warnings: None. Power exchange. Consensual D/s dynamic. Reader is a service submissive.
Serviced with a ruby smile
You were quite proud of yourself for keeping cool and not showing nervousness as Ransom walked into your apartment for the first time. However, the bubble of pretended calm burst when he turned to you and tutted.
“Leaf, Leaf, Leaf.” His blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “What rules did we make for this evening?”
You blinked at him, confused.
You wanted to invite Ransom over for a while now, but it was actually him who asked for that. As it turned out, he suspected your need to serve was shaking strong, eager to make the best impression on him, but you also feared you would fail, so you postponed asking. Ransom took that step for you.
But he set the rules.
You had to either order something in or pick a dish that was easy and quick to make. Under no circumstances were you allowed to spend hours cooking who knows what impressive meal. Yeah, if not for that rule, you’d probably stress for a week just thinking up the menu and then perfecting it.
“I haven't cooked anything yet.” You assured him. “I’m going to make us a carbonara. And I bought desserts, they’re in the fridge.”
“Good,” Ransom nodded in approval. “But there was another rule.”
He reached for your hand, gently lifting it up. His lips brushed along the pads of your fingers, before his hold shifted and he was encircling your wrist.
“If you wanted to clean, you were supposed to just do the basics. Unless you’re truly a neat freak-” he paused, pressing his thumb against the pulse point in your wrist- “you’ve broken that rule and spent hours deep cleaning everything. The place is too spotless.”
You gulped.
Your pulse certainly skipped, a telling sign trapped right under Ransom’s thumb.
When he looked around your apartment, you thought Ransom was simply curiously taking everything in. A part of you even worried he might be judging it, since it was nowhere near the status of the mansion he owned. You didn’t consider he might be studying with the sole intent of checking if you didn’t overwork yourself.
“Did you scrub the whole place?” Ransom asked directly.
You weren’t skilled in lying, or averting.
“A little,” you squeaked, dropping your gaze.
“Leaf.” Ransom’s other hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up. “I’m honored you would go to such an extent to please me, even though it wasn’t needed. However, we agreed to that rule and you broke it.”
“Now-” his smile was both comforting and implying trouble- “how about you start on that carbonara. And I’ll pour us some wine and think of the punishment for you.”
Made up fic title: What Once Was Lost is Always Found
Ohhhh, Kris. You’ve really got me in the feels with this one🥺. So angsty, but so hopeful? This one’s for all my millennials/divorcees🫡 (gosh, I can’t tell you how much I love this tho. She’s a lil long)
Based off of this ask game
What Once Was Lost is Always Found
Ari Levinson x divorced!Reader
You huffed as your mom shoved the silverware into your hands, shooing you out of the kitchen to set the table, as she finished up dinner.
Upon her return from the grocery store, she pulled you up off the floor where you were wearing your threadbare college hoodie, looking through old photos, insisting you put on ‘normal people clothes.’
The last time you had been in your childhood room this long was before you had even gotten your degree, followed quickly by a job, a wedding, then a cat. And then after building that life for years and watching it crumble before your eyes, a divorce. With nothing else left for you there, you went to the one place you were always safe: home, bringing the cat, of course. Everything just needed to stop for a little bit.
You set the utensils down on the placemats and brought the extras back to put in the drawer when she stopped you.
“No, I gave those on purpose. Make a fourth place setting. We’re going to have company for dinner.”
You looked at her with a furrowed brow, an expression she knew all too well, as you went to the cupboard to grab the plates.
“Mom, I really don’t want anyone seeing me like this right now. Can’t you and Dad just go out to dinner with your friends like normal people?”
She laughed and shook her head, checking the oven before slipping off the mitts and using them to point at you.
“At least we have friends, missy. You’ve gotta get yourself out there. Can’t hide in your room forever.”
As she turned back to the stove, you heard her mutter in that low voice she always used when she was up to no good. “And you could use the social interaction, I’m sure.”
You rolled your eyes and continued laying out the dishes while your mom debriefed you about her day.
“And you won’t believe who I ran into at the super market today!”
“Who?” Your voice fell flat.
She turned to look at you, her eyes sparkling with something that you couldn’t quite decipher. Excitement? Nostalgia? And a slight wariness to your possible response?
“None other than Ari Levinson. I always liked that boy, you know. Turned into a good man. Shame it seems like he could never quite find the right girl around here after you left. And believe me, he tried. All those young women he went out with tried even harder.”
