#ransom drysdale fic

[georgiapeach30513]

I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary:  Ransom always gets what he wants.  Even if he has to wait.

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror.  Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate.  You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view.  Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion.  And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.  

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes.  He was so predictable.  Expected perfection from you.  Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes.  There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what.  Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.  

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick.  She was more of a friend than a mother.  She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive.  It was like the two of you had grown up together.  And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything.  He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’.  You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up.  They didn’t need help in the kitchen.  Everything was already outside.  But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to.  And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face.  He was told that you were home from Harvard.  He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack.  From the kitchen.  Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen.  He must have been quieter than he had thought.  You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward.  Right at the table.  A soft little whimper is music to his ears.  He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly.  Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him.  You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table.  Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen.  “Wait.  I’m not finished talking to you.  If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated?  Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt.  Come on, I wanna see.  Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick.  “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom.  I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees?  What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames.  He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t.  You mustn’t.  “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago.  You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked.  I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated.  You followed his instructions perfectly.  Listened to every word.  “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing.  What is that you want?  You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes!  Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk.  Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.  

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no.  Show me what you were doing just a minute ago.  But hold your skirt up.  I wanna watch.  Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table.  Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany.  Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go.  I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm?  You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah.  Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward.  Getting so close that you're panting out his name.  Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut.  Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is.  Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him.  Circling your tongue around his thick digits.  Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad.  I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs.  Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are.  Nothing left to do but follow him outside.  

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn.  He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you.  He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious.  It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself.  Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm.  It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside.  Needing to get something to drink.  Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower.  Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you.  And the worst part was he knew!  He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy!  I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew.  You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no.  Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you.  Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear.  Sniffing up the side of your neck.  His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game?  What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess.  It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth.  Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside.  He wasn’t serious.  The window was right there.  Your dad was right there.  With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.  

“You want my cock?  Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you.  Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.  

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck.  My.  Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there.  You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth.  You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs.  Rolling your eyes up to look at him.  His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you.  You let him take control.  Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you.  His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells.  You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter.  His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No.  I think she had an upset stomach.  Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts.  Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you.  He glances back down to you.  Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging?  You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter.  Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal.  You are dripping wet.  Needy and ready to come.  Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck.  “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she?  You gonna be my little slut?  You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air.  Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up.  His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it.  Call me daddy.  Tell me how bad you want my cock.  Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot.  I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face.  Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth.  Stabbing into you so fast.  So deep he was making your throat bulge out.  And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you.  Almost there.  Gotta hurry.  Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut.  Taking this big fat cock like a good girl.  Uh!  Uh!  Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat.  You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom.  Your hips fuck down on him harder.  Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom!  That’s not fair!  I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs.  Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside.  Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile.  “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.  

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly.  Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him.  “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere.  She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before.  Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right.  Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left.  There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly.  “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk.  He caught him spitting into your cunt.  He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks.  His eyes darkening as he walks closer.  Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot.  You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p.  He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you.  Your daughter is clumsy.  She tends to make a mess, too.  Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information.  Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom.  Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o.  Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out.  Flinging his head towards the door.  Wanting Ransom to follow.  He had no such plans.  He was going to fuck you during these fireworks.  “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché.  Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh?  Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep.  Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess?  I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks.  Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him.  “There ya go.  You gonna show daddy what you learned in school?  I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work.  You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you.  Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming.  You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you.  Sit on my lap.  Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom.  Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.  

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip.  None of the boys from school felt like him.  None of them looked like him.  And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep.  Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess.  Daddy has such a big cock.  You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore.  I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip.  Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom.  Finally have him inside of you.  Something you have dreamed about for years.  “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah.  But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does.  You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy?  You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom.  Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him.  Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him.  “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom.  His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble.  “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess.  Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy.  It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me.  My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess.  Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM!  POP!  “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder.  They can’t hear you.  Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy!  I wanna come!  Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach.  One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit.  “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes!  Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah.  I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend.  He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea.  Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying.  Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit.  His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers.  Everything felt good.  Every part of you feels so fucking good.  Your skin is buzzing with euphoria.  “Go on, Princess.  Come.  Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling.  “Daddy!  Daddy I’m coming!  I’m coming!”  

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip.  Squeezing me so fucking hard.  There, baby.  Keep riding daddy, yeah!  Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core.  Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him.  “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did.  Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes.  “That was incredible.  How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy.  Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up.  You’re married.  Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter!  She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you.  You had him.  He was still in you.  He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her.  You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back.  “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs.  Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.  

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp.  “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control.  Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college.  Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins.  They get attached too easily.  Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it.  Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes.  “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her.  Mmm, my cock is getting hard again.  If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now.  Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress.  It’s too soon to share her.  You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches.  He would fuck you too.  He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you.  Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh.  ‘Good girl’ written on the other.  “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy.  That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile.  “It’s all daddy’s.  Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door.  And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself.  My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you.  His personal little sex toy.  One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with.  And showing off.  His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted.  And he would.  “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you.  “Okay, get some sleep, Princess.  You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right.  Shh.”

“I know.  Sleep.  Dream.  And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @maroonsunrise83​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​ @harrysthiccthighss​

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[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - poor little sleeping beauty (you) has a tough day, from finding out who she really is, and falling into a deep slumber. is the prince able to awaken her?

warning - smut, somnophilia, dubcon (all my characters consent), choking, spitting kink, swearing, creampie, breeding kink, wife kink, kidnapping, cursed.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You were shocked to learn the truth, finding out you were a princess and that your real name wasn’t Briar Rose, you were told your parents had named you Y/n and that they had to send you off with the fairies because a woman named Maleficent cursed you. You had to take a few moments to collect yourself, learning that they were to take you back on your eighteenth birthday, which meant you were due to leave your home any moment now to go back to where your family supposedly lived. 

As the four of you began to head off, your mind was full, thinking about your family, the curse, and the man you had met earlier that day. Oh, he was so handsome. You were saddened to hear the news that you were to be betrothed the moment you got to the castle. You didn’t want to be married off to a man you did not know. It didn’t sit right with you. Maybe if you spoke to your parents, they would understand and let you be with the man in the woods. 

After the long walk, you had finally arrived at the palace, staring up at it with wide eyes, gobsmacked at the sheer size of it. The guards moved out of the way as you walked closer to the entrance, letting you in. Your blue dress that the fairies made as a birthday present clung to your body with each step. Small hands touched your arm, causing you to look down at Fauna. “We will have to leave you for a bit, my dear. We have some business to attend to before you are able to meet your parents.” 

You give a soft smile. “That is alright, Fauna. I’ll be okay.” You assure them, watching as they leave. You begin to look around, admiring the artwork that litters the walls. Suddenly, a wisp of light appears in front of you. Your mind starts to go fuzzy as it pulls you into a trance, and your legs begin to follow as the light moves away from you, leading you toward a secret panel that opens when you are near. You walk up the winding staircase and into the hidden room.

Maleficent’s voice fills the room, coaxing you. “Touch the spindle! Touch it, I say!” Her command fills your ears, taking over your mind, and you have no choice but to obey. Your mind had taken over your legs, causing you to walk over to it. Your hand lifts, finger pointed, before a soft gasp escapes you when the spindle pricks your finger, causing it to bleed. You fall, eyes slipping closed into a deep slumber, not knowing of the dangers that lie ahead. Maleficent cackles as she appears over your unconscious body. “Oh, what a dumb girl.” She smirks as she spies into your mind and sees you dreaming of a man. “Hmm, if you want that man so badly, I guess I could give him to you.”

It was too late when the fairies realised what had happened. They looked at each other with wide eyes. They quickly become their former selves, allowing their wings and magic to take over and lead them to where you are. They would never have expected to be met with you, knocked out into a deep slumber with the one who cursed you standing above you in the same room. Their hearts race as Maleficent looks at the three with a deadly smirk, knowing they wouldn’t be strong enough to stop her. 

“The three fairies! Flora, Fauna and…” Maleficent cocks her head to the side, “Merryweather, I’m guessing?” She waves her hand, scoffing. “Oh, well. I don’t care. I assume you came to get your girl? It is a shame. She would’ve done some good for the world.” She reaches down, running her fingers through your hair. “But, I’m willing to show the princess that the world isn’t so good and colourful. Goodbye.” With a wave of Maleficent’s hand, you and she disappear, causing the fairies to set off in a panic, frightened to tell your father, the king, the news. 

Maleficent lays you on a soft bed, watching you as you sleep. “M–Maleficent, my queen. T–the prince, we found him…” She turns, raising a brow, waiting for her henchman to spit it out. “It seems he is waiting for the princess at the cabin, h–he seems impatient.”

“Hmm, that sounds perfect. Bring him to me!” She waves her hand before looking down at you. “You’re going to have so much fun, little one, and instead of true love’s kiss.” She scrunches her nose as those words leave her lips, not believing in such a thing. “Let’s make it something more… Extreme.” A dark grin appears on her face, knowing what the prince would do once he saw you. Her crow told her how the two of you got along in the woods and how the man couldn’t stop staring at your soft breasts and plump arse. 

Ransom struggled against the henchmen, growling and swearing as they dragged him along. “Get your filthy paws off me! I’ll kill you for touching me! Don’t you know who I am!” The henchmen just shrug and huff, not caring. One of them grabs a cloth and stuffs it into the young prince’s mouth, wanting some quiet. They finally make it up to the room you are held in, throwing Ransom inside. 

“Ah, finally.” Maleficent walks over, tilting his head up with her finger underneath his chin. “Hmm, you are quite handsome.” Her eyes drag across his face, getting what you see in him. Ransom’s brows furrow, unable to speak with the cloth in his mouth, his eyes fall upon your sleeping form, and he begins to wonder what the hell is happening. “But, you are not for me… Princess Y/n continues to think of you, and as you can see, she is currently in a deep slumber.” Maleficent leans closer to his ear, whispering. “Why don’t you find a way to wake her up.” She cackles as she straightens and waves her hand, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

His binds and cloth disappearing along with her, Ransom grumbles, shaking his head. “Fucking witches.” He stands, brushing off his clothes, and his head lifts as he peers at you, eyes drifting down your body. “Huh, so you’re the princess I’m meant to marry.” He walks close, tapping the blanket with the tip of his fingers. “I was ready to fuck you as a mere peasant girl, but knowing that you are much more, it’s so much better.”

It’s as though your body knows he is near. Your nipples harden and slick gathers between your thighs, your dreams turning sexual and dirty. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft whimper as you dream of the handsome man in the woods, bending you over the log and thrusting into your tight cunt. 

Ransom smirks as he watches you squirm. His cock hardens when he hears soft whimpers escape you. “Fuck, sweetheart. You sound so good, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He strips from his clothes, sighing as his cock springs free from his slacks, no longer feeling tight and suffocated. Ransom pulls the blanket away from your body, his cock twitching when his gaze lands on your dress, wondering if it could get any tighter. He slowly gets onto the bed and crawls on top of you, lifting your dress higher as he moves up your body. “So beautiful, and all mine.” He pampers you with kisses, kissing up your body until he reaches your face. 

Ransom groans when his leaking member connects with your bare cunt, and he grips his thick base, rubbing his swollen tip through your sopping folds. “Jesus, you’re so wet, sweetheart. What or who is making you so wet?” He raises his brow in jealousy, wondering who you could be dreaming of when he is here for you. “You know what? If you’re going to be a little slut in your dreams. Then I’m going to treat you like one.” Ransom growls, sick of competing with someone else when you should only be focused on him. He aligns his mushroom tip with your tight hole before thrusting in. His eyes close as he grunts, never having felt someone like you before. 

Sweet moans pass your lips, dreaming of the handsome man in the woods gently lying you onto a blanket on the ground, pressing his hips into yours as he buries himself deeply into you, making love to you, marking your skin with his hands and lips. Your back arches in your dreams, arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back. 

Ransom moans, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, sweetheart, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. You’re sweet walls are fluttering around me like crazy.” He buries his face into your neck, peppering kisses along your skin and thrusting harder and faster into your sweet honey pot. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Getting lost in how good you feel around his member, he hastily grabs a pillow and shoves it under your hips before gripping them, giving him leverage. “When you wake, I’ll continue to fuck you. I’ll fuck you every day, even after you become my wife. I’ll pump you full every single day and night. You won’t think of looking at another man when you have me.”

He nuzzles closer to you, pounding harder as he kisses your cheek, moving closer to your lips, his eyes slipping closed, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. “You’re mine, my sweet Y/n. All mine.” The moment his lips connect with yours, magic explodes around the two of you. Your eyes fly open, arms wrapping around him and your back arches. Ransom smirks, tilting his head back as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Ah, my sweet little sleeping beauty is finally awake. Do you feel that, sweetheart? Do you feel me inside you? Fucking into you, claiming you?” He fucks into you deeper, hitting against the hidden spot inside you. Ransom cups your cheek, glaring down at you with lust-filled eyes. His thumb lands on your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. “You’re mine, understood?” 

You whimper, feeling yourself throb around his cock, never having experienced pleasure like this before. Your mind is cloudy, being pulled from your dream to see it come true with the man you’ve fallen for. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his soft flesh. “O–oh, it feels so good, my prince!” You scream, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to pound into that spot, allowing Ransom to spit directly into your mouth, smirking as you immediately swallow. 

Ransom moves his hand between you, rubbing and rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. Enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his thick cock, he continues to pound into you, the hand that cups your cheek, moves to your throat and squeezes. “You’re going to cum for me, sleeping beauty, and then. I will pump you so full of my cum that it leaks out of you for months.” Your sweet moans fill the room, walls tighten around Ransom, your back arches, and you cum, your juices squirt out of you, covering everything. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

He captures your lips with his, thrusting harder and deeper until his cock twitches and his eyes slip closed. Ransom groans when his end approaches, burying himself deep inside you and emptying thick spurts of cum, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. He begins kissing down, resting on your neck, leaving soft kisses in his path. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Ransom lifts his head and stares deeply into your eyes, his softening cock still deep inside you, blocking his cum from leaking out. “You’re now mine forever.”

You hum, feeling your eyes begin to droop again. You would later learn not to fall in love with the first handsome man you laid your eyes upon. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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[syntheticavenger]

Redemption - Ten

It's been a year since I wrote anything for Redemption. We've seen Ransom's struggles but this is probably the most honest look at the Reader's feelings thus far.

Definitely teared up writing some pieces so you may want to get some tissues! Labrinth's "I'm Tired" was inspiration for this chapter.

Redemption Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Heavy angst, language, emotional breakdown, mentions of past cheating, fainting, mentions of past drug use.

Summary | Ransom Drysdale thought you made a clean break from him after your failed marriage. After a run in at a coffee shop, it appears that it wasn’t as easy as he thought.

There’s a handful of times Ransom has been a praying man.

Once to get clean, staring at his reflection in the mirror after a particularly hard night, nostrils bright red and dark circles underneath his eyes, his mouth feeling like it was packed with cotton. He’d lost count of how many days since he had gone on a binge, empty liquor bottles strewn across the hotel bathroom floor. He’d prayed hard that morning, gripping the sink, fighting to remember what to say to whatever higher power would listen.

Another time to bring you back home, his fingers pressing against the fabric of his pants when he was sitting in the parking lot of your job. The vivid scene of your chest rising and falling, the soft whimper of your distress when he’d tried to calm you down from another letdown, another egregious sin that he had committed against you. You could smell the unnamed woman on him, lamenting that you would never measure up to whatever he was chasing, even as he lied to you and told you that you were enough. He’d prayed hard for the guidance for you to come home, to be enough to help him fight his demons.

A feverish prayer of gratitude when he finally woke from what seemed like years of sleep, only to find out he was under tubes, ventilators and the watchful eye of a team of doctors who were watching his every move.

Making a deal with whoever would listen when he first saw the twins. He didn’t pray for sleep that night after he saw them, replaying Leah’s wide-eyed wonder at the man who stood behind her and his son who had a touch of cynicism about him, even at his young age. He’d prayed that his children wouldn’t grow up like him, bored of a life that he didn’t take advantage of, turning to the vices that made him the shell of who he had become before he had come into their lives.

His solace isn’t a church. 

Not now, anyway, not with the shadows that creep into his mind that could lead him to think the worst of himself and the pathway to feeling better is one that could find him on the precipice of a relapse.

His place of refuge is a coffee shop, his pastor a man a burly man with a beard and kind eyes.

“California isn’t a short trip,” Ari quips, pouting a dash of creamer into his coffee mug. “I assume it was a mutual decision?”

“Sure,” Ransom answers, watching the condensation on his glass of water form into droplets that slide down and onto the coaster. “ I didn’t have much of an excuse to say no, you can’t let my children go across the country to Disneyland.”

“It’s more than that.”

Ransom shrugs, trying to ignore the needling feeling that he should admit how he feels, especially to his sponsor.

“Go on.”

Ransom hates the way Ari can make a conversation seem so simple.

“Makes it real, I guess. She and Steve are getting pretty serious.”

“Sounds like.”

“But that didn’t stop her from letting me come over the night prior.”

“Ransom,” Ari sighs. “In what context are we talking about?”

“There was a lot of emotion.”

“I’m sure there was,” Ari agrees. “But that’s not what I asked. Did you sleep together?”

“No,” Ransom rushes out, his face hot with embarrassment. “But does that matter?”

“It does when you want me to think that you had some emotional, physical aspect to you going over to her apartment. It means you’re still not looking at the truth. I appreciate the candid conversation but let’s be honest here, you could have told her no, that the agreement is that the kids stay local. You didn’t do that. Why?”

“If I said no,” Ransom begins, twisting around his signet ring. “She would have asked why and I didn’t have an answer. I can’t tell her that I’m jealous that she’s seeing another man that isn’t me. We’ve had some nice moments. Doesn’t feel like I should fuck that up by telling her she can’t live her life.”

Ari nods in agreement, Ransom blowing out a hard breath.

“Happy?”

“No,” Ari denies. “Are you?”

“I feel like shit. More than anything, I want to call her, I want to talk to the kids, but I don’t know if they landed and -”

“You know they landed. I saw the flight tracker on your phone. Be honest with me, Ransom. This is a safe space, I’m not here to judge. Unless of course, you want to continue blowing smoke up my ass.”

“I fucked up,” Ransom says quietly, reaching for his coffee cup. “That’s all I can say. Sometimes, I’ll dream about her, and the kids and it feels so goddamn real and then I wake up and it’s…”

He exhales a shaky breath.

“If I have to do this every day for the rest of my life, then I will because it means I still see another day and I get a chance to be around my kids. But I’d be lying if I said waking up from that dream doesn’t fucking hurt every time,” he finishes, trying to will away the tears that well up in his eyes.

“You’re going to get through this. I don’t know where the cards lie for you and her, Ransom, I can’t see the future. But what I do see, is someone who is taking his sobriety seriously and is a loving father to his kids. That part isn’t a dream. That’s real.”

“Yeah.”

Ari leans forward, placing his hand over Ransom’s. It shouldn’t matter but Ransom lowers his head, holding back the tears.

“It’s okay not to be okay, Ransom. We’re our worst enemies sometimes. Be a friend to yourself for once. You deserve that.”

-

Leah and Carter sleep side by side, the other bed untouched while you take them in. The hotel suite is massive, almost the same size as your apartment. It had been too quiet after a while, hearing them play before their voices had faded out. 

When they babies, you used to have to place them side by side, each one reaching out for the other until they made contact. Usually it was arm and arm, a confirmation that the other was present, both waking up when you moved them to a more comfortable position. While too young to know what jetlag is, you know their signs of their exhaustion well, covering them up with a blanket after kissing their foreheads.

The sun is a hazy pink and purple from the balcony, the breeze rushing against your skin as you close your eyes. Miles away and you’re still yearning for something, nameless and indescribable, even if you’re in a Southern California paradise.

 “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve says behind you, stepping outside.

“It is,” you agree. “The view is pretty.”

“I meant you, but I’ll agree to that,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around you, your back against his chest. “Are you happy you came?”

“Yes,” you answer quickly, reaching up to bring him closer. “I’m still trying to process that I’m away from… everything.”

“Doesn’t happen often, I know,” Steve says, kissing your cheek. “But you and the kids deserve a break. It’s been a lot of learnings, a lot of big emotions for the kids.”

Me too, you think.

“Tomorrow I’ll be gone for the majority of the day, but you and the kids are more than welcome to explore, and I can have a car take you wherever you want to go. I get about an hour for lunch if you want to come down and hear all about the advancements in pediatric medicine.”

“Lunch sounds nice.”

“Really?” Steve sounds happily surprised, your face turning toward his. “Then, it’s a date.”

“Thank you for this,” you reply, brushing a stand of his hair off his forehead. “We needed this.”

“We all did,” Steve agrees, leaning forward when he kisses you gently, your fingers going to the collar of his shirt as you pull him closer.

-

An unexpected cold snap takes hold in Anaheim, the temperature dropping at least fifteen degrees that catches you off guard, Carter slightly shivering when he runs back inside, declaring that is too cold.

The layers of clothing work well to keep them comfortable, both of their hands in yours while they tell you what they plan to do when they finally reach their coveted destination of the theme parks that they’ve been watching non-stop. If you follow their plans, you won’t have a single moment to sit down or eat but you listen carefully, asking them questions that they have answers for, delighted that you agree with their choices.

The convention center is massive, following signs that point in the direction of where they are supposed to go. The twins wave and say hello to everyone they meet, asking for a treat when they see a doctor who looks like their former pediatrician, who pats her pockets before apologizing and waving goodbye to them.

In the crowd of people, Carter and Leah spy Steve before you go, letting go of your hands and running full speed, despite your pleas for them to slow down.

You catch up to them right when they are lifted into Steve’s arms, giggling when you see the other person standing next to him, smiling at the twins. She’s immaculately put together, right down to the designer bag that is slung over her shoulder, her hair freshly done and makeup applied flawlessly.

“Hi,” Steve says, giving you a quick kiss before motioning to the person next to him. “You’re right on time. Let me introduce you to Doctor Sharon Carter, she and I used to be colleagues back when I worked in Brooklyn. Sharon, this is my -”

“Nice to meet you,” Sharon greets you, extending her hand to yours as you shake it. “I had no idea that Steve had a whole family.”

“Oh, I -” you try to interrupt.

“This is Leah and Carter,” Steve says, the twins squirming out of his arms as they slide back down to the ground.

“Yours?” Sharon asks.

“Maybe one day,” Steve answers. 

“Interesting. Cute kids you have. Have a good lunch,” Sharon says, turning to Steve. “Don’t forget where we’re sitting. Then there’s happy hour at the end of all the madness.”

“Sure,” Steve replies, taking your hand, not seeing when you look back at Sharon, the twins grabbing your hand and Steve’s.

“See you there!”

-

Steve’s cell buzzes on the table, his expression apologetic when he finally answers a text.

