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If You Love Me, Let Me Hear You

Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader

Word count: 8120 (Am I okay???)

Summary: Ransom and reader are idiots in love, but they haven’t told each other that yet. Ransom lets himself be vulnerable for the first time.

Warnings: soft!Ransom, explicit language, explicit sexual content (18+ only!!!!! - sprinkle of praise kink, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (m/f), vaginal fingering, mildly subby Ransom, squirting (oops), calling Ransom daddy but not full-blown daddy kink???), mention of loss of virginity, brief mention of insecurity in appearance, suggestive teasing, teeny bit of angst, too-sweet fluff bc I need it to survive... Please let me know if I missed anything!

This fic is extremely self-indulgent. I am plus-size, so I obviously wrote this envisioning myself as the reader. However, I kept the mention of size brief. I don’t think I’ve written anything hinting at race/ethnicity, so I really hope this is something all can enjoy.

Please see end for A/N. :) This is unbeta’d because I was afraid of chickening out of posting!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics!

You met Ransom Drysdale at an event at his grandfather Harlan’s estate celebrating the release of his latest novel. It was the first event you coordinated in your new position as Harlan’s assistant, and you were positive that everyone in the room could feel your anxiety rolling off of you in waves. In spite of your self-imposed “no alcohol at work functions” rule, you ordered an amaretto sour, figuring it wasn’t that strong, just syrupy sweet and enough to take off the edge. Ransom took one look at you from across the room and immediately decided you’d be going home with him that night. It physically pained you to say no to him, but you did, and for whatever reason, he didn’t give up. After a few weeks of showing up at the office and demanding your attention, he asked you on an actual date – out to dinner and a movie – and you said yes, unsure of what to expect.

Now you were waiting for Ransom to take you out on your first actual dinner date in ages. You’d been together for six months, but you could count the number of actual dates you shared on one hand. There had been three, and you slept with him after the third. You tried planning a few more after that, but those plans went out the window every time Ransom saw you all dolled up for him. He couldn’t keep his hands off you once you’d let him get a taste, and you didn’t mind that a bit; however, you did take issue with two hours of work on your makeup and outfit being smeared and discarded in a matter of minutes. So today, after breakfast, you insisted on celebrating six months together with a proper date.

“We can go to Dunkin’ for coffee and munchkins if you want, but we have to leave the bedroom at some point. I wanna celebrate!” You pouted a bit, sure that you looked ridiculous, but you had every intention of standing your ground. Good thing you had the kitchen counter behind you to back you up.

Ransom looked you up and down, his crystal blue eyes darkening to the prettiest navy. He put his hands on your waist, the cool metal of his pinky ring making you shiver as it came into contact with the sliver of exposed skin that managed to sneak out from underneath your sweater… Well, his sweater that he accidentally shrunk in the wash when you insisted he do the laundry himself for once. He leaned forward and kissed over your collarbone, up your neck, and stopped just below your ear, whispering, “But we already celebrated, pretty girl. You didn’t forget, did you? In the shower after we woke up…” He pressed into you, so close that you could feel him hardening against you.. “...on the couch while we waited for the scones to finish in the oven.” He nipped at your pulse point, and you hoped he didn’t hear your breath catch in your throat. “We can celebrate here in the kitchen right now...” He kissed you then, cupping your jaw with one hand and beginning to push down your shorts with the other.

You sighed into the kiss and you almost gave in, but you came to your senses in the brief moment when his lips left yours, lungs in search of air. You pushed him off of you and yelled, “NOPE!” He tried to cage you against the counter again, but you ran around the kitchen island, putting a ridiculous amount of solid marble between you. You held back a laugh when you realized how unhinged you must have looked holding the dough-covered rolling pin you used while baking this morning. “You buy me all these beautiful dresses and all this gorgeous jewelry, and I never get to wear any of it anywhere,” you said, a little too calmly while waving the rolling pin in his face, as if it were anywhere near as threatening as those knives in Harlan’s office. “Just a few hours. That’s all I ask.”

He put his hands up in defeat. You thought you’d won until he bit his lip and raised his eyebrow, and you knew you were in some kind of trouble since he reserved the single-eyebrow raise for those moments, the ones when he formulated his most sinful plans for you and your body. “Fine. Dinner is all about you, but what we do after? That’s all about me.”

You tapped your finger against your chin, pretending to think about it but knowing your pussy already agreed to this deal. Traitor. “Fair, I guess. If you sweep me off my feet at dinner, then we can do whatever you want when we come home.”

