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[beardedmrbean]

[theman]

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

[tattooedzombigirl]

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

[imanutcase-10]

Then bring me luck

[thirddeadlysin]

the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work

[icantbearsedtothinkofone]

Hey Potato, cure my -ing cold so I can have a good time while away.

[dduane]

Here's the potato. Make what use of it you will. :)

[jerico3193]

[frizz01percy]

this should be the most reblogged post on tumblr before it dies

[xan-thos-blog]

We need to reblog this so much that the post breaks

[bittymoonbear-deactivated201807]

Do not like

[secret-unicorn-sierra-blog]

Keep. Reblogging.

[dawn-machine-official]

If we reblog enough we could save it

[vwidjojo]

Reblogged at 1.7 M notes

[weirdo09]

reblogged at 1.8M notes

[earhartsease]

how did this lose over 5k notes

[cybermax]

I’m glad we cost Yahoo 2 billion dollars.

[cybernetic-divinity-deactivated]

it’s like a perfectly preserved body at Pompei

[jjsbizarreadveyj]

Finding this on my normal dash is like taking a stroll through the Park and suddently stumbeling upon the Codex Hammurabi just lying there.

[pancakeswithbutterandsyrup]

@mr-cleans-last-hair-follicle did u know Aidan had an emo phase??!!

[mr-cleans-last-hair-follicle]

HE DID?????

What's really funny Abt this post is I'm literally wearing an MCR shirt rn😭🙏

[pancakeswithbutterandsyrup]

HE DID-

I FOUND THESE FOR U

[i-have-the-best-url]

“It’s not a phase mom!!” ass 😭😭

[pancakeswithbutterandsyrup]

LMAO I CANT-

THE EYELINER 😭😭

[tiredv0idd]

he would play snakelike by whatsaheart-/j

[pancakeswithbutterandsyrup]

HEHE

[tiredv0idd]

heyyy new friend :))

@pancakeswithbutterandsyrup

Also I’m loving brisket five as your pfp b/c he’s best five :))

[merthosus]

Cigarette Duett

Summary: As you finally get yourself comfortable after a long day, you were smoking a cigarette out of the window. Even though you Five scared you to death suddenly appearing behind you, the conversation between you two gets very intense.

Thank you for your lovely request! Also, here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

“You know those things are going to kill you one day, don't you?”

Your arms are covered in goose bumps, but you didn't mind. You were clearly too lazy to get yourself a sweater. You wouldn't stay at the window for more than two minutes anyway. You pull your long-sleeved T-shirt further down your arms in order to save every spark of warmth. The long drag on the cigarette makes your upper body rise up. You knew it wasn't good for you, but it had long since become a habit.

Each puff also brought a sense of security, the smell reminded you of your parents. Every time your lips touched the orange filter, your brain remembered a long hug from your mother. How comfortingly warm her closeness was, as a child you hated the smell of cigarettes. But now you miss it more than anything. No white walls are white anymore, no curtains are free of nicotine stains and no ashtray is empty. But you were different like them, you were very careful not to let a bit of smoke into the house.

It no longer mattered if Reginald found out you smoked, you were old enough and he was dead. None of the siblings thought it was great that you got your satisfaction that way, but they didn't judge you. Everyone took Klaus as a bad example and was glad that it was only cigarettes and not other things that Klaus offered you from time to time. But watching Klaus destroy himself piece by piece always made you turn down his offers.

Another strong puff made your cough seem all the louder when you were suddenly startled by the hand lying on top of you. It had been placed gently on your shoulder, with no intention of alarming you. As you turn around, coughing, you see Five standing in front of you, his face covered in a scowl. You try to hide the cigarette behind your back, as best you can without setting yourself on fire. “What are you doing here? It's pretty late, isn't it?” you ask him as you try to swallow the last few coughs. “You know those things are going to kill you one day, don't you?” Five asks you.

“If the apocalypse isn't quicker,” you smile a little and take the cigarette from your back again. “How did you know I was here?” you ask him, confused. “You can see the clouds of smoke from below,” he says as he tilts his head a little. When there is a brief but pleasant silence, he stands next to you and looks out of the window. “Could I steal one for you?” he asks. You weren't prepared for this question at all, your mouth opens slightly only to close again immediately afterwards.

“You smoke?” you ask him, perplexed. “Being stuck in the apocalypse for 45 years changes you. I found a few packs of Marlboro in an abandoned grocery store,” he tells you, before stealing one from your golden pack. You had no aider wall than to giggle. Five looks at you in confusion, trying to find a hold in your eyes. “What?” he asks, stunned. “I don't know, you're the last person I'd expect that from,” you smirk as you look at him with wide eyes.

Five lights the cigarette with a practiced flick of his wrist, the small flame briefly illuminating his face before he inhales deeply, the glow from the tip casting a faint red hue on his sharp features. The sight of him smoking is jarring, a reminder of just how much he’s changed—how much you’ve all changed. But there’s something oddly comforting in the shared habit, a small connection in the midst of all the chaos.

“Guess the apocalypse has a way of bringing out the worst in people”, Five says, exhaling a plume of smoke that mingles with the cold night air. He turns to you, his gaze softer than usual, the scowl that usually defines his expression replaced by something more contemplative. “Or maybe it just strips us down to who we really are". You lean against the windowsill, taking another drag from your cigarette as you let his words sink in. “And who are we really, Five? A bunch of broken kids trying to survive in a world that keeps falling apart?”.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, the sound tinged with a trace of sadness. “Maybe. But we’re still here, aren’t we? Still fighting, still trying to hold it all together. That’s got to count for something”. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound the quiet hiss of burning tobacco and the distant hum of the city below. It’s strange, being here with Five like this—no time travel, no saving the world, just two people sharing a quiet moment. It feels almost normal, a fleeting glimpse of what life might have been like if things had been different.

The silence between you and Five stretches on, comfortable yet charged with something unspoken. The night air is crisp, carrying the distant sounds of a city that seems almost peaceful in its slumber. You take another slow drag from your cigarette, watching as the smoke curls into the darkness, and for a moment, you allow yourself to imagine that this is what normal feels like—a quiet night, shared between two people who understand each other in ways no one else ever could.

Five’s presence beside you is steady, grounding, but there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you now, as if he’s searching for something, maybe even a sign. You glance at him, catching his eye just as he turns to look at you, and for a brief moment, the world outside fades into nothingness. It’s just the two of you, suspended in time. “Do you ever wonder…” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, “what it would have been like if none of this had happened? If we’d just been... normal?”

Five takes a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours. When he exhales, the smoke drifts lazily between you, but his gaze remains sharp, unwavering. “All the time,” he admits, his voice rough but honest. “But normal was never in the cards for us, was it?". You shake your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “No, I guess not". Your mind wanders to what it would have been like without all the superhero stuff. “Do you think we would have got on well without the circumstances?” you ask him. Imagining what it would have been like makes you happy.

Five takes a moment to consider your question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he contemplates the idea. The cigarette dangles loosely between his fingers, forgotten for the moment as his thoughts drift. “Honestly?” he finally says, his voice low and thoughtful. “I don’t know. Maybe we would have been just like any other siblings—fighting over the TV remote, complaining about chores. Or maybe we’d still be this…complicated.”

The way he says “complicated” makes you chuckle, and you’re surprised at how light it sounds, even in the midst of such a heavy conversation. “Yeah, complicated seems to follow us around,” you agree, flicking the ash from your cigarette out the window. “But I think we would have been alright. Maybe even better friends than we are now”. Five raises an eyebrow at that, a hint of amusement in his expression. “You think so? You’re forgetting that we’re all a little messed up, even without the superhero baggage.”

“True,” you concede with a shrug, “but I think there’s more to us than just the mess. Maybe without all the pressure, we’d have found a way to be close. Or maybe…” You trail off, suddenly unsure if you should finish that thought. “Maybe what?” Five presses, his curiosity piqued. You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip as you try to decide whether or not to say it. Finally, you decide to take a chance. “Maybe we’d have found something even better than friendship,” you say quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

You feel your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat as your words sink in. The cigarette in your hand burns down to the filter, forgotten, as you meet his gaze—those sharp, piercing eyes softened now with an emotion that feels almost vulnerable. Five doesn’t respond right away, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake by saying it. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn to face you fully, his gaze intent and searching. “Something better?” he echoes, his voice tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place.

You nod, still not quite able to look at him. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always felt… I don’t know, like there was something between us. Even with everything else going on. Something that might have been different if things hadn’t been so complicated". There’s a long silence, during which you can feel your heart beating in your chest, loud and fast. You’re not sure what you expect him to say—or if he’ll say anything at all—but the anticipation is almost unbearable.

Then, slowly, you feel Five’s hand on your chin, gently turning your face towards him. When you finally meet his eyes, you see a softness there that takes you by surprise. “Maybe you’re right,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Maybe we would have found something…better". Your heart races as Five's hand lingers on your chin, his touch both gentle and deliberate. The intensity in his eyes holds you captive, and for a moment, the world outside fades into irrelevance. It's just you and him, standing together in this quiet moment that feels suspended in time.

Five's gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the internal struggle in his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty, and something deeper, something he’s never allowed himself to acknowledge before. You realize that, like you, he’s been holding back, keeping walls up to protect himself from the complexities of your lives. But now, in this fleeting moment, those walls seem to be crumbling. “Maybe,” he repeats, his voice softening further, “maybe we’ve been running from this—whatever this is—for too long.”

You barely manage to nod, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in. You’ve always known there was something between you, something unspoken but powerful, simmering beneath the surface. And now, it feels like you’re both on the edge of something new, something that could change everything. Five’s thumb gently strokes your chin, his eyes never leaving yours. The cigarette between his fingers burns down to ash, forgotten as he leans in, closing the small distance between you. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, and your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation swirling in your veins.

Then, with a tenderness you never expected, Five presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s still unsure if this is real, if this is something he can allow himself to want. But as your lips move together, the hesitation melts away, replaced by a flood of emotion that neither of you can hold back any longer. You respond in kind, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. There’s a desperation to it, as if you’re both trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments you could have had if things had been different. The world around you blurs into insignificance—there’s only the two of you, here and now, in this shared moment that feels like both a beginning and an end.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Five’s eyes are closed, his expression a mix of relief and something else—something that looks like hope, like he’s finally found a piece of himself that he didn’t know was missing. “Maybe complicated isn’t so bad after all,” you whisper, your voice shaky but filled with a newfound certainty.

Let me know if you like a part 2 :)

[merthosus]

Birthday Cake

Summary: After your fingers slip and you drop Grace Cake, your boyfriend yells at you and takes his anger out on you. After you had scraped up the cake, you were on your way out to your car. But someone was already waiting for you with a new cake in their hand.

This Story is inspired by this Tic Tok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeTPh561/

“You don’t need to apologize for his behavior”

Tentatively, you looked around for your boyfriend to see if he had seen it. But before you could even turn your head in his direction, you felt his hand on your cheek. You recoiled and sat on the floor in front of him. No one had noticed, everyone was watching Grace trying to smash the piñata. You now felt like the piñata too, only less colorful. However, you were very glad that the attention of the others wasn't on you at the moment.

“How can you be so useless?” he asked you as he took a few steps towards you. The loud children's music drowned out his shouting in the crowd. With every step he took towards you, you slipped back a little, until at some point you felt the wall behind you. That he reacted like this was nothing new to you. You knew he had an anger problem, but you always tried to look on the bright side. He just didn't want you to fail. Several nights went by as he knelt at your feet and cried. He said he'd never do it again and you couldn't help but look into his tear-filled eyes and believe him.

“Get another one! Everyone will hate you. How can you be so stupid and clumsy?” he yells at you. Before you even realized it, tears were streaming down your cheek. "The whole evening is ruined because of you!", he yells. Your heart was arching, like someone took it out, squeezed it and rammed it in again.

The sting of his words cut deeper than you could have ever imagined. You had felt small before, but now you felt insignificant, like a shadow of yourself, barely holding onto the edges of who you used to be. The tears kept coming, unbidden, each one a silent cry for help that you knew would go unanswered. You had seen this side of him before, the anger, the cruelty, but each time it reared its head, it still managed to catch you off guard, leaving you defenseless and hollowed out.

You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself, to make him see that it was just an accident, that you hadn’t meant to mess things up. But the words were trapped in your throat, choked off by the fear and the heartbreak. The only thing that came out was a small "I am sorry". “Get up!”, he hissed, his voice low and venomous. “Get up and go get another one. Fix this!”. Your legs felt like they were made of lead, too heavy to move, but you forced yourself to stand, your body shaking as you did. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the wall and never have to face him again, but you knew that wasn’t an option. Not now, not ever. You had learned long ago that running from his anger only made it worse.

As you stumbled toward your car, your keys jingling in your trembling hand, you felt the weight of everything crashing down on you. The second your hand touched the handle, you collapsed, all the fear, frustration, and oppression pouring out of you. You were no stranger to this feeling, after bottling it all up, it always found a way to break free. But this had never happened in public before. Usually, it was in the privacy of your bed, next to him, the very source of your pain.

Your sobs were quiet but intense, shaking your entire body. "Everything alright?" A soft voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, startling you. You looked up, wiping at your tear-streaked face in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of your breakdown.

“Five?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and raw. “I… I’m fine. I just...” You tried to smile, but it wavered, crumbling under the weight of everything you were trying to hold back. Your fingers are still clutching the keys in your hand to stop them from rattling constantly, but your mounting trembling made that an unfinishable task. “I saw it,” he says without batting an eyelid.

Five’s eyes were steady and serious as he looked at you, not buying your attempt to downplay what had happened. His voice was soft but firm, cutting through the pretense you had tried to maintain. “I saw it,” he repeated without batting an eyelid, his gaze piercing through the façade you’d constructed. You looked away, feeling a rush of shame and helplessness. The truth was too raw, too vulnerable to confront head on. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, the words feeling inadequate and hollow. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Five stepped closer, his presence a steadying force amidst your chaos. He walks closer to you, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. “You don’t need to apologize for his behavior,” he said, his voice gentle but unwavering. “You’re not at fault here. You deserve to be treated with respect, not anger and blame.” You could hardly process his words through the fog of your distress, but something about his unflinching support made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been in a long time. For the first time, someone was standing up for you, not just against your boyfriend, but for your own sense of self-worth.

As Five reached out, his hand brushed away the tears on your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the cruelty you’d just experienced. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, not just from sadness, but from a kind of relief you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel. Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of hope and fear. The vulnerability you felt was overwhelming, but Five’s gaze was soft, reassuring, and unwavering. “You’re not alone,” he said softly. “I’m here. And I care.”

Five’s words wrapped around you like a warm blanket in the midst of a storm. The compassion in his eyes, so genuine and unwavering, offered a refuge from the harshness you had just endured. The tears you had been holding back continued to fall, but now they were mingled with the relief of someone truly understanding your pain.

He gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly soothing. You leaned into his palms, finding comfort in his proximity. His thumb brushed away the remnants of your tears, and his gaze never wavered from yours. The intensity of his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t just offering sympathy, he was offering support, something you desperately needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice quivering. The gratitude in your heart was immense, but words seemed inadequate. Five simply nodded, his expression softening even more. Without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and reassuring. The kiss was gentle at first, a sweet promise of understanding and care. But as you both sank into the moment, the kiss deepened, fueled by the raw emotions that had been building up inside you. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, as if trying to convey all the feelings that words couldn’t express. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth of his embrace.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The kiss became more fervent, an exploration of comfort and connection that transcended the pain you had just experienced. It was a moment of shared solace, a physical manifestation of the support he had offered with his words. Eventually, the kiss softened, but neither of you wanted to let go. Five’s arms wrapped around you, holding you securely as you rested your forehead against his.

But both of you, so tangled in the moment, didn't see the two eyes, sharply watching you two.

Thanks for reading love :)

[ramblingloon]

Chapter Two: A Modern Plague

It's been three years since you and Roshan had tied the knot. You lounge on the expensive chaise longue, looking distantly through the grand window overlooking the vast garden. The warm sun rays kiss your skin and reflect over your e/c eyes; with a heavy sigh, you look at the diamond ring around your finger. "Roshan, what are you doing?" you sigh deeply, still playing with the ring. You recline on the chaise, heart heavy by all the information your husband has entrusted to you.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

*Flashback*

You laugh at your mother's joke coming from the other side of the call, asking for the billionth time when you will bless The Family name with a tiny mobster.

"Mom, Roshan, and I...I think Roshan is a little paranoid. He keeps saying when things get safer."

"Safe? He's married to a Family name. What's he afraid of?" your mom answers immediately, offense and maybe anger lacing her voice.

"He was with Father's name early this morning. Did his plane arrive back in Japan?"

You hear the door handle open, and your husband enters. The menacing glare in his eyes changes into a soft glimmer as the side of his lips perk up, "Speak of the devil. " you smile at your spouse as he waits in the middle of the room, waiting for you to finish the call. Your mother chuckles, and with a fast, "Right, go welcome your husband back home." before she hangs up. "Bye-bye." you eye your husband as he takes off his meticulously tailored jacket and puts it on the couch. You reach for him, and he pulls you into his arms. The smell of smoky wood cologne engulfs your senses, and in some way, it calms you down. He kisses your head and buries his face in your h/c hair, mumbling something. You hum in question, looking up at his sapphire eyes," Is something wrong?"

You know I was with your father today, right?"

"yes.."

"We discussed the future of the Family name and," he stops for a moment and licks his lip before he calmly utters," I'm planning to over throne Minegishi."

"What?" you break away from his embrace. Shock and fear resonate through your body, your heart rate quickens, and you stammer, trying to form a sentence.

"Roshan, Minegishi will have your head if he senses betrayal."

"Y/n, everything is planned. I joined the Japanese underworld, planning to one day be the leader."

Mental pictures of bloodied and injured Roshan surface in your mind, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

"Y/n..." he calls for you, sadly.

He steps toward you, his tattooed hands reach for your cold hands, and he puts them over his beating heart.

"I planned everything except you. From my joining ceremony to climbing up the ranks, everything. Minegishi blessed me with the unexpected, and I'm happy, ми́лой"

"Don't worry about me." he lifts his hand to wipe away the tear sliding down your cheek.

"When will it be?" you utter, cloudy eyes looking at his saddened one.

"Next week," he answers, his hands still holding yours over his chest.

The room stands still, your rapidly beating heart contrasting with Roshan's calm rhythm.

"Is there a way I can help? You know I can use guns." you inquire.

" I need you to leave the coun-"

you interrupt him," Absolutely not, Roshan. I'm staying. " your voice rises and rings in the room.

He looks down at his polished leather shoes, displeased. His two white locks hang over his face, shadowing his eyes.

"so?" you stand grounded in your place, hands crossed and a frown on your face.

He looks at you through his eyelashes. 

He shakes his head in disapproval before he straightens up and pulls a gun from behind his back strapped to his belt,"

"The upcoming years won't be easy, y/n." He hands you the gun, heavy in your hand.

"Then let's face it together." you cup his cheek and tentatively caress it with your thumb.

"я тебя люблю" He leans down, capturing your lips with passion and hunger. You melt into his touch when he pulls you back to him, enveloping you between his broad shoulders. You ran your hand through his black hair, pushing him into you to deepen the kiss even more.

A sudden knock pulls you away from each other. A string of saliva connects you two before it instantly breaks.

You wipe your lips, and take a deep breath to gather your thoughts before answering with a questioning yes.

"The dinner is ready," the maid's voice comes muffled from the other side.

"We'll be down soon," you reply, gaining a grimace from Roshan.

You hear the maid's footsteps fade when you walk toward the door.

" Take a cold shower, and don't fire the maid. " you tease him as you exit the room to help aid the rest of the staff. His words of love are fresh in your mind, subduing the stinging pain in your chest for the upcoming clash.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

hehehehe, hi I'm back with another chapter. maybe next chapter we'll get something i dunoo :3

anyways have a lovely day and see ya in next chapter.

