#ransom thrombey imagine

[deliciousangelfestival]

Every Time You Lie - Ch 7 || Lloyd Hansen

Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.

Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house. 

But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.

Both of them shouldn’t be together.

Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+

Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work.

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

In that moment of revelation, you found yourself frozen, your hands instinctively reaching for Ransom's face as if the touch could erase the weight of his words. 

Once filled with a mischievous spark, his eyes now held a haunted depth that mirrored your heart's turmoil.

"Tell me what happened," you pleaded, the words escaping your lips almost in a whisper, a fragile plea for the truth you feared.

The weight of Ransom's words hung in the air, sinking into your consciousness like a heavy anchor. "Because of drugs," he confessed, and the reality of the situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

In the recesses of your memories, you recalled when Ransom's choice of friends had raised concerns. You, along with Linda and Harlan, had implored him to distance himself from the dangerous circle, a plea that fell on deaf ears. Ransom had always reassured everyone that he wasn't addicted, that he could handle it.

But the past had a way of resurfacing, revealing the cracks in the carefully crafted facade.

Ransom continued, his gaze fixed on a distant point, "One day, after our argument, the police stopped my car. They found drugs in it." 

His voice quivered, a mixture of regret and bitterness coloring the words. "I hired a lawyer, fought the charges, but I still lost. And I knew it was because of your husband."

The revelation struck you like a lightning bolt. The intricate web of events, woven by choices and consequences, tightened its grip around you. 

The realization that Lloyd may have played a role in Ransom's downfall stunned you, a mosaic of emotions playing across your features.

Ransom's eyes bore into yours, “Do you remember?”

"I don't. What happened after that?" you questioned, your voice edging with curiosity and apprehension.

"To be free from jail, my lawyer suggested I go into rehabilitation," Ransom admitted, the bitterness of the past still lingering in his words. "And then my old man, infuriated by the scandal plastered all over the media, decided to ship me off to Europe."

He recounted the harsh reality of his journey—an odyssey of rehabilitation that felt no different from a prison sentence. The inability to return for a year compounded his sense of confinement. 

Yet, amidst the struggles, he found a silver lining—a connection that proved to be surprisingly valuable.

You listened to his story; for you, the time passed quickly, but for him, it had been years. The fear of losing a memory loomed, casting a shadow over the revelation.

Seizing the moment, you asked Ransom, "Do you know the truth about my dad, his company, and my siblings?”

Ransom's nod carried a sense of solemnity, "But, it's for me to tell you."

He turned around, and you instinctively followed his lead. As you both faced the room, a palpable tension hung in the air. 

Your breath caught when a surprise guest entered—the last person you expected. It was your brother, Theo.

******

At Crystal Pharmaceutical L.A Branch 

Lloyd sat restlessly in the dimly lit boardroom, surrounded by his legal team. Tension hung thick in the air as they delved into the intricate details of the pharmacy company's myriad issues.

Lloyd's face contorted with a mix of frustration and disbelief. He clenched his jaw as the weight of the accusations sank in. "Opium and human experiments?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the tense meeting room.

The lawyers exchanged nervous glances, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Sir, the media is running wild with these claims. We need a strategic approach to address these allegations and mitigate the damage to the company's reputation," one of them stammered.

Lloyd leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the distant hum of city traffic. "Find out who's behind this. 

I want names, connections, and every detail about that so-called whistleblower," he commanded, his eyes piercing through the legal team.

As the meeting continued, Lloyd's mind raced, contemplating the potential fallout from these damning revelations. 

He knew that salvaging the company's image would require more than just legal maneuvering; it would demand a meticulous investigation to unveil the truth and clear the company's tarnished name.

The stakes were high, and Lloyd couldn't afford to let the allegations spiral out of control. The challenge ahead seemed daunting, and the fate of the company hung in the balance.

Lloyd leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the intensity in the room. "If one of you works well, I will reward that person with $2 million," he declared, the gravity of his words punctuating the already charged atmosphere. 

A collective gasp filled the room as the legal team absorbed the staggering number.

"Now do your work, before I change my mind," Lloyd asserted with a firm resolve, his voice cutting through the stillness. 

The weight of his announcement settled over the team, prompting a flurry of activity as they refocused on their tasks, driven by the prospect of both professional success and a substantial financial reward. All of them ran to leave the meeting room. 

Alone in the now-empty meeting room, Lloyd's expression hardened. He swiftly reached for his phone and dialed a number, his voice low and decisive. "Burn everything," he commanded. 

Author Note :

Hey friends,

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Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi 🥹💓

#lloyd hansen x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #soft!dark lloyd hansen x y/n #soft!dark lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you

[chrisevansispapi]

SUNRISE

Summary: Ransom fucks reader on the balcony railings of their beachhouse.

Warning: Smut,Daddy Kink,Spit Kink,Breeding Kink and Praising kink.

I was in the balcony enjoying the pure sounds of the waves,and seeing the sun slowly rise.

I suddenly felt big calloused hands on my waist, He places his head on my shoulder, “Morning, baby” Ransom whispered in my ears, his breath still smelling like mint after a long nights sleep.

“Morning,Daddy” I turned my head to kiss him, then I felt his cock twitch on my back, “Come back in Bed” He groans.

“How about we do IT here?” I turned to face him fully,I stretched my arms over the cold railing,smiling with lust, “Are we blessing this house or something?” Ransom chuckled,I shrugged and turned around again and arch my back,shoving my ass to his crotch.

“You’re so fucking hot” Ransom threw his head back, “C’mon,Daddy” I moan teasingly, his hand instantly clawed at the silk robe,I was only wearing my slip,no underwear whatsoever, “my good little whore” he rolled up the hem of the slip to my hips.

He slid off his boxerbriefs, revealing his cock which slapped his bellybutton, “Daddy,c’m-“ Ransom thrusted into me with no warning, “Oh god!” I threw my head back moaning.

Ransom slid in and out of me in a rapid pace, “taking me so- fuck—well” I moan at his praise, he grabs my face and opens my mouth and casually spits in my mouth, “swallow for Daddy” Ransom spoke so smoothly as he thrusted in me,I swallowed his spit and kissed him.

“Mhmmm gonna carry my babies after this” Ransom caresses my ass and slaps it firmly, “Daddy—please” I plead as I clenched around him, “Not yet,baby” He whispered to my ears as I moaned like I was chanting something,whimpering “daddy” like a chant.

I was now flushed,sweating and clenching on his fat cock, his thrusts were now sloppy, “cum with me,baby” He released thick ropes of his cum in me and I was now moaning as I came, “What do you say?” Ransom grabs my face aggressively, “Thank you,Daddy” I said panting, “I love you,baby” He turned me around to face him again, “I love you more,Daddy” Ransom smiled at my words and kissed me,his tongue intertwining with mine, I hummed in the kiss.

He pulls my slip down to cover my bare ass and we turned around to see the sun fully rise, his cum and mine still dripping to my thighs, “Let’s go clean you up and get breakfast” He kissed my temple.

#chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom x y/n #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom smut #ransom thrombrey #ransom thrombey smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom drysdale smut

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Bounce for Me

Pairings | Ransom Drysdale x f!reader

Warnings | smut, dildos, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Ransom being an ass

Word count | 356

Summary | Ransom watches you get yourself ready for him

Masterlist

You whimpered, hips circling over the dildo again before you lifted yourself up with your thighs and sank back down. 

Ransom hummed, lips resting at the rim of his whiskey tumbler, a satiated smirk stretching from one cheek to the other. 

"That's it, honey. Keep goin'." He rumbled, voice low and smooth as silk as he purred at you. "Get that pussy nice an' open f'me." 

You whined into a moan, your hips tilting so the silicone toy nudged that spot deep inside you every time you bounced on it. 

He loved to make displays of you like this, hips bouncing for him and pussy dripping onto his floors - floors that the poor cleaners would have to mop up in the morning. 

Ransom had a stressful day at work, he'd told you upon entering the house, and all he wanted was to see his bunny get nice and wet for him. 

Whilst he sat sipping some overpriced whiskey. Grinning like a fox. 

"Good girl," he hummed, taking another slip. "You keep on goin' until I finish, sweetheart." He added, holding his glass out to you in a mock cheers. 

Your eyes widening, seeing that he still had half of the amber liquid left, you slowed your pace down. 

"Uh uh, sweet cheeks. I didn't tell you to slow down." Ransom chided with a little smirk. 

You groaned, pussy throbbing as you bounced on the dildo. Your clit was on fire, in desperate need of touch but you needed both your hands to balance on the wooden floor. 

"Just a few more minutes, babe." Random called from above you, and you mewled. 

He swirled the last sip around the tumbler, taking his sweet, sweet time in consuming the last drop. 

And when he did, he lowered the glass with a long, refreshed sigh. 

"C'mere, sweetheart." He rumbled, and you swallowed thickly at the sight of his skates, powerful thighs. 

You were in for a long night.

#ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey drysdale #chris evans one shot #chris evans fanfiction

[lost-in-sokovia]

𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝑜𝓂 𝒹𝓇𝓎𝓈𝒹𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

꙳= indicates a drabble

> Love, Insults, and Feminism꙳

> Babe

> Not So Confident꙳

> Hot Boy Summer

> dad!ransom headcanons

> Wanna Play, Ransom?꙳

> Pancake Talk꙳

> Disney Drama꙳

> Welcome to the Family꙳

> Nap Master꙳

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale

[bishopgirl98]

Ransom Drysdale

Deadly Association Series

Part One Part Two

Ransom and Robbins

The Meeting (Prequel) TBD

#ransom drysdale x reader #knives out fanfiction #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale

[lexiawrittings]

special surprise for the holidays

for the first time ever, my request box is officially open : here !

I want for the end of the year to post drabbles, fics or mini-series based on your request during the entire month of December! I will write AUs, dark!stories, fluff , smut.. etc.

anything you can gave me.

Please read the rules and disclaimer before sending me your ask.

RULES;

You can either send me your ideas for a story.

Or, you can use my list of prompt and send me your request via my inbox.

I will write for theses characters :

Steve Rogers and Elijah Mikaelson

But also for Clark Kent and Ransom Drysdale

And all there AU's...

DISCLAIMER;

Please do not request an update on an ongoing story. Everything is on pause for now on.

I also give myself permission to refuse a request that either is not in my alley, or who doesn't gave me inspiration...sorry.

this is my gift fo you! thank you for supporting me, liking, rebbloging and your beautiful comments over the year! I know I'm not consistent with this blog. I'm sorry, but life you know...

Thank you all, I love you 💕 !

Lexia 💖💖

#holidays request #steve rogers x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #steve rogers imagine #elijah mikaelson imagine #steve rogers x you #elijah mikaelson x y/n #a very special surprise #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader

[justalonelyslytherin]

Apologies are hard

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female Reader

Summary: Days after Ransom has recovered from his cold, everything is back to normal. Or at least it should be, but Ransom is distant and acting weird | sequel to Sicknesses

Warnings: fluff, mentions of ransom's shitty family and his bad childhood,

Wordcount: 1.5k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: Divider made by the lovely @/firefly-graphics

It was a couple of days later, Ransom had recovered from his cold and they had gone back to their normal routine, back to the usual lifestyle. At least they tried to. 

Ever since there was a strange air between them and she had noticed Ransom pulling away more than usual. He spent longer at work and even after coming home he would go up to his office again. His touches had gotten less and whenever she tried to get close to him he pulled away as well.

It worried her, made her wonder if she had crossed a line and overstepped if she had upset him while she had only tried to help. It wouldn’t be the first time. Having a relationship with Ransom wasn’t easy and it certainly wasn’t like any other relationship she ever had. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of emotional repressions, and many unhealthy coping mechanisms and toxic behaviors ingrained thanks to his upbringing and grim childhood. She knew that when she agreed to date him, even if he had never openly spoken about it before they had been long past their beginning stages. It hadn’t taken much for her to figure out what was going on. One meeting with his family had been an eye-opener.

There had been some very rough patches, especially in the beginning and shortly after they had moved together. Ransom wasn’t used to such love and affection and he certainly had no clue what a healthy relationship looked like. But he was learning and she tried not to get mad at him. Ever. Instead, she tried to talk to him openly about the things and work through them.

Ransom for sure had a harder time being so open and voicing his thoughts and inner emotions but he always listened to her, even if he played the annoyed brat. He was trying and for that, she loved him even more. All the trying paid off too as he was steadily getting better in it.

The way he had pulled back from her after his small sickness however was concerning for her. Not entirely unusual for him - once again - but still odd. His strange behavior lasted too long. Ransom sulked and he pulled back, that was normal. After a day or two, he would come back, slowly getting closer to her again and reclaiming his old position in their dynamic, most of the time they were even closer afterward. Now, he had been behaving oddly for more than just a day or two and it didn’t seem to wane.

She was standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the two of them while waiting for him to get home. Yet, when she heard the Beemer drive up to the house and park, her heart tightened. While she was happy to see him and have him back home but she was also dreading his reserved and almost cold attitude. She didn’t want to eat in silence anymore like they had the last couple of days, only for him to go up to his office the moment dinner was finished. She didn’t want him to hole himself up there until she had long gone to bed, to fall asleep without him and to almost wake up without him too.

The front door opened and closed with a familiar click echoing through the entrance hall into the kitchen and then there was nothing. No following sounds.

“Ran?” She asked, listening for footsteps, the giggle of his keys, or the rustle of his coat but there was none of that either.

“Ransom?” She asked again, still not getting any response. Deciding to investigate she put the stove on low heat before she walked out of the kitchen. She couldn’t hear Ransom which made her think he might have forgotten something in his car and that he didn’t actually go inside.

Upon rounding the corner into the entryway she stopped. There in front of the door, on the floor before the doormat, stood a big bouquet of roses. Still, no Ransom in sight. It made her suspicious. She crept across the hallway, about to kneel down in front of the flowers when two hands landed on her waist, startling her so bad she might have screamed.

“It’s just me.” Ransom’s voice was close to her ear as he kept her on her feet, pulled flush against his chest to keep her from falling face first into the flowers. Her heart was racing. Actively trying to jump out of her chest.