You sighed, burying your head in your arms against the kitchen island at her mention of your high school sweetheart. The one you had left behind before going to college. The one you’d always had a little spot for in your heart. But he stayed home and you had a career to make for yourself. And by the time school had come and gone, you were engaged and had heard he’d been dating. Waiting around at that age didn’t seem practical, especially when he so willingly had given you the space you asked for, and seemingly moved on. That was a good thing, right? Taking time apart gave you an answer: if he was yours, he’d come back to you, but he didn’t. Last you heard, every girl on this side of the river was pining for him. And who wouldn’t? He was a good looking, great guy. No chance he’d want to try again with the girl that chose a new life over him.
You worked in silence, straightening out the place settings when the doorbell rang. As your mom worked on bringing the food out to the table, you trudged to the front door, preparing for the onslaught of questions and hugs from a family friend. Except when the door swung open, your eyes were met with a firm chest. You followed it upwards to a soft smile and shining eyes, framed by a full beard and luscious locks of hair. Even more heart throbbing than you remembered. In his hand sat a pie, one that you’d know by smell anywhere, from your favorite diner in town where you’d share a slice almost weekly. Your jaw was dropped, throat dry, as you stood stiffly, blocking the doorway. But in Ari fashion, his demeanor was welcoming, smooth, calming, as he spoke to you in a voice that sounded like home.
Chelsea! I'm so excited for your ask games this weekend!!
Since you know what a sad girl mood I'm in right now, for a drabble prompt, I'm asking for something soft with Curtis + cooking. 💜💜💜
okay, so I love Curtis taking care of you! Because we know he knows just how much to actually do without being over bearing, (unlike some people *cough* Steve *cough). 🤭 I really hope this helps cheer you up!
For this I see Curtis as being a personal chef in his everyday life. So of course, most of the at-home cooking falls to you. He’s just sick of it by the time he gets home.
Except, today.
He comes home seeing you curled up on the couch, pouting at the television. He takes you in, silently watching as you groan when you move to get more comfortable. He comes to crouch in front of you and gently strokes your hair from your face.
”What’s wrong, sweet girl?” His voice is low, the lines around his eyes give away the worry, even though he’s trying to hide it.
You puff out your cheeks and chew on your lower lip. “I’m so tired, and just bleh.”
His brows pull together, and you can see his brain trying to work through what exactly it is that’s bothering you. You open your mouth to say more, but before you can he’s nodding to himself and rising.
“What? Curtis?” You reach for him as he makes his way down the hall to your shared room. Your pout turns into a full-blown frown. You really just wanted cuddles on the couch!
When he comes back down the hall, he walks straight past your living room and into the kitchen. Now you were just confused. You pull the blanket off you, to follow him when his voice from the kitchen shocks you back to your place.
“Stay there.” You hum your acknowledgement, a little put out by his tone. What on earth is he doing? You know there’s no use in pushing, especially when Curtis gets in a mood.
Well that makes two of us.
You flip through your streaming services, you’re bored now. There’s nothing new. And if there is, it looks stupid. Your eyes keep darting to the kitchen, as you can hear him doing something in there. You try to subtly angle yourself, and hear him tsk at you. You roll your eyes and decide to put on your comfort TV show. You’d seen it at least a million times, but there was something about knowing what was coming.
After another thirty minutes, Curtis emerged from your cramped kitchen, his hands full. He had made a full spread, steak, roast potatoes, mixed veggies and salad too. And it wasn’t just thrown together. You could see the care in each detail, how everything on the plate was placed perfectly.
His other hand held a glass of wine, likely perfectly paired to the meal he had prepared.
”Curtis, why?” You could feel the tears building in your eyes as he placed both in front of you on the table.
Before answering he went back to the kitchen to grab his own plate, just as lovingly put together as your own. He rolled his eyes as he sat beside you. “Because, sweet girl. I know you’re not yourself, why would I make you do more when I can do it?”
”But you hate, and I mean that with a capital H, hate, cooking at home.” You wanted to reach for the food, it smelled so good.
He rolled his eyes again, “Just because I don’t want to do it every day, when I’ve been cooking for pretentious snobs all day, doesn’t mean I don’t wanna take care of you.”
The tears that had gathered earlier, finally let loose and you found yourself crying into his chest. “Thank you.” The words spoken earnestly, barely above a whisper, but the way he gripped you tighter, you knew he heard you.