[galactic-academia]

Through The Door

Rating: T (for language)

Category: F/M

Fandom: Justified

Relationship: Raylan Givens x F!Reader

Tags: Language, angst, fluff, pining, age gap (10 years), making out, mention of violence, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of suicide (but in a cynical way, no one seriously thinks about taking their own life here)

Words : 4K

Summary: Once upon a time, Raylan Givens was the very center of your universe and you would like to think you were – at least – his favorite Moon. Then he left you behind. Now that you’re face to face again, what’s going to happen ?

Notes : Not canon compliant: no Winona here and Raylan left Kentucky later than in the show. This is dramatic, 4K of desperate pining 😅 I would like to say I don’t know what possessed me, but that would be a lie… 😶 Anyway, I’m not a native, please, forget my mistakes and I hope you’ll enjoy 🤗💖 Dividers are from  animatedglittergraphics-n-more 

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Timothy Olyphant Masterlist

You look down the garden alley leading to the road as the movers puts furnitures up and piles card boxes in every room. Lexington, Kentucky; out of all the lost, forgotten-to-God, shitty places the U.S. Marshals Service could have hidden you, they chose here. All of this because you chose to not keep your damn big mouth shut - no, Hell - because you couldn’t keep it shut, never could, never would. There wouldn’t ever be any point to, now, and what could be worse than this? Whatever the answer could be, a bullet in your own temple still could solve all your problems if the time ever came, anyway.

A deep voice, far from unfamiliar, calling for your Marshal-turned-babysitter for the day wrenches you from the contemplation of the dead wildflowers. Dear God, the bullet in the head might come sooner than expected, in the end.

«If ain’t Raylan Givens in the flesh, I’ll be damned!»

Keep reading

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

finding his way back. ( raylan givens x reader )

gif belongs to me

The day you met Raylan Givens you knew he'd break your heart. You weren't sure how he would do it, or if he would mean to, but it was inevitable. And for a solid month you were the one he came to at the end of a difficult day which was every day since he returned to Kentucky. You had lost track of the times he turned up at your door and you poured him a drink and the night ended with you both in your bed.

Raylan Givens was a hard man to understand at times. When he wasn't testing your limits, he told you stories, confided in you and you believed you were beginning to get to know the man you had grown to care about. You always knew Raylan Givens would break your heart. You just didn't know when.

"You and Winona." You nodded slowly as you cut carrots.

Raylan lingered in the doorway and you felt his intense gaze as he tried to gauge your reaction. "We talked and she wants to try again."

"I don't know why you felt the need to come all the way over here." You kept your back to him so he couldn't see the tears pricking your eyes. You forced laughter as you added, "It's not as if this actually meant anything."

"Y/N..."

"Honestly Raylan, there was no need for you to come over. A simple text would've sufficed."

Raylan knew there was no chance of reaching you at that moment. And although you hadn't noticed your knife hitting the chopping board with more force, he had and he wasn't looking forward to being driven out your house at knifepoint.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head, hearing his footsteps as he left the house. When the door closed, you cut the carrot, the knife slicing your finger on the way down. You cursed as you stepped back, tossing the knife down as more curses left your lips. You blinked away the tears, walking to the sink to hold your finger under cold water.

You knew Raylan Givens would break your heart. You just believed that the knowledge he would do so would make it hurt less. It didn't.

It was inevitable that you would run into him. It was a small place and while you had managed to avoid him for a week, you hadn't predicted someone walking into your work and killing your coworker.

Raylan approached where you were sitting in an ambulance, being treated by a paramedic who removed glass from your cheek that was smashed during the gun fight. "Jesus. Are you alright?"

"Fine." You replied shortly. You thanked the paramedic who handed you an ice pack for the bruise on your head from where the killer had knocked you out.

"Yeah, you look it." He responded sarcastically.

"Always do." You smiled tightly, wincing from the cuts on your cheek.

Raylan couldn't hold back a smirk. "I can't argue with that."

You rolled your eyes although you appeared less hostile then, almost amused as you stood up.

Raylan looked at the paramedic, "How is she?"

"I want you to come to the hospital. Those might need stitches." The paramedic directed towards you.

"Oh no, no hospitals." You shook your head.

"You may have a concussion."

"So?"

"If you fall asleep you could -"

"I'll take the risk." You walked away and Raylan followed, sending you a disapproving glance.

"You should go to the hospital."

"And you should mind your own business."

"Damn it, Y/N!" He grabbed your arm and turned you around. "Let me take you to the hospital."

"First off," You tore your arm from his grip, "don't touch me. And second, don't act like you give a shit. Third, leave me alone."

You headed to your car, and Raylan sighed, resting his hands on his hips as he reluctantly watched you drive off. He deserved your coldness. He knew he did. Hell, if he was in your shoes, he probably would've thrown a punch. But you weren't the explosive type, though you were pretty feisty at times - one of the reasons he liked you.

That night at seven o'clock you heard a knock on your door and you knew it was him. Raylan lifted his gaze from the ground, almost surprised you had opened the door. You didn't speak as you walked back inside, leaving the door open for him to walk through. He closed it behind him as he followed you down the hall to the living room. You sat on the sofa as you picked up the glass from the coffee table, finishing your drink.

"What are you doing here, Raylan?" You asked, setting the glass down, picking up the bottle and pouring yourself another.

"Well, you were involved in a shootout less than four hours ago. I thought I should check up on you." He replied.

"You felt obligated you mean. Just what a woman wants to hear." You pointed to the kitchen before he could speak, as his expression said it all. You knew that wasn't what he meant, but at that moment you didn't care if your words stung. You wanted him to hurt, just as you did. "Get yourself a glass, unless you plan on standing there all night."

Raylan walked to the kitchen and you downed your drink, filling your glass as he returned. He took a seat beside you and you filled his glass. "How's the head?"

"Stings like a bitch." You replied. "It hurts when I have to think so try not to be your complicated self and just be straight with me."

"You should have gone to the hospital." He told you, taking a drink at the same time you did.

"I can't afford that. I can barely afford to keep this place." You glanced around what had been your childhood and your parent's house that had been passed on to you when they died.

"You thinkin' of leavin'?" He asked.

You shrugged. "Not like there's anything here for me, is there?" You finished your drink and Raylan stared at you for a moment before mimicking your actions.

"You really believe that?" He began. "That there's nothing left?"

"If you're asking what I think you're asking, which I assume you are, then I'd tell you that you made your choice." You turned to look at him, "Have the guts to stick with it and keep it in your pants, Deputy Marshall Givens." You turned to the coffee table, reaching for the bottle when he turned your chin, and your eyes drifted to his lips that grew closer as he leaned in.

"Are you serious? About leavin' I mean." He asked quietly.

"I haven't decided yet." You whispered.

"I don't want you to go." He murmured.

You wet your lips, "I don't know what brought this on, but I have no intentions of being your side chick. Or any chick for that matter." You pulled away and the moment ended. You pretended not to notice the way his eyes drifted to the coffee table as if he was conflicted by his actions, almost surprised, and when he stood up, telling you to take it easy, you merely nodded as you poured yourself another drink.

Raylan left after that and when you heard the door closed you sighed as you leaned back on the sofa, holding the glass on your chest as you stared at the wall across from you. You really hated Raylan Givens. But what you hated more was how your body still reacted to him.

You hadn't expected to see him for a while. Let alone the next night, sitting on your doorstep waiting for you to return home. You got out of your car, sighing when you saw him stand up, locking your car. You kept your distance, standing a few feet away as you crossed your arms.

"Have you ever heard the saying, shoot those who have stuck their dick in too many pies?"

"Can't say that I have. But I'll be sure to remember it." He replied.

"What do you want, Raylan?"

"I was hopin' for a drink." He replied, glancing away for a few seconds before sending you the slightest smile.

You could see in his eyes that he was troubled and while you knew it would be better to turn him away, you couldn't bring yourself to. "You get one then you're gone. You ain't drainin' my liquor no more now that we ain't sleeping together." You walked onto the porch and unlocked the door, turning to him flashing a smile. "I don't feel obligated to share it with you."

Raylan took his hat off, exhaling as he walked inside while you held the door open. "Fair enough."

You followed him into the hallway, closing the door and leading the way to the living room.

"Was that all you think it was?" He asked.

You entered the kitchen and he lingered in the doorway as you took out two beers from the fridge. "Wasn't it?" You held up a beer and he shook his head. "Suit yourself." You placed one of the beers back in the fridge and popped the cap using the countertop. You leaned your back against the counter as you took a long sip. "Or do you think you could have tipped your hat at a woman in a bar and gone home early?"

"I could've but I didn't." He said with the faintest smile. "I spent two weeks flirting with you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I too uptight for you, is that it?"

"No!" He shot down, realizing the conversation was quickly going south. He pointed at you, "You know that's not true."

"Do I?" You raised an eyebrow, lifting the beer to your lips but before you took a drink, you added, "Why are you here anyway? Is the ex-wife not doing it for you anymore? Well, take your dick and your pretty eyes elsewhere, okay?"

A smirk formed on his lips, "You think my eyes are pretty?"

You rolled your eyes, "Of course that's what you hear."

"How many of those have you had?" He asked, his expression becoming serious as he stepped towards you.

"Including the five I had before I came here, this makes five and a half." You held up the bottle, squinting as you peered at the beer inside before looking at him, noticing how close he was. "Why?"

"Just wanted to know if you were sober." He took the beer bottle, and you glared at him when he emptied it down the drain.

"Raylan!"

He turned to you, catching your hand before you could smack his arm, lifting you onto his shoulder. You used your free hand to hit his back as he carried you upstairs.

"What are you doing?" You asked, and he was able to tell you were smiling from your voice.

"I want you to be sober when we talk." He explained.

The door to your bedroom was ajar and he kicked it open further, carrying you to the bed. He placed you down and you stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "Now, now, Marshall, you are in a committed relationship. I don't think Whitney would appreciate you taking me to bed like this."

"Winona." He corrected, taking off your heels. "And she knows I'm here. Or at least, figured it out."

You shuffled over, making space. You rested your head on your hand, leaning on your elbow as you met his gaze, patting the bed beside you. "You wanna talk about it? Or want a distraction?"

Raylan took off his hat and hung it on the poster of your bed. "I just came to talk. That doesn't mean I want to talk about her."

"Ooh," You giggled. "Trouble in paradise?" You tried your best to appear serious, though there was a smirk on your lips. "What happened? Did you leave her for someone else too?"

Raylan glanced at the floor briefly, and when he met your gaze you had your answer.

"Wow. You really are a piece of work." You laid down on your back, looking up at the ceiling. "Have you slept with this woman? Or has she not had the pleasure yet?"

Raylan sat down on the bed, "We have. Or we did. More than a few times actually."

You hummed, "You're an idiot."

"No, you are." He replied seconds later.

"Wha-" You sat up, turning to him. "How?"

"Because I was talking about you." He said with a small smile. "This is why I was gonna wait until morning. When you had a clear head, and -"

"My head is clear. I can drink bikers under the table you know that." You reminded him. "Although I do need some clarification, not because of the beers or anything, what is it you're trying to tell me?"

"When Winona and I got back together, something was different. It felt different. So I told Winona that it wasn't workin' out. And she asked if there was someone else I didn't deny it. I told her the truth. About me and you. And I told her I couldn't do it anymore. Then I came straight here."

"How long were you waitin'?" You asked, a smile forming on your lips as you moved closer.

"About two hours." He admitted.

"Good." Your smile grew as you lowered your gaze to his lips, before meeting his gaze as you leaned in, placing your hands on his shoulders. You moved your arms around his neck and he held your gaze as he lifted a hand to your cheek. "If you hurt me again, I'll shoot ya."

"Oh, really?" He challenged, his eyes focused on your lips, a small smirk forming on his as he inched closer.

You hummed in response moments before Raylan closed the distance between you, placing a hand on the nape of your neck, another on your back as he kissed you hotly.

And that night was the night when Raylan Givens swore that he would never give you the opportunity or a reason to make good on your threat. No matter what happened he always knew he would find his way here, back to you.

[littlerayofsunshinewrites]

Taking The Pain Away

Pairing: Boyd Crowder x Female Reader

Summary: Boyd Crowder comes home from nightshift only to find the house dark and quiet. Thinking that something has happened to his girlfriend, he looks through the house.

A/N: So I am trying to get back into writing and trying to do something each day, even if it’s little. I had to write this one about Boyd Crowder from Justified because I am such a sucker for a characters redemption and I feel dirty for him in the first two seasons he was trying to make amends for what he did wrong. But as they say character development is what grabs us and makes certain characters your favourite :P.

Also I felt like writing this as I am currently waiting for surgery to remove a cyst on my ovary and it’s a huge one and the last couple of months it has been causes me grief and honestly some days I feel like just breaking down and crying, with the pain and heavy bleeding. So this came into my head as the last few days have been a bit crappy and you know what, sometimes a comfort character can make everything better, right?

Please do let me know what you think 😊

Warnings: Blood

Y/N: Your Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/C/E: Your Colour Eyes

Happy reading :)

Word Count: 2727

Night shift was over and the sweat and grime of coal work was still etched on him, he wasn’t complaining. It was the only work that would take him on with his criminal past and well if he was being honest, it was also something that he was good at, blowing things up. Yet his legs felt like lead and those three stairs that were leading to the porch of his house was making him more tired. However, Boyd knew he would be greeted by his favourite lady waiting for him, that was his motivation for the stairs and his honest paid work. Placing his key into the lock of the door, he is greeted to a dark house, no music playing or Y/N waiting for him. He starts to panic slightly as he checks his phone to see if she had texted him while he was on his way home, though he was only greeted to the last text they had exchanged between each other.

Boyd: Night Sweetheart, I’ll see you in the morning.

Y/N: Love you cowboy, be safe x  

Boyd knew she had the day off from work and knew she wouldn’t be out and about just yet, it was only 8am. He starts thinking of scenarios of things that’s could have gone wrong. Did someone from his past come to collect on his misdeeds, that was always a possibility but he made sure to keep clean and fly under the radar. He then thinks about given Raylan Givens a call, yet maybe that was being too desperate and he hadn’t even made it through the house yet. He checks the rooms on the ground floor and sees all the curtains still pulled shut. Making his way up the stairs, he hears the soft sobs coming from the bedroom. The door to their shared bedroom is half closed, yet he slowly pushes it open to see her crying on the floor next to her side of the bed. He looks at the bed and sees the sheets removed and thrown on the floor,  the only thing left on the bed was the mattress protector, he then makes his way to her side of the bed.

‘Sweetheart, are you okay.’ He asks as he kneels down next to her, opening his arms, while trying to assess the situation.  

She looks up at him and she grabs hold of him tightly, burying her head into the crook of his neck, which makes him shifts slightly as he holds onto her more tightly.

‘Y/N.’ he calls her name slowly, his southern drawl is soft as he says her name as she looks up at him. He is trying to see if she is hurt, yet seeing her like this is scaring him.

‘Boyd, I think I need to go to the hospital.’ She says as she winces in pain and moves out of his arms. As she moves back Boyd notices that she has blood on her pyjama pants and it’s not just a little bit of blood, there’s quite a bit.

‘Hey, hey, hey, Y/N, what’s happened.’ He asks, trying to keep calm as he starts to panic thinking someone has harmed her. He looks away, ashamed he wasn’t home to protect her.

She looks at him and she notices he has looked away, she grabs hold of his hand and gives it a squeeze and he looks back towards her. He notices that she sees the fear in his eyes as well as anger and he knows exactly what she is thinking, she thinks someone had broken into the house and hurt her.

‘Boyd, honey, it’s okay, I…I went to bed with some stomach cramps, which I thought was just the start of my period, but instead I woke up to heavy bleeding, clots and very bad back and stomach pain.’ She says as she then looks at the sheets on the floor, then the bed with only a mattrass protector and then down at her herself.

‘I’m sorry Boyd,.’ He winces when he hears her say sorry, like she did this to herself. He knew that the human body did marvellous things as well as weird things, yet seeing her like this makes him wish he could take away her pain. He smiles slightly and notices she relaxes a little bit.

‘I thought maybe it would of gone away after an hour or so, I tried to take pain medication and it  hasn’t done anything.’ She continues as the tears then begin again as he sees her hit with another wave of pain.

‘It’s okay darlin’, we will get ya looked at.’ He says as he stands up and then leans down putting his arm behind her knees, lifting her up and carrying her bridal style towards the bathroom. Kissing her forehead.

‘Let’s get ya cleaned up first.’ He says as he gently places her down on the edge of the bath tub.

‘Do ya think ya can have a shower.’ He asks as he moves towards the shower and turns on the hot water, waiting for it to warm up. He looks back towards her and she nods her head. Boyd turns back to the shower and now turns the cold water on. He is slightly calmer than when he first entered the house, knowing that no one did anything to her. Yet he was still feeling nervous as to what was wrong with Y/N. She wasn’t one to complain, he knew that, hell she was with him, she had been his saving grace. He wasn’t sure anyone would want him, given his criminal past and family name. Yet she didn’t care, she saw him for the way he was. She saw the good in him and knew he was trying to redeem his past misdeeds.

Feeling the water again, he knew it was the perfect temperature, turning around he notices that Y/N was already undressing and he moves out of the way and heads out into the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes for her. As he enters back into the bathroom he sees that she is waiting for him at the shower door.

‘You okay darlin’.’ He asks and she nods and then puts out her own hand for him to join her. He smirks at her, even though she wasn’t feeling well, she still wanted him close by, he then starts to take his own clothes off. Slowly slipping into the shower to join her, washing away the negative thoughts that crossed his mind this morning. He gives her a kiss as he closes the shower screen.

After they both clean themselves up in the shower, he leaves the bathroom and grabs some fresh clothes for himself. He enters the bathroom and sees Y/N dressed with a messy wet bun and trying to grab the dirty clothes.

‘Don’t worry about the laundry sweetheart, we have plenty of time to get that done, my priority is getting ya to the hospital and now.’ He says as he grabs her hand.

‘Always a gentleman to me, making sure I am okay.’ She smiles as she takes his hand and he once more grabs her bridal style and carries her down the stairs.

‘Only the best for you Y/N.’ He drawls out as he manages to open the front door and swing the flyscreen door open.

‘Aren’t we suppose to this when we are married.’ She giggles as he also joins in with her, her laugh was contagious.

‘Well sugar, I’m just giving you a taste of what’s to come when we are.’ Boyd chuckles again as he places her gently down on the front porch, turning to lock the front door.

‘I’ll just get the truck going.’ He says as he goes down the stairs, he turns to tell her to wait for him, however Boyd notices that Y/N is behind him.

‘As much as I love you carrying me Boyd, I think walking is helping a bit with the pain.’ She softly smiles as she grabs hold of his hand. He smiles back at her and gives her a reassuring squeeze back. He opens the truck door for her to get in and then gets in himself.

The drive to the hospital was about forty minutes, which to Y/N felt longer as she had another rush of pain hit her. Boyd looked at her and placed his hand on her thigh and gave her a little squeeze.

‘We are nearly there Y/N, they will sort you out in no time.’ She looks at him and nods but he can see she is still in pain.

Entering the emergency room there were a few people waiting but nothing too crazy, which was a relief to both Boyd and Y/N. The nurse asked questions and Y/N told her what was happening, the nurse took her notes as well as asking for any allergies. She then checked Y/N blood pressure and told them to wait a couple of minutes as she went to see if there was a bed free. Once she entered the room again, she led them to a cubical.

‘Just get changed in to this gown and the doctor will be in to see you soon.’ The nurse said to Y/N which she nodded. Boyd moves and closes the curtain to the room and then turns too see Y/N taking her top off.

‘Don’t worry honey, keeping my pants on, no one needs to see my granny undies in this gown. She says as she lays on the bed, Boyd laughs and sits in the chair next to her and grabs hold of her hand. Softly rubbing her hand as she tries to get comfortable. Another nurse come in the room and checks the chart and then says she would be putting in a cannula and drawing some bloods. Once that was done and after a little struggle getting the blood out, which was making Boyd wince a little only to be greeted to a squeeze on his hand.

‘I have veins like my dad’s side of the family, you can never find them’. She chuckles a little, trying not to wince herself while the nurse finds the vein. The nurse told both Boyd and Y/N that the doctor would be with them soon.