It took a while but once her heart had calmed down, she tapped his wrist and he let her go. His hands left and she instantly missed them. Even as she turned around.

“What’s that for? What’s going on?” Ransom made a face and groaned quietly.

“They are for you,” he told her, trying to get around from saying the actual words. But she wouldn’t let him get away with it, wouldn’t let him pull back from opening himself anymore. Raising one eyebrow at him she waited.

“Baby,” he whined, put his hands on her waist, and pulled her against him until he had her wrapped up in his arms.

“I’m trying to apologize here,” he grumbled and while it made the corners of her mouth twitch - something he noticed and hopefully raised his eyebrows at - she was quick to look neutral again.

“I haven’t heard you actually say it yet. So right now you are doing a horrible job at apologizing.” She knew he was bad at apologies, he wasn’t used to them at all. Hell, she was pretty sure he never had heard one apology from his family in all his life. But she also knew he could do it and she was there to help him, guiding him with well-meant jabs.

Ransom had other plans however as he leaned towards her and rubbed his nose against hers before he trailed over to her cheek and at last her neck. She stretched her for him, her hands landing on his biceps as he crowded into her space and hid his face in her neck. A small groan came from him, muffled against her skin before he grumbled something else.

“I can’t hear you,” she coaxed, quickly followed by an “Ouch! Did you just bite me?!” He chuckled against her neck, at least until she punched him in the arm.

“Ransom!” Pulling back he looked down at her, a small smirk on his face. The longer he looked at her, however, the more serious he became again.

“I’m sorry,” he cringed at his words but they made her heart race. These two simple words meant the whole world to her. “I am not used to being taken care of.”

“Thank you,” she told him quietly, nearly breathless. Intently he watched her, quiet and overly focused on her reaction. He always did that, gauging her exact reaction every time he apologized, almost as if he feared backlash for it. It was minuscule in his facial expression but she could tell the exact moment, he relaxed and felt even somewhat confident and proud about the apology. It made her heart flutter even more.

Smiling, she embraced him, her arms snaking around his neck. She simply held him and Ransom held her too. His arms went around her waist just moments after, leaning further into the embrace until his head leaned against hers.

“I wasn’t purposefully pulling away,” he mumbled quietly against her hair. She nodded in understanding, “just… didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Do you think you can get used to it?” She asked him. It didn’t take him long to ponder about it before she felt him nod.

“Good. Because I’ll keep looking out for you and I’ll keep caring for you. I love you.” Ransom sighed against her, squeezing her body tighter.

“I love you too.”

He pulled back after that, looking down at her, taking her beauty in and she raised up on her tiptoes and pecked his lips.

“The roses are beautiful,” she told him. Once they had let go of each other she turned around to pick them up. It was a big and heavy bouquet, one she could barely contain in her arms. The smell of them was heavenly.

“You like ‘em?” Ransom asked her, rather casually but with an underlying tone of curiosity and want for praise. One of his arms settled around her waist as he pressed himself against her. It seemed like he was determined to make up for the missed days of intimacy.

“I do. They are perfect.” When she smiled up at him he felt like the world stopped around them.

“Let’s put them into some water. Dinner should be ready too.”

#sly's 200 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you

[recschrisevans]

Ransom Drysdale | recs

🌸fluff 🔥smut 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦family\pregnancy 🏃‍♀️angst 🌚 dark

....

All's well that ends well to end up with - 🔥🏃🏽‍♀️🌚

friends for lovers with a dark touch, a good option and very good and light writing Classification - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #chrisevans #chris evans #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader smut #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombrey #ransom x reader #chris evans series #chris evans headers #chris evans imagines #chris evans imagine #chris evans memes #chris evans reader #chris evans one shot

[holylulusworld]

His maid

Summary: He wants to get his hands on you.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Maid(plussized)!Reader

Warnings: Ransom being an asshole, kinda harassment, I’ll label this one dub-con, maid kink, smut, unprotected sex,light spanking, doggy style, sex over/on a kitchen counter, language, whore, slut, cum dumpster, creampie, slut-shaming, Sir kink, daddy kink, plot twist

A/N: Sweater daddy is back…👀👀

Random snaps his fingers, grunting as Fran ignores him. “Help!” Ransom mutters. “Who’s that?” He points at you standing next to Harlan Thrombey, your new employer. “FRANNIE, I’m talking to you.”

“That’s the new maid, Y/N. She will take over my job for a few weeks. I got to take care of my mother,” Fran rolls her eyes as Ransom undresses you with his eyes. “She’s a nice person. Leave her alone, Hugh.”

“Who asked you,” he bites back. “What a nice little bee landing in my spiderweb.” Ransom smirks darkly. His eyes drift toward your plump ass, and he can’t help it. He roughly cups his crotch.

“HUGH!” Fran can’t believe Ransom sometimes. “You know the word sexual harassment, right?”

“I didn’t think about you, Frannie,” he snickers but drops his hand from his crotch. He will be damned if he doesn’t feel your sweet cunt wrapped around him. So far he seduced all maids Harlan hired. Well, all maids but Fran.

Ransom’s features darken as you run one hand over your skirt to straighten it. He growls low in his throat, already imagining slapping your cheeks with his large hands. “Oh yeah, my chubby little maid. I’ll fuck the sweetness out of you…”

“Fuck,” you exclaim as you drop the broom in your hands. Ransom scared the shit out of you when he sneaked behind you.

“Help, I need you to clean the mess in the guestroom.”

“Mess?”

“Mess. Now, hop-hop, bunny,” he purrs in your ear. Ransom steps even closer, almost pressing his heated body against your smaller frame. “I hate sleeping on dirty sheets.”

“But I just changed the sheets!” there is still so much to do, and you’ve got no time for Ransom’s nonsense. Fran warned you, and she didn’t exaggerate.

“Well, that was before I fucked that sweet bunny last night,” he breathes into your neck. “I hate sleeping on cum and pussy juices, you know. I can still smell her cum. She came so hard on my fingers.”

“If you can’t use your dick right, you have to use what you got,” you quip. Ransom grunts as you grab the broom and make your way toward the kitchen. “I’ll clean your room later. I need to take care of the mess in the kitchen first.”

“No. You will take care of the guestroom first,” Ransom follows you. “Harlan is not around this week. I’m here to take care of the house, and you will do as I say.”

“Harlan wants me to keep the kitchen and bathrooms sparkling clean,” you turn around to size Ransom up. “I will take care of your room later, Sir.”

He inhales sharply. His dick twitches in his pants as you give him a sweet pout. God, how he wants to break your body and mind. “Fine. Have it your way. Be aware I will not forget your insubordination.”

“We are not in the army, Ransom,” you snicker. “You’re not my boss either. Don’t get your thong in a twist.”

“Damnit, she makes me rock-hard that little minx. For weeks she resists me and my dick. I need to have her…”

“Ransom, it’s two in the morning. Why did you call me to come here?” you rub your still-tired eyes as Ransom lets you inside the mansion. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait till later?”

“You did not clean my room,” he lies.

“I did clean the guestroom. I even disinfected the mattress knowing what you did inside with all these women,” you snap at him. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll drive back home and take the day off.”

“I got a new working outfit for you too,” Ransom grins. This can’t be good. “A maid should wear a proper uniform, right? I bought it for you.”

“What? Harlan said it’s fine to wear my normal clothes.”

You follow Ransom inside, already fearing the worst. Ransom buying an outfit for you can’t be good.

“Here it is.” He grins from ear to ear as he holds up two garters. Ransom twirls them around his index finger, smirking darkly. “I got a nice maid uniform for you too.”

“That’s sexual harassment, Ransom!”

“It’s Hugh for the help but,” he steps closer to place the garters in your hands, “I’ll make an acceptation for you, sweetness.”

“I won’t wear this shit,” you drop the garters to the ground. “If you don’t stop, I’ll call Harlan. You know, he won’t be amused hearing you wanted me to wear this!”

You twirl around and stomp toward the door. “I know you will change your mind, bunny. One way or another…”

“Sweetness. My chubby bunny,” Ransom coos as he waltzes into the kitchen. You’re busy scrubbing the kitchen counter and ignore him. “We need to talk about the broken vase in the living room. You know, that was Grandpa’s favorite.”

“What broken vase?” you drop the sponge and turn around to look at Ransom. “Not ten minutes ago there wasn’t a broken vase!”

“I think you forgot you and your plump ass kicked it off the table,” his features darken as you look at him like deer in headlights. “I could tell Harlan it was me, though. If only you give me a reason to do so.”

He holds up the maid outfit and the garters again. “No.”

“It’s only fair, bunny. I’ll give the world to get my hands on you,” he dips his head and looks you up and down. “I want you to wear this and clean the kitchen. Maybe I will help you too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You make a beeline around Ransom to get to the living room. If he fucked with you again, you’ll call Harlan this time.

“No. Why did you do this?” you cry as the vase lies on the ground. Shattered. Broken. “That was Harlan’s favorite!”

“Let me help you, bunny,” he waves the flimsy outfit in front of your face. “Just give in. I know you touched yourself moaning my name. You get off on the way I treat you. I will give you all you need. A thick cock to make you stop overthinking things.”

“If I wear this, will you tell Harlan it was you?” you grab the outfit and garters, swallowing thickly as Ransom purrs your name.

“I’ll tell him it was me if you do as I say tonight, and for the rest of the week.” You shudder, but nod. “You’re such a sweet bunny for me.”

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” Ransom groans loudly as you bend over the kitchen island to scrub it. “Lift your skirt, show me that perfect ass.”

You roll your eyes but lift the short skirt to show Ransom you are wearing the garters. One on each thigh, and nothing else underneath.

“I want you to scrub this counter sparkling clean, maid,” he tuts as you look over your shoulder. “But spread those legs first and show me your cunt.”

“I hate this,” you mutter under your breath, but do as he says. You spread your legs and bend even further to give him a good look at your soaked cunt.

“You love it, little slut,” he steps toward the counter to slap your ass roughly. Your cheeks jiggle and he does it again. “You’re a whore for my cock, just like every other bitch I fucked.”

Ransom grips your ass and roughly kneads your globes. “A hole to get filled with my cum,” he slaps your ass harder, making you cry out. “You’ll take my cock and thank me later after I screwed your brains out.”

“Yes, Sir…” you mumble.

“You will scrub this counter better, slut. I want to eat from the counter. If you can’t clean it properly, you’ll lick it clean with your tongue.”

You harrumph but scrub the counter even harder. It’s a struggle to focus as Ransom kicks his shoes off. You hear his clothes ruffling and his pants drop to the ground.

“Such a nice maid I have,” he grips your hips to press your ass into his crotch. You can feel his cock against your flesh. Pre-cum smears all over your skin, and you quiver as he moves his hands to your chest to rip the blouse you’re wearing open.

Your breasts spill out of the torn fabric, and he immediately cups your plush flesh.

“I knew you are going to be mine,” he purrs in your ear as he harshly tugs at your nipples. You whine as he rolls the pebbled nubs between his skilled fingers.

You hate to admit it, but slick runs down your thighs for Ransom Drysdale. The worst guy you ever met.

“How will you sing when I’m finally inside of you to ruin this pussy. I bet it will be a symphony if you already moan like a bitch in heat when I touch your tits.”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he bites your earlobe, tugging at it while groping your tits. He won’t let up. Ransom grinds his painfully hard cock into your ass, groaning as you push back onto him. “It makes this even hotter. You will take my cock and call me anything I want to. You’re such a slut for me.”

Words are lost on you when Ransom movies his hands toward your hips. “Put your hands on the counter and shut your mouth. Daddy is going to fuck you know and you will love it.”

You bite your lower lip as he guides the tip toward your dripping hole. He teases your entrance with the wide head.

“Beg me.”

He pushes the tip in, only to pull back out. “Beg me!” He warns and slaps your cheek this time. “Slut!”

“Please.”

“You can do better.”

Another slap and another hit your cheek. “Please fuck me.”

“That’s much better,” he runs his hand over your stinging cheek and guides the tip back in. “Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“I need it so bad, Sir.”

Ransom pushes into you completely, ignoring that your walls fight the intrusion of his thick length. He immediately starts to give you shallow thrusts, and slowly pumps into you.

“Now you will move that perfect ass and fuck this slicked cunt on my cock. You won’t stop until you came all over me and milked me dry.”

You place your hands flat on the kitchen counter to brace yourself before you slowly start to move back and forth his length. “Such a good girl, fucking her slutty hole on my cock.”

He slaps your ass again, making you yelp. “Faster, bunny. I want you to sweat a little. We are not here to make love.”

“I’m doing my best,” you pant. “I worked all day, and now you want me to work your cock too.”

“Aw, my little bunny is tired, huh? Maybe you are too tired for an orgasm too. Do you want me to pull out and jerk off? I could cum all over your ass and paint it with my cream.”

“Please. No.”

You move a little faster.

“Faster, bunny,” he grunts and slaps your cheeks with both hands. “I want you to fuck me as if your life depends on it. Come on, do your job. I want you to work harder for me.”

“You don’t even know how to work hard.”

You push back harder onto his cock. “You want me to work this cunt, huh? Really? Cause I will ruin it once you let me have control.”

“Show me, Daddy…”

He makes an odd noise. “You asked for it.”

Ransom grips your hips harder, leaving bruises you will feel in the morning. Right now, you couldn’t care less because he starts to drag you onto his thick cock, making your tits bounce at the force of his thrusts.

He grunts, and curses as your cunt feels snug and warm around his length.

Ransom speeds up as you finally give him what he wanted all along. You moan and scream his name while scratching your nails over the kitchen counter.  

“I will cum inside of you and fill you up with my spunk. When I’m done with you, I’ll take a picture and send it to Harlan. He will see you are nothing but my cum dumpster.”

It doesn’t matter Ransom is the worst. Your body ignores he makes you sick as his cock just feels too good inside of you.