Ransom had started rolling his eyes at you, but his face visibly softened a bit when he heard you call his house home. He walked around the island and stood in front of you, smiling like an idiot when he leaned in towards you. He jerked backward with a soft chuckle, easing the rolling pin out of your hand and onto the tabletop before taking your face in both of his hands and giving you the sweetest, deepest kiss, like some kind of Disney prince. With a soft peck to the corner of your mouth, he pulled away from you enough to see your dumbstruck face, stroking your cheek with his thumb before kissing the tip of your nose. “What was that you said about sweeping you off your feet?”

His cocky grin burst the bubble you were floating in, and you quickly came back down to earth, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You’ll have to do more than that, Hugh.” Your laugh bordered on a cackle when his jaw dropped at your use of his given name, so formal that most people didn’t even know it. With that, you took the stairs two at a time and settled into your seat at the vanity he’d had built for you so you could get ready for what could be either the most romantic or the most heartbreaking night of your life.

Ransom always told you he didn’t think you needed makeup, but you weren’t going to let your extensive collection go to waste. You settled on keeping your base simple and going all out with a neutral smokey eye. You contemplated wearing red lipstick and decided against it, pressing your thighs together at the memory of how it stained the sheets last time you wore it, when he pounded you into the mattress, your screams and moans stifled by your pillow. You couldn’t seem to get your eyeliner right, and that’s when you realized your hands were shaking.

You were in love with Ransom, and you wanted to tell him tonight. Although your relationship wasn’t traditional by any means, you knew you had gotten closer to Ransom than anyone else ever had – members of his own family included. His demeanor was caustic at best, and your friends didn’t understand why you were with him, even though he treated you like a princess in public just as much as he did in private – maybe even more so, since he couldn’t let a second go by without reminding the world you were his. His family (apart from Harlan, and maybe his cousin Meg) loathed you and made sure you knew it, taking every opportunity to call you a gold-digger and pull Ransom away from your side to introduce you to some heiress or other.

Over the last six months, you and Ransom had shared almost as many heartfelt conversations as you did orgasms. He told you he loved to write, but he was too scared to try to publish. He feared Harlan would be accused of nepotism and he never would be able to make his own name mean something. After a few weeks, you confided in him that he was your first, and he was almost angry that you didn’t tell him beforehand so that he could’ve made it special for you. Then in typical Ransom fashion, he remarked, “I’m impressed you took all of me on your first try.” You gasped and smacked his cheek, feigning disgust and failing to hold in your giggles.

Another night, he told you that his mother Linda became “annoyed” with his childhood pet cat and gave it away one day while he was at school – that’s why he didn’t want another pet now, even though he lived in his own house. You shared that even though you were working on your master’s in publishing, you truly wanted nothing more than to be a stay-at-home mom one day, that you craved domesticity, having dinner on the table when your husband came home. He furrowed his brows at that. “Isn’t that, like, the opposite of feminism?”

You countered that it’s different when a woman stays home because she wants to do it, not because it’s expected of her. He said he would love to come home to you every day, whether you had dinner on the table or not.

Most recently, he shared that he started learning Spanish with Rosetta Stone so that he could take you on your dream vacation throughout all of Spain and not be embarrassed. He blushed and the conversation ended there, with you kissing him so hard he regretted not telling you sooner.

You chose a black midi dress Ransom bought you two months ago for your birthday. It was long-sleeved and not too low-cut. It fit you perfectly. The material was soft and slinky, but not so much that it would give away the surprise underneath, a lacy matching set you knew he’d love.

You always worried about your tummy in outfits like this, but you knew Ransom would worship you no matter what you wore (or didn’t wear, for that matter). He reminded you, enthusiastically and repeatedly, that he wanted his hands full of your body. The first time he begged you to sit on his face – yes, Hugh Ransom Drysdale begged for something – you told him you were afraid you would suffocate him.

“1. That’s practically impossible, sweetheart. 2. I can’t imagine a better way to go. About to cum with my mouth full of you and my head in between your perfect thighs? Murder me. Fucking do it. I’m telling Harlan to use this in his next book.” Cheeks warming at the memory, you finally slipped on your favorite strappy burgundy heels and walked downstairs, more anxious than you’d ever been, afraid you wouldn’t be able to stomach the food at dinner.

If Ransom’s jaw could have been on the floor, it would have. The same could be said for you, taking in the sight of your godlike boyfriend. His dark hair was carefully coiffed away from his face, drawing attention to his long, even darker eyelashes. So unfair. He wore a pair of gray wool slacks, pressed to perfection, with black bit-loafers and a burgundy sweater which emphasized how flushed his own cheeks were at the moment. His sweater matched your shoes exactly, and you marveled at how he always read your mind. He took your hand, helping you down the last few steps, and twirled you around once you reached the bottom. He spun you in close to him, and like something out of a movie, he revealed the bouquet of pink peonies he’d been hiding behind his back and dipped you, dropping a short kiss to your lips. “Happy anniversary, baby.” He pulled you back up against him, kissing you again and somehow managing not to crush the flowers.

