing at his head and he leans up, turning your head back to him only for him to strike his palm against your cheek.

Fast, sharp, and hard.

The noise of skin hitting skin echoes throughout the second floor of the house. You can’t hide the soft squeak that escapes your lips and you bite your lip, hiccuping softly as you stare up at him. Your vision is muddled by your tears as you see him go back down—you feel his lips around your tit, tongue pressing against your nipple.

You twist against him and he simply lays a hand over your stomach, pinning you to the bed. He sucks and bites at the skin of your chest, grunting as he ruts himself against your thigh.

The tears that have been beads now become full rivers. You hiccup as you try to subtly move away from him. He frees your tit with a soft wet ‘pop’ and sits over your thighs.

He looks down at you, eyes dark as he grabs your wrists, grips tight, and seethes.

“I said not to move.”

You take a shaky breath and nod, chest rising and falling far too fast for your heart to handle.

He grabs for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the bed with a soft thud. Your jaw goes a little slack as you stare up at his body; the one carved like a porcelain Greek god.

Eyes dark like unruly oceans, nose swooping down to a perfect tip, lips plump and soft, like luscious pillows, jaw strong and hard. His arms which are practically logs, veins running under their skin beautifully, the muscles flex and shadow against the light of the lamp on his bedside table.

They lead down to his chest, burly and hard, covered with a light spruce of hair over his pecs. It leads down to his abs, which are hard and have veins crawling up his sides, melting into his skin, his v-line is impeccable as it gives just that much before leaving the rest for imagination.

He looks down at you, cups your cheek, brushing away the tears that stray, and growls at the way you flinch from his palm.

He tangles his hand into the back of your head and brings you up to steal a kiss from your lips. It’s owning and hard, possessive and hot.

He swipes his tongue against your bottom lip and you gasp, lips parting. He licks into your mouth, you can taste the bourbon he’s had earlier on his tongue.

It makes you whimper and turn away from him, breaking the kiss.

You hiccup, squeezing your eyes shut, and await the impending blow he’s bound to lay on your cheek. Only it doesn’t come.

The sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room and your eyes crack open. You shoot up and move away from Ransom.

“No, no, please. You can’t.” You beg, voice cracking as you cower over yourself.

He pushes you back, grabbing your arms and pinning them at your side. You kick and push at his chest, scratching over his arms and he hisses.

“Stop! Stop fighting me!” He hits you with a blow to your ribs and you scream out, twisting against him.

You cry and cry, curling onto your side, in a ball. You shake your head and push him away as he tries to grab you.

“Please! Please!” You beg.

Ransom moves off the bed, grabs your ankle, and pulls you to the edge. You thrash against him, legs and arms flailing as you try to escape his grasp.

He grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back with enough force to give you whiplash. You cry out and scream as he covers your mouth with a hand.

“Shut up. Shut up!” He strikes your cheek again.

You push your hands against his chest and hiccup. He leans in close and growls, eyes dark and you whimper.

“Please, you can do anything—anything but…that.” You hiccup, tears muddling your vision.

Ransom looks at you and takes in your words. He takes in the way you look, afraid and shaking; a scared little girl and he lets out a soft breath.

“You’re a virgin.”

Your blood freezes and you stare at him, a deer in headlights. You look between his eyes and your bottom lip quivers.

You stare at him as he brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing your skin with his thumb.

“If you’re good, I’ll be gentle.”

“No, please. Please. Please!”

You cry out, your heartbeat kicking up as he moves off the bed. He pulls his belt free and kicks off his slacks, along with his briefs, grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging you over to him.

He pins you under him, holding your head up and smacking his cock against your cheek. You whimper and whine, turning away from him.

“Open your mouth.” He groans.

He pushes his cock against your lips and you cry out, thrashing against him. He pushes at the hinges of your jaw and your mouth falls open.

He pushes himself between your lips and you scrape your teeth against his cock.

“Open your mouth. Open your mouth!” He hisses. “Don’t fucking bite me or I’ll beat you dead.”

You spit up over it, coughing and pushing at his thighs. He groans, hand encasing your neck as he forces himself down your throat.

He grins at the way you cough and choke over his cock, slapping at his thighs. He pushes deeper, bringing your head up till your nose brushes against his sac.

You feel lightheaded at the pressure, ears ringing and you push at his thighs. He pulls back, groaning. You cough and rise up to your elbows, gasping for breath.

“That’s it. God your throat is tight. Feel so good around me.” He coos. “Your lips are so pretty around my cock.”

You cough and hiccup, trying to crawl away from him. Ransom simply grabs you by the hair, dragging you back to him. He grabs his cock, pushes it against your lips and down your throat.