A little while later…

‘Hello Ms Y/L/N.’ The doctor enters the room and Boyd stands up, trying not to be in the way and also being respectful.

‘I see you are having bad stomach cramping and heavy bleeding.’ The doctor looks over the chart again and then looks at Boyd and then to Y/N.

‘Can I ask you a question and is it okay if your...’ She pauses and then says

‘Husband.’ Waits outside.

Oh no, did she really try and kick out Boyd from the room, he looks at the doctor and then he feels Y/N hand grab on to his and tight.

‘Please, doctor, whatever you need to ask, I am happy to have him here with me.’ Y/N says and Boyd smiles, that’s his girl, wait she didn’t even correct the doctor about him being her husband, he lets that sink in. The doctor looks at you both and nods.

‘Is there a chance that you are pregnant, as this could be a sign of you miscarrying.’ She asks and Boyd now squeezes Y/N hand hard. She looks up at him as he looks down at her.

‘Definitely not, my periods have been quiet regular, with the occasional longer period, but that I put down to stress and hormones and the both of us are pretty careful.’ She looks up at Boyd and reassures him with her smile.

‘Okay, well what I want to do is get a ultrasound done, just to rule out anything and to see what may be happening around your ovaries. There could be a chance you have fibroids or a cyst. I also want to get an IV into you with medication to stop the bleeding. The medication we will be using is what is given to women after they have given birth, but don’t panic, it will kick in pretty quickly.

The doctor opens the curtain and then leaves. To which Boyd settles back into the chair but is looking straight ahead, trying to process everything.

‘Honey, you okay.’ She asks as she leans over and strokes the side of his face. He leans over and plants a kiss on her lips.

‘Yeah Y/N, are you.’ He seems a little lost as he looks into her Y/C/E. He doesn’t know what to say next, so he just moves slightly in the chair.

After a little while Y/N is taken off to her ultrasound while Boyd waits in the empty room, checking his phone he sees that its after 2pm, he realises that he hasn’t slept since he left home yesterday at 4pm, yet he didn’t care, all he wanted was for Y/N to be okay.  

Y/N entered back into the room and gives Boyd a quick hug before she settles back onto the bed, offering him to lay down with her, but he refused, saying it wasn’t big enough for them both. Though he reassured her that he was fine with the chair and gave her a wink with his famous smile.

It wasn’t too long and the IV of medicine was done and taken out, and both Boyd and Y/N were now chatting asking each other funny hypothetical questions, to which, she asks him about his night shift, to which Boyd smiled and told her about it.

Just then they both hear the curtain pull back.

‘So the results are back.’ The doctor says as she enters the room. Boyd grabs hold of Y/N hand this time and he held his breath.

‘The ultrasound came back with a 12cm cyst on the left ovary, which is why you would be feeling the way you are. It hasn’t ruptured but we will be wanting to remove it.’ She says looking at the chart, she then pauses as she looks at the couple in the room.

‘Our plan of attack will be to remove the cyst at a later date and test it to rule out anything but from what we can see it isn’t cancerous. But I would also like to book you in for another scan as it looks like you may have Polycystic ovary syndrome, which would be masked if you are currently on birth control. With that we will give you another hormone tablet to be taken for thirty days and some pain medication to help. Then we will reassess once the surgery has been completed. Though for now, you will be discharged and able to go home, once the nurses come back they will start your discharge papers.’

‘Thank you Doctor.’ Both Boyd and Y/N say at the same time, just as the doctor grabbed the curtain, she turns around and looks at Y/N.

‘You’re lucky, you have a good one here, most guys run at the first sign of lady problems.’ She chuckles as she leaves the two of them together.

Y/N looks up and smiles at Boyd and he is relieved to hear that she will be okay, he wasn’t sure what he would do if something bad would happen to her.

‘Looks like I did make a good choice.’ She says as she stands up and puts her arms around his neck standing on tippy toes gives him a kiss. Smiling as she kisses him, Boyd returns the kiss back and picks her up just slightly making sure he isn’t hurting her.

‘Darlin’, it looks like I also made a good choice.’ He says and he means it, whatever life may throw at him, at least he knew he had a good women by his side and someone that saw the good in him.

‘What about when we get out of here, we drive home and go and hop into bed and sleep.’ Boyd suggests as Y/N nods, only to shake her head at him.

‘Nooo, we need to still fix the bed and…and the dirty laundry.’ She says exhaustedly. To which Boyd just laughs out loud, he didn’t know if it was because he was tired from night shift or what Y/N took away from the conversation of cuddling and sleep, that the dirty laundry was still waiting for them.  

‘Y/N you know we have three other bedrooms right, we can just crash in one of them and worry about our bed later.’ He gives her another kiss just as the nurse walks in ready with the discharge papers. Only for the both of them to laugh at their lack of sleep and morning adventure.

The End.

[zodiyack]

Masterlist

Updates every time / I add stories onto here after I upload them

ALPHABETICAL ORDER! (SERIES THEN CHARACTER -example-)

Prompt List One / Prompt List Two / Smut Prompts

Things I Write For + Rules || Request Here / Send Me Feedback

To Do List || Taglists

Series / Person Specific Masterlist links

*strike through are ones I haven’t posted yet but plan on soon

American Horror Story Masterlist

Criminal Minds Masterlist

iZombie Masterlist

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

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Supernatural Masterlist

Slasher Masterlist

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The Mortal Instruments Masterlist

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Rami Malek Masterlist

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Mötley Crüe / The Dirt Masterlist

Bucky Barnes | Marvel

Stress Reliever

A smut request lol, Bucky helps reader destress after a long day <3

Colson ‘Machine Gun Kelly’ Baker

Happy V-Day

Another Valentines Day Special!

Men-Sitting (700+ Follower Special)

A special where Pete and Colson are victims of a prank by the beautiful Y/n and her equally as beautiful partner, Casie Baker. + Thank you guys so much!! This means a lot to me!

Pete Davidson

Beach Date

Requested by anon: hi! idk if u write for pete davidson but could you do something where their at the beach with colson and megan like a double date and then reader gets hurt somehow and pete takes care of her i think that would be so cute!!

Dominic ‘YUNGBLUD” Harrison

Prompt Ask Fic Thingie?

Dylan Gardner

Live Theif

Requested by @bitweird1: Hey! Would you be willing to take a request for Dylan Gardner?❤ He’s been in some of Shane Dawson’s videos❤ I completely understand if not!❤

Ethan Nestor

Valentines Dayasmr

A valentines day special but with our favorite soft blue boi. I’m starting to write for real people too now, so yeah.

Snowballs And Feelings

Requested by @firstpartybanditdonut​: Can you write an Ethan Nestor imagine where the reader has a panic attack and Ethan kisses them to calm them down because he saw somewhere that it works and then asks them out? Completely understand if not!

Thinking Cute

Requested by anon: Could you write an Ethan Nestor x male!reader? About someone who’s like painfully shy and has feelings for Ethan, but doesn’t know how to go about it until one day they’re just chilling and hanging out and it accidentally slips out?

Unus Needs His Annus

Can you write an Ethan Nestor x female reader about Ethan having a bad mental health day and the reader goes to help him, and it’s just really fluffy and there’s a cuddle session abd possibly a make out? (Or a long kiss haha). It’s so hard to find Ethan content!!

Tom Holland

Meet And Greet Magic

Requested by anon: Tom Holland x fem!reader - the reader gets fed up with watching other girls flirt with Tom and talks to Zendaya (or anyone lmao) but Tom overhears and admits his feelings?

Jack Barts | Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter

Wild Little Thing

Requested:  @momitsnotreadyyet​ Can you do a drabble or whatever it’s called with Jack Barts where reader is similar to Black Widow and can escape almost any situation? She’s a vampire as well and …

Vadoma | Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter

Intrigue me

Requested by anon: Idk if you do ALVH fanfics currently but I saw that you wrote one last December and it was awesome and well written. If you don’t mind can you write a Vadoma x female!reader someday 😊 she pressed on my bi button lol thank you!

Cameron Frye | Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

You’re Such A Dork

After Ferris is unsuccessful, Cameron’s girlfriend convinces him to skip school with her, Ferris, and Sloane. However, since Sloane is still at school, Ferris needs Cam to call the School dean pretending to be Sloane’s father.

Twist And Shout

Requested: Anonymous;  More Cameron Frye? Like maybe the first time he realizes he has feelings for his girl?

Oh, And One More Thing

Cameron Frye x reader (not together yet) where the reader, Sloan, Ferris, and Cameron go skipping school to a cool lake and swim for like hours and have fun and then compete at foosball and stuff at an arcade and they end up kissing in the car before he drops her off?

Ferris Bueller | Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

Kiddy Crush Beats It Any Day

Requested: @gay-boi-dallas​ Hi! I love your account so much! I was wondering if you could make an imagine with Ferris and the reader is having like self-esteem issues and …

Oswald Cobblepot | Gotham

Your Wish Is My Command

Some angsty stuff happens with the reader and someone Oswald doesn’t know, but she turns down his offer of revenge. Instead, she’d rather spend time with fluffy boyo Oswald

Paul Andrews | Mortuary

Beautifully Concentrated

One of y/n’s favorite things about Paul is the look of concentration. No words can describe the beauty of it. (I couldn’t think of a summary)

Richie Tozier | IT

Soundtrack To A Rom Com Surprise

Requested over discord by Honey Kisses: Richie x reader ? And suprise me- you never fail at doing that 😉

Stanley Uris | IT

Stay

Stan is just about to do it. He doesn’t want to go back to Derry…but the love of his life stops him. Behind her tough exterior is the part of her that can’t imagine life without him.

Angelita | K-12

Serene

Requested by anon: Something fluffy with Angelita K-12?

Crybaby | K-12

Revenge Sure Is Sweet

After finding her girlfriend in a stall crying, Crybaby makes it her mission to hunt down Kelly and teach her a lesson that she would never forget. Rule 1 in Crybaby’s eyes; never mess with Y/n.

Midari Ikishima | Kakegurui - Compulsive Gambler

What Just Happened-

Requested by anon: oh could I rq Midari x reader?

Arthur Pendragon | Merlin (BBC)

The Princess, Intoxicated. (900+ Follower Special!)

Title is self explanatory

Enoch O’Connor | Miss Peregrine’s Home … (MPHFPC)

Happy Valentines Day Jerk-Face

My final Valentines Special!

Michael Emerson | The Lost Boys

Fanged Kisses (Valentines Day Special)

Another Valentines Special but a day a late!

Patrick | The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

Mamma Patrick Says Yes

Patrick x FTM!Reader

R | Warm Bodies

Human

R watches reader, Julie’s godsister, often and he’s fascinated. At some point, reader gets shot and dies. She is lost and confused after wondering around outside of the wall, having an accidental run in with the boneys. More happens, and later, reader and R make it to the final battle. After defeating the boneys, they are normal, but still in love.

Robin Branagh | Young Dracula

Love Conquers All

Requested by anon: For young dracula can you do a “Vlad and Robin meet again after stockley but Robin remembers everything because Vlad is in love with him and you cant wipe the memory of someone you are in love with” fic (poly)

Vladimir Dracula | Young Dracula

Love Conquers All

Requested by anon: For young dracula can you do a “Vlad and Robin meet again after stockley but Robin remembers everything because Vlad is in love with him and you cant wipe the memory of someone you are in love with” fic (poly)

Columbus | Zombieland

Family

I can’t even think of a description, but it starts off with Columbus in the beginning of the apocalypse, ends with a happy family moment.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Such a tease

PAIRING | Ransom Drysdale x Best Friend!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.1K

SUMMARY | You're spending the afternoon at a lingerie boutique to find the perfect set for your date later that night. You decide to tease your date a little and send him a photo, but in a rush you accidentally send it to your best friend instead. How will he react to getting such a spicy picture from you?

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Best friends to lovers, smut [ Edging, oral (F receiving), overstimulation, squirting, use of a safeword, protected sex, implied aftercare ], angst,

A/N | I want to thank @avengersfantasies for helping me with this one when I couldn't figure out how to continue; you're a lifesaver! 🖤

Likes, comments, and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

You're looking through the endless lingerie options for your date tonight since you and Kenji plan to have a hot and steamy date. When your eye falls on a set of red lingerie, you pick it up and go to try it on.

As soon as you close the curtain behind you, you let out a sigh and start taking all your clothes off, ready to slip into the pieces of red lacy fabric you picked up.

The bra slips on like a glove, pushing your boobs up perfectly, making them look irresistible. Next up are the panties, and you turn around to look at yourself. You have never felt more beautiful and are not even finished yet.

You pull on the stockings and slide the garter belt into place, hooking the ends to your stocking to keep them in place perfectly. Now all that's left is to tie the bit around your neck like a collar, making the chain attached to the garter belt fall between your boobs.

When it's on, you gasp softly at how perfect you look because every inch of lace hugs your curves beautifully. It is molded to your body like a second skin, and that's when you think of a mischievous plan.

You stand sensually, making your boobs pop even more, and snap pictures with different poses. When you're about to send the perfect one to Kenji, one of the sales associates suddenly interrupts your train of thought.

"Ma'am, can I help you with anything?" she asks, and you accidentally tap Ransom's name instead of Kenji's, sending it to your best friend instead of your date. Not that Ransom minds seeing you in lingerie.

"Uhm, no, thank you! I'm taking this set, so I'll be with you in a few minutes," you say, feeling the embarrassment washing over you while you change out of the lingerie and back into your regular clothes.

You calm yourself down a little before walking to the register, and the woman politely smiles.

"That will be $125, please," she says, and you nod, getting out the cash to pay for it. When that's done, the sales associate puts it in a bag, and you're on your way home to start getting ready for your date with Kenji.

You just pulled out of the parking garage and turned on your podcast for your drive home when suddenly you're getting a call from your best friend, Ransom.

"Hi, Ran-" is all you can say before he cuts you off.

"My house. Thirty minutes. Wear that lingerie you showed me," he says before hanging up, and you're confused about what he's talking about.

Only when you're home and getting ready to get out of your car can you look at what he meant, and you realize the photo that was supposed to go to Kenji went to Ransom instead.

You close your eyes and think about the mistake you have made. But then again, this is the universe telling you to finally admit your feelings to your best friend.

You leave your car and go inside to change into the brand new lingerie - putting on a cute red dress over it.

Once ready, you return to your car and exhale as you climb into the driver's seat. During the drive, you're nervous - your hands drumming against the steering wheel as you try to keep your thoughts together.

You've done what Ransom asked and are at his house a little under thirty minutes later; it's good he lives close. When you leave your car, you wipe your sweaty palms on your dress and adjust your hair again before walking to his door and using your key to let yourself in.

"Ransom?" you call out, hearing your voice echo against the walls of his house.

He walked into the hallway with assassin-like steps - complete silence as he approached you. He looks like a predator hunting down its prey, and before you can even say a proper hello, his lips crash onto yours.

His actions take you aback, but you hadn't expected anything else to happen.

When you didn't turn down his kiss, he deepened it, and you let his tongue pry your lips apart - moaning into your mouth. Your hands make their way into his hair, and he pins you against the wall - letting you feel his growing bulge. You gasp when you touch him, and he pulls away from you, smirking seductively.

"See what your little outfit did to me?" he asks, and you want to answer, but it feels like your throat is filled with cotton balls.

"I- I didn't-" is all you can say, but he doesn't let you finish; his lips crash back onto yours, and his hands move to the knot on your dress, untying it swiftly, and it falls open.

"Oh fuck," he whispers to himself as he takes a step back, and takes in the sight of you covered in red lace, the chain between your breasts and the red stockings.

You let the dress fall to the floor, and that's when Ransom picks you up and quickly throws you over his shoulder on his way to the bedroom.

He thought about taking you right then and there but ultimately decided against it as he wanted to make you feel special for the first time.

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?!" you yelp as he easily lifts you, everything suddenly upside down, and his hand is lying on your ass to ensure you're not going anywhere.

"You'll have to wait and see since you've been such a tease to me," he says, and you can't help but squeeze your thighs together at the thought of what he might do to you.

You were prepared for many things, but Ransom edging you for over an hour was missing from the list of things you were ready for.

"R-Ran, please!" you wail after he builds you up again, to pull away at the last second before you fall over the edge. Right now, you hate him more than anything, but you can't go anywhere.

Your limbs have turned into nothing but complete jelly under his touch, and Ransom's reveling in the thought, saying the filthiest things while still buried between your thighs.

"Hm, this cunt is so sweet; wish you'd have let me have a taste sooner, Baby. Will fucking ruin you for everyone else like the needy slut you are for me and my dick," he says, a moan escaping your lips at his words.

"Please..." you whine; your release is so close yet so far away at the same time, but this time Ransom does let you cum; however, he doesn't stop there.

"Makes me so fucking hard when you beg like a slut, when you're begging me to let you cum. If you're such a needy slut for it, you better cum now," he says, setting a brutal pace with three of his fingers inside and his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking the life out of it.

"FUCK, 'M CUMMING!" you scream out, and he keeps doing the same thing until your juices squirt out, and he knows the edging was well worth it now.

"Such a perfect slut for me, huh? Squirting for me like that," he says, and you whine softly as you come down from your high, but Ransom doesn't grant you that luxury.

He barely pulled his fingers out of you, allowing his tongue to lap every last drop of your juices as he fucks you with it.

"C-can't take more!" you tell him, but Ransom's determined to pull one more out of you. He needs one more orgasm before he's even going to think about filling you with his cock.

"Yes, you can, Baby. Just need one more from you now, and then I'll let you suck me off like a perfect slut," he says, his tongue going back to fucking and lapping your juices, his thumb now pressed on your clit until you fall apart for him again.

Loud moans echo through his bedroom and house, but you're too far gone to even worry about that. You're too wrapped up in pleasure and the thought of Ransom making you feel this good to care about anything other than him.

"Tastes so fucking sweet, Baby, tastes like peaches, and I can't get enough of it," he says as he attaches his mouth to your clit again, sucking and licking, but it is too much this time.

Tears are starting to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, and you're working up the courage to keep going and give him everything he wants, but you can't. You can't take anything else he's providing you right now.

Before you can fully comprehend what's happening, your mouth opens slightly, and you say it softly and barely audible. Still, Ransom hears you perfectly fine, stopping his motions immediately and stepping away.

"Red."

The two of you never talked about safewords, but that doesn't matter as Ransom backs away regardless, afraid he did something to hurt you.

"Shit..." he whispers to himself as you curl up into a ball and move back to the headboard of his bed. You feel bad about using the safeword even though you know it was the right thing to do.

Tears keep streaming down your face as you rock back and forth, your arms wrapped around your knees after you pull them up to your chest. Your eyes are closed, and that's when you suddenly hear Ransom throw a punch against the wall of his bedroom.

"Fuck!" he grits out through his teeth as he looks at his hand and back to you, looking scared out of your mind as big eyes are looking back at him.

He slowly walks over to the bed with his hands held up to show he's not going to hurt you and touch you without your permission, but it doesn't calm you down.

"Get out," you say before he can even reach the bed, and he looks down with defeat, but he does as you say, wanting to give you back the power over the situation right now.

You stay in his bedroom for an unknown amount of time while gathering your thoughts about what happened. It's not that you don't want him because you do, but he went too far by ignoring you, and that's what hurt most.

You feel incredibly bare in just your lingerie, so you go over to his wardrobe, fishing out a pair of joggers he never wears and one of his sweaters to make yourself feel a bit more comfortable.

You strip yourself out of everything except your panties and put on Ransom's clothes, ready to see him and talk about what has happened.

Ransom sits at his dining table, one of his hands in his hair while the other is getting iced. He looks up at you as you walk into the dining room and smiles at seeing you wearing his clothes.

"Can I sit here?" you ask as you point to the chair directly across from him. He nods as he looks up at you, and you can tell he's been crying, too, by the look of his bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry-" he starts, but you raise your hand, notifying him that now's not the time for him to talk. Right now, you have something to get off your chest, and this is the perfect moment to do just that.

"I want to start by saying that I'm not mad at you at all, Ransom," you say, and he looks up at you, the fact that he went too far still fresh in his mind.

You stretch out your hands, and he puts his free hand in it, letting yours envelop it. The softness of your small hands contrasts his big, calloused hands, making him chuckle softly.