You thought you might say it right then and there, but he left you both speechless and breathless. Everything he was doing and saying indicated he felt the same, but you were still so afraid he didn’t, all too aware of how guarded he could be. You opted to enjoy the evening a bit before potentially dropping a bomb you wouldn’t be able to defuse. “Ran, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You kissed his freshly-shaven cheek, giggling as he tried to get you to kiss him on the lips instead. You couldn’t resist, and you let him kiss you until you felt his tongue attempting to gain access to your mouth. “Enough. We’ll never leave at this rate,” you chided, kissing him on the cheek once more before turning around to look for a vase. You were shocked to find he’d already left a vase filled with water on the counter. How had you failed to notice that, and why was he being so thoughtful, so charming?

Little did you know, Ransom was questioning if he was doing too much? Not enough? He hoped you wouldn’t notice his hands shaking as he took the flowers back from you, quickly trimming the stems and arranging them neatly in the vase. He had watched Fran do it at Harlan’s several times, and he hoped he was doing it right and not killing them. He noticed you watching him and could feel himself blushing for the second time in as many minutes. Your attempts to look away from him were futile, your eyes involuntarily fixed upon the way his thick thighs and round ass filled out his tailor-made slacks. You nearly got on your knees, but this date was your idea, after all. Instead, you opted to take the vase from him and move it to the windowsill. “You never did say where we’re going, Ran.”

It took everything in him not to spoil the surprise, that he reserved your preferred table at your favorite restaurant the next town over. You regularly ordered takeout from there, but Ransom had never actually been, so even he was looking forward to going. He also arranged the menu beforehand knowing if he didn’t, you would spend entirely too much time trying to make a decision and not enough time letting him make you laugh. He even asked them to make your favorite cake for the two of you since he knew it always sold out earlier in the day. He smiled at you, and you knew he had no intentions of telling you where he was taking you.

“It’s cute that you think the grandson of a mystery writer wouldn’t keep you in suspense..” He winked at you, moving to open the door for you. Biting back a smile, you rolled your eyes as you walked past him. He locked the front door quickly, wanting to get ahead of you and open the passenger door of the Beemer. Ransom was always softer with you than he was with anyone else, but he was taking it to the next level tonight. He was never cruel to you like he was to his exceedingly vicious family, but he also didn’t shy away from the odd sarcastic response. If anything, he was only guilty of teasing you, most often when you were begging him, sexually or otherwise. He hoped you had no idea how the butterflies in his stomach that first appeared when he saw you walking down the stairs were currently conspiring to make him vomit out of the sheer panic he felt, sure that he was about to royally fuck this up.

Ransom was in love with you. This was the first time he ever felt so strongly about anyone, and it made him sick because he felt undeserving of you. He wasn’t sure he even felt love for his family, apart from his grandfather. He had dated before you, but he wasn’t one for relationships, definitely not exclusive ones. But there was something about you, and he knew from the second he spotted you at that release party six months ago that he wouldn’t be able to live without you. He was drawn to you immediately. At first, he thought he just wanted to fuck you, but you turned him down when other women would have fallen to their knees. Normally, rejection would have pissed him off, quickly moving on to the next pretty thing to catch his eye. To his surprise, he found himself wanting to get to know you - the sex would just be a bonus.

You had him wrapped around your finger after one date, totally whipped after two, and you didn’t even know it. Then you spent the night with him after your third date, letting him take you apart with his mouth, his fingers, his cock, and he asked himself what it would be like to have you every night for the rest of your lives. And later, when you told him he was your first? Initially, he was disappointed, even upset, that you didn’t give him the opportunity to be more gentle, more careful. He got past that quickly enough when he realized it turned him on a lot, not because he was a perv who relished ruining virgins or some shit like that, but because you wanted him enough, trusted him enough, to share that experience with him. His family barely trusted him to remember to feed his grandfather’s dogs, and you were willing to give him your body, letting him be the first and only person ever to make you cum and you let him do it about five more times that night.