He groans at the deep, echoing swallow you make around his dick, spit bubbling up at the edges of your mouth.

Your hands are pushing at his thighs, nails digging into his skin and you whimper. He shushes you, thrusting in and out of your mouth.

“That’s it, breathe through your nose.” He coos, brushing your hair back.

He pulls back, leaving the tip between your lips and you cough.

“Shh, breathe.” Is all he says before he thrusts into your throat again. He pats your cheek and hums.

You whine and tears roll down your cheeks. You push your hands at his thighs and he finally pulls back all the way.

“Such a good little throat.” He pats your cheek.

Ransom moves from you and you scramble onto your knees, coughing. You crawl away from him and he sighs, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back to him.

“No. No! Please!” You scream, clawing at the sheets.

He climbs over you, pinning you to the bed, and grabs your cheek.

“Stop, stop it!” He shakes your head back and forth in a near-comical way.

He looks at you, taking in the fear in your eyes, and sighs.

“If you’re good for me, I’ll be good to you.” He says, eyes softening. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

You bring your hands to his chest and hiccup, gently pushing him back. He shushes you, petting your hair back, and kneels over your thighs.

You try to move from him, twisting and squirming under him, all to no avail. He splits your thighs apart, pushing one up to your chest, the other to the bed, and spits onto his fingers.

He drags them up against your slit, smirking at the way you’re growing wet. Just like he knew you’d be. You try and fail not to arch into his fingers, closing your legs against his palm.

He grins darkly and gently runs his middle finger through your wetness before gently pushing into you. You cry out, hands shooting down for his forearm. You pant and heave, your body burning a hot red as you try to push his hand out.

Through it all you’ve been whimpering a soft mantra of ‘no’ and ‘please stop’. He curls his finger upwards, stretching you out for him. You whimper and cry, clenching your teeth as he pushes more than you can take.

He adds another finger and you squeal, punching his arm. He lets you; he lets you mark up his arm with crescent moons from your nails, raking lines down his skin. He lets you.

You gasp and curl against him. He pulls his hand back, patting your thigh, and gently nudges you back. You cry out and kick against him and he lets you.

You whimper and hiccup, trying to close your legs as he kneels between them. He spits into his palm, taking himself in hand and giving himself a few jerks.

You hiccup, swiping hastily at the tears in your eyes, and look up at him. Your bottom lip quivers and your face heats up.

“Ransom, please. Please.” You beg.

He pays no mind to your please and pushes your legs further apart, to accommodate his size. He looms over you like a dark cloud and pushes his cock between your folds.

He groans as he grinds against you. You burn a beet red and turn away from him, pushing a hand at his chest. He brings his hands to your sides, fingers digging into the meat of your hips.

He drags the tip of his cock against you, slapping it against your cunt lewdly, before pushing into you.

You scream. It’s cracked and loud, hoarse, and followed by a broken sob as tears stream down your cheeks. He’s far too big for your abused cunt, you truly feel like he’s splitting you apart. Your ears ring and you scream more, on the verge of passing out.

Ransom fully sheathes himself in you, bottoming out, huffing softly. You thrash in his arms, hitting balled fists against his sides and chest. They hold no power to them, weak and brittle.

You overexert yourself, hiccuping and trying to swallow what little breath you’re given, and go back to sobbing. You cry and cry as Ransom simply stays seated in you.

His body is heavy against your stomach. His arms are brute and strong against your waist and his hands are warm against your skin.

He pulls back, looking down, and finds himself spotted with blood. He lifts you a little, to which you cry, and finds specs of blood against his silk, white sheets.

He fixes his hands over your hips and thrusts into you. You go limp under him, falling back into the bed with a hiccup. He thrusts into you with inhuman strength, railing you into the bed.

You stare up at him, vision muddled and spotty from your tears. You hiccup and close your eyes, turning away from him. He grabs your jaw and turns you back, tapping your cheek.

“Look at me. Look at me.” He says. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

You sob and open your eyes, looking up at him. He pants and groans above you, sweat coating his chest. He grunts and licks his thumb, bringing it between your thighs to rub at your clit.

You whimper, shaking under him. You twist away from him and he smirks, rubbing harder. You let out a little squeak before biting your bottom lip and covering your mouth with a palm.

“Oh, you like that?”

You turn away and he grabs your jaw.

“Don’t hide from me.” He growls and you instinctively bring your hands up to cover your head. It enrages him and he punches you in the ribs, the soft squeak you give makes him furious.

He throws a few more punches to your sides as you gasp. He loves seeing the way you try to curl inward after every blow.

He punches you in the stomach this time, hard and you gasp out. Pulling back as he goes to give you another. You’re gasping and panting, in absolute pain and he scoffs.