"It's so cute," he whispers as he looks at your combined hands, and you chuckle at the sight.

"It is, but I want to admit something to you. I've wanted to tell you something for a few months, but I needed to figure out how or when. I- I have a huge crush on your Ransom, and I'm not sure when it developed, but I figured you don't feel the same, so I just kept it to myself all this time," you tell him, your heart fluttering a little now that your secret is finally out in the open.

"And I have to say that even though you went over my boundary and I had to safeword, I'm glad you did respect it when I used it, despite us not having talked about it. I do want to continue what we were doing if it is okay with you, but I do want to ask you to be gentle with me this time because I cannot take another version of what you did," you say with a polite smile, stroking Ransom's hand with your thumbs.

"God, I- I don't know where to start," Ransom says, gathering all of his courage to tell you how he feels since talking about feelings does not come naturally to him.

"The beginning might be nice," you joke, and Ransom can't help but laugh at your simple comment. This is precisely why he fell for you all this time ago. How sweet you are, your caring nature, your stupid jokes, all of it. And now that he knows you feel the same, he won't waste another second.

"I have feelings for you too, Y/N. Hell, I'm fucking in love with you, even!" he shouts, a burst of booming laughter following his statement.

"Been in love with you for I don't know how long, and now that I know you feel the same, I'm not planning on hurting you like I did, ever again. I am so sorry you felt the need to use it, but I also want you to know I'm proud of you for doing it. I'm sorry it had to come to that point, but I will make it up to you in every way imaginable," he says.

"I love you, Ransom," you say before getting up and walking to his side of the table. He moves back so you can sit on his lap, and you gladly do.

You get seated sideways to cup his face in your hands, stroking his smooth cheeks softly before leaning in and molding your lips to his perfectly. Two pieces of a puzzle, sliding right into place as they belong to one another.

When you pull away, he follows your lips for another, but you're just a little faster than him, much to his disappointment.

"I want to do this the right way, Ransom. Please take me out on a date and ask me to be yours. We both know I will say yes, but until then, I just want you. Ransom, all I want is you," you whisper in his ear, and a warm feeling spreads across his cheeks at your words.

"And how do you want me, Baby?" he asks, and you get a mischievous smile.

Your lips ghost softly over his lips, to his cheek, and you let out a warm breath on his ear before telling him how you want to fall apart while riding him so good he won't be able to think of anything else but you.

Now here you are, sitting on his couch in the living room, both completely naked while you bounce slowly up and down on his rock-hard cock. At least you still had the sense to make him put on a condom because if it were up to him, he'd slide in immediately.

Soft moans leave your lips while Ransom's hands touch you everywhere they can, from your shoulders and arms to your back and waist, to your hips and ass. Not a single inch of you is left untouched.

Your hands slide over his prominent muscles in his arms, broad chest, and chiseled abs; he looks like a Greek God. And the fucked out look on his face? Even better.

"I love-" is all you get to say to Ransom before your phone rings, and you lean back to grab it from the table behind you, showing Ransom who's calling you.

"Pick it up while you keep riding me so good, Baby. Want him to know it's me who makes you feel this good. That you're mine, and I'm never letting you go," he says between some groans.

You slide the incoming call button to the right, putting it on speaker, just as Ransom grabs your ass to give himself some leverage to fuck up into you as you pick up the phone, making you moan loudly.

"K-Kenji, hi! I'm a b-b-bit b-busy," you say, and you can hear the guy on the other end let out a deep sigh as he hears the skin against skin, your moans leaving your lips, and the groans coming from Ransom.

"Don't fucking bother to contact me ever again, you fucking slut," he says before hanging up the phone, and you drop your phone on the couch before letting yourself fall forward to kiss Ransom fiercely.

"Hm, I'm the only one who gets to call my girl a slut when I'm railing her," Ransom grits out, but he doesn't slow down in the slightest, instead only picking up his pace even more.

He keeps hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, and before you know it, you're falling apart on his cock, just like you said you wanted to. It only takes a few more thrusts from Ransom before he spills his seed into the condom, wishing he was shooting it into your bare cunt instead.

"F-fuck, feels so fucking good when you cum for me," he says, slowly riding you through both your orgasms until you're completely fucked out, your head lying in the crook of his neck.

"Love you so much, Baby. Can't believe I didn't tell you that sooner," he says, and you just hum in response, getting sleepy after the way he made you cum for him.

You stayed on the couch for a little longer before Ransom picked you up and carried you to the bath. He slipped in and put you on his lap, your head resting against his shoulder as he carefully washed your body.

"Thank you, Ran. Love you so much," you say when you're both done, and he gives you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs to wear to bed.

"I love you too, Baby. And I plan on making the date I'm taking you on unforgettable," he says as he snuggles you into his chest. The two of you fall asleep not long after that, and you've had the best sleep in a while snuggled up in his arms.

[ramp-it-up]

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Minx Drysdale)

Word Count: a little over 1K

Summary: Ransom helps your anxiety.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, RPF. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Mentions of anxiety, nervousness, restless sleep. Soft Ransom, sleepy sex, manual sex, nipple play, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex, p-in-v, a lil' dumbification kink, good girl kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, breeding kink.

A/N: This is for #KinktoberMaybe and may or may not be based on some things that may or may not have happened in real life. Part of the Minx Series.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

"You Up?"

You rolled over and looked Ransom in his sky blue eyes. Maybe you’d dreamt him asking you that. It made you remember the days when he would text you begging to come over at 2 am.

After he’d just left you at midnight.

“Mornin’ Ran.”

Ransom leaned up on his elbow and so he could see you better. You’d been sleeping restlessly, making a 180 degree turn with your head ending up at the foot of the bed.

You'd been ball of anxiety lately, working on the final edits of your book and more than a little nervous about your debut novel, despite the encouragement Ransom and Walter gave you. Ransom had even said it was the most brilliant thing he’d read in a while. That was high praise coming from him.

Caring for an active toddler and trying to make sure that you didn’t neglect Ransom were forefront in your mind as well. You were exhausted from what seemed a million things at once and had fallen into bed late the night before.

“You sure you’re awake?”

He did ask you that. You smiled at your husband and nodded.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Good. C’mere. Wanna make you cum.”

Your giggle caught in your throat as you saw he was serious. You just hummed as you moved into his outstretched arms and grabby hands.

“Ran?”

You had no doubt about his desire for you, but this was new.

Ransom pulled down your panties and lifted your tank top up to your chin. He pulled you close and hooked his leg over yours, opening you up to the cool air of the room.

“Been thinking about this all night when you were tossing and turning. You need something to calm you the fuck down.”

You gasped as Ransom moved his fingers into your mouth.

“Be a good fucking girl and get ‘em wet for me, Minx.”

“Hmmmm? Ummmhmmm.”

You nodded as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your anxiety started slipping away as Ransom whispered sweet nasty words in your ear.

“I’m gonna play with this sweet, sloppy cunt until you cum a couple of times in my arms. I’m gonna hold you down and make you take it while I watch that perfect slutty face of yours as you take what I do to you.”

Ransom was already playing with one nipple with the hand that was around you and grasping you close to him; as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a trail of saliva filled the path of his fingers down your neck and to the other as he twisted your nipples in tandem. You moaned at the disparate sensations from wet and dry fingers, wiggling in his grasp.

“Look at you. Going dumb all from me playing with you already. Gonna be my sweet little dumb baby girl? I haven’t even started yet. Go dumb all you want. Just be sure not to run away from what I’m about to do.”

You sighed and sank further into his arms, trusting and anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

“Oh!”

Ransom’s hand was at your pussy now, and the quick force of air before his finger came down to slap it was your only warning.

“Ran!”

You arched, pushing your ass into the mattress and your head into his arm as you moved with pleasure. You could feel his hard cock on your hip and the wet spot on his boxers and you reached for it.

Ransom let you have what you wanted, and he kissed your temple.

“Sweet little dumb Minxy for my cock. Go ahead. Play with it. S’not gonna stop me from doing what I want.”

Ransom smoothed his fingers down your clit, collecting the wetness there and pushing all three fingertips inside you sideways as your thumb swiped across his wet, dripping slit.

“Fuck, Ran…,” you whined as he moved and curled his digits just right to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Ransom thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Right… right there, hunh?”

Ransom chuckled into your ear as you opened your legs wider for him. He bit your earlobe as his thumb strummed your clit. Your legs started shaking and you arched into his mouth which was now at your nipple, sucking hard and causing sparks to go off behind your eyelids.

“Ummmhmmmm.”

You started stroking him faster and licking your lips. Ransom was paying rapt attention to all your expressions.

“What’re you thinking about, Minxy? Giving me that neck while I make you cum? Want me to stuff it down your throat?”

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as the thought made you even wetter and Ransom could feel your pussy tremor.

“Yes, please Ran!”

You nodded frantically.

“Not this time, Minx. You always manage to distract me with that and you run away from your orgasm. This time you’re gonna get what you deserve.”

“Nooo…”

This time you shook your head as Ransom carefully watched your face. He could read you like a book and he pulled you even closer by pulling his arm around your throat. He pulled your legs even further apart as he concentrated on circling your clit as he controlled your air.

You grasped at his arm because you felt what was coming, and it was going to be big. Ransom eased up on your windpipe as you arched into the bed again, your body stiffening as you neared the top of the rollercoaster of pleasure. His mouth drew nearer to your ear as you signaled how close you were.

"Give it to me, Minx."

That gravelly bass was all you needed.

“Uh.. ah. OHHHFFUUUUCCCKKK!”

You became a bucking bronco and Ransom's strong arms and leg held you captive to feeling all of the pleasure. Your mind blanked as Ransom relentlessly thumbed your clit.

You couldn't breathe, but you managed a weak, “S-t-tooo much…”

“You can take it. You’re a strong girl. A real good girl Minx. You made me fall for you. You carried Golden. You can do anything. My good, sweet girl.”

You began to feel another orgasm building as Ransom continued. You felt the pressure building again and had to get away, trying to grab his hand in vain.

Ransom’s muscles rippled as his arm stayed right where it was. He palmed the back of your head and tilted your head.

“Look at that. I want you to see what I’m doing to you. What your body is going to do for me…”

He groaned as he felt your pussy spasm when you watched his fingers moving on you.

“Ransom!”

You squealed as you watched yourself squirt all over him. He must have been magic because you thought you saw his hand as it moved even faster between your legs.

“Ahhh. Yes. Yea ha ha yesss! Give me that shit.”

You were sobbing now as Ransom let you go, climbing down your body to put his mouth on you.

You jumped as he licked and sucked your slopping wet slit and smiled at your bliss. You were alternating between tears and laughter as you saw his delighted face.

You tugged his hair gently as he playfully kissed your sodden, pulsing pussy and smiled up at you.

“There now. Don’t you feel relaxed?”

You laughed at your husband.

“I hate you Ransom.”

Random placed another kiss on your pussy as he climbed back up beside you.

“I love you too, Minx.”

You were boneless, floating in space as you looked at your tousle-haired rake of a spouse. You ascertained that he was fully naked and still hard against your thigh even though you were floaty and your eyes were half closed.

“There’s just one more thing Ran...”

“What’s that Minx?”

Ransom's eyes were dark as you pulled him to you. He couldn’t resist slotting himself between your thighs as he stared at your fucked-out face.He leaned down and gave a taste of his you-flavored lips as he slid his thick hard cock inside you and moaned.

“Fuck me back to sleep Ran. Need more rest.”

Ransom rocked deep inside you, sucking and marking up your neck as his hand slid down your body. You relished his girth and the feel of every bump and ridge of him as he started stroking inside you, making your insides light up like the early morning sky.

“Whatever you need, Minx…but you’ve got to give me one more. Around my cock, like the good little girl you are…”

——

If you like it and you know it, hit reblog! 👏🏽👏🏽

[rainydayandmondays]

It's Cold

Summary: Ransom wakes up to a chilly, fall morning with nothing to really combat the cold he feels. It doesn’t help that Jake has you hogged across the bed to himself.

Pairing: Jake Jensen X Reader, Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, fingering (women receiving), creampie.

Author's note: It's been a while since I've written anything for a fandom. We'll see how this goes 🤷🏾‍♀️

Chapter 1 in All is Well series written with @buckybarnesisdaddy and @theinheriteddutchess.

Early November

Waking to soft puffs of air on the back of your neck, you’re aware of the bear hug hold that Jake has on you. He’s worn his favorite Stars Wars t-shirt and boxer briefs to bed. But they do little against the fall morning. The temperatures had just started changing and even though outside was no autumn landscape, the cooler air of last night had caught you by surprise. Jake pulled you tight to the curve of his body, greedily soaking up any body heat that radiates off you. He was a covers hog as much as he was a cuddler. And while most times he preferred being the big spoon, there were nights that he curled into you. Your arms did little to reach across his broad chest and left you circling his trim waist. He liked those nights, your hands always seemed to wander down in your sleep. In the morning, he would wake to your hand tucked just under his waistband. His dick somehow knew it was you and reached out for the tips of your fingers. Like it knew it belonged there.

As Jake continues to snore into the crook of your neck, you blink away the sleep to see your other companion. Ransom Drysdale was a new addition. Where Jake was nothing but ready to please, his golden retriever energy taking over most of his personality, Ransom was like one of those temperamental Bengal cats. It’s leopard coat just flashy enough to catch anyone’s attention. But those paws always ready to swat away at anyone who had the gall to get too close. He did things on his terms, living to be contrary to everything and everyone. He had fought you, ready to prove that he didn’t need anyone, especially not you. The others had tried to get to know him and all had quickly been caught on the wrong side of his harsh tongue and haughty expression. It was Jake, his complete opposite, that had brought him around. More specifically, the way that Jake was with you. Jake didn’t care how he looked tagging along behind you. He didn’t care how small he looked letting you be the big spoon. And the way you called him Jakey. Were you trying to infantilize him?  Even now, Jake had so wholly wrapped himself around you, you would think that he thought you would vanish from his bare hands.

Ransom had woken up before either of you. The cold nipped at his body. He always preferred sleeping in the nude. However, you made him promise to at least wear underwear when all three of you were together. Most nights he would come to bed with your required attire, only to slip them off and kick them to the bottom of the bed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the squeak of surprise you would give if you rolled into him during the night. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had to offer, never had any complaints. But there was something extra special about you finding him and his little friend in the night. The fact that he disobeyed made it all the better.

But now he lay there, the cool of the room getting to him and you across the bed snuggled into Jake. He frowned as he watched the two of you peacefully laying together. He wasn’t jealous in the slightest. Never could be. It was cold, just cold. Jake’s snoring wasn’t helping either. He stared at you, daring you to wake up. You couldn’t be that comfortable. Reaching up, he drew a line down the side of your face. His fingers tingled from the warmth of your cheek. You had to feel that. You twitched slightly, letting a little moan slip out. That got his attention and he twitched himself, all be it a little lower. He reached out again, this time going down and then up your cheek. That did it.

You caught Ransom quickly lowering his hand beneath the blankets. The outline of his profile in your direct eyeline. You watched as he pretended to sleep.

“Ran?” You whisper his name, careful not to wake the IT expert behind you. You reach out to lay a hand on his bare chest. Ransom always liked to complain about the cold. Except for sleeping, he was always wrapped in some kind of sweater. Wooly, cable knight, it didn’t matter. Feeling his skin, you feel the coolness of his chest. That cool touch you felt is starting to make more and more sense.

“Ransom?” Hearing his full name causes the corner of him mouth to twitch. Smug bastard was going to be difficult this morning.

Rolling towards Jake, you ignore the small huff leave Ransom.

“Jakey?” Reaching out to put a hand against Jake’s cheek, you feel him pull you closer, his legs locking with yours.

The small moan he lets out as you start to follow the lines of his sideburns, let’s you know that at least one of them would listen to you this morning.

“Jakey, wake up.” Your second call to him has his eyes fluttering open. You see as he tries to focus in on your face without his glasses. Once he zeroes in on your soft smile, he sighs softly, leaning in to give you a small peck.

“Morning precious,” you smile at the nickname. After making the mistake of letting him know how you never really got The Lord of Rings, he set out to show you the entire trilogy over the span of a holiday weekend. By the second movie, he had taken to quietly mouthing Gollum’s lines. When calling him out on it, he turned to you and whispered “My precious.” The nickname had stuck ever since.

“Can you go see if Bucky’s made breakfast?” You watch as his forehead creases. The three of you are usually the last to the breakfast table each morning. The sun was barely breaking its way through the curtains. It couldn’t be time to go down just yet.

Staring down at you, he goes to question your request until he sees Ransom shift behind you. The way he subtly inches towards you, feigning sleep while his mouth inches into a slight smirk. Jake looks back to you, seeing your eyes silently pleading that he understand.

Jake understood. He always did. Your arrangement maybe different from societal norms, but when had he ever worried about that. When you found him bent down picking up small baggies of orange slices outside of his niece’s soccer game, you hadn’t judge him. Just smiled down at him and helped get the remaining bags into his backpack. Even after months of dating when he let you know about his real job, not the fake corporate IT one that he told everyone, you had just smiled. He moved into the house shortly after and readily took on the role of your person. There were others in the house, but he was yours.

When Ransom entered the picture, he saw how hard he fought everyone. It was going to take time for him to trust and be trusted. Jake pitied him. He just needed someone to not judge him. You, who hadn’t judged all his dorky attributes, laughed at his awkward jokes, and didn’t run after learning about his elite task force, you could help Ransom. Lying in bed a few months into Ransom being here, he suggested that he move to your room. And as before, you just smiled up at him.

“Okay,” Jake nodded leaving you with a longer morning kiss this time.

 Watching Jake grab his hoodie off the back of his desk chair and hustle out the room, you turn back to Ransom. This time you find him facing you, eyes staring down at you, the smirk full blown.

“It’s cold,” at his remark, you give him your own smirk and scoot over to snuggle into his chest. Ransom would never ask specifically to be held. He didn’t need that. Two people embracing without it leading to fucking. What was the point of that? He just needed you to get close enough and his little friend should be able to take over.

Moving closer to him, you quickly gasp as you figure out just why he’s so cold. Little bastard broke the rules again. Looking up at him, you see his tongue quickly jut out to lick his bottom lip, “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head at him, bowing it to fit beneath his chin. You’re not sure where the nickname came from. Knowing Ransom, it was to either get under Jake’s skin with a term of endearment too close to his for you. Or he probably thought he was being smart by playing off the fact that when it came to this room, you were in charge.

Feeling you breathe against his collarbone, Ransom runs his hand down your thigh, grabbing just under your knee. Hiking it over his hip, he leans into you. Fuck this cuddling.

“Ran,” you chastised him as he griped your hip and began palming your ass cheek.

“It’s. Cold,” he punctuated each word, moving your hips closer and causing your breath to hitch. The heat from you radiating through your underwear, giving him just a taste of what your warmth felt like. If only he could maneuver the both of you just right, he knew he could slip in. He was confident you would be ready for him.

“What do you need, Ran?” His eyes snapped down towards you. So concentrated in pressing you against him, he hadn’t noticed you staring at him. He hated this question. What could he possibly need? You always did this. Tried to reduce him to some needy little thing. You had Jake the puppy to be that for you. He was Ransom Drysdale for fuck’s sake. If anything, you should be needing him. You did need him, he could tell you that you needed him in your pebbled nipples he could feel through your nightshirt and your thigh tightening around him.

“I need you to stop being a bitch so we can fuck,” he growled down at you.

Your answer was instant, as you quickly untangled yourself from his grasp and started to roll towards the other end of the bed. You don’t get to roll away. Not from him. His hand shot to your wrist pulling you back. You looked at him incredulously, body tight, as the corners of your mouth pinched in. He could tell he fucked up. But what’s it to him. If anything, he could go find one of the others and have them bounce on his cock for him. He didn’t need you. He didn’t need anyone.

He stared back at you, willing you to break first from this Mexican standoff. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That should do the trick. You hated his smirk, knowing he only did it because he’s an asshole. You would throw him out of the room, send him downstairs to think about what he said. Any second now, you would yell at him to get out.