”C’mon, eat before it gets cold.” He urged you towards your plate, and as if on cue your stomach let loose a monstrous grumble that had heat gathering in your cheeks.
You moaned as the rich flavours hit your tongue on the first bite, and Curtis relaxed slightly beside you digging into his own plate. You both ate in silence for a few moments before Curtis finally spoke up. “What the hell are we watching?”
You weren’t sure if it was the abruptness of his question or his tone, but you found yourself full on belly laughing. The look of disgust on his face just sealed it for you as you dissolved into full on giggles unable to get the words out. His expression shifted from disgust, to the smallest smile tugging at his lips, to a chuckle of his own.
When you finally recovered, you gave him your best puppy dog eyes, until he was sighing and pulling you into his side. “Fine, just eat, and we’ll watch…this disturbingly graphic medical show.”
You bounced in your seat and happily ate your fill, completely unaware of the sweet smile that spread across Curtis’ face. So proud of the joy he was able to bring you.
This one sounds like a fun angsty one! Thanks for playing, Kris! 💜
“You don’t have friends, Ransom,” you bite, stuffing your jacket in your bag and grabbing for your jewelry case.
“I have you,” he replies, picking up your phone before you can and holding it above his head.
You huff a frustrated breath and march to the bathroom, gathering your toiletries in their bag and taking a look at yourself in the mirror. A minute passes as you stare, wondering what he means, what you’ve done, how much more hurt you can take.
“C’mon,” he pleads, stepping into view to lean on the doorway, voice dropping to a solemn tone, “please don’t leave me.”
✨Send me a character/pairing and a title to get five lines of an imaginary fic✨
What guides me is written in starlight; what keeps me is lunar.
28 Days of Love Quotes- Day 6
Fic Title: You'd Be Like Heaven to Touch
Writer: @krirebr
Pairing: Dark!Ghost!Andy Barber x reader
Quote: He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he wanted. You placed one hand on the inside of your knee, slowly moving it up your thigh. With your other hand, you grasped your breast through the nightie, tweaking the nipple with one finger. You let out a little gasp and he visibly swallowed. The hand on your leg rose higher, but you didn’t rush it. You were taking your time, letting yourself feel. That was what he wanted.
One of the best ghost fics I've read!!! Andy will make such a haunting dead man! And the fact that he took over her dreams?!?! Absolutely mind bogglingly delicious
KRIS. When I tell you I would be his queen in a second, I wouldn't hesitate. I might pretend to be miffed. For a moment.
"I have to marry King Arthur? Oh, no!"
I'll wear nothing but a tiara while he makes me ride him on this throne.
Dropping in to pay you back with your own round of FMK. That's right, it's Fanta, Mountain Dew, and Kool-Aid! 🤣🤣 So which toxic soft drink are you sharing with
Bucky Barnes
Jake Jensen
Jonathan Pine
Bonus points if you can give us specific flavors 😘
Oooo! I can't remember the last time I had Fanta or Kool-aid so I've gotta think about those two for Barnes and Pine.
Because, let's face it, Mountain Dew with Jake just makes sense. It's "gamer fuel"! I like plain Dew best and would happily share some with my cute gamer.
I'm gonna cheat a little here and use Orange Fanta and mix it with vodka to make Creamsicles to share with Jonathan. I don't think he's ever tried one before but he's the type to be a good sport and, at least, try it for me.
He's also actually susceptible to the alcohol, unlike Bucky, so it could lead to some fun.
I'd have to share blue raspberry Kool-aid with Bucky. Why? Because when I say, "this tastes like blue" I want him to have some frame of reference. He's a little out of touch on contemporary food stuffs and flavors and "blue" is definitely one of them!
Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Ransom yanks on the silk scarf.
It's tied around your neck, quite tightly, while he holds the end wrapped around his hand. A leash with which he reins you in whenever you attempt to scramble away from his hard thrusts.
If your ass and thighs weren't burning from the few spanks he delivered earlier, they would from the constant, rapid slapping of his thighs against your backside.
"Be a good pet." Ransom tugs on the scarf, forcing you to lift your head and arch your back. "Stay in place and take my cock."
"That's it," he praises when your pussy clenches around him, "show me gratitude for that pretty, expensive ring."
"Our families think you got that engagement ring because you're a perfect match. A successful, smart woman from a proper family. But it's on your finger because you're going to be my good pet."
He shortens the leash, wrapping more of the scarf around his hand. It doesn't fully cut off your airflow, but constricts your throat enough that you choke. And with it, your whole body tenses.