All of this led Ransom to this moment, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he reversed out of the driveway. He wanted to tell you how he felt; you deserved someone who could give you that, shouting it from the rooftops by day and whispering it in your ear by night. He was in near agony, frightened to say those three words for the first time to a person and not his favorite sweater or his car, unsure if you felt the same. He wanted to believe you did, that this wasn’t just some sort of weirdly intimate exclusive fuck-buddy set-up where you didn’t actually want him as much as he wanted you, all of you. It had only been six months, and he was wildly inexperienced in the emotions department, but the way he craved you assured him that there was no way he could ever let you go. With all of that on his mind, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to tell you tonight, but he sincerely wished with all of his liquor-soaked heart that he could show you, at the very least. You could sense that he was lost in his own head and reached over to lace your fingers with his, pulling his right hand down to rest in your lap. He looked at you for a moment and gave you a tiny, shy smile, quickly returning his eyes to the road.

You squealed when Ransom pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, thankful that you chose to skip lunch, both to leave room for dinner and to avoid feeling sick with nerves. Ransom walked around to open your door and offered you his hand to help you out of the car. “I don’t believe I actually told you how breathtakingly stunning you look tonight. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He kissed your hand that he was still holding as you smoothed your dress with the other. He shut the door behind you and moved to take your arm in his to walk you inside.

“You didn’t. I must look good if I somehow rendered a Thrombey speechless,” you grinned .He laughed at that, kissing you on the cheek. You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you? Have I made you soft, Drysdale? It’s been thirty minutes and you haven’t even cursed.” You smiled at him, eyes crinkling with amusement. He panicked for a moment before he realized you were only teasing him. He really thought for a moment that all of his efforts were for naught, that you thought it was overkill.

He tried to play it cool, leaning forward to bring his lips to your ear. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “I’m saving that for when we get home from this expensive-ass date, baby.” The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, straight to your core. You’d be lying if you said your panties were still dry. He moved back, grabbing both of your hands and looking at you with a bright smile and a wink. You laughed and closed the distance between you, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks and kiss him, innocently at first. You turned it into an almost-messy, open-mouthed, tongue-filled kiss, ending it with a quick peck before it got too out of control. He looked wrecked already, cheeks flushing (again) and chest slightly heaving. Perhaps it was a not-great decision on his part in wearing his grey slacks since you could see the outline of his soon-to-be painfully obvious erection forming. He let out a deep breath and took your hand in his, walking you into the restaurant.

Dinner was perfect, and the conversation between the two of you flowed as easily and sweetly as your favorite wine of which Ransom had ensured there’d be plenty. When you’d finished your meal, though, he seemed distant, sending the odd text and checking his phone in a way that was anything but discreet. The waiter asked if you were ready for dessert and you requested a moment to decide.

You reached across the table and put your hand over Ransom’s, imploring him to put down his phone. “I’m not sure if you’ve already arranged dessert, but I made you something at home if you don’t mind taking this to go?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t quite discern his expression. He bit his lip, looking down toward his phone, and you realized he was nervous as he quickly sent another text. You scooted toward him in the rounded booth, lightly placing one hand on his thigh and gently squeezing his hand with your other. “Is everything okay, Ran?”

He placed his other hand on top of yours and smiled at you, but his voice was uncharacteristically shaky when he spoke. “Everything’s perfect. I just have another surprise for you at home that’s being set up while we’re here. I wanted to make sure it’s all done before we get back. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He kissed you on the cheek, his gentleness bewildering you further. “Dessert at home sounds great.” He asked the waiter to wrap up your leftovers, including the cake you hadn’t yet tasted. After placing a rather large wad of bills on the table, he stood up and extended his hand to you to help you to your feet.

“So when you said you made dessert… Did you mean actual dessert, or was that a euphemism for sex? Because I’ve been rock hard since that kiss on the way in, and I think I deserve a reward for not simply having my way with you in the restroom.” Ransom looked at you from the driver’s seat with wide eyes, hopeful yet suggestive, as he lifted your hand to kiss it with his perfect pink lips.

You smirked at him then, making the decision to toy with him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You moved your hand still entwined with his down to his lap, gently applying pressure where he so desperately craved it. Satisfied with the clipped moan that slipped from his mouth, you continued, slowly, barely rubbing him through his pants. “I do appreciate that, though – that you kept your hands to yourself like that, handsome.” You felt his hand squeeze yours, and you knew it was taking everything in him not to pull over and fuck you on the side of the road. You could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties. Maybe it was a bad idea, but emboldened by the way he was reacting to your words, you decided to push him even further. You leaned over and gently pressed your lips to the side of his neck, purring in his ear, “Only good boys get to have dessert, and you’ve been so good for me tonight.”