Looking at Ransom, purposely wearing that smirk, you see his eyes flicker down in almost regret. It’s a split second, if anything, and he quickly recovers his smug mask. You sigh, knowing that he was a spoiled brat. But only because he had learned that was only way to get attention. Ransom needed attention, constant attention. For him, your attention meant you cared, and if you cared, maybe you could like him. If you liked him, maybe you could comfort him. If you comforted him, maybe he could feel loved.

The tension leaves your body and you relax back down next to him. With your wrist still in his hand, he doesn’t notice your other hand reach under the covers. Sure that he has won, his smirk falls into a true smile until he feels you grab onto him. It’s not your first time handling him, you know how to tight to squeeze and where to rub. You slide up and down, giving him a few languid strokes before using the type of your fingernail to gently scratch along the head. His body’s response is immediate. A low groan leaving his throat, as he dribbles onto your fingers.

“Is this what you need, Ran?” Exhaling harshly through his nose, he bites down on his tongue to stop from answering. Gazing up at him, you stroke him a bit more, running her fingernail along the vein on the underside of him. You notice the tick in his jaw as he bares down, refusing to admit to needing this. Your shirt having ridden up, you trap him between his pelvis and your tummy. Rubbing him along your soft belly, he slides easily as he continues to drip onto you.

Jolting at the sensation of your skin against him, he tightens his grasp on your wrist still trapped between your torsos. Peeking up at him, you catch his blown pupils gazing down at you. You let a quick smile go just to push his buttons that bit more. He answers by grabbing onto your leg, hiking it back over his hip. His hand inches over your ass before disappearing under the edge of your underwear.

The slick his fingers encounter quickly coats them and he runs his index and middle over your lips. He could feel them getting puffy, imagining how they looked cushioning his two fingers. He slid them back and forth, just nudging at your little hood that was just starting to pull back. One more pass and he shoves them into you. You audibly gasp into his neck and he just watches you, dazed at you crumbling under him. Your own hand continues to press him against your tummy, encouraging him to rut onto you.

“Stop,” your response is strong given your labored breathing. He stops the glide of his fingers but gives one final tap to that spongey spot that always leaves you humming. You glare at him as you untangle your wrist from his hold to push him onto his back.

Swinging your leg over his hips, you straddle him as his hands on your thighs steady you. Pushing you your underwear to the side, you hold him in place as you lower onto him. His fingers dig into your hips as you drop. There’s that warmth he needed.

Fully seated, you lean forward placing your forehead against his. He was sure you were going in for a kiss. If you needed a kiss, he figured he could give you that. He mouth parts, waiting for your move, only for you to whisper against his lips, “Fuck your princess.”

Well, fuck him if that didn’t make something in his head switch on. He brought up his legs, using the purchase the bed gave his feet and started pumping into you. You bounced atop him, your arms wrapping around his neck. The needy little moans spilling out of you and onto his lips, as your fingers tangled into his hair. He could feel you clenching around him and he knew he had you. Reaching a hand over, he rubbed at that little pearl, tapping at it on every downstroke. You finally broke with a choked yelp and he felt your vice grip surround him.

“Take it. Take it,” he babbles as your walls flutter around him, urging his balls to pull up, and let go. He heard your little squeak as he held you to him, shooting what had to be a week’s worth of cum. He feels you kiss him as he pumps into you. He knew you needed that. As he came down, you milked him a couple of times, squeezing gently as you laid on his chest.

Rolling off of him, you turn to him, his eyes closed and his breathing quieting.

“Still cold?” He chuckles at your question, licking his lips and turning towards you.

“It wouldn’t be such a problem, if your other one didn’t insist on hogging the covers.” Sighing, you read his comment for what it is. Ransom would never ask to be held. Ransom doesn’t need you.

“It’s not that you’re cold. You’re actually hot. You’re a furnace. You don’t retain heat, you radiate it.” He smirks at your analysis, readying a smart comeback, you cut him off, “Go take a shower.”

He snickers before sitting up and searching for his underwear that’s bunched at the bottom of the bed. Purposely bending in front of you to bring his boxer briefs up, he makes sure you get a show of it. He knew you needed that.

Opening the bedroom door, you hear him remark, “You can go in now, puppy.”

“Ran,” you scolded him, to which he holds his hands up and walks out.

Grabbing the duvet from the edge of the bed, you see Jake come in with a mug of what hopefully is Bucky’s freshly brewed coffee.

“Okay to come back in?” You nod at his question as he nudges the door close with his foot, before approaching you with a Yoda mug.

“Bucky is still working on breakfast. It’s French toast day. He was still dipping the toast in egg when I went down, so the coffee wasn’t ready yet. But he walked me through the whole process.” You smiled at Jake as he rambles. More than likely he’s already had his morning cup waiting to return to bed. Accepting the mug, you take a few snips before putting it down on the nightstand.

“Come back to bed,” Lifting the duvet, you reach for Jake. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Hurrying to his side of the bed, he whips his hoodie off and throws it towards his desk. Climbing in behind you, he’s quick to pull you against him. Griping your waist, he slips his hand into the front of your underwear. Hooking his hand around you, he feels your swollen lips and the stickiness of Ransom slowly leaking out of you.

“He left her here like this. She’s all puffy, but still needs something to fill her. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” you whimper as he gathers the little spend that has leaked out and pushes it back into you with his fingers.

Relaxing behind you, he leaves smalls kisses onto the nape of your neck. His fingers still inside you, sporadically tapping at your sweet spot.

“I love you, Jakey,” you whisper, as you begin to nod off to sleep.

Jake smiles behind you, tugging you closer, “My precious.”

@theinheriteddutchess, @buckybarnesisdaddy, @sarahdonald87

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi! 💙

For your impromptu springtime ask game, I'd love to request Ransom Drysdale with smut prompt 3. “do you want them to hear you being such a slut?”

Thank you in advance! 💙

a scheme on a spring day

pairing: husband!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, anal play/butt plug, anal sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, choking, daddy kink, dirty talk, light degradation, light humiliation, praise kink, light bdsm, orgasm control, pet names (baby, baby girl), aftercare, fluff, light family angst, established relationship

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: hi hi thank you so much for sending in this prompt!! this turned out to be a little more angsty than i anticipated, but sometimes i just wanna smuggle Ransom away from his family and cuddle him—and this was my opportunity to live out that dream!! anyway, i hope you enjoy!! ♡

You knew better than to let your husband convince you to go along with one of his schemes, but Ransom Drysdale had a way of winning you over to his side. In fact, it took shockingly little convincing from Ransom to get you to go along with his idea to make a boring visit with his family more entertaining. 

But then, he was your husband, and you trusted him. Besides, you knew you’d get just as much enjoyment from his scheme as he did.

Eventually, anyway. 

Still, you couldn’t help but rue the moment you’d given in to Ransom’s idea when you walked into the Thrombey house desperately aware of the plug in your ass that shifted with every step you took.

From an outsider’s perspective, you knew you looked every bit the presentable wife on Ransom’s, wearing a pretty spring sundress with sandals. But you and your husband knew the extra accessory you’d worn, and it gave you just as much of a thrill as you were sure it gave Ransom to know what you were hiding beneath your skirt.

By the time you arrived at the Thrombey estate, you’d already soaked through your panties on the short ride over from the home you shared with Ransom. To make matters worse, you had to make small talk with Linda and Richard while worrying about your arousal dripping down your thighs.

Thankfully, Ransom kept his hand on your lower back, his touch having a steadying effect on you. That is, except when his palm occasionally dropped low to grope your ass, making you shoot him a warning glare when no one was looking. 

He ignored you, pretending to play the part of dutiful son and grandson. You were the only one who saw the way he gritted his teeth, making the muscle in his jaw pop, when Richard or Linda gushed over how you’d turned Ransom’s life around. How you’d finally been the one person to set him straight.

No matter how many times you tried to brush off the comments, telling them that Ransom had made himself a respectable man, they persisted. When you could tell it had become too much for Ransom—and you worried over the state of his teeth if he kept grinding them—you politely excused yourself and your husband from the conversation.

Before you could get roped into a sales pitch for Joni’s latest pyramid scheme, Ransom guided you to the back of the house and out onto the porch, though he didn’t stop there. When you set foot in the lush green lawn and turned your face up to the bright spring sunshine, something inside your chest loosened—which only reminded you of the plug wedged deep in your ass.

Ransom paused for only a moment to brush a kiss to your lips, a thank you for getting him away from his parents, and then he grabbed your hand and began tugging you toward the tree line that separated the lawn from the rest of the Thrombey estate. 

Behind the house, there were paths that meandered into the forest and Ransom led you down one of these until you were hidden in the trees. There, scattered along the forest floor were hundreds of small purple flowers, sprung up thanks to the spring rains. 

You admired the blooms as you walked behind Ransom, your husband picking his way carefully off the path and beneath the shade of a massive tree.

Turning to you, Ransom wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you again, a more thorough plundering of your mouth that had you moaning against his lips. Your knees went weak beneath you, but your husband’s strong arms held you up, your fingers digging into the soft wool of his sweater. 

When Ransom pulled away, he didn’t move far, his forehead pressing to yours and his deep breaths ghosting past your lips, making you crave him more. 

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, baby,” he murmured, squeezing you in his arms and pressing a quick kiss to your swollen lips. “I think it’s time daddy gives you a little treat for being so good.” Ransom bucked his hips against you so you could feel the bulge in his pants, making you moan again.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you cried, throwing your head back and baring your throat to Ransom’s hungry mouth. His trailed kisses down your neck, grinding his erection against your belly until both of you were desperate with desire.

Then, he turned you around and knelt behind you, pushing your dress up past your hips and baring your ass to him. He pulled your panties down your legs, ducking forward to sink his teeth into the plush softness of your ass, making you squeal loudly. 

“Ransom!” you admonished your husband, shooting him a look over your shoulder, though there was no real heat to your tone. Especially not when Ransom licked the bite mark he’d left, wringing a soft whimper from your lips.

“You know I can’t help myself when it comes to your ass, baby,” Ransom said, exactly zero repentance in his tone. You huffed a laugh, but the sound devolved into a low groan when your husband began to play with the plug in your ass, pulling it out and pushing it back in. “You’re such a good girl,” Ransom murmured, pressing kisses to the globes of your ass between his words, “Wearing this pretty little plug for daddy—now it’s time for your reward.”

With that, Ransom eased the plug from your tight hole, tucking it into his pocket while he pulled out a small bottle of lube. He spread more in your ass and on his cock when he pulled it free from his pants. Then he was helping you sit down on his lap, his cock sliding easily into your tightest hole.

You gasped and moaned, feeling Ransom’s cock stretch your ass even more than the plug. But wearing it had prepared you well enough that it didn’t hurt. You only felt the delicious fullness and pleasure of Ransom filling you up, moaning happily when your ass pressed flush against your husband’s thighs. 

Ransom leaned back against the tree you sat beneath, pulling you to recline against his chest, making it impossible for you to move. All you could do was sit in your husband’s lap, your ass impaled on his cock, your pussy dripping down between your legs and coating his balls while you enjoyed the warm spring day, the sweet scent of the purple flowers filling your nose and the breeze rustling the trees of the forest.

“Enjoying your treat, baby?” Ransom rumbled in your ear, a little bit of teasing in his tone that made you squirm. Both of you moaned as you shifted and Ransom’s big hands grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs wide open. “Such a filthy little slut, baby girl,” he groaned, cupping your pussy in his palm. You whined, trying to grind against him, but he spanked your cunt instead, making you cry out. “Soaking wet from taking daddy’s cock in your ass when we’re supposed to be spending time with my family.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond because Ransom shoved three of his fingers into your pussy, the intrusion feeling so much more overwhelming with his cock buried in your other hole. You screamed. Your back arching away from Ransom’s chest, your head falling back on his shoulder, and the piercing wail of your pleasure filling your ears and the forest around you.

Quick as lightning, Ransom’s other hand flew to your throat and he squeezed it tightly, cutting off the sound. “You’re going to have to be quiet, baby girl, unless you want them to hear you,” he growled in warning. 

But at the same time, Ransom’s fingers began fucking your pussy, plunging sloppily into your cunt, his palm slapping against your clit with every thrust. It was all you could do to shriek and squeal as pleasure consumed you.  

“Do you want them to hear you being such a slut?” Ransom taunted you, his words only making you writhe and squirm more on his cock. “Do you want them to find you like this—my cock buried in your sweet ass, my fingers fucking your tight cunt, and you unable to control yourself because you’re such a fucking slut for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, not even knowing if you were agreeing with your husband or simply urging him on. Your pleasure was building, coiling tight in your core, and you knew if he kept up his treatment of your body, you were going to come. “Please, daddy, please can I come?” 

“Already, baby girl?” Ransom teased, warmth in his tone. You whined your answer, pressing your throat into his hand and he chuckled. Your husband brushed a kiss to your cheek, fucking you harder with his fingers, grinding his palm against your clit every time they bottomed out in your cunt. “Go ahead, baby, come whenever you want.”

That was all you needed to tip you over the edge. Your screams of pleasure were stifled by Ransom’s hand around your throat, choking you hard enough that your entire being was reduced down to the feeling of his cock in your ass and his fingers in your cunt. Your orgasm was explosive, your body going tight and shaking through wave after wave of ecstasy.

Your husband grunted in your ear, and you knew from the way his cock throbbed in your tight hole that he was spilling himself deep in your body. A pleased smile curved your lips as you sagged back against his chest, letting the warmth of his come fill you with as much satisfaction as your release had.

Heaving a deep groan of relief, Ransom’s body relaxed beneath yours, his arms circling your waist and holding you tight against his body while he pressed butterfly kisses to your cheek, neck and shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as his kisses, a contrast to the rough way he’d fucked you.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I needed this today.”

You stroked his arms soothingly and turned your face so you could capture your husband’s lips in a gentle kiss. “I know, Ran,” you whispered when you pulled away. And you did. 

You knew how hard it was for Ransom to see his family. No matter how hard he tried, they still only saw him as the black sheep. In fact, marrying you was the only right thing he’d done in their eyes. 

It made days at the Thrombey house nearly unbearable, which was why you always went along with Ransom’s schemes to make it enjoyable for both of you. His ideas were often filthy and naughty, but they meant giving your husband the reassurance he needed to get through the day. 

So if you had to go along with a scheme on a spring day to help your husband, you were more than happy to do so—especially when it ended with the both of you smiling and content in each other’s arms.

[biteofcherry]

Ransom + free use 😏

When Ransom first mentioned free use and what he found hot about it, you were spent and draped over his body and your brain didn't restore yet to proper functioning.

They way he talked about taking you whenever he felt the urge made you resonate with this desire.

What you didn't take into consideration, however, was that free use meant anytime anywhere.

Which was why you were currently pressed against the bookshelves in the Thrombey's house famous library, Ransom's cock driving into you from behind, while a celebratory party for his new book release was in full swing.

Your hands couldn't find purchase, clawing at the wooden shelves, against the fragile covers of the volumes. Edge of one of the shelves was cutting into your boobs, just above your nipples.

In the shiny trinket that stood on one of the shelves - Harlan's engraved, silver award - you saw the reflection of the library door.

Wide open. Inviting any prying eyes to witness your indecency.

"That is, my little bookslut," Ransom chuckled as your pussy clenched around him on a particular hard thrust.

"Though it's never about the books, right?" He pressed forward, making the whole bookcase shake from the way he slammed your body into it with each snap of his hips.

"It's about the cock. You're just a needy slut for fictional cock."

Ransom's teeth grazed your skin as he mouthed along your shoulder. His breath a hot waft weakening your knees.

"But it's not better than mine, huh?" He wasn't fishing for compliments. As much as he liked having his ego stroked, Ransom knew very well that you worshipped his dick.

"No, never." You keened, tilting your head to the side and inviting his mouth to mark your neck. "Nothing is better than your cock! Love it, love it-"

"Oh, I know, my little whore." Instead of a bite, he kissed your pulse point softly.

"Come on it, then." He ordered, gripping one of your wrists and guiding your hand down between your thighs.

"Cream all over that cock, before we go back downstairs and you try convincing our guests that this new romance book you've reviewed is hotter than my cum dripping down your thigh."

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[hansensgirl]

you better not shout, better not cry.

summary. | they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.

pairings. | Dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader, Dark!Charles Blackwood x Reader, Dark!Chris Evans x Reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader, Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Dark!Andy Barber x Reader.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, gang bang, eight-some, (forced and not forced) drinking, manipulation, coercion, dark themes, crimes, threatening, slight angst, mentions of cheating, age gaps, Daddy kink, Sir kink, power dynamics, boss/employee relationships, face fucking, oral (m receiving), dom/sub, finger sucking, degrading, praise, humiliation, voyeurism, fingering, double penetration, cum marking, facials, anal, unprotected sex, cream-pie kink, slapping, spanking, smoking, choking, hair pulling, manhandling, + more. 18+, DARK FIC.

word count. | 13k.

authors note. | merry christmas/happy holidays! please be wary of the warnings, and have yourself a merry christmas and/or a great day! don’t use my gif without permission, and don’t forget to read and reblog because i worked so hard on this. IF YOU’RE INSPIRED BY THIS FIC OR WANT TO USE A SIMILAR PLOT PLEASE MESSAGE ME FIRST OR ELSE YOU’LL BE BLOCKED. love you all sm! also gonna be submitting this to my bb @mypoisonedvine’s festive holiday challenge! (ty for beta-ing and putting up with me).

Make my wish come true… All I want for Christmas is you…

Keep reading

[hansensgirl]

𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇.

summary. | His claws are shining bright in the dark as he’s lifting up your little red skirt. Unlike the others, he won’t leave you in the dirt.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, drugging (sex pollen), obsession, stalking, chasing, manipulation, possessiveness, kidnapping, mention of drug use, mild age gap, smut, Daddy kink, fingering, pussy slapping, humiliation, praise, pet names, rough sex, vaginal sex, virginity loss, corruption kink, innocence kink, dirty talk, mild manhandling, creampie kink, size kink (ransom’s cock is so big), heavy dumbification, implied, cumplay/eating, orgasm denial, overstimulation, and more. DARK FIC, 18+, MINORS DNI!

word count. | 13.3k.

pairings. | Dark!Best Friend!Ransom Drysdale x Innocent!Best Friend!Reader, Male OC x Reader (brief).

author’s note. | please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANYTHING from my fics and you don’t ask for permission, you will be blocked and reported. i’m also going to be gifting my most special baby @barnesjamcs this fic for her bday (early). my baby, i don’t have enough words to describe my love for you. thank you so fucking much for everything! i love you so much! playlist.

Your heeled boots click on the floor, and your new coat fans out behind you—but it’s not outrageous. In your hands isn’t much; your phone, your purse, and the ticket that got you into this overtly-prestigious building. It’s worse than the gallery you toured last, but the art that hangs on the walls makes up for your distaste.

The steps you take are mild, but they’re quick enough to bring you to him. When you walk, you feel elegant. In your mind, you pretend you’re one of the most important people in this damned place. On the speakers is a classical piece that you might just Shazam and bring back to the Hot 100 charts when you tell your boss to play it at the library.

But you can swear that you’ve heard this number in a movie before.

Promises and vows are things that are just blasphemous to break. You like to believe that an angel falls from heaven every time someone goes against their words. And when he asked what happens when one fulfills their oaths, you had no answer to give him. Good behaviour is rarely rewarded, and bad behaviour is always dealt with.

So, as you swore to do, you come whenever he calls.

“Did you know that you can ask your Uber driver to hit the gas? It’s simple, really, just open your mouth and drop a ‘please,’” Ransom intones from behind you, and you halt your movements. Your dreams break like hardened caramel on top of a dark brown plate. Under it is a smear of dark chocolate, and you since then have not wondered why rich people are so wolfish. Ransom is no exception.

“No, I can’t, Ransom! It’s rude, and it’s dangerous,” you whisper-shout to him, and you cast your eyes to the woman standing next to him. He’s got a type, and it’s not you, apparently. “You know what’s really rude and dangerous? You not showing up fast enough,” he counters, and he walks around you. Ransom places you under a microscope, and he examines you thoroughly.