“Sharon?” you ask, glancing at the twins coloring outside of the lines, Carter holding onto a chicken tender while he selects another crayon.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his brow furrowing when he dials her number. “I’ll be right back.���

Getting up from his chair, you can hear his voice lower.

“I’m at lunch, what’s going on?” he asks, maneuvering around the tables, his voice fading amid the sounds of utensils against plates and loud chatter.

Trying to ignore the pit that is spreading in your belly, you focus on the twins, Leah chewing on a French fry while Carter dips his chicken into the big cup of ranch. You want to eat, your stomach grumbling as you had skipped breakfast to make sure that the twins were fed and now you’re paying for it, feeling lightheaded for a moment before shaking the feeling away.

The insecurity sneaks in without warning. The perfect hair Sharon has that you know you will never achieve, let alone sitting that long at a salon without any interruption, to the expensive tailored outfit that you know you would never fit into after childbirth renders you speechless at how quickly the comparisons have come, a flashback to when you found out Ransom had been in the company of one of your bridesmaids, blond and coiffed like Sharon.

But she wasn’t Sharon and Sharon isn’t her, the mantra repeating over and over in your mind.

She isn’t going to sleep with Steve. She isn’t going to lie right to your face when you confront her like your former friend did.

But you don't know that for sure, even if you trust Steve.

Questions float up to the surface of your thoughts. Why didn’t Sharon know about you? Was she supposed to?

None of the feelings that begin to rise are rational, trying to keep yourself calm when Leah and Carter begin to argue over their favorite crayon, their voices getting louder before you look down at the mess of food and broken crayons.

“What happened?” Steve interrupting your thoughts, leaning down between the twins, reaching for a napkin to clean up the spilled water.

“I… I don’t know,” you answer, getting up from your chair, scooping up the broken crayons into a napkin, moving quickly to tidy up the space.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you, the twins back to normal, as if they didn’t have a category three argument.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, a waitress coming by with two sets of crayons to assuage any arguments. “Just a little blow up.”

“Not them,” he says quietly, sitting back down next to you. “Are you okay?”

His phone buzzes once more, your nerves getting to you. He makes no motion to answer it, even as you can hear it in his suit pocket.

“Do you want to answer that?”

“No,” Steve tells you. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, suddenly irritated that he won’t answer it. “If it’s Sharon, you can just answer it.”

“It is,” Steve agrees. “But it can wait.”

“No, go ahead and answer it,” you answer, trying to calm yourself down. “It keeps going off so just… answer it.”

“Did I miss something?”

“You didn’t get any texts from her until today and now…” you trail off, seeing Steve’s confused expression as you fight back tears. “Forget it. Leah? Carter? There’s a playground a little bit from here and they have swings. Do you want to go?”

The twins perk up, the crayons rolling around the table as Steve blinks in confusion.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m going to take them to the park.”

“We’re eating lunch. I don’t understand,” Steve tries, watching you get up. “Can you just tell me what happened?”

“She’s asking me about the surprise symposium we’re supposed to be doing,” Steve informs you, pulling out his phone. “I can show you the texts.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you reply softly, digging through your purse, tears welling in your eyes.

That’s how it started, you recall bitterly, placing money on the table. The friendly texts, the questions that Ransom would answer. You always were offered those to read and pour over, even when you declined.

It was the others that you weren’t allowed to see.

“We will talk about this when you’ve processed things and I’m in a better headspace,” Steve says, leaning toward you so that only you can hear. “I’ll see you later.”

The kids wave goodbye, Leah carefully looking up at you as she pouts.

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Leah pleads, your head lowering to see her sweet little face. “What did we do?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. Mommy just needs some fresh air, I promise. It’s so warm,” you lie, fanning yourself as Carter follows suit near your face. “I’ll be fine once we get outside.”

“Go faster!” Carter chimes in, Leah pulling you toward the door. “Bye Steve!”

-

“You and Sharon did a fantastic job with such short notice,” Sharon’s husband praises. “I mean it, I just was blown away at how you can take such a hard subject and turn it into a masterclass.”

“Only a little frustrating,” Sharon admits, giving Steve a slight jab on his arm with her elbow. “Sorry you had to deal with all my texts with my edits. The minute Doctor Erskine asked where you went, I knew it was something big. I’m so sorry I panicked.”

“It’s fine,” Steve assures her. “We figured it out and with any luck, Doctor Erskine will realize he doesn’t want me up there talking for an hour and a half straight.”

“Where’s your,” Sharon pauses, sheepishly looking at him. “Girlfriend? Wife?”

“She’s at the hotel with the kids.”

“Scratch that happy hour then, I thought you brought her. Go be with them. You know how these happy hours are. All the booze and none of the networking. Whatever they are to you, those kids are adorable. You’re lucky to have all of them, Steve.”

“Thanks, Sharon. I definitely am.”

Giving her and her husband a nod, he slips out the restaurant, looking down at his phone for any sign of a missed call from you, sighing when he realizes there is none.

-

The twins are in their separate beds, freshly bathed and in their favorite pajamas, unaware of the tears that stream down your face.

The cuffs of your sweatshirt are wrinkled from the amount of pulling and twisting through your fingers, guilt ridden stimuli taking over. Your throat aches with the need to shout, to scream your frustrations out to the night. The pent up rage, both at yourself and the past looks you in the face when you finally turn on the light, the mirror in the bathroom a reflection of someone you don’t recognize. 

Gripping the sides of the sink and lowering your head, you begin to pray, lips moving so fast that you can’t the words out fast enough. Your tears a sacrament that drop into the sink when you bare your teeth at your transgressions, wishing that whatever higher power would give you a chance at peace. To lighten the burden you’ve carried and to give yourself grace. 

Embarrassment takes hold, your body shuddering at the thought of how you acted, the way Leah’s gaze was solely on you and your tears. You don’t know how many times she’s seen you cry, and the thought only makes you pray harder, to hide your emotions from your beloved children so that they will never know the fight you continue to endure.

Exhaustion finally wins out, your knees buckling when you siip down onto the floor, eyes closing in defeat.

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[navybrat817]

Temporary Job

Pairing: Soft!Dark Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Summary: Your job with Ransom is only temporary. Or so you think.

Word Count: 250

Warnings: Implied DUBCON/NONCON, possessive behavior, Ransom Drysdale being an asshole (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 2! Character: Ransom Drysdale. Length: 250 words max. Prompt: "Go on. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me." ❤️ @stargazingfangirl18, I may need to expand on this and have him truly manhandler her! Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tears filled your eyes as you read the email. Another job rejection. This one hadn’t given you the chance for an interview. Just like the last one.

You stiffened and quickly tucked your phone away as Ransom walked into his home office. “Excuse me, Hugh. I mean, Mr. Drysdale.”

“Let me guess?” Ransom smirked as he shut and locked the door. “You got rejected? Again? Probably because you were too busy looking at your phone instead of cleaning my house.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Cut the bullshit. I'm not a fucking idiot,” he snapped, his usually handsome face twisted in a scowl. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been looking for other jobs?”

You caved under his sharp gaze and wondered how he found out. “It isn’t personal,” you said, refusing to tell him that you were uncomfortable in his presence. “But this was a temporary job and-”

“After the calls I made, no one will hire you,” he cut you off, eyeing you like you were a piece of meat as tears began to fall. “And you can call me Ransom from now on.”

You screamed when he bent you over the desk a minute later, even though no one was around for miles to hear. You promised you wouldn’t tell if he let you go. You may have even said you hated him when he laughed.

“Go on. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me. But you aren’t going anywhere, pumpkin. You’re mine now.”

Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be good to you. 😈 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ransom Drysdale Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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[ronearoundblindly]

The Root Of All Ransom (Finale)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom figures out how to undo his disinheritance.

Warnings for language (I'm never kidding about how many f-bombs this boy drops), smut (blowjob, p in v sex that is consensually unprotected, general smuttery), vague contemplations of murder but we ain't going the canon route. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist. This is not your story!

I have somehow managed to put Ransom Drysdale deep in his feels. This is only OOC if you haven't read up to this point, but we do end on a soft!Ransom note. WC 6954 (oh my fucking wat???)

Ransom huffs out a foggy breath in the night air, cold in more ways than one. All the windows glow from the mansion, yet it looks completely different in light of what Harlan’s done.

Thrombey Manor is his birthright. He doesn’t love the architecture or the eccentric layout. He hates the furniture. He’s never really enjoyed anything about the place. It’s the polar opposite of his own house, but it was his in a way, part of his status, part of his baseline of existence. He’s not prepared for any other eventuality. Ransom built his life on a perfectly stable bridge that some idiot just blew up with C4.

No, no, not some idiot. His own family. The only member of his family he would think could never do this to him. Fuck Harlan.

Ran’s been flying high on a lie, and the magic money carpet’s been ripped away.

He has one lifeline, one option he’s grasping onto.

If he can manage this, nothing will change. He won’t lose the allowance. He won’t lose you. You’ll never know how unworthy he is. He can just have everything and never speak of this again.

Harlan. Marta. Inheritance. Killing two birds with one liquid stone.

Ran could do it. He will do it, but you cannot know. He can’t have you around. He has to push, to start giving you a safe distance, to leave you plausible deniability. If you suspect, you’ll leave him anyway. 

If he succeeds, worst case? He’s rich and alone. If he does nothing? He’ll be poor and alone.

One of those scenarios used to be acceptable, but not now, not anymore.

Pushing you away tonight might be the last time you ever look at him without pity, and he’s not ready for how heavy that sits in his roiling gut. He has to though. He has to make you leave, if only for the rest of the night—but it might be forever, his brain reminds him. Fucker. It’s not like Ran’s pleasant to be around. Getting away from him shouldn’t be a hard sell.

When you emerge from the house, however, what he hoped would sound sharp and dismissive sounds oddly open-ended.

“You could just walk from here,” he tries wishfully.

True to form, beautiful, pissed-off you sidesteps his expectations.

You take his coat, your coat, and the Birkin to the passenger’s side with a ferocious look.

“Get in the car,” you manage through tight lips.

Fuck. He misses you already. He hasn’t given up. He won’t, but his center of gravity is gone. He’s reeling from this.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale revolves around money.

His whole life he has stretched wide and greedy limbs to capture numbered, green rays of meaning. He hasn’t only lost the light of his sun now. No. Nuclear winter has just stripped him bare and knocked him on his ass. Ran cannot articulate all the reasons he’s so upset.

He values you and him together for relatively selfish reasons. From all he’s seen, you don’t need any more people in your life that exist so far below you. You don’t need ‘help.’ You need an equal, a free and independent equal. Ran isn’t even fucking close anymore.

With a stroke of a pen, he’s now dependent. It’s pathetic. If he stays without even the means to be your not-quite-equal, then he’s everything he hates. He’ll be clingy. He’ll be needy. He’ll be in the way. He’ll finally do it; he will annoy you.

He will bore you.

What a fucking world.

You snap him out of his dashboard stare.

“Do you want to talk about it now or at home?”

“Neither,” he quips easily. “I’ll drop you at the Carlyle’s.”

His eye twitches at his faux pas. You don’t have to correct him. He knows it’s your place, your name, your property, and your right to claim. He doesn’t need reminding.

His key twists in the ignition just as your hand comes up to his shoulder.

He can’t even glare at you properly because a tap rings off his window pane. Both of you jump in alarm because night fell hours ago. Who sneaks up on a car in the fucking dark?

Ran’s father is fucking who. Of course. The window peels down, and Ransom feels as if the last seconds of his life are draining away after the plug’s been pulled.

“Trouble in paradise, you two?” Dick asks with cheeky concern.

“No, Mister Drysdale,” you say politely, no hint of insincerity in your smile.

“Richard, please, honey. You’re practically family.”

Smug asshole, do NOT call her ‘honey.’

“Eat shit,” Ransom mutters overly loud again, but your sudden slow grip on his kneecap tells him to behave. Ol’ Dick has no right to call you ‘honey’ though. Ran’s not even sure what he’s allowed to call you, and he’s pissed, sure. He’s…something else, too; he’s obedient beneath your hand.

Richard ignores Ran’s attitude. “Listen, son, I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, your mother and I will always love you. In case…ya know, in case you ever doubted, and…well, we’re family. We stick together.” He even gives Ran a squeeze on the shoulder for emphasis.

Ransom has no fucking clue what his father intends with that entirely useless statement but doesn’t fucking care. “You know what?” He’s about to lunge out the window to choke that fucking prick. “Definitely eat shit.”

Your grip tightens, and Ran’s insides clench, knowing he toes a line.

“We should really go,” you add with a now painful, strained civility.

“Okay, you crazy kids,” Richard pats his heavy hand on the door frame. “Thanks for coming to the party and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, Richard.”

Ransom rolls the window back up without looking at you. That sure as shit was not his father’s reaction to Harlan throwing millions at Marta fucking Candelabra. He can’t be near these people anymore, so Ran slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway, and scattering gravel in his wake.

Your sigh releases with the pressure on his knee. “I suspect it’s about his affair.”

As if that narrows it down. “Which one?”

“The first one as far as your grandpa knows,” you snort, “which hopefully Linda buys too from the way you’ve talked about it. Jesus, really? Slow down!”

Ran doesn’t want to slow down. The car is finally catching up to his racing thoughts and a plan coalescing. If Harlan knows about Richard’s affair, then his mother will absolutely divorce him, leaving Dick with nothing—and if you know that Harlan knows about it then—

“Hugh—” the hand has slid from his knee to his crotch, the heel of your palm gently digging into the stiff fabric of his jeans “—we should have taken care of you before…”

Fuck, that feels good.

You’re right, of course. Ran really should have planned a few minutes of privacy for you both to get off after the airport. Not that it’d have to be private for him (parking lot, terminal, or tarmac—he wouldn’t fucking care), but the thought flashes in his mind like the bright spots behind his eyelids that he might not get to fuck you again. That’s profoundly upsetting, and your grip on the outline of his swelling cock is profoundly distracting.

He swats at your arm, blood rushing to his tension-white knuckles only for a second, but you simply swivel in the seat to change hands, dragging down his zipper.

“Sweetheart“ slips out. Is he allowed to say that anymore? He should still act normal, right? Except he’s been a raging mess for a quarter-hour already and oh fuck. “What are you…”

Ran’s been wrong this whole time: you are a road head bitch.

He’s so taken aback by your spit-slicked lips cooly brushing the head of him that he nearly elbows your spine. The car swerves slightly as he strains to collect himself, to think of just one other thing instead of your fucking tongue sliding down his length to tease at his still-covered balls and—

Mother of fucking mercy, he has to pull over.

Only by some miracle, some blessed (or horrible) gap in his distraction, is he able to consciously choose parking off the lane just beyond the menagerie elephant statue because, otherwise, that pervy-ass groundskeeper could relive his long-forgotten past of grainy porn. Because that’s what this is turning into. Pornographic is the only way to describe the choked grunt Ran finally lets out as he slams on the brake and you snap the car into park just to get the gear shift out of your way.

“I’m only here three days,” you say around a mouthful of cock, bobbing a few more times before switching to your hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it by being fucking baby.”

“I’m not—fuck—“ he’s not expecting you to climb over him in the cramped car “—you don’t understand.”

“So you don’t want me right now?”

He shakes his head furiously, half in hope of collecting genuine thought, half in desperation for you to continue.

Space is so limited between Ran’s body and the steering column that your bent knees pin his arms to the door and the console. It should hurt but fuck if he’s gonna say anything while he watches you peel your panties to the side and line yourself up. 

“Gah, you just—“ he pants as his heart rate spikes. Instead of putting him in you, Ran’s paralyzed to stop two of your fingers from sinking into your soaked pussy. You’re drooling for him, mouth and cunt, and goddamn, he is so torn between pounding you into next week or tossing you out of the car to get on with his plan.

It’s about an 80/20 split in favor of fucking you.

And then he thinks…yeah, he could definitely get off and get you to the Carlyle’s—your place—in time to sneak back. So he just lets go, shoving his face forward to capture your lips, enjoying the wet sounds as you prep for him, and eating up your moans and curses. He knows you’re purposefully dragging your knuckles against his dick as you bring them out with each stroke. Why are you so fucking hot? Why can’t he just have this without Harlan’s help? 

He’s dependent.

Ran realizes he always was, but he fucking hates it.

Removing your fingers makes the bunched-up dress pool over your hips and graze his raging erection. Great, now your spit and his precum are smeared all over your clothes. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. Normally, that would be even hotter. Now, Ran wonders how much that damn thing costs because he never even looked; he just knew it suited you.

A steady grip at his base and suddenly Ran can’t wonder about any fucking thing under the sun. Your walls welcome him inch by inch like he’s goddamn worthy of that silky squeeze, but he can’t say shit. All he can manage is craning his neck forward to mouth over your nearest breast, arms still pinned. Fuck it. More fluids on the dress. If you don’t care, he doesn’t care. Maybe. Maybe he’ll just care later. Maybe he’ll learn to look at the cost of things. Maybe he won’t have to when he succeeds at fixing this dumpster fire of a situation.

His teeth graze against a barely felt but hard-peaked nipple, and you gasp out another moan. You have to shift to wedge your leg down by his side and repeat with the other one. One of his forearms is tingling, asleep, so he switches his mouth around and uses the functioning arm to play.

You’re moving so slow, too slow.

“You fucking love to mess with me,” Ran growls, all but biting through the layers before yanking at the neckline, savoring the plush skin he exposes. “Love fucking me,” he mutters again.

“Yeah, baby, why do you think that is?” You use the name so condescendingly and roll your hips so deliberately that Ransom bites back a ‘fuck you,’ instead forcing out a strangled whine. You just drag yourself up and down until he answers, pushing his t-shirt and an errant tail of his cardigan out of the way. Your fingers gently scratch the flat plain of his abs.

“Say it.”

He knows the answer. He’s known for a while, but that’s not something Ran’s ever gonna be ready for. It’s just already the truth.

It’s as soft as a hum against your skin.

“Say it, Hugh. Tell me why.”

He can tell by how you’re getting sloppier with your movement, by how hard you grind forward against him, that you’re close.

“Because you love me.” Ran winces at how desperate he sounds. It’s almost a cry, but he can’t really resist repeating it. “You love me.”

Your hands bury in his hair, and he’s literally covered in you while trapped in this fucking steam room of a car. He can’t control anything he’s doing.

“You love me,” he says again.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

You’re fluttering around his cock like a dream, shouting encouragement, and it just slips out.

“I love you.”

He has no idea if you even hear him because you come so hard that your back bends, slamming you against the steering wheel.

The horn blares in the quiet woods.

You wait for him to yank you forward and erupt into sated giggles while Ran is a whole different kind of paralyzed, hiding his face in your chest for as long as you’re simmering without care.

Your fingers card through sweaty hair, your heartbeat slowing more than his does.

“Think you need this,” you say in a breathy whisper. You pull away to cradle his face.

He’s terrified you’re gonna ask. You’re gonna want him to say it again, he thinks, and Ran’s not sure he can with your eyes boring into his, knowing what he knows, being what he is until the will is void.

“I want you to come, Hugh.” Your thumb traces across his bottom lip, gaze following before it flickers back up.

You sound so fucking innocent while your slick is smeared all over his low belly and seeping through his underwear. His boxers are kinda in the way but kinda immovable while in such cramped quarters. Pushed aside, they hinder only as much as your bunched-up panties do. Easy enough to live with.

You keep staring expectantly.

“Do you want me to stop—“ fuck NO “—or will you give me what I want?”

Ran’s whole chest clenches, and it’s only because he slams his mouth to yours that you can’t see his eyes roll in fucking ecstasy. Perfect. You’re goddamn perfect. He couldn’t deny you anything much less this, and he knows that if this is the last time, he has to take advantage.

Sliding down slightly on the seat (because everything operates in centimeters at most this close), he takes two giant handfuls of your ass and spreads you, lifting so he can thrust his hips up at a brutal pace. He doesn’t fucking care if his knees bang against unyielding metal. He doesn’t care that a vein in his neck might snap from strain. He just needs this one thing, and then he’ll let it go. He’ll be ready for whatever outcome Harlan’s death triggers.

Because Ransom needs money. He had money long before he had you. It’s what he needs the most in life. He loves money.

If losing you is what it takes to keep the money…

That’s the thought he can’t finish as control of the urge to come slips from his bruising fingers. His desire for his status quo is faltering. His equilibrium’s changed.

He does love money. He does.

Now, to Ran's surprise, he loves you, and he has no fucking clue how to love both. He doesn’t know if he can keep both.

But friction is friction. He’s surrounded by the feel and sound and smell of sex. It’s familiar and more than a little haunting to him if this is the last time, but Ran crests that mountain before any coherent thoughts form. He can’t trust himself to speak. He might repeat what he never should have said aloud.

The groan when he empties himself inside you is almost pained, swallowed immediately by your adoring and hungry kiss. He’s sweat straight through his t-shirt and his jeans are a fucking mess. Your dress is damp, stained, and wrinkled. You’re practically bonded to the leather seat, but he just absently runs the back of his fingers up and down your thighs while he comes down.

When you release his mouth, your arms settle across his shoulders, and he buries his face in your chest again, hiding, relishing, stalling.

Shit, he’s gonna miss this.

After a minute, you rest your forehead against his and lift your hips until his limp dick slides out of you. Through half-closed eyes Ran watches you bite your bottom lip, gnaw on it like he wants to, like he moves to—

“Is this about the will?”

Ran freezes.

“Did—Harlan told you, didn’t he?”

“WHAT THE SHIT.” Ran’s rage explodes, heaving you off of him and into the passenger’s seat. “YOU FUCKING KNEW?!”

He shoves himself back in his pants and scrambles for the damn zipper.

“Ransom, it’s fine. He just—“

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you warn me? Jesus FUCK.” He’s unlatched and kicked the door open before you even get a word out.

“Harlan is my friend and—“

But he slams it shut, leaving your words muffled while Ran fumes in damp fucking clothes in the frigid air.

His fists almost—almost—pound on the hood of his car as he bites out, “I could have killed him.” 

Ran’s pacing toward the tree line when you finally shuffle from the beamer, pulling your dress back into place.

“Harlan’s my friend and he asked me in confidence if it made sense.”

“I’m sorry, he asked you? As in, my grandfather might not have done this if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus.”

“It wasn’t just about you.”

“It makes sense to leave me destitute? And you knew! You lying bitch,” he growls, immediately wishing the word hadn’t popped out, clawing at his scalp in a punishing attempt to think. “You watched me throw all that fucking money away and didn’t think I deserved to know?!“

“I’ve met you. Why would you listen to me about how to spend your money? That isn’t something you do, Ransom.”

“That’s not the point!” And stop calling me fucking ‘Ransom.’ “I can handle myself.”

“Then I guess your answer is ‘that’s how you spent the money,’ by choice.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. You lied to me. You’re the one who didn’t trust me.”

