pillow princess - pt. 2
summary: ransom really is a pillow princess
pairing: sub!ransom drysdale x maid!reader
rating: explicit 18+ (DNI if you’re under 18 -.-)
warnings: SMUT, fluff :), mentions of transactional sexual favors, edging, overstimulation, creampie, pain-kink [mild], bratty!ransom, kinda dom!reader, needy!ransom, ransom is cute 😩
WC: ~2.1k
A/N: um--this took a while, sorry 😬 I absolutely did not proof read this whoops 😅
likes are nice, but comments/reblogs keep me going!
masterlist
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Much to your relief, Ransom returns to his usual bratty attitude the next day. He flawlessly acts like nothing happened, careful not to bother more or less than he did before.
Actually, he bounces back to your old dynamic so easily that you wonder if he even remembers that night. It’s almost meticulous with how he interacts with you now.
The only evidence of his earlier affections that you can recognize is how he says “maid” with a little more husk than necessary. His silky voice teases goosebumps up your arms, but he never goes further. He wants you to chase him. But you’re not one to fold so easily.
So you follow his apathetic attitude, not needing more drama in your life regarding the man-child you already have to care for. Ransom is a man of limited patience and interest, so his moving on is an inherent assumption. As long as you keep yourself at arm's length, you can return to your life of cleaning and cooking.
Though he is tempting, you are content with your distant position in his life–any more would simply exhaust you. So you assume that he will eventually forget about your moment of weakness and go back to his usual brand of willing women.
But you should’ve known better because, as you’ve learned from your employment under the Drysdales, Ransom is a man full of surprises.
–
Apparently, the way into a man’s heart–or at least Ransom’s is to completely ignore him.
You hear Ransom clear his throat from the couch, insisting your attention away from the dishes you are working on. You continue with the dishes anyway, pressing the sponge into a particularly stubborn pan as the sound of running water blurs over his annoyed grunt.
Ransom has been unusually distant today, always in another room doing god knows what, to actively avoid you until dinner. The TV plays idly in the background as he peeks up over the geometric couch with a hesitant expression. You’ve never seen that before.
"Can you-um, play with my hair?" Your movements pause, thinking you heard him wrong. "Please?" he adds, nervously shuffling himself on the cushion, slightly regretting he even asked. You should make him wait a little longer, stew in his self-doubt, but you can’t help how your body reacts to his sheepish behavior.
Ransom looks incredibly adorable today, opting to leave his hair alone after his shower: product-free and fluffy. He wears one of his older sweaters, shrowding his broad frame in stretched-out cotton, unbothered by the tattered mess of frayed edges and tugged threads that rub against his skin.
He almost looks small as he waits for your response, letting the sleeves blanket over his hands as he fiddles with his fingers. You drop the sponge in the sink and dry your hands before walking over to him, wordlessly gesturing for him to move over to make space for you.
“Lay your head on my lap." You sound bored, acting like this is just another chore to fulfill, but on the inside, you’re thrumming in bliss. He obediently follows your directions, cheek pressing against the top of your thighs to let you run your fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes as you gently scratch against his scalp, little sighs puffing out every so often.
His hair is just as soft as it looks, little waves fighting to curl up against years of pomade-use. You keep your gaze straight toward the TV, enjoying this spell of serenity, afraid he’d get up if you locked eyes.
He looks up at you, silently wishing you’d stare right back.
—
The original plan went out the door as soon as you had a taste of sweet-Ransom.
He fell asleep on you that night, completely at ease in your embrace as you brushed through his hair, petting him like you would a cat. You watched as he curled up next to you, too entranced in his beauty to move from under him.
Your stomach burns with desire and affection when you reminisce how soft he can be, content to just nuzzle against your hand the whole night. It’s what finally breaks you.
So you start experimenting with how far you can take this newfound power, dropping little hints as you go on with your day:
Ransom is almost done eating his usual omelet when you proposition him.
"I'll give you a kiss if you put your dishes in the dishwasher..."
Ransom, who was once avidly watching a youtube video on his iPad, immediately perks up at your words. Expectantly, he shows a bit of resistance to the new dynamic, hmphing at the thought of cleaning up after himself.
"Yeah, no, I'm not doing that–And what makes you think I couldn't just take a kiss if I wanted to?"
You slowly walk up to the dining table, placing his second mug of coffee on the corner of the gray-blue placemat. "...So you don't want a kiss?" His eyebrows furrow with sincere dismay, offended by your question.
"I never said that."
"So you do?" You sweetly place his utensils on his plate, preparing him for his first chore in god knows how long.
"Yes."
"Then… you know what to do." You head toward the stairs before he can argue with you, thinking of the laundry that could occupy your attention as you wait for him to either give in or give up. “Call me when you get it done.”
Despite living alone, Ransom’s laundry room is just as full as his closet. You stare at the piles of clothes that need to be ironed, folded, and organized, bewildered by how many outfits he can wear in one day.
You’re barely able to pick up a sweater before he calls you from downstairs. That was fast.
"I'm done! You can come back and give me my kiss now!" You sigh, looking down at the color-coded piles of clothes. It’ll just have to wait.
You pad down the 'floating' staircase and spot him sitting patiently at the dining table where you left him. iPad off with no plate in sight.
"Good job, Ransom." You praise, speaking to him like a preschool teacher would a child. You mentally shake your head at his arrogant smirk. He’s so proud of himself for doing the absolute minimum, just because you asked.