He slams into you, shouting your name as his dick twitches deep within you. Ransom grips your shoulders, holding you down on the kitchen counter as he keeps on moving. “Fucking cum, princess. Now.”

“Yes. Daddy,” you whine as your walls quiver around his softening cock. His cum along with your juices run down your thighs when he pulls out to slap your pussy lips. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bunny. Now spread those legs and let me take a picture…”

“I loved it when you cleaned the kitchen counter in the costume,” Ransom snickers darkly. “What do we want to try next, bunny? I could be your boss and you are my naughty secretary, or how about I’m a plumper and clean your pipes?”

“If you explain to Harlan why I quit, and that I never was his maid in the first place, I consider doing another roleplay.”

Ransom gently kneads the knots out of your shoulders and hums. Your boyfriend is obsessed with roleplays and you are more than eager to encourage his kink.

“I got it! You are a waitress and drop food into my lap. You will ride my dick for punishment…”

Tags in reblog.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #plus-sized reader #His maid #ransom drysdale x female reader #smut #tw: daddy kink #ransom drysdale smut

[deliciousangelfestival]

His Birthday - Ransom Drysdale AU.

Character: husband!Ransom Drysdale x wife! Character, OC! Daughter, OC! son

Theme: SIice of life, Fluff. 

Words: 1,015

A/N: Hi, hi, so I’m feeling somewhat sentimental these days about birthdays, and it inspired me to write a new story for my favorite character, Ransom Drysdale. 

I hope you like it. 

Check out Masterlist if you want to read more fluff stories from the Drysdale family.

For Ransom, it’s nothing special. 

He never had pleasant memories of celebrating his birthday with his parents. 

To be honest, he hates it. 

When he was in elementary school, his parents were always busy. 

If Linda and Richard have time to celebrate Ransom's birthday, all they do is argue in front of their son. 

When Ransom's grandparents and great-grandmother threw a party for him, he didn’t like it because he was jealous of hearing stories from his classmates when they spent time with their parents.  

Ransom never wants to spend his birthday at Harlan's place again because he hates the pity looks from his 2 uncles and their wives. Especially Jonni, she gave him a stone crystal as his gift to get rid of bad energy. 

He threw away the damn stone to Jonni and said, "Eat shit."

When he became older, he never told anyone about his birthday. His group of friends only knew Ransom wanted to spend all his money at the club. 

He never receives genuine kindness from the people he was hoping for.

He thought, what's the point of celebrating his birthday when nobody gives a shit about him? 

But he changed his opinion about birthdays after he met you. 

Before you admitted feeling for each other, Ransom received a simple cake from you. It was good enough for him. 

After becoming a couple, Ransom starts to open up and be more honest. When you hear his story about being alone on his birthday, you can’t help but shed a tear. 

You hugged him and said, “Don’t worry, Ransom, you won't feel alone anymore.”

You fulfill your promise. 

On his birthday he received a lot of cakes from your mother and her sisters. They are pretty proud of their baking skills. 

He receives so much love from your family. He thought it was enough. 

Thinking back on how he spent his birthday alone compared to now, he learned that good thing will always happen at the right time and with the right person. 

#

But when he became a father. He was overwhelmed by the warmth he got from his kids because Naomi and Felix were more excited about their father's birthday. 

Like today, they are already awake and wake their father when Ransom hasn't fully woken up in the morning.

Ransom felt heavy on his chest. When he woke up, he saw 2 little shadows. 

“Daddy, good morning.”

“Uff. Good morning.” Ransom answered with a heavy breath because his kids rested on his chest. 

“Happy Bwithday, daddy!!!” Both kids attack him with hugs. 

“Thank you.” Ransom held them in his arms tightly. For him, his kids are the greatest gift that he ever got. But then, he saw Naomi holding his toothbrush and Felix wearing his towel. 

"Err, what are you doing?"

"We will help daddy get ready!!!" Naomi excitedly answered while Felix kept nodding his head with whatever his sister said. 

“Daddy, let's go. Mommy make bweakfast and Gwandma send cake fow you.”

Ransom couldn't say no to their cute demand. Naomi and Felix were always excited about his birthday because many gifts and cakes came to their home. 

After both kids were Ransom's face, three went downstairs and saw you arranging breakfast in the dining room.

“Happy Birthday, old man.”

"Thank you my old lady." He always received your warm hug every day, but today he made a wish that he could grow old with you and watch his kids grow up. 

“Mommy.”

“Yes?”

“When evewyone will come?” 

Today, there will be a small-scale Ransom's birthday party in their house. 

“Before lunch everyone would be here.”

“I have the perfect dwess, and I will pick Felix outfit.” Naomi jumped to her feet, so excited that she couldn’t wait to wear the new dress and meet everyone. 

Her excitement is different from her father's. Because Ransom sometimes felt embarrassed because of her and Felix.

Like this, when Linda and Richard arrive, Naomi asks them to greet Ransom with a hug.

“Gwandpa, Gwandma hug daddy and said happy bwithday.”

“Do we have to?” Linda, Richard, and Ransom became tense because, to be honest, their family doesn’t have that affection for each other. 

“Yes.” Naomi and Felix nodded. 

Even though they are not close, they still have the same common. They couldn’t say no to the kids. In the end, Linda and Richard give Ransom an awkward hug. 

When both hugged Ransom, they felt guilty for not being there for his special day. They remembered his disappointed look when they got home. "Happy Birthday, son. We’re sorry for the time that we missed."

"Thanks, father, mother." Ransom was stunned for a moment. He couldn’t believe that his parents' ego was higher than the sky; they would apologize to him. It was a short apology, but it was enough for him. 

“Then kiss.”  Naomi gives an example of her parents, like hugging and kissing Felix's right cheek.

Richard bent down and stroked his grandchildren's hair. “I think a hug is enough, dear.”

When Harlan arrived, Naomi also told her great-grandfather to do the same. Ransom was embarrassed, while Harlan laughed and said, “Only your kids could make you this nervous.”

It was a warm party; Ransom received nonstop birthday wishes from everyone. 

#

At night after the party ends. 

Five of you rest in the living room, exhausted after cleaning the house. 

Rio (the family dog) fell asleep after he destroyed all the birthday decorations. 

Naomi finally fell asleep in your arms after being active after the amount of sugar she ate today. 

While Felix fell asleep in his arms. 

Felix awoke because his father stroked his hair gently. Suddenly he asked, “Daddy… Happy?”

Ransom went silent with that simple question.

Ransom remembered that there was once he didn't want to feel lonely anymore on his next birthday. But it never happened. 

Perhaps God finally granted his wish after he stopped being a jerk and asshole.

Now, he felt grateful for being born. He is filled with bliss and happiness. 

Ransom answered with a smile at Felix and said, "Yes. Daddy is very happy."

#ransom drysdale #knives out au #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom x reader #husband!ransom #ransom drydale x you #ransom imagine #ransom thrombey drysdale #husband!ransom drysdale x wife!reader #dad!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom x y/n #chris evans characters #chris evans

[ronearoundblindly]

The Root of All Ransom (2)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader, Part Two (see previous or series)

Warnings: so. much. cursing. It's all from Ransom's point of view, and since he's a disturbing(ly sexy) asshole, that translates to language. Explicit sexual content (protected and unprotected sex, brief to full detail, oral (m rec), fingering, no kink technically). MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. WC 6k

Summary: Ransom has no idea how to read you and no idea why he wants to so badly.

His mother is too smug about the damn Birkin. She treats it like it really is her own, and it’s pissing Ransom off.

Three Sunday brunches in a row, Linda waltzed into the country club’s restaurant and set it on the table. He narrows his eyes and stares at it in between boring topics she chooses.

“Dear, if you broke up with her—“

“We were never dating,” Ran says flatly, for the umpteenth time this month, and it’s true.

He doesn’t consider Linda’s birthday a date, the overnight at your mansion wasn’t a date, the Kennedy fundraiser wasn’t a date, and the sex in his car afterward was definitely not a date.

Hot though. Hot enough to haunt him just a little. He fantasized once or twice since with whatever nameless booty call, thinking about how your hand slapped the roof of the Beamer while you rode the fuck out of his dick in the backseat. Your head tossed back, your quiet, breathy gasps, drowned in moans he couldn’t contain because, damn, you felt fucking fantastic. Then you just shimmied your dress back over your thighs and called your driver. Condom again, however, so not perfect.

No, you two didn’t date, but shit did you fuck.

“Let it go,” Linda continues more smugly, “and if she’s asked you for it back, then either don’t respond or tell her…well, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you tell her.” His mother drains her mimosa, flagging down a waiter to order more champagne and no more orange juice. “I love this bag, and she gave it away. I would never—“

“It’s her favorite color,” Ran blurts, though he can’t imagine why. His mother won’t care obviously. “Did you know she volunteered for five-hundred hours a year to feel like she earned that?”

“Ransom, dear,” she whispers, leaning forward to pat his tapping hand on the tablecloth, “I understand what work is. You’re the only one of us that doesn’t.”

Ransom sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to avoid saying something distasteful, or rather, more distasteful than what comes out.

“You’re a little old for it, is all.” She pulls her hand away, and he shrugs. “Thought you should know.”

He’s pleased with himself, but Ran also avoids checking his phone again. He’d feel the vibration. You’ve been globetrotting for work, answering texts sporadically at best, and the last message—from over a week ago—said you’d be back in the city today.

He reminds himself that you aren’t dating and that his mother is a cunt.

Linda pours from the fresh bottle of bubbly popped table side.

“Don’t take your sexual frustrations out on me,” she coos over the black rim of her glasses.

Ran simply sneers. “Why not? That’s how I was raised.”

All-in-all, it’s not even among the worst of their brunches. Hatred and spite are par for the Drysdale course. What it does, however, is highlight that you handle his family almost better than Ransom does. That morning after he slept over? You walked back to Thrombey Manor in old boots you got horrifically muddy.

Even with very little sleep, you accompanied him and spoke some more with Harlan about non-profits, wiggling your toes in damp socks while your shoes sat on the porch. Ransom drove off before you even left. Fine by him. He worried you’d get the wrong impression when he awoke spooning you—not tightly, of course—your bed is just smaller than his, that’s all.

He should feel relieved.

Yes, he feels relief that you didn’t make a big thing out of it. He never even texted again until after the romp in his car, so that’s hardly eager. Goodness knows he has no interest in dedicating his abundant free time to someone running a company and volunteering with the needy.

The thought of it is simply awful. His eyes narrow at the Birkin again, wondering absently where you were flying back from and when you might be landing. He thinks about the small pile of condoms once kept in that bag and sips his own drink.

Even if you aren’t dating, the mere whiff of potential sets Linda on edge, much to Ran’s delight. His mother was told by one of her faux-friends that you and Ransom went missing around the same time from the fundraiser, and there’s a new development that kills both Linda and Walt at the same time. He can’t help but rub it in.

“Did you hear Harlan put her in the acknowledgments for the new novel?” He sets down his glass with a shit-eating grin, and Linda pours even more.

He shops until he can’t shop anymore, knowing he won’t drive all the way back downtown from his house if you text, so he kills time spending money. The sun goes down with no vibration from his pocket—well, none from you. Ransom ends with his purchases in the car and his ass parked at an upscale, overpriced bar, a sizable pour of Blue Label sitting on an embossed napkin in front of him, scrolling through his phone.

He refuses to search your name; he gave up on that after seeing one too many news blurbs about your events overseas, always with a different male model, arm-candy type that Ran is convinced you fuck also. If he’s right, shit is he glad you had him wrap up.

In the middle of another boring sunset video of an acquaintance ‘manifesting his chi’ or whatever in Maui, a text attachment from his cousin Meg comes through.

I love her, it says. Are you bringing her to the next book launch?

Ran taps the link, and sure as shit, it’s you.

Actually, it’s a video of you and a fellow entrepreneur passing in the airport, this airport, hugging with the bold letters ‘GIRL POWER’ across the bottom. It was originally posted four hours ago, has been liked by ten thousand random fucking nobodies, and Ransom is goddamn done waiting. He slaps cash down on the bar top and storms out.

He’s been approached by three women and said ‘no’ to all of them in the short time he’s been sitting there. What the fuck are you playing at?

Sure, one of those skanks had buck teeth and one had the worst laugh he’s ever heard, but the third was passable if he’d bent her over. There better be a good fucking reason you’ve ghosted him.

Thing is he hasn’t been an asshole to you; there might not be a woman within fifty square miles that he’s been nicer, too, including his own fucking mother, and you think it’s cool to just…not respond?

That’s fucking rude. Fuck you.

He’s punching the button to ring your flat at the garage entrance before long, and you buzz him up without a word. You’re goddamn home and what? Ignoring him? What a fucking bitch.

Before he can let out some frustration by banging on your door, he realizes it’s cracked open with the latch turned and fully closes it behind him, muttering “hope you get fucking robbed” under his breath.

You’re cooking and on your Bluetooth at the same time, motioning for him to sit at the breakfast table or couch or wherever while you finish talking to someone about—nope, he’s bored. You don’t mention of how he’s imposed without invitation because he’s never set foot in here until now.

Ransom looks around critically.

This building is exclusive beyond belief, and you live on the top floor with vaulted ceilings. That’s about the extent of ‘status’ visible in your surroundings. Not cheap but not custom furnishings dot sizable rooms.

Ran scrunches his nose. Even he can decorate better than this. The food smells fucking delicious, spicy, and warm though.

Linda never cooked. There was furniture he wasn’t allowed on growing up. Then he bought nice things for his own place, and every single chance he got, nearly every time he went to his parent’s house, he made sure to fuck some bimbo on that forbidden furniture.

Ransom sometimes thinks to himself that he is a real piece of work. He already knows he is an actual son of a bitch. Revenge is a dish best served without a towel underneath your sweaty ass.

Your couch is okay. Barely used and still springy when he drops down to the cushions. He’s just scanning the walls when you chirp over the island.

“Hungry?”

He snaps back to attention, opening his arms wide to rest across the back of the couch.