You’re not suddenly self-conscious, but it just seems to worsen when he’s around. He picks up on it, and he knows you too well, even with a glance of his eyes. He’s the needle, and you’re the battered vinyl that’s a bit warped and scratched—but he’s spent too much money on you to just throw you out.

“How is that dangerous?” you question, and you shove your phone into the white pocket of your coat, letting it accompany your headphones and gloves. They’re fingerless because the Amazon pictures are so deceiving—and you’re so foolish. “A hurt and lonely Ransom is a dangerous Ransom,” he teases before wrapping his arms around your waist.

When Ransom’s fingers brush against the sensitive parts of your body, you wonder how those ballerinas do it with their counterparts. When they’re spun around and tossed with ease, do they get the butterflies? Or when you’re being held and guided oh so gently, do they get all shy as you do?

His pointy chin rests on your shoulder, and you know he must be uncomfortably hunched over right now. He stands at a height you can’t seem to remember, but you can recall that he’s well over six feet.

“Vanilla?” your friend questions after he places his nose on the fabric that shields you from the cold winds. You nod your head, and you hold back from naming the notes that you’ve got memorized.

Vanilla, whipped cream, caramel, chocolate, benzoin, sweetness, and musk.

“Hugh, honey?” his date calls, and she walks over to where the two of you stand. You’ve been through this before. It’s a rinse and repeat routine, one that you want to say you’re tired of, but you have to admit, you love helping Ransom out. “Princeton. From New York. Econ major,” Ransom tells you, and you realize that she’s just another girl to him.

You give her your name before she can even place her manicured nails on his chest—red, a diamond, and almond-shaped. Like any other artist, you stretch one of your colour-covered hands out to greet her. Some days it’s paint—most days, it’s pen ink, and on rare occasions, it’s the dryness of erasers.

Her name is something you’ll always remember because you’re you—these moments are unforgettable. But he’s him; he never cares to remember past the ruined night. You can’t hate him for his habits, and you won’t make him change them.

“Is this your friend?” she asks Ransom, and he shakes his head. Instead of your stomach dropping the first time he did this, you grin wildly. “This is my best friend,” he enunciates, and you nod your head. She doesn’t care enough about your friendship with Ransom to ask questions, but he gives her answers nonetheless.

“We met a while ago when she was an intern at my grandfather’s company, and we’ve been best buds since,” he hums, gazing at you dreamily. You give him the same look, except your eyes are filled with wonderment. “Well, I think we should get back to our date, Hugh,” she laughs, and she doesn’t think this thought. No, she’s telling him that he needs to leave you or else she’ll go.

You wait for the brutality to strike—for the punch to hit her across the face and leave her too bruised for simple selfies during the golden hour. And it comes, except this time, you’re the victim.

“Of course, honey,” he tells her, and he’s leaving your side before your smile can even drop. Maybe this is your karma; have you ever done a bad thing? Memories of stealing fake flowers from a store when you were younger come back. Flashes of gossiping about a friend—who made you feel worse than she should’ve—fill your eyes. No, no, no, you’re not a bad person! Ransom says that, and he’s always right.

But what the fuck?

The pet name is more bitter than it sounds. He’s not even dating this woman! This is the first time he’s even met her.

“Bunny,” Ransom coos, and you look down to the ground. You’re more hurt than you were the time he jumped from a corner, and you tripped and fell. He held you tightly afterwards, and you haven’t seen the group of trust fund babies who laughed at you ever again. “There’s this surrealism exhibit right over there, okay? Go look at some pieces,” he orders, and before you can even whine, he turns around and grabs his date’s arm.

On your feet, you spin. You don’t even know where this surrealism exhibit is, but you leave the abstractionism display either way. Did you say something that upset him? Is he playing a twisted game with you? Or is Ransom fucking Drysdale really trying to settle down now?

The thought is unbelievable, and you’re just seconds away from calling Marta and letting her know every single detail of the past few minutes.

When the serif font in a bold variant fills your view, you know you can’t come up with an excuse for Ransom to not find you. Saying that you got lost isn’t exactly the smartest thing, not when this place is designed for you to find your way. The arrows aren’t exactly dismissable, but you are.

You’ve seen all these damn paintings before, and you’ve studied them, too. Even if it was done in your spare time, you know more about “The Persistence of Memory” than Ransom’s date. You call her honey, and so does he.

It’s predictable, a bit too predictable. Nobody dabbles in this medium anymore. You’ll only ever see minimalism these days—and it’s so heartbreaking for you, personally. Artists never let their fans see inside their minds despite their envied genius.

René Magritte’s “Les Amants” stares back at you, and it sets the tone for the other five paintings in this small room. Nobody else is in here but you, and you’re okay with that. Cameras aren’t allowed, and you find that rule to be utterly useless as you hear a couple asking an elderly woman to press on the round button, not the crescent one.

“Is he your favourite?” someone from behind you asks, and you whip your body to face them. You should face the music, too, y’know. “Not quite, but this piece has a special place in my heart. What about you, sir?” you question the man who’s more dressed up than you are. His all-black outfit and shining watch must mean something, right?

“‘The tomb of the wrestlers’ is nice,” he solemnly tells you, and you nod your head. “Is surrealism your favourite?” he then follows up, and you nod your head. “Yeah, even though it’s not as loved as it should be,” you chuckle, and he copies your exact action. His is more hearty, though, and yours is meant to add humour. “I think the same. Though my colleagues believe otherwise, so that’s why this exhibit is shoved to the back,” he sadly tells you.

Ah, so his simple yet fancy outfit does mean something.

“You work here? That’s so cool. Maybe one day you’ll convince them that you’re right.” And one day, you’ll convince Ransom that just because he doesn’t like something doesn’t mean it’s dumb. Does he think you’re dumb? “I hope so…” he drifts off, staring at another piece of art, and you take it as a sign that this book has been closed and you should move on.

Suddenly, though, he gives you his name. It’s nice, though less indelible than Ransom’s date herself. And yes, as expected, your best friend will remember it for a while. You tell him yours, and he repeats it in such a way that makes you uneasy. No, no, he doesn’t put you off, but you haven’t heard your name from someone else’s lips in oh so long. “Bunny” is what your Thrombey-Drysdale-born friend refers to you as, while others just say “you” when you’re addressed.

You’re sure they don’t know your name, even though you’ve told them it numerous times.

“It’s pretty. Might come up with a terrible nickname for it, though,” Benjamin tells you, and you laugh. You do it because you can’t help it, not because you have a responsibility. “I wish I could come up with a nickname for you, but your name is already short,” you hum, and you notice that he’s stepped closer to you. When was the last time someone who isn’t Ransom or a family member has been this close to you?

“Well, I think someone like you with creativity can do something,” he whispers near your ear, and you stare at the painting to his right. The Harlequin’s Carnival, Joan Miró. Much like what the few Redditors believe, you realize that Joan Miró has reached into your mind and taken a look at it with a magnifying glass. He’s taken account of your flaws, your inner monologue, your perfections, and so much of you.

On the canvas is simply what he’s managed to observe.

“What do you mean, Benny?” you question, and there it is. Your genius, your brilliance. His name may now be one letter off from the pet name Ransom’s given you, but the moniker works nonetheless. “See? That’s it. And I mean that I can tell you’re very creative; it’s just a feeling,” he explains, and you nod your head. “Sorry, I say weird things,” Benjamin mumbles under his breath, and you quickly tut.

“No! It’s not weird. Please don’t apologize. I think it’s pretty cool how you can tell. You’re basically psychic,” you joke, and he cracks a smile. “I guess I am. Do I need to show you my crystal ball for authenticity purposes?” he joshes, and his words immediately remind you of your beloved friend. Ransom must already be gone with his date because by now, shouldn’t he be pestering you with his dealer on the phone?

You’ve never engaged in his illicit activities, but you don’t humiliate him for doing it.

“Or would taking you back to my place be too much, too soon?” Benjamin suddenly questions in a soothing baritone. Your eyebrows shoot up as far as your muscles allow them to go. The saliva in your mouth makes you choke for a split second, and you have no words for the man you only met a few seconds ago.  “I… Uhm…” You’re utterly speechless, more than the first time you saw Ransom in his birthday suit.

“We should go on a date first, right? Sorry. It’s not often that I see a girl as lovely as you. Do you like coffee? I know this great place; Gracenote. Have you heard of it? Wait, no! We should go to this showcase next week. Yes! It’s expressionism, which is very popular here, but you’ll love it. I promise.”

Benjamin rambles, and his face is pinched with pink. He’s seconds away from resembling the woman’s dress in Les Amants. You stare at that painting once more, wishing you could purchase a print, but you know you can’t. What will you say to people who ask you about it? You’ll give them a sad story of suicide, marriage, and the skirts that Magritte was attached to. Did he really have to share the meaning? You believe that artists don’t owe anyone anything.

Well, except for Banksy and his “crimes.”

You can always lie because, unlike Marta, you can get away with it quite well. Sometimes, a little too well. Misery finds misery, and liars find liars. Your brilliance is shared with Ransom, but he was born with it filled and leaking from that silver spoon (the Thrombey-Drysdales can’t seem to rip it out of his mouth).

You could tell them that it’s about two people who are blindly in love but do not know the other well enough; they’ve got an idea of themselves that they are in love with. It hits close to home because you’re doing it with Ransom.

Okay, yes, this story is predictable. But it’s okay! You’ll get your happy ending either way—the main characters always do. Except for the hopelessly-in-love-best friend who always sits on the sidelines.

“When’s the, uh, the showcase? I’ll have to check my calendar,” you say to him, but your words are untruthful. You’re free for the upcoming week and a few days afterwards, and you have no plans unless Ransom decides to force you out of the room in his home that you spend most of your time in. “Thursday night,” Benjamin squeaks out, and he shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His tone carries hope.

“Yeah, I can do Thursday, Benny.”

You take your tea with a small spoonful of honey, and you’re not upset at the memory that resurfaces. Now, you can hear those ex-peers and much older cousins of yours saying something along the lines of “you’ve matured.” As much as that thought pleases you, it’s not true. You’re just focusing on a good thing that just happened to bless you that night.

The trees outside your home resemble that of the french toast sticks you’ve just made. And so does Ransom’s nose. You make a motion with your finger that he knows so damn well, and he pulls out a handkerchief that Donna gifted him a while back, sometime during Christmas. With a smirk, you watch him wipe his nostrils with the red cloth, one that you can remember first seeing a few years ago.

Walt and the rest of the family had immediately yelled at Ransom when they saw him unwrap the gift. They scolded Donna, albeit jokingly, and told her that he’d never keep the cloth. Now, two years later, he still walks around with it and mocks his family for thinking of him in such a rude manner.

That day was a blur from all the eggnog Fran had given you. Ransom thoroughly enjoyed having to throw you over his shoulders to get you home, though.

“Thanks, bunny,” he smiles, and he drops down into the loveseat that’s across from you. It’s not rare to experience kindness from Ransom. Not when you’re you. But for others, they might as well wait until hell freezes over and Satan catches frostbite. (You said that in front of Walt once, and he immediately tried to find a way to insult Ransom with it).

“No syrup? Really?” he scoffs as he breaks apart the second fluffiest stick out of the pile you have stacked up. The firstmost is left for you. “It’s too early for syrup, Ransom! And plus, there’s sugar on them!” you defend, and he chuckles. “Whatever, bunny. You’re energetic today. What’s going on?” your best friend questions, and you grow shy.

“Promise you won’t get mad, Ransom?” you coax, and the question itself worries Ransom. “Why would I get mad, bunny?” he forces out through gritted teeth, already alight with a flame that only you can put out. “I’m goin’ on a date!” you exclaim, and you place your almost-finished cup of tea on the table in front of you.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“A what now?” he quizzes, immediately standing up from his seat. If this were a soap opera, someone would be fainting right about now. “A date, Ransom! Ugh, you know! I don’t wanna have to explain it,” you sheepishly tell him, stretching your hands out as you walk near your friend. At first, he jerks away and turns to look out the window, which makes you pout.

But when Ransom sees your jutted-out lip, he caves and allows you to engulf him in a hug. You dig your now-manicured nails (covered in clear, sparkly nail polish) into the knitted holes of his sweater, and you stare him in the eyes. Though they’re squinted and a bit red, you manage to hold his gaze and notice the darkness in them. The colour of a sky before the rain is what you end up looking into, not his usual brighter colour.

“Don’t scare this one off, Ransom. Please? I’m the only one in my family without a boyfriend! I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Just give him a chance, Ransom. For me—for your bunny,” you whisper slowly, and he can smell the sugar and chamomile on your tongue. When he inhales sharply, he catches the odd smell of honey and nearly grimaces. He hates it, but he doesn’t have a problem with you using it.

Your middle name might as well be ‘exception’ since that’s what you mostly are for Ransom.

It takes everything in Ransom’s body to not lean forward and capture you in a searing kiss. It would be your first, and it’d be absolutely divine. The kind that romance freaks fawn over yet the type that the critics hate on. He’d eat you up, teeth and all. Your dearest friend would never hurt you, but he’d love to see your lips with a red line that he caused.

Is your blood as sweet as you are? It’s fantastical to wonder this, but he knows your saccharine being is something that none of those country club daughters can compare to. …Is that where he met that woman? He can’t recall the small details, only remembering how upset you looked when one of the older men leered at you. At the golf course the next day, Ransom swung his club at something that didn’t fly among the hole-filled grassy hills.

His white collared polo shirt still has blue blood stained on it.

“Fine, bunny. You know I’m just looking out for you, right? There are so many bad guys out there who don’t deserve you,” Ransom lowly speaks after letting out a deep sigh. You nod your head, bringing your fingers up to the neckline of his sweater. It’s a grey colour, one that you match with your shirt. He wears it on purpose because you’ve stolen it from him before. He can swear that your lotion’s scent is still laced in the fibres.

“I know, Ransom. But I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” you reassure him, and he nearly scoffs.

You’re not a big girl; you’re his little bunny! Who do you think you are saying these kinds of things? You can’t do what he’s been doing for you for the past few years of your relationship. Do you know how many people he’s had to hurt for you? How about how much he loves you? Hm? Do you know that he loves you more than anyone ever will?

“...And Benny is so sweet, I think you’ll like him!” you tell Ransom, interrupting his brutal train of thought. It moves at hundreds of miles per hour, faster than anything you can fathom. You’ve given that guy a nickname? The rich man holds back a vulgar word, knowing you don’t appreciate it when he curses. “Really?” he questions in utter disbelief, and you quickly nod your head.

“Maybe one day you guys can meet! Oh, we can go on a double date!” you propose, sticking your index finger up in affirmation of your seemingly brilliant idea. “Bunny, what are you talking about?” Ransom questions with a smile on his face, knowing that it’ll soothe the blow he’s about to give you. “Me, Benny, that girl you were with last week, and you!” you explain brightly.

Ransom chuckles, and it’s just like those times he’d sit by his Great Nana and laugh at his fighting family. Like for her, he’s got a soft spot with your name etched on it. His neat handwriting has been perfected for the sake of seeing his last name attached to yours. Ransom wishes for you to be a Drysdale, not being able to stand the mere idea of having to be near the Thrombey’s.

“Bunny, I’m not with that lady. It was just a date that didn’t end well,” Ransom tells you, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ in understanding. “Oh, ’M sorry about that Ransom!” you express, and he presses a kiss on your forehead. He keeps his pink lips on your warm skin, not wanting to pull away and desiring to do more than just this. “S’okay, bunny. I can still accompany you,” he whispers against your face.

You laugh while shaking your head, and as sweet as that sound usually is, it displeases your best friend.

Purple glows are what light up the room—if that’s what you can call it. You can barely make out faces and bodies unless they’re wearing some sort of diamonds on them. Most people here are, except for you. You once had your ears pierced, but your job rendered those pieces of jewellery useless. When you quit, you never had the time to re-puncture your lobes.

Ransom has pestered you about it for a while now, and you smile at the memory of him saying he’s willing to go to Claire’s to get the job done. Ransom fucking Drysdale in Claire’s, what a sight that would be.

“I know a few people here, but I’m not leaving you, okay? I can tell you’re a bit uneasy,” Benjamin suddenly states, turning around. His hand is clasped with yours, and you nearly bump into his chest at his abrupt halt. You nod your head before squeaking out a meek thanks, and he smiles down at you. Sweet, sweet Benny.

“Let’s get a drink!” he shouts when the music starts to grow far too loud for your taste. You can feel each beat in your body, shaking your bones slightly. “Okay, but nothing too strong, please,” you request, wanting to fully remember this night. Benjamin laughs and nods his head, and he leads you to the bar.

With each step you take, you’re forced to say, “excuse me.” Everyone cuts you a nasty glare, but you just look down and ignore them as best you can. It’s an environment you could never get used to, but a place that Ransom could quite possibly live and breathe in. As long as he has a lifetime supply of Biscoff cookies. Oh, and you by his side.

Benjamin exchanges a few words with the bartender, who pours different coloured liquids into glasses. When your date stops talking, the moustached-man nods his head and turns around to prepare whatever drinks Benjamin has asked him for. You’re a bit nervous, and you cope with it by tapping your foot against the shiny floors. The black marble tiles look as though they’ve been laced with gold, its streaks resembling veins.

“Hey, do you mind sitting at that table? If it’s gone, we might be standing for the entire night,” Benjamin chuckles, but you know he’s not kidding. In the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Your hand is merely a phantom for your date, and you now sit at the round black table while you patiently wait for Benjamin.

You look around the filled-up room for the art he’s promised, and the only piece you can find is a Van Gogh collage on a woman’s dress. The sight makes you smile, and you realize that you haven’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Your red dress is simple, unlike the clothing that other people wear. It ends slightly above your knees, has cap sleeves, and has a high neckline that almost resembles a turtleneck.

Like most of your outfits, it pairs with one of Ransom’s sweaters. His mother once called you ‘thing 2,’ and Ransom was dubbed ‘thing 1’. For Halloween, he got custom onesies, and you drove to her firm to embarrass him.

“Here you go, doll!” Benjamin exclaims, and he snaps you out of your reverie. The pet name is foreign; you’ve only ever known being called “bunny.” You’re not sure how to feel about it, but it’s odd. On queue, the song changes to a more upbeat tone that might just seem out of place in one of Hollywood’s latest thriller films.

Your drink is fruity and a bright, opaque orange colour. You can dare and say he’s bought you overpriced orange juice, but when you take a smell of it, you can taste the bubbly champagne. “A mimosa?” you question with a smile on your face, shocked that a place like this would even serve one of your guilty pleasures. Benjamin nods his head, and you take note of the bottle of beer that sits in front of him.

Pabst Blue Ribbon—a drink that might receive a punch or two from Ransom if it were a real person.

Or, as he likes to put it, it’s Walt in liquid form. Absolutely disgusting and annoying and just a whole bunch of other rude (yet true) words that you cannot recall.

“Everything else is just… awful. Unless you had something in mind! I’m sorry, I’ll get you something else,” he nervously rambles, and you giggle.

“Benny, it’s perfect. I love mimosas. Thank you for this,” you say to him, reaching over to grab his hand. He smiles at you charmingly, and he rubs his thumb over your skin. You look up at him in awe, and you maintain eye contact. It’s an action you struggle with when it comes to most people. But with Benjamin and Ransom, it is simply so divine. You’ve read a novel like this before—wait, no, it was a movie.

It was something fictional, that’s for sure.

The two lovers of the media piece—the main characters—shared this exact moment. They leaned in for their kiss, just like what you’re now doing with Benjamin. Your eyes flutter shut, and a few seconds after, so do his. Your heads are tilted to the side, and you’re both careful to not leave this place with a bloody nose or swollen facial features.

It’s so damn perfect because you can swear the music has slowed down, and like the author or narrator always describes, it feels like you and your date are the only people in the room.

But then comes the rude awakening. Someone brushes past your table roughly, and they murmur out a pathetic apology. Your purse falls to the ground, and Benjamin pulls away from your face. “Shit,” he curses, trying to grab for your bag. But it’s too far for him to reach, so you simply do it yourself.

