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demonangelsworld · 1 year

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Entangled In Him

✨Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x OC! Orianna Wolfe

✨Summary: Orianna and Ransom had an unconventional start to their relationship. Despite this, they still stuck through, pushing past their rough beginnings, Ransom's family, and Orianna’s. They have done things they're not proud of, and their relationship is far from perfect, but she and Ransom know they’ll make it. They don’t know how far it will be tested when Ransom’s grandfather commits suicide the night of his birthday party.

✨Warnings: Bullying, an attempt at manipulation, angst

✨W/C: 2.6k

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Chapter One: How We Started

I take a breath looking up at the building in front of me, Ryder Springs Private Academy. I worked my ass off to ensure I could attend this school and not one of the public schools. It feels good to see the fruits of my labor. This school is my ticket to the start of a better life; I'll make every minute count.

I tighten my grip on my backpack, straighten the skirt of my uniform, and head inside. I hold back my awe at the grandiose entryway. There's a big, plush, red carpet lining the hallway and a staircase to one side. Everything looks expensive and fancy—definitely something I need to get used to.

Some students walk the halls, all wearing the same uniform as I am. Black flats with stockings, a deep blue skirt that goes to the knees, a white blouse, and a tie with the school's crest on it for the girls. Black dress shoes, deep blue pants, a white dress shirt, and the same tie for the boys.

“Hey!” I jump a little as a loud, high-pitched voice breaks me out of my gawking state. Turning, I see a girl my age with dark skin, dreads falling from her head, and a braces-filled smile on her face. “You're the new girl, right? My name is Rio. I'm part of the welcoming committee.” She cheerfully holds her hand out to me.

This girl exudes bubbly happiness. It's nearly overwhelming. How can someone be this happy in high school?

“Yeah, that's me. My name is Orianna.” I shake her hand with a small smile of my own.

“Your name is so pretty! How did your parents think of that?” Rio gushes.

“My mom told me I'm named after my great-grandmother. Your name is pretty too. How did you get yours?” I hum, toying with my backpack strap.

“I was born in Rio; my parents aren't very creative.” Rio laughs. “So, since it's your first day, I was tasked with showing you around and getting you settled before your homeroom begins. Do you have your schedule?”

“Oh, yeah, I do.” I pull the schedule out of my pocket; I was so happy when I saw the skirt had pockets.

I hold it out to her, and she reads it for a moment. “Oh, awesome! We have 6th-period lunch together. Wanna eat with me then?”

“Sure! That sounds great!” I nod with a grin. I know she's just being nice since she's part of the welcoming committee, but maybe I could get to know her and become friends.

“Wonderful! I'll guide you to your locker, then show you around.” Rio hooks her elbow in mine, and we head off into the school.

During my tour, I got to know Rio more; she loves animals and science and hopes to go into conservation. The complete opposite of myself, who loves to write, read, and hopes to become an editor. Rio's parents are prominent advocates against deforestation. They are often in other countries working to replant the forests that have been taken down over the years—leaving her to live with her Grandmother most of the time here in Boston. We had to part ways when the bell rang; after that, it was like any other school day.

Any other school day if you add in stuck-up private school kids. When I got to homeroom, I chose a seat near the front. I hum as I pull out my notebooks and pens, ignoring all the desks with laptops on them surrounding me. I begin writing little notes when I feel someone jabbing at my shoulder. Turning around, I spot a girl with black hair and jade eyes slyly grinning at me, her eyes roaming over my uniform for a moment.

“Yes?” I raise a brow when she doesn’t say anything after a moment.

“Aren’t you the girl that got in on the Thrombey writing scholarship?” The girl asks, fiddling with one of those stupidly gaudy pens with a pom-pom on top.

“Yeah, and?” I prompt again, wondering where this is going. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. Like she’s trying to find my insecurities to tear out, it seems like I met my first private school prep.

“Must be embarrassing, having to come here with just the money from some rich old guy. How did you manage to land that? You sleep with him?” The girl grins conspicuously at me and leans closer. My jaw drops, and my face twists into that disgust. Other girls around her lean close, and I realize what’s happening.

These absolute bitches.

After taking a moment to compose myself, I give them my grin and lean forward. “You really wanna know?” I murmur as quietly as I can. They all eagerly nod, especially the main bitch that started this.

“It’s called dedication and hard work. Something you assholes will never learn. Because you’re nothing but spoiled bitches that will get everything handed to you until the day you die. Now, I suggest you leave me alone before I show you what someone of ‘my standing’ is willing to do to protect myself.” I blow them all a kiss, and the girl’s expressions change to horror or hatred.

The head bitch goes to bark something back, but I turn around and ignore her. Girls like that aren’t worth my time. Soon the teacher walks in and begins class on economics. Despite his presence, I still hear the girls whispering to get my attention.