“Yeah.” He’s not actually sure though. He’s hungry and a bit horny and a lot irritated, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He never does. Explaining himself only ever makes Ransom feel childish and judged, so he buys new things and throws others away, buys new people and throws others away, and takes whatever else he wants, just so he doesn’t have to talk.

When all else fails, he drinks instead—which he’s already done—so now, he eats.

Your food is delicious. Ransom takes pride in your abilities and cages your achievement like a feral animal in his heart, smug that he has a good girl wrapped around his finger. He can just drop by. He can not call you, ask how you are, or bother to get to know you after fucking twice. Most importantly, it seems he can avoid talking even during a one-on-one meal with you.

All he says is the food is good, and you launch into a monologue about your mother being a fantastic cook even though your parents both worked full-time. All he does is grunt like he’s listening, and you explain how you meal prep whenever you can because otherwise, you’d have to eat out for every meal.

You hate doing that.

Ransom does that. He’s never thought about whether he loves or hates it.

“Now then,” you add at the end of your little speech, “my ploy has worked. You’ve enjoyed the spoils of my labor—” your smile makes him nervous “—and so you get to do the dishes.”

“Fuck off,” Ran snorts, half-revolted, half-amused. As if he would ever.

“Aw, do you need a trophy for encouragement?” You sweep your hand out to the far wall of the living room and its full shelves. “I have a few to spare.”

“I’m not doing your damn dishes.” He doesn’t know how to go rigid and determined without looking petulant, so he overcompensates by spreading his legs and folding his arms over his chest.

“Hugh, do you even know how to wash up?”

He shifts. “Yes, of course.”

“But you still want a prize?”

Sharp blue eyes find yours, and he nearly growls, “I’m not doing that.”

He should just walk out. He doesn’t have to be here. The door is right fucking there, but he sits completely still.

You lean back and cluck your tongue. “Shame,” you sigh, “I would have done you while you did them.”

And that’s how Ransom Drysdale ends up wrist-deep in sudsy water with your velvet mouth stretched around his dick. No chore has ever held his attention like this or been so fucking distracting.

Your nails pinch at his thigh briefly when he pauses to lean on the sink’s rim, your nose brushing his trimmed hair, your drool running down his sac.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He fishes around in the water with one hand, eyes squeezed tight. There are no more utensils floating about, so he rips out the plug. “Finished. Fuck, let me finish.”

With an obscenely wet noise, you pop his cock out of your mouth and trace your tongue down to his balls.

“Where do you want it?”

“Pussy,” he breathes before your words even register. “Wanna come in your tight pussy.”

You giggle. You actually fucking giggle while getting to your feet, hand stroking him gently—too gently to tip him over—as you rise.

“Dry your hands,” you order.

He does, practically panting in frustration. He could jerk himself for three seconds and be done, he’s that close, but he just clutches the rag that much harder.

“Close the dishwasher.”

Ran kicks that damn thing up so fast—

“Is there a tab inside?”

“Fuck,” he yells, painfully ready to burst. Why he still fucking looks under the sink and actually fucking places that tiny cube in and closes the fucking dishwasher again, Ransom cannot fathom. “I’m gonna destroy you, bitch,” he mutters, but there’s no power behind it, only pure need.

His reward is you, stripped naked beside the couch, open condom in hand, and you roll that shit onto his length at the same time he rushes you back and down to the cushion. Ran’s so strung out he can’t give less of a shit if he hikes your leg up too far or grinds against you too hard. Who fucking cares? He has to come, and you egg him on the whole way.

His hips piston so fast that his glutes are on fire, and he doesn’t fucking care. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, and he doesn’t fucking care.

It’s right when he sees your eyes roll back, right when he hears your low ‘OH, fuck yes’ that Ransom explodes, crying out in the desperate heat of the moment. They are not coherent words. That’s not the problem. The problem is that he fucking babbled without any control whatsoever.

Ran enjoys sex, no doubt, but he can’t remember a time he ever got fucking lost in it. Sure, it felt good, but he didn’t like it.

So he recovers silently, not saying a word before escaping to your bathroom.

It’s sparse. He would hardly know you lived here. Every toiletry is travel-sized and stashed in a cosmetics bag. Peeking out of the bag is a bubble sheet of birth control pills, and for a split-second, he fumes. Once his post-nut brain settles and he remembers all those photos of your ‘dates,’ he calms, not willing to ask you a fucking thing about it. He just wants to know everything so you aren’t interesting anymore. It’d be easier if you bored him, but you fucking do not bore him at all.

He’s got a whole excuse planned when he leaves the bathroom, though it’s for naught.

You’ve changed clothes, something skimpy and casual, something showing off that expanse of skin he did not get to see much this time.

You announce you’re going out to drinks with your head of R&D, a planned thing you didn’t fucking mention once before, but apparently, that bitch has been working so hard and deserves fun. While he—what—deserves to be tricked into cleaning and then kicked out?

Yes. Your actual answer is ‘yes.’

He’s handed his coat with a genuine smile and watches you adjust your boobs in the flouncy top with a giggle. Jesus.

He’s surprised it’s this easy for you, being intimate and then being done, not inviting him to stay. It’s odd. Ransom has known women who don’t cling, women who get off and get lost, and so this should be the same.

It’s not feeling the same; he’s bothered by it.

In the car home, he’s salty about being manipulated. You got him to clean. You got him to work for a decent blowjob, and that is fucking ridiculous. Hot though. Even hotter than you cowgirling in the back of this very vehicle. But why? Was it better because he ‘earned’ it or because you’re just really fucking good at sucking dick?

A tiny voice in his brain tells him to show up again, get more head, test that theory, and he tries not to get hard in the car. He gets home and tries to handle himself. Then he really, really tries to stop thinking about it altogether because, fuck, he just wants to know.

Again, it’s like nothing happened.

You don’t travel nearly as much in the next few weeks but you also do not contact him. Not first anyway because sometime—sometimes—you will respond to his messages. For example, you did answer that you’d be in attendance tonight, but that’s all.

He’s drinking and scoping out his prospects when his phone vibrates. It’s you.

That makes no fucking sense, and it makes even less sense when he reads it.

:Act like you like me.

What the fuck?

He hasn’t even turned all the way around to spot you before you’re right there, leaning down close, you hand petting the sleeve of his blazer.

“Hey” is all you say before you fucking kiss him on the lips, slowly, sweetly, and Ransom neither knows nor understands shit right now. That is an actual kiss. That’s genuine. That’s fucking heavy, and he bristles instantly. He absolutely seizes up at because it feels real and not at all like how you two actually are together.

Ransom’s been thinking about when he can fuck you again, not this, never this, yet his hand still grips at your hip because you’re so close. Your skin is still soft as ever, and your lips still work him up like it’s nothing. He groans into your mouth by accident while thinking of what else your lips do.

Finally, you explain that someone odd has been aggressively hitting on you. He suspects the guy is made up.

“Don’t make me point him out. Just,” you slide you fingers down beneath the lapel of his jacket, “just…thank you, Hugh.”

Fucking gross. You sound so genuine and grateful this his gut goes warm and gooey. This shit works on people? He’s not a god damn fluffer or beard, for fuck’s sake.

Then he does see the guy shooting his shot later in the evening, and he notices you do not and have not had a drink in your hand all night. You’re afraid to because of this prick. That’s even more disgusting to Ransom. Only psychopaths and microdick fuckers should rely on getting a girl drunk or drugged. This guy needs to go.

Ran sees your phone poised in your hand and simply texts “Hallway. Now.” He stands casually and brings his drink with him, catching your look down at the screen before he rounds the corner. Within a count of five you emerge to see him, relief washing over your stressed features until you squeak in shock. He’s pinned you to the wall.

In a low whisper, Ran starts, “tell me if he’s there.”

Your face is a mere inch from his, your eyes wide and darting between his piercing blue gaze and his parted lips.

You glance over his shoulder, your own mouth going slack but saying nothing before another once-over of Ransom’s proximity. Then your focus flickers back and your breath catches.

“He’s—“ but you don’t get to finish.

Ran’s lips crash down to yours. You’re stunned. Fuck, he’s stunned, groping your ass with his free hand and letting you pull him closer by his lapels again. He’s not at all sure you aren’t taking this the wrong way because you whimper after the initial momentum subsides, and you keep going. Isn’t that guy gone yet? Does the perv want a fucking show? Are you even looking?

And suddenly, your hands go rigid and push Ran away. That’s good though. That’s a good sign. You understand that this was just a bit of help from a friend who also hates people who can’t take a fucking hint.

Ransom offers the glass of whiskey he’s kept safe in one hand and smooths your gown with the other.

“You’re welcome,” he grunts.

You just sip at the liquor while composing yourself again. Ran’s never seen that look on your face. Just for an instant, you seem scared, but it’s gone as quickly and that very small, very genuine smile returns, directed at him.

Weeks later and Ran’s been keeping an eye on you at the few events you’ve been in town for. No suspicious assholes but he’s nearly an expert on your body language by now. He’s even more annoyed—no, still just a passing curiosity—that you do not ask him to accompany you as your date and continue to have someone on your arm at any out of town shindigs. He doesn’t understand, and it makes him simultaneously convinced that you must fuck them, too, and that there is no way you also fuck them.

He’s been drinking to suppress a lot of passing curiosity.

What he forgets to do entirely is look for someone to take home later. Doesn’t matter. The contact list is always there at night’s end.

He sees you listening to an older couple by the bar, looking exhausted and bored, but they won’t shut up. You’ve kept hold of an empty champagne flute for ten minutes, unable to even turn and order another in the face of their relentless blabbering.

He grabs around your waist and tucks you to his side, offering his hand in greeting once you take your drink, flashing his ultra-fake, glowing smile.

“Hi, Ransom Drysdale.” He shakes their hands and couldn’t give less of a fuck what their names are. “Wonderful, well, why don’t you two just write a check and shut up? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Hugh,” you sputter over a sip of bubbly, “good lord.”

He’s still staring down the couple who are paralyzed in shock.

He gives a nod. “Seriously, fuck off.”

The woman gasps and clutches her actual fucking pearls while her husband tries a sad defense of her honor or what-the-fuck-ever. Ransom doesn’t care. He just cares that they walk away, and he wins.

Before he even looks at you, he mutters, “you’re welcome,” proudly.

He expects to be chastised, at least a bit, but when he turns and releases his grip on you, you’re simply sipping on champagne, still exhausted.

“You can go home now,” he says, thinking that’ll be some comfort.

Your shoulders sag, and you cover your face with a bejeweled hand. Yellow diamonds. That pleases Ransom. Rings and a bracelet, too. He’s glad you aren’t just half-assing the dress up with a designer gown and nothing else. The clutch you’ve set on the bar beside you is Chanel, and now Ran is plain delighted. That’s multiple trips of retail therapy, that’s you spending that new money, and that looks good on you.

“There’s nothing fucking there,” you mumble. “I’ve been at that apartment a grand total of thirty minutes in the past two weeks.”

“Ah,” he teases, “so Suzie Homemaker doesn’t have any food to cook?”

You wear a guilty smirk. “You’re right. I should go though.”

“Come to my place.”

Ransom’s eyes bug out when he realizes what he’s blurted, but he lets the offer lie.

You stare silently for a long beat, waiting for him to correct himself or throw a lewd comment on the end, but he keeps his cool. Eventually, you pick your clutch up and say, “okay.”

You actively bitch about others in the car, and Ransom is flat-out grinning from ear to ear. It’s perfect. You hate people as much as he does. From the sound of it, you barely tolerate the rest of the regulars on rotation at those stuffy things.

What would that woman who called you ‘a breath of fresh air’ think now? Except this is actually the moment he believes she was right.

He laughs—a real-life, genuine laugh—at the fake speech you practice in the bathroom mirror before accepting an award, the one where you say you’ll melt down the gold in the trophy and use it as a face mask to keep yourself from ending up like the shriveled hags. Ransom adds that they are not all shriveled; some of them have their own trophies shoved up their asses.

You giggle at that.

It’s the first time Ran has made you giggle on purpose, and he likes it even better that way. You continue to rant, stopping yourself just before he ever gets irritated. That ability is a fucking gift, and he appreciates it, too, because very few people can read him well enough to avoid his ire.

He realizes you two have this in common: he can act nice but he doesn’t fucking care to, and you can and do act nice but your caring is wearing thin.

You’re so complimentary of his house. You seem to like the most expensive of his furniture, which makes him want to force you out shopping with him to fill your shitty apartment with things you actually enjoy, but you don’t invade the space with tons of looking, touching, and questions. You don’t argue about leaving your heels by the door. You don’t wait for Ransom to take your coat.

He doesn’t have a guest room. His house is for him, and others can go fuck right off. Normally, no one but him sleeps here, so it’s…disconcerting that Ran is so at ease.

He shows you to the bathroom, sets a plastic-wrapped, new toothbrush on the counter, looks at you, squinting, and then pulls forward three (full-size) skincare products from his neat lineup. He taps them in the order you should use them.

“One, two, three,” he says, cheekily relishing your annoyance at his babying.

That face is cute. You’re trying not to smile, you’re trying to look mad, and it doesn’t fucking work.

With a roll of his eyes, he leaves you to it.

The one thing Ransom is not around you is bored. There are people who try so damn hard, thinking whatever makes them likable is good, but none of it is real. At best, they turn out warped and misunderstood because no one knows fuck-all about them. Everything’s been curated. Everything’s been forced.

That behavior has always been brutally obvious to him. He grew up surrounded by people faking everything about themselves, disingenuous people. Harlan is the only person who did not put on a front for him. They’re the same that way, but his grandfather allows people to play their little games in front of him, using the intrigue in his novels; Ransom simply tells people to fuck off and does whatever he wants.

What occurs to Ran now is you don’t do anything for him. You don’t tailor your behavior to appeal to him in any way, and in fact, you seem to deliberately refuse to be appealing. You’re so obviously uninterested in most of the things Ransom spends his days (and nights) on that he wonders. He rethinks every encounter trying to pinpoint where something changed for you because why else would you pay him any mind whatsoever.

