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#ransom drysdale x reader
citronbun · 2 days
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Skin care routine with the villains ! 🪞( ˘ ³˘)
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bigtreefest · 23 hours
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🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:
Ransom + kiss on the cheek + “You smell good.”
Meet the Parents
Boyfriend! Ransom Drysdale x Reader
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Word Count: 1,998
A/N: The Shameless Hoe Fairy? At my doorstep? What a surprise!! I was so excited to write this prompt, and hope I did Ransom justice.
Drabble? I don’t know her. I’ll call this a double Drabble based off word count?
Warnings: probably the most suggestive fic I’ve written, so just to be safe, minors DNI, allusions to smut, schmoozing but it’s actually so genuine, family, L-bomb, nickname/pet name usage
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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You had spent two weeks coaching Ransom to meet your family. After a long phone call with your mom on the way home from work, she insisted you bring him over for dinner.
“Family should know everything about each other.” She insisted. You rolled your eyes and hummed in response. At this point, you knew that sometimes there was no fighting her and you just had to say whatever she wanted to hear.
“Okay, mom. I’ll talk to him about it, but to be fair, I haven’t even met his parents yet. Anyway, I’m pulling into my place right now. I’ve gotta let you go.” Your hand hovered over the keys in the ignition, eager to take them out as soon as she’d say goodbye.
“I don’t know why you’re kicking me off the phone so soon, but okay. We’ll plan it out for him to come over soon. Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too. Bye, mom.” You turned off the car and scooped up your bag and keys, heading inside.
As soon as you hit the kitchen, you flailed your arms out, dropping all your stuff on the island. You and Ransom had plans for him to come over and cook with you tonight, but after that call, there was no way that was gonna happen. You could only allocate your energy towards so much at a time.
You had considered asking Ransom if he wouldn’t mind doing the majority of the work for the meal tonight since the two of you had picked up the groceries over the weekend, but quickly thought better. You were already exhausted, no need to add a kitchen cluttered with dirty dishes and burnt food to the list.
You picked up your phone from the mess you made and called Ransom, surprised it only took one ring before he picked up.
“Hey, Sweetheart, I’m on the way over now. You better have a good recipe up your sleeve, because I’m driving through a row of restaurants and the scent is heavenly.” You wanted to laugh but your body felt too weighed down.
“About that, Ran. Can there be a change of plans? I know I said I’d teach you a new recipe tonight, but I have next to no energy left. Will you actually just pick something up? Your choice.”
The line went silent for a beat before you had to pull the phone away from your ear at Ransom’s boisterous response. “THANK GOD. Yes, I’ll do that. Be there in 20.”
And with that he hung up the phone and you flopped down on the couch waiting for him to arrive.
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Ransom’s knock on your door jerked you awake. You responded with a rasp. “It’s open.”
He made his way over to you and set down the bags of food on your coffee table.
“Hi, Ranny.” You smiled up at him, your eyes still half lidded with sleep.
Ransom reached for your hands, draping them over the back of his neck as he crouched over you, eventually lowering himself down so his head was on your chest, the rest of his broad form blanketing you on the couch. You kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair as he mumbled through his squished cheeks. “What’s got you all like…this?” He gestured to your face without looking up.
He still wasn’t that great at expressing his care for the emotions of others, but for you, he was trying. You sighed and patted his shoulders.
“Food first, then I’ll tell you.”
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You pushed back your takeout box on the coffee table and finally looked up at Ransom. He had been eyeing you skeptically the whole meal, leaning against the bottom of the couch, both of you sitting on the floor, as he ate his own food. It wasn’t like him to be that quiet. He must’ve been worried.
“Hi.” You softly whispered to him, looking back into his piercing gaze.
“Hi. You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” He returned with a gentle sternness in his tone.
You nodded, your shoulders rolling back as you built up the courage to address this big of a topic. “My parents want to meet you.”
Ransom’s jaw stopped chewing his food. He set down his utensils and swallowed, shifting to put his elbows on the table to look at you. “Okay… what’s so wrong with that? Parents love me.”
You grimaced, you really liked him, but didn’t want to subject your relationship to the gauntlet of your family.
“Nothing, really, it’s just, my parents are very traditional. Like, super religious and conservative.”
Ransom continued to look at you intently, nodding slowly. “So what exactly are you saying? I wouldn’t be approved by your parents?”
“No! I’m not saying that at all, I just want to make sure they see how great you are. They tend to judge harshly and quickly. The first time I brought a guy home, they literally said, ‘Yeah, I think you’d be better as friends. Let him down easy.’ And I never saw him again because couldn’t handle their disappointed faces every time I mentioned his name. I don’t want to have to go through that with you- no, I can’t go through that with you because I love you and you’re it for me.”
Ransom’s eyes went wide. That was the first time you had said it and he was surprised by how quotidian it seemed. Like you should’ve been saying it this whole time. Your eyes went wide as well with surprise at what had slipped out as his face morphed into a grin. It wasn’t shit-eating or mischievous, it was full of love and… lust?
“Get over here.” You silently scooted around the coffee table on your knees and made your way to Ransom as he reached his arms out and guided you into his lap. He pulled you close so your noses were touching, his long eyelashes fluttering along your cheeks as you whimpered.
“Let me show you how much I love you. I’ll savor you right here and treat you like the only woman on Earth, because you’re it for me, too.” Ransom made a move to press his lips against yours, but you pulled back.
“Wait, Ran. There’s something I have to tell you first.” His eyes darted in between yours with concern.
“My parents still think I’m a virgin.” His shoulders dropped as he looked at you incredulously, head cocked to the side.
“Is that it? I mean, we both know you’re far from pure already if I’ve got anything to say about it.” The corner of his mouth turned up and you hid your head in his neck. You pulled back, pushing your hands against his shoulders to keep distance so you could focus enough to get the rest of the information out.
“Just, with everything I told you, there are some household rules we’ll have to follow.”
“Mmhmm.” He hummed, kissing a trail up your forearm.
“Ran, I mean it. No kissing around them, not on the lips at least. Forehead and cheek only.”
“Yeah, I get it.” He continued, kissing his way up the other arm.
“Seriously, and no inappropriate touching, or private conversations in a separate room.”
His trail continued up your neck. “Is that all?”
You sighed and tilted your head back, closing your eyes. “You probably have to bring a bottle of wine. And flowers for my mom and sister.” You meant to sound stern, but it came out as more of a gasp.
“Consider it done, sweetheart.” He moved up your cheek, then leaned in for a deep kiss that left you breathless.
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Two weeks later, you were staying at your parents’ house for a long weekend. They had come to pick you up, and Ransom was going to drive you back home after the meal so you could go to work the next morning. Letting Ransom stay over would probably never be a thought in their mind until the two of you were married, so he was only coming over for Sunday night dinner.
You were nervous and hoped his weeks of prep had been taken to heart. On a normal day with Ransom, he was all over you, so you had no idea how he was going to keep his hands to himself, if only for a few hours.
You had told him your parents valued punctuality, too, having met in the military, so you were delighted to hear the doorbell at 5:15 when they’d told him to be there at 5:30.
You ran down the steps and opened the door to be greeted by your boyfriend holding two bouquets and a bottle of wine as your mother followed closely behind you. Ransom was looking more handsome than usual, if that was even possible, with his signature sweater and carefully styled hair. You preferred it floofy and a little messy, as it was most mornings, but it was perfect for your mom to see him.
Ransom handed you the bottle of wine as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” You blushed and gestured toward your mom with your free hand.
“Mom, this is Ransom, Ransom, I’d like you to mee-“
Before you could even finish the introduction, she cut you off. “Mom, you can call me Mom, dear. It’s so great to meet you.” Ransom laughed and handed her a bouquet of flowers with charm before she pulled him in for a hug. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the greeting. You’d never seen her be this welcoming before, even when your sister brought her husband home for the first time. Ransom looked over his shoulder at you and winked as your mother dragged him into the living room to meet the rest of the family.