“Scholarship. Hey, Scholarship. Scholarship!”

Those girls weren’t the only ones to cause me problems and call me that name throughout the day. It’s like they all somehow immediately knew who I am, my status, everything. I must be the only one here on scholarship. That has to be the reason. It was all so annoying, and I had to keep myself in check on more than one occasion. I don’t want to make any more enemies today. I don’t think I could handle any more drama.

I let out a little sigh as I walked into the school's dining hall. Lunch tables scatter the area, most of them already packed. Thankfully I don't hear all the chatter thanks to my earbuds blaring a true crime podcast into my ears instead. I move to the lunch line, going through the motions of grabbing food. Today it's mac n cheese, fruit, and juice. Honestly, I was expecting something a little fancier from this place, but I'm not complaining. A good, hot meal without me having to cook? I'll take it.

I glance around before finally seeing Rio waving frantically, trying to catch my attention. I laugh at her dramatics and make my way over. I focus on my podcast as I walk, ‘...the body was found at the bottom of the steps of the man stalking her for days prior.’

I get entrapped in the story, almost to the table, when someone suddenly backs up right in front of me.

“Shit!” I gasp. I attempt to catch myself as my feet hit their ankles, but it's too late.

My precious mac' n cheese goes right on the person's shirt. They shout something incoherent as I land flat on my face. My head spins a bit from the impact on the floor; carefully, I reach up to check if I broke the skin on my forehead. When I don't feel the blood stickiness, I sigh in relief, only to pause when the laughter begins. The flush of embarrassment immediately makes its way to my cheeks. It's just my luck that I made a fool of myself on the first day.

“Clumsy little bitch.” I hear the person I dumped my food on growl. I scowl at their words and manage to push myself up to my knees. I go to bark back my insult but stop short.

Holy shit, the guy is hot. He glares down at me with icy blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair pushed back on his head. His tie is undone, and a couple of his shirt buttons give the classic 'schools rebel' vibe. Lowering my eyes slightly, I cringe at the enormous yellow stain on his shirt from where my food landed.

He suddenly smirks at me; shit, how long have I been staring at him? “Hit your head too hard? Or are you just checking me out?”

I flush at his words but quickly glare, remembering what he called me. “You fucking wish. Why don't you watch where you're going next time?” I feel a hand on my arm and smile, seeing Rio helping me to my feet.

“I should be saying that to you, scholarship. You ruined my shirt; it probably costs more than whatever hole you live in.” The guy bites out with venom dripping in his tone.

I grunt hearing that little nickname. This guy isn't the first person to have called me that today. I'm tired of being looked down on for getting a little help.

“Do I look like I give a fuck? No. I'm sure your ass can afford to get a new one.” I bare my teeth at him, showing him I won't back down or be ridiculed.

“Ransom, just leave her alone, okay? It wasn't even her fault. Your friend pushed you into her.” Rio murmurs, looking everywhere but him. Does this guy make her nervous? Yeah, he's bigger than the two of us, but he's not scary in the slightest, at least not to me. It takes a lot to scare me.

“My fault, huh? You're really brave to accuse me like that, loner freak.” Ransom shoots his glare over to Rio.

I step in front of Rio, blocking her from his view. “She's not accusing you. She's stating what she saw. Look, I'm sorry for ruining your precious shirt. Now can we move along and get back to lunch? I'm personally rather hungry, and we're losing precious minutes of our free time by arguing over something stupid.”

“Awe, you're hungry, scholarship? Are you so poor that you're not getting enough food at home? Poor thing.” Ransom cooes in a false, overly sweet tone. I roll my eyes, refusing to take his bait, and argue back at him. He chuckles when I say nothing, “Fine, I'll let you run off and finish your lunch, but this isn't over. I want compensation for my shirt.” He wiggles his fingers at me as he struts off with his laughing buddies, “see you later, Scholarship.” I stand there, glaring daggers into his back as Rio tries to pull me away from the scene.

“Orianna, this isn't good. He's the school's trouble kid.” She murmurs when we get over to the table she was sitting at earlier.

“And? I'm not going to let his reputation scare me. He seems to be all bark and no bite.” I scoff. I've met his type a hundred times over. They all think they're big shit until someone pushes back.

“Ori, he's known for getting girls and guys alike to bend at his will. He knows how to manipulate and get his way. I've seen it happen...” Rio looks down with sadness clouding her eyes.

My concern immediately grows, “Rio, did he do something to you?”

Rio immediately shakes her head, “Not me, my ex-girlfriend. He liked her for a while, but she refused him in front of many people and then dated me. I don't know how Ransom did it, but he convinced her to break up with me and get with him. Then he broke up with her in front of the whole school during one of the assemblies. She was so humiliated she moved schools.”