You hang onto the back of your chair as you comfortably shift your body, hooking the handle with one of your fingers and slowly pulling it back to you. You whip back to your original position, and you try to put yourself back together.

“Sorry about that,” Benjamin sheepishly expresses, scratching the back of his neck. His face is scribbled with awkwardness, and you’re almost the same. “S’fine,” you mumble out, placing your bag in your lap to avoid another mishap. “You should try your drink! Let me know what you think. If it’s good, y’know—that’s what I meant,” he stumbles out, and before he can say anything else, you’re taking a long sip from your glass.

It’s just like a prom’s fruit punch on your tongue, except with richer bubbles and a sort of complexity to it. You’re not sure how to feel about it at first, but when you continue to sip on it, you realize that you love it. Not to the point where you’ll order another, though. “So…?” Benjamin questions, bringing the brown bottle to his lips. Almost begrudgingly pulling the straw out of your mouth, you smile.

“It’s really good, Benny. Thank you so much,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear, feeling a pair of eyes on you. It must be from a jealous somebody, envying you for being on a date with such a perfect man. Who wouldn’t? Benjamin is flawless. “Heh, I’m glad,” he shyly admits, and you both continue to sip on your beverages until someone decides to say something.

You stir your drink with your black straw despite it already being mixed well. It’s a nervous tick, one that you use to make you look busy to avoid sitting in a painful silence. Ransom knows this so well—he knows every bit about you.

He even knows just how trusting and naive you can be. It’s sickeningly sweet to him, an aspect of you that he wants to say should go untouched by he can’t. You’re begging to be ruined by him, whether you realize that or not. Soft lips dragged between your teeth, puppy dog eyes reserved just for Ransom, and your sweet voice just humming delightfully in his ear. He wants to keep you all to himself, far away from the worst parts of life.

Though, he won’t keep you safe from himself. He’ll hunt you down and ruin you, knowing that you'll never be able to stop him.

In the darkness of the club, he stands solemnly. Women have come up to him and asked for all kinds of sexual favours and returns, but he’s rejected them all brutally. It’s something he’s been doing for a while now, ever since he's met you. The thought of being with someone who isn’t his bunny makes him sick with both disgust and remorse.

But when someone who had no interest in sleeping with him comes up to him, he can’t resist them. Especially when they've got an offer that’s just oh so enticing.

The strange man waves a small vial of clear liquid in front of Ransom’s face, negotiating a low price of $65, mere pocket change for the Drysdale. He’s never thrown cash and something so quick in his life. He gets anything he wants and even gets things he doesn’t ask for. He wasn’t just born into a wealthy family; he was born into the universe’s luck.

The near-kiss is something he can’t stand to think about, but he has to thank it. You’re easily distracted—pulled away by anyone who demands even the slightest bit of your attention. When Benjamin has you captured with his eyes like a net, Ransom–the predator—swoops in. He first lays down the interruption, pushing someone gently so that their flying hands hit your purse.

Ransom sinks his claws into his prey when you and your lousy date both look away, letting him perform his virtuous act so that the audience can curse him for being a fool. …No, they’re not throwing tomatoes… They’re cheering and clapping and even shedding a stupid tear or two. It’s the part they’ve been waiting for, the one where the best friend finally gets the girl.

He sits in his car, the one you love so dearly. Whenever he offers to pick you up from wherever you are, you always ask if he’s going to take the Beemer. Sometimes, he lies and leaves it for a surprise. Other times, however, he makes you grovel and beg him even though the key is already in the ignition.

It’s the perfect angle because he’s just so damn smart. Ransom’s years at Columbia have certainly paid off, despite what his parents may believe. He’s able to look at you through the large window that you and your date sit next to, despite the few lingering and wild bodies that frame the scene. Your best friend fidgets with his ring, occasionally pulling it off and putting it back on.

Underneath Ransom’s sweater is his well-built abdomen, and beneath all that muscle and seemingly perfect skin is his stomach. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but he isn’t really sitting still right now. You once ran your fingers very lightly along the back of his neck, and he nearly fell with how high he jumped. You questioned, what’s wrong, Ransom? And it was then when he told you that you’ve managed to find his sole ticklish spot.

On the occasion when he’s quite bothersome, you run your fingers along that area in a similar manner. Right now, it feels as though your hands are in his body and doing the exact same thing over and over again. You’ve encaptured him everywhere—body, mind, and soul.

Almost, just almost, in contrast, you’re writhing in uncomfortableness too. A cramp claims you and squeezes tightly at your tummy, one that is different from the many kinds you’ve felt. You slouch down just a bit in your chair, but not enough for your date to think rudely about you. When you clasp your hands together, you realize that they’re hot and sweaty. And no matter how many times you rub them on your dress, the dampness never leaves.

You’ve heard of this kind of thing before. From your mother, who was informed by your aunt, who your cousin had confided in the week after the Fourth of July. Nothing bad really happened, excluding the sick feeling she had for a few days and the neverending exhaustion. She never told you anything beyond that, but you know she called a friend, one that she trusts very dearly, and begged for their help.

And it’s what you decide to do.

“S’cuse me,” you mumble, grabbing your bag and abruptly standing up. As Benjamin—ostensibly charming Benny—stares at you with worry, you warily look at your drink. There’s a drop of juice left at the button, and you can feel dizziness consuming you almost entirely.

When you push your way through rich art majors and others alike, you still keep your manners. Such a sweet little thing you are. You try your best to find an exit, but it’s as if you’re trapped in—as if this is some elaborate plan. Before you can even go into a panicked frenzy, your phone lights up.

It’s a stupid notification that you’d usually get upset over, but you’re now thanking it for being a reminder. You make quick work in calling your dearest friend, the one you should’ve listened to earlier today.

He picks up on the third ring, even though he could answer at any time, and you’d still be oblivious to what he’s done. You’re a smart one, but you can be so fucking dumb sometimes. No, most times.

“Hey, bunny! How’s the date?” Ransom cheers, even though he doesn’t give a fuck about your stupid date. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He says the same thing about anything he doesn’t like, which is almost everything. “R- Ransom? I need your help, p- please,” you break down into sobs that make his heart clench.

“What’s wrong, bunny? What happened?” he questions, and he purposely starts up his car as loud as he can. The engine is loud, but he knows it’ll bring you comfort. “I- I think he put somethin’ in my drink. I feel so weird, Ransom. …Am I gonna die?” you whimper to him, and he soothingly shushes you.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you, okay?. I’m on my way,” Ransom says, and he’s already turned his Beemer off. “T- Thank you, thank you so much, Ransom,” you tell him, and he smiles even though you can’t see him. He can see you, though. “I should’ve listened to you. “M so sorry,” you sniffle, and you suddenly feel a wave of euphoria crashing in your body.

The gasp you let out is so lewd, and it goes straight to Ransom’s cock. He’s already hard because you just have that effect on him, even though you don’t realize that. “What happened, bunny? C’mon, talk to me. You’re making me worried,” he urges, desperate to hear you say something scandalous. Oh, Ransom, my pussy is so wet… And it’s so sensitive.

But you, so pure and untried, have no idea what’s happening.

“S’weird, Ransom. Please hurry,” you plead, leaning against a wall. Your hips remain jutted out, and so does your bottom lip. Heat fills your body, and you’re covered in a thin yet slowly building sheen of sweat. It’s only February, and you can remember the windshield warning in the weather app. Why are you so hot right now?

The back of your hand wipes at your forehead, dabbing it lightly and checking to see if you’ve suddenly developed a fever. You don’t exactly feel ill… You just feel odd. It’s like a feeling you find yourself having at least once or twice a week (that you chalk up to being nothing despite your soaking panties), but it’s coming in tenfold. Your breaths are laboured, and your chest rises and falls as if you’ve just run a marathon.

“Bunny? Oh my God, c’mere,” Ransom’s voice softly says, breaking your scared and confused daze. You throw your body at him immediately, wrapping your arms around him as if you haven’t seen your friend in years. “Oh, Ransom,” you sob, and his hands move to your waist. His touch is like electricity, and you nearly squeal when you feel his palms against your body.

Right near Ransom’s ear, you let out a shaky sigh. The caress he gives you goes straight to your core, and you can feel your button throbbing. “Let’s go, okay? Just hold onto me,” he ushers before gently dragging you out of the club. In contrast to your friend’s steps, yours are short and wobbly. You have barely any balance in your heels. One hand of his goes to your waist so that he can keep you steady.

It’s not like you’re dizzy anymore. No, ever since Ransom arrived and pressed himself close to you, you’ve felt a bit better. Except the sopping wetness in your core hasn’t ceased, and you don’t know what to do. But you can trust Ransom! He’s your best friend; he’d never judge you. He loves you so dearly, and that’s why he’s helping you out. You just need to be honest with the one man who’s only ever been kind to you.

When he opens up the car door, you squeeze his shoulders. He’s so strong and so big. You’re sure he can hurt anyone, but he’d never hurt you. “R- Ransom,” you mumble as he buckles your seatbelt for you. He makes sure it’s not too tight yet not too loose, and he looks down at you with raised eyebrows. It’s your queue to speak, but you find yourself speechless.

Your eyes rake his flawless face. Each part of him has been perfected by the angels themselves. No wonder he indulges in so many naughty things! You can remember the day you caught him with another woman in bed, and you never bothered asking for her name. He called her baby, and he told her to fuck off as soon as you shut the door with a slam. You hate slamming doors.

Some whining about sucking something for him so that he can finish off another thing was followed up, but you were too embarrassed to stick around and listen.

“Talk to me, bunny,” he urges, waiting for you to cry out in fear. Your gaze falls to his plump lips. They remind you of the petals of some flowers. Maybe roses. Linda doesn’t like roses, so she tells the gardener to never consider planting them. Linda also doesn’t like her only son, but you do.

Wait, you do? You do! Why wouldn’t you? He’s Ransom fucking Drysdale, and he’s only kind to you.

“Wanna…” you trail off before placing your hands on each of his thighs. He’s so well-built, so well-sculptured. “What’s wrong?” he questions once more, leaning further down to you. You keep your eyes trained on his lips, and they’re so kissable. You don’t even know how to lock yours with his, but the idea is so damn nice. “Kiss me?” you request, and you wait for him to slam the door in your face.

It doesn’t happen. No, instead, he swears, and the lewd word should make you slap him on the arm (playfully), but it doesn’t. It gives you hope. “We gotta get you home, bunny,” Ransom whispers, and before he can close the door, you pout at him. “But I want a kiss! Please? Like the ones you give all those girls,” you reason, and you squeeze his thighs.

“When we go home, okay? I’ll give you all the kisses at home, bunny,” he promises, and he smiles when you pull away from him and clap your hands in rejoice.

The drive is so long it almost hurts. In the darkness and down the streets, you only see the lights that are blurred from the speed. It’s not high, but it’s teetering towards the limit. But there’s no one else on the roads, and Ransom likes to live on the edge.

The entire way, you have your legs parted. You’ve begged him to roll the window down, but he won’t allow it. He says something about it being too dangerous and knowing that you’ll want to do something rebellious. Usually, you just stick your out of the open glass until you’re tired.

“You need to listen to me, bunny. When I tell you something isn’t right, it isn’t right,” Ransom tells you, and you want to roll your eyes. “Are you listening to me?” he questions, and he sounds just like his grandfather. You hum as you look out the window and try to ignore your aching body’s cries for some time of help. “Bunny?” Ransom calls once more, and you hum again.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growls suddenly, grabbing your face with his hand. The coolness of his ring is pleasant, but his skin against yours is so much better. Your friend holds your chin, and the car comes to a halt. In a pathetic attempt, you try to look out the windshield to know where he’s taken you. But you can see the familiar trees and the extremely large house in your peripheral view.

“You need to listen to me, bunny. You don’t know the things I know,” he warns, and you dumbly nod your head. Your blinks are slow, and there’s just something about Ransom’s demanding tone that just makes you feel so tender in your core. If your lips weren’t squished right now, you’d be biting them until they ache. “Okay, Ransom,” you squeak out when he raises his eyebrow.

“Good girl,” he whispers delightfully, and you let out a whine. “Ransom—feels so tingly!” you whimper out once he pulls his hand away from your face. His eyebrows furrow, and you squeeze your thighs together, sighing when you feel a moment of mitigation.

“What feels tingly, bunny?” Ransom inquires, and he involuntarily places his hand on your upper thigh.

“R- Right there!” you squeak out, both nervous and on edge for entirely different reasons. “Oh… Poor bunny. I think I know what that fucker did. There’s this popular drug—it’s pretty new, I think. Anyways, it makes you feel some things, and it makes you really sensitive. That’s what’s happening to you, right?” Ransom questions as he moves his palm up and down your leg.

It’s so hard to think straight with him so close to you and something enchanting in your system. You wish you could say it’s not very pleasant, but it’s absolutely divine.

Everything Ransom says goes unlistened, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “I’ll take you inside, bunny,” he eventually says, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind him. The few seconds without him are painful, and you find yourself needing him near you so badly.

Ransom opens your door, and he scoops you up in his arms with ease. The action is so simple and mundane, yet it makes you nuzzle your face against his grey sweater.

“Shit, I can smell that sweet little pussy,” Ransom grumbles, and you look up at him. “Hm?” you hum, and he simply ignores you. His house is a home for you as you’ve spent most days in a year here. Despite your neverending whines, he still hasn’t put any curtains up. It’s one of his few flaws—that’s what you tell yourself. Ransom has almost no imperfections, and he could do no wrong.

“Just stay here, okay?” he orders as he lays you onto his off-white couch. When he pulls his hands away from your body, you immediately try to stand up. “No, no, no, bunny. Stay put,” Ransom demands, and you shake your head. “Don’t leave me, please,” you beg, holding onto Ransom’s sleeve. He sighs before placing his hands on his hips.

He stands just like a worried father, and usually, you’d tease him over it. “I won’t leave, bunny. But I need to get you some help. I’m gonna go call Marta. I don’t know if you’re safe or not.” Ransom’s words are heavy and more serious than he’s ever been. Yet, you still keep pulling him towards you. “Hey, I’ll give you those kisses you wanted,” he proposes, and even though he drives a hard bargain, you just won’t let him go.

You want to get some help, yes, but Ransom is all you need right now. In your eyes, he’s the remedy that’ll fix your issue.

“But Ransom! I need you with me,” you reason, plopping onto the couch and yanking at him as hard as you can. He, all muscle and strength, does not move. “Why, bunny? I’m right here! I’m gonna make it all better. I just need to call Marta,” Ransom tells you as he goes to peel your hands off of him. His index and middle finger expertly remove your weak grip. God, you’ve seen those digits be directed at so many people so many times.

He moves further from you with his arms leaving you as well. You’re worried that if you don’t feel the even featherlight touch of his breath, you might go insane. You believe that to wake up tomorrow morning without regret in your mind, you need Ransom. Swallowing thickly, you try your best to find words and articulated sentences in your blurry mind.

All that comes up, though, is the urge to shed your clothes as if they’re some sort of obnoxious second-skin.

You shoot up and rush after Ransom, calling out his name as you watch him pick up the landline. It’s got a coiled wire and looks like something from an Old Hollywood movie. Ransom had bought it when you expressed your love for those kinds of phones, and he lets you play with it until the clicking pisses him off.

“You’re gonna be okay, bunny. I promise. Just gonna get you some help,” Ransom grunts out, dialling the friendly nurse’s number. You’re stubborn on the occasion, but it’s never been this bad. Is it the gracious vial that’s blessing him right now? Ransom’s karma never catches him because he believes he’s never done a bad thing in his life. Sometimes, he just has to do what he needs to do.

“No, Ransom! I need you!” you suddenly screech out, balling up your sweaty hands by your side.

With the press of a button, Ransom deletes the call he was about to make.

“I- I feel all weird and tingly and sweaty, and whenever you touch me, it gets better, Ransom! Can’t you just take care of me? Please, Ransom, please help me,” you continue, and Ransom fights back the utmost tempting smirk. He hangs up the phone with a click, and he begins to move closer to you. Your friend resembles an animal—one that’s finally managed to have his prey near him. It’s just a few steps away from him.

Despite the almost horridness of the way he moves, you have a smile on your face. “Oh, bunny. It tingles down in your little pussy so much, doesn’t it? Yeah, I can fix that! I know you don’t have any idea what to do. You’re just really scared. It’s probably whatever your date gave you. Maybe it also makes things worse, y’know? …Did you kiss him, bunny?”

You nod along with his words, grasping at them with shaky hands but not catching everything. When his final question hits you, you shake your head. Ransom smiles, satisfied with your answer in so many similar ways. “Good girl. I’m the only one who should be touching you. See what happens when you let other guys near you? They hurt you. I’d never hurt you like they do.” he hums.

Ransom looks down at your hands, and he notices they’re shaking.

“Aw, bunny. Are you scared? Is Daddy being scary? I’m sorry. I was just trying my best to help!”

You teeter between confirming and denying his suspicions, and he frowns. It’s not faux at all—it’s completely genuine.

He must really be worried for you…

“I’ll help you out, bunny. Don’t worry! But I Googled something, and it’s kind of mandatory with your… situation,” he solemnly informs you, grabbing your shoulders. You quickly melt in his touch and try to lean into him, and he clicks his tongue in a disapproving manner. “After, bunny—don’t be so greedy. I know it won’t make any sense, but you have to do it, okay?” Ransom tells you, and you’re nodding before he can even finish speaking.

Maybe it’s because he’s so greedy, or perhaps it’s because he likes to push his luck. Ransom lives on the edge like that—his foot on the gas with hundreds of cars coming at him from different directions. It’s like a game to him—he loves fooling around. And he can’t help but do the same with you.

“Just… Run around the place, okay? Sounds so fucking stupid, but it’ll help you, bunny,” he sighs while he explains, and you’re all ready to dart as far as your feet will take you. Like he said, it’ll help you—he’ll help you. Just listen to his every word. “I- I’ll do it, Ransom! I’ll do anything for you,” you promise to your friend, and he dims the lights.

The ache behind your eyes suddenly disappears and turns into a satisfying dullness. You’ve been so caught up with your desperateness that you haven’t even noticed the other parts of your body that have been crying out for different reasons. Your pussy weeps even more than them, though, and it’s impossible to ignore. “I’m gonna catch you, okay?” Ransom tells you, and you nod your head.

Even though you’re ditzy, you still make the smart decision of dashing before he urges you once more.

You hop up the two stairs that separate the kitchen from the living room. The cold tile against your feet makes you sigh in relief, but you don’t stop to relish it. You move around the island with the sleek sink in the center. Ransom is hot on your heels, proving to you that his occasional jogs and overly-expensive treadmill haven’t gone to waste.

“Gotta move faster, bunny. Imagine if that bad man had come after you? Hm? That stupid Brandon,” Ransom questions, and he’s glad that you don’t correct him. You’ve finally put your best friend first—something you should’ve done so long ago. He doesn’t hold it against you, but it does hurt his feelings just a tad bit. How could you harm your best friend like that?

You try your hardest to figure out some sort of plan, but it’s as if Ransom lives in your mind. When you move to your left, he’s already done the same. And when you move to the right, he’s there before you. You make the motion to move to the left suddenly, but when he moves in that direction, you run in the opposite. Ransom’s fingers barely touch you as you move back into the living room.

“Clever girl,” the slightly older man praises, and it goes straight to your core. You’re in a similar situation once again, except the thing that keeps you and Ransom apart is a couch. He could easily reach over and grab you, but he loves to play with his food. He’s been scolded for it too many times, but his behaviour never changes.

You try to repeat the same method, not once shy from it. As you try to execute your plan, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist. “Just not clever enough,” Ransom whispers against your ear, his body pressed against yours. You let out a giggle that ends in a lewd gasp, feeling something hard on your ass. “I tried my best…” you whisper, turning around in his hold. But Ransom lifts you up with ease, and he carries you someplace.

Gently, you’re placed onto the carpeted ground next to his glass coffee table. It’s been pushed to the side, and you realize that Ransom has done it for you. He does so much for you… Your friend steps away from your writhing body for a few seconds, and the change of sight makes you smile. On his wall and above his fireplace is Les Amants—except with a twist.