You made your way to the kitchen with the bottle of wine, catching your dad who was finishing up the meal.
“Hey Dad, Ransom just got here. Need any help finishing up?” He looked up from the pot he was stirring and squinted to read the label on the bottle of wine in your hands.
“Ah, that’s a good one. Why don’t you pull out some glasses and open it up so we can get it airing. Would you be a dear and help me take this all out to the table? I’m gonna go introduce myself.”
You nodded and got to work running the dishes out to the dining room.
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Dinner with Ransom went off without a hitch. He was a perfect gentleman without it seeming forced, engaging in conversation with your family with ease. Every topic he brought up complimented you and touched on your best moments with each other, your sister and her husband chiming in on their similar experiences and your parents looking at the two of you with approval and admiration.
When it was time to go, your parents made you each a bag full of leftovers, insisting you’d both have dinners for the whole week. You smiled and happily took them, waving goodbye until they closed the door behind you. Ransom grabbed your hand, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between your bodies before walking you to the other side of his Beamer. He opened the passenger door for you before he grabbed the bag of food out of your hands and placed it in the back along with his. He leaned into the car, finally out of the line of sight of your parents’ windows as he buckled you into your seat. As he leaned back, he kissed you on the cheek again before nosing against your neck.
“You smell good. So good I almost went crazy when I first got here.” He pulled back, pupils blown with lust, swallowing his icy irises, as he leaned in with his arm resting against the roof of the car.
“Now let’s take you home so I can take you apart.”
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devilishcupid · 10 months
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hot evil characters who i want to fix but will make me cry if i actually meet them in real life>>>>>>
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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months
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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
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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 · 7 months
Text
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.
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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. 
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thank you for reading!
feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
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stargazingfangirl18 · 3 months
Text
Rescue
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,829 Summary: Ransom uses you to avoid an almost-scandal, and you have no idea. Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Explicit language. A/B/O. A fucked up AU where omegas are generally treated more like pets than people, but don't worry, our babes will fix that. Pet play elements. Implied past violence. Mild violence (hit with a stick). Traumatized!Reader. Cranky CEO!Ransom. Lies, deceit, gaslighting. Angst. Size difference/kink.
A/N: Ngl, this is one of my favorite pairings/storylines in this verse. I hope you like it! 😊
VERSE MASTERLIST
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“Are we ready to get this over with or what?” 
Ransom Drysdale, infamous CEO of one of the leading pharmaceutical companies in the world, scowled at his assistant as they stood just beyond the front lobby in the local omega rescue. 
“Almost, sir!” Said assistant, Mallory, chirped. 
She perked up as the Director of Public Relations at Drysdale Industries, Tyler, quickly made his way over. 
“The press is setting up and they’ll be ready for you in five,” Tyler confirmed. At the sight of Ransom’s glower, he sighed, lowering his voice as he spoke, “Mr. Drysdale, I know this isn’t really your cup of tea—“
“I hate vanity philanthropy,” Ransom huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Reminds me of my bitch of a mother, may she rot in hell.”
“I know, sir,” Tyler lamented. “But this sort of thing really does help with business and public opinion.”
Ransom hmphed, turning at the sudden sound of a commotion coming from one of the omega pens just down the hall and out of sight.
His nostrils flared as the scent of a terrified omega reached his alpha nose, and despite the pungent aroma, just beneath it was a smell so soft and enticing that his body was moving before his brain even processed it. 
Ransom only needed to venture halfway down the hallway before he found one of the omega rescue workers growling and cursing at you. 
Even in the tiny, barren space of your omega pen, you looked so small as you curled up in the far corner and whimpered in fear.
“Today is not the day to be difficult, you little bitch," the worker hissed as he towered over you. "Now get over here and put this on.”
He brandished a collar in one hand, and some sort of long, thin wooden stick in the other. 
Ransom’s brows furrowed in confusion as he eyed the stick before the worker wound his arm back and brought it down on your trembling figure hard enough to make Ransom wince. 
Your resulting pained cry was sharp and quiet, but your shaky plea of, “Please don’t, I’m sorry! Please don’t make me wear it. Please! I'll be good, I promise!” was so distraught and heart wrenching that Ransom was once again moving as his alpha hindbrain took charge without his permission. 
Just as the worker tried to force the collar around your scarred neck–making you sob harder–Ransom fisted the back of his shirt and violently yanked him away from you before throwing him across the room. 
The worker hit the opposite wall with enough force to make him grunt and wheeze as he dropped to his knees before staring up at Ransom with wide eyes.
“What the hell? I’m just trying to do my job—“
“She’s obviously terrified of being collared, you shit stain!” Ransom snarled, waving a hand at you and glancing over to where you were cowering and whimpering as you held your hands up to shield your neck. 
“But—“ the worker paused, wincing as bright, blinding lights began to flash. 
And that’s when Ransom realized the doorway to your pen was crowded with journalists and photographers who were taking pictures and recording the drama live. 
His face went blank as he stared back at them, spotting Tyler and Mallory just behind the crowd, looking panicked. Ransom glanced behind him, to where you were shifting closer to him to try and hide behind his legs as you continued to tremble and cry. 
Deep, deep down, where he always stuffed his alpha instincts and desires, Ransom could feel that foreign part of himself frothing to protect you.
In the heat of the moment and on the brink of a scandal, with so many eyes on him and his reputation and the future of his company on the line, Ransom leaned into that baser part of himself, just this once.
He also did what he was so good at: spun a story in his favor. 
“I told you not to touch my omega,” Ransom growled, allowing a bit of his authoritative alpha tone to bleed into his voice. “She’s obviously been through enough and she doesn’t like being handled by strangers.”
The worker’s mouth gaped as he scoffed. “What are you talking—“
But one of the journalists who were closest spoke over him, excitedly asking, “Mr. Drysdale? Did you say your omega? Has one of the country’s most eligible alphas finally chosen a mate?”
And now it wasn’t just Ransom’s inner alpha frothing, but every single member of the media standing before him, itching to break this "story."
Which meant he had them right where he wanted them. 
Ransom cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair and feigning discomfort as he glanced between you and the press, almost shyly. “Uh—“
“Excuse me, everyone,” Tyler spoke up, clapping his hands as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd and settled himself between Ransom and the journalists. “Please give Mr. Drysdale a few moments to tend to his omega, and then we’ll hold the press conference regarding Drysdale Industries' historical donation as originally planned.” 
The press simply buzzed at the words “his omega” and Ransom had to turn away to hide the way his eyes rolled. 
He allowed Tyler and Mallory to usher the press and rescue worker from the pen before he sighed and turned to you. 
You were still curled up at his feet, but you weren’t shaking as much as before as you gazed up at him with wide eyes. 
Ransom realized it quite suddenly, that you were beautiful. 
Much smaller than him, too, and so soft looking, your features lovely and your eyes so big and bright. 
And your scent. 
It wasn't spiking with fear anymore but instead a musky undertone of something that took him a moment to place. 
Hope. 
“You’re my alpha?” You quavered in a disbelieving voice. 
Huffing, Ransom crouched before you and gripped your arms, urging you to rise to your feet along with him. 
When he realized that your head barely reached the top of his chest, Ransom choked down a grunt, trying his best to shake off the wave of primal alpha desire that streaked through him as your scent grew calmer–and more tempting–with each passing second.
“Alpha?” You questioned, your brows furrowing into a sweet look of confusion as you hesitantly shifted closer to him.
Your hands were visibly trembling as they reached for him, gently pressing against his chest as your body followed your touch and swayed closer.