“What a fucking horrible thing to do,” I shake my head a bit. People are horrible. Who would go through all that trouble just to make someone hurt? “Don't worry, I won't let him get to me. Believe me. I've dealt with some fucked up people in my time. I think I can handle a pretentious shitwad like him.”

Rio sends me a small smile, “I hope you're right, Orianna; you seem so nice. You don't deserve to be hurt by him.”

“Thanks, Rio.” I give her a soft smile, and she offers me half her tuna sandwich since I lost my lunch. I grin and happily eat with my new friend.

By the end of the day, I'm feeling the first day of school wear out. If today is just a glimpse of what the year will bring for me, I'm so screwed. Thankfully, I'm a junior, so I only have to deal with this hell for two years instead of four. Then it's off to the bliss of a college education with mature adults, not children like these assholes.

I shut my locker and head out of school, thinking about everything I would need to grab at the market for dinner. I fumble with my bike lock for a moment when I hear the voice from earlier that makes me want to grind my teeth.

“Scholarship!” Ransom yells as he walks over, his friends all laughing a few feet away.

“Hell no, not today,” I mutter under my breath and quickly put in the combination. Quickly tossing on my helmet, I swing my leg over my bike, only for Ransom to grab the handlebar at the last moment.

“Where are you going? Didn't you hear me calling for you?” He frowns down at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Oh, no, I heard. I'm just choosing to ignore you, now hands-off.” I swat at Ransom's hands, and his frown morphs into a scowl.

“You might want to be a little nicer to me, scholarship. I did some digging and saw you got in here purely on the Harlan Thrombey young writers award.” Ransom's scowl turns into a sadistic smirk.

My stomach turns at the sight, but I push away my unease. “And? What about it?” I glance at my watch and wince, “look, can we hurry this up? I got places to be.”

“Well, here's the deal, scholarship.” Ransom lets go of my bike and steps away from me, confidence coming from every pore on him. “Harlan Thrombey is my grandfather.”

“Congratulations?” I stare at him, confused, as I ready myself to ride off again.

Ransom scoffs at me, “Do you know what that means? It means I could have him pull your funding if I wanted to. So, you have to do what I say and when I say it.”

I snicker under my breath, attempting to control the laughter bubbling inside me. Is this asshole serious? He's hilarious! The dam breaks, and I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach.

“What's so funny?! Don't you realize the mess you're in?!” Ransom demands, looking at me incredulously.

“What mess? I'm not scared. I earned that scholarship by proving my worth and hard work. If your grandpa is dumb enough to listen to you and pull my funding, so be it. I'll find somewhere else to go or work my ass off in the public school. I don't have to do shit for you!” I push off on my bike and start heading to the market.

“You still owe me compensation for my shirt!” Ransom yells at me as I ride off.

“MHM, SURE!” I flip him the bird and continue, not even bothering to listen to whatever intelligent come back he thinks off. The spoiled little rich boy really thought he had me cornered. I'm a lot smarter than that, though. A lot smarter than him too.

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deceitfuldevil · 1 year

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Face reveal time!!

I FUCKING MET CHRIS EVANS TODAY!!

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hopefulfangirlblr · 1 year

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💞Chris Evans💞

#chris evans #chrisevans #cevans #cevans edit #christopher robert evans #steve rogers #not another teen movie #chris evans knives out #chris evans sexiest man alive #hot #defending jacob #ransom drysdale #andy barber #jake wyler #jamie lee curtis #chris evans pics

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wolfnprey · 11 months

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buckyismybicycle · 2 years

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cold like this

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Rating: Teen/Mature Tags: Huddling for Warmth, Sexual Tension, Stranded, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Kissing A/N: I wrote 99% of this in 2019 after watching Knives Out. Today, I decide to write the last few sentences, so SORRY if it reads weird. I'm just out here trying to clear my drafts 😬 Summary: No, you did not want a ride from Ransom fucking Drysdale. [AO3 Link]

No, you did not want a ride from Ransom fucking Drysdale. But Harlan looked at you with big bright eyes and his patented smile so what choice did you have but to accept your fate.

“Really, Mr. Thombey, I am perfectly fine to walk to town and ask for a cab,” you tried one more time, putting on your brightest smile.

“For goodness sake, child, how many times must you make me worry about you. My grandson’s not doing anything of importance right now, anyway, I assure you. Ransom!” He calls out.

You knew that. Ransom hasn’t worked a job in his life, guzzling the money out of poor Mr. Thombey like a spoiled brat, and worst of all, he gloated about it. It takes everything in you not to fume just at the sight of him as he walks in the room.

“You called?”

“Yes, Ransom, could you please be a gentleman and offer my lovely assistant a ride into town, it’s terribly cold outside and getting dark.”