Your stalk forward in the dry leaves, stopping just outside of arm’s length away. “What the hell did I just say in there, huh? I love you. I said I love you, then you go and call me a bitch, so who’s the liar between us, huh? Who’s got trust issues?”

Ran’s face scrunches in distain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Guess,” you spit back easily. 

Well, he isn’t fucking saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck this. This is the worst-case scenario: poor and alone because if you know, he can never get away with his plan.

“Why do you always do that?” he growls with a venom that poisons no one but himself. “Why the fuck are you here then?” Why are you with him?

“I’m here to support my piece of shit boyfriend at a piece of shit family event because Hugh asked me to.”

Nope. The right name is wrong. It sounds much worse than he expected.

Ran doesn’t know what to do with all this sick energy churning in his gut except burn through it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his life.

“There it is. There’s the truth,” he yells, leaning into your face. “I know it. You know it. This isn’t going to work. We’re not the fucking same. We’re not even close—“

“I don’t want someone the same as me.”

“I’m a useless—”

“Ran.” Your hands fly to gently land on his face.

“—talentless—“

“Seriously, please.”

“—sack of shit and you—“

“HUGH!” The grip at his jaw slips as he jerks back.

Ran tenses, shoving his chilled fingers into his jean pockets, pushing the wet material in front away from his crotch. He goes awkwardly quiet.

Yelling. He remembers the yelling. He’s been comfortable with yelling for longer than he’s been comfortable with affection.

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” You cross your arms over you chest and shiver. “This. This bullshit is why I didn’t tell you, but so what? You don’t have your own money. How do you think Harlan and I started out?”

He gives a look that shouts back everything he can’t put into words.

“You’re not useless or talentless. You’re entitled. That’s all, and you can change that state of being pretty fucking easily.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? Be a houseboy who eats you out once a week?”

“A week? Well, I hope I pay better than that.”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he grouches.

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that. “You started these jokes!”

“You don’t have to rub it in—”

“—just rub it out, huh?”

He doesn’t want to laugh. It’s not funny. His fate isn’t a laughing matter, but like everything else tonight, he fucking fails. A smile twitches at his lips.

“Ok, asshole, you want to be useful? How ‘bout driving us home? I’m freezing.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a flinging arm.

“If you don’t get in this damn car, you will be helping me balance to pee in those woods.”

“Fucking gross,” Ran whines.

“Yeah, well, your ability to self-access is appalling too,” you jovially clap back, “but we’re working with what we’ve got.”

Fair.

Savage but fair.

He frowns and follows you into the car.

You talk his ear off on the way to his house, but he isn’t in the least bit annoyed. He’s engrossed. It’s all a type of flattery Ransom can hardly fathom: honest praise.

“I was miserably alone before you.”

He wouldn’t have pegged that based on how he saw you at all those events, but now that he considers how you’ve opened up about your frustrations and the exhaustion of being the center of attention, it makes sense. Ransom takes attention away from you. He loves that shit. He doesn’t even care if it’s negative attention. Hide behind his broad back and shine that spotlight on him; he’s game.

“You know what people you pay to be around you—people who want something from you don’t do? Argue. No one has a real conversation. No one has an opinion contradictory to yours. No one calls you out on your shit. It’s so…”

“Boring,” he whispers without thinking.

There’s a long pause until you continue softly.

“No one calls me out on my shit except you, only you.“ 

Your hand finds his. Though your skin is cold, he’s warmed by the touch. 

“So no, I don’t think my money will change anything. If money—mine or yours—were going to change you, it would have done it by now. I mean, sure, you could stand to be less of a dick sometimes, but you don’t have to. I already…”

Your voice trails off, and Ran knows. That’s just it. You love him and he’s a dick, the poor asshole who understands what the feeling is, the one who can’t say it, not on purpose, not yet. The tectonic shift in his life’s framework leaves him uneasy. As wonderful as you are, as perfect as this has been, he has to start over.

He has to build himself up from scratch. He’s been transplanted to an alien planet that he doesn’t have the means to make hospitable. Money was his means to everything. Money provided for him. Money protected him. Money separated him from others.

He never had space for two in his now-demolished castle of selfishness.

“I thought I’d be with someone so different from you,” you laugh without heart. “I’m…glad I was wrong.”

All he can manage is a squeeze of your hand.

“But Hugh, you’re proud of my success, not fucking threatened by it. You let me work, but you also know when I need a break and won’t take one. You’re devoted without being smothering because you have your own damn life, things you want to do. You aren’t intimidated by all this shit in my stupid world or the money. You don’t give a fuck what other people say.”

That’s true.

“You make me laugh,” you say quietly, and though he can’t see your face in the dark of the road leading to his neighborhood, he hears your smile. “You asshole.”

As he turns into the driveway, he glances over and winks. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

He watches that throwaway statement melt you, and then he realizes why.

Ransom trying to do absolutely fucking anything is a big fucking deal, and he has tried. He simply has no idea where to go from here.

He turns off the beamer and makes no move to get out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Your hand releases his to glide up his arm and lace through his hair, lightly rubbing the base of his neck. “Help me,” you breathe.

“How the fuck would I help you?”

“Hugh,” you cock your head to the side, retracting both arms to brush your palms down the fabric of your (ruined) skirt, “you know damn well you’d like to control my whole wardrobe. You would do far better dressing me for all those functions than I do…and undressing me.”

He knows what you’re doing, but instead of smiling or laughing, he tightens his jaw and huffs. “Can I burn some of your—“ he does half air-quotes “—'wardrobe?'”

It’s so hideous. That one black dress you keep fucking wearing? No amount of dry cleaning will make that look new again. That’s getting flambéed.

You purse your lips. “Donate, but yes. I would consider that a huge help.”

“You’re serious.” Ran’s not sure whether he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yes. I am. Thank you for noticing.” You swivel to open the door. “Now, you can also help get my bag in while I use the restroom.”

The dance of readying for bed becomes you pointing out things you have now that you did not have before him. Taste being one of them, Ran thinks to himself. The important thing is he could say that to your face, but he’s strategically not pushing his luck tonight.

It’s true. Nearly every article of clothing and every toiletry now links back to his insistence that you have nice things that are for you, not just for life in general. You come before the rest of the world; you come before your work. That’s his gift. That’s what he’s good at, and you make it clear: you need him for that talent.

All of these nice things, all these reasons he seems good to you, and all this need for him have Ran feeling some sorta way when you crawl into his bed naked and reach to turn off the light.

He grabs your hand before you make it to the switch, forcing it back to the mattress, keeping you facedown. His heated breath and heavy body roll over you, teeth grazing your shoulder and moving slowly to your earlobe.

“You know what else I’m good for?”

His free hand slips between your thighs and finds what slick you couldn’t clean up. The knowledge that some of it is his cum still inside you makes Ran shudder. How would he ever have lived without this?

You sigh, your mouth falling open at the intrusion, and your eyelids flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you moan, high and quiet.

“That’s right, baby,” he hisses, mimicking your condescension from the car. Oh yeah, he’s gonna ruin more than that goddamn dress tonight.

He takes time to torture you with his fingers, his weight rendering you immobile. Ran sweeps falling hair out of your face with free reign to pepper open-mouthed kisses across the stretch of skin he’s claimed since that very first fuck.

You always knew what you wanted. He never thought you’d truly want him, certainly not for more than a day. After tonight, it’s inconceivable you want him still, yet here you are, burying your face in the sheets to muffle little cries as he humps your ass cheek to get harder and harder.

Good god, why do you want him? He fucked around, he yelled at you, he called you horrible names, he left you for weeks at a time in a foreign country alone, and yet you are here.

Then your words spring to mind. He argues with you. He has opinions. He makes you laugh. He treats you like the independent person you are. He treats you like your money doesn’t matter.

Because it didn’t to him.

Ransom realizes now that you treat him as if his money didn’t matter because it doesn’t to you. Nothing changed when you knew he wouldn’t have it anymore. Not a single thing. Somewhere over the last months, Harlan told you his plan, and the only perceptible difference to Ran was you falling in love with him.

Because you love him. He is so grateful he’s almost angry. You could do better. He can give you better.

By the time you come on Ran’s fingers, he’s completely feral thinking about all those little ways you showed your feelings, all the ways you showed him kind touch is not weakness. You also showed him that touch doesn’t have to be weak to be kind. He can be rough with his feelings for you, intense as they are. He can sink his cock into you, practically screaming that he loves you, too, but the words aren’t spoken.

He presses a thick forearm across your back to keep you pinned. He spreads his legs to widen yours. He thrusts in possessive and messy movements. No words escape. His range of motion is limited this way, but he gets all of your glorious noises. They’ve become his favorite sleep track. It’s hard for him to rest without hearing your happy, panicked pleasure beforehand.

You make desperate fists in the sheets and arch your ass up higher. He sees the unnatural strain in your body, all for him, all so he can have just that fucking tiny bit more of you.

He can’t stay in this position forever though. You’ll never come again like this, and he wants to see your face. The car was dark, but the lamp is still on. He can watch you fall apart with him deep inside.

“Turn,” he orders, enjoying how dazed and shaky you are as you struggle to control your muscles.

You’re a sight. Erratic breaths hardly settle your gasps. Pliable and ruined. Torn to whimpering pieces and stitched back together only to be split apart again.

He drinks in his handiwork, climbing slowly between your legs, delicately helping to cross your heels at his ass, and sinking back into your heat slowly, so slowly, like your teasing in the car.

“Hugh,” you mutter, and fuck, he has never heard you beg.

Ransom has always loved sex, but this is different. He meets your glazed eyes with floundering blue depths and wonders why he can’t just enjoy it as basic sex anymore.

He’s always loved money, too, and although he doesn’t want to take it from you, Ran feels the weight of your charity. Money was his sun, his whole world, but it was not enough. You provide more, warmth that lets him spread out in contentment, light that keeps him from withering.

Money doesn’t need his love; it’s indifferent.

You, on the other hand, you are fucking radiant, glowing and hot with his arm tucked beneath your shoulders to grab at your hairline. He makes you look at him. Your fingernails scratch at his back while your hips grind together.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles, nose almost touching yours. “Come on, sweetheart—“ Ran drops to lave kisses down your bared throat “—one more for me.”

This time, you have no words, only grunting uh and hng as he speeds up. Your noises get higher. Ran gets rougher, a brutal rhythm for a brutal realization.

He can’t hold back when he sees you like this; he’s gonna say it.

He gets close, so very close to breaking, but you fall first.

“Please—ah.”

You fucking writhe beneath him, your whole body spasming like your silky pussy ripples over the sensitive skin of his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl.”

He has to chance meeting your eyes because he wants to see you unravel again. Ran always does whatever he wants.

He slows his hips to intermittent thrusts that sizzle your nerves over and over, pulling his arm out from under you to lift your chin. You’re open for him in every sense of the word, and he is fucked in every possible way.

He’s an amoeba of a man staring evolution in the face.

You’re his. It’s clear in the light that he owns you. He’s earned you, or at least, he’s trying to. That’s a big deal for Ransom Drysdale.

Quivering, your mouth hanging open, his thumb rolling over your swollen bottom lip, he gets one word.

“Daddy.”

Barely a whisper, partly a question, but mostly an invitation. He slides his thumb up into your mouth, only letting you suck on it for a moment before it drags out.

Ran never thought you’d ever say that. He never imagined you’d beg either. You’ve always known what you want and taken it. You have never needed anything from him.

“Please,” you say again, holding your mouth wider still.

Shit. He throbs at the prospect, and he’s too far gone to deny you this. He plants one small peck on your jaw before pulling out and clambering over your hips and chest.

“Ah fuck,” he moans when you suck on one of his balls, stroking him with a smooth and firm grip. “Love y—love your mouth…so much.”

Ran leans against his headboard, hand clamped over his trap in a desperate attempt not to blabber, but you continue. You’re in tune with when he’s ready, when you’ve taken the teasing far enough and he needs to come. His hips stutter to shove himself just a little farther down your throat. He collects his wits only enough not to choke you, muffling a cry.

You’re gentle with him as he loses his absolute shit trying to keep it together, thighs shaking, breath hindered, biting the fuck out of his hand.

“Sorry, I…” he tries.

“I…I—“ he tries again.

He just can’t fucking do it.

Ran digs his palms so hard into his eyes he sees stars. His chest is tight like it’ll explode any second. The relief of orgasm has evaporated instantly, and he just really fucking can’t.

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, shifting up onto your kneels behind him, “it’s okay.” Your warm arms encircle his chest, over one shoulder and under the other, and you pull his own pliable and ruined body toward you.

He collapses back on his heels, leaning against you.

“Hugh, it’s alright.” Your whisper makes his eyes sting. “I know.”

Ran raises his arms to hold your wrists. His head drops to kiss the back of your hand. He still stays silent.

“I know…”

Your bare legs stretch across his lap, and Ransom lets the hand warmed by his mug grasp your ankle gently. You’re off in your own mind, staring out the window of his living room, worrying your bottom lip. He watches while you don’t notice.

Ran never particularly liked the unknown, and after Harlan’s shit last night, he’s off surprises for a fucking lifetime. This, however, this with you, sitting in comfortable quiet, makes him feel perfectly at ease with an unsure future.

For someone so fascinating to him, you’re so normal.

Sure, you’re beauty trumps the view outside, you’re dedicated to your work, and you’re smart enough to run circles around anyone, but…

You’re just you, sitting with a hot drink on his couch in the morning, wearing one of his sweaters again. Could be a sixty-dollar sweater from a thrift shop—or six cents for all Ran knows about secondhand sales—or the six-hundred-dollar one that he stoopidly bought three weeks ago; it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing that matters to him now is who wears it. That garment means nothing without you in it.

You sip at your tea, and he follows, staring at you staring at the world.

You two spoke more about it last night in the dark about everything but that one little phrase that’s eating him alive, a tangled mess of yourselves and the sheets. Nothing has to change except where the money comes from. Ran gets what he’s wanted all along: control over your wardrobe and, essentially, your entire presentation to that world you’re staring out into. He is not, however, permitted to burn your favorite Little Black Dress, but for fuck’s sake he’ll get all of its seams checked and the damn thing refitted. He’s hoping if he makes enough fuss, you’ll choose to toss it just to shut him up.

Fucking rules. Ran hates rules. If you kept standards on par with your New Money maybe he’d follow your rules. He’ll get you in the good stuff: the good house with good furniture, the good clothing with good lingerie beneath, right down to the good wash and lotion.

You can keep your perfume. He likes your perfume.

Yes, he’ll get you into what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and all that implies. Ransom always gets what he wants…because you let him.

It’s remarkable what you let him fucking do, too.

He slides his hand from your ankle to your knee, knocking you out of your reverie just in time for his phone to buzz.

He holds your legs to him while sneaking a glance at the screen. Linda. Fuck no, he’s not answering that. It’s not Sunday and he’s not ditching anything. Fucking wait. Fucking choke for all he cares.

Ran instead sets his nearly empty mug down beside your two phones on the coffee table and curls up in your corner of couch. You open your arms to tuck him into your chest, and sure, it’s cutesy and gross in a way that should make Ran want to gag, but who fucking cares when he’s this comfortable. He plants a kiss right on your nipple through the knit for fun, feeling you shiver, then listens to your heart.

His phone vibrates again, dancing closer to the stoneware he just put down.

His mother’s persistence is as admirable as it is annoying. Predictably, Ran’s bored by her usual shit and ignores it again.

Instead of pushing up his sweater to wrap an arm around your waist though, he shoves his now chilly fingers between your hot thighs and sighs. His ear rings with the airy sound of your laugh through flesh.

Then your phone dings, and he just fucking knows it’s her. His groaned protest goes unheeded as you swap your mug for the device and bring it to you.

Ran snorts, and you smooth your free hand over his hair.

“Hello—“ there are harsh but restrained mumbles but he can’t make out the words “—Linda, why on Earth would I be with a man the night he yelled at me like that?”

Because you love him, Ran thinks, but he hears garbled disappointment from the other end.

“And after how your brother and his wife acted—” more rushed excuses “—I don’t have time to go around looking for your adult baby. I have work to do and a plane to catch.” There’s obvious desperation in Linda’s tone, but you don’t care. “Goodbye.”

You let your phone drop to the rug, carding fingers through his hair before finishing with little scratches. Your nonchalance is still pure honesty. You wouldn’t waste time on him, not if you didn’t want him, and you did not let him speak to you that way for more than three sentences because you knew exactly how to shut him up.

“Vicious little bitch,” you mutter.

And…in all your perfect, honest, niceness, you called his mother a bitch—not to her face but you’ll get there, Ran’s sure.

He fucking loves you. He is really so fucking in love with you that it’s fucking gross. He’s disgusted and doesn’t fucking care.

After a big sigh, your hand finds his between your legs and moves it to cup your sex. “Where were we?”

Ransom shifts up over you at the same time as you slide beneath him on the buttery leather cushions. His wildly true and blue eyes meet yours with stern sincerity.

He’s looking at everything he ever wanted, and it’s not money. There are all sorts of things he can use to survive, loads of things he can replace, an infinite amount to take, but only one you, only one complete package. Not a thing. Not replaceable. Finite. Earned. New. Fascinating. Teasing. Messy. Sexy. A total hardass badass with a great ass.

Ran lays his hand heavier on that thin layer of silk, possession laced in the caress, and the words just flow right out.

“Marry me.”

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Oh my god, gang, I can't believe I fucking did it. Truly, this fic has been one of the craziest things I've ever attempted, and honestly, I'm so damn proud. I'm proud that I wrote it, I'm proud that it's over, and I'm proud of whatever reception it gets. I murdered my soul for this and am delighted. Thank you all so much for reading!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff

[drmaddict]

Soulmate

Summary: Ransom finds his soulmate... and runs away.

Word count: 982

Warnings: fluff, use of (y/n), coffee gets spilled

Ransom hung out on the escalator leading to the upper sales floor of the bookstore, holding his coffee.

Harlan had threatened to cut off his allowance if he didn't participate more in the business, so he had to help out with the local reading.

He drank his coffee in large gulps. He wasn't used to getting up this early. No one should have to leave bed before two in the afternoon.

He grumbled into his cup. The stairs pushed him and his grandfather up.

He could see the first display tables. At the very front, a hodgepodge of Harlan's books. He let his eyes wander and suddenly the air was knocked out of his lungs. His heart stood still, yet raced twice as fast as usual. He was dizzy and the world was limited only to the inconspicuous side profile of a woman. She was standing in front of a table, looking at blind date books wrapped in brown paper.

He was so fixated on this girl - his soulmate - that he didn't notice that the escalator had ended and fell to the floor like an idiot. The rest of his coffee soaked into the carpet when he looked up.

She was looking at him. Wide eyes stared at him from an astonished face.

Fuck!

Ransom pulled himself together. His instincts took over and.... he ran. Turned around and took the other escalator straight back down.

(Y/n) looked completely overwhelmed after the blond mop of hair. So that's what everyone meant by, "You'll know when it happens." But why is he running away? He's not supposed to run away. God! What if I can't find him again?

"Excuse me, miss," a voice snapped her back into this world.

She looked beside her and gazed into an old, kind face.

"I have to-", she started, but was immediately interrupted.

"Don't worry. This is my grandson." He smiled calmly at her. "I want to apologize for him. He's not used to feelings." He smirked. "He didn't get very far. To the front door, at most."

"How would you know?"

"Because I ran away when it happend. I made it to the front door. When my wife found me, she hit me with her purse. I knew then, she's the one." He grinned. "You should know about your future, that Ransom is not easy."

Ransom... "He's not easy... But?", she asked.

"That's it." He shrugged. "He's not easy. I never was, either. Me and my wife still love each other." He smiled and pushed her toward the escalator. "Go after him."

Ransom stood in front of the building, ruffling his hair. What a fucking idiot. Who runs away from his soulmate? How do you blow something like this out of proportion? Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. The one person who would have been doomed to actually like him and he screws even that up. His mother was right.

"Ransom?" asked the hesitant voice of an angel.

He turned and there she stood. Cautiously, she approached him. As if he was a fawn and she didn't want to scare him away. He continued to stare at her like a retarded idiot.

She reached out her hand to him. "I am (y/n)," she said. (y/n).

He took in a breath to say something, but it caught in his throat. He didn't remember later how his hand had ended up in hers, but he knew that the most pathetic whimper crept from his throat that he had ever heard in his life.

He had had models in his bed. Women lay at his feet. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Okay. Maybe take a deep breath first," she smiled at him.

He gathered up the last of his pride. "You need to find someone else!", he said suddenly. Surprise was written all over her face. Her smile crumbled.

"You seem very nice.", he began.

"But you imagined something else. Sure.", she laughed sadly. "Already... Okay. Got it.", she smiled and looked everywhere but at his face. "I'll go-"

"No. I don't mean it like that!" he interrupted her immediately.

"I-" he sighed, "I come from a family full of scheming, selfish, self-absorbed assholes, and I," he pointed to his own chest, "am God knows the worst of them all." He looked deep into her eyes. "If I can do one thing for the person this fucking fate has assigned me, it's to save them from living in this nightmare. I'm a man-whore. I drink. Hell I wouldn't even be awake if my grandfather wouldn‘t cut off my allowance. I don't work. I'm a spoiled, distorted child and I have no will to change that. Find someone better."

She looked at him intensly, then shook her head. Ransom sighed.

"A coffee." she said then. He looked up.

"We don't have to - and I don't want to - get married right away, but let's at least have coffee," she explained herself. "After all, it's kind of my fault yours spilled."

Ransom turned bright red. He had hoped to appear cool in front of his soulmate, but he had fucked that up big time.

"There's a nice store around the corner," she said.

"They only have that disgusting filter coffee. Hell no." he blurted out.

She laughed. "You really are spoiled, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I'll show you a real store. While I still have money, at least I can throw it at you."

She laughed. "You got a bookworm here. You'll be poor in six months if you go through with this."

"My grandfather is reading at the store today. If you know anything about books, you know his name. I'll get you any book before it's even on the market.", he finally grinned confidently again.

She looked at him, puzzled. "I've reconsidered my opinion about marrying right away."

He grinned. "Coffee first. I want to be wooed.“

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #soulmate #soulmate au #chris evans characters #chris evans character x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #fluff

[vellicore]

Gives You Hell

Summary: Ever since your mom married his dad. Ransom has been focused on one thing, and that's you. Pairing: Step!Brother Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader WC: 249 Warnings: STEP-BROTHER RANSOM (that's a warning), step-sibling kink, dirty talk, brief mention of masturbation, Ransom being a horny little creep, hinting at future smut/sex A/N: This is my entry for the second writing challenge for The Basement Spouses. The challenge was to use the prompt “Go on. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me" and keep it under 250 words.

He is insufferable.

It was impossible to get along with Ransom. Every day it felt like his mission to get under your skin. How were you supposed to spend the remainder of winter break in the same house? It felt as if every chance he got he’d make some sort of sexual innuendo towards you. 