And it was instinctual–and so unlike him–the way Ransom shifted closer to you in return, enjoying the warm, soft press of your body against his as your scent filled his nose.
But as the distant sound of the media's impatience reached his ears, he shook himself, hard, snapping back into business mode as his fingers circled your wrists and plucked your hands from his chest. 
Ransom cleared his throat as he took a measured step away from you, his face going stern as he ducked closer to catch your wide gaze with his own.
“Look, just, stay close and be quiet, okay? Be good for me," he alpha commanded, needing you to be quiet and agreeable, the picture perfect omega just for him. "Just let me get through this press conference and we’ll figure out the details after. Can you do that?”
“Yes, alpha,” you whispered instantly, your eyes glazed and blown dark from his command as you nodded your head and told him, “I’ll do anything you want me to do.”
Grunting at the back of his throat as his cock jumped with interest at all the illicit images that confession conjured, Ransom sighed his irritation—his frustration—before gripping your bicep and leading you out of your tiny, barren omega pen.
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The press conference had been a blur for you as you stood just behind Ransom the entire time–his sweet, docile omega–as his assistant and co-worker had flanked you on either side for the duration of the event.
Now you were alone with Ransom in a black SUV, a tinted divider up and in place between the driver and the two of you in the back seat as Ransom slouched against the far door and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He hadn't said a word to you since you were alone together in your omega pen, and now irritation and stress were coming off of him in waves as he sat just a scant few feet away.
Despite his sour mood–and alpha scent–he was beautiful.
You had never seen someone so handsome. Tall and lean with broad shoulders beneath his perfectly tailored suit. His face was pale and smooth, his hair light brown and stylishly brushed back. His eyes were the brightest blue you had ever seen and the way he had spoken about the importance of giving back to the community during the press conference had made your happy-for-once heart melt.
It seemed as if Ransom Drysdale was such a good man, and you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that you were now his omega.
But you were.
And it was your job to be good for him and take care of him as much as you could in your own way.
So as Ransom's alpha scent spiked with another wave of frustration, you slowly slid closer to him. 
You knew that a mate's scent could soothe an alpha, and while you couldn't offer him your throat because of everything you had been through, you could offer him your wrist. 
So that's exactly what you did.
Ransom straightened and glanced over at you once he registered your proximity, his brow furrowing as his eyes dropped to where you were holding out your wrist for him. 
You were visibly trembling and anxious, but your scent was calm and happy as it flooded the back of the vehicle. You saw Ransom's eyes blow dark with lust and his nostrils flare as he shifted his body toward you.
He reached for your wrist as if in a trance, tugging you closer in the process as he dropped his head, touched his nose to your sensitive wrist gland, and scented you with a slow, deep inhale that made him groan.
Something deep in your center clenched in response, your inner omega trilling as your scent grew muskier, causing Ransom to take another drag as he nuzzled along the soft, delicate underside of your wrist.
When you went to snuggle close to him, he suddenly went rigid as he snapped out of his haze, shoving you away with a firm, gruff, "No."
Ignoring the way your eyes filled with tears and your scent spiked with sadness and rejection, Ransom turned away from you, closed his eyes, and breathed slowly and deeply to try and cleanse your mouth-watering scent from his system.
Because he may have put on a big show of you being his omega for the media, but that's all it was - a show, a facade.
You weren't his omega. 
He didn't want an omega.
At least that's what he kept telling himself for the rest of the drive home.
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Once you arrived at his home, Ransom had been purposefully short with you as he showed you to one of the guest rooms and told you to get cleaned up before dinner.
He didn't want to encourage your interest in him, which he could see shining from your pretty eyes every time you looked at him.
Part of him knew it was cruel, the way he was using you. He knew the sad lives omegas lived in overfilled and often abusive shelters and rescues until they were adopted.
Ransom knew that the thought of being chosen by him, of having an alpha and a new home, was likely all that you had ever dreamed of.
And for some reason, despite not really knowing you or caring about you, the thought of ripping that dream away from you–of revealing his lie–made him feel sick to his stomach.
Luckily he didn't have too much time to dwell on it as his phone rang the moment he sauntered into the living room and over to the drink cart on the far wall. 
Ransom read Mallory's name on the screen before answering the call. "Tell me you're working on a fix for this bullshit."
"Yes, sir," Mallory confirmed. "We're working on having her rehomed, far away to avoid a scandal, and then we'll have the PR team spin it to put you in the best possible light. So just hang in there, we're working on it."
"Good," Ransom grunted, knocking back a shot of whiskey. "This is why I hate this vanity PR bullshit. It always turns into a fucking fiasco. Just, take care of it. Quickly."
"Yes, sir."
Ending the call, Ransom tossed his phone aside, pouring himself another drink before turning to the floor to ceiling windows and gazing out on the dark, dense forest just beyond the perimeter of his home.
He wasn't sure how long he just stood there, staring out into the darkness, but by the time he noticed your reflection in the window just behind him, his drink was long gone and settled hot in his belly, some of the stress and distaste for the day finally easing from his system. 
Ransom eyed your reflection through the window, watching the way you nervously wrung your hands together before you as you stood swimming in one of his old t-shirts. 
He turned to get a better look at you in his clothes, feeling something hot and possessive–wanting, too–spark in his gut as he carefully set down his empty glass and watched you with a dark gaze.
You instantly perked up at his attention, a small hopeful smile curling the corner of your lips as your scent reached his nose.
You really were beautiful, if not a little scared and delicate for his tastes. 
Ransom's eyes flickered to your scarred neck, and he distantly wondered what had happened to you before his gaze was zeroing in on your unmarked mating gland.
That desirous fire deep inside of him–fanned hotter by his hyper aware alpha–burned brighter as he took a step toward you, and then another.
Once he loomed over you, you had to drop your head back to meet his gaze, and Ransom smirked–reveling in the size difference between the two of you–as your breath caught at his proximity and your eyes went big with surprise.
He knew he was playing the hot/cold game with you, but Ransom just couldn't help himself. Not now that the day was winding down and the craziness was behind him. 
Now that you were in the privacy of his home–just the two of you–and he had you standing before him looking so sweet and smelling so good, an eagerness coloring your scent because he just knew that you were desperate to please your new alpha.
And who was Ransom to deny you of something you wanted so much?
He gently held your chin in his hand, keeping your big eyes on him and drinking in all the emotions–and desire–flashing in your gaze as he asked, "Something you wanna say to me, omega?"
"Thank you," you breathed instantly, almost in relief, your hands reaching for him of their own accord despite the way he had spurned your touch earlier.
But Ransom didn't shove you away now.
Instead he dropped his grip on your face and watched the way you shuffled closer, closing the distance between the two of you before sinking against his chest and hugging him tight. 
"Thank you so much, alpha," you whispered as your cheek pressed against the front of his button up.
Ransom could hear the emotion in your words, and it made a pit sit heavy in his stomach as he remembered his phone call from just a little while ago and the fact that things were already in motion to have you sent far away. 
But you didn't know that, and you didn't need to know, not right now at least.
Right now, you could enjoy having an alpha.
And Ransom could enjoy you. He could give into his baser instincts, his own selfish desires, and enjoy you while he still could.
So he pushed the guilt deep down, letting his alpha rise to the surface as his arms encircled you and he dropped his face to nose along the crown of your head, inhaling your delectable scent as his cock jumped and started to grow hard against your hip.
"You wanna show your alpha just how grateful you are, omega?" Ransom purred against the top of your head.
Your head popped up, dropping back so you could shyly meet his gaze and nod with a whispered, "Yes, alpha." Adding a sweet, "Please," for good measure. 
Ransom grinned, his guilt a distant memory now as he took your hand and led you to his bedroom.