The two lovers are quite different from their original forms. The woman resembles you, whereas the man looks like Ransom. Your faces are uncovered, and Ransom is pressing a passionate kiss to your cheek.

The painting makes you giggle, and Ransom smiles at your reaction. He places a pillow underneath your body before blocking your view again. “I knew you’d like it, bunny. Daddy does all that for you because he loves you,” Ransom whispers, and you simply nod your head. “Love you too, Ransom,” you mumble before fisting at his grey sweater.

“Of course you do,” he exhales, parting your legs and pushing them upwards. Once your knees touch your torso, Ransom closes your legs. His left hand holds your limbs at your knees, and his right hand travels to your soaked panties. “But you’ll never love me as much as I love you, bunny—no one will,” he tells you as he grabs at the ruined fabric.

It’s sticky with your arousal, and as he pulls at the fabric to rip it, he watches as a few strings of slick stretch from your cunt. You’re leaking with creaminess, dripping all the way down to your ass.

“You’re soaked, bunny… And you smell so fucking good,” Ransom groans, basking in your tangy yet sweet scent. It’s so addictive, and he just wants to eat you up. The urge to take your swollen little nub of nerves and suck in it until you see stars is quite strong. But he decides to hold off for now because his hard cock is straining against his pants, and it almost hurts.

“‘S that bad, Ransom?” you nervously ask, trying to look at him from your position. He abruptly hovers above you, smiling in reassurance and realization. “Not at all, bunny! It’s completely normal…” Ransom nervously trails off, and you pick up on his unease. “What’s wrong?’ you question, scared out of your mind.

“It’s just… You’re more wet than usual, bunny. Nothing I can’t fix, but it’ll probably take all night—maybe until tomorrow morning.”

“‘M not worried, Ransom. I know you can help me,” you tell him, reassuring both yourself and your best friend.

He stares down at you, his face suddenly all serious. Ransom’s lips are parted, and his index finger trails along your inner thigh until he’s touching your aching flesh. He watches as you bite your lip from the feeling, and he continues to move his finger through your wet folds. Bliss passes through your body at his touch, and it increases once he presses down on your clit.

Your back arches and you’re letting out breathy moans. “Do you like that, bunny? Daddy’s making you feel all better now,” Ransom hums before bringing his digit down to your drooling hole. You’re clenching around nothing but air, and the sight of your tiny hole makes Ransom groan. A rush of blood flows down to his cock as he thinks about how tight your pussy will feel around his cock.

His large cock and your small pussy prove that you were made for him and only him.

Pathetically, you nod your head at a rapid pace. Ransom chuckles, and he slowly breaches your pussy with his finger. His digit is coated in your copious amount of arousal, and it gushes out even more once he’s one-knuckle deep inside of you. “R- Ransom,” you stutter, but he quickly shushes you. The feeling of his thick finger inside of you is so foreign, but you get used to it once a few seconds pass.

“No, no. You gotta call me Daddy, bunny. Otherwise, I won’t help you,” Ransom warns, and you mumble out an apology.

“Daddy,” you whisper, and he smiles in delight. “Good girl. You’re my good girl, right, bunny? My good little girl,” Ransom hums, and he pulls his finger out of your pussy. A small ring of whiteness surrounds his finger. Ransom’s mouth waters at the sight, but he fights off his urges again. That drenched digit returns to your clit with the motive to torture you.

He slowly rubs your pearl in tight circles, and he watches as your pussy contracts from the pleasure. “O- Oh, feels so good,” you slur, bucking your hips up on your body’s own accord. As you try to chase after something, Ransom pulls his hand away for a brief second. Before you can even beg him to continue to work whatever magic he’s got at his fingertips, stinging in the most delicious way ever.

There’s a split second of friction on your clit, and neither you nor Ransom can tell if you’re moaning from the pain or the pleasure. The line between the two has blurred.

Your legs jerk to close, but Ransom doesn’t let that happen. He keeps them parted as he strikes you once more, revelling in the way you yelp the title he now wears. “Daddy!” you cry out, and your tone is a mix of need and hurt. Maybe even fear, and that makes Ransom blush wildly. Your pussy is sopping wet, and it hurts to have him not touch you.

“P- Please, feels so good,” you babble like a baby, and Ransom chuckles. “You like that, bunny? Do you like it when Daddy slaps your little pussy? You’re so desperate for it; you’re just taking anything I’m giving you.’ He shakes his head as he speaks, and he ends his sentences with light smacks to your clit. Your jaw is slacked, and every time his fingers make contact with your swollen cunt, you try to grind against his touch.

“Daddy…” you whine, and you can feel creaminess leaking down to your puckered hole. Your pussy aches for things you can’t do, but Ransom can. A bitter yet sweet scent wafts in the air—a mixture of what’s running down your intimate areas and the sweat on your skin. It’s addicting and very familiar. The only difference is that it’s so much more potent than the usual times it’s on the tip of your nose.

“Say it; tell Daddy what you like,” Ransom demands, and he pulls his hand away from your pussy. His slick-stained fingers are mesmerizing, and he works them against his leather belt. Through some difficulty, he

manages to push his boxers and pants down to his knees, and he leans over you once again. You’re wordless, as expected.

“I… I, uhm, I like it when you hurt me, Daddy—especially down there,” you mumble out, and you can’t fight the smile on your face when Ransom groans loudly.

“Fuck, bunny. Such a good girl,” he praises, and his hand returns to your pussy. He taps your creamy cunt with the tip of his middle finger, and your choked gasp turns into a loud moan when he pushes into you. It happens with ease, and the same small amount of simplicity is what he uses to find that sweet spot of yours. It’s spongy and makes you see stars when he curls his mildly chubby yet incredibly long finger.

“Oh my…” you breathe out, and Ransom’s other hand spreads your legs. He’s seen you in this position before—except the circumstances were different. You were watching him try on suits, and you laid down on his sofa in the oddest way ever. That’s you, though. You put comfort over manners, and you don’t give a damn unless you’re in public. Through your parted knees, you watched Ransom undress.

Your tight pussy clamps down on your saviour’s digit, and you feel your mildly coherent thoughts fall away. Nothingness fills your mind—Ransom knows this. “Aw, bunny. Are you already all stupid? I mean, you certainly aren’t the brightest. But I’ve only got a finger in this tiny pussy, and look at yourself—you’re a fucking goner,” he chuckles, and you helplessly whimper from his words.

“Just my little airhead, hm?”

Another digit is pushed into your sloppy pussy, but this time, it’s a bit of a struggle. Ransom scissors his ring and middle fingers inside your cunt, stretching you open as best as he can. Is it wrong of him to want it to hurt? You’re so damn pretty when you’re in pain and all teary-eyed for him. “Daddy,” you hiss as he opens your hole up for his cock a little more.

The two tips meet at your sweet spot, and before you know it, Ransom is slowly fucking his fingers in and out of you. A moan rips through you as your legs jolt with pleasure. Ransom’s hand is covered in your cream, but he doesn’t mind it at all. “Look at you, bunny. You’re soaking my fingers, and you can barely take them. Daddy’s gonna have to force his cock in there,” he says, watching as his skin glistens.

Mindlessly, you nod. Ransom is aware that you have no damn idea of what he’s talking about, and that just turns him on even more. He starts to pick up the pace, and his palm rubs against your clit. Your pathetic noises only grow louder, and they egg Ransom on. ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you prattle as your eyes roll back into your head.

“Oh, are you gonna come already, bunny? Are you gonna come with Daddy’s finger in your little pussy—in my little pussy?” Ransom questions and you just affirm his words with your pants.

A searing pressure cuts through your abdomen, and you feel so damn full with Ransom’s fingers inside of you. A sort of light sensation grabs your body—one that you’ve never felt before. The wet sounds of your pussy go straight to Ransom’s cock, and he just loves the way you’re leaking.

“Think that asshole could make you feel so good, bunny? Fuck no. Only Daddy gets to make you feel good,” he grumbles, and he starts to slow his fingers down once he recognizes the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He laughs as you begin to whine and call his title, but he ignores your pleas to not stop.

Ransom roughly pulls his fingers out of your pussy with a sounding pop, and the amount of your breathy yet garbled words is growing. He wipes his digits on your thigh, and he squeezes the sensitive inner flesh of it. Your cunt throbs even more, and Ransom watches as it rapidly clenches around nothing. Your legs shift as you writhe, but he keeps them parted.

“D- Daddy, p- please. It felt so good, it made the bad feeling go away!” you explain to him, and Ransom can swear that your voice is on the edge of breaking. “Oh, I know, bunny—but Daddy has a better way to fix it. Just listen to me, okay? Daddy knows best.” His words are reassuring, and you thank him like the good girl you are.

“Ran- Ransom, need you, please. Want somethin’,” you tell him, still trying to recover from the intense ticklish feeling between your legs. In a flash, he’s above you for the nth time. One of his strong hands is next to your head, and it holds him up, whereas the other holds your legs in their rightful position. Open for him and him only.

“It’s ‘Daddy,’ bunny. Tell Daddy what you need,” he demands, and you tilt your heads upwards. “Kiss, please,” you pant, and he smiles gently. Before you know it, his lips are locked with yours. This kiss is fervent and passionate, and it hurts. Ransom’s sharp pearly whites dig into your bottom lip, making you cry out in pain. He swallows your noise, though, and he shoves his tongue in your mouth.

Ransom was your first kiss, and he’s trained you oh so well for moments exactly like this. With him and only him.

His wet muscle explores the inside of your mouth, and Ransom can’t help but let his mind wander. You’d look absolutely divine while choking on his fat cock. Spit splattering on your skin and your nails digging into his thighs—your saviour is audibly groaning and nearly rutting against your cunt from the thought. He’d make you swallow, then he’d paint your face.

The sheet over the woman; son amant.

When the only Thrombey-Drysdale born of the family pulls away, you’re trying to catch your breath. But he quickly punches the air out of your lungs when he slaps the fat tip of his cock against your clit. You jolt, but he doesn’t let you escape from him. You only belong in his arms with his cock stuffed in your cunt.

Beads of pre-cum roll drip onto your pussy, mixing with your wetness. “Daddy’s cock is so big, bunny. I don’t think you can take it—but I’ll make you. Yeah, you’re gonna take my fucking cock like the good girl you are,” Ransom speaks lowly, and he sits back up. He’s on his knees, and he has the perfect position to fuck you in. He wants it deep and hard, and he always gets what he wants.

Ransom drags his cock down to your hole, and he covers it entirely. His cock is huge in length and width. He knows that it will hurt you, but that doesn’t matter. He’s helping you out, and he’s giving you something that you don’t know you need.

You glance up at Ransom while you strain your neck slightly. It’s one of many feelings you have right now, but it’s nothing in comparison to the tingling in your core. Your head is still spinning from the kiss, and your lips are raw due to his roughness.

His thick cock is coated in your creaminess, and his veins throb with want. He’s a raging red shade all over, and his member is nearly purple. Ransom prods his bulbous head at your drooling hole, and he loves the way you shiver from his action.

“I haven’t even fucked you yet, and look, you’re all teary-eyed and braindead. No thoughts, huh? S’okay, Daddy’ll do all the thinking for you.”

Ransom’s words distract you briefly, which doesn’t entirely surprise him. But the fact that you can mildly understand what he’s saying through your foggy haze has his smile faltering a bit. Amid his diversion, Ransom pushes the fat head of his cock into your cunt. He breaches into you roughly and stretches you open widely.

Your jaw slacks in a silent scream that isn’t quite silent. Your gasps are choked, and you’re whimpering from the pain and pleasure of his cock. “Oh, I know, bunny. Daddy’s just too big for your tiny little hole,” he coos, but his sympathy turns into annoyance when you try to reach down and push him. His hand leaves your legs, and they stay parted. Your obedience comes with such ease that it makes him kick himself for not acting on his love for you.

“No, stop that. Stay still for Daddy, bunny. I don’t wanna have to get all mean on you…”

His warning is something you don’t take lightly, and before Ransom knows it, you’re sputtering out an apology.

“‘M sorry, Daddy! It hurts… Please don’t be mad,” you babble, and he grins. ‘It’s okay, bunny. Just let Daddy do what he needs to do.”

As soon as he’s done speaking, Ransom fully sheathes his cock inside of you. It’s almost as if his fingers did nothing except lure you to the edge. He waits to hear you cry out in pain, but you simply bite down on your lip until the skin breaks and crimson starts to drip. When you release your pout, you let out a moan that no pornstar can rival. It goes straight to his cock and motivates Ransom to really let go and help his little bunny.

His heavy balls are snug against your sticky ass, and his cock nudges against your sweet spot. You can barely breathe properly, but you don’t care. “Feels so good, daddy,” you mumble out pathetically. “I know, bunny. This little fuckhole is just gripping Daddy’s cock. You love my cock, don’t you? Yeah, you do,” he groans, and he waits for you to answer.

But you’re so fucked out, so damn stupid. You don’t even realize he’s asking you a question. It’s a miracle you’ve made it in life without your best friend.

“Did Daddy’s dick fuck the manners out of you, bunny? When I ask you something, you always answer. I said, you love my cock, don’t you?” he spits through gritted teeth, and you’re quickly nodding. “Yeah, you do. My good little slut. So desperate to get fucked but can barely handle it.”

You nod again, and suddenly he’s pulling out of you. Before you can even weep your miserable cries, Ransom pushes back into you and begins to use your cunt like it’s a fleshlight.

He fucks into your channel relentlessly, skin slapping against skin while strings of your cream stretch from his member to your pussy. You’re stretched past your limit, leaking so much that whenever he slides in and out of you, there’s a loud squelching sound that nearly mutes your moans.

“Yeah, take it, bunny. Take Daddy’s cock like the good girl you are,” Ransom grumbles, holding onto your hips as leverage. You’re mewling his title and nodding continuously, and he just knows that he’s fucked every thought of yours out of your mind. He bets that you don’t even know your name at this point.

“Fuck– You’re drooling,” he notes in practical disbelief. Saliva trickles past the side of your mouth and onto your cheek. You don’t even realize it until he’s pointed it out. But even then, you don’t care. You simply focus on the pressure in your stomach that’s building up again and the way Ransom’s cock drives in and out of you. His thrusts are brutal and quick, almost as if he’s working at an inhumane pace.

“You’re fucking drooling… God, you can barely handle my fat cock. I’m turning you into a silly little mess, bunny. You’re so cute when you’re thinking with nothing but this creamy pussy.”

Ransom ruts into you like a starved animal—like the big bad wolf he is. Each thrust forces a choked-out moan that seems to prolong until the next one interrupts. “Daddy– Feels weird,” you call out, and he smirks. A fire that is a vibrant blue lights itself inside your tummy and in your pussy. It builds up quickly—especially when Ransom’s cock pounds against your sweet spot.

“I know, bunny. I don’t care, though. You just gotta take Daddy’s cock and beg him to let you come,” he tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “D- Dunno how,” you mumble out, and Ransom smirks. “I would tell you to use your brain, but it’s empty, bunny. I know it is. You’re just thinking about my cock like the fucking slut you are. It’s okay, Daddy’ll teach you. All you have to say is Can I come, Daddy?.”

His instructions are simple, but it takes a few seconds for you to comprehend them.

“Oh– C– Can I come, Daddy? P- Pretty please?” you beg, and your high is just a few seconds away. “Good girl, good fucking girl,” Ransom praises, and he stills his thrusts with his cock deep inside your guts. He grinds into you, his patch of growing-pubic hair rubbing against your clit. It sends you over the edge, and you’re panting his name in a loud cry.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your pussy clamps around Ransom’s dick. Your cream coats him and leaves him shining even more, especially at the base. There’s a ring of white stickiness there, and it’s all from your pussy. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” you squeal out, toes curling and legs shaking. Ransom begins to fuck you with that same vigour before, not willing to wait for you to ride out your orgasm. He wants to make you come again and again, until sobbing and on the verge of passing out.

Even then, he won’t stop.

Your heart patters at a hectic pace, and your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your powerful orgasm. The amount of writhing your body does isn’t enough to get Ransom to go easy on your pussy. His pounding is relentless despite the even tighter grip you have on his cock.

He shushes your cries, but his sounds don’t work. How can they? Your body is alight with pleasure, and the look on your face is a silent beg for more. “Look at you, trying to run away from Daddy even though this cunt is crying for me, bunny,” Ransom chuckles, and he grips your hips even tighter. “It’s pathetic, but you’re lucky Daddy loves pathetic little girls like you,” he husks, and the moan you let out is bound to strain your vocal cords.

“Aw, are you gonna come again? Already? You’re so sensitive, bunny. Daddy’s gonna have so much fun with you.”

His fun entails so many things that he knows you’re going to enjoy, whether you’re blissed out of your mind or completely level-headed.

The extremely thin and delicate rubber band in your stomach starts to bend and twist at a rapid pace. It’s quicker than Ransom’s thrusts that you find yourself loving. You love every aspect of him, the good and the bad. “‘M gonna come, Daddy. It feels so good,” you slur, and there’s a faint smile on your face. Ransom mimics it, but his is so much wider and almost villainous. But he’s your hero; he could do no wrong.

“I know, bunny. Daddy just makes you feel so good. C’mon, cream all over my cock like the good girl you are. Do it,” he demands, and because your body simply belongs to him (as do you), you come undone on his command. Your back arches off the carpet, and your tits are pushed forward. Ransom is tempted to take your hardened peaks into his mouth and suck on them, but he’s too enraptured by the look on your face and the sight of your pussy to do so.

His throbbing cock fucks you through your second orgasm of the night, and definitely not the last. There’s a tinge of blood on it, and it only makes him harder. The feeling of him growing thicker inside of you is marvellous, but it takes you by surprise. You gasp loudly as your nails dig into the first layer of your skin. You’re sobbing, but your eyes are missing the tears.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you’re coming on my cock, bunny,” Ransom swears, and he notices the puddle of creaminess at the base of his cock. The reddish-brown colour blends so well with your cum that Ransom just knows you’re meant to be like this, impaled and squirming beneath him. Your cum drips down to his heavy balls that slam against your ass every time he fucks back into you.

Darkness nearly fills your vision as your climax hits you harder than ever. Your two orgasms are blended together, and the pleasure doesn’t seem to have an end. Your walls flutter around your saviour’s thick girth, and they’re just begging him to fill you up. “Daddy…” you whisper, and you notice his thrusts are growing to be more sloppy and short. Ransom uses your pussy like you’re his favourite toy or perhaps even his right fist. He tosses his head back and ignores the way you’re telling him that it’s too much. You don’t know what you’re talking about—Ransom knows what’s best. You shouldn’t be questioning anything he’s doing, especially not when he’s doing the kind thing of helping you out.

“Daddy’s gonna come, bunny. I’m gonna fill up this pussy ‘til you're leaking with my cum for days,” Ransom grunts, and the thought of your panties being stained with his seed sends him tumbling towards his climax. With a guttural moan, he slams into you and makes you yelp. “Fuck, bunny,” he groans deeply, his voice more baritone than it usually is.

As his balls clench, ropes of cum spill inside of your cunt and paint your insides. He’s fantasized about this the day he saw you for the very first time. His big figure slumps over you just a tad bit, but he still holds himself up with his incredible strength. He’s never come this hard before—that’s the effect you have on him. You let out a whimper as you feel Ransom’s cum flood your inner walls.

“Daddy,” you mewl, tired out of your mind yet still aching for more. As promised, he’s helped you out. How could you ever thank him? You certainly don’t have enough money to satisfy him, but you do have that honey pot between your legs and your mere presence to do the fulfilling for you. Anything he wants, anything he needs, you’ll give to him. And vice versa.

“Good girl—such a good girl for letting Daddy use your pussy,” he praises, and you preen.

Almost begrudgingly, Ransom slowly drags his large girth out of your freshly-ruined pussy. You cry out loudly and call his title before saying his name. He ignores you, though, and simply focuses on your messy cunt. As his cum begins to trickle out of you, Ransom watches as your pussy gapes from the stretch of his fat cock. You’re soaked in milky fluids, and the sight has his tongue darting out and swiping along his bottom lip.

“Look at that leaky little cunt. Cream-filled, huh? Think Daddy can have his cake and eat it, too?”