This had been going on since your mom started dating his dad. The looks turned into comments, and the comments turned into touches. It seemed that Ransom was determined to make his step-sibling fantasies come true, one way or another. 

The sound of your bedroom door opening causes you to look up. Of course, he’d be the one to find you like this — your hand between your legs. Immediately you grab ahold of your blanket as anger floods your veins. “I didn’t say you could come in, asshole.” You snap before tossing your pillow in his direction. “Get the fuck out of my room.” 

His smirk only seems to grow as he steps closer to you. This was exactly the kind of compromising position he hoped to find you in one day. “Oh? Where would you rather I cum? Your face? Or perhaps on your tits.” He taunts with a sick grin on his face. You’re about to scream that you hate him, but it’s as if he could read your mind. “Go on. Tell me you hate me and see what that does to me.” Maybe he would get his way after all. 

#tbswritingchallenge #ransom drysdale x reader #step!brother ransom #step!brother ransom drysdale x reader #step!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale fic

[royalsweetteaa]

Good intent

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Homeless!reader

Chapter 3

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - This story contains the following: dark themes such as kidnapping, non-con/rape, brief mention of suicide, mutual masturbation, oral sex, obsessive behavior/possessive behavior/delusional behavior on Ransom’s part, cheating, Ransom being a creep in general, toxic relationship dynamic, Stockholm syndrome on reader’s part, abuse of power, classism, size kink, manipulation, angst, a bit of sad!Ransom, eventual fluff.

Summary: Ransom is going through a life crisis where he’s miserable and he wants to change things up to make his daily life more interesting. The change involves taking the freedom of someone who he deems is beneath societal suitability.

Ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

2nd person POV

The following weeks were pretty much the same for you. Ransom would be at home with you through most of the day, excluding the hours when he had to buy groceries and necessities. You would stay at your room for a good fraction of time, but when you felt lonely you would leave and see what Ransom was up to from afar.

When you were too close to him, his eyes would wander down to your body and you knew he had lustful thoughts through the look of his eyes. He would take you at the most unexpected times and would have you pressed against the wall or on a counter to grind himself against you. It came apparent to you that he liked grabbing your breasts, squeezing them and twisting your nipples while hovering above you.

If he was really in the mood, he would make you slide your panties down so he could cum on them, - to then demand you to wear those for the rest of the day. The feeling of his sticky cum between your pussy and inner thighs made you cringe. You had more of a reason to look forward taking a shower when the evening came.

You did cry during a lot of his pouncing molestations, but you had recently gotten used to the routine. What Ransom was doing wasn’t the worst thing out there. You had heard of stories and cases of abductors keeping their victims in awful living conditions, having them tied up so that the abductor could do inhumane and violating acts against them. While it didn’t excuse Ransom’s way of manhandling you, it certainly made you feel a little bit better to think of worst case scenarios.

He had gifted you clothes, but you quickly learned his real intentions when you discovered they were rather suggestive. Your new underwear and bras were lacy and covered little. They were all of the colour white, and when Ransom first saw you in them, he had said the colour made you look pure and clean. You used to think he referred you as clean because of how you were able to shower now, and it was a way of him being derogatory over you being homeless, but you grew less sure of the meaning.

Ransom had also bought you oversized sweaters and sweatpants of his size. You didn’t know if he simply got off to you wearing something that was meant for someone like him or if it was because of easier access to take your clothes off. Maybe he was just being cheap and bought something he could easily take and wear himself. You didn’t know.

Nonetheless, your sweatpants barely held up because of how big they were, which made it easier for Ransom to just pull them down and have his way with you.

How had your life taken this drastic turn?

Today would break the streak of a routine you and Ransom had followed for almost 3 weeks now. He was leaving early in the evening for a family gathering at Harlan’s for the first time in ages, - according to him anyway.

You had learned that Ransom didn’t have the best relationship with his family either. He had told you as such when he compared the two of you one time during an intense session of fingerfucking you. You surprised yourself that you had managed to remember anything Ransom had said during it.

He put his coat and scarf on and left without saying goodbye. You were thankful he didn’t do anything before leaving. He seemed nervous, even though he tried his best to hide it. But you could tell.

You saw the way he would shuffle to spaces around the house without having any reason to be there. You concluded he was in a train of thought and was trying to gather them. You felt….bad for him.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you saw something in him that reminded you of all the times you headed home from school, mentally preparing yourself to be yelled at by your parents for nothing other than them releasing their frustration onto you.

6 hours went by and it was soon closing to midnight. You were on the sofa in the living room, watching a late night show as you snacked on potato chips. There were full stocks of them in the shelves.

Ransom had stocked up on cookies and salted goodies for you to eat when he was out. There was also frozen and canned food in the fridge but nothing fresh.

Ransom always ordered take out or bought frozen food that could easily be put in the oven and be done within an hour. It was good food and you never complained about it, but as your boredom grew, you missed cooking. Cooking always brought joy when you visited a friend and you would make your spaghetti with meatballs from scratch.

You kept in mind to ask ransom if he could buy ingredients so that you could cook something homemade for the two of you.

For the two of you.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs. You heard irregular footsteps coming up the stairs, and you were met by Ransom. The smell of alcohol made its way through your nostrils, and you knew then that he was drunk. Shit.

“Hey, kitten…enjoying the night without me?” He asked with a lazy voice. He almost tripped when passing the armchair, but he slowly made his way to you with a smirk.

“I’m just….watching some TV. I’ll be going to bed soon. You should go to bed too…” you suggested carefully.

He scoffed. “Nah, I’d rather be here with you, sweetheart. Nothing better than being with you….” He said with no shame, before he placed himself on the couch. You scooted away - a big mistake on your part.

He frowned. “Stop fucking….- moving away from me. It hurts…when you do that.” He muttered, before he laid down and placed his head on your lap, snuggling into you.

You were in shock. You had never seen Ransom in a state like this. One could almost say he was being vulnerable, but maybe it was the alcohol messing with his mind.

“I had the worst fuckin’ time ever….had the whole family screaming at me, like they always do. Telling me I’m a worthless piece of shit and how I don’t do anything worthwhile…..as if they are any better. They hog up my grandfather’s money just as much….I’m no worse of a fool, yet I get all the blame when they made me this way….I hate them so much.” He said with a shaky voice. “Had to get drunk to not have a full mental breakdown. Wasn’t the easiest, and probably not the safest to drive home but I had to…*hic*…get back to you. Couldn’t stay any longer away from you…”

You felt your sweatpants were getting moisture from where Ransom laid his head. You were confused, and so you moved your head just a little to get a better angle, and that’s when you saw it.

He was crying….

“Everyone hates me. Even you. I know you do. No matter how much I try to sugarcoat it, I know you despise me, but honestly, I’d rather have you hate me than not have you at all. I’m fucking done for if I let you walk away from me…”

You almost couldn’t believe it. Ransom had never expressed any vulnerable emotions other than anger, frustration, jealousy, lust and sometimes happiness, if you could call it that. Sadness and fear were never on the table before. Until now.

You should leave him to cry out his frustrations alone. Make him understand that there’s no use in finding comfort from you. That’s how one should normally respond to someone who has repeatedly violated one’s body.

But you don’t.You don’t have the heart to do it.

You carefully place your hand on his head, which made him shudder in surprise. You started to stroke his hair when he seemed to maintain calmness. He further nuzzled into you, wiping his tears with your sweater.

“Ransom…..” you started, before taking a deep breath. “I don’t….hate you. I don’t hate anyone.” You quickly specify. “If anything, I hate myself more because I can’t seem to put up a fight when….” You shook your head, regretting on saying anything at all. He didn’t care anyway, you thought.

He looked up at you, half smiling despite having bloodshot eyes. “You’re everything I could want..so forgiving and submissive…then there’s me who doesn’t regret taking you. I don’t regret anything I’ve done to you.” He said, before rising away from your lap. He took your hand and kissed it before looking at you with caring eyes.

“Does that make you angry, sweetheart? That I don’t regret touching you? I haven’t hurt you…I’ve been nice enough to make you cum whenever I wanted to get off with you. I’ve been nothing but nice….you just can’t seem to see that yet….“

Your eyes were burning from trying to hold yourself together. You wanted to cry so bad, but you didn’t want to show weakness anymore.

“You’re so dear to me….I think….…*hic*…if anything were to happen to you, or if I ever came home and you were gone, I’d just kill myself…” he said before leaning away and looking up at the ceiling.

Your stomach dropped and you felt sick. So many mixed emotions were contemplating from head to heart.

“You…you don’t mean that….you’re drunk Ransom…you said it yourself, I’m a nobody.”

Ransom chuckled at your doubting. “I’m an honest drunk, sweetheart… and I’m sure as hell going to regret saying all these things but it’s true…you may be a no one outside this house but you’re my whole new world, no matter how fucking cheesy it might sound. I…always thought you were the one who needed me but it was always the other way around. I realize that now.”

Your heart was beating at a pace you didn’t know was possible. Ransom turned to look at you and smiled. He patted the sofa for you to come closer to him, and you complied.

“Ransom…” you were about to ask what he was going to do, but he beat you to it. “Kiss me..” he mumbled. Before you could coherent his request, he attached his lips to yours. It was probably the most gentle kiss you two have ever shared. He held your hand and caressed it while his other hand moved to your thigh. “I need you, Y/N…” he mumbled in the kiss. He wasn’t hinting on any sexual desire this time but just pure passion.

“…I….I need you to give me a blowjob.” He whispered bluntly while stroking your knee.

You spoke too soon.

You were taken aback by his demand but not surprised. You had thought that Ransom would eventually demand to experiment more sexual deeds with you as time went by. He had been ‘kind’ enough to not engage in penetrative sex with you yet, but you knew his end goal was to do just that when the ‘right time’ came, whenever that would be. It scared you, but what was even more scarier was how the thought also gave you thrill.

“But you’re drunk Ransom…we can’t just-“

“I don’t care…I need you to to touch me this time. Suck my cock, kitten.”

Because it was less of a request and more of an order, you knew you had no choice. You sighed with defeat and nodded. “Okay.”

Ransom beamed. It was as if his smile alone was out of an achievement. It was as if to tell you ‘I won’. You hated yourself immensely at that moment.

He straightened his posture and spread his legs before looking at you. You took it as a cue to remove yourself from the couch and place yourself on the floor, slotting between his legs. He towered you from this angle.

“Go on, darling. Take my cock out like a good girl.” He taunted and licked his lips.

You looked down at his crotch area where you could see his bulge growing, and with shaky hands you reached out to undo his fly. You unzipped him and saw a few wet patches on his boxers. His cock was twitching under the restraints, almost begging to be released. You peeled off his boxers and were met by his hard red tipping cock. Your face has never been this close to it, and you were distracted by how pretty it was.

You felt your heart sink when you felt a sense of tingling - your pussy responding out of arousal at the mere sight of a cock. His cock.

Your hand wrapped carefully around his shaft, and you slowly began to pump him. His head leaned against the headrest of the sofa, letting out a sigh of relief. “There you go….fuck, I’ve been dreaming of having you on your knees for the longest time. I’ll never get this image out of my head….” He rasped.

You weren’t nearly as experienced as him, - you had figured as much, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hand stroked your hair, much like you were doing earlier.

“C’mon baby, use that pretty mouth now and suck. Want you drooling and making a sloppy mess around me.” He groaned.

You did as he said, and moved yourself closer to his cock. You gave the tip a few kitten licks before swallowing him in your mouth. His precum tasted bitter, but it wasn’t that bad. You circled your tongue around his mushroom head and gathered more spit to make it easier to take him. Your small hands wrapped around beneath where your mouth was working and you started stroking. He let out obscene moans all the while his grip around your head became rougher.

“Mmm Good girl, fuck…such a good girl for me…fucking addicted to you, baby. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? Mine to do as I please with….”

Yours thighs rubbed together as it gave your throbbing pussy some relief. The way Ransom spoke to you ignited something within you. It always had, but this time you couldn’t help but get off from only his words. His praise of your actions made you feel powerful. You liked this.

You looked up at him while forcing your throat to accept him, and you found him staring right back at you. He looked at you with absolute adoration.

“Look at you,…so pretty…you’re nothing like those whores I used to fuck…you’re so much more…” he said completely dazed out before he gripped your head and started forcing you to swallow him full.

“I’m gonna fucking cum….ah shit, you better not let any of my cum go to waste. F-fuck!~” he closed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Spurts of cum made its way to your mouth. You swallowed his spend, letting each load into your throat and down your stomach. You savored the taste, and he let go of your head so you could remove yourself and breathe. You coughed a little bit as it had been a while since you gave someone a blowjob, but you recovered quickly.

“Open your mouth..” he demanded. You opened your mouth, presenting that you had indeed swallowed everything he gave you. He smiled pleasantly. “Amazing…came faster than I usually do because you treated my dick so well..” he praised. “Want me to return the favor?” He asked with a raised eye brow.

You shook your head. “I’m tired right now, but…thanks.”

He smirked and nodded understandingly. “Come here. Let’s cuddle.”

He took you into his arms, but what you didn’t expect was to be carried. Carefully, he stumbled his way with you to his bedroom and placed you on his bed. He took off his sweater and trousers but left his boxers on. You sighed in relief as it was a huge indicator that he wouldn’t start anything. You were too tired, and he was too.

Ransom tucked you under the sheets and put it over himself as well before reaching into your touch. Your hand landed on his chest as you made yourself comfortable. Somehow, after everything that had happened, this gave you the peace you had longed for. You had forgotten yourself completely, not scared anymore of what Ransom had made you become. Ransom gave you a kiss on your temple and stroked your shoulder where his arm held around you.

“Goodnight, kitten.” He mumbled, before falling into a deep slumber.

You muttered ‘goodnight’ back, and everything went black.

You woke up the morning after, still in Ransom’s bed. Ransom wasn’t beside you anymore though. You turned to look around to find no one but yourself in the huge bedroom. His side of the bed was cold, which meant he must have left much earlier on. You sighed.

Disappointment. That was all you felt. You had lost the little dignity you had left and accepted the fact that you had grown attached to your captor. He had said he didn’t regret what he had done to you, and while it did hurt you at the moment, it had seemed he was trying to tell you he did it out of adoration for you. He wasn’t mocking you over his non-existent guilt, but rather insinuating it was with a purpose. A purpose to connect the two of you in a way he only knew how to connect.

His vulnerability yesterday made you see Ransom from a different perspective. One of a lonely and unloved rich man who took you to fill his void. You being that person to a demanding and defensive man such as Ransom made you feel somewhat special.

You hated yourself for it. You truly did. But why resist it? The feeling you were slowly getting attracted to made you feel like you could stay here and not hate it. Why push away the man who seemed to care so much about you, to the point where he would place your pleasure first before his?

You recalled the times he would touch you and feel you without thinking of touching himself. He said he knew your body too well to know it craved him. The more you thought about it, the more you concluded he was right all along. Your mind and heart was slowly abiding to your body’s cravings.

You were becoming one with your body.

Leaving the bed, you walked over to your room and had a mission of your own to look presentable. You took a shower and used the vanilla fragranced soap.It reminded you of him, so you wanted to embrace it.

You put on a new lingerie Ransom had gifted you, and put on a comfy sweater. No sweatpants this time.

When you were done, you looked around the house. You assumed Ransom went to the store because he was nowhere to be found. You wrapped your arms around your shoulder, suddenly feeling very alone.

You were scared.

You have been alone for a long time ever since you had to move out and lay in the streets. You were getting used to it, and then he came along and showered you with attention. Showed you affection like none other. You hadn’t been in a serious relationship ever, and you didn’t know the implications of it. You wondered if that made it all the more easier for you to like Ransom since you couldn’t compare previous relationships. It made you feel pathetic the more you thought about it.

You returned to Ransom’s bed and decided to curl yourself in the sheets. They smelled like him, and it made you feel flushed. You inhaled the smell once more, instinctively bucking your hips. God, you wanted him so bad.

His face. His body. His words. His smell. His taste.

You had grown addicted, you had realized. He made you drown in lust, becoming like a dog in heat. You didn’t realize you were humping against his sheets, desperate to get off. You wanted him to touch you like he had done for weeks. To take control and satisfy your body and make your head go numb from thoughts. You longed for him to tell you that he would take care of you, like your parents never did. Like your life never has.

“Oh, Ransom…” you moaned. You put his pillow underneath you and started humping it. Your hips rolled against it as you sought after the friction only Ransom could provide. It didn’t feel the same, but it still felt good. You cried out his name over and over like a chant, and when you came, you collapsed onto his bed.

A few moments later and your head was cleared from the lustful bliss. You started to cry. You were so conflicted over your feelings, and the memories of the time when you were scared of Ransom reminded you how drastically your mentality has changed.

I’m not a victim anymore. I’m just his. You thought.

Ransom didn’t return for the entire day. You had cleaned up the house, watched some TV and finished an entire book. You also put on a frozen pizza, but you had to use a regular utensil knife to cut it which was hard. Ransom had a lock on the cabinet with all the sharp objects such as kitchen knives, and oddly enough the pizza cutter. You recalled he said something about ‘refraining you from purposefully hurting yourself’ when you asked about it.

You left a few pieces for him, trying to present it nicely on the plate by the kitchen table. You were a bit nervous about Ransom’s absence, but you figured there had to be a reason for it.

Maybe he had to turn up for a family emergency. It had to be important if he had to be gone for so long.

You were in his bedroom once again, and it was around 12:00 PM you heard the upstairs floor door open up. There was silence, until you heard Ransom curse. By his stern sounding steps, he must be upset, you assumed. You heard him undress and hang his jacket on the hanger before his steps closed in to where you were.

He was just about to take off his scarf until his eyes met upon yours. He looked stunned to see you there, your upper body resting against the headboard while your legs were draped in his sheets.

His face scrunched. “The fuck are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your room?” Ransom snapped.

You were stiffened by his outburst. You didn’t expect that to be the first thing he would say after being gone for so long. “I-I just thought that…- I have been waiting for you.”

“Well I don’t want you around right now, so you can get the fuck out and go to your room where you always are. I don’t need you.”

Your heart shattered by his harsh words. How could you be so foolish?

You immediately put the book on his nightstand and rushed outside while hugging yourself.

He had sweet talked you while drunk all afternoon yesterday, and not even 24 hours later he treats you like shit. He used to play with your body and now he was playing with your feelings. What more could he want? Was he really expecting you to live like this?

Ransom’s POV

I regretted my words as soon as she left my room and ran into hers. I always had to fuck up the good things in my life, and she was no exception.

I had woken up early today to find her curled up into my chest. The morning hangover messed my head up so bad, I couldn’t appreciate the moment. Though I should have. I eventually remembered the night before, when I was heavily drunk and I let my mouth running. I talked about things I shouldn’t have said. Hell, I even remember admitting to myself that I would regret opening my mouth when I was sober again. I had fucked myself over by telling the truth I refuse to accept being fundamental.

I decided to leave and meet my grandfather - Harlan, who wanted to speak with me. We had a serious conversation where he shared his concerns about my future and place in this family. I grew angry when he mentioned he was thinking of cutting me off of the will for the sake of me getting a ‘wake up call’. I told him I had a lot to take care of at the moment which was none of his concern. He asked me if I have been gambling or was in debt, to which I said no - the rightful truth. I had no plans on telling him I had a woman at home who I was providing. She was my dirty little secret, and the word would spread some way or another if I told Harlan. The last thing I wanted was to have my family involved in my personal life.

I left Harlan, even more frustrated than before I met him. Deciding to not drive home just yet, I parked at the bar and let my temptations get the better of me. I took a shot of scotch, and eyed the drug dealer who always sat at the corner where he was barely noticed by other people. I payed him for 7 grams of marijuana, and consumed a fraction of it.

“Oh, hey Rannie!” A woman’s voice came from behind me. I turned to be met by a redhead I couldn’t remember the name of, but I remembered I had hooked up with her 2 months ago. “Long time no see! Have you missed me, daddy?”

The marijuana was taking effect on my body, the dopamine turning my mood into one that felt good. It also made me horny. Very horny.

“Let me fuck your cunt and I’ll give you an answer.”

I regret it. I regret it so bad. I thought I had bypassed my old habits but they were coming back. I felt so empty after the marijuana got out of my system, and now I was taking it over Y/N, who was finally giving me what I want. Herself.

I need her.

I need her. I need her. I need her.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. My yesterday’s drunken self was right.

An hour passed by since she left to her room. The door was unlocked because there were no locks there to begin with, but I wanted to give her space until I couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

I opened her door quietly, finding her on the floor, leaning against the bed. She sat in a fetal position with her legs close to her chest as her arms wrapped around them, her head laying low. I couldn’t see her face. I knew she knew I was in her presence, but she was refusing to look at me.

After a few moments of silence, I opened my mouth to speak, thinking cautiously of what I should say.

“Darling….I’m…” I wasn’t used to apologizing, and even now when I was desperate for her forgiveness, I couldn’t bring myself to say that one word. The word I wasn’t taught to ever use.

“Shut up!” She snapped. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Shhh, don’t shout-!” I tried to coo, but I was quickly interrupted. “Stop hushing me and telling me what to do! You’re terrible, Hugh! One day you’re being a decent person, and another day a cruel man. And I hate it! I hate what you have done to me! I hate myself for how I’m not able to fight back! I hate you!”

I stiffened. I had heard those words aimed at me by my own family so many times, yet I felt my heart sink when she said those very same words.

“No you don’t…you said it yourself, you could never hate me-!” “And you said I’m your whole new world, but I guess we just say things we don’t mean!” She interrupted once again.

“I have been feeling sick all day because I’m feeling things I shouldn’t feel! I haven’t tried to escape since I came here because I can’t fight you! You make me vulnerable and now I’m growing attached to you when a normal fucking person should never feel that way towards someone who has constantly violated them! A-And then you said all these wonderful things of how you need me yesterday - something a lover would say, and that stole my heart, but now you decide to say you don’t need me after all of this?! Why am I even here? W-What is even my purpose if I’m not supposed to be with you the whole time?!” Her voice cracked in the midst of her break down.

For once, I really did feel like a horrible person as she described it. She was pouring her feelings and admitting that she has grown attached to me, and it made me hate myself for ever opening my mouth.

“You were out somewhere doing stuff too, weren’t you? I can smell alcohol from your breath and cheap perfume coming from your sweater. Tell me, did you have a good time? Does it feel empowering knowing you can do and get about anything outside of your house and have your plaything waiting for you at home? I’m like the cherry on top of your sundae, am I right? That’s all I am. That’s what you’ve made me become. And I fucking hate you for it.”

My face turned from sorrow to anger at her accusations. “That’s not true! Don’t put words into my fucking mouth, kitten. I made a mistake, one I will regret for the rest of my life but that gives you no right to assume what you are to me! You belong here, with me. We were made for each other, Y/N, you just need to see it my way.” I defended.

