Pairing: Ransom × Female Reader
Pairing: Ransom × female reader
Character taken from: Knives out
Summary: Ransom is an asshole and you can't be kind to him at all for some reason. You've dealt with arrogant people for a good part of your life. But he just make you loose your cool from your fiery personality- not that there was much to start with. And...you finally find out just what makes him shut up.
Warning: Smut, swearing, a little immoral (but hey, as long as it gets u off), illicit mentions.
Please do not blog or repost. Do NOT copy my work. Please reblog, like and comment as you read.
Ransom has always been an asshole; angry and entitled, so much so that he almost ended up in jail. Technically, he did end up in jail, he just never reached there. Accidental swerving of the federal car and his disappearing right after the crash was all just a lovely coincidence- or so the feds think, maybe they won't use the word lovely though.
Settling in when he had no money or taste for cheap stuff was hell, correction- it's still hell. He'll just have to wait it out, maybe Marta will just die. Infact given his family's behaviour she will die anyway and so would her immediate family- just to make sure, it just won't be accidental. Then he can return for his cut, liquidify his assets, get his Beemer back and come live in Europe the life he likes.
Solid plan. Except he can't help but feel like killing certain someone here too and gods help him, very intimately. His bare hands, if he can use them. The woman across his pathetic apartment- if it can even be called one, is a bloody nightmare. A very fuckable nightmare but hells he can't handle her. A fuckable nightmare that is walking right towards him.
You are irritated beyond limits, this asshole has been living across you for over a month and has done everything in his power to burn and boil your blood whenever possible which for him is apparently 24×7.
"Did you really throw coffee in my mail box, you bloody cunt?"
"Now don't go calling me names, sweetheart. People might start seeing just how much you're into me-"
"You slimy motherfucker. I swear to god, Randall-"
With a frown he corrects you by interrupting and inserting, "Ransom, it's Ransom darling. Not like you don't know it."
"Oh, Go fuck yourself Ronny."
"Woman, really! You pull shit like this and then ask why did I throw coffe in your-"
"What do you mean 'shit like this'- not pronouncing your name right, because I don't fucking know it?! "
"I literally JUST told you!"
"STOP YELLING YOU TWO BLOODY YOUNGLINGS!"
Scared shitless of the new voice reaching your ears you turn towards Ms Robinson standing outside her apartment, holding a fork very tightly.
"Go away, you old hag-"
Your eyes widen as Ransom being Ransom deals with situation in the worst style.
"Now liste' here, you goo' for nothin' douche bag, shut up and fuck off. You ruining my Saturday. I hear yelling again and I'll lighta yo ass and yo' home on fire."
You burst out laughing the moment the hurricane of a woman leaves the hallway. Ransom changes his shock into a scowl as he looks at you.
"Everybody knows not to mess with that woman. Where's have been living? Oh god, that was fucking funny, shit!"
You shriek when Ransom grabs your hair and pulls your back into his chest by your hair.
"I've been living right here, arguing my head off with another woman of somewhat similiar temperament. You wanna laugh some more sweetheart?"
His smug tone fires up your temper and you headbutt him into his shoulder, cursing he leaves your hair giving you the space to turn and slap him, hard.
Silence and tense suffocate you as you prepare mentally for his reaction. This has gone too far anyways. But hells you couldn't have prepared for that.
Ransom pulls you by the hair and kisses you harshly. You can't make sense of anything but the fact that you want to kiss him back just as hard, so you do. You rip his jumper off of his shoulder right there in the hallway and he tears off your sleeves. Pulling his hair, you drag him in more and bite his lip. Ransom moans and grabs your hips tight enough to bruise.
This doesn't feel like sex, it feels like much, much, much more fucking intense. It's consuming you both. Suddenly, a sliver of doubt creeps in from somewhere. This is bloody Ransom. And he hates you like you hate him. Coming to your senses, you try to push Ransom off. It doesn't move him a bit but he stops and steps back. Breathing heavily, both of you panting from sexual tension, minimal control and hormones look at each other.