He’s searching for warning signs that you’ve taken this the wrong way. He can’t let you expect something from him.

Expectations are predictable. Predictable is boring. You are not boring.

It should not surprise him that you emerge butt-naked from the bathroom and ask which side you can sleep on. It’s not sexy. It shouldn’t be sexy.

You’re exhausted and get comfortable without fuss, clicking the light off and adjusting the pillow. He thinks it will help prove his point, prove that you think this is a relationship it isn’t, if you say no to sex. It’s clearly a circumstance when normal, boring people use the ol’ “I’m too tired” bit, and if you say that, he’s found his warning sign. Sure, he invited you here, but you’ve misinterpreted the whole deal.

So he turns over to face you, laying on your back, and teases the blunt tip of his middle finger down your body until he reaches between your legs. It’s nothing more than a graze, an exploratory touch with no pressure. When you part your legs slightly, he traces along the seam of you but nothing more. He listens to your breathing change, watches your chest start to rise and fall more urgently, and takes a nipple into his mouth.

What he doesn’t hear is ‘no,’ and Ran’s gut pinches, unsure which reaction he truly wanted out of you.

His standard MO is to keep lazily teasing you until you beg, but he’s not impatient like he usually is. His finger softly catches between your folds, smearing the wetness he finds there all around, over and over, using only enough pressure to push skin, not enough to push inside.

His tongue’s been playing with your pebbled flesh just as slowly, sucking and biting lightly every so often. The teasing finger flicks over your clit, and your legs spread wider. That same whimper from when he kissed you creeps from your throat again, and Ran’s sliding that finger in you so fast.

Those noises—your genuine noises of pleasure—just really fucking get to him.

Your hand dives into his hair to pull him off and up you. This kiss is sloppy but neither hard nor fast. He pumps his finger in languid strokes.

“I don’t have condoms,” he admits, pulling back. He expects to have to go rummage through your Chanel for one, but he's surprised.

“Don’t care,” you gasp, pawing at him to climb on top of you, and he’s fucking thrilled. By now you’re drenched for him, but Ran wants to savor the feel of you all over his bare cock, slippery, tight, and warm like a custom happy ending.

Fuck, it’s nice to feel your tits bounce against his chest. Fuck, do you get handsy in this position.

He’s purposefully dragging his pelvis so you make more noise. He leaves your mouth free and nips at your neck instead, the perfect view down your body whenever he wants.

You grip at his shoulders for leverage, and he feels your hips rocking faster than his to chase your high.

“Hugh, uhh, fuck, Hugh,” you pant, walls tightening like a vice around him.

Ran growls, about to correct you, when you laugh.

You goddamn laugh.

Sure, the joyous sound is broken up by the force of his thrusts, but you’re calling him ‘Hugh’ intentionally to piss him off, in the middle of sex, you bitch.

He hates it. He absolutely hates it. He absolutely is about to come.

You do first, shouting a breathy ‘yes’ that Ran cannot concentrate on because he’s fucking furious. He’s about to erupt like a volcano, all that building pressure shoved to the base of his spine while you were lazily humping. He wishes he’d been pounding into the mattress this whole time instead. Fuck you.

Fuck him. He can’t even take out that frustration on you because he’s there.

Ransom pulls out, raises to his knees, and aims his cum and anger at you. 

Waves of ecstasy roll through him. Spurt after spurt of sticky, white rope glazes your skin until his balls are empty and his whole body is drained of feeling. He can’t even maneuver over your leg before collapsing, arching his back to avoid his own mess, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 

“Shit,” he groans against your sweaty skin, as beautiful to taste as it is to look at.

Your hands cradle his head for a few long seconds as he recovers, but he needs to get up. He needs to go to the bathroom. He needs to not be stuck between your legs or held in your arms for a minute.

He has no words. He has no thoughts. He just has emptiness. It’s far more peaceful than it should be. It’s more peaceful than he deserves.

So once clean, Ransom goes back to bed.

He makes a point to act asleep when you return from the bathroom, and you don’t bother to touch him in any way. That’s good. That’s a good thing, he reminds himself. Slowly, like everything tonight, fatigue overtakes his anger, and Ran falls asleep.

You wake before him in the morning. The bed is already cold beside him, so Ransom has no idea how he ended up being positioned overnight. He thinks he would know if he accidentally spooned you, but he would have thought so last time, too. Your gown and clutch are still in his room, so he expects to find you around. Since you cook, he half-excites at a homemade breakfast until seeing your blank stare over tea.

You’re wearing one of his sweaters, mug warming your hands, curled up on a corner of his couch with your phone by your side. Outside the wall of windows is plain greenery, thin woods that appear lush with leaves.

He likes that view, too. He likes watching you view it. He likes that even though you clearly found things to make you comfortable, you haven’t left an imprint on his space. He likes that you aren’t needy, really, and that you’ll leave soon because you’ll have something to do. 

Ransom doesn’t have to take care of you. He doesn’t have to care.

He’ll never get sick of you when you’re gone this much. There’s a weird benefit in you being admired by—and being slightly intimidating to—his family. You’re Harlan’s neighbor, for fuck’s sake.

He’s been standing, watching you watch out the windows, in his boxers for who knows how long when the doorbell rings. You jump up, an apology on your lips, and scramble to the door.

“Dubois, I told you not to make noise,” you hiss at your driver. You called your own car service to pick you up before Ran even woke up.

“I did text you, ma’am.”

After checking your phone, you sigh. “I see. I’m sorry. I must have missed it. Thank you for bringing these.”

Your driver hands over a garment bag.

“I’ll only be a minute,” you say, but to whom, Ransom isn’t sure.

He eyes you retreating to the bathroom and only turns back when Dubois clears his throat.

“Your paper, sir.”

“Right,” Ran mutters, snatching the bundle away.

You weren’t fucking kidding. You’re out of his room with all your stuff in hand in record time. Dubois dutifully takes whatever you hand him to the waiting car, and you’re left holding his sweater.

“I can have this dry-cleaned and sent back, if you want.”

“That—“ Ransom looks you up and down. You’re in a black pants suit, a pale pink blouse, with the yellow diamond jewelry from last night on again. It works. “—won’t be necessary,” he finishes.

You don’t put your golden heals back on. You carry them to the car while walking down his drive on your tip toes, smiling as Dubois helps you in.

Since it’s right there, Ran puts on the same sweater you just handed him. He can smell your perfume though you weren’t wearing it long. He wonders how the scent didn’t bother him yesterday if it was strong enough to last the whole night.

He finds the one thing you left behind and out of place, a half-drunk tea, and takes it as a sign. You aren’t perfect. That, and you didn’t mention a single other thing than whether or not you should clean his clothing.

He doesn’t know if you’re going to work or to the airport. He doesn’t know where or when he’ll see you next. You didn’t even thank him, but he’s not sure what he wants to be thanked for.

Ransom makes his own drink and sits at the same spot on the couch, his favorite spot, ready to read the paper. He flips through the pages, a sweetly scented sleeve tucked up to his nose while he leans forward.

Nothing interests him until a photo, a photo of you obviously. The announcement is for your charity’s third annual soup kitchen event. You’ve never mentioned it, and it’s two weeks away. Ran’s salty and grumbling into his own mug that you didn’t ask him to participate.

Why don’t you ever ask him to do anything? He’s proven just as useful as whatever pay-by-the-hour model has been out of town. Ran’s been diligent about remaining welcome in most circles, even if he’s not well-liked.

He can spoon soup into a fucking bowl, that’s for damn sure.

So it’s settled. Ransom will go to your event. He’ll just say Harlan asked for the publisher’s presence to be noted. This way, he can keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t burn yourself out on caring for those people, and make sure you don’t give away the shirt off your back simply to please someone.

You’re wrong, and he’s right. That’ll show you. That’ll prove his way is better.

a/n: Hoooo boi. I am ridiculously proud of this but also so exhausted this week...and it's only Monday. I also need you to know that I puttered along and then said these exact words: "Oh, fuck. It's 6K."

[Last Part *Ro is a liar. Just a huge fuckin' liar.* Part Three]

[Main Masterlist]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom smut #fanfic #fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ro answers #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #18+ #18+ fanfic

[biteofcherry]

Happy Wetnessday 💦

Today you have 3 companies and their CEOs wanting to hire you as assistant (and future wife). Which company and CEO do you go with?

Barber Law - Andy Barbers law company that he opened after leaving his ex wife. He has great (and quick) plans for you. You won't be on assistant duty for long. Maybe that's why he's so eager to hire you before the annual summer party? 😏

Blood like Vine - A publishing company founded by Harlan Thrombey and now run by his cocky grandson Ransom Drysdale. He did bring fresh wind into the company and publishing industry. It was fun watching all these business people clutch their pearls when he strut in with his filthy mouth and grand (and successful) ideas but now his new plan is to settle down... at least that plan formed when he first met you at your interview.

GeekGuard - a tech company that specializes in programming and cyber security founded by army vet Jake Jensen. He's awkward but cute and so fond of you that he can't wait to put his 10 step plan to make you his, in motion once you accept his very generous offer. (I used a name randomizer for the company name and it made me chuckle so it's part of the lore now: GeekGuard was a name he often got called in school so he used it as company name)

So who do you choose? No matter who, you'll end up as the CEOs wife sooner or later 😏

xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦

Aaaah, all of these are soooo goood! 🩷 How am I supposed to pick?

Each of these men has something that tempts and lures me. Andy with his soft dom hubby material. Ransom's wit and unlimited access to books. Jake's pure heart and joyous nature.

You know what?

I think I'm going to shock everyone, myself included, but this time I'm picking...

Jakey! 💕

I'm craving some fun, soft, geek to have Star Wars marathons with. We'd definitely both share the enthusiasm for our nieces/nephews and take them on fun trips. With Jake there's a lot of simple sweetness and patience, so I imagine the arguments wouldn't be heated and nasty, but quickly resolved.

The fact he looks like that is definitely a bonus and I'm sure we'd both be dropping terrible, dirty lines 😂 Though I may occasionally try talking him into changing his facial hair. I love him as he is, but perhaps he could be adventurous and shave it off or go for a full beard...

... yk

Not to mention he'd fix my parents' laptop and/or smartphone problems 🤣

Jake wins me this Wetnessday, ha!

P.S: Now that I think about it more, it's really the facial hair that keep me from picking Jake more often. It's purely shallow of me, but I'm really not into that goatee and the bleach blonde 😂 But I'm loving more and more the idea of current looking CEvans with glasses to be Jake.

#Wetnessday Anon #thank you for being a sweet wonder and sending me things! 🩷 #reply #jake jensen

[andydrysdalerogers]

Choose Your Words Carefully ~ Ransom Drysdale

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x F! Reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: After the events of All Grown Up, you are living with your choices and some of the Thrombeys are not happy…

Warnings: degradation (and not in a good way 😏, Smut, angst, Harlen being an absolute ��� and Ransom being Ransom.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

AN: it would be recommended to read the first part to understand. You can read it here

You never really regretted your decision. It was the right one for your career, for your life, for you desires.  Because every night, as promised, Ransom was there to take care of you, worship you, make you feel things you never did with Ben.  That night you called Ransom changed your life.  For the better.

Until you met Walt Thrombey.

When you left Ben and went to Ransom, Ransom introduced you to Harlen.  Harlen was so impressed with your skills, he hired you on the spot to be his editor.  Which of course, Walt took exception to. But you took it, not willing to give Walt the satisfaction of knowing how much he got to you. It seems you were accepted by the rest of the Thrombeys and Drysdales except for Joni, who hated competition, and Walt.

"YN! Why are these manuscripts still here?  I thought my father told you to edit and file." Walt was in your face about the stack of manuscripts that you had just received yesterday.

"Walt, since I'm not done editing, I can't file.  I'll have them done by the end of the week."

"That's simply not good enough Miss YLN.  You may be screwing my nephew, but Harlen makes the rules here."

"How does what I do with Ransom affect my job here?"

"Since he must be fucking you stupid, you may want to hold back so you can get your work done. You are just the flavor of the month after all."  Walt let out a cruel laugh as he walked away.

That one hurt.

You finished up the manuscript you were working on and closed up for the evening.  You kept the tears at bay while you drove.  Once you got to your apartment, you send a message to Ransom.

YN: I don't feel up to decorating tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

You changed into Ransom's white cable knit sweater and some knee-high socks.  Making a simple dinner and picking up a book, you made yourself as small as possible on the couch, not wanting to let your emotions get to you. Your phone rang and you saw it was Ransom calling. You debated letting it roll to voicemail but knew that would lead to consequences later. "Hello?"

Princess, what's the matter?

"Nothing.  I'm just tired."

Stop lying to me Princess.

"I had a bad day with Walt ok. I just want to relax and try to get rid of these feelings," you tell him as you try not to sob, a lone tear finally falling.

YN, what did he tell you?

"It doesn't matter Ransom.  I'll be fine.  I'm just not up to decorating for Christmas.  I'll call later ok?"

Princess, don't shut me out.

"I'm not.  I just need some time."  You hang up and curl back up, wanting to get lost in the book you are reading and not think about your boyfriend's family.

An hour later there is a knock at the door that draws you out of your imagination.  You get up and answer to find Random holding some bags and a tree.  "Ransom?"

"Look, I don't give a shit if you are up to it or not.  You are my Princess and I only want to see you happy.  So, we are going to put up these decorations, I'm going to have my way with you and you tell me what that motherfucker said to you." He puts down the bags.  "I care about you Princess." He kisses you deep and you moan at the intrusion.  "There she is, my Princess."

Ransom sets up the tree as you start to unbox all the decorations he bought.  "How did you get the tree here?"

"I tied it to the top of the Beamer. Hopefully I didn't scratch it."

You pour some scotch for Ransom and a hot chocolate for yourself as you decorate around the apartment.  You sit on the floor looking up at the tree when Ransom throws a blanket near the fireplace, along with a couple of pillows.  "Babe, what are you doing?"