Goddammit.

So that’s how you find yourself stuck in a smoking car, several feet off the path with Ransom huffing and puffing, complaining about his “piece of shit car” which was worth more than everything you owned, combined.

Your phone was dead, nothing more than a paperweight in your bag while Ransom had left his at home. Unbelievable that the one time he wasn’t glued to it was the time you needed it. The cold air bit at your skin when he’d gotten out of the car to inspect the damage, and you grimace as he gets back in the car, the heat slowly leaking out of the vehicle. In a matter of minutes, you’re sure that you were both going to freeze.

“I’m going to walk the rest of the way, good luck with your car,” you say flippantly as you reach for the handle.

“Hang on a sec, princess.” He grabs your forearm to stop you. “You’ll fucking freeze out there.”

“So? I’d rather freeze my ass off out there alone than in here with you.”

“Shame, it’s a decent ass,” he snarks back, rolling his eyes. “Look, someone will come along soon enough, let’s just sit tight.” Annoyed to hell, you cross your arms and look out the window at the alarming accumulation of snow. The weather was definitely unexpected, and rare, which is why you weren’t dressed warmly enough in the first place, and there’s a sinking feeling when you realize the cold is seeping in quickly, despite being in the car.

You try to think about a warm, tropical place, about a vacation you’d been dreaming about - nothing but the beach, a warm breeze -

“Here,” Ransom’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You look to see he’s offered you his jacket, leaving him in nothing but his sweater.

“I’m fine,” you respond automatically.

“You’re shivering enough to shake the whole damn car,” he sneers, throwing the jacket on top of you. Loathed to admit it, you did instantly feel warmer, the body heat lingering on the material along with his spicy cologne.

It’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence, and as tired as you were from today’s work, the cold makes it impossible for you to rest. You didn’t complain, since Ransom had given you his coat, it’s not like there was much more either of you could do. What was more surprising was that he had crossed his arms over his chest, and you could see his breath fogging up the window which made you feel bad for taking the coat in the first place. As much of an ass you thought he was, you didn’t need to be his charity case.

“Take your coat back, you’re starting to get cold,” you offer, going to push it off. His arm shoots out across your chest as he holds it against you to keep your warmth in.

“It’s fine, you need it more,” he states. You look at him before pointedly looking down at his arm, still outstretched across your chest. He catches on pretty quickly because he retracts his hand like he’d been burned. “Get in the back.”

“What?”

“Just trust me,” he gripes. And while you think to yourself there is nothing that you would trust Ransom with, his tone is clipped and you don’t necessarily want to be stuck with an even moodier version of him. You try to work out the logistics of how to do it without struggling, so you pull your seat all the way forward before leaning it back and crawling over the console with relative ease, not caring if you scuffed the seat with your shoe. Served him right.

It’s a stretch to get your hand back to the side of the front seat to push the backrest forward again, but soon enough, you were seated, mad that you had to give up the front seat for the cold one in the back. You don’t see how this was supposed to help you.

Without a word, you watch as Ransom twists in his seat, and to your horror, starts climbing in the back too.

“What the hell are you doing?” You blurt out.

“Fucking going for a swim,” he snaps irritably, as his large frame forces him to contort uncomfortably, even with as much space as possible. You curl your legs in and turn away to give him enough space to turn around, rolling your eyes as his ass almost swipes against your face. Could you have been stuck with a more obnoxious person?

“Get over here.”

“What?”

“Did the cold freeze all your brain cells or are you purposely being dense?” He fixes you with a stare. “I said get over here.” You look between his open arms and up to his face, where you’re expecting a smug smirk of sorts.

“Um, no way.”

“Seriously?” He throws his hands up. “I’m trying to save you from getting hypothermia.” You make a noise of disgust before he scooches closer and wraps his arm around your shoulders. As much as you want to flinch and reel back, away from his touch, it’s like an instant warmth spreads down your back. You worry your lip as you debate your options and to your dismay, your traitorous brain decides that it really is in your best interest to lean into Ransom, wrapping his coat tighter around yourself.

“Thought so,” he mutters, his breath close enough that you feel it against your scalp.

“Shut up,” you say, though without much heat. Your body sags, exhausted, against him, and the side that’s pressed to him feels delicious warm. You don’t even really notice that his other arm has come to wrap around you as well.

“You know, it’d be a lot more comfortable if you sat in my lap.”

Jesus Christ.

“Could you stop thinking with your dick for just five minutes,” you bark, ignoring the crick in your neck. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would just simply maneuver you given his strength compared to your smaller frame.

“Ransom,” you say sternly. Even sitting on his legs you only just manage to reach eye-level with him and he cocks an eyebrow at you with his hands still on your thighs.