You shook your head and ducked your head between your arms again. “There’s nothing to see. There’s no ‘your way’ that could possibly make this any less wrong… admit it, you’re just fucked up.”

Usually I wouldn’t let that kind of insult slip, but for once, it felt deserved. “That makes the two of us, doesn’t it? I may be messed up in my head but it’s because of you, and no one else. Just like I’ve been able to make you grow fond of me despite how ‘unethical’ my actions have been. We are both fucked up and that’s what makes us so compelling, along with our differences. You need me just as much as I need you. I’m admitting it while I’m sober.I wasn’t thinking earlier, alright?I’m truly done with life if you aren’t by my side.So please…forgive me.”

I carefully held her by the waist and pressed her against my chest, caressing her body into my own. She hit me on the chest with her fist which made me grunt, but I could easily take hits if it meant she would give into my touch.

Usually when she was in a similar state, I would respond with sex as my way of showing comfort. But this was different. I had broken her and I had to get out of my comfort zone by having to use my words to put the broken pieces back together. It seemed to work, and she even stopped crying.

Second person POV

Your closed fist loosened up soon after, and you placed it around his neck to move closer to him. You were so helpless at the moment, but Ransom made that feeling go away. He gave your back gentle strokes and kissed your shoulder.

You had seen a few movies to know this was just like how couples for life acted. Together so close in a time where it was most needed. In a time where everything hurt. He had caused you so much pain, and just like that, you were healing in his arms.

“I’m sick, Ransom…I think there’s something seriously wrong with me to be enjoying this. I should go to a therapist…and you should too.”

He chuckled at your last statement. “There’s nothing wrong, baby…nothing wrong with loving me.” He said. “I promise you, I’ll never say what I said earlier ever again. I’ll always be with you and give everything you desire. Tell me, kitten, what do you want?”

You sniffled and pondered for a moment before coming with the perfect idea. “I want to bake a pie.”

The next day would mark the second night in a row where you slept in one bed together, but this time, you found yourselves tangled to each other in your bed. It was smaller, but Ransom liked how it made him dependent on holding you so close to him, or else he would fall off the edge.

He woke up early that day, and after admiring your sleeping form for what felt like hours, he left the bed and dressed up to leave to the store. You requested the day prior on baking a pie for lunch, and you had made a list of the ingredients needed to make it. He was going to get all the things before you wake up.

Ransom eagerly drove downtown to the store, strolling through all the isles to find every single ingredient. He wasn’t used to buying ingredients as he has never bothered to cook his own meals from scratch, so it took a while for him to claim the items and check off the list.

When he drove out and cruised through the quiet streets, his eye caught a police car, where in the pavement stood two police officers talking to one of the rich old hags with their small demon dogs in their handbags. He turned his head to the road again, and that’s when he suddenly realized which street he was currently driving in.

It was the street of which he had taken you.

Fuck. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tried to maintain the same according speed. The least thing he would want to do now is to catch anyone’s attention. Let alone the police.

Maybe it’s a coincidence, but regardless, I can’t keep my guard low, Ransom thought.

When he stepped out of his car and made his way to the house, he couldn’t help but be shaken. It haunted him immensely to think he could be caught for taking you, and worst of all - have you taken away from him.

At this point, he was considering moving location to ensure the police would never find her. He was thinking of asking Y/N if she gave her location to the shelter before he took her, but he concluded it would be bad for her to know someone was looking for her at all. They were at a stage where they were only now going past being two strangers to lovers from both sides. At least Ransom liked to think you saw him as his lover by now, but it didn’t matter. They were to be whatever he wanted to label them as.

He entered the house with the groceries and walked over to your room to greet you. You were still sleeping and burying your face in Ransom’s sheets. He found it so endearing and he couldn’t help but take a picture.

Ransom then walked over to you and sat at the edge of the bed. The sudden dipping of the bed made your face scrunch in confusion and you squinted your eyes open.

“Morning, kitten.” Ransom greeted. You smiled and returned the greeting while stretching your body.

He held up the bag of groceries. “Bought the stuff you needed.”

“Oh, thank you.” You beamed. Ransom hummed in content. He wasn’t used to being thanked for doing simple things, but it was nice. So nice that each time you thanked him, he felt warm and fuzzy inside.

As he was standing up to move the groceries to the kitchen, his gaze caught up on your sudden nervous composure.

“Um, Ransom?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, was wondering if you can-……nevermind.” Your head looked to the side bashfully.

Ransom frowned at your retorting of words, but when his eyes scanned to read your body language, he saw.

Your hands were resting on your thighs as you wriggled and rubbed your thighs together. You were biting your lip and looking rather suggestive.

Oh. He knew what you wanted. It was clear as day now. And he was going to give it regardless, but only if you told him first. He wanted to hear it.

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t shy away now. Tell me, darling. What do you want me to do?”

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, but he knew at any moment you wouldn’t hold back anymore. “I-I want you to….I need you to touch me..” you said, your last words of the sentence barely audible, but he heard it. He grinned with amusement.

“Good girl.”

Ransom joined you in bed, reached out and lifted up your sweater. He was revealed with the lingerie he had recently bought you. It made his mouth water at the sight of the garment hugging your body tight like this.

“You dressed up yesterday for me, didn’t you? And I was foolish enough to deny you when you look so fucking sexy. I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I promise…”

He hunched over and peppered you with kisses. First he kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your nose. And finally, your mouth. You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to have him inch any further away from you. His hands were all over you, making you melt. You have missed this so much.

“Let’s make the both of us feel real good, baby…I’ll touch you while you touch me, okay?” Ransom suggested seductively.

You nodded feverishly and watched him undress. His cock was already hard when it sprung out of his boxers, but he kept his blue sweater on which made you pout. Ransom picked up on that and snickered.

“I know, darling. I know how bad you want to see my built chest, but m’still kinda cold from being out. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” He cooed.

You sighed. “Okay…”

“Besides, you won’t be clinging onto my chest this time. We’re going to play with each other while we sit comfortably on this bed. Remove your underwear and come to me, kitten…” he said and patted on the free spot beside him.

You removed your underwear eagerly and crawled over to him. “Aww, look at you…crawling like a little kitten to me. I’ll buy you a couple of cat ears. Bet you’d look adorable with them.” Ransom teased.

You shook your head, hiding your grin as you felt excitement. He gestured you to spread your legs while you sat towards each other, and he reached out to touch your glistening heat.

“Pretty little pussy’s dripping….it’s been a while since I treated her good…poor little thing….”

You exhaled and shut your eyes as Ransom’s fingers rubbed your cunt gently as a warm up. “I-It’s only been two days..”

“Hmm, too long if you ask me…” He inserted a finger just then which made your legs tremble. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to hold in your moans.

“Hmm…does that feel good, kitten? You love it when I touch you, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head and whispered a ‘yes’.

“I love it when you touch me too…give my cock some attention, will you? I need your soft hands so bad…”

Your hand reached weakly around his cock, and Ransom let out a deep sigh as he was finally receiving the relief he so badly needed. He thought of how the two of you could have easily done this prior if he wasn’t an idiot yesterday.

You stroked him with weak hands but soon enough gripped him firmly to give him satisfying relief. His head dipped slightly upwards as he concentrated to maintain focus on pleasuring you.

“Good girl….fuck!…that’s it…” he moaned.

You pleasured each other, touching each other’s weak spots. Ransom was working on edging you by rubbing your clit before moving back to your folds right before you reached your climax.

“…stop teasing me, I wanna cum…” you whined.

“Hmm you’ll have to convince me a little more than that, darling.” Ransom challenged.

“…Please, I need it so bad… I-I’ll swallow your cum if you stop teasing me.” you bargained.

Ransom hummed in delight of your offer. “Oh, I like the idea of that, sweetheart. I’ve turned you into my little cumslut, haven’t I?” He started to rub your sensitive pearl harshly, making let go of his dick and reached your high of your orgasm.

“Mhm! Yes!! I’m your cumslut, Ransom! O-Only for you!“ you babbled as you became cross eyed from the overstimulation. You creamed just then, making Ransom’s fingers become coated with your juices.

“There you go, kitten. Cumming like the good girl you are. Atta girl.” Ransom cooed as you mewled.

“Mmm, thank yousir…”

His cock throbbed when he heard you calling him that. It was the first time you have ever uttered something of the sort, and he hadn’t ever suggested you to use that title. It made him grow lustful as he stroked his cock, wanting to cum so bad and make you swallow his load. You were now laying on thin ice in Ransom’s book.

“Ah, so I’m sir now, baby? Is that who I am? You better show how good that tongue is right now if you know what’s good for you. Come here.”

You complied right away, crawling over to his lap and before taking him in your mouth. The salty precum which coated his whole cock pleased you taste buds. You lewdly hummed around him, sending vibrations to his spine and quickly pushing him on the edge of his orgasm.

“Aaah! Fucking hell!…” Ransom moaned, closing his eyes so tight it almost hurt as he let himself release in your mouth. He could hear you gulping his spend down your throat. Once he opened them, he saw you holding your hand under your chin as trickles of cum dripped.

“S-Sorry, I….couldn’t swallow it all….”

He grinned, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “You did good, darling. You’re dirtier than I thought. I love it.”

Your cheeks flushed at his touch, and you were overjoyed with his praises. You pounced on him which made him grunt in surprise. For a millisecond he thought you were attacking him.

But no, you were nuzzling your head onto his soft sweater. If he wasn’t mistaken, he felt almost nervous from your sudden affectionate gesture, something he wasn’t used to getting. It made him think back on when you were stroking his hair as he laid on your lap. Something you had done without him demanding you to do.

His chest was pounding from the tight feeling and he gulped subconsciously.

Is this love?

Because if it was, he hated it. Okay, maybe hate was an exaggeration. It made him feel weak, but your comfort and touch made it all worth it. He returned the gesture of stroking your hair as he leaned to breathe in the smell of vanilla lotion that still lingered in you. He could get used to this.

What ruined the moment was when he panicked of thinking you were listening to his rapidly beating heart, and he immediately pulled away to look at you. You looked confused, but Ransom covered his panic with an assuring smile.

“How about we make that pie?”

Note from author: Stockholm syndrome took off in this chapter and I’m not sorry for that lmaoo.

Hearts & Reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #chris evans #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #dark fic

[lilacevans]

𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆

𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒!𝐿𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑑 𝐻𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛 & 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒!𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑚 𝐷𝑟𝑦𝑠𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Summary: The vampires of the manor get their hands on you. Warnings: Blood consumption, Frottage, Drug Mention (But none actually consumed, just a little reference.) Word Count: 394 Notes: Requested by @biteofcherry! I hope you enjoy, my love!!&lt;3

♡ : ̗̀➛ part of the kills & kisses verse | ♡ : ̗̀➛ lila's sunday blurb night

You were straddling Ransom’s lap, your chest flush against his and your fingers gripping his hair as two sharp teeth were snug in the side of your neck. Lloyd was positioned behind you, teeth latched into the other side of your neck. Both vampires were letting out soft moans that bloomed tingles across your skin.

As they drank you down, you almost felt high; like you’d just smoked the fattest joint. Warm, fuzzy and sedated. You body felt like it was levitating as you tilted your head back a little and moaned softly into the tense, thick air.  

“Taste so fucking good, sunshine,” Lloyd rasped, intoxicated by your blood, almost slurring and dazed. “S’like the finest wine— Fuck—“ 

He let out another litter of curses before plunging his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. Their hands roamed your body, pawing at your breast, squeezing your hips and thighs, running their hands over your stomach, through your hair— You were completely enveloped by them, your body singing with every stroke of their hand and graze of their fingertips. 

“You want a taste, sweet thing?” Ransom asked before he pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your forehead, sticky with sweat and presented his wrist. You nodded dumbly; wetting your lips and shifting against his hardened cock. Ransom bit into his wrist and placed the bloodied wounds against your parted lips. 

You moaned in the back of your throat and your fingers wrapped tightly around Ransom's forearm to keep his wrist snug against your lips. You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was good about his blood, but the power and rush that came with it made it addicting. You became more and more alert with each mouthful, energy and adrenaline drumming through your veins as Ransom gasped and sucked in a shaking moan. 

You rocked your hips, your core roughly gliding against Ransom’s thick, clothed cock and your ass rubbed back against Lloyd hardening length, pulling groans from both of the men. Ransom’s blood spilled messily down your chin and dripped down to your chest.

Ransom then pulled his wrist away to swipe his thumb through the streaks that were left on your chin before pressing his thumb down on your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed out as you let out a slow moan as Lloyd reached around to rub his hand over your clothed mound.

#chris evans #cevans #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale smut #lloyd hansen smut #kills & kisses verse #lila writes #lila's blurbs #lila's concepts

[georgiapeach30513]

Inside Her Fantasy, Part 1

Summary: Ransom was a sweet playboy, and you are America's sweetheart. Two opposite people that met in an unlikely way. Things move fast when you're in the spotlight, and you fell more everyday. He was happy he had someone who he could trust with his vulnerable side. You were happy to have someone who could stand tall and not be irritated by your own fame. Fast love and living in a fish bowl isn't always easy. But can you and Ransom beat the odds?

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: fluff

Warnings:  none, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.5K

Series Masterlist

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Early morning muffled giggles, and the pitter patter of feet make Ransom stir in his sleep. His face burrows deeper into the pastel pink ruffles. Feet hanging off the edge of the bed, but his eyes remain close.

“Daddy,” a giggly voice echoes in the hallway as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Uncle Ranny is in my bed again.”

“Is he,” the big beefy man picks up his littlest daughter, throwing her in the air. “Why are you sitting in the hallway?”

“Because,” she points a finger to her bedroom before covering her mouth with her hand. “I think he has twinkle toes!”

“Not the twinkle toes! Why weren’t you in your bed last night?”

“Uhh,” she draws out, shrugging her shoulders. Usually she didn’t sleep in her room on nights before her parents had to go to the hospital. “I — daddy, I slept in Maevey’s room. And then I wake up to go play, and Uncle Ranny is drooling on my satin!”

“Oh, dear. Let’s wake Mr. Twinkle Toes up, okay?” She responds with an okay, nodding her head while he walks into the room. Ransom let’s out a loud snore, hugging onto one of the little girl’s Squishmallows, and she giggles again.

“Ransom,” her father says, but Ransom snores lower. “Ransom!” He kicks the bed, and Ransom shoots up immediately, groaning before flopping back down on the bed. “You’re drooling on the princess’ pillow.”

“Yeah! That’s my pillow. Why do you always sleep in my bed when you have twinkle toes.”

“I don’t have twinkle toes,” Ransom harrumphs, flipping over to his side. He hugs tighter to her stuffed animal, giving her a peek. “Why are you up so early?”

“You do have twinkle toes! You always drool with twinkle toes!”

“Charlie, baby, I,” he stops talking looking at his best friend and teammate before nodding his head, “Yes, princess, I had twinkle toes, and pranced right in here. I’m sorry, but I’ll buy you a new squishy thing,” Bucky clears his throat, and shakes his head. “I’ll buy you something.”

“Ahh! Daddy, I need to see Maevey. Put me down,” she wiggles out of her daddy’s arms before darting towards her sister’s room.

Bucky gives a long look to Ransom before leaning up against his daughter’s dresser. “Yeah, I had twinkle toes, which by the way, why does your wife call it that?”

“Next time we’ll tell the kids you got shit faced, and stumbled into our house because you used my kids as an excuse to call a cab for some girl of the night,” rolling his eyes, Ransom turns his back to Bucky. “You deserve more than one night stands. Ones you can look at without your beer goggles.”

“Not all of us are cut out to marry our highschool sweethearts.”

“You think it was easy for us?” Bucky sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She had Maeve when she was sixteen. Pregnant when she was fifteen, and yeah, we struggled and made it work. But you…”

“Grew up in a life of privilege. I didn’t buy my way into the NFL. I worked hard to get there,” Bucky sighs, watching his friend. It had become a frequent pattern with Ransom coming to his house to hide from his problems. The extra help with the kids was nice, but Ransom wasn’t living his life.

“Didn’t say you did. I’m saying those kids love you, and you adore them. You’re worth more than being a fake uncle,” yawning Ransom turns to look at Bucky with an unreadable face. There is zero emotions on his face as he looks at his friend. “There’s going to be some woman who the kids love, and she’s going to send you on a whirlwind. You two are going to fall so hard for each other.”

“Why are you in here, Buck?” He responds pitifully. Ransom was never much into love. It was a made up word that very few could ever hold in their hands. They made excuses and claimed they loved or were in love, but people always disappoint you.

“You’re in my house, and in my daughter’s bed. But Nixon has an appointment. We’re staying overnight, and the girls would rather…”

“You don't have to ask. I don’t want them with anyone else anyways. They’re the only women in my life that don’t make my life a living hell,” Charlie’s bedroom door squeaks open, and the little girl runs onto Ransom’s lap, while the oldest bashfully walks in. She looks at her dad before back at Ransom.

The tall man looks towards the teenager, narrowing his eyes, and pursing his lips. He’s seen this look more than once in his life. “What do you want, Maeve?”

“So, you know my favorite artist right?” Her voice is nearly a whisper. Almost embarrassed to ask Ransom this.

“Picasso?”

“No, recording artist,” she giggles, shaking her head. She whispers out your name, and looks back at her father quickly. “Umm, she’s playing Gillette tonight. Mom already said we could go, but…”

“Who is that?” Ransom asks, confused. “She…what do you mean she’s playing Gillette?”

“Well, she is the number one artist in the world right now. She’s doing this stadium tour, and she’s going to be here for a few days. I think the itinerary I got online is correct. I know you can’t always believe everything you see on the internet, but I really want to go. Charlie likes her, too,” her little sister nods her head, and whispers into Ransom’s ear about how pretty you are. “It would mean everything to me.”

“Maevey, if she’s as big as you say she is, I might not be able to get us in,” there was only one way he could get the girls in, and he really didn’t want to go down that road again.

“You’re literally the starting tight end of the Patriots,” Maeve wasn’t going to give up without a bit of a fight.

“Your dad is the quarterback.”

“And didn’t you date some…”

“Ahh! I didn’t date her! No, absolutely not,” Ransom decides quickly he isn’t going to ask his ex about tickets to one of the biggest concerts of the year. But then the littlest girl looks up at him, sweetly asking pretty please with a cherry on top, and he can’t say no.

You bite at your lip, getting a little slap on your wrist by your makeup artist. She hates when you ruin her work. Your lipstick was already on, and now she has to go back and fix it. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you hardly recognize that girl anymore. She’d been through hell recently. Bad breakups are never easy. Worse when the world can watch.

Sighing, you look towards the door. There is always something that bothers you about this talk show. She was invasive, and played up what the tabloids said. You couldn’t keep a man. You just date around to write songs. You were seeing just how many notches you could get. It was insulting.

You are sure you’re not the only woman in the world to date or date around. What you did just was viewed by the world. Growing up in front of the camera may not be ideal, but you didn’t know anything else. This life was all you knew. It gave you the world, while also taking away so much. You loved it, and feared it. You welcomed it, and also wished you could turn it off sometimes. There was never a break.

Someone knocks on the door, and whispers out your name, letting you know it was time to go on to the set of Leslie Locke. Your team always wanted you to put in a good face for this show. It was fun, and the fans enjoyed it, but too bad the press enjoyed your humiliation more.

You squint from the lights as you walk onto set, greeted halfway by Leslie when you take a seat in a chair opposite her. Her blue eyes give you a strange look, and you look out to the audience awkwardly. She was up to something. You just knew it, but what is the question?

“So you had a pretty rough start to the year,” you smile at her, and give her a nod. She was already starting in on you and your relationship. “But the good thing is I’m sure you got some good songs out of it, right?”

“I’d say most writers use their life experiences to tell a story. How is it any different than a writer of a book?” Leslie isn’t used to you snapping back. With age comes a need to protect your peace. Her mouth goes tight as she looks at the camera and then back at you.

“But aren’t authors embellishing the story?” With the breakup came a new realization that you had the power and voice. You didn’t need someone to protect you. You could do it yourself. “We all embellish. Even when I talk to my girlfriends, I’m embellishing the story.”

“So you admit that you use your songs to make yourself look better in the breakup?” She always twisted your words. It was her schtick. You smile, shaking your head no, but have no intentions of elaborating. It wasn’t worth the argument.

“Well, I want to play a game with you,” oh good grief. She loved these stupid games. “Since you’re back on the market, I thought it would be fun to show you some single men,” you turn to look towards one of the cameras with a deadpan look. “No, this will be fun. They’re hot men, just not your usual type.”

“Okay, fine,” you sigh, knowing that it would be easier just to agree.

“Good, good,” she holds up the first picture, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head rapidly. “What’s wrong with Dayton White?”

“I don’t date race car drivers.”

“You mean you haven’t, but you could?” This is a hard no. You wouldn’t date him. “Okay, what about this guy? Big, tall, buff, and he’s a boxer,” you wait a moment for her to give you a name. “This is August Walker.”

“I don’t like the mustache. I like mean without too much going on with their face. Clean cut, ya know?”

“Well, that leaves out these two. Okay, so he’s a football player,” you scrunch up your nose, already looking disgusted. Why would you date a football player? “He’s 6’5”, tight end for the New England Patriots,” not interested. “Blue eyes, all of 265 pounds of man, and a bit of a wild card,” your ears perk up because of course they do. You love those men that have that slight toxicity. They are your weakness. And you hate it.

“Completely baby faced, and he does love going out,” please be ugly. Please be ugly. “You have no idea who Ransom Drysdale is, huh?”

“Ransom?” She flips the card over showing you what he looks like, and you’re a goner. “Oh,” you stutter, trying to look away from his face. “Oh, he’s kinda cute,” the fact that he was holding a small little girl, while hugging another. It made him even more attractive, if his angelic face wasn’t enough.

“Kinda? That is one hell of a man,” yeah, he was. You can’t even imagine how big he would be next to you.

“He’s got kids?” They were adorable little girls. You didn’t think you wanted to date someone with kids, but he could be worth it. You had never dated someone with kids. No, it didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t going to date this man. You were going to look him up. Maybe check out a few pictures of him.

“No, these are his teammate Bucky Barnes’ daughters. He’s very close with the quarterback on the team,” sure he was. He didn’t have kids, that was better. You loved kids, but weren't ready for that. But him being good with kids is a good quality. “You have no idea what the QB does, huh?”

“He throws the ball? Catches it? Tackles?”

“Football isn’t your thing, I see,” she didn’t even answer the question. Fine, you made a public declaration of finding him attractive. Great. You can already see the tabloids writing some stupid nonsense. He is cute though. And somehow loving kids that aren’t his is making him more attractive. It shows he could be a father, but was smart enough to prevent it. Ugh, you can’t be thinking about things like this. You just know his name. But a name is a start. No! Not this one. You will not fall into this trap again.