"Kiss. Now." You give him a small smile, shuffling over to his eagerly seated figure. He smoothly nuzzles against your hand as you hold his face, eyes closed in anticipation as you lean in for a kiss. You mischievously bite your lip before placing a quick peck on his cheek, immediately turning to walk back to the stairs.
You wince when you hear the dining chair scrape against the wooden floor as he stands up with indignation. That’ll surely leave a mark. "Hey! That wasn’t what I asked for!" His deep voice whines up the stairs behind you.
You're stopped halfway up the stairs as you turn to speak to him, a pleased smirk gracing your lips. "That was a kiss, Ransom. Maybe be more specific next time?"
"B-but you're the one who offered it!" You shrugged innocently, enjoying how frustrated you could make him.
"Then maybe you should make me clarify next time?"
—
It doesn’t take long for him to use this new give-and-take game to his advantage.
“I’ll do my laundry if you give me a real kiss on the lips.” Your lips part, dammit, he is learning. “For five minutes.” He hastily adds, knowing what a smart-ass you can be.
You act like you’re reluctantly giving in, answering with a slow nod, agreeing to his terms.
Your plan is going perfectly, he’s making your job easier AND you get a kiss from sweet, desperate, Ransom. What could go wrong?
“I’ll do the dishes all week if you let me eat you out.” His voice echoes through the bathroom, startling you from cleaning. You drop the disinfectant spray sending a loud bang through the shower, surprised by his sudden presence. Has he been there the whole time?
“Until you cum.” He specifies as if you’d stop him once he’s over you. You let out a small cough before turning to look at him, gloved hands still frozen in the air. Ransom has his hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits for your answer.
“Ransom…”
“Please,” He walks further into the bathroom until he’s towering over your crouched position. “I’ll only do whatever you want me to do. Promise.”
—
You melt for him as easily as he does for you, his newfound softness luring you in. You don’t know how he convinced you into his bed, or if he even convinced you at all.
His pleading eyes eagerly stare up at you bouncing on his lap as your nails rake down his bare chest, decorating his skin with sweet red trails. Ransom seethes through his teeth, “Yesss.” His cock twitches inside of you as he winces at the pain, helplessly laying under you as he takes everything you give him.
He gently holds on to your waist as you begin teasingly grinding on him with short abrupt movements, earning a sharp groan from his throat. His stomach rubs beautifully against your clit, making you speed up your movements.
His hips weakly cant up to meet yours, the sound of his skin harshly slapping against your ass travels throughout the house, music to your ears. Soon, too soon, his thrusts start to slow down, juddering as he struggles to sync with your movements. He chokes, holding himself inside of you.
"Fuck, I'm gonna-" You quickly push yourself off of him, leaving him to whine as he teeters at the edge of his orgasm. His sweat-shined body shakes when his cock barely brushes against your sopping lips, muscles clenching, feeling overly sensitive. "Noo, please" he begs, attempting to chase the warmth of your cunt to no avail.
"You only cum when I say you can, you got that." His chest is rising rapidly, pouting against your cruel denial. You reach down and wrap your fingers around his sensitive cock, squeezing gently to make a point, "I said, you got that?"
"Y-yes, got it."
—
You were impressed how he's keeping up with you, even after cumming two times tonight. You edged him through both rounds, stretching each orgasm to the limit before finishing him with your hand, letting him spill onto your skin.
You’d soak him in your cunt right until he’s ready to burst. “Uh-uh, creampies are only for good boys.” He nods numbly, exhausted from trying to hold his cum back.
At the beginning of the night, you were making him beg so prettily for his orgasm, but now, he's desperately begging you to stop. Overstimulated to the brim, it’s almost painful how quickly he gets to the edge.
"Please--fuck!" You purposely clench yourself around him, driving him crazy, hands flail to grip at your body, trying to keep you still above him.
You glare down at his flushed face, "Don't fucking touch me." His hands instantly drop before clenching into fists as he tries to stave himself from cumming. His cock practically vibrates from your harsh words, already oversensitized from the number of times you've gotten him off.
"I-I can't--" He throbs inside of you, heightening the way he prods against the deepest part of you. You smile cruelly, looking down at him, letting out a breathless chuckle. He stares up at you with pleading eyes, deliriously following your movements.
"Aw baby," You let go of his right hand to cover his mouth, muffling his groans as you speed up. “You don’t have a choice.” He breathes harshly through his nose, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you fuck him dry, reveling in the way his body trembles under you as he fills you to the brim with his cum.
—
Ransom’s arms tenderly wrap around your waist as he cloaks you in his warmth. His heart beats steadily against your back as his nose presses into your neck.
Despite his submissive nature, Ransom likes to be the big spoon. Sure, it’s partially due to his urge to protect you, but the main reason is to ensure you don’t leave him as he sleeps--because no matter how cocky and arrogant he acts, Ransom is scared to lose you.
His soft breaths brush against the back of your hair as he sleeps, periodically pulling you in closer to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, basking in your scent.
Ransom feels safe around you. Like he can finally drop the mask he’s been wearing all these years and accept who he is. And he wants to be vulnerable with you. He actually craves it. You’re the first person to see this side of him–or at least the first he has wanted to keep—and he’s never felt so free.
That’s why he can’t afford to lose you