“Shut up,” he echoes your previous sentiment as he pulls you to his chest, tucking you into his neck while he wraps the jacket around you tightly. The little cocoon soon warms your whole body, and even you had to admit you felt better already. Not that he needed to know. The only problem is that each breath you take stirs something in you - his scent, his warmth, the solid muscle you felt beneath his clothes – they all made you ache with want. To your horror, your body seemed to react against your will and you could feel your resolve crumbling. Trying to stop this from becoming even more awkward, you try to shift enough to squeeze your legs together.

“Stop squirming,” he commands, but even that makes you bite your lip. Were you really that desperate that your body was reacting to Ransom? Stupidly brutish, handsome, arrogant but sexy Ransom? Fuck.

“My leg’s falling asleep,” you lie as you go to lift it. Unfortunately, the cramped space of the car isn’t meant for two adults like this and you nearly topple over. He steadies you with his hands on your hips, bringing your one leg to rest between his. An inaudible gasp leaves your mouth when his thumbs dig into your pelvic bones, and your hands clench down on his shoulders. When he looks up at you, you watch in fascination as his pupils begin to grow.

“Ransom -” You cut yourself off as you realize the blacks of his eyes aren’t the only thing growing. Undeniably, he’s growing hard and you can feel every bit of it against your knee.

“It doesn't mean anything,” he excuses himself quickly. “You kept squirming, it’s just a – a reaction, or whatever.” You don’t argue, just as desperate to keep your predicament to yourself as well. He urges you to settle back down and just the contact, even through layers of clothes, of your sex against his sculpted thigh is enough to make you shiver slightly. At least you could blame it on the cold. Truly, it wasn’t even bothering you anymore since your whole body felt flushed and you were sure that your face was on fire.

Ransom shifts underneath you, his hand reaching between you to adjust himself in his pants, but before you could move back, his hand grazed just lightly across your ever-sensitive area, pulling a low moan from you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he whispers hoarsely.

“It’s just a reaction,” you spit back. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he replies in a voice that sounds all too delighted. You soon know why as he lifts his thigh up underneath you, strong enough to lift you and catch you by surprise. A small cry falls from your lips, and suddenly Ransom is desperate to swallow the sound, one hand coming to grasp the back of your neck, the other snaking under your shirt to the small of your back.

His fingers are cold and cause your skin to break out in goosebumps, though you have no idea why your body is rebelling and kissing him back. It’s almost like your brain and body are disconnected as your hands rake through his coiffed hair, the other running down his face.

“Fuck,” he whispers as you break apart for air, both panting.

“We shouldn’t -”

“To hell with it,” he interrupts before surging back up for another kiss.

“This is wrong,” you try again, though your voice sounds weak, even to you.

“You don’t believe that,” he asserts. “We both knew there was always something. We should’ve done something about it a long time ago.”

“Bullshit,” you hiss, biting his lip to make a point. You delight in the pained groan he emits.“Every fucking instagram post is of you with a new girl, you don’t have the ability to have something with anyone.”

“Are you jealous?” He smirks, aggravating you to no end.

“Fuck, no.”

“You are,” he pushes. “At least a little bit. C’mon, sugar, admit it, we could’ve been great together. Remember when we played soccer as kids? They always had to give the other team an extra player, ‘cause we were that good. Power couple, even as 8-year-olds.”

“And who stopped talking to who?” You stare at him in disbelief. “I wasn’t the one that just suddenly dropped off the face of the earth.”

It’d been years and yet you now realize that maybe, these wounds had never healed. The betrayal and heartbreak that Ransom left you with when he just upped and went, without so much as saying bye.

“As if you would’ve noticed,” he says flatly. “Besides, you were doing just fine without me.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” You push back, the coat slipping off your shoulders, but the anger was plenty enough to keep you warm now.

“Justin,” he practically snarls. “I never thought you were the type of girl to ditch her friends the moment she got a boyfriend, but guess I was wrong about that. Didn’t think you’d miss me, y’know?”

“You - you were the jealous one!” You accuse, flipping it back on him.

“Maybe I was!” He explodes, his eyes wild as a tsunami when he stares up at you. “I wanted to be yours. Your first. I could’ve been everything to you - for you, but you didn’t choose me.”

“You were never an option! You - You’re his grandson, I couldn’t -”

“Well you weren’t fucking working for him when we were fourteen,” he snaps, and you couldn’t argue with that.

“You never fucking asked,” you tell him, voice hoarse. Your breath quickens at the revelation because you two had been right there - in the same spot, dancing around each other. “You never so much as looked at me.” God, how much it had hurt then.

“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” he growls, his fingers digging into your skin when he draws you closer. “I never looked at anyone but you.”

Ransom kissed like he did anything else – extra, over the top, sizzling. You wanted to curse him, but the words are lost against his tongue.