You’d begun to suspect your boyfriend had a bit of a praise kink a few weeks ago when you jokingly called him a good boy after he proudly informed you that he did all of the dishes by hand and didn’t use the dishwasher or leave them for the maid. The words left your mouth, and his pupils dilated before he quickly cleared his throat and left the room, so you decided to hold onto that card and play it the next time you really wanted something from him. Tonight was that night. You actually did make dessert for him, and you wanted him to at least see it before he locked the two of you in the bedroom for the night. He turned his whole body to look at you like he just won the fucking lottery, and you felt the car accelerate the slightest bit. Using your free hand to pinch his chin, you directed him to face forward once more. “Eyes on the road now, Ran.”

Ransom practically ripped the keys out of the ignition when he pulled into the driveway. The second you unbuckled your seatbelt, you thought he might tear the passenger door off the hinges as he reached in to scoop you up bridal-style. He kicked the door closed and started running toward the house with you in his arms, holding on tightly to his neck and squealing in excitement. He stopped in front of the door and adjusted the way he held you, wrapping your legs around his waist and supporting you with one arm as he scrambled to turn the key in the lock. The front door closed with a slam that surely shook the house as he made his way toward the stairs up to his bedroom. Was it your bedroom, too? Your own apartment essentially served as a storage unit at this point. You shook your head to yourself. You could think about that another time.

You came to your senses when you heard the creak of the first step under Ransom’s foot. “Wait, Ran, put me down!”

He stopped with one foot in mid-air, ready to take the next step. He pressed his forehead to yours, whining, “Whaaat, Y/N? You’re torturing me, beautiful.”

You tried to soothe him, scratching through the hair at the back of his neck as you warily placed your feet on the ground. “I really did make dessert for you, Ransom,” you pouted.

Of course you made dessert, Ransom thought. You were perfect in every way, and every single thing you’d done that day replayed in his head, reminding him that this had to be too good to last, that you were too good for him. Without thinking, he clapped his hand across his face, dramatically stretching his features downwards. “Can you at least let me blow your back out first? I’m in pain over here.” He waved his hands around in the vicinity of his glaring boner, looking like an air traffic controller. He’d made up his mind that you certainly would not stick around if and when he worked up the courage to say those three words, those eight letters, that made his stomach flip in truly unbearable discomfort, so he was on a mission to feel you around him, on top of him, underneath him one last time.

To his surprise, you scrunched your nose at him in the adorable way you always did when he made an overtly sexual comment. You reached out for his hand and led him to the kitchen. “Just let me show you before we go upstairs. I don’t mind if we eat it later, but I’m proud of this one. I made it just for you, honey.” Ransom knew you loved to bake. In fact, one of his favorite things was watching you sing and dance around the kitchen as you experimented, sugar, butter, flour everywhere. He wondered to himself when you had time to make dessert without his noticing. “Close your eyes for a sec. No peeking.” He watched you spin around toward the fridge before he covered his eyes with one large hand, the other resting on the countertop. “Open.” If your smile were any wider, your face would have split in half.

Ransom raised an eyebrow at the dish before looking back at you. “Cheesecake? What’s on top?”

You let out a deep breath. “Okay, so…” You tried to channel Vanna White, showcasing your creation with dramatic hand gestures. “I present to you… brown sugar bourbon cheesecake with… Drum roll, please, Ransom.” His cackle was cut short by the realization that you were completely serious. He did as you instructed, moving towards you to tap your hips in place of a snare drum. “... Biscoff cookie crust. I crumbled some on top, too. I snuck down here after you fell asleep last night so it would have plenty of time to set.”

Ransom felt the sting of tears in his eyes and quickly lowered his head to blink them away before you could see. He couldn’t imagine what he ever did to deserve you, this beautiful woman in front of him who found the most thoughtful, unbelievable ways to make him feel so special. In that instant, he let himself believe that maybe you loved him, too. Why else would you sacrifice your own sleep? Why else would you work so hard? Remember his favorite things and venture to find some way to combine them into what would, no doubt, be the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten besides you? This night was chipping away at his walls to the point where they might crumble, and for the first time, he thought maybe he was okay with that.

He hugged you then, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. He peppered kisses all over your face, ending with an unexpectedly sweet kiss to your lips. You thought you saw tears glistening in his eyes, but you didn’t say anything. “Thank you so much, baby. This is so thoughtful. You’re too good to me.” Something shifted in the air between you two, and you could tell he was not going to cut a slice of the dessert anytime soon, so you turned around in his arms to put it away. He leaned over you, growling in your ear from behind, “I can’t wait to share some with you in our bed.” He kissed your shoulder and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, unknowingly answering your earlier question as to whether or not the bedroom was yours, too. The warm sensation in your chest was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want it to go away.