Maeve plops down on the couch, sighing as she looks out the window. Ransom was running late, and that only meant one thing. She wasn’t going to the concert tonight.

“Maevey!” Charlie says, bouncing on her older sister’s lap. “Don’t be sad. Uncle Ranny is watching us tonight, and she’ll be at Gillette tomorrow night, too. Can we make bracelets again?” Maeve wants to say no, until she sees her sister’s dark green eyes pleading up at her. “Pretty please?”

“Fine, go get the stuff. I’m sure Ran will just have pizza delivered. And…we’ll watch her interview on Leslie Locke’s today,” it wasn’t the same as actually seeing you in concert, but it would be fine. Maybe you’d talk about some upcoming music. Maybe you’d talk about a new project.

Charlie runs into her room to grab up her beads and elastic. Anything to play and spend time with her big sister. Bringing it back with the biggest smile on her face.

By the time Ransom walks into the house, he gives Maeve a regretful smile, shaking his head, “Maeve, I did try. Me and Candy didn’t end well, so I didn’t think she would help me out. And hey, your dad is the QB, shouldn’t he be able to help?”

“They’re sold out,” her voice is flat as she returns to stringing on a bead. “She’ll be on Leslie’s soon.”

“Leslie Locke’s?” Ransom groans, sitting on the floor with the girls. “All that woman wants to do is hook people up with another celebrity. She’s obnoxious, but she asks questions that nobody wants to ask. You guys really watch that trash?” Maeve shrugs her shoulders, adding another bead to her current bracelet. “What is this?”

“I love friendship bracelets! Here, Uncle Ranny, you start one. You gonna get twinkle toes this weekend?” Snorting, he shakes his head no. Giving a groan when the Leslie Locke theme song plays in the background. It is like he was getting irritated by just the thought of having to hear her voice. “I like when you get twinkle toes. It means we’re going to wake up with you here.”

“I’m here now to watch you because,” he pauses, looking up at Charlie whose eyes darken a moment. “Nixon will be okay. They think there’s a new…”

“Ran, don’t,” Maeve pulls Charlie over into her lap, giving her tiny sister a kiss on the head. “He’s going to be okay, sissy.”

“Of course he is, princess. Nixie boy is going to be so strong, and going to be the best linebacker that the east coast has ever seen,” reaching out his hand, he gives the little girl a tap to her nose, “I promise, Nixon will be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Hey, look! Maevey! There she is. Oh, she’s so pretty, huh, Uncle Ranny?” Both girls turn to look towards Ransom, and he is only staring at you as you wave to the camera. Giving the audience the prettiest smile. He’s notices the fake smile you give Leslie. He’s done it a few times.

“What do you think?” Maeve leans towards him, bumping his shoulder. “You have just as much chance as those normal people. But she has this tendency to,” Maeve’s words turn into mush as Ransom watches you. He hadn’t ever seen anyone more beautiful. He isn’t sure why he hadn’t ever thought to look you up. Especially when there was the rumor you would be singing at the Super Bowl.

Your fake little giggle as you look at Leslie is even adorable. He isn’t paying attention to whatever little game Leslie is playing with you until Charlie sees it.

“That’s me!” Charlie shouts, jumping out of her sister’s lap. “That’s me! Maevey, she’s looking at us.”

“Oh, my god,” Maeve chokes out, hearing you mention how Ransom was cute. “Oh my god! She’s seen my face. She…she’s — Ransom, do you understand what this means?” Ransom can’t think of anything other than the fact that you are staring at a picture of him.

“I have an idea. Ran, I have — Ransom Drysdale! She’s going to be at the children’s hospital before her concert. Ransom! Ransom, pay attention to me.”

You thought he was cute. You smiled a genuine smile looking at him. His phone hadn’t rang. Leslie wasn’t trying to put her meddling nose where it didn’t belong. He could call his people, and get them to call your people. This could work. One date. One night.

“Ransom!”

“What?” He asks, finally looking at Maeve.

“I have an idea, and you won’t have to get anyone’s teams involved. It would just be you and her. It’s perfect, and she loves simple things. She loves little sneaks. And I think she kinda liked the idea that you don’t have kids, but you’re around them. Ran, I know what we need to do.”

Performing was the easy part of your career. Having moments to tell your stories with a guitar in your hand. Nothing else matters. Just you and the movement of the lyrics. Looking up to see the children’s faces makes you smile.

You wanted a family. One day you would have some of your own. Even though you’re sealed up in a studio alone, this is one of your favorite crowds to perform for. Big beaming smiles as they hang on to every word that you say. They always called you powerful, but they were the powerful ones. Always able to have a smile on their face.

Smiling despite whatever was going on in their lives. Enjoying life regardless of what their diagnoses were. Simple. Peaceful. Looking back down at your guitar, you close your eyes for a moment, and just feel the music. Everyone always had something going on in their life. Money couldn’t buy you everything. Definitely couldn’t make bad stuff from happening to you.

Opening them back up, you look out into the small audience and choke. Having to look away from the handsome man that was standing in front of you. You had only just seen him in a photo recently, and there he was. It was like the clouds had opened up, and the sun shone right on him. His blue shirt setting off his eyes even more. And those jeans made his legs look days long. He is staying casual, even a brand new pair of Nikes on. He wasn’t even remotely your type, and still you feel drawn to him.

“Uncle Ranny she saw you,” Ransom shakes his head no. He imagined the crack in your voice when you looked up at him. He has to hold Charlie up, so she could actually see over the crowd in front, and Maeve leans over on his shoulder. “Yeah huh. She did. Or it was me.”

“It was definitely you,” Ransom responds without looking away from you. You looked delicate in that room all by yourself. Strumming on a guitar and peaceful. He didn’t have the best reputation in the NFL. The reputation of a perpetual playboy. Love them and leave them, so if you wanted to even talk to him, you would have to accept that. And from what research he did on you, any male in your vicinity was automatically your Prince Charming.

Two people from very different careers, and rumors that ruled your careers just as much as your talent. The rumors aren't always true. Some nights Ransom doesn’t even go home with those women. He crawls into a tiny little twin sized princess bed with pink ruffles. The tabloids could write what they wanted to. But this — this is an intimate setting, and he’s never seen anyone more beautiful than you.

You might not realize it, but you look at each child that is watching you perform. Giving them a moment of joy. There are no cameras, and nobody to see what you’re doing but these kids and family. And then he realizes he must look like the biggest asshole because he was here.

“We should go,” he whispers, and he swears he sees you shake your head no. Could you read lips, and were you asking him not to go?

“No, we can’t,” Maeve whispers, her eyes staying on you the entire time. “You have to give her what you made.”

“Maeve, this is silly,” she gives her quasi uncle a quick pinch on his forearm. Something she’s done most of her life. Her silent way of letting him know that she wasn’t going to change her mind, she needs to see this through. “I can just get…”

“She doesn’t like setups like that. She wants things to be organic.”

“I showed up at the children’s hospital to see her,” and saying it out loud sounds even more absurd than it felt. He was crossing a line by coming here.

“You are just bringing us to our parents, so we can check on our little brother because he’s going to have another surgery. This is as random as you can get,” Maeve’s words stop in her mouth as you smile at the three of them. Your eyes looking back to the kids in the front. You aren’t sure why they are there, but you aren’t entirely upset about it either.

He looks more handsome in person. And the way those girls are so comfortable with him. A quick Google search told you how close he was with his QB. How he spent a ton of free time with him, and his kids. You hope that they linger. You always want to give time to everyone before they are shuffled back into their room. Hoping a smile towards them, and holding up a finger, asking them to give you a minute will be enough.

You know it isn’t going to be long before you are going to be ushered away in preparation for the show. Taking a deep breath, you go to hug each and every one of them. Watching your PA from the side who is constantly checking on the time. Hopefully Ransom and his nieces understood it wasn’t being rude. She was always conscious of your time.

As soon as the last person is pulled away from your side, you stand up straight to look at Ransom with whatever smile your social battery will allow. Your PA says your name, and motions you with her head it was time to leave, “Give me ten more minutes?” She looks at Ransom and the girls, and holds up her whole hand. Five minutes was better than nothing.

“So,” you huff out walking towards them. Having to gulp when you realize just how massive Ransom is. No wonder the little girl looked tiny in his arms. “Uh,” you giggle, not knowing exactly what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“My brother is here,” the oldest girl blurts out, and pulls at Ransom’s arm. “He has something for you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes. You do. He’s on the Pats. He tried to get tickets to your show last night, but they were sold out. I’ve always wanted to see you. I’m your biggest fan. My little sister, Charlotte, loves you, too. She’s just four, so she doesn’t understand all the lyrics. But I do. I love how you kinda tease your fans, and give us little Easter eggs in anticipation for your next album, or sneak things into your videos. It’s so cool,” panicking she looks up at Ransom. Realizing she had word vomited all of that to you. This wasn’t how she imagined meeting you would go.

“Maevey, breathe,” the little girl giggles, before hiding her face on Ransom.

“She talks a lot when she’s nervous,” Maeve gives him a pinch to his arm, and if you weren’t standing right in front of him, laughing a tiny bit, he wouldn’t do what he was about to do. “I did try.”

“Well, what if I told you that I have a few extra tickets to the show. I always ask for a box at these stadium shows to stay empty for me just in case. It’s still empty,” both the girls squeal, and Maeve tugs on Ransom’s arm a bit. “I should probably go, honestly. But…I’ll have my people call yours?”

“Uhh…where is,” You point over to a few hidden areas in the hospital. You had people everywhere. He’s sure most are for security. But still one could figure out what it was Ransom needed to do to get to the stadium. Maeve gives him another pinch to his arm, and he grunts as you start to turn around.

“Uh, me and the girls, we uh — we made you something.”

“That’s adorable,” you preen, looking between both of the girls. Ransom reaches his giant hand into his pocket, and pulls out a crude bracelet.

“We made friendship bracelets last night instead of watching your concert. I just brought them here to see their parents and baby brother.”

“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you’ve had sweet things given to you. But there is something about envisioning this man on the floor with two girls, and making a bracelets with those thick fingers. “Thank you. Honestly, I want to see you guys in the box tonight. Jared will get you all the info that you need.”

“Yes. Yes, you will. Ransom has nothing to do. Nothing at all,” you liked the teenager with him. Even when nervous, she still said what she thought.

Ransom sighs as you walk away. Thankful you hadn’t looked at what the bracelet said while you were in front of him. He could breathe again, but you couldn’t. Walking with your PA, your fingers play with the bracelet until you are helped into your car.

“June, he’s so hot. Like hot hot obviously. He’s so big and wide, and the way he delicately held Charlotte? Oh my god. That was the sweetest thing, and I need them at the show tonight.”

“Don’t let him be a distraction.”

“I won’t,” you roll your eyes, finally giving the bracelet a look. He was smooth. You stuff it back in your pocket. Smiling from ear to ear, and knowing that when you go alone, you were going to pick up your phone, and make sure that he had your number, too.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @fenixstar @astrorogers @musingsfromthemitten @patzammit @stillthatbetch

#inside her fantasy #ransom drysdale #football player!ransom drysdale #football au #football alternate universe #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #chris evans #chris evans character

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - ransom realises there is one sexual experience he hasn't done yet and decides he'll get it over with before anyone finds out about it.

warning - smut, gloryhole, daddy kink, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Ransom slams the door as he exits his car, his face set in a permanent scowl, “Fucking family.” He huffs, wondering when they will finally get hit by some sort of disaster, wiping them off the face of the planet. Ransom stuffs his hands into the pockets of his expensive coat, walking toward the brightly lit building. Ransom was known to be adventurous, especially when it came to sex, he had done nearly everything, so to learn he’s never tried a gloryhole before was absurd, and he couldn’t have anyone finding out about it. 

He grunts as he opens the door, quickly pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe whatever germs that could’ve been on that handle. Ransom walks over to the counter, leaning against it and giving the woman behind it a smirk. “Hello, sweets. I want your best girl.” He pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and slams it down, winking as she points him to the room. Ransom saunters down the hall and enters the room. 

He looked around, being assured that these were the best in the business. Ransom walked around the room, checking out each woman, shaking his head when he didn’t see one he liked. He didn’t want his first experience to be horrible. He wanted the best. He paid for the best, so he should receive it. When his eyes landed on you, he knew you were perfect by how his cock twitched, swelling rapidly beneath his pants. 

Ransom walks closer to your hole, grunting at the sight of your glistening cunt, enjoying how you are already lying on your back, his favourite position. He loves to watch the bulge appear in women’s tummies as he fucks into them. His thick member splitting and stretching them open, and he groans as he imagines what you would look like. “You’re a pretty sight, sweetheart. Are you ready to be split open by Daddy? You’ll definitely be begging for more, cockdrunk, from being fucked by me.” 

You shake your head, smiling slightly at his words. You’ve dealt with many men, ranging from soft to sweet to cocky to downright rude. He was definitely in the cocky department, but you decided to give him a chance. You weren’t going to lie. His words made you drip. “Show me what you got, Sugar. I don’t think I quite believe you… I’ve had a lot of men promise me a good time.” You smirk, wanting to mess with him a bit to see if he’ll either get angry and storm off or follow through with his promise. 

“Oh, sweetheart… You should know that you don’t mess with Daddy, or he won’t let you cum.” Ransom growls, pressing his clothed bulge against your dripping cunt, not caring in the slightest if your juices stain his expensive slacks. His finger traces up your leg, tapping against your thigh. “You want to cum, don’t you?” You throb, face heating up as he speaks. His hand slaps your sopping cunt, causing you to squeak. “Speak slut.” 

“Yes, yes! I want to cum, please!” You couldn’t believe you were already begging, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Ransom smirked, moving his hands to the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his thick, throbbing member. He strokes it, twisting his wrist and swiping his thumb across his leaking tip. Ransom eyes your cunt, watching it slicken even more as you listen to him touch himself. 

He rubs his mushroom tip through your folds, collecting your arousal before pushing in. Ransom groans, wondering how the fuck you could be so tight when you work at a place like this. He grips your hips, bottoming out inside you. “Jesus, sweetheart.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits your cervix, stretching you wider than anyone else before. “After I’m done with you, you won’t want anyone else.” Ransom pulls you closer, setting a pace, thrusting hard and fast. He grunts when he sees the bulge forming, his thick tip pounding into you, hitting spots that have never been hit before. 

“I’m yours! I’m yours! Oh, god!” Your head flies back, arms flying upwards and clutching the pillow underneath you. Your body moves up and down the bed, legs falling open for the man to continue to use you. You felt so close already, the band inside of you begging to snap. Your legs wrap around him, bringing him closer, needing to feel every part of him. “Please let me cum!” 

Ransom moans, eyes slipping closed as his head tilts back, feeling your walls throb and pulsate around him. “Fuck, sweetheart. Are you sure you’ve been good enough?” He squeezes your hips, pounding harder into you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. His hand moves between you, locating your puffy clit, rubbing and pinching it. 

“Yes! I’ve been so good, please!” Your screams bounce off the walls, feeling yourself throb like crazy. Your cunt swallowing his cock deeper, back arching. “Please!”

“Cum, slut.” Ransom growls, thrusting faster, rubbing your clit. “Cum for Daddy.” 

“Daddy!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your vision becomes white as the most intense orgasm washes over you, your juices squirting out and covering the mystery man’s expensive clothes. Once your orgasm has passed, you sag into the bed, letting out soft moans as he continues to destroy you.

“Fuck, you dirty slut! You’ve ruined my clothes.” Ransom growls, fucking into you roughly, feeling his balls tighten and his tip swell as his cock throbs. “I’m gonna paint your pretty walls with my cum.” You moan as thick spurts of cum shoot out of him, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. Ransom doesn’t dare rest his head on the wall before him, not wanting to catch a disease. He pulls his softened cock from your used hole, tucking it back into his slacks. “Your pretty little pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum.” 

Those are the last words you hear out of the stranger’s mouth as he turns and leaves. Ransom places his sunnies over his eyes, ignoring the woman ogling him at the counter and heading back outside to where his car is parked. He knows he’ll be back. You were worth his money, and maybe one day he will get you out of The Strawberry Shack and take you home, making you his own personal slut. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #the strawberry shack #ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans drabble #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic

[syntheticavenger]

tabloid junkie

A big thank you to @cocobutterqwueen​ for her help on this!

Ransom Drysdale x Female Blogger Reader

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, a little world building, some guest stars from another world, socialite behavior.

Summary | After a post goes viral for Ransom Drysdale’s impromptu exit from a party, it should be no cause for concern for the secretive but popular blog that leaked the information, save for the popularity amid the anonymity of who posted the news. Until Ransom decides to take it personally and teach you a lesson once he finds out who is behind the screen.

“Ransom,” Antonia whispers, her eyes focusing on the title of the post, reaching for the sleeve of his jacket.

“Not now,” he barks back in reply, a fixed smile on his face after he’s bared his teeth at his assistant. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“But Ransom -”

“Deal with it,” comes his final warning. “Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

He’s gone before she has a chance to warn him, unceremoniously screenshotting the post to attach it to her scathing reply that she’s already drafting in her head. The post is racking up likes and shares right before her eyes, muttering her disgust at how quickly other publications are picking up the article.

It’s from a random blog, one that doesn’t drop major information on the regular. Almost an afterthought until it raises something from the deep or gets handed their information right from the source.

Before she even has a chance to form the post in her email, her phone rings, his manager’s name popping up, her heart skipping a beat.

“M-Mr. Ren,” Antonio gulps. “How… how are you?”

“Ransom Drysdale unceremoniously removed from The Poinsettia.”

There’s a long pause, one that she knows she should wait for but the anxiety to have an answer makes her forget her place.

“I assure you, Mr. Ren -”

“Seen with my own two eyes,” he continues, his voice louder, pointed with every word. “I’ve never seen anything so humiliating. Word on the street is that he won’t be snagging an invite to the prestigious opening of Landmark. Couldn’t. Be. Me.”

Antonia gulps, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I can explain this,” she starts.

“You have thirty seconds to tell me why a goddamn blogger knows about this and I don’t. What even is this shit? Couldn’t Be Me? That’s what’s getting the news now, Antonia?”

“I assure you, Sir, I saw it while we were doing his photo call and I promise you,” she swallows hard, tearing the phone away from her ear to see the post racking up more views, squeaking in despair. “I’ll make sure it gets taken down.”

“That’s not what I asked you. I asked why I wasn’t notified. You’re his assistant. Why weren’t you assisting him with saving face? Does he know about this?”

“Not exactly.”

“You goddamn idiot,” Ren hisses. “Fix this and fix it now. The Landmark invite is paramount. They find out and he’ll get uninvited. That means it’s your ass and mine. Fix. This.”

He hangs up without a word, Antonia nibbling on her lip, spying Ransom looking at his phone.

Within seconds, she’s aware he can see it, brows pinching together, eyes lowering and a flush coming over his cheeks. His mouth moves as he reads, his head shaking, fingers gripping his phone tight.

“Are you shitting me?!” comes his bellow of outrage, his makeup artist balking as she takes a step back from his rage. “Antonia!”

“I see it, Ransom,” she answers meekly, intentionally not showing him her phone. “I assure you, I’m handling this right now.”

“Who the fuck does she think she is? I got thrown out? It was to keep that idiot Tangerine and his brother from causing even more of a scene so that none of us were thrown out. I left!”

“I know that,” Antonia tries to soothe, knowing she isn’t going to get anywhere with the level of anger Ransom is at.

“I’m going to bury her.”

“But you don’t even know who she is. Just some random blogger who happened to get an invite to the party.”

Ransom scoffs at her reply, lifting his head for a moment, closing his eyes to center himself. The deep inhale doesn’t give her any sense of peace.

He’s concocting a plan.

“I think we should just have your publicist give a reply and be done with it. It’s a dumb blog, Ransom. We can bury it.”

“Oh, I want to do more than bury it,” Ransom answers, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I’m going to annihilate her.”

-

1 million likes, 425K shares.

You’ve broken a record that you never even set for yourself. As gratifying as it is to see the amount of numbers that continue to climb, you’ve been deleting comments that have painted you as a harbinger of death to Ransom Drysdale’s playboy lifestyle. Some comments you’ve kept up to amuse yourself, the indignation of a keyboard warrior smashing their insults into one long comment laden post makes for good reading when you need a pick me up on a long day. The threats on the other hand, are boring and sometimes a little worrisome but your anonymity has always been your strong suit and with your various VPNs, there hasn’t been an issue of anyone finding out what you do in your spare time.

It isn’t your fault you happened to be at the right place at the right time. Two Englishmen arguing over a girl that was hanging over Ransom, drunkenly challenging him as he laughed right in their faces. A missed fist to Ransom’s face and horrible insults lobbied their way only made it worse.

So some liberties were taken with what you actually saw. What you did see was Ransom leaving without his new date, still leveling slights in their direction, flipping them off before security came to break up the argument.

Deep into your post, the sound of a commotion barely registers until you look up at the people walking toward the lobby, hushed voices getting your attention.

“Are you coming?” Denise asks, stopping at your cubicle. “I thought you’d be first in line.”

“For what?” you ask, unaware why her eyes are so wide with awe. “Did I miss something?”

“Uh yeah. Ransom Drysdale is here.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach, peering up at her.

“Here? Why?”

“Who knows. But he’s here.”

“No, I’m good. I need to head out anyway,” you lie. “Tell me all about it later?”

“Sure. Suit yourself.”

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fic

[writing-for-marvel]

Your Hand In Mine

Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ransom was never a physically affectionate person, at least, not until he met you.

Prompt: @suck-tember day 1 prompt ‘fingers’

Warnings: strictly 18+ only, NSFW, fingering, semi-public sex. TRIGGER WARNING: mention of Ransom’s parents being neglectful and physically abusive. Mention of drugs and alcohol - not consumed by reader. Ransom is fairly soft in this

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: so I know it’s not focussed on oral fixation as intended for @suck-tember, but the prompt inspired this idea so I ran with it. Banners by @maysdigitalarts, dividers by @silkholland

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Ransom Drysale was always someone who liked to keep to himself.

Not that he didn’t enjoy going out, being the life of the party, managing to spend a regular person's yearly wage in one night, or arguing his opinion with anyone who was willing to take the bait.

But in the sense that he enjoyed his physical space.

He was smart enough to realise it was probably rooted in his parents not showing him physical affection as a child - no hugs goodbye, no forehead kiss goodnight, not even a damn high five for a job well done in school.

The only time his parents ever touched him was if he was being dragged somewhere didn’t want to go, their hands in a vice around his arm as he wailed and cried, like the spoiled brat they incessantly told him he was. His father sometimes resorted to physical punishments to prevent his weeping, regularly enough that Ransom quickly learned not to resist their demands, to simply go along with it if he were to avoid their punishment.

And with his compliance, went their last reason to touch him. Though, Ransom was thankful for that.