"Do you want to stop, darling?"
There is that word again. Bloody names, but he calls you all of them just to mock you, right? How is he not thinking anything but about sex right now. Does he even give a fuck who he's sleeping with? Of course, not. He'll fuck you just like he fucks every other girl he brings over. But they don't have to live across him, none of them do. So they'll be fine, you won't though.
Sighing, you hug yourself with your arms and nod.
"Yeah, let's not do something this stupid. It was a mistake.", Just to appear nonchalant you add, " and don't pour fucking coffee in my mail box again for fuck's sake, Ransom."
Trying your best to appear indifferent under his intense and curious gaze you walk back to your apartment calmly and lock the door.
Now you want to fuck him too before you kill him, great! But what's the harm ? You can fuck him, what gives? Not like he will act any different, you can do that too. You both will fight like petty idiots but it'll probably end up in good sex atleast. What's the loss?
You open your door to go knock on his while you still have your courage but his smug smile and broad shoulders flare up your temper and take your breath away at the same time.
"I knew you'd come, darling. You just can't avoid playing with fire, can you? Can't admit that you I affect you at all, except your obvious attraction which you never shy of. Leaving no weakness in the open."
"What? You my social worker now?"
Ransom laughs but looks at you with pure hunger, just like you very much are looking at him.
"No darling, I just wanna fuck you. You?"
"Same, darling. I just wanna fuck you too."
"You! Hells."
Still laughing, he takes lengthy strides and pulls you in by the neck for another bruising kiss. You don't disappoint either and pull his hair just like you did a minute before. Kissing and biting softly you both stumble to your apartment shutting the door after.
Before you can break off to take your top off, he rips it off.
Oh, so this is how we're playing.
Without hesitation, you tear his t-shirt off backed by your aderaline flow. Moaning and kissing, your hands roam over his chest and abs as you push him inside your bedroom.
"Bed, now."
"Ordering me around, sweetheart?"
"You want me to grab a condom or not? Don't be sarcastic cunt everytime you open your mouth."
"Oh, I'm opening this mouth for your sarcastic cunt tonight. And I doubt you have a condom my size."
"Cocky, are we?"
He smirks and says, "Literally. Check my pants if you doubt."
"Lying doesn-, holy sh-" , he is huge in a I'll-fill-you-just-the-right-size.
Breathing a long one, you say, "Okay, I'm clean and on pill. You?"
"Clean. You sure you want me to fuck you bare?"
Calming your jitters, you fire back, "Who says you're the one fucking?"
"Oh darling, there's no doubt."
Before he can move you grab him the hair and kiss him with tongue. Pushing him on the bed, you straddle him and grind down his length slowly. He breathes out harshly, grabbing your hips and flipping you on your back.
Kissing, biting, nipping, he covers your shoulders and chest and then reaches your glistening pussy.
"Your sarcastic pussy ready, darling?"
"If you don't drop your asshole attitude for a minute, I swear I will tie you to the bed and and ride you till I come but leave you unfinis- oh fuc!"
"Ever tire of threatning people, babe?"
"Fuck y- Ahh, oh godddd."
You back arches off the bed as he licks with no reserves. His lengthy and forceful stokes are making your toes curl as you softly curse grabbing his hair. This whole thing is so intense that you can't think beyond this bloody pleasure. And when you feel so close, you can't help but beg.
"Ransom, please. I'm close! Oh god, yes, there!"
Your breathing turns harsh as your toes dig into the matteress and your back arches higher but Ransom holds down your hips by your thighs, intensifying the pleasure and you come so hard that you're trembling with sheer pleasure.
"No more threats, love?"
So out of it all, that you don't even notice the sliver of gentleness in his tone or his words. Opening your eyes you stare at him and you tell him the first thing that pops in your head.
"Fuck you."
He laughs and shakes his head at your choice of curse.
"Ironically, you are."