You kiss for what feels like an eternity, and you don’t know if it’s the hunger or unwillingness to actually talk that keeps you both going, but you’re dizzy by the time you part.

“Let me – lemme do it properly,” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard. “Take you on a nice date. Anywhere you want.”

Damn your surfacing feelings, the ones you’d tried to leave behind for years and years. He looks so earnest like this, eyes bright blue as he waits for your answer.

“How about you get me the hell out of this storm first,” you counter, but your voice no longer holds all that resentment, and you both know that this is the start of something new.

#reader fic #another one of those things I will likely never write again but hi hello #rating - teen/m #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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Ransom x reader

Enemies to lovers , bot came from wealthy backgrounds as one is a trust fund (ran) then the other has her life getting good with a buissness outside her family . Why are they enemies at first? Shes admired for not relying on her folks too much as a teen and down to earth , enjoys the finer things as she views them as a reward or gift but ransom Demands that shit they also bicker how shes freinds with people bellow her and she sasses him how he always rely on perks thats petty

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. Plus smut (protected sex) MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. Reader's background/company is ambiguous. Also of note is the 'enemies' portion is quite subtle. WC 4k

The Root of All Ransom, Part One (see series)

There’s new money and then there’s new money.

Ransom loves the smell of new, physical money, and because he spends so much of it, he gets to feel those crisp bills all the time. Sure, his black card gets the same look at a register, but the plastic gets tattered after a while. The metal cards are a nice touch. Hefty. Metal makes a great tapping sound when he’s bored of waiting for a retail worker to do their fucking job and let him leave already. Cash is easiest to toss down and run out. He likes all forms of money. Ransom is diverse that way.

You, however, you are the New Money, the shit that’s a title, the shit that’s been earned, and it reminds him of his mother’s ranting. ‘Self-made’ his ass. Grandpa Harlan never made Linda repay a dime; that’s not a million-dollar loan. That’s good, old-fashioned nepotism. That’s inheritance come early. Old Harlan is Old Money, but New Money You is just as stale.

“She’s a breath of fresh air,” the middle-aged woman beside him coos.

Fucking gross.

Each time Ransom sees you he gets a foul taste in his mouth. His nostrils flair. He can smell the budgeting on you even at a distance. For every one of these events (with swag bags and a charity write-off promise) where you make a speech after receiving an award for whatever—he’s already too bored to listen—Ransom drinks heavily to make it to the end of the night.

He hasn’t given a dime, mind you, but Harlan has, and Linda has. Neither of them ever wants to go hobnob. Linda would but can’t trust Richard at these things, so she sticks to daytime shindigs. Walt is a bumbling, awkward mess, so he can’t represent anything other than why big pharma for every neurosis exists. He’s not welcome. Instead, it falls to nowhere-else-to-be Ransom.

He thought he’d hate the events as much as the company until he found a thick, silver lining: some starry-eyed wannabe is always seated at an adjacent table. Handsome, young Ransom is guaranteed someone to go home with. Bonus points if they give head during the car ride.

Tonight though, he fucks up.

Ransom Drysdale makes the mistake of chatting up your date: your friend, Mariah, from high school who’s in town for the weekend. She’s doing a remarkable impression of a bimbo socialite, and he’s already wasted most of the meal trying to land an unattainable prize—though not a worthwhile prize, obviously.

It’s not his fault; he was at the bar when you and Mariah arrived, so he had no clue.

He expects you to be defensive once you make your way back to the table after your speech and find your friend with him. Ran is sure his reputation precedes him. He looks great in the photo ops just as he looks for great ass. He thinks your smile seems forced until you get closer. All you do is tell them to enjoy themselves.

Mariah here looks like she’s about to drop to her knees under the table, and you’re gonna let her?

You can’t possibly be stupid enough to trust him, can you?

He snorts out a chuckle, thinking you may know your business but you clearly do not know people. He wants to fuck Mariah. Then he really wants Mariah to tell you about fucking him, ad nauseam, hopefully, multiple times. Then he’s not sure whether he’d prefer you want to fuck him or you be mad about him fucking Mariah. He’ll have to wait and see.

“Isn’t she the best,” Mariah tosses out as flippantly as her hair extensions over her exposed shoulders. “I’m surprised she wanted me to come instead of a real date.”

“Sure,” he swigs his whisky quickly, “but then I wouldn’t get you for the evening, too.”

If he’s not mistaken, Mariah just soaked the pretty little thong he can just see the outline of in her tight dress, so Ran lays on a few more easy moves and thinks it’s a done deal.

Alas, he is wrong, and you and your friend leave together smiling while he races to text a booty call to meet at his place in a half-hour.

It’s all very frustrating, and Ransom hates you that much more.