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AHHHH! GET READY FOR SOME ANGST WITH THIS ONE, MY PRETTIES. ALSO PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO DROP A COMMENT! THANK YOUUU! ❤️
NEXT PART
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babyjakes · 4 months
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〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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event | kinkmas 2023
prompt | mutual masturbation
pairing | best friend!ransom drysdale x reader
warnings | very innocent!reader, bordering on little!reader. soft!ran <333 specifically soft for reader. ddlg undertones tbh (no use of the word daddy but ran is daddy af and also tells reader to "be a big girl" multiple times.) reader is having orgasm troubles/anxiety. mutual masturbation (clit rubbing, jerking off through pants.) subtle humiliation vibes (not verbalized.) praise and encouragement. delayed orgasm. he steps in and helps/finishes her off. he also comes in his pants lol. they come together! :D
word count | 886
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it all starts when he overhears you on the phone with your friend, admitting you’ve never been able to make yourself come 😭
it somehow leads to him laying you out on your bed, tugging playfully at your jean shorts. “c’mon, baby. i promise, i wont make it weird. i just wanna help you”
and he’s your beeeest friend, your very best friend in the whole wide world, and you know he’s got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to this sort of thing, so you try to swallow down your humiliation and go along with it
he kneels attentively in front of you as you rest back against your pillows, shyly pulling off your bottoms. he chuckles sympathetically at your cute little pastel panties with your favorite cartoon characters on them. if it were any other girl, he'd probably make fun of them, but you've always been a sweet innocent baby in his eyes so he can't help but find it endearing 💕💕
"c'mon, cutie. don't be shy, it's just me" you try to remember that he's right; it's just your ran, your safe, wonderful ran, who you've known your whole life
you squeeze your knees together as you pull off your panties. ransom's surprisingly patient with you, "let me see, silly. can you show me how you've been doing it? i can't help unless i know what the problem is"
it takes a bit more coaxing before your knees finally fall to either side of you, revealing your perfect little petals which instantly have ran giving you the biggest heart eyes 🥺💖 "oh baby, you're so pretty down there. aww, are you a little wet, sweetheart? it's okay, don't be embarrassed" as you're squirming softly in front of him
your hands are so clumsy as you try to figure out where to even begin. he's right: you're wet (though you swear this isn't turning you on!!!) your fingers fumble around as you lamely begin poking and prodding at your leaky hole
ran raises an eyebrow at you, not sure whether or not you're playing dumb or just really this clueless. "that's it?" he asks in disbelief, clearly not impressed. you sigh, trying not to hide your face in your hands from embarrassment. "what about your clit?" noticing how you immediately grow more squirmy at his question, he calls your bluff- "come on, y/n. be a big girl and show me" 🥲🥲
you finally bring one hand up to begin rubbing carefully over your little button. you fail to hold in a soft gasp at the sudden rush of pleasure, earning a smile from the man sitting in front of you. "there you go. keep going, princess," he encourages you
as the warm, fuzzy feelings grow, you find the courage to spread yourself out a little with your other hand, giving you better access to your swelling bundle of nerves. ran's grin grows as he watches it growing and pulsating beneath your rubs
"shit, sweetheart. so fucking cute when you play with yourself like that," he curses softly, bringing one of his own hands down to begin palming himself through his pants. seeing him getting worked up by you only turns you on more. you don't even notice when your juices begin leaking down onto your bedsheets 🥲
you become more vocal, holding back fewer of your sweet little moans and whimpers. the noises you're making are clearly driving ran crazy, his pace over his impressive bulge quickening as his face flushes red. "fuck, just like that. keep rubbing that pretty little button for me, baby. look at you, you're fucking soaked"
your fingers grow faster over your throbbing clit, your breaths becoming more labored as you feel pressure beginning to build in your tummy. as soon as you recognize what's about to happen, a familiar sense of doubt hits you as your motions begin to falter. "r-ran," you choke out, big eyes looking up at him for help.
he's immediately leaning down with a worried look on his face, quickly recognizing the problem. "no, no baby, it's okay," he tries to cheer you on, "just keep going, you're almost there"
"can't do it," you frown as your poor clit twitches helplessly after being abandoned so abruptly
"yeah you can, come on. let me help," you can't even think to speak up or stop him before he's reaching down, using his own fingers to resume the stimulation. for whatever reason, you lay back and take it. "spread yourself open for me, sweetheart. just like you did before, there," he hums in approval as your hands fumble to do as he instructed. he keeps his pace steady over your hardened nub, watching as you quickly near the edge once more
"now come on, baby. be a big girl and come for me," with him towering over you, one hand gripping himself shamelessly through his pants while the other works your burning button just right, he's able to coax an orgasm out of you with just a simple command
"there it is, that's my girl," he's beaming proudly as you're finally given your release. the sight of you losing control under his simple touch and order is too much for him to handle; he comes right there in his jeans with a loud groan 😌
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blac-ivy · 4 months
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I know not every mc can be strong willed, I understand that the people you love can be your greatest weakness... But nothing pisses me off like a flimsy reader/mc.
Bro's cheated 27 times, ran over your mum, then reversed the car back over her to 'assess the damage', boiled your goldfish, waxed one of your eyebrows, let his sidechick call you the Pillsbury doughboy, his mum treats you like shit stuck to her shoe and doesn't give a fuck about you the entirety of your relationship... But as soon as mc finds the strength to move on, a kiss on your 'sweet spot' is all it takes and you're weak at the knees. This is the 21st century, be a baddie go show your panty or something like ohmygod?!?! Stand up!!.
Nothing makes me walk away from a fic as fast as seeing someone who doesn't deserve forgiveness get forgiven after doing the bare minimum, or like when they've wronged someone and they leave them but they were pregnant or something
" why didn't you tell me?'' "I deserve to know" Shut up you deserve nothing.
For the love of god, get angry, get evil, get even, throw hands if you must.
Like I don't know who I want to fight more, the characters or the writers.
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Three for One 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.
Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale
Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
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It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.
You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.
You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.
While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.
You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.
"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.
He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."
"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"
"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.
"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."
"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"
"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.
You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.
"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."
"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.
"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"
He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.
You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.
You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.
You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.
"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.
"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.
He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.
"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."
You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.
What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.
Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.
You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.
You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.
“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”
You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.
“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”
“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”
He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”
His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.
“How old is she?” You ask.
“Um,��� he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”
“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”
You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.
“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”
You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.
“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”
“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”
“Is it faster?” 
“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”
You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.
“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.
“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”
“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”
You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”
“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”
“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.
“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”
He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”
“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”
You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.
“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”
“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”
“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”
Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.
“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.
“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”
Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”
“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”
“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.
“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.
“Next week,” the first man growls.
“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”
Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.
“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.
“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.
“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”
“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”
“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”
“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”
“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”
“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.
“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”
“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”
“Two weeks?” He puffs.
“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”
“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.
“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”
“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.
“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”
“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”
“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!
“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”
He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.
“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”
“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”
You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.
“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.
“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”
He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.
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hansensgirl · 3 months
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summary. | Ransom can’t resist his innocent step-sister.
prompts. | Ransom Drysdale + Step-brother + “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” + Innocence, requested by Anonymous.
pairing. | dark!step-brother!Ransom Drysdale x innocent!fem!reader.
warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dubious consent, stepcest, orgasm (f), smut, pet names, innocence kink, corruption kink, both are of legal age, allusions to fingering, possessiveness, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics
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Ransom coos at you as you lay in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. He insisted you put it on since you’re just so pretty when you’re in his clothes. Of course, you listened to him—you love your step-brother.
And you’re a bit scared of him, too. You’ve seen how he treats his parents, but to you, he’s exceptionally kind and patient. 