He pulls out and flips you onto your knees, pushing your back down before sliding back in you. You cough and spit up, arms too weak to hold you.

You gasp and hiccup into his sheets, coughing and wheezing as you try to breathe through your perforated lungs.

He grabs your hips and rams into you, relentless at the pain he’s causing you. He sees the blood pooling around your mouth and lifts your head. He grabs your hair and cranes your neck to him.

Blood covers your bottom lip and he wipes it away. He looks at you and pauses for a split second. You whimper and simply let your eyes close, going limp in his hold.

He drops your head back down, grabs a hold of the back of your neck, and thrusts into you. He grunts and wraps a hand around your throat as he ravages you into the bed.

You sob out, arching against him and he shushes you, kneeling down over your back. He presses himself against you, groaning into your ear.

You whimper at his groans and he smiles, bringing a hand between your legs to rub at your clit. You gasp and try to close your legs, twisting under him.

“Don’t do that.” He says, pushing them apart.

You whine, high and pitchy in your throat and he shushes you. He rubs gentle, teasing circles over your bud and you shiver under him.

You make a soft little noise and he grunts into your ear. You bite your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and he shakes his head, tapping your cheek.

“Don’t hide your noises from me.” He teases, “Let me hear you.”

“You know you love this.” He hisses, voice hot and seething against your ear.

You whimper, digging your head into his sheets, gasping against the silk fabric. He grabs your hips again, fucking you into the bed as you cry out.

He settles back on his knees and rams into you, grabbing your neck again. You hiccup and tense under Ransom, as he grinds down against you. It’s not long before he feels the heat biting at the tail of his spine.

It crawls up his back and he groans, laying flatter against you. He brings his arm around your neck, fitting your head into his elbow. You cough out and try to push his arm away.

“You feel so good around me. Such a tight little cunt.” He smirks at the way you whimper, shifting under him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts into your ear.

You tense under him, trying to push him off you. You kick your legs back and he grabs your jaw.

“Stop!”

“Please, don’t, you can’t—please!” You beg.

You sob, voice cracking as you heave against him. He tightens his arm around your neck, pinning you under him. You flail under him, trying to push him off as your face begins to turn almost purple-red. You gasp and gurgle as he cuts off your airway.

You smack your hand against his arm, nails digging into his skin. He hisses and slaps your face, bringing his arm even further around your neck. You struggle in his arms and he grunts, pushing down on your back.

You cough out, ears ringing and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You give out one last squeak before you go limp in his arms.

He sighs and lets your head drop from behind his arm. You drop on the side of his bed and he grunts, rising back up to his knees.

He grabs your hips, bringing you over his thighs, and ruts into you. He feels that heat begin to crawl up his spine again. It curls into his arms and neck, he groans; an animalistic, masculine sound—loud and gruff and he pushes all the way into you.

His cock twitches as he fills you with load after load of his cum. He groans, fingers digging into your hips as he finishes off.

Ransom sighs and shifts back a little, pulling out. He looks down to see blood spotted over his sheets in the mix of your fluids.

He looks up at you and grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. His eyes instantly are glued to the finger-shaped marks lying on your cheek.

They’re even more prominent with the black, smudged mascara lining them. Your makeup is smeared over your face with your tears creating white lines through it. Your cheeks are red and your eyes are puffed. There’s a small string of blood coating your upper lip, trailing down from your nose.

His eyes trail down the rest of your body, which is littered with more red spots. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, a deep groan coming out of your lips with each exhale.

He looks down at your ribs, the yellowing spots on your skin and he clenches his teeth as he cringes. The thing that truly catches his eye is the softball-sized bruise in the center of your stomach.

The one he’d given you earlier. The noise it’d pulled from you replays in his head. A broken, half-sobbed squeak.

He groans with disgust and grabs a blanket, throwing it over your body.

He stands from the bed, rubs at his eyes, and walks over to the ensuite. He starts up a shower, washes his body down, and gets out. He dries himself off and walks back into the room. He grabs a pair of briefs and steps into them.

He grabs a pair of sweats and looks over at you. He stares at you, the way your chest expands with a broken noise.

He cringes again, goes to the guest room across the hall, and sighs. He rolls onto the bed, flipping back to stare at the door.

The house is dark, the slight hum of the night echoes through his ears and he sighs. He burrows his head in his pillow and wills himself to sleep.

A/N: alright, wow, rewriting this took forever, like well over a few months. i tried so hard to perfect this chapter, and ended up with like 20 drafts of it lol, anyway to the ones who enjoyed, please reblog! (they're greatly appreciated in this household)

ANYWAY, thanks for all the support on AO3, love you all mwah x <3