As he got older, Ransom’s aversion to physical affection born solely from innocent, non-sexual intentions only grew stronger.

Wherever he went he’d see couples interlocking hands, using any excuse to hold each other, sit in each other’s lap, mindlessly fiddle with the other's fingers, placing chaste kisses to foreheads, shoulders, hands.

Why would people want that? Why would you go out of your way to spend more time in connection with someone than you had to?

Ransom was by no means averse to some physical forms of intimacy - having a woman in his bed for the night who could wet his dick provided far greater pleasure than his own hand could. His body had figured that one out for himself.

But that was all about his own sexual release. It had nothing to do with romantic feelings, affection or comfort. Nor the satisfaction of his partner in those carnal activities. It was purely about himself.

How selfish.

Well, he was a Drysdale after all.

Nobody expected anything more of him.

And then he met you.

Your compassion for others were second to none, and even though Ransom had never done anything in his pampered and overindulgent life to deserve any sympathy, you showed him incomparable kindness nonetheless.

If Ransom wanted something, he got it. Friends and strangers alike never said no to him, not with the wealth and stature his family notably held. That same status was something you didn’t place importance on - you treated everyone the same regardless of their background or what material items they could offer you.

Most were too scared to call Ransom out for his bullshit, so he continued to toy the line to see what he could get away with - it was all a game to him, knowing his family money could buy him out of any real trouble he found himself in.

However, you were different. You told him off when he crossed the line. Held him to a higher standard than he held himself. For some strange reason, which Ransom couldn’t fathom, it seemed that you wanted him to be a better version of himself than the spoiled narcissist his parents had raised.

That intrigued Ransom. Mostly because society viewed him as purely the wealthy enabler who paid for everyone’s night out, but that’s where their attachment ended. He knew he was only tolerated because he funded lavish parties, supplied the alcohol and facilitated his so-called friends' drug habits - if it weren’t for that, he’d just be the dickhead nobody liked.

You had this endearingly inspiring quality about you which always made him feel like he could do anything, including improving himself to be more than just the pampered, pompous rich boy.

And he found that he wanted to. For you.

You would later tell him it was his courage and resolve to better himself that really made you fall for him. And though Ransom rarely felt shy, he was apprehensive to inform you that you were the reason he tried in the first place. Because that would mean admitting not only were you the only person on the face of the earth who actually gave a damn about him, but also the way he felt about you was developing into a deep fondness he was unable to control.

In most contexts Ransom was usually the person in charge, directing what needed to happen and when. Yet, when it came to his relationship with you, you were the one who instigated everything.

His lack of experience in affairs born of the heart rather than pure lust, made him feel like an insecure, inexperienced teenager. Yet you were always patient with him, which only resulted in his ever growing attachment to you deepening.

With a romantic relationship came expectations of chaste physical intimacy, and that perhaps more than anything scared Ransom. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind wanting to be close to someone in that way, and with the deficiency of experiencing any physical touch his whole life, he was concerned he may never be able to provide that for you.

He felt comfortable enough to express this worry to you, and with the unparalleled empathy you possessed, you promised him to start off nice and slow.

You were both attending a book release for his grandfather when it happened for the first time. In tedious discussions with relatives who Ransom had completely forgotten how he was connected to, you inconspicuously reached over and interlocked your pinky with his.

That’s all it was. Just his smallest finger connected with yours. And yet he found himself never wanting to let go. That one minuscule act, that seemed at least outwardly to not affect you at all, had Ransom’s entire body paralysed.

You must have sensed his rigidity beside you. When you looked up at him, all wide eyed and believing you had done something wrong, moving to pull your hand away from his, he clamped his hold on your pinky even tighter.

Ransom wasn’t quite sure why he felt that if you were to let go his whole life would crumble before him. It seemed a drastic overreaction to a simple caress of fingers. But he felt that way deep in his chest nonetheless.

You must have been able to read his intent from the expression on his face - you were always good at doing that - because instead, you smiled up at him, scrunching your nose in the adorable, involuntary way he adored, and kept your finger joined with his for the rest of the party.

Ransom tried to not let the thought of innocently touching your hand consume him, but he failed miserably. He had previously only ever experienced repulsion at chaste touches, and yet he welcomed your touch so freely, only wanting to experience more of the warm sensation.

It wasn’t until two weeks later, while having Sunday family dinner at his parents house, that you chose to perform a similar action.

His mother was on a tirade about certain members of the family whom she didn’t approve of, something she ended up doing when she had one too many glasses of wine, when your name fell from her lips followed by the words ‘gold digger’.

Ransom’s hands were immediately clenched in fists, and rage boiled so fiercely within him that he wouldn’t be surprised to see steam billowing from his ears. He opened his mouth, ready to return the attack when it happened.

Your soft hand pried his fist open, nestling yourself between his fingers. You barely looked down at where you now connected with him, instead choosing to look deep into his eyes as if to say ‘she’s not worth it’.

He could feel his heart rate immediately start to slow down. The anger which had been ferociously bubbling in his chest now felt like barely a ripple.

All because you touched him.

Not sexually. Not in the sensual, teasing ways your hands would roam his body when you wanted him to fuck you.

No, not like that at all. You were simply holding his hand with no additional motivation. You were gaining nothing from this exchange, the act was solely for Ransom’s benefit. Interlocking your fingers with his and affectionately rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, as if it were the most normal and natural thing you could do.

And that’s when it all finally clicked in Ransom’s brain.

The reason all those lovey dovey couples that annoyed him everywhere he went couldn’t get enough of holding each other - why they’d use any excuse to be connected with their person.

Comfort. Support. Security.

The people currently in the room with him had provided the opposite of that his entire life - they had only caused him anguish and loneliness. It was all he was used to, and yet with a gesture as simple as holding hands, he knew for a fact he had found that solace with you.

Linda across the table repeated his given name a couple of times in the scorchingly frustrated way only she could manage when directing conversation at the son she regretted having. However, Ransom was too caught up in his body’s reaction to your affectionate touch to give a shit about his mother at that moment.

The table went silent as Ransom finally stood and declared “eat shit, we’re leaving.”

Heads held high, you walked side by side out of the hostile house, Ransom not letting go of your hand until he opened the passenger side door of his car. As soon as he let go, a feverish tingle rushed up his arm which he suspected only your touch could soothe.

“Thank you.” Ransom breathed out. Somehow the air in his small car wasn’t as stuffy as it was inside his parents' giant house. Ransom couldn’t remember the last time he thanked someone, if ever. Yet the words felt right in his mouth when you were the one he was thanking.

“You’re welcome, Ran.” You returned, seemingly knowing exactly what he was thanking you for without him needing to say it aloud.

As if to make him fall even harder for you right then and there, you chose that moment to yet again join your hand with his, and place a kiss to his knuckles. A warm, fuzzy feeling erupted in Ransom’s chest, one he knew for certainty he had never felt before.

It concerned him for a moment that possibly he was having heart palpitations, or an anxiety attack. But perhaps what startled him the most was that this feeling was actually a surge of love and devotion to you.

He had never loved someone before.

But when he looked into your eyes, he was sure. He could see his whole life in front of him. He never thought finding someone who would put up with him for longer than a night would be on the cards for him, and yet here you were, sticking by him even when you knew the dark and ugly parts of him.

It was both exhilarating and terrifying that for the first time in his life, there was someone more important to him than himself. Someone he wanted to truly be better for.

“Let me thank you properly.”

Without thinking, or even really knowing how he managed it in his small car, he shifted you from the passenger seat onto his lap, pulling you into a bruising kiss.

Ransom felt an inherent need to pleasure you with his fingers, the same part of your body which you had used to provide comfort to him earlier. Pushing your skirt up over your thighs, his hand instinctively reached for the damp patch already forming on your panties.

“Please Ran, please. I need you.” God you sounded so desperate, and that only turned him on even more.

Ransom wasn’t about to deny what you wanted when you asked so politely. Pushing your panties aside, he coated the tips of his fingers in your slick before slipping his middle finger into you. He could tell at once it wasn’t enough by the way you wiggled your hips eagerly to increase friction.

“Such a needy girl aren’t you?” He asked before generously adding an extra finger, your grateful groan in appreciation making his dick twitch. “Look at you, my gorgeous little slut creaming on my fingers right outside my parent’s house where they could see us. You like that, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod when Ransom used his thumb to draw small circles over your clit while simultaneously scissoring his fingers inside you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

Unlike with his previous sexual partners where all Ransom was concerned about was his own orgasm, being knuckle deep inside your pussy was about your pleasure.

Did the sight of you whimpering above him, feeling your soft walls fluttering around his fingers make him painfully hard? Absolutely.

But this wasn’t for him. This was all for you.

He continued to relentlessly thrust his fingers inside you, instinctively curling them to brush over the spongy spot that had your thighs quivering, relishing the moans and whines slipping from your lips right beside his ear.

“I love all those pretty little sounds you make.” Knowing he was responsible for every breathy gasp, every whimper trickling from your lips only fueled him to pump his fingers faster, to hear more of them.

As he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, Ransom could feel your grip on his shoulders tighten and your pussy squeezing his fingers gloriously.

“Shit, right there! Oh God, Ran, I’m gonna cum.” Your head fell to rest your forehead against Ransom’s shoulder, fingers tugging at his hair and though your eyes fluttered shut in pure ecstasy, he couldn’t take his eyes off how beautiful you looked.

“That’s my good girl. Let go baby, I got you.”

Your entire body shuddered as the wave of your orgasm overcame you, crying out an incoherent combination of curse words and his name as your gushing climax coated his hand and the front of his pants. Though, Ransom didn’t relent the pace of his pumping fingers until he was satisfied that you had fully come down the other side of your high.

The dazed smile you shot him once you managed to sit upright in his lap again mesmerised him. In that moment all he wanted to do was give you mind blowing orgasm after orgasm so he could continue to experience the heavenly sight of your writhing body and that bewitching, satisfied smile.

Ransom removed his fingers from you and brought them up to his mouth to taste the slick of your release, which was as sweet as he knew your soul to be. Lord, he could just drown in the taste of you - something he planned on doing once the location allowed for it.

“Let’s go back to your place, and I’ll return the favour.” You mumbled against his lips in a sloppy kiss before manoeuvring yourself back into the passenger's side seat.

The entire drive home Ransom covered your hand with his on the gear stick, his large fingers slotting between yours perfectly.

In his small car beside you, driving ever further away from his old family house, Ransom had never felt more at home. He intrinsically knew that he’d never find a safer place than his hand enclosed in yours.

And because of that, someday, he’d make sure you knew just how much he cherished you by giving you a ring to wear proudly on your finger.

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[ronearoundblindly]

The Root of All Ransom (4)

Welp. Here we are. Another part that isn't the finale. So, here you go, 👜 anon, I turned a few sentences into 5.2k.

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom tries his hand at something completely new: being a boyfriend.

Warnings for a shocking amount of foul language, Ransom absolutely not understanding his own feelings, so ya know, idiot!Ran, and referenced smut (non-explicit, or at least not super detailed, don't hate me). MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist.

He’s shocked it’s first class and not a private plane. Ransom shouldn’t be shocked. It’s you, so why not be one more sensible thing you don’t have to do and do anyway? He kinda hates your practicality, but you insist—when the stay overseas is this long and there’s no hard start to your arrival, you fly commercial.

He already regrets coming along. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

Ran entertains himself for the majority of the first leg since you are actually on a call in mid-air about…whatever the fuck he interrupted you discussing yesterday…and now he’s distracted by that damn memory again.

He adjusts himself in his spacious seat, folding his hands over his lap and focusing out the window past you. Except he’s not. He’s not eyeing the cloud formations or the colors of quickening sunrise and set. He’s just watching you handle your business. He sees you put on fake—but well-executed fake—smiles and offer niceties to people beneath you, people nowhere near as smart as you, people nowhere near as pretty.

Shit.

He watches a movie instead, waking up as the pilot announces your descent, and he turns to find you resting against his shoulder.

He hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t notice falling asleep. He didn’t notice someone touching him in his sleep. He didn’t care, and that’s weird for Ransom.

He doesn’t want to know what it took for you to put him beside you on such short notice—except he really, really wants to know—but he vows this will be the only time you pay for his ticket. It’s better if he pays his own way. Less mess. Boundaries. Not much harm in you napping on him though because, hey, you’ve been naked together in bed…and now he’s thinking again. Shit.

Ransom has ‘friends’ all over the world, so his passport is current and ready for a barrage of stamps. The noise of the immigration officer’s plunging metal and ink gong (or may as well be) tells Ran he needs some painkillers for a headache. Good thing he wore dark sunglasses.

Coffee during the mercifully short layover does not prevent him from passing out on your shoulder during the second leg of the trip, but you are happy puttering away on your tablet when he falls asleep and when he wakes up. You play some stupid game the whole time. He had no idea you did that.

With how excruciating the journey is to Beijing, Ransom’s considering always tacking on a visit to someone between you and home. He’s never going to do just this back and forth again, but it’s not so daunting if padded with a second locale.

He can make one call and be raucously accepted in Dubai, Monte Carlo, Sydney, and Naples, and those are just the people he’s seen recently States-side. Trust fund children live their best lives, do the best drugs, and drink the best booze. They do that shit endlessly. They are Ran’s people. Ran is one of them. He’s rolled that fact over and over in his head too much by the time you two step out to find your car in Beijing.

You have a local assistant and translator, whose name he doesn’t give a fuck about when he’s this tired, and she rides in the back of the SUV with you. He just shuts his eyes behind his sunglasses and prays to stop moving soon. His ass is vibrating and not in a pleasant way.

There is no pomp at the hotel. In fact, Ran notices that absolutely no staff so much as glance at your party as you make your way to the private elevator.

One button. It’s not labeled. It’s just a little gold round, and the assistant pushes it.

Then Ransom sees a few smaller black buttons below the otherwise empty panel that all have distinguishing characters, but guests need not know nor care what those mean. Only the gold matters. You should arrive at the penthouse, nowhere else, and the elevator just does the rest.

It’s a nice touch, he allows, properly exclusive.

You head to sleep instantly, only taking the time to wash up before crawling under the generic white but high thread count sheets, and lightly snoring. Ran thoroughly cleans up, too, unable to lay down just yet. He smirks when he sets his bag of travel-sized skincare down by yours. It’s odd that feels right.

He explores the four rooms of your suite with due reverence. This is the shit he thought you avoided. This is the top of Beijing—possibly all of China—and they know you here.

Whilst you remain dead to the world, room service arrives at exactly six pm local time. That is not something you told the assistant to do within the last day; that’s a routine, a standing order, and Ran has no clue what to do.

Does he wake you? Does he help himself? What the fuck? What would you want? What does he want? He’s way out of his depth. He munches on the proffered food while contemplating how stupid it was to make this long-ass trip without truly getting what it would mean.

What does it mean anyway?

Optionless but to ask you, he slinks into the bedroom and gently sweeps your hair behind your ear.

You mumble but don’t wake. He doesn’t get an answer if you are hungry, but he leaves the door ajar so you can smell dinner if it strikes your fancy.

Ransom crashes pretty quickly once his belly is full and the sun sinks beyond the smoggy horizon of metal spires.

His choice for bed is to curl around you. That’s what he wants. That’s what puts him right out. Ransom Drysdale always does exactly what he wants. That’s the beauty of his life.

Within a few days is another formal event, and Ransom is pre-partying with a glass full of two tiny bottles worth of whisky when the elevator dings.

He thinks it’s room service again but isn’t sure why they wouldn’t know to skip a dinner delivery tonight.

Before he gets a word out, however, a tall, bulky gentleman in an all-black suit stares back at him with the same questioning look.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ran blurts.

The man looks around and asks for you instead of responding, and you pop out of the bedroom.

“Cole?”

Is that even remotely this fucker’s real name? He’s a very, very good-looking Asian man named fucking ‘Cole?’

No. Ran fumes instantly.

“Shit,” you exclaim rushing to place an earring and ignoring the wide-open back of your dress. “This is my fault. I blanked. I won’t need you tonight, dear.”

Dear???

“But you’ve got your—“ you hold your hand out toward the newcomer (or not-new), miming giving him something, but Cole sweeps away your concern with a wave.

Ran steps closer to you, forcibly zipping your gown with eyes fixed on the other man.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s no trouble.” Cole looks Ransom up and down, flashing an approving grin. “You two have fun.”

The hell if he needs Cole’s fucking approval, but you play it all off so well that Ransom forgets all about him by the time you take his arm and walk into that evening’s venue.

He has enough to drink that Ran gets pretty handsy in the car on the way back to the hotel. His groping gets you very hot and bothered in turn, and eventually, he bends you over the suite’s expensive grey couch with the view of the city below, gripping your hair and hip tighter than intended. He fucks you so hard that you squirt, and it drips down the inside of his legs, wetting his dress socks which are still on. 

It’s not the soggy socks that annoy him the most though.

You make him help you clean the mess with towels, and the kicker is that Ransom didn’t get to come yet. What the shit? From now on, hard fucks are only for over hardwood floors, and fuck if he’s letting you come first, selfish whore. Ran isn’t the help. He’s not fucking cleaning.

His reward—because he always forgets that there is always a reward with you—is that you let him come wherever he wants, so then he’s deliberate and torturously slow sliding into your soaked pussy and marking his selfish, rewarding, dick-sucking, cum-painted whore. No condom. Damn it, it’s perfect.

He’s a filthy asshole and you fucking love it. He knows because you let him. He knows because of those noises and that fucking giggle. He knows because you both sleep like fucking rocks after your dirtiest sex ever.

Yes, the arrangement is working well, despite being in each other’s company five times more than ever before. He gets breaks while you work or he roams around shopping sometimes. Still, two days after the first event, Ran flies to see that buddy in Monte Carlo and then home.

Just in case.

He doesn’t want to get bored.

 It works. The whole arrangement works, and no one is more surprised than Ransom. He isn’t getting bored with you or the sex. He visits in short intervals, ready with any number of jaunts to other countries should he need to run, and you keep running your own fucking business. He’s simultaneously cautious and completely unhinged in enjoyment. Best of both worlds—or no worlds, kinda—because there are no labels and no pressure. He’s in complete control. He comes when he wants. Yup. That means exactly what he thinks.

He would have guessed the distance would get on his nerves or get old, but Ran discovered phone sex. There was no reason before to do digitally what he could do personally. Why have a phone book of willing ass if not to use it? He may have been wrong on that front. The phone itself is a goddamn revelation. He gets to finish and there is no one—no one—to kick out afterward. He can hear everything, see everything if he wants, and then he definitely doesn’t have to clean your filthy cunt up. He’s never gone long enough to forget what you taste like, so that’s fine. Where has this been all his life?

Good news is that you like enough variety (and make all those fucking noises) that he is anything but bored. He’s steadily built a vivid spank bank from his in-person visits and a few choice screencaps on his ever-more-beloved phone.

He enjoys one event gown with a slit so high up your thigh that he can finger you secretly. He only has to lean over enough to look like he’s listening to you whisper in his ear—and you do whisper harsh, filthy things that make him wish his clothing left such easy access to his dick. Also, Ransom Drysdale is now a member of the Mile High Club, and yes, he is very smug about that fact.

You do that. You answer his texts, and you call more. Ran looks forward to midday as well as midnight buzzes from his pocket.

He enjoys it even more when he gets to pick up your call in the middle of brunch with his mother, holding a finger up to Linda’s face mid-sentence to say he has to take this.

He’s deliberate to call you ‘sweetheart’ right away, openly gloating which, ok, yes, you were right about him doing, but he doesn’t pity Linda. That bitch deserves all this and more.

“Yeah, it’s a good time to talk. Just at brunch,” he says with all the niceness of people he’s seen being obnoxious in ‘relationships.’

“She says ‘hi,’” he tosses to his mother as he excuses himself from the table. The look on her thin, cigarette-puckered face is priceless. He’ll have to make sure you call during brunch every week he’s not traveling.

His grandfather is harder to flaunt you in front of. The astute old man always asks about you, not your business, and promptly waxes poetic about his late wife. Ran has never heard Harlan talk about Grandma Thrombey so much while playing ‘Go.’ He thinks maybe Grandpa is getting senile or hoping to freshen up the old stories for a new audience, namely his nurse, Marta.

Compared to his deceased ancestor, Ran’s giving it the old college try. Comfortable living in a nondescript limbo of getting laid with total freedom. You are never the sole reason he leaves the country. That would be dependent. Ransom is not dependent.

He’s careful because if he upsets you then he makes this very awkward for himself—temporary as that may be until he simply flies away.

He plays the role of a boyfriend. He imitates things he’s seen. It’s easier to fake than he thought it would be.

Ransom has never seen you this stressed. 

You make less eye contact with him and the other guests at the swanky Hong Kong plaza—a little travel amongst his travels—but the party is too crowded for him to ask what’s wrong.

 Of course, because you’re such a big name right now, lots of young entrepreneurs and CEOs want to talk to you. That’s too many people too close for even Ran’s socialite moods. He bristles at the puppy dogs wagging their tongues and tails in your face.

You don’t handle the attention well.

You jump headlong into the variables of earnings, spending, overhead, gross revenue, and capital while Ran watches the men and women surrounding you start to zone out. They humor your rant, but it’s not what they all want to hear.

These are people who talk out of their asses. They talk a big game with tiny, manicured hands that grasp at buzzwords and soundbites. They are ‘eco-friendly,’ ‘streamlined,’ ‘culturally inclusive’ little fucks, all of them, and Ransom speaks their language.

He touches your elbow lightly.

“Shall we get you a fresh drink, sweetheart?” he says a touch loud to cut you off.

All you notice is that you can see the bottom of your glass. “Oh, sure.”

“I’ll bring her right back,” Ran promises the circle of listeners, guiding you away to a far table.

He’s not telling you how to do your job, but he knows those folk. That’s not how you keep young money’s attention.

They don’t do well with practical details upfront. They’re dreamers. Paint a picture. Give them the moral and idealized speech of how you’re making the world a better place. The bullshittier the better. Then hit them with the figures if they ask.

As he says his piece, you sigh and straighten. You know he’s right.

“You really are cold and calculated.”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to be?”

You look him over before a small ‘okay,’ announcing you’re ready to tackle the rest of the night.

Ran smiles back before taking you the long way around to grab those fresh drinks he promised. He’s been helpful. He feels like your equal, and it feels good.

You certainly don’t need him, but his confidence is boosted after coming to your rescue.

On his next trip out, there’s a problem. Thank god you lay out your clothing the morning of so that he caught it, too, because the dress—this goddamn rag sack piece of shit—has to go.

It’s hideous. Trendy in the worst way. Ransom isn’t letting you fucking leave like that. He isn’t going to be seen with you like that, more accurately. He simply refuses.

You’ll have to be fashionably late. They’ll fucking wait for you.

He doesn’t care if it’s a local designer. He doesn’t care if your assistant has to be on the phone through her lunch break. He arranges for you to have a proper gown.