"I thought you were the one going to fuck."
He raises an eyebrow still laughing, " You never step back from having the last word, do you?"
"And you clearly like to hear yourself talk, now lay down and let me ride you."
"Oh, we still debating tha-"
Without waiting for him to complete, you kick his shin lightly and push his chest hard enough to send him on his back while he's distracting speaking. Straddling him again, you take his cock in your hands and pump him firmly.
"No, no debate. I am riding you, babe."
You both moan as his cock enters your soaked pussy. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you start moving rhythmically. Panting, moaning, cursing you both move against each other, sweat covering your bodies and tension climbing your veins.
He touches your clit, massaging it slowly, making your eyes roll in the back of your head as you ride him faster and harder. As you explode, you grip his neck softly, clenching your walls around his cock as tight as you can as you bend down to bite his earlobe. He growls and flips you over in a second and slams into your pussy hard and rough. You moan out loud as he streches out your orgasm, still shivering, as he pumps into you chasing his release, you bite his shoulder as you feel him pulse. He comes within a second.
You both catch your breath as he kisses your forehead.
Yeah, sex definitely isn't a bad way to end fight.
More Posts from Artemisthevirginhunter and Others
I gotta say I'm shit at drawing, Christ. Now that I'm posting this, i can't even fucking read what I wrote, fuck me.(or don't, totally a preference)
05 | 22/10/2022
perfect saturday 🌷
Images work a powerful effect on the mind. If we question in our hearts who we are, our minds throw up to our vision an image of ourselves. We seek a picture, a word, a name. We feel we do not know our own feelings unless they are named. And we inherit through culture the very names we give to feelings.
This power of culture over our lives is a power we study and recognize. Kenneth Boulding, a philosopher in the sociology of knowledge, writes: "persons themselves are to a considerable extent what their images make them." And he follows this with another insight, which should be terrifying when we consider the images of men and women in pornography and in the pornographic sensibility. He writes: "people tend to remake themselves in the image which other people have of them."
The philosopher of language Wittgenstein gives us a similar insight. He writes: "The child learns to believe a host of things, i.e., it learns to act according to these beliefs. Bit by bit there forms a system of what is believed, and in that system some things stand unshakably fast and some are more or less liable to shift. What stands fast does so, not because it is intrinsically obvious or convincing; it is rather held fast by what lies around."
This relationship between culture and event has tragic consequences in our lives. In 1972, for example, the surgeon general's report on images of violence on television suggested that a causal relationship exists between an exposure to television violence and a child's participation in more aggressive behavior. For culture and event become one another. In the early twentieth century, a magazine publishes a photograph of a real event, a photograph of a woman political activist being tortured by the czarist police. Now this event, through its publication as a photograph, has become culture. And a young man buys this photograph. He stares at it. He becomes obsessed with it. Later he imagines that he is torturing a woman who has rejected him in the same fashion as this photograph depicts. Finally he actuates these fantasies in ritual tortures as a sadomasochist. (We read of his life after he becomes a patient of Wilhelm Stekel.) He makes culture actual.
By this transformation from image to act and act to image, we become imprisoned in a world of mirrors. For we cease to be able to tell illusion from actuality or to distinguish our own natures from the nature we are imagined to have. Thus if we are unhappy, we can find no way out of our dilemma, no door leading us into another world than this world of mirrors. In one mirror we see a photograph of a woman who is tortured. This may be a fictional pose. Or it may be a newspaper reporting an actual event. Or we may witness this event in our own lives. So, gradually, we cease to be able to imagine ourselves as otherwise. Every reflection we see tells us that only cruelty is possi-ble. That violence is inevitable. We are trapped by our own minds.
In this way culture becomes like a web that is invisible to our eyes, made up strand by strand of image and word, each strand becoming more powerful through the existence of the other strands. But we do not see any of the strands. We do not examine our assumptions, our choices, our decisions: Rather, they fade into the background for us. And we confuse them with ourselves and with nature.