You’re between his legs and watching a movie on his television, giggling at the comedic bits whenever they occur. Ransom is torn between looking at you and the film, but he settles on you ultimately. 
Ransom can’t help the way he feels about you—the darkness that takes over every time he thinks about his innocent little step-sister. He fights with the urges that spur him on, the ones that’ll wholly corrupt you and turn you into his personal plaything, despite how wrong it is.
He smoothes his large hands over both your thighs, caressing the supple skin as you sigh in delight. Your little noises are music to his ears—and he wants more. He always does.
Your step-brother slides his hands up the sweater, and he finds your panties. He plays with the lace edging and little bow on the front, making you gasp and giggle. “Ran…” you say, voice quiet and soft. He shushes you, reaching up to grab the waistband on your underwear.
Skillfully, Ransom pulls your panties off, leaving you exposed to him. Your position between his legs remains the same, except now, you open yourself up to your step-brother a little more by parting your thighs. 
Ransom’s fingers play with your folds, finding that you’re wet. He curses under his breath, wondering if you were thinking of something or someone. Was it him? It better be him. 
You’ve long ceased paying attention to the movie, instead focusing on the screen because you don’t know what else to do. You’ve never been touched like this by anyone—not even yourself—but it’s Ransom, your kind step-brother, who has taught you so much. It feels right and so fucking good.
“R– Ransom…” you whimper when he finds your clit, rubbing it gently. “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” he asks, and you nod your head. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ransom further questions. “Y- Yeah.”
He presses down a bit harder on your pearl of nerves, picking up the pace. The wet sounds of your pussy fill the room, and so do your adorable moans. Ransom’s hard cock is against your back, and he grinds it on you every now and then, desperate for some relief. 
Involuntarily, your back arches into Ransom, and he nuzzles your cheek. “Yeah, that’s it,” he urges as your whimpers become louder. He has half a mind to use his other hand to finger you, but he knows he can’t do that just yet. You’re a delicate thing, one he’ll enjoy breaking in slowly.
Instead, Ransom palms your tits through your sweater, massaging them to add to your pleasure. 
You feel as though something inside of you is building up as the tingles strengthen rapidly. You’ve never felt this way before, and you’re confused. 
“R– Ransom? Feels funny down th– there,” you tell him, voice a bit whiny. “Oh, yeah? In your pussy, princess?” he questions. “Y– Yeah, in my p– pussy,” you repeat, and he growls. “That’s normal, baby. Just let me keep touching you,” Ransom says. 
You nod and relax in his arms, limbs twitching as you approach your first-ever orgasm. You moan Ransom’s name as you come, and he realizes that he is so hard it hurts. Your step-brother makes you ride out your climax, rubbing your clit in fervour until he can tell it’s too much.
Your chest heaves as you reel from the pleasure, head lolling against Ransom’s chest. “How about we try something else, hm?” he questions, and you don’t have a chance to reply when he prods at your leaking hole. 
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krirebr · 4 months
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More Than This 1
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader
Word Count: ~4.1k
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 
“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.
“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 
You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.
“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”
Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 
“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 
“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”
Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 
“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”
At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”
Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.
He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 
“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.
Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 
Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 
You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.
When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”
At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.
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You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 
When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”
That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.
“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.
“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.
“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.
“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”
You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”
“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”
“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”
That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”
“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”
“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”
You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”
“He give you a name?”
“Ransom Drysdale.”
Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.
“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.
“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”
“But you don’t like him.”
“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”
“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”
You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”
You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  
Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”
You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”
He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”
“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 
“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”
“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”
Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”
You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.
“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.
All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”
“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”
You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”
“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.
“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.
He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.
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As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.
For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 
The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 
So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 
Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.
Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 
He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.
You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”
“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”
He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 
Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.
You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”
He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”
You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 
He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”
“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.
He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”
The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 
You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.
Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.
He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”
Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”
You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”
He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”
You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”
Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  
“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”
“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.
You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”
He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 
“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”
You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?
“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.
“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”
“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.
“Fuck,” you whispered.
He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”
At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
And then he was gone and you were alone.
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You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 
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Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 
Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”
You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 
“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 
“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”
“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”
He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”
You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”
His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”
“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.
As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.
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When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.
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Part Two
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citronbun · 7 months
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Chris Evans characters; College AU
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boxofbonesfic · 8 months
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Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]
Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader
Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!
Word Count: 3,761
A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​
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To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—
But he has.
Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse. 
“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf. 
“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.
“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine. 
He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—
Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?
He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already  mastered.  Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin. 
“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit. 
“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat. 
“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—
You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean. 
“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins. 
“Feels good not to have to pretend.” 
“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them. 
“Let me—”
“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”
The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand.  You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party. 
The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand. 
“Sweetheart?” 
You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision. 
“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”
“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify. 
Ransom stares at you confusedly. 
“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from. 
“Tell me something about the fountain.” 
“The what?” 
“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”
“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.” 
This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing. 
“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric. 
“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”
Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the  long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat. 
Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.  
Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly. 
“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open. 
“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine. 
“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head. 
“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You  a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace. 
“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”
You nod wordlessly.
Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water. 
You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin. 
“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder. 
“W-what?”
“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you  watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see. 
“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink. 
“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”
“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed. 
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”
“I think before New Years, last year.” 
“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief. 
You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening. 
Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild. 
“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.
“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”
“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you. 
“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things. 
“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.” 
“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”
“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”
“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door. 
It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore
“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.” 
You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse. 
“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.” 
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”
“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment. 
“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”
You slap him. 
The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth. 
“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight. 
This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—
You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek. 
“Just let me go, Ransom—”
“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.” 
 “You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears. 
“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly. 
“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern. 
“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”
“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.” 
He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers. 
“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”
Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair. 
“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—” 
“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater. 
Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”
to be continued…
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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
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dungeonpuppykai · 8 months
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hear me out ok the 5 cevens characters working together to fluster bunny. like randomly one morning she wakes up and she's getting it from all sides. poor bunny is teased to tears before ransom or jensen finally take some sympathy on her and let her cockwarm them while hiding her embarrassed teary eyes <3
Oh God I am melting becauseee-
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Warning(s): Somnophilia (consensual), dacryphilia, gangbang, corruption kink, p-in-v, blow job, anal, boob fucking, handjob, degredation, cockwarming.
Bunny is confused at first, (the innocence of which drives Lloyd mad), then turned on but then soon overwhelmed due to how much of a sensitive Princess she is. 
Daddies had discussed this with her a couple weeks ago with a mutual agreement that whenever it happens it will be a surprise because Bunny always has her safe word anyways.
"Hnnng~" her plugged mouth vibrates against Lloyd's cock as Ari stretches her unsuspecting and very tight pussy with a capital S. 
She's basically hanging between the huge men and being held up solely by their cocks like one of those hentais. 
Andy is grunting behind her as he wraps her hair around his fist and pushes his fat dick between her plump ass cheeks and up her much lubed pucker. 
Jensen is still praising her for being so brave as he guides her smaller hand around his girth, free hand stroking her hair which was the only consolation with all the violation going on. 
"Dirty little horn Bunny" Ari snickers from his spot as he feels her move around him. "Half asleep but still moaning and clenching around our cocks while we fuck her dumb."
Lloyd hisses as he enters her throat from his spot besides her since Ransom is thrusting between her tits.
The dark haired man grunts and curses at the sight before him as he rocks his hips against her chest, holding both of Bunny's tits together while she hangs propped up by all their cocks, panting through her nostrils. 
She's spread out and filled to all her brims like a lifeless fuck doll, lazy eyes scanning her surroundings through her still droopy eyelids. 
It goes on for hours. 
Some daddies even change positions. 
Touching, teaching, fucking, degradation and praise which is just Jensen building her up for the other daddies (and him) to crush back down. 