Something decent. Something flattering. Something you.

And it really does make you light up.

You hang on his arm with gratitude the whole night, sweetly touching your hand to his thigh when something in the dinner conversation reminds you of him (or if you’re sure you’ll commiserate about someone’s stupid comment later), and Ran feels appreciated for his expertise.

It’s another high note.

His planned trip on the way home is Ibiza. The friend he visits there was once loosely described as “the British Ransom,” which then led to the two being called ‘the Wank’ and ‘the Yank,’ a story for another time. However, Ran struggles to see the similarities this time.

The Wank still sleeps around with these model types. He still drinks too much and does a bunch of drugs. Ransom has no interest in any of the half-naked women throwing themselves at him. He tries—he really tries—to find them appealing, but he can’t help but notice they’re dumb. They have no original thoughts of their own, not a single one between them, and it’s fucking torture to listen to them. They are instantly boring.

He misses the challenge of you already.

Ran muddles through an exhaustive, unenjoyable weekend before coming up with a solution.

Instead of going back to the states, instead of being boring and predictable and expecting those imbeciles to develop opinions overnight, he surprises you (and himself) by returning to Beijing.

It makes sense because Ransom Drysdale does whatever he wants, always has. No, he doesn’t have to do anything, but that makes it all the more strange that he wants to see you again so soon.

It’s a mixed bag bordering on a mistake.

He’s seen you stressed but never this busy. Every other visit was planned, aligned with weekends or events so he has something to do with you instead of just near you, but he’s fucked that now.

You spend hours away at your temporary offices. You have meetings at your construction site morning and afternoon. Your contractor even comes up to the hotel suite after you come back from twelve hours out already.

Ransom is bored. He’s upset for you, and he doesn’t hide it well.

After fifteen minutes sitting across the living room from you two and your blueprints, bouncing his foot on a rug not thick enough to muffle the sound—but also no longer stained from your come, he notices,—you stride over with a set jaw.

Your hand lands on his knee in a biting pinch.

“Behave,” you hiss, “or go.”

Normally, he’d be furious. No one talks to Ran like that, but that’s just the problem: you do.

You talk to Ransom like that because you’re trying to work. You’re work is more important than he is. He’s returned, and you have shit to do. Why does that hit him so differently?

As a child, he started with a sky-high hope of pleasing his mother, but her constant belittling and dismissal wore that hope down to nothing.  The sudden desire for that approval from you is a bit like his presence: uninvited but not unwelcome.

Linda didn’t care what he did as long as he wasn’t around. You don’t care what he does—not really—as long as he is around. It’s only that you don’t like being annoyed, just like him, and he doesn’t want to annoy you.

He doesn’t want you to get bored with him.

So his immediate reaction is to sit still. He wants to behave. He wants to stay in the room with you. Why is that so odd? He should take a swing or yell. He should bolt to catch the next flight out. Why does staying in a place he belongs feel so foreign?

Wait. Why does he feel like he belongs here?

Because Ransom does whatever he wants, and if he wants to be in the room, then he belongs there. Obviously. Yeah. That’s gotta be why.

He stares, perfectly unmoving with your eyes locked on his, and your look softens after a long moment.

“Sorry,” you mouth. “Thank you for being patient.”

In yet another odd turn of events, Ran wants to argue with that. He’s never been patient his entire life. Certainly, no one has ever described him that way, but a confused weight pushes his ass further into the cushions, readying him for a long haul.

“Good boy,” you mutter, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Behaved? Patient? Good? Fuck, he’s gonna need time to think about what he’s done, why he’s doing it, and why the fuck you think he’s good because Ransom Drysdale isn’t good.

Right?

He’s good with strictly Old Money folks or young money folks, but Ransom has never been particularly adept with earned money folks. You are a mix of young and earned. It’s why he can’t figure you out all the way, not quickly, at least, not obviously.

He tags along to an intimate business dinner scheduled for the night. Since he wasn’t supposed to be in town, it’s either that or eating alone, so Ran guards himself for a spectacularly boring meal.

There are only seven people, and he’s the odd man out. You are neither the oldest nor the youngest two there. Among the table is another couple in their fifties—business and life partners—who have been together for years, probably decades. Ransom doesn’t listen very closely; he watches. They are both more playful and more serious than you and him. It makes Ran very aware of how useless he is to you at this moment. Because Ran can’t ramp up his industry knowledge in five seconds flat, he decides to touch you more.

Grazing the back of his finger down your arm. Swiping your hair off of your neck. Splaying his hand between your shoulder blades.

It’s not meant to be possessive; he just has nothing else to do. What else is he supposed to offer?

Apparently, that’s not…good?

He doesn’t understand much of what’s said (a hazard of not giving a flying fuck because he’s not there to understand your business) but he does notice your change in demeanor after a short chat with the woman seated to your right.

On the way back to the car, you lengthen your stride, rushing in front of him, fuming. Ran doesn’t understand. It’s not as if he fingered you under the fucking table or something, well, not again. You didn’t seem any weaker or submissive in front of the group. He demanded no attention in return. He’s not an idiot. He made sure.

The elevator ride to your floor is sweltering and not for good reasons.

You refuse his help with your zipper and beeline to the bathroom, starting a shower much later than you normally would. He knows these routines now.

He listens to the spraying water while quietly undressing, not sure what to do or say because he has no clue what he did or said in the first place. He wasn’t hanging all over you. He didn’t grab your ass or objectify you in any way. He’s always known how not to treat people like shit; he simply doesn’t care most of the time.

This isn’t one of those times.

He needs to know if he fucked up so he can leave. He can’t stand to hang around for arguments. He watched enough of those from Richard and Linda. He listens by the bathroom door until there’s one faint sniffle from the other side and immediately walks in.

You’re standing under the water, head hanging.

When he gets to the glass door, he asks, “what’s wrong?” Ransom doesn’t have a gentler way to word that.

You stare at the tiles. “I’m tired.” You don’t tell him to go away or leave you alone, so Ransom opens the door and steps in.

He’s seen you tired. He knows you tired. That’s not the whole truth.

Ran won’t get any goddamn sleep if you’re strung out and emotional beside him, so he lifts your chin in his grasp and asks you to pass him the body wash. He’ll get your back.

Your pupils are blown when he looks at you. Ran doesn’t know how to take that when you keep your arms tucked to your chest like a scared and quivering rabbit.

No fancy ideas form in his head while he slowly scrubs that beautiful expanse of skin he’s grown quite fond of. It’s a lot for him to even stay in the building much less the tiny space of this bathroom, luxurious as the shower may be. He has no experience going toward upset people. He is always running away from them.

With how quiet you are, all of Beijing will run out of hot water before you talk to him, so he motions to leave.

“Good? You ready?” he whispers once you’re rinsed.

You don’t look at him again. “I’ll meet you out there” is all you mumble.

Fine. He grabs a towel for himself and peels off his now sopping-wet boxer briefs. He wrings them out over the sink dramatically and flashes you a smile, but you’ve fully turned away, covered and drying with your head bent again.

He does not like this.

Ransom’s flight home leaves the next day, and this is not how he wants any of his visits to end. You can’t be sad. He can’t get any sleep beside a sad woman.

When you crawl into bed, damp hair and all, he mirrors how you lay beside him, but you don’t touch.

“So…” he tries again, leading you to a place he’s not even sure he wants to go.

After a heavy sigh, you explain that the woman at dinner thought he was an escort. She thought you were so lonely that you hired company for a dinner of friends. She thought you inappropriately considered that acceptable, as if you wouldn’t know for what functions you needed a fucking date.

Ransom fills the silence that follows. “Like…Kyle?”

You prop up your head to glare at him in the ambient city light. “You mean Cole?”

“His name isn’t fucking Cole, but sure, that guy.” Ransom shifts over to his back, spreading out casually over the bed while his chest tightens. “You…pay them for company.”

More silence.

“Paid, past tense, yes.”

“Did you fuck ‘em?”

You smack his chest with no real force. “Ransom!”

“What?! It’s just a question. It’s a fair question,” he retorts. You only call him ‘Ransom’ when mad. When he’s good you call him ‘Hugh,’ or when you’re messing with him, but either way, he prefers when you say ‘Hugh.’ You are the only person not employed by his family who he prefers that from.

You sit bolt upright in the bed, wearing pajamas, he notes. Boo.

“Ok, sure, Anal Daddy of the Northeast. You can talk.”

“Fine—” because that was savage “—are you embarrassed?” He mirrors you again and sits up. “Does it embarrass you that you hired them?”

“No.” You don’t sound convincing. “It didn’t then.”

Ran rests his head on his fist, tired. He’s tired but not bored. Weary. That’s a better word for it. He’s weary because that absolute cunt at dinner has no right to make you feel so small and wrong when you could wipe the fucking floor with her.

“Why would be embarrassing now?”

Good god, if Ransom Drysdale isn’t embarrassed that you walked in on him with one of the saddest fucks of his life than surely you’re overreacting.

You are busy all the time. It would make less sense for you not to use that type of service. It’s only because he has money that he can keep up with you and only because he has no job that he can see you on your schedule.

“Because…” You flop onto your back, so your eyes can’t meet his even in the dark. “Because she thought my first real boyfriend of this decade was a whore.”

Ran shrugs. “I am though.”

You snort, try to stop it, and end up burying your face in the comforter to giggle.

“Hugh—“ that’s better “—stop it. That’s not what I meant.”

He leans over you, his weight against a hand at your side. “I suppose the real question is ‘am I a better free fuck than your paid fucks?’”

Your fake ire is adorable as you try to ‘attack’ him in bed. You may as well have started a pillow fight, but it’s leagues away from crying on your own in the shower. Who knows? If he plays his cards right and puts you in a good enough mood, he might get a blowjob out it. That’ll sure as shit let him rest well tonight.

Finally, tumbled onto his back with you straddling him, he grabs your wrists lightly.

“Come on, sweetheart, I’m sorry that old hag is a bitter bitch.” He kisses the tip of your nose and lines his lips up to yours. “Now where’s my check?” he asks in a gravelly, thick voice.

“Cash,” you correct just before your mouths meet, and Ran snaps back in curiosity.

That’s how you wanna play it? He tries to get more out of you.

“No, no, no.” Your squeals as he manhandles you closer are delightful, the silky fabric of your shorts and top glide right over his heating skin.

“You know what I think,” he announces with you pinned to his chest, gasping for breath. “I think you need to come home. I think you’ve been here too long.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

When you move to hide your face in his neck, Ran has to hold your cheek, forcing you to pay attention.

“Three days,” he says. “Give me one weekend. My grandfather’s birthday is a couple weeks away. You can see the leaves change and watch my mother shrivel into the Crypt Keeper before your very eyes.” He allows a pause for your poorly stifled laugh and watches you bite your bottom lip like he’s going to do for you in about two minutes, right after you say yes. “Pure entertainment. No translator required. How about it?”

It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t fight him a little more. It wouldn’t be you if the challenge didn’t make him that much harder.

That’s why. That’s why he does this. He wants the bit of work to get you in bed, the bit of struggle before you let him inside you. He wants to be home with you there. He wants to be in his own space again. He wants to show you off. He wants his fucking family to see he can do this. 

Selfishly.

All of these things he wants for himself. He wants you to stop crying for him. He wants you to destress for him. He wants you to have a vacation for him. These are all completely normal motivators from Ransom Drysdale.

He’s still in control. He’s still getting what he wants. He didn’t have to change a thing about himself to be perfectly happy. He was right all along.

A/N: Repeat after me: this is not a series. This is a mini-series. There will only be one more part. Again, only one more part...because ffs I do love Ransom, but it is impossible to write any other character while dipping into this asshole's mindset. Anyway, one. more. part. and we're done! Also hey, hey, @supraveng.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom smut #fanfic #fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #18+ #18+ fanfic #ransom drysdale fic #the root of all ransom

[drmaddict]

Photo negatives

Summary: Ransom and his soulmate are photo negatives. But it works.

Word Count: 654

Warnings: fluff, use of (y/n)

Here is how Ransom met his soulmate: https://www.tumblr.com/drmaddict/719495908948049920/soulmate?source=share

Ransom was pretty sure that he and his soulmate were photo negatives.

She was shy. He was quick-tempered. She preferred to never leave the house. He wanted to go out partying. She was an early riser. He slept late into the afternoon. She loved animals. He never wanted pets.

Wanted. And yet the old one-eyed cat looked at him from the sofa, annoyed. Not even a pedigree cat had it become. She had gone to the shelter and asked which animal had the least chance of being adopted. Home she came with a 16-year-old mummy, who was missing an eye, had several bald spots, was half blind in his existing eye, and had chronic sinusitis. The cat jumped up and left the living room. Ransom looked after him disapprovingly. He called it a creature. She called him Edgar.

Once, for her sake, he had given the bastard his pills. Afterwards, he had recorded that he would rather shave his head than be mauled by the critter again. (Y/n) had amusedly disinfected the "scratch" on his hand. "That's not funny." "Of course not... A little lower and we would have had to go to the emergency room." He'd ignored her smirk and had the band-aid applied. It had been a serious injury.

She could cook. He could burn water. He wanted to take her shopping to spoil her and she wanted to drag him to a secondhand store first of all.

They weren't a good match. Except in bed. Ransom smirked at the thought. For someone so quiet and shy, she had insanely creative ideas.

But that aside, he just didn't understand why fate had stuck the two of them together of all people.

He was... happy. With her he was really happy. With her simple nature. No ambush. No drama. Well. Almost no drama.

For the past few weeks, she had gotten it into her head that she wanted to meet his family. Today they would all meet and she wasn't going away from the idea, that it would be best to rip off the metaphorical band-qid quickly and all at once. He had sworn to himself to be tough. Now here he was, waiting for her to get ready for his damn family's celebration. It wasn't going to go well. It couldn't go well. She would leave him. If his mother got a hold of her at the latest, she would leave him. No one would be willing to put themself through that for the rest of his life. Especially not because of someone like him. When had he started to see this as the rest of his life? He broke out in a sweat.

 (Y/n) came down the stairs. She was wearing a simple black dress. They had picked it out together. He had bought it for her. "Too much?" she asked uncertainly, pointing down at herself. "Perfect," was all he returned. He had never seen her look so chic.

"Can we?" she asked. "Are you really sure?" he asked for the hundredth time. She smiled at him calmly. "I've been waiting tables in luxury restaurants since I was seventeen." She poked him on the nose. "Your family must be going all out to make me back down." She stroked the back of his neck. "You're not nice all the time because nothing bad ever happened to you."

He gave her an appraising look. She giggled. "Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave." She kissed him on the nose. "I have a reward for you, too." He looked ather testingly. "What kind of reward?" "I went to your favorite store." She grinned. He grinned back. "I get something to play with?" "And a pretty package."

He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. "You’ll have a stomachache after dinner because you couldn't stomach something," he determined.

She willingly let him pull her along, grinning.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #fluff #soulmate au #soulmates

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Addicted to your voice

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - the following fic contains: Explicit smut, phone sex/sexting, dirty talk, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, horny!Ransom.

Summary: Ransom is horny and seeks reader for relief virtually.

Ransom’s POV

Working as an intern for my grandfather, - Harlan and my uncle, - Walt was more time consuming than I had expected when first signing up for it.

As it turned out, it didn’t only require showing up at the office to attend meetings and having discussions over what direction we should go with the stories.

— No, apparently we had to leave out of state sometimes to attend conferences and meet with book publisher companies to sign contracts and whatnot.

Most of those abroad business trips didn’t last more than one and a half day absence from home, but the trip I was attending this time around was in connection with a book publishing conference combined with a book signing in New York City. It would last 5 days, and already on the 1st day it was hard keeping the enthusiasm.

Thankfully my girlfriend would keep me entertained through our virtual communication.

I texted her whenever I had free, asking her how she was, - sort of hoping she would reply with an emergency so I had a valid reason to return home to her, but of course nothing was more important to me than her wellbeing.

As I was making myself comfortable in my hotel room, free from Walt and Harlan’s nagging for the evening, my mind couldn’t help but wander off while laying in the empty bed, making little efforts of reading my book which I was currently holding.

I hadn’t been away from Y/N for this long since we became official, and it had only been 3 days now. I had 2 more days to go until I would finally return home, - yet it felt like an eternity. It made me realize how easily bored and needy I could get without my girlfriend, and I itched for her touch more than I had anticipated I would when I first left.

My longing for her sweet affectionate touches eventually led me to have sinful thoughts, - the ones that made me crave her body insanely, the feel of her skin, her taste on my tongue, - her everything.

I cursed as my pants grew tighter around the crotch area. I put the book down and drew my hair back with my fingertips in frustration.

The thought of masturbating as a solution to my current problem icked me. It never feels the same without her, - always leaving me disappointed as I’m reminded of how her hands, her mouth and her cunt, - even her feet feels a million times better against my cock than my own hand. But then again, it wasn’t pleasant to ignore my raging boner.

I was in need of a release, but how was I supposed to feel satisfied without her?

I looked over at the nightstand where I had put my book down, and it was then when I eyed my phone beside it.

An excellent idea came to mind, and I smiled to myself devilishly as I reached for my phone.

I began to type as soon as I typed in the password, my conversation with Y/N 2 hours prior still open as I hadn’t bothered to close the message app.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

Hey kitten…

Miss you…

Like a lot…

What I’m trying to say is I’m so fucking hard for you right now.

I was relieved to see she had seen the messages right as I had sent them. This called for some fun.

The three dots quickly appeared on the bottom side of her texts.

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Well that escalated quickly. But for the record, I miss you too, Ran. 🥺

Want me to do anything to help with your situation, baby? I could lend you a hand…figuratively anyway.

I chuckled, but it turned strained as I squeezed my dick through my pants to give temporary relief before I began to type my reply.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

You can help me by sending a pic of your tits first.

Can you be a good girl for me and show them?

I could practically hear her cute snort. Sexting was never her style, but she was in the process of converting because of me.

She replied shortly,

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Yes daddy.

An image was attached moments later of her pair round and soft breasts with her shirt dragged up. Her nipples were almost perky, with her chin and bottom lip being bitten viewable in the picture.

I groaned audibly from the image as I added pressure on my clothed cock, having little resistance to keep my cock within the restraints of my pants any longer. As I unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants down, a wet patch had already formed on my boxers where my cock stood tall.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

Good girl…

Mmm I’m already leaking for you, kitten. Wish I could bury my cock inside your tight cunt and have you full of me. See me bulge in your cute tummy as I fuck you hard.

Miss feeling you throb as I rub your clit. You’re my sweet, sensitive little thing, aren’t ya?

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Ran, you’re going to have me touch myself if you keep this up…

Good, was all I could think, and I pulled my hard cock out and began to stroke myself.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

Yeah? My kitten’s feeling all tingly because of my dirty talk? Touch yourself then, sweetheart. This doesn’t have to be one-sided…

I clicked on the camera icon to snap a shot of my dick, just to further tease her, but then an even better idea popped in my mind. Instead, I went on video mode, and started to film myself stroking my dick as I moaned and grunted her name. As soon as the video reached 30 seconds, I sent it to her, knowing this would really set the mood for both of us.

She began to type immediately as another 30 seconds passed.

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Ran, you’re so mean…

I’m so wet right now…want daddy’s cock so bad. Want you to hold me down and use my pussy to cum.

Ransom Drysdale

Naughty little cumslut…

You want my load that bad huh? So needy, just like how I’m so needy for you. Show me how wet you are for daddy. I want to see your pretty cunt flow with that sweet love juice.

Only less than a minute later and I was provided with the most delicious view. The image of her cunt, soaked with her cream as she used two fingers to spread her pussy lips for me to see her quivering hole was enough to make me loose my breath. I tightened my jaw as I focused on not cumming just yet, - not wanting to cum without her. I didn’t stop fisting my cock though, afraid I’d loose chasing my high if I did, - but at this point I knew that would be impossible.

Another message followed after the image.

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Wanna cum so bad, daddy. Please make me cum.

I decided then and there that I wanted to give her a call as we were working ourselves to our climax. I tapped her contact and waited for her to answer.

“Kitten?”

“Mmh, yeah?” She replied dazedly.

I turned on the speaker and put my phone down beside me to have my other hand available, using it to touch my chest beneath my sweater. “You want daddy to help you cum too?”

“Uh-huh…wanna cum with you. Ahh, I miss you…”

“Yeah? How much do you miss me?”

“Miss daddy so, - so much…” she nearly cried out through the speaker. “Couldn’t orgasm when I touched myself yesterday. I a-always need you to cum. I can’t wait till you get home..”

“Mhm, me neither baby. I’m gonna..— fuck! I’m gonna fill you up till’ you’re fucking bloating. You better be ready when I enter that fucking door, darling. I won’t let you do fuck else once I get home.” I swore, and began stroking my shaft faster, on the verge of releasing my loaded spend. My grunts were becoming louder and more frequent as I tried to keep my composure, - ultimately failing.

“Yess! Ah, don’t wanna do anything else other than have you inside of me, daddy!” She blurted, her voice trembling as I could hear the sound of wet flesh being rubbed in the background, - the same sound I’d hear whenever my cock would thrust in and out of her plump pussy. Fuck me…

“That’s it baby, use those fingers of yours…want you to cum and make a mess. Make yourself cum for me, kitten. — Shit, - m’gonna cum real soon too…” I murmured, my eyes barely open as it became too much. - my cock was growing sensitive.

“Daddy, I’m ‘bout to, - I’m gonna cum! Nghahhh!~”

Her howl announcing her orgasm was enough to make me reach my peak, and I thrusted my cock up my hand for a finale time.

“Aghh, fuck!” I moaned through my raspy voice, releasing my spend and painting my sweater with white streams.

“Shit…” I heard her mumble through the speaker, and I snickered in response.

“Felt that good, hm? For a moment I was able to imagine it was you with the help of your voice,…you have such an addicting voice, kitten.” I purred as I held up my phone again after drying my cum off my already dirtied sweater.

“The feeling’s mutual, Ran.” She replied through a giggle. “I really can’t wait to have you home again.”

“Me too…” I said, and exhaled a final time as I felt all my frustration had worn out. I felt satisfied, - only temporarily but it was still something. “You sleep well tonight, okay sweetheart?”

“I most definitely will now,” she spoke in a teasing tone. “…sweet dreams, Rannie.” She said her farewell, this time adoringly.

My face grew red and I held back a wide grin, meekly replying ‘sweet dreams, darling’ before we hung up. I put my phone down and sighed as I stared up at the ceiling.

God, was I whipped for this woman who could make my heart flutter by saying the simplest things.

N/A: I made a GIF from that scene where Ransom writes the anonymous email to Marta, and I took the opportunity to write based on it. ;) I mean look at him, he looks kinda…😳

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

Thank you for reading!

#ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #cevans character #cevans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x reader #soft ransom drysdale