So if an image turns into an act, we do not perceive this transformation as having taken place. Rather, we say to ourselves that the image has accurately predicted the future. And if a pornographic fantasy becomes an event, we say that pornography has truthfully portrayed sexuality. And finally, when we read that a man is convicted of kidnapping and "brutally" murdering an adolescent girl "to fulfill a bizarre sexual fantasy," we do not come to understand that the pornographic imagination can lead to actual murder. We do not suspect, as we ought to suspect, that pornography endangers our lives.
-Susan Griffin, Pornography and Silence: Culture’s Revenge Against Nature
...like antennas to heaven
link to the full image
«At the Internet Archive, this is how we digitize a book. We never destroy a book by cutting off its binding. Instead, we digitize it the hard way—one page at a time. We use the Scribe, a book scanner our engineers invented, along with the software that it runs. Our scanning centers are located in universities and libraries around the world, from Boston Public Library to the University of Toronto to the Wellcome Library and beyond. Eliza is one of our fastest and most accurate scanners. Next she will execute quality control checks and fix any errors. Then she ships the book back to our Physical Archive for long-term preservation. Now imagine this: scanners like Eliza have done this 2,000,000 times. That’s what it takes to provide you with a free digital library.» – Plus Internet Archive’s Modern Book Collection Now Tops 2 Million Volumes, by Chris Freeland, February 3, 2021
♥
Klaus: So guys?
Luther: Klaus? Why are you wearing a suit?
Diego: Now you're going straight?
Lila: (looking at victor) Was that hetrophobic?
Victor(sighing): There is no such term lila.
Five: Why don't you bunch of assholes let him complete his question?
Klaus: We need to drive to the cemetery?
Ben: And? You want us to vote or some shit?
Allison:(at once with Ben) I thought you weren't afraid of ghosts, drive him.
*Ben and Allison glare at each other.
*Five pinches his nose.
Klaus: Not ghosts, no. I'm just high?
Luther: Why are you talking in questions?
Five: Fuck the traditional way. I'm teleporting, Delores.
@regnum-lab Okay, so this has been in discussions a long time and i had to write my views. The thing is that often theories (especially the conflict theories) in criminology mention how law is made to either suit the standards of those already in power or the powerful ones easily evade the law causing the ones with lesser power to have a higher conviction rate.
So technically Will Smith had good intentions but wrong way of acting on it. Yes, tasteless jokes have become quite the culture and it's only fair to feel offended if it makes you vulnerable, so Chris Rock needed to apologise, but slapping him on stage in front of so many celebrities and viewers was a little overboard. Will Smith was wrong to have physically abused someone who could've been reasoned with in a firm manner. He did do wrong but unlike the white guys, he'd possibly pay for it too and probably more harshly than a white guy would- and that is maddening. Not his conviction- but the evasion from conviction by those who have been in power for so long.
so the academy is reviewing whether or not to remove Will Smith’s award and here are some interesting tweets about that :)
Someone I knew- an acquaintance, died today. I was indifferent to his existence, we all are to most people we casually encounter but it's hard to be entirely indifferent to their death too. You feel for the the possibility of life they could've had, you feel for the sorrow of those who knew them, you feel anxieties and hopelessness of those who were left behind with a hole in their daily lives because of that death. You feel the utter despair even if just for a second. I am not surprised that I did too, even if just for a few minutes as the realness of the moment hit me at once and overwhelmed my mind. I cried, a little but I did and I had no control over it. It's the origin of that burst of grief from within- the heartbreak for the family of that cold dead body being mourned now, the heartbreak of the good and bad that person was being everyday of their life but will be no more, the heartbreak for the cries and heartache that isn't even mine.
Here's to the relief of death still being merely an acquaintance to me.
44-45 minutes?!!! That's it?! That's how long the moon knight finale will be?! What the actual fuck, they gonna show anything at all or what? We need a fucking movie for finale!
new lestat edit, i love this diva
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