Ransom has two new coats, a half-dozen new shirts, a three-piece suit, three new pairs of shoes, and he’s looking for the piece de resistance: a scarf (or several).

He loves accessories because he loves to change things up. He gets bored extremely easily, and he feels better when he treats himself.

In Hermès, he eyes a few options. He might even bother to get that one for his mother just because it has a few hideous accent colors he knows she’ll hate. Linda will still smile tightly and fake gratitude; it’s the only type of gratitude she knows. He doesn’t find anything for himself though, so he heads to the counter and recognizes the curves of a woman’s backside…in a dress that he’s seen in multiple candid tabloid shots.

How old is that garment? Jesus. Have some pride, woman.

His bored greeting startles you.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you exclaim, hand over your heart, “good to see you again.”

Is it?

“Right,” he grumbles roughly. “What brings you out of your goodie-two-shoes hole this afternoon?”

You seem excited, but in a different way than he’s ever noticed. At events, you are the picture of humility, full of genuine gratitude (and possibly the only reason he knows what that looks like), but this is something else.

The salesman returns with your order and unboxes a Birkin bag for you to inspect.

Now you’re just plain giddy, overjoyed, and vibrating, and Ransom preens a little to see Ms. High-and-Mighty so lowered as to indulge in retail therapy.

That’s a twenty-five thousand dollar bag you’re holding.

“Nice color,” Ransom chides, but he isn’t rewarded with your deterrence. You simply turn to beam at him.

“My favorite!” Your hands return to sweeping over the beautiful pebbled leather. “I had to wait for years—which is fine—“ you quickly add “—but I promised myself I’d do ten hours a week of volunteer work to earn such an extravagance.”

“Are you going to use it?”

You nod without turning back to him.

“Are you going to enjoy it?”

Another saleswoman motions to help him with the scarf he holds, and Ransom says nothing to her but drops his black card on the counter.

“Very much so,” you say quietly, almost like a confession.

“Then what’s so crazy about that?”

You giggle. You actually giggle. You don’t tell him how wrong he is or judge his spending in any way, which is surprising when that’s all those events he knows you from are for—to get him to spend money their way.

Ransom doesn’t know what compels him to stand there with his small purchase and watch while your bag gets squared away. You don’t choose to wear it out of the store, something he finds patently ridiculous because it’s a fucking Birkin and you’re about to walk out of Hermes with it in a box in another bag.

He pushes off the counter to walk out with you, an idea springing up.

“You’ve met my mother, I believe.”

Your polite smile gives nothing away. “Yes, a few times. Very briefly.”

“Her birthday is next month—” he lets an employee open the door for you both “—her sixtieth, allegedly.”

“Oh, well, tell her happy birthday for me.”

“You could come.”

Your face scrunches but whether from his offer or the bright sun on the street, he doesn’t know. His sunglasses are already on. You rummage around in what looks like a tapestry bag on the bad side of vintage for yours.

This is why you should have left using the Birkin, and he’s honestly surprised Hermès even served you looking like you do.

Where’s all that new money now, he thinks, because one bag is certainly not all of it.

“Why not? You both own businesses and run in similar circles.”

“Hugh, I don’t think—“

“Ransom,” he corrects with a sneer.

“Well, I just…” You regard him thoroughly for a long moment until a black car pulls up and its driver opens the door for you.

There it is. There’s a bit of pomp. He’s almost proud to see you being served. You’re just like him—or rather his family—in a way; you have help.

“Fine,” you say to Ransom while nodding to your driver, “text me the details, and I’ll see if I’m in town.” Even though your words are dismissive, they sound genuine and kind.

Yuck.

Your driver fishes a card from his breast pocket and curtly adds a ‘sir,’ before shutting you behind tinted windows.

Ok, so it’s not the easiest ‘yes’ he’s ever gotten. It wasn’t a ‘no’ either. Good news is that Ransom is not holding his breath. If it works, it works.

The idea is to flaunt you in front of Linda, not romantically, of course, but as a younger woman, perceived as better, more self-made, more successful, with a Birkin bag in his mother’s actual favorite color, while he gives her a scarf she’ll be revolted by. It’s perfect.

This did not at all go to plan.

Linda is supposed to be pissed. She’s supposed to be appalled and furious and have to hide that from her guests—which is most of the family, catering staff, and Harlan’s house help. She’s supposed to look at Ransom and know that he did this on purpose.

He told you not to bring a present for a reason, but he made damn sure when he picked you up that you were wearing that damn bag.

How the fuck was he supposed to know you’d go and be the dumbest bitch ever?

Linda got through two whole sentences of greeting after obviously clocking the Birkin and then turned it about her. She’s predictable that way, but you are not.

“That’s my favorite color,” she said.

“Mine too,” you said.