Bunny is a whining and crying gurgling mess by the end of it, covered in cum and tears as she trembles on her hands and knees, their juices leaking out of all her holes.
"Aw, would you look at this leaking little breeding bunny" Jensen chuckles darkly as the other Daddies enjoy the sight.
Bunny ducks her head as this rare side of Jensen makes her feel even more vulnerable, exposed and small, if it were even possible after all that.
Ransom chuckles to himself when her bottom lip wobbles and eyes tear up. 
"But she's a good breeding bunny, isn't that right?" His fingers slip through her sweaty hair as he comfortingly caresses it. 
Bunny peaks up at him only through her lashes and murmurs out a weak and broken 'yes Daddy'.
"Look at how small and pathetic she is. Nothing but a fine set of tight little holes" Lloyd's spank is cruel as it nearly echoes in the room. 
Bunny whimpers into Ransom's hand again and that is when he finally takes mercy at the fucked out sight. 
"Little Bunny can't take any more, huh? Needs Daddy to protect and take care of her?" She vigorously nods, feeling the gazes of the other Daddies almost cut her skin.
Ransom's chest swells with pride and authority when he sits on her Princess Bunny bed and pats his thigh. 
The girl obediently crawls into it before nuzzling her red face in his broad chest. 
The male positions his cock against her much well lubricated entrance before gripping her hips and lowering her down on it. 
Bunny moans and whimpers, tightening her arms around him as she clenches in defense before eventually adjusting to Ransom's thick and veiny girth, feeling him just under organs. 
It's not long before she's snoring against his chest, exhausted from the erotic episode.
Ransom continues to rock them back and forth slowly, caressing her back as he presses a reassuring kiss to the top of her head every now and then. 
The other Daddies leave but not before Ari makes the remark that she's just like a fuck doll, being turned on to serve her purpose and then going right back to idle mode when her batteries run out. 
Andy, Lloyd and Jensen snicker as they follow the giant out of the room.
Maybe they will wake her the same way later. 
With their little slut Bunny, the possibilities are endless.
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the-iceni-bitch · 2 months
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𝕳𝖊 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖎𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖞𝖗𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘
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𝙵𝚊𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚕𝚎
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕.
𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 ~ 𝙰 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜.
𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 ~ 𝙰 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎.
𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍.
Relationship: fae!Ransom Drysdale x captive!fem reader
Words: ~1.6k
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (public sex, fingering, spanking, mention of oral sex and unprotected vaginal sex), mind control, mean!Ransom, SMUT! 18+ ONLY
A/N: ooooooh I love him. Enjoy you guys!
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Ransom leaned back on his throne as the human king in front of him droned on and on, sighing deeply as he swirled his golden wine on its goblet and watched it catch the light.
Gods but these humans with all their problems were boring. Always with their meager excuses why they couldn’t pay their dues to the high fae king. It was too cold for crops. The cows weren’t producing milk. The rivers were frozen and halted trade. Blah blah blah blah blah.
At least his throne was comfortable. More of a chaise than a throne, with gilded legs and arms worked into intricate patterns and piled with cushions of silk and velvet. The wine was excellent as well, and the fruits brought to him by the servants were succulent and ripe. It all would have been very nice if it weren’t for the incessant whinging of the man in front of him.
There was only one thing that could cure his boredom.
“I do not care how supposedly terrible the winter was, you have responsibilities to me and to your people. If you cannot pay with gold or crops, I will have to take my dues in some other way,” Ransom held up a finger to silence the lesser king when he opened his mouth again, turning to one of the lower fae who made up his court and grinning wickedly. “Bring me my kitten.”
“What else could you possibly want?” The human king looked angry, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched the fairy king rest on his rich throne and enjoy the fruits of the lands of always summer. It was an affront that he required payment for the protection of the human lands when he was enjoying such wealth. “I have nothing else to offer, I…”
The words froze in his throat when the door to the throne room opened, all the blood draining from his face and terror taking him when he caught sight of you.
It was supposed to just be a rumor, that the fae would take your firstborn if you couldn’t fulfill your oaths. But here you were, a former crown princess being led on a gilded leash as she prowled on all fours towards the fairy king. You wore nothing but a golden collar and soft kitten ears, and the human king felt his stomach churn when he saw a matching tail that could only possibly be held in place in a certain way. He couldn’t decide whether he should look away or not, this was the most obscene display he had ever witnessed.
“There’s my precious little kitten,” Ransom beamed when your eyes lit up at the sight of him, taking your leash from his courtier and patting his thrones until you hopped up onto it and stretched out in front of him. “That’s my good princess, did you have a lovely bath?”
“Mmhm,” You arched your back and purred when he gently traced his long fingers along your jaw, whining softly when they began to drag down your throat. “Nice and clean for you, Daddy.”
“I can tell, kitten,” Ransom chuckled when you let him slip his other hand between your thighs, spreading them wide so your pussy was on display for his entire court. “Clean and already wet, my eager little girl. Ah ah, you fucking look at her,” He scolded the human king when he started to look away as Ransom began to pet your quivering cunt, kissing the top of your head and sliding the hand on your throat lower so he could fondle your breasts. “She enjoys being shown off so you watch. And stop looking so concerned, she loves this. She’s spoiled rotten, doesn’t even remember her old life or her family unless I lift the hold I have on her mind. You’re happy, aren’t you, kitten?”
“Mmm, yes Daddy,” You squeaked and writhed against him when he tweaked one of your nipples, your pussy gushing all over his fingers when he gave it a gentle pat before he started to pet you again. “Can I have cream? Oh please, Daddy?”
“Later, little one, I’ll give you more cream than you can swallow,” Ransom’s smile grew even more cruel when the human king gagged at that, rubbing your pussy faster until you choked on your purrs. “My sweet, stupid little thing.”
You mewed and looked over your shoulder at him with widened eyes, panting when he squeezed your breast and spreading your legs even wider for him. The expression on your face was one of pure love and adoration. The fairy king was your whole world. Every second you were apart from him was pure torment, and every second you were with him was pure bliss. Your body responded to him like it did to nothing else, only he knew how to touch you and work you up until you could think of nothing but the unimaginable pleasure that would rage through your body.
Ransom could tell you were starting to lose it, his gaze shifting between you and the uncomfortable human king as he drew you towards your peak. He was enjoying the way both of you were squirming, you with ecstasy and the king with disgust. Showing you off to his court was thrilling enough, but he truly enjoyed using you to show his dominion over his human subjects. They all thought they could get away with whatever they wanted, but you were proof that they never would.
He smacked your clit and cooed at you when you came apart for him, kissing your cheek gently and making sure the lesser king was watching while your pussy fluttered and gushed all over the throne. You whimpered and sucked on your bottom lip when he asked you if you wanted more, letting him turn you onto your stomach and slip his thumb into your mouth while your eyes drifted closed. Ransom stroked your back a few times before he began to give you soft, quick spanks, taking a rest every few slaps to rub your pussy or gently tug on your tail plug. His gaze never left the human king though, chuckling along with the rest of his court when the man turned bright red at having to continue to witness your humiliation.
“Such anger in you humans,” Ransom hushed you when you whined as one of his spanks landed directly on your sensitive pussy. “Before I laid my web over her mind my little kitten was angry too, now look at how happy she is,” he finished spanking you and slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you, smiling when you clenched around him immediately before starting to slowly fuck you with them. “Imagine how happy your son will be once he becomes my puppy. Would you like a playmate, pretty kitten?”
The kings horrified grunt was drowned out by your mewl of assent, your back arching as you pushed your hips into the air so he could have all the access he needed. You would do anything he asked of you, sucking harder on his thumb as he slid a third finger inside you to stretch you even wider. Ransom cocked his head when the king started to tremble with rage, feeling the energy coming off the man and shivering at the pleasure he derived from eliciting such a reaction. He couldn’t resist the urge to rile him up even further.