You placed the dish in the refrigerator and shut the door, turning around in his arms. “Now,” you hiked one leg up on his hip, “I believe you said something about blowing my back out, honey.” His hands moved down from your waist to support your ass, prompting you to wrap your other leg around his narrow waist, your arms around his thick neck, decidedly your new favorite method of transportation.

Ransom took the stairs two at a time, anxious to see how Fran and Marta did with his request. “Close your eyes for me, baby?” He kissed your forehead, lips lingering for a moment as he watched your lashes flutter before he opened the bedroom door.

He smiled when he opened the door, taking in the view and the sweet scent of all of the candles and flowers. He texted Marta and Fran while you’d been getting ready, asking if they could pick up several dozen roses and candles to decorate the room before you got home from dinner. Neither of them ever had considered Ransom to be so romantic and were more than willing to help when he mentioned it was your anniversary. He smiled, satisfied with the job they’d done, making a mental note to Venmo them double what he sent initially.

Ransom placed you down on the floor, holding onto your waist from behind and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Open.”

You couldn’t believe how beautiful your bedroom looked, covered in red and pink rose petals and bathed in the warm glow of the candlelight. “Oh, Ransom,” you gasped. You looked around for another moment, noticing the bed was made with the new duvet and sheets you’d been looking at online a few weeks ago. “This is too much.”

He turned you around to face him and kissed you, short and sweet. “Baby, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do enough for you.”

You looked up at him and smiled, eyes shiny with tears yet to fall. “I thought dessert was supposed to be all about you?” You placed your hands on his chest, relishing the feel of his heart beating faster at your touch.

“This is for both of us.” Smooth as ever, he reached behind your back to unzip your dress. “You get the girly, dreamy set-up, and I get to admire how sexy you are in this light.”

Your dress dropped to the floor and he helped you step out of it, picking it up and neatly laying it over the back of your chair. You were already wet, and this simple act of taking such care with you, with your clothes, only ruined your panties further. You stood with your hands on your hips, slightly flexing your biceps forward to maximize the appearance of your cleavage.

“Are you implying that I’m not sexy in other lights, Ransom?” You bit your lip so he’d know you were just playing, afraid to tease too, too much since he seemed so on edge.

His mouth hung open wide as he looked you up and down, arms reaching forward to run his hands up and down your sides before resting low on your hips. Ransom stepped back and took one of your hands in his, using his other hand to prompt you to turn around for him before pulling you in for another kiss. “That is actually the exact opposite of what I’m thinking, pretty girl.” He continued admiring you, sneakily slipping his fingers beneath the waistline of your panties. “You know this color on you drives me crazy, right?”

You smiled and nodded as he moved his fingers lower, gathering your wetness with a feather-light touch that made you pant. He groaned when he easily slipped two thick fingers inside you and met no resistance, a fresh rush of your slick leaking down his hand.

“Well, fuck me. Jesus, baby.” You whimpered at the loss of his fingers, but your eyes widened as you watched him suck on his fingers, lapping your juices from his skin. When he was finished, you pressed the length of your body to his, backing him into the wall behind him.

“That’s the goal, daddy.” You felt his cock twitch in his pants as you tightened your fingers in his hair, forcing his mouth open with a gasp, granting your tongue access to taste yourself on his lips.

You never thought you would address a man other than your father as daddy until you were with Ransom. He was your first and only, so when he commanded that you “cum all over daddy’s cock” the first time you slept together, you did just that. From that point forward, you only ever called him that in bed, figuring it was just what he liked. It wasn’t necessarily your kink, but pleasing Ransom definitely was. Whether or not you were in the bedroom, it was a surefire way to get what you wanted.

Six months later, here you were, confidently sinking to your knees and unzipping his tented slacks. You were so nervous the first time you offered to suck your boyfriend off, but he was understanding, assuring you it was okay if you weren’t ready. His tenderness only motivated you, and you probably should’ve known then that you held his inexperienced heart in your hands.

Still pressed against the wall, Ransom gazed at you with a mix of lust and adoration, in disbelief that he managed to find you and that you willingly stayed with him. He let out a thin wheeze as you finally rid him of his briefs, planting a kiss below his belly button before your lips traveled south. “Baby, please, I need you.”

You smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh. “Who’s got you so needy tonight, daddy?” you whispered as you nipped along his perfectly defined Adonis belt. He pulled his sweater off in a frenzy, the sight of his naked form causing your walls to clench around nothing.

“You, pretty girl. Always you. Only you,” he whined, reaching down to cup your cheek as your eyes met his.

Ransom already looked gone, eyes hooded and sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest. You weren’t sure how long you’d last, and he’d barely touched you yet.