"I'm cold and you are in my sweater so I'm going to lie down next to the fire.  Wanna join me?" His look of pure lust fills your eyes, and you crawl over to him and straddle him as he lays on his back. His fingers dance on your thighs, just below the hem of the sweater.  "Have I told you how much I love this look on you?"

"No, you haven't," you say with a hitch in your breath. He runs his hands from your knees and up to your ass, noticing that you aren't wearing shorts like he assumed, just your panties.

"You've been in your panties this whole time?"  You nod and bite your bottom lip. "Oh Princess, were you hoping that I would show up so I can see you like this?"  You nod again slowly.  "Good."  His hands run up north and feels that you haven't been wearing a bra either.  He groans and pulls on your nipple, earning him an arch of your back and a moan that goes down to his balls.

He pulls you down so he can kiss you deep, his tongue invading your mouth, showing his dominance.  Its what you love about him, that he isn't afraid to play you like a violin.  He flips you over, never letting go of the kiss, at the same time hitching a leg over his hip. You can feel his hard cock through his jeans, rubbing it against your cunt, making your moan even louder.

Ransom hooks your panties and starts to slide them down.  He slides down as well and kisses the inside of your legs, teasing you. "Ransom," you whine.

"Do you want me to stop?  Because whiny girls don't get rewards."  He smiled devilishly at you, knowing that you wanted him. He smacked your thigh and you yelped.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Good girl."  He went back to work, nipping and sucking on your skin until he finally lapped at your clit, hearing a porn worthy moan come from you.  "Is my princess happy now?  Hmm... does she like it when I do this to her?"  He began to suck and lick over your cunt and clit, making you squirm and squeal.

"Baby, please!"  You were trying to wait for permission, to relish in the passion you were feeling.

"What do you want princess?  You want to cum?  Want me to taste you?"  Ransom teased with two fingers before plunging them in and hearing you scream.  He pumped his fingers in faster, listening to the squelching from the amount of moisture in your pussy.  "Cum now princess!"

You released with another scream, and he worked you through your climax.  When you started to calm, he pulled his sweater off of your body, leaving you just in your socks and undressed himself.  "You are so beautiful princess. I'm still happy you came to me after the reunion."

"Didn't have a choice baby.  I couldn't leave your dick even if I tried."  You kissed him hard and nipped at his lip.

"Oh princess, this pussy is still the best in the world." He pushed in slowly, almost too slowly, leaving you needy and wanton.  He finally bottomed out and you just needed him to move.  You tilted your hips up and he started, slow at first until he was pounding in you.  He felt you tighten again.  "C'mon princess, I know you have one more in you, I've seen you give me five our first time."

"Ransom, I'm gonna... gonna..."

"Now YN!"

That did it.  You squeezed his cock so hard in your release that it prompted his, pouring everything into you.  You both were sweating, not just from the pleasure but the heat of the fire as well.  As your breathing slowed, Ransom ran his hand through your hair.  "Tell me what happened."

You explain what Walt had said earlier.  Ransom kept hold of his temper, making sure you didn't feel him tense with anger at what Walt was saying to his girl. He could feel your tension and he just wanted to make you feel better.

"Princess, I'll talk to him ok?  He shouldn't be saying those things to you.  He can eat shit for all I care."

"Don't Ransom.  It will just make it worse." You played with his chest hair as he pulled another blanket on you.  "Let's just stay here in this moment."  You went quiet as you laid on his chest.

"What is it princess?  I know you want to say something."

You sigh and steel yourself.  "I think I'm falling in love with you, Ransom."  You kept your head on his chest and hoped you weren't an idiot.

Ransom smiled.  "I thought you knew that I was already in love with you YN."  He kissed your head.  "I wouldn't have brought the tree if I wasn't."

You finally look at him.  "Really?"

He cupped your face.  "Really.  I love you princess. And I'll do anything to see you keep smiling."

Ransom walked into the library, a determined look on his face.  "Grandpa, can I talk to you?"

"Ransom?  Is everything ok?"

"No, its not.  Did you know that Walt has been saying very insulting things to YN?  Making comments about the fact that she is with me?"

Harlen frowned.  This was news to him and disturbing news at that.  "I wasn't aware.  Is she ok?"

"She was crying in my arms last night.  She loves working for you but she is considering leaving."

"Well, we can't have that."  Harlen rose and looked out the window.  "Do you love her Ransom?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ransom took a defensive pose.

"In this, it matters a great deal."  Harlen smiled.  "You know that I love YN.  She has been the best editor I have ever had and will do anything to keep her.  But I need to know if you are willing to do anything as well."

Ransom could see the wheels turning in his granddad's head.  "Yes, I love her. She's everything to me."

"Good.  That's good.  Because I have an idea."

A few days later, it was Christmas Eve and the family had gathered at the manor.  Ransom made sure to keep you away from Walt and Donna.  They were throwing smug looks at you, knowing you were an invader and probably be gone soon.  They assumed that Ransom would be done with you soon.  You sipped your champagne and made small talk with Linda and Meg.

Harlen approached the middle of the room.  "My dear family, it gives me joy to see you all here tonight, together.  But I have an announcement I would like to make."  The family stilled, wondering what the patriarch would say.  "As you know, I have shifted my focus on writing and left the day-to-day things to Walt and YN.  I've just spoken to our attorneys, and I have decided to stop leading Blood and Wine Publishing."

"Dad, what does that mean?" Walt asked with glee.  He assumed it would leave him in charge of the publishing house and he could finally get rid of you.  He glanced at you, but you remained stoic, your left arm around Ransom's waist.

"It means, son, that I am naming my successor as Editor-In-Chief."  He looked at his family. "I'm leaving the position to my granddaughter."

"What?" The collective question was screeched as eyes swiveled to Meg.  Med who had just started college and had a petrified look on her face.

"You're leaving the position to an 18-year-old?" Linda asked.

"No of course not," Harlen said.  "I'm leaving it to my other granddaughter and my grandson."

Richard laughed.  "You don't have another granddaughter."

"You're right, Richard, my mistake.  I will have another granddaughter in what, Ransom, five months?"

All eyes were on the two of you as you removed your arm from around Ransom's waist and flashed the diamond to the room.  You looked directly at Walt.  "We wanted a spring wedding and May seemed perfect."

"But... how... you slut!" Walt jumped up and Ransom placed himself between the two of you.

"Choose your words wisely Uncle.  Because she is your boss in just a few months."  Ransom gave him a sadistic smile.  "If she lets you keep your job."

Walt stopped with realization that his well being was now in your hands.  You stepped next to Ransom and took his hand. "Linda, Richard, I know this was not how I wanted to tell you about our engagement, but I couldn't be happier with your son.  He is my prince charming."

Ransom looks down at you and leaned over for a passionate kiss.  "Oh princess.  I love you."

"Love you too, my prince."  You smiled at the rest of the family. "I hope this is happy news."  And then you looked at Walt and smirked. "I mean, I guess I was fucked into marriage Walt.  Not so stupid now."

Ransom laughed. The kingdom was theirs and his princess would soon be his queen. Merry Fucking Christmas indeed.

Taglist

@patzammit @texmexdarling @jennmurawski13-writes @firephotogrl74 @slutforchrisjamalevans

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #chris evans #ransom drysdale smut #christmas smut #all grown up #choose your words carefully #knives out au #chris evans character fanfiction

[halfrican-heat]

Ain't Shit (R. Drysdale)

SUMMARY: Set in the Knives Out universe. Ransom wants to be a big happy family and reunite with his girl. But as always, there is more to the story...

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black!OC

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, OOC!Ransom, Toxic relationship, Arguing, Single Mom!OC, Ransom cries lol, Heated discussions, Mentions of cheating (It's Ransom, I mean...), Mentions of character death (canon-compliant), Discussions of sex

A/N: I believe that is everything in the warnings, but please let me know if I missed something. As always, please enjoy. Beta'd by @serpentico and my bf :) -Lyv <3

Song Inspo: Ain't Shit - Doja Cat

Masterlist

“No, Steph, I just don’t see the point of having a rich baby daddy if he’s still gonna behave like a fucking deadbeat,” I complain to my sister, rifling through my purse for my keys. “Like he don’t do shit for his damn son or me.”

I sigh, all I wanted was to get into the house. Not be stuck on the damn porch. A cool breeze flutters around me as I shift the phone to my other ear. I shiver a little, digging through my purse a little faster. I know I had them when I got out the car!

“We tried to warn you, sis. That boy ain’t shit and them Thrombey motherfuckers ain’t nothing to mess with. Marta told me they thought she was fucking the grandaddy, girl.”

“Who, Harlan?” I pause. “Marta’s into that geriatric shit?”

“Bitch, for the right amount of money--”

“Stephania,” I warn teasingly, but she continues.

“--I would be, too! They couldn’t prove it. But if she was fucking that old man, I wouldn’t blame her.”

“But ain’t she just his day nurse?” I ask, cradling the phone on my shoulder.  

I rifle more rigorously through my purse. Where the hell are my keys? 

“Yeah, girl! But they asses can’t imagine someone actually being a decent person ‘cause they’re all crooked as hell. They just assume everyone else is, too.”

I suck my teeth, growing irritated because my keys are still missing. “Fuck, Steph, let me call you back. I can’t find my--”

“Keys?”

The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I suck in a short breath, exhaling as I address my sister again. 

“Steph, let me call you back.”

“Wait! Wa--”

I hang up the phone and drop it in my purse. I turn to face Ransom Drysdale who leans casually against my stair railing, dangling my keys from his finger. A lazy smirk graces his features as he shakes my keys at me tauntingly. 

“You dropped ‘em on your way out of the car. You should really pay attention to your surroundings, kitten.”

His grin is cocky as he tosses my keys in the air and catches them. I keep my gaze impassive, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Ransom, how the hell did you get here?” I ask.

“I drove,” He replies, shrugging. 

“Nig-- Ransom, no. How the hell did you find my house? We don’t exactly share the same area code anymore.”

“Oh,” he replies easily. “Darling, I’m rich. You don’t think I have ways of keeping tabs on my son?”

“Well, you’ve never shown much of an interest in him until now, so…”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, and I feel guilty for a moment. His tone becomes serious as he speaks again. 

“That’s not true, Amalia. Don’t do that.”

“Yeah. Well, Facetime calls aren’t enough, Ransom.”

I snatch my keys from him, quickly opening the door. I intend to slam it behind me, but Ransom shoves his heavy-ass boot in the door. I groan in exasperation, as he follows me inside. I drop my purse on the chair by the door and slip off my shoes. The door shuts quietly behind me. I look back to see Ransom hovering by the door, surveying the space. For a moment, I feel insecure.

My little duplex isn’t much. The living room is modest with nice but inexpensive furniture decorating it. Baby toys are scattered all over the place along with paperwork from my job. A doorway leads directly to the kitchen with a pass-through and barstools. There’s also a little hallway off to the side that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I know it’s not as lavish as Ransom is accustomed to, so I immediately feel defensive over my little home.

But as soon as the insecurity rises, I stomp it down. I did this on my own. Without him. So who gives a fuck what he thinks. After a while, Ransom still has yet to speak.

I sigh, turning my back to him. 

“Take your shoes off if you’re planning on staying.”

I leave Ransom behind, wandering into the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, I find some leftovers from the night before and pop them into the microwave. Ransom takes a seat at one of the barstools as I go back to the fridge, pulling out a jar of Arizona tea. I fill a glass and slide it to him wordlessly. I fill up a glass for myself and lean against the counter furthest from him. The low hum of the microwave fills our otherwise silent environment. 

I size Ransom up, taking in the noticeable changes I see in him. He’s not clean-shaven like he was the last time I saw him. Instead, he has a short, well-maintained beard. His hair is parted to the left and gelled precisely enough to give him a “lightly tousled” look. Very corporate. Very…not Ransom. 

His greenish-blue eyes look dull. I would write it off as the lights not doing his eyes justice if not for the reflective glare he’s leveled his cup with. His eyes have lost that vitality and fire I always admired. Instead, there’s something vulnerable about him right now.

Despite this, his physique has not changed one bit. If anything, he’s been working out more. His shoulders fill out his off-white cable knit sweater, a soft look that contrasts his otherwise muscular frame. The muscles of his jaw tense, and I force myself to take a sip of tea instead of reaching to rest my hand on his face. 

The shrill beep of the microwave startles both of us. I whirl around, spilling a bit of my drink on the floor. 

“Fuck,” I curse, pulling my food from the microwave. 

I set the steaming container and my cup on the counter near Ransom and grab some paper towels. 

“Still clumsy as ever, huh, kitten?”

I scoff, wiping at the small puddle on the floor. Standing up, I trash the damp towel and turn to him with my hand on my hip.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what, kitten?” He shoots back, not missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. Just like that, the pensive, tired man from moments ago has disappeared. In his place is the insufferable man-child I fucked around and had a baby with. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, fishing through my drawer for a fork.

“I can’t see the mother of my son?” He teases. “After all, I never do anything for you or my son, right?”

Though I know he means it to come across lightheartedly, I can hear the edge in his voice. For the second time today, I feel guilty. I didn’t know he heard that. Still, I’m not going back on a damn thing I said. It’s not like I lied.

“It’s the fucking truth, Ransom. If you want me to take it back then you’re shit out of luck.” 

 He presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. I toss the lid from the container aside and shove a bite of pasta into my mouth. Ransom continues with the dramatics, of course. 

“How could you possibly say such a thing to the father of your child?”

He continues to “clutch his pearls”, his mouth agape. I chew slowly, arching my eyebrow at him. 

“Are you done?” 

Ransom huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“You act like I had a choice in the matter. Besides, I didn’t make you leave,” He retorts. “You did that on your own.”

I squint at him, swallowing. 

“You wanna go there, Ransom? You wanna do this right now?”

He twists his mouth, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth. Ransom slides from the barstool and strolls around the living room, shoving his hands in his jeans. 

“Where’s my son?”

“That’s not your business,” I say, taking another bite.

He scoffs, flopping himself on the chair by the door. He fidgets in the seat, shifting to remove a stuffed bear from underneath him. He holds the well-loved toy between his fingers, grimacing before tossing it away.