“Just think how lovely your son will look with his own little tail. I think I’ll have him fuck my little kitten for the court’s amusement, what a pretty sight that would be,” the king looked as if he was thinking of killing Ransom, as if he could harm him in any way. “And once he’s filled her tiny cunt and worn her out he can suck my cock like a good boy. He’ll sleep at the foot of my bed and fetch my slippers just like a loyal dog should.”
“Stop,” the thought of his son being subjected to such degradation made him want to be sick, but he couldn’t let his people starve either. “Stop this. I will kill you if you touch my son.”
“Are you going to keep your oaths to me then?” A fourth finger pushed inside you and you sobbed around Ransom’s thumb, drooling all over his hand and yourself while you squirted in your climax. “Because the only other option you have is to give up my protection. You should ask my kitten’s father how that went for him, how much of his kingdom was lost to those barbarian goblins before he finally let me take her from him so I would drive them back, how many of his subjects children were taken by the wisps and sprites before I secured the border between our realms. I will give you until sunset on the morrow to make your decision, leave me now.”
Ransom drew you into his lap after pulling his hand out of your fluttering pussy, kissing your nose and telling you how beautiful you were as his guards escorted the beleaguered king from his hall. He already knew what the man’s answer would be, and he looked forward to fitting his son with a jeweled collar and watching you welcome his new pet.
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mavsstar · 1 year
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。・゚𝐎𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫
Summary︱Ransom comes to spend the holidays with his twin brother, Andy and his fiancé. He can't stand her at all despite her being one of the sweetest people on the earth. Turns out all they needed was to bond.
Pairings︱Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Virgin!Fem!Reader
W.C︱2.8k
Warnings︱It's Ransom, that a big warning in itself, cursing, kissing, pet name: kitten, manipulation, slight coercion (if you blink you'll miss it), oral (f!), cheating, daddy kink
Author's note︱It's been too long and now I'm finally back! This was fun to make and I've had this idea in my head for weeks now! Have fun reading :) Feedback is appreciated!
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You adored your fiancé Andy, he was a kindhearted gentleman that loved you with his entire being. You couldn’t ask for more in a man. Everyone around him approved of you and liked you quite a lot.
Well most of them. 
The only person who couldn’t get on board was his twin, Ransom. Though the feelings were mutual. You thought he was too crude and he thought you were too much of a prude. Unlike him, you’ve never vocalized your dislike towards him, preferring to be kind to him even if you wanted to sew his mouth shut. 
The good part was you rarely got to see the man. You were safe from seeing his face anywhere you went. That was until Andy came home with a surprise. 
“Ransom is going to spend the holidays with us this year.” 
You froze. “Excuse me?” 
“There’s too much going on and I won’t be able to make it home this year and Ransom doesn’t want to go spend the holidays with the family,” Andy began to explain, “I don't want him to be alone so I invited him to stay with us.” 
“Which holidays?” You asked, hoping it would just be Thanksgiving. 
“All of them.” 
It felt like someone dropped an anvil on you. He was going to spend at least a month with you in your shared house, day and night. “And he said yes?” You questioned, surprised he even gave Andy an answer. 
“I was surprised too,” he answered. “He’s coming on Thursday.” 
It was Tuesday, meaning you only had a day to prepare. You dropped your shoulders in defeat. “I better start preparing the guest room,” you said as you got up from the couch. 
Andy grabbed your arm as you tried to walk past him, pulling you into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Look I know you two aren’t the best of friends and it’ll be difficult but I want him here with us. Maybe after he really gets to know you, you’ll get along.”
“There’s a better chance of me growing another inch than us getting along.” 
Thursday came a little bit too fast for your liking. One moment you were talking with Andy about Ransom and within a blink of an eye you were at the airport, waiting for him. His flight landed 15 minutes ago and most of the passengers were already off. But he just had to make a fashionably late entrance. 
“There’s my little brother!” Ransom exclaimed. 
“You’re older by a minute,” Andy said as he got up from his seat. 
“A minute and 10 seconds.” Ransom’s answer made Andy playfully roll his eyes. Ransom then turned his attention to you, flashing you a fake smile. “Look who’s here! Did you shrink while I was away? I almost didn’t see you.” 
It was early in the morning. Even more so to be dealing with Ransom’s remarks. You resisted the burning urge to roll your eyes at him. “It’s nice to see you Ransom, I hope you had a nice flight.” 
“It was the absolute worst actually-” He began to complain but it all became white noise to your brain. You just nodded your head as he complained, occasionally saying that must’ve sucked just to make it seem like you were actually paying attention. 
For the first couple of days Andy was able to keep him busy and out of your way but he had to go back to work, leaving you with him all day. At first he would stay for only part of your day, often going out to do something other than being in the house with you. Eventually he just stayed around the house more and more. 
“Are you seriously reading again?” Ransom asked as he plopped down next to you on the couch. 
You quickly tore your gaze from your book to look at Ransom. “Mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, going back to reading your book. 
“Weren’t you just reading this morning?” He asked. 
“I was finishing the last couple of pages. Andy doesn’t like it when I lose sleep to finish reading,” you answered. “This is a different book.” 
“Can I see?”’ He asked with complete sincerity. You then handed him the book only for him to throw it across the room, earning a small ‘Hey!’ from you. “Well stop reading, I’m bored.” 
“What do you want to do?” You asked him as you fully turned your body towards his. 
“If I knew what to do I wouldn’t be here, telling you I’m bored.” 
You decided to ignore his comment and pretend like he never said it in the first place. “Well…we could go grocery shopping.” 
“Grocery shopping? Really?” He questioned, unamused at your suggestion. Much to his dismay, he saw that you were 100% serious. “Fine, let's go.” 
The drive to the grocery store was longer than necessary. Ransom refused to let you drive, part of you figured it was an ego thing but he claimed that a man should always drive. Never the woman. He also refused to use a map, claiming that he knew where he was going. 
After 25 minutes of driving in circles, you finally got to the grocery store. It was practically empty, not a lot of people wanted to do their weekly grocery shopping at 7:27 pm. 
“Now that I’ve been thinking about it, you’re always at the house,” Ransom commented. “Do you not have a job?” 
“Not anymore,” you said as you pushed the cart towards the dairy section. “I used to be a secretary.” 
“Why’d you quit?” 
“Andy said I didn’t have to work anymore and he would take care of me.” You grabbed a gallon of milk and crossed it off your mental grocery list. You started to push the cart down the section towards the produce. “It was too overwhelming for me and Andy didn’t like that I was so stressed out.” 
“How hard can that be?” Ransom scoffed. 
“It’s a lot harder than you think Ransom,” you replied. “It didn’t help that I was one of the few women there. I had a terrible boss.” 
“What do you do all day then? Just sit there and look pretty while you wait for Andy to come home?” 
“I clean, run some errands, go out—I do the same things you do but you don’t seem the type of person to clean or run errands.” 
“Why would I?” He scoffed. “That's why I hired a maid and an assistant to do all that for me.” 
“Not surprised trust fund baby,” you muttered under your breath. 
“What did you say?” Ransom asked, having fully heard you. 
You looked up at him, “Oh nothing,” you lied, you even went as far as to pull out doe eyes. “Oh we need bread!” 
 “No, no, no,” Ransom repeated as he grabbed your upper arm, halting you from moving any further. “Repeat what you said.” 
“I said we need bread.” 
“Before that.” 
“I said nothing,” you answered, unknowingly pushing his buttons in the sweetest way imaginable. 
His hand traveled up your upper arm to your cheeks, slightly squishing them together as he inched closer to your face. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips.