You hummed in response, then kissed the leaking head of his cock before swallowing the length of him. You bobbed your head back and forth, taking him as deep as you could. His moans grew higher in pitch with each movement inside your throat, and you squeezed your thighs together to relieve the ache between them. His hips bucked forward of their own accord until you brought a hand to his tummy, holding him still. You pulled off of him with a wet pop, a noise that in any other situation might gross you out but only served to turn you on further while you were on your knees.

“Patience, daddy.” You rose to your feet, kissing your way up his body. You leaned on him for support as you removed your heels. Once you were finished, Ransom surged forward, capturing your swollen lips with his, frantically licking his way inside your mouth, inevitably tasting himself on your tongue. You feverishly kissed him back, providing the closeness he needed to reach around and undo the clasp of your bra. He managed to toss your bra onto your vanity before ducking his head to pay your pebbled nipples some well-deserved attention. You cradled the back of his head, carding your fingers through his hair as you pressed his face to your tits.

Another wave of arousal damn near gushed from your core, prompting you to put an end to Ransom’s ministrations. “Take me to bed?”

Ransom squeezed your ass before giving it a quick tap. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist while he laughed at your enthusiasm, laying you down in the middle of the bed before removing your completely-drenched panties.

“I’d venture to say this is the wettest you’ve ever been, baby.”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks in response to his comment. “Well, what are you waiting for?” You grinned at him before pulling him down on top of you, eager to feel him inside you at last.

“Baby, slow down,” he gasped, breath ragged. He kneeled over you, reaching for the nightstand where he kept the condoms. You grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his open palm. Ransom inhaled sharply, waiting for you to speak.

Although your pupils were blown, your eyes were soft, searching his face. “I just wanna feel you, Rans–”

Ransom’s brows rose high on his forehead, but in what emotion, you were unsure. Now you were afraid you’d done something wrong, even though you didn’t do it on purpose.

“–I mean, daddy. Please.” You searched his face for any indication of what he was thinking, but he was giving you nothing.

Ransom was overwhelmed. No one had called him by his actual name during sex ever. Even his first girlfriend stuck to calling him “baby” or “handsome” after he clapped a hand over her mouth when she started to say his name. Once he was a bit older, he preferred “sir” or “daddy”. But then you came along, thawing out the block of ice in his chest where his heart always was meant to be. And you were telling him to fuck you raw? Another thing he’d never done with anyone else, wanting to be somewhat safe since he used to sleep around so much.

“Please say something,” you murmured, bringing him back out of his own head.

He leaned down, cupping your cheek and pressing his forehead to yours. “Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he prodded, voice laced with warm concern.

“I’m so sure.” You stroked the apple of his cheek with your thumb, smiling when he relaxed at your touch. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been with, and you haven’t been with anyone besides me in all this time.”

The corner of his mouth turned upwards, showing off one of his dimples that would make you weak in the knees if you weren’t lying down already. “But you’re not on birth control, baby. Please don’t feel like you have to do thi–”

Pulling his face to yours, you kissed him hard. “–No, I’m not, but I’ve been tracking my cycle. We should be fine.” His eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him once more. You waited for him to open his eyes so you could look into them.

“I trust you.”

Ransom looked like the heart-eyes emoji; he had never heard those words in his life – not from family, not from friends. He kissed you again, sloppily, hungrily.

“If you change your mind, promise you’ll tell me?”

“I won’t change my mind, but I promise.”

Another kiss, gentler this time, made your head spin. It was different from any other kiss you’d shared, emotional and full of something you were hesitant to name. He lined himself up with your entrance, coating himself in your slick before pushing into you slowly.

“OhmyfuckingGOD,” he hissed as you adjusted to his thickness, your walls involuntarily tightening around him. “You feel so amazing, baby. I’m not gonna last long. Fuck.”

The sensation of his cock inside you was similar to the usual, but so much more intense. Ransom began to move, and you could feel each vein dragging against you with every thrust. Open-mouthed kisses along your throat left you panting. You were a pliant, fucked-out mess as he moved his hips with more intention, his tip hitting the spot that made you see stars.

“Ransom, please,” you screamed as one thrust in particular had you arching your back, pushing your chest into his.

Your eyes flew open as you tried to assess the damage you’d done. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Ransom slowed his pace. “Don’t be sorry, pretty girl.” He kissed your tears away as quickly as they came. “I’ve never let anyone call me by my actual name in bed before.” He smiled sweetly at you as he continued moving inside you, each stroke somehow more tender than the last. “Say it again, Y/N. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

You cried out as he began to circle your clit with his thumb. “You are, Ransom. Always. Make. Me. Feel. So. Good.” He punctuated each word with a perfectly-angled thrust.