“My son’s whereabouts are my business, kitten. I’m not asking the world of you to tell me where he is.”

“You’re right, you’re not asking the world of me,” I shrug, pushing my food around the bowl. 

Ransom relaxes in the recliner, a smile stretching across his face. He starts to speak.

“Exactly, I’m glad--”

“But I’m not obligated to answer any of your damn questions. So either tell me what you brought your sorry ass here for or leave.”

Ransom’s blue eyes blaze, anger crossing his features.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, you know that?” He bites back, leaning forward. “Get off your high horse, Amalia. You’re the one that fucked off to Albany without a word.”

“Oh, so you do wanna go there!” I exclaim, rounding the pass-through. “Then let’s fucking do it, Drysdale. I’ve been waiting for this conversation.”

He stands to his full height as I confront him. Ransom is heads above me with his six-foot frame, but that doesn’t intimate me in the slightest. I stand chest to chest with him-- well, chest to midsection-- and talk my shit.

“You were the one that couldn’t keep your dick in your pants to save your life! Two hours before our son was born, where were you?”

Ransom grits his teeth, looking to the side. His stance falters a bit. 

“Yeah, you didn’t think I knew that, did you? Tanya can’t keep her mouth closed for shit. If you gonna sleep around, at least find a bitch that doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Ransom at least has the sense to look guilty for one moment before he schools his features into an impassive glare. He crosses his arms, sneering down at me. 

“I didn’t take you for the sensitive type, Amalia. Mad ‘cause that pregnancy pussy wasn’t hitting like you thought it was?” He mocks.

I laugh incredulously. “You wanna make this about my body while I was carrying your child? You wanna act like you didn’t damn near bust a nut every time you looked at me let alone fucked me? Fine, then let’s talk about where you were one week after your son was born.”

“What the hell are you on about? I was in Boston that entire time.”

I scoff. “Ok. Bet.”

I walk away from him, swiftly moving to snatch my phone from my purse. I tap around for a few minutes before shoving the phone in his face.

“That’s not your ass on a beach in Florida then?”

The picture shows Ransom, clear as day, cuddled up with an overly tanned blonde in Tampa, Florida.

Caught, Ransom pushes the phone out of his face. He drags his hand over his mouth, pacing away from me. He crosses back toward the kitchen as I place my phone in my pocket, turning to him with crossed arms. 

“Cat got your tongue, bitch? Ain’t shit to say now, right?”

“Watch it, Amalia.” He snaps. “Who the hell sent you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re a liar.”

“Yeah, okay I’m a liar. And you’re a fucking runner. What a pair we make,” He says dryly. “But none of this will hold up in court. Especially not against the best lawyers money can buy.”

The implications of his words hang in the air. His words are like a cold bucket of water suddenly being dropped on my head. For a moment, my world freezes. Questions swirl around my brain, bouncing against every nook and cranny. 

Court? He wants to take this to court? Ransom wants to…what? Petition the courts for custody? Why now? Why is he doing this? What does he want with Shiloh?

 I feel my body go cold as numbness seeps into my bones. The air feels static, almost sharp. Like breathing in tiny bits of glass. Then all at once, everything inside of me becomes deathly calm. My eyes meet his, brown and blue clashing as I step toward him. 

“No, but you know what will hold up? Every sleepless fucking night I’ve had taking care of Shiloh. Every bill, every piece of clothing, and every bit of food I buy for that boy. Every moment I’ve spent with that baby since the second he was born will hold up in court.” I say, moving toward him. 

“And if you think I don’t got the receipts to prove it then you got another motherfucking thing coming.”

I stand directly in front of him, my voice lowering as I look up at him. 

“You wanna take this to court? Let’s. Fucking. Do it.”

Ransom stares down at me, his glare impassive. I steel my resolve, refusing to back down. His eyes search mine. I know he wants to call my bluff, but he can’t. Tucking his lips, Ransom finally looks away and sighs. He runs a hand over his face and then through his hair before pacing around the living room again. I wrap my arms around myself.

The coldness in my bones has settled, leaving me rattled and frozen in place. I stare at Ransom’s discarded glass on the counter. 

Half-empty. 

He paces silently. I stand there, continuing to stare into space. A heaviness settles around us as tension strangles the room. Then, Ransom sighs. A deep, heavy sigh laden with fatigue. He drops onto the recliner as if all the fight in him has vanished. He holds his head in his hands, breathing in deeply. 

He exhales and lifts his head to look at me. His elbows are propped on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. The man from earlier returns. The pensive, tired man with creased eyebrows and the entire world on his shoulders. 

I swallow the pity I feel and give him a heated glare, daring him to break the silence. To piss me off further. 

Instead, his eyes swarm with tears. I watch as his face contorts, a broken sob escaping him. He covers his face with his hands, sobbing silently. 

I stand there watching him, frozen. Unsure of how to proceed. Ransom was never very forthcoming with his emotions. For once, I feel out of my depth with him. Do I comfort him? Or do I leave him alone to deal with his feelings? 

The bitch in me wants to tell him to clean himself up and get the fuck out. 

So, I shift awkwardly on my feet. I go back and forth for what seems like forever as he sits in front of me crying. I avoid looking at him, but the sound of his sobs isn’t exactly something I can ignore. I screw up when I take a glance at him, feeling immediately drawn in by the unabashed emotion on display. I feel myself giving in and wanting to succumb to the desire to console him. My resolve starts to crack and then…

Then, he looks up at me with pained, heavy eyes. My heart wrenches in my chest as he mumbles a garbled apology. I cross to him, sliding to the floor just as he crashes into my arms. The weight of his hug nearly knocks me over but I keep myself upright, holding him close to me. Ransom grips me tightly as I stroke his hair, whispering soft reassurances. He buries his face in my neck as apology after apology tumbles from his lips. 

“I’m sorry, Amalia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Were he not sobbing his face off, I might feel vindicated. I deserve this apology after all, right? 

I gently shift his face from my neck, encouraging him to sit up on his own. I smile softly at him as he sniffs, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. I brush away a stray tear, stroking his face. He leans into my touch, giving me an all too familiar look. 

I clear my throat and pull my hand away, wiping it on my pant leg. 

“Ransom, what’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Why are you here?”

I steal a glance at him. He stares intently at me as if weighing his options. He licks his lips before releasing a heavy sigh. 

“Harlan is dead.”

The words come out quietly and quickly. They roll off his tongue as easily as a “hello” or “goodbye”. But these words cause my heart to drop and lead fills my chest. My vision blurs and suddenly I can’t see. I blink the tears away and shake my head, searching his face for a lie. He stares back solemnly, tears leaking from his eyes.

“He…no, that’s not possible! He was just…” I trail off. “No…”

He props his arm up on one knee, dragging his other hand over his face. His head lolls back, resting on the recliner. He sniffs, wiping at his nose. 

“He’s dead, Amalia. Died three days ago.”

My lungs feel as though they’re about to give out. 

“How?” I push out, struggling to keep my emotions at bay. “How did he--”

I cut myself off, pressing a hand to my mouth. Ransom’s mouth presses into a thin line. He hesitates before speaking again. 

“Heart complications.”

I release a heavy breath, my chest caving. My hand presses into my chest, trying o relieve the tightness that has accumulated. His words swirl in my mind as I try to comprehend them. Pressure rises in my head, and I think I’m sobbing but I can’t tell. My body feels foreign-- like it’s no longer mine. Like I’m floating above it. 

He was just here, my brain screams. He was fine. He told me he was fine!

I talked to Harlan all the time. After Shiloh was born, Harlan Thrombey was the only person from that damn family to reach out to me at all. He offered money and moral support. I told him I didn’t want a dime. After all, it was Ransom’s responsibility. Not his.

“I guess I have a habit of cleaning up that boy’s messes,” He had said to me. 

Still, the old man reached out weekly to update me on his health and to facetime with Shiloh. Now and then he still tried to send me cash, but I wouldn’t have it. His constant support meant more to me than his money. He stepped in when I felt like I had no one else in the world and, for that, I am eternally grateful. I had plans to surprise him with a visit next month so he could meet Shiloh in person.

But it’s too late now.

Suddenly, I slam back into my body and find myself wracked with sobs that echo off the walls. The tears tumble from my eyes of their own accord as I shrink into myself, curling into a fetal position. Ransom reaches for me, trying to comfort me. I thrash in his arms and push away from him. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t need it. 

But he won’t give up. Instead, he pulls me closer and cages me between his legs, one propped up with the other stretched out. I scream and I cry and I struggle in his arms. Still, he holds me tighter. Eventually, I tire myself out and slump against his chest. I listen to the familiar thrum of his heartbeat and, against my better judgment, start to relax. One of his hands rests gently but solidly on the back of my head while the other rubs my back. I grip his sweater, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. My sniffles fill the otherwise quiet space as everything suddenly comes to a standstill. 

The subtle rise and fall of his chest reminds me of a time before this. Before Shiloh. Before the arguments and the cheating. Before I ever knew who he truly was. My eyes burn again as a new wave of sadness rushes over me. But I stop myself short, refusing to give in to that pain. I buried it, and I can’t go back. 

There are more important things to deal with now. 

I sit up, untangling myself from Ransom. I feel his stare on me as I wipe my face and tuck my hair behind my ear. I cringe inwardly at how much of a mess I’ve probably made of myself. Self-consciously, I run my fingers through my hair and detangle some of the kinks. If this wig wasn’t laid as fuck, I’m sure it would be crooked and matted by now. I drop my hand to my lap with a sigh and bite my lip, searching for something to say. But for once, my words fail me. So, I settle for silence instead. 

But Ransom has other plans it seems. 

He reaches for the hand resting on my lap and holds it in his. He squeezes lightly and I look at him hesitantly. He smiles softly and releases a quiet breath. His thumb strokes the back of my hand as he looks away from me. He faces the direction of the large window behind the chair. The setting sun shines on his face, giving him a warm glow that highlights the green undertones in his eyes. 

He draws his bottom lip in, running his teeth over it before releasing it. He lets out a short breath and nods to himself slightly. His gaze returns to mine, determined. I frown, uncertain of him. I move to withdraw my hand but he rests his other hand on top of mine. He gazes at me imploringly and this sudden change unnerves me further.

“Ransom, what is it?”

“Kitten, I need you to listen carefully to me,” He starts, his voice low. “Promise you’ll hear me out?”

I remove my hand, choosing to stand. Ransom sighs and stands as well. I cross my arms, arching an eyebrow. 

“What is it,” I repeat. 

He rests his hands on his hips. His head tilts towards me a little as he frowns, his forehead creasing. Then, he crosses his arms and turns away from me for a moment. He faces the window, placing one hand over his mouth. I grow impatient and huff. 

“What the hell is it? What are you not saying!”

Ransom sighs and looks at me over his shoulder. He looks back out of the window before finally turning back to me. He lifts his hands, his palms out toward me. 

“Okay, okay. There’s…Harlan left a will,” He says.

I shake my head, shrugging. 

“Okay, and?”

A hand drops to his hip as he drags the other through his hair. 

“Look, my granddad was incredibly fond of you. He loved Shiloh,” Ransom rambles. “And…and so he wanted to take care of the two of you.”

“Yeah, and I told him that I never wanted his money. That Shiloh was your son and that I would be fine. Y’all know that. He knew that.”

Ransom laughs shortly, shrugging. “He was a stubborn bastard. We all knew that.”

I rub at my temples as the beginnings of a headache rise. 

“Get to the fucking point, please.”

“Fuck, okay. Listen,” He says, exasperated. 

He places his hands on my shoulders and levels me with a deep stare. 

“Amalia. Harlan…he left-- fuck.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “He left half of his estate to you.”

Next Chapter: Bad Reputation

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Banners by: @maysdigitalarts

Title card by Me :)

Backup Blog: @thegirlonhamilton

Masterlist

#Ransom Drysdale x Reader #Ransom Drysdale x Black!Character #Black reader #black writer #my writing #black fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #chris evans #written by me #written by lyv #Ain't Shit - RD #fanfic #black fanfic #ransom drsydale fanfic

[imaginedreamwrite]

ABO Wednesday !

Ransom/daycare! reader please?��🥺🥺

“At least you look presentable today.” Ransom looks you over while keeping his left hand on the steering wheel, casually leaning over to get a good look at you.

“Hello to you too, Ransom.” You run your hands down your mid-thigh fitted skirt, palms brushing against the decorative buttons.

“With all the money I’m shelling out to you, you think you could at least get something designer.” He comments coolly, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Do you want me to come? Because if I wanted to spend all afternoon being insulted I’d go on the internet.” You quip and climb into his vehicle, sinking onto the passengers seat.

“I thought good girls like you didn’t do that.” He fired back and flicks a piece of his hair out of his face before ultimately giving up. “Fuck it, let’s get this over with.”

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Your stockings beneath your skirt keep your legs warm in the cool fall air, and the classic black long sleeve sweater tucked into your skirt is one of the few things you have that isn’t stained with paint from the daycare.

“If you keep up this good girl, demure omega shit-“ Ransom side eyes you, he looks you over from the lined stockings you have beneath your skirt and the long sleeved shirt tucked into the waist, the belt that completes it, and finally to the low boots you wore.

“-than maybe I can pull this off. And get what I deserve.” Ransom averts his gaze and begins pulling away from your apartment building, making the drive to the outskirts of the city to the estate.

The drive is silent, not even the radio to quell the awkwardness and you’re left to your own thoughts for occupation. You think of Ransom and his willingness to do anything for his inheritance, you think of his cousins who are equally as driven.

You wonder if this time they’ll have their dates their simultaneously. The last time you attended, there was only Jacob’s future collegiate athlete who was talking endlessly about the threat of American societal constructs. Something, you imagined, lined up with that particular familial branches ideals.

There was nothing said until Ransom and his Beamer had pulled up the long drive and stopped near the rest of the luxury and expensive vehicles, coming to a short stop. He didn’t hesitate to get out of the vehicle wordlessly, and had only said something to the dogs who had come running up to him.