“Kitten, repeat what you said, I’m not going to ask again.” 
Your lips parted open but no sound came out. You felt heat pooling from the pit of your stomach rising to your face. You tried to peel your eyes away from his only for him to chase after them. 
“I-I said, not surprised trust fund baby,” you mumbled loud enough so he could hear it.  
The corner of his lip tugged into a sly smirk, “See now was that so hard?” He asked as he dropped his hand. “Good girl.” 
Ransom evoked a spark inside him that night. He noticed how your body went hot under his touch and he loved it. It was as if you have been untouched and you’re just now tasting a man’s touch. You would grow shy under his gaze if he stared at you for too long. You would jump every time his hands brushed your body. 
Ransom’s favorite part was when he would inch his face close to yours and your eyes would dart to his lips right before going back to his eyes. 
Though part of him couldn’t help but think it was all an act. There was no possible way a woman like you could be so innocent. That you would pretend to get flustered everytime he made a sexual innuendo. That you would get uncomfortable and squirm in your seat everytime a sex scene came on. 
It had to be an act. 
Like right now, you were in the kitchen cooking food for you and Ransom. You were wearing Andy’s sweater with a pair of small pj shorts and Ransom had made a crude comment. 
“You and Andy must've had crazy kitchen counter sex if that’s what you wear to cook.” 
“Oh my,” you squeaked out. “We don’t–uh–Andy and I-” 
“Oh please drop the act,” he scoffed.
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What act?” 
“That!” Ransom exclaimed. “The pretending you’re all innocent and being such a fucking prude. Everyone has sex, it’s normal.” 
Except you haven’t had sex yet. You always wanted to wait until marriage for personal reasons and Andy didn’t mind one bit. He completely respected your decision and liked the idea of waiting, it’s building tension the two of you would unleash on your wedding night. 
“It’s not an act Ransom,” you answered. “I just don’t feel comfortable talking about…it.”
“You’re kidding me right?” He remarked. He took your silence as a no. Then the realization slowly crept in his mind. “Unless…” 
“Unless what?” You questioned. 
“Unless you’re a virgin? But that’s impossible…right?” His tone was teasing and almost humiliating. 
You felt the shame burn your cheeks and you imagined the words ‘virgin’ written in big red bold letters across your forehead. People have assured you that it’s okay to be a virgin and everyone takes life at a different speed. You were just getting comfortable with it. 
“Answer me kitten.” 
“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 
Ransom swallowed the last 4 steps that were between the two of you. His right hand went under your chin, softly lifting it up. “So he’s never touched you?” Ransom asked as his left hand slowly began to graze your body. 
“No.” Your breath hitched when his large hand rested on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You bumped into his chest with a soft grunt. His hands went to your back when he felt you shift backwards, caging you against him.
“Please let me go Ransom,” you softly pleaded as you tried to pry him off. 
“No,” he said as his head dipped to your neck, placing fervent kisses. “You want this and you know it.” 
“No–ngh–I can’t do this to Andy.” 
Ransom stopped the attack on your neck. You could see it in his face that he was bothered at the mention of his twin brother. “We’re not doing anything bad, kitten. We’re just having fun, you want us to get along, don’t you?” 
“This is bad Ransom, I’m cheating on my fiance,” you protested. “I can’t do this.” Ransom had you in his grip and he wasn’t going to lose you. He refused to. 
“Andy’s cheating on you,” he blurted out. 
“What?” You questioned him. 
“It’s obvious, kitten. How else was he going to stay with you? He’s a man after all and men have needs.” 
"You’re lying,” you argued. “Why should I believe you?” 
“Because I’m his brother and I know the type of person he is.” His hands went underneath your sweater, slithering their way up to your breasts. “So I think we can have some fun. It wouldn’t be fair after all.” 
Ransom’s lips crashed onto yours before you could give an answer. You tasted like the strawberries you were eating just mere minutes ago. With every passing second, his kisses grew hungrier. 
“Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obeyed and lifted yourself off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He blindly stumbled into your bedroom. Carefully, he set you on the bed and unbeknownst to you, he had taken off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. 
His warmed calloused hand went to your thighs, spreading them as fast apart as he could. You were completely soaked. Ransom bit back a moan. “Oh kitten,” he purred. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” Ransom planted open mouth kisses on your ankle, working his way up to your inner thighs. Your head felt dizzy and your body was high off of his touch. When you felt Ransom kiss your cunt, you knew you were a goner. 
“Ransom,” you moaned out. 
“That’s not my name kitten,” Ransom murmured. He looked up at you through his eyelashes as he licked around your pussy lips. “It’s daddy. Now say it.” 
“Please daddy,” you whined. 
“If you stop saying it, I stop. Got it?” 
You rapidly nodded your yes, not trusting your own voice. You let out a strangled moan as Ransom licked a broad stripe against your pussy. 
“You taste so fucking sweet,” Ransom let out a moan of satisfaction, sending vibrations through you, making it more pleasurable than you ever imagined. 
Incoherent babbles left your mouth as he made precise, figure eights on your clit. You couldn’t help but lock your legs around his head, never wanting him to leave. You lazily propped yourself up on the bed to watch Ransom but it all went out the window when his lips sucked on your clit. 
“Oh my god!” You shrieked, your head falling back on the mattress. “Daddy! Feel s’good!” 
Ransom momentarily lifted his head, watching your blissed out state. “I know it does kitten,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Andy could never make you feel like this huh?” 
“No.” 
“I wonder how he would feel that I’m eating his pretty fiancé’s pussy? Making her scream daddy.” Ransom dipped his head back down and went at it again.
 His tongue goes through your fold, licking all your sweet wetness. You felt a familiar sensation only this time it was coming faster and harder. This felt nothing like this when you would play with yourself. 
“Oh daddy!” You screwed your eyes shut as you gripped the sheets. Your lower half took a mind of its own as you began to rock your hips against his face, chasing your high. A gasp fled your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Suddenly the only word you knew was daddy, repeating it as if it was a prayer. 
“How was that, kitten?” Ransom teasingly asked. “Did daddy make you feel good?” 
“Mhm,” you blissfully hummed out. “S’good.” 
“That’s my girl,” Ransom praised as he pulled your shorts back up. “You did so good for me.” Ransom enjoyed watching you, you were spaced out and he didn’t even put his all into it. He could only begin to imagine how you would react when he really got done with you. 
“Now let's go finish cooking before Andy comes home.” He kissed you lips one more time before helping you off the bed.
Andy surprisingly came home earlier than he said he would. Usually would come home at 12, it was currently 10:06 pm. You had barely finished washing the dishes when you heard the door unlock.
“Hi honey!” Andy greeted you as walked over to kiss you. You turned your head to the side and his lips collided with your cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned at your behavior. 
“Nothing,” you answered. “I’m heading off to bed, I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” 
“Goodnighttt,” Ransom sang as you left the room. 
“Goodnight Ransom.” 
Andy waited until you left the room to talk to Ransom. Once he saw he was in the clear, he turned to Ransom. “What the hell did you say to her?” 
“Nothing, why?”  Ransom asked, playing the innocent. “Trouble in paradise?” 
“Drop the act Ransom.” Andy stepped closer to him, placing his hands on his hips. “We were fine a couple days ago and now she’s acting weird. What did you do to her?” 
“I did nothing,” he said as he raised his hands in defense. 
Andy knew he was lying. If he really was telling the truth, he would’ve told him off and stormed off cursing at how his own brother doesn’t believe him. 
“Stay away from her,” Andy seethed through gritted teeth. “Don;t even think about laying a finger on her.” 
“Or what? You’re going to kick me out?” Ransom scoffed. “I saw her first and you took her away from me. I’m simply getting back what’s mine.” 
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