You were so fucking close, and Ransom began to lose his rhythm, not far behind you. “Please, Ransom, make me cum.” You sounded pathetic, needing your release in the worst way. His hips snapped violently against yours, pushing you up the bed.

“Louder, baby. Scream my name when I make you cum.” Using his index and middle fingers together, he rubbed your clit harshly at lightning speed, making you choke on air as you fell apart.

His name left your mouth like a wail, volume so high that, if he had neighbors, they’d probably call the cops. Ransom continued fucking you through it, losing all control at the feeling of you squirting all over him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Ransom moved to pull out of you, planning to finish on your chest, but you crossed your legs behind him, pulling him right back in.

“Baby, please, I need to cum.” He pressed his face into your neck as he struggled to delay his climax.

Hugging him tightly, you kissed the top of his head before pushing him up to his knees, straddling him. “I know, baby, I know. I want you, all of you. I always will.” You snaked a hand down his back to grab at his ass, urging him impossibly deeper inside you. “Come on, Ransom. Please give it to me.”

He came with a roar, biting into your shoulder. The feeling of his cum filling you up was unlike anything you’d felt before, but not unwelcome by any means, and triggered another orgasm of your own, milking him thoroughly. You held each other, sobbing wordlessly as you came down from your simultaneous highs, eventually collapsing in a puddle of loose limbs.

You weren’t sure if minutes or hours had passed, you were so out of it, floating on the most blissful cloud. Ransom began to stir, kissing from your chest to your collarbone, from your throat to your jaw, before finally ending once again at your lips. You winced as he pulled out of you, the feeling of his spend leaking from your core unfamiliar and a little unpleasant. Ransom laid next to you, tucking your head under his chin and folding you into his embrace.

“Ransom?”

He smiled sleepily, unable to get enough of your voice saying his name with so much affection. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He held you tighter.

“Why did you let me say your name tonight?”

He shuffled down to face you, lifting your chin with his finger. He figured it was now or never.

“Because I love you, Y/N. You’re the only person who’s ever believed I could be a good man. You encourage me to be the man I want to be, not the man you want me to be or the man everyone else seems to think I should be. You’ve never tried to change me. I’ve only changed because I wanted to. I wanted to be better for you.”

You felt tears spilling down your cheeks, now that your boyfriend had confirmed you had nothing to be afraid of, after all. He felt the same way, and your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

“And you make me happy,” he continued. “I love your laugh and the way you somehow always know what I want for breakfast. I love how you sing in the shower, then pretend you didn’t. I love how you let me be the little spoon on my bad days and when I’m drunk. I love that you read to me when I can’t fall asleep. I love your heart and your mind and your laugh. Everything. I love everything about you.”

The terrified look on Ransom’s face didn’t last long. It couldn’t – not when you were rolling on top of him to pull him into your millionth kiss of the night.

“I love you, too, Ransom. So fucking much. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long now.”

The two of you held each other and cried, in need of emotional release following such an intense physical one.

With another peck to your lips, Ransom untangled himself from you, going to the en suite bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean you up. His touch was soothing, careful around your most sensitive areas. He discarded the cloth in the hamper before leaving the room again. You wondered where he went, but you could hardly keep your eyes open.

A few moments later, you felt something cold against your mouth. Opening your eyes, you found Ransom sitting next to you with a plated slice of cheesecake, holding a fork up to your face. You laughed, sitting up before taking a bite.

“I really outdid myself, didn’t I?”

“Absolutely, baby. This is fucking incredible.”

You brushed a crumb away from the corner of his mouth. “I think we should make post-orgasm cheesecake a permanent thing.”

Ransom placed the now-empty plate on his nightstand, getting under the covers with you. “I know we should make it a permanent thing.” He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your back.

“I love you, Ransom. I hope we’re a permanent thing,” you whispered into his chest.

He looked down at you before kissing the tip of your nose and holding you tighter. “I love you, too, pretty girl. I know we’re a permanent thing.”

A/N: This fic is actually the reason I started this blog. I used to write fic years ago and stopped writing, fic or otherwise, for quite some time. Earlier this year, I started to venture into reading fic again and found some incredible authors here. I had submitted these asks (1, 2, 3) to Christy (@chrissquares), knowing she loved Ransom as much as I do, and her responses inspired me to create a new blog and get back to writing.

I’ve been working on this since the end of May when I sent in these asks, and I think this is as ready as I’ll ever be to share it. Thank you so much for the inspiration, Christy! I’m so happy to be writing again, and I hope people can enjoy this (much longer than planned) story. 🥺

As always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated.

Send me drabble prompts to help me flex these writing muscles again!

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