You had followed suit and got out of the vehicle, closing the door behind you softly. The dogs had barely bothered with you, fixating only on Ransom and his dislike of the beautiful dogs.

“I hope you’re ready.” He motions you with the wave of his hand and you’re already following him when the door slams open and his uncle steps stumbles outside with a cigar between his fingers.

“Ransom.” He curtly addresses him then looks at you. “Same omega huh? That’s new.”

“Walt-“

“Don’t waste your time.” Ransom grabbed your arm and dragged you along with him, up the steps and inside where he finally lets you go.

“Frannie!” Ransom calls for the housekeeper, largely ignoring you while you take in the appearance of this place.

“Mrs. Thrombey,” you finally settle your attention on the elderly woman sitting by the window, “I love your beautiful flowers.”

You don’t think she hears you, or acknowledges you but you’re proven wrong when she smiled small.

After greeting Mrs. Thrombey, your arm is grabbed once more by Ransom who uncouthly drags you with him to the other formal living room, letting you go when you’re in the presence of his family.

“Ransom Drysdale managing to keep the same omega? Are you feeling sick?” Meg quips from her place beside an alpha wherein the tall, dark and handsome alpha sets his hand on her wrist.

“Maybe I’ll take after my father and have a piece of ass on the side.” He sneers and stalks into the living room, taking a seat in a cushioned armchair, leaving you standing alone.

“Ransom!” His mother scolds him and smacks his shoulder as she makes her way toward you, a tight lipped smile on her face. “Y/N, right? You’re a teacher?”

“She’s not a teacher,” Jacob corrects Linda, digging into your very different upbringing and career, “she works at a daycare.”

“A daycare?” Linda trails off, looking back at Ransom. “How…omega-ly of you.”

“I love kids, I like working with kids.” You answer with a shrug, knowing exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to this with Ransom.

“Meg’s alpha is going to be a paediatric doctor.” His aunt Joni boasts, trying to steal the attention off of you and Ransom. “Such a brilliant alpha.”

Only as Joni compliments him, she takes physical appreciation of the younger man.

“Kaitlyn is going to become a volleyball Olympian.” His other aunt boasts about the like-minded girl that’s standing close by Jacob, the two of them stoic.

“If she doesn’t crack under the pressure first.” Ransom mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes at the display of his family.

“What was that Ransom? Did you say something?” The tension in the room grew with every snide comment and attempt to gain the upper hand.

It must’ve been exhausting having to always be on top, to always have to have your best foot forward.

“At least he’s affectionate toward his omega, he makes it believable.” Meg scoffs, and you feel Ransom’s eyes on you again, looking you over.

But, you find that he’s not the only one. There’s two men watching you like you’re a slab of meat they want to devour.

#alpha!ransom drysdale x reader #alpha!Ransom Drysdale x omega!Reader #alpha!Ransom Drysdale x daycare!omega!Reader #arranged marriage #arranged relationship #a/b/o wednesday #a/b/o wednesdays

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned/shown, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.

Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Being free was something he’d never experience after jail. Two years after release, he never felt better. Everything was different. His parents never called him at all, sure they were pissed about losing their will for the house and everything inside. Marta was never mentioned since that happened. Five worthless years with the Thrombey and Drysdale families. 

He was fine after his three years in jail. It was hell, he made a couple friends with just a few punches. Being the most charismatic and asshole, he made himself stand out more and he didn’t fear that. He kept his distance between certain men, almost half of them were murderers like him. But theirs were gruesome. Many of them called him the Amateur Senior Killer.

Just like he said to Detective Blanc, his lawyer got him out of a life sentence. So he spent his time going to bars and meeting women as the usual thing he did since. Linda still had Ransom as her son but she never had the guts to speak to him. She’d send him money if she wanted to. Ransom made some off of things he can’t explain to others.

With a swift push for his front door to open, Ransom stepped in and closed his door roughly. His lights were all on, the orange sunset light-like lights dimmed the home as warm and welcoming. His floor to ceiling windows looked out to the trees and other homes that were all large spaces apart from each other. His was at the end of the road and happened to be one of the most expensive homes there. Boston wasn’t cheap. Though he could afford the house.

And then his phone went off. 

He groans and slips his coat off, dropping it on the head of the couch and digging into his pocket. The third ring was cut off once he pushed the green button on the unknown number.

“Hello?” He blurts into the phone. “Hugh?” A female voice says, Ransom furrows his brows and closes his eyes shut. “Who is this?” He asks. The woman on the other end sighed softly. “It’s me.”

“Who?” He was really getting irritated by the lack of answering the damn ‘who is this’ question. “Y/N.” Ransom turns his head to the corner of the room, brows aching by how long he held them furrowed. He chuckles softly, “Is this the blonde chick? I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not interested anymore.”

“It’s Y/N L/N,” You said into the phone more forcefully. You turn to Hazel who sat on the couch listening to your conversation. You quirked a brow at her. Hazel really wanted to be with this asshole? 

“You?” He asks, sounding surprised yet sounding sarcastic, “Well, it’s been a while.” You look at your fingernails, sucking on the inside of your cheek before grinning sarcastically that he couldn’t see. “It has,” You replied in a monotone. “So... where are you now?” He asks, you slightly turn your head to that question. “In San Francisco.” 

“You’re living in a shit city, you know that, right?” He asks, you slightly laugh. “The city’s nice. So far for 16 years, we’ve been doing pretty good.” 

“How are your parents?”

“What do you care?” You asked, you could tell Ransom was grinning on the other end. Who knew you were feisty these days. Ransom stares out his window, imagining where you’d be standing. Watching across the country to see each other as if you were just a few feet away. Some kind of force pulling you two in. A negative one.

He shrugs, “Just starting a conversation.”

You turn away from your window and stare at the mirror in front of you. Ransom shoves his other hand in his pocket and sighed softly. “How is she?” He wondered. You turned to sit on the edge of your bed, “She’s fine.” Your eyes look down into your lap and your other hand pulls the edge of your shirt.

“She wants to see you.”

Ransom scoffed a laugh, “See me?” By his response, you already knew it was going to be difficult for him to not refuse. It would have to take years for him to accept it. But with the amount of thinking of it, it could change his mind. “She wants to fly over to Boston and-” Ransom chuckles again. “-She wants to visit.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve been a hell of a lot busier than I was 5 years ago. So, sorry to crush a little girl’s dream.” Ransom turns away from the window and heads over to the living room. Ransom then heard you scoff. “Bullshit, you sat on your ass all day and night while your mom shined your damn shoes. I’m guessing you would have some hooker do that now, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t do relationships,” He deadpans. 

“Yeah, after what we did.”

“After what you did,” He replies. Ransom was just about to start pushing your buttons now, so you stood up, “It wasn’t my fault. An asshole like you wants to pop his cherry, not me.” 

“You’re the one who said yes.”

You rolled your eyes, “How much are you willing to do it? Name your price.” Ransom smirks confusingly, he laughs, “You’re that desperate to get rid of her.” You shook your head, “No! I’m doing this for her! Sixteen years and you’re scared to be in the same room with her.”

“I’m not scared of anything, I could care less. My father has been a dick to me since I was born. So why be there for her?”

“You’re her father, Hugh,” You replied, “If anything you’re an asshole.”

“That’s nothing new to me. Try another,” He taunts, you realized how much he loved to hear you shout at him. Like he had a bottle for every argument you had and he could sell those bottles a dollar each and get a couple hundred bucks out of it. It could be some turn-on for him. So you scoffed, “Oh, I have more. I rather not say it while she’s in the other room.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“I didn’t bother her to look up your damn name.”

“She would have the chance now if she knows my name. Not everyone lives a happy life, so tell her her father doesn’t want her around and that she will never see this face.” You inhaled sharply to let out more words till you heard the click of line die. Pulling your cell away, his number disappears and your phone returns to your home screen. A picture of you and Hazel at the park with smiles on your faces. Who knew if you didn’t have smiles on your faces if Ransom was still in your life. His family who were completely crazy and every get-together was a total freak show.

You’d be tugging out your hair every day and night, having to worry about someone who was controlling and only cared about what he had in his bank account. Only cared about getting laid every night at the bar. But if you were with him, maybe rent wouldn’t be this hard for you. You’d probably have a better job than a journalist. Became a writer instead. Wrote about something similar to your daughter’s grandfather’s stories.

Though he no longer existed, the company Blood Like Wine Publishing was given away to a young woman. You believed her name was written in the article years ago when the police closed in on the case and arrested someone from the home. Ransom.

He attempted to murder his own grandfather or have someone take his place murdering Harlan, but didn’t get him far with a blackmail and the killing of their housekeeper. Arson for the small clinic and this was something that shocked you years ago. Ransom was the black sheep of the family, you knew it from the first day you met him. 

A quiet kid at first, but weeks later he became a spoiled asshole who pushed every kid into dark pits. You remembered how many times he got you into trouble when you simply just followed him around like a lost dog. He was suspended almost every week. He was never expelled and the rumors spread that his family threatened the school if they ever did expel the boy.

In high school, he got more quiet. The rude comments never faltered. Every day, his face was always dead stare. For hours, he’d go on about how mad his family was. Ain’t that the truth. Never in your life saw Ransom kill someone. You did think of it but never thought he was that crazy to do so. 

Desperate for money. That’s what he wants and you tried to offer him some just so your daughter could see him for once. You worried if he would threaten her and she’d do something irrational and it’d be his fault. But for the most of it, it would be yours. Letting your daughter stay with him. You would consider being the worst mother in the world. If Ransom doesn’t call back, then there would be bad news for your daughter, Hazel. You figured Ransom would say no and it disgusts you that you called him for an answer you knew he’d say. You open the door to the small living room sharing itself with the kitchen, you realize Hazel was in her room with the light on. You almost forgot about the dinner you planned to make so you pulled out the pasta and began to make macaroni and cheese. 

During the dinner, you two ate at the table and began to finish up until Hazel cleared her throat. “So… did you…?” You peer up at her and softly breathed through your nose. “I…” You began, but the words weren’t ready to come out, but you had to think, “...did, but there was no answer. He might have changed his number.” Hazel looked down at her plate and took a spoonful of pasta. “But I’ll promise you, I’ll show you what Boston looks like.” Hazel was starting to almost pout but she kept her emotions to herself. “Rosie, baby…” You reached for her hand and gently held it. “Your father was not a good person years ago even when I was your age. His family is just as bad. I want to do what you want to do, but I also want to protect you because they never protected me.”

You let go of her hand and sighed. 

Ransom was throwing off his coat after noon and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He picks it up, “Hi, I’m a little busy. Can you call me another time?” He asks. “Mr. Drysdale, you can’t just reject the help.” He smirks and adjusts the phone, “Uh, yeah, I don’t pay for a therapist, my mother did, her money not mine, so I can reject it.”

“That’s not how that works, Ransom. After your release, the judge suggests you look into treatment and coping with your family’s problems with someone who can help you.” Ransom sits down and sighs, “Gwen, I just don’t feel like talking about myself or my family. Fuck them.” Gwen is Ransom’s current therapist after his release and in the first weeks of it, his sessions with her were the worst of his life. He felt like he was forced to talk about everything and he didn’t share a lot of it. Everything was about his family and his grandfather that he didn’t want to talk shit about. 

“I’m assuming something bad came up in your week, Ransom.”

“Fucking ex called me last night about a our daughter wanting to come to Boston, but fuck her.”

“A daughter?” Gwen asks. “Not my kid,” Ransom scoffs. Gwen hums on the other end, “Have you been intimate with this ex?” Ransom drew his head back into those days of high school. “Like a horn-dog.” Gwen responds with a soft okay. Ransom realizes he’s been pushed without thinking, “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“I think we should,” Gwen says, “There may be something to resolve with it.” Ransom shakes his head, “I left her when I was 18 after that I didn’t have any problems. Except my mother flipping over that I have a daughter roaming around but I’m sure that bitch cheated.” Gwen hums again, “We can talk more about this daughter of yours on Thursday. So I’ll set the appointment and I hope you come and drop by, Ransom.”

“I don’t think s–”

“Goodbye.” Ransom stops and the line dies, his hand falls to his thigh and he stares at his phone. His fingers grip the edge of his case and he yells, throwing his phone across the room. “Fuck!” Ransom didn’t know why he got angry, was it the idea of his therapist knowing his daughter is roaming on this earth or that his ex is still alive?

.

You were in the office, typing away on another paper about the ideal of financial planning and it was due in the next day or two. “How’s the paper going?” Charles asks, peering over the small separating walls. You jump at the slightest, “Oh, it’s going well, I just need a couple more sentences and it should be able to go into the papers.” Charles gives you his softest grin of approval, “Fantastic, Eddie will be so pleased.” Charles stayed there until you made your way to the copy machine and printed out the papers. He leaned on the counter. “Are you doing okay?” He asked. You look up to him and pinched your brows inward.

“Yes? Why?”

“I can tell by how tense you are.”

“I’m fine, I just didn’t get enough sleep,” You chuckle it off and staple the papers together. “Maybe you should take the rest of the few hours off then, sweetheart.” You smiled softly at him and shook your head. “I can’t do that.” Charles shrugs, “Not if I say so.” You peer at him. He nods you off, “Go take it off, or allow me to get you some brunch.”

“My lunch break doesn’t start till 12.” Charles takes the papers out of your hand gently and hands them to Susan. “Can you slide these into Eddie’s bin, please?” She nods and walks off with them allowing you to somewhat relax. He gestures. “Come on, I’ll take you to Homeroom.” You follow Charles down to the large parking lot and see his car parked in the Reserved Area. 

He opens the passenger door for you and you politely thank him as he hums and closes the door after you. Charles was always a man with a king heart, you never noticed if he has a wife or his own kids, but you never see a ring on his finger. “Alright,” He sighs, sliding in the driver’s seat. “I hope you like mac and cheese, Homeroom is known to have such good food.” 

You didn’t reject his offer of choice because you were there before but so long ago. You couldn’t help but admire Charles as such a great person you have ever met.

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