You both fucking laughed.

“I’ve always wanted one,” she said.

“You should have one,” you said.

He should have known right then except for on what planet does someone…

Ransom only stepped out for a few minutes to mess with Walt, smoking that sickening cigar. When he comes back in, there on the table right beside Linda is your bag. He looks around, but you aren’t in the living room. Then his mom smiles and pets the Birkin possessively.

“Oh, Ran, that girl is so sweet,” Linda coos.

Richard snorts in astonishment. “She’s really something.”

Ransom cringes at the lustful leer on his father’s face while he stares off toward the library.

What the shit?

You gave his mother your bag? After one minute of conversation?

God fucking damn it.

He has no words. Ran just purses his lips and stalks off to the other room in search of you. You’re deep in conversation with Harlan, seated across from each other in the bay windows of the library in high-backed upholstered chairs. On the floor beside your foot is a Blood Like Wine tote, partially filled.

“Grandpa,” he interrupts, leaning one arm against your chair with a questioning gaze.

“Ransom, my boy, it’s good to see you.” Before he can get a word in, Harlan waves an arthritis-gnarled hand in your direction. “Have you met my neighbor?”

“Neighbor?”

You shrug with a weak smile. “I purchased the Carlyles’ old property last year but kept my apartment in town.”

He’s thrown off by this news, thinking. “That’s walking distance from here,” Ransom says flatly.

“Yes, it is. That’s why I can find my own way home tonight.”

“Ah,” Harlan taps his nose, “so you two know each other.”

“Your grandson was kind enough to invite me.”

“And you made quite a fucking impression,” Ransom growls while putting a hand on your shoulder.

Harlan flicks Ransom away. “Don’t be creepy, son. Get the lady a drink.”

“Mr. Thrombey, please.” You stand, forcibly pushing his hand off of you. “Ransom’s your family. Why don’t I get you boys something while you catch up?”

“Whiskey, neat, two fingers,” Ransom bitterly spits, shoving the hand in his jean pocket.

Harlan tsks him with a solemn look.

“The same,” his grandfather sighs before returning your smile. “I appreciate it, dear.”

“Anytime.”

Ran fights the urge to kick your tote on the floor.

Harlan simply moves on. “One of my next novels is an intrigue of corruption, involves a non-profit, and Good Miss was enlightening me to a few details of their inner workings.”

“Glad you both can turn it off for five minutes,” Ransom grunts back.

Harlan’s sharp gaze lands on him.

“While I am glad you did not use her and lose her, as they say.”

“God, no,” Ransom groans in revulsion. “She’s here to rub Linda the wrong way…not me.” He tries to bury his self-satisfied smirk in a sweater sleeve held to his mouth.

“Charming.” Harlan means anything but charming as he looks to see you side-tracked again by a chat with Marta. “You’ve done much worse before—“ he turns to the window “—but my guess is she never has.”

Ransom’s jaw twitches. This is why he hates his family, even his favorite among them. No wonder he brought someone exclusively to annoy them, hoping to make them feel small and selfish, but he forgot something important.

They’re all like him. None of them care to be selfless. They don’t want to be charitable. They are fine being perceived that way, if necessary, if it gains them something else they want.

But.

What Harlan says gives him another idea. What if he keeps you around? They are sure to lose their minds. Harlan would be impressed (and proved wrong). Richard will be jealous (although that’s still gross). Linda would be unable to manipulate that situation (though she’ll try).

Plus, Joni will hate you instantly because you’re prettier and don’t need her snake-oil skin shit.

“Harlan,” you offer his grandfather his drink first, then turn to Ran with that irritatingly kind smile. “Hugh.”

He takes the glass and flashes pearly whites.

It’s decided. He just hopes the sex won’t be as boring as he thinks. You’re definitely not a roadhead bitch.

Although based on that damn Birkin, you are stupidly generous, so he hopes that translates to the bed…or wherever he fucks you.

“Sure your shoes can take it?”

As if he can’t walk across the fucking woods…the embers of waning alcohol all push around in his gut on the trek over to the Carlyles’ place. He hasn’t gone over there since maybe freshman year of high school during a long Christmas stay at Thrombey Manor.

He was wrong. Ran’s shoes are not fine, but he has to bury that irritation down deep while entering the warm and inviting mansion filled with your...roommates?

Four other people live in a house that you sometimes stay in: Angela, Diego, Terrell, and Luca.

Ran doesn’t fucking care. This is not some weird orgy he’s planning. He almost walks right back out and floors the Beamer back to civilization.

Mercifully, you have most of the upstairs entirely to yourself, a small suite of a bedroom, office, and bathroom neatly tucked above a quieter part of the house.

He’s surprised that you drop the tote bag and start shedding clothes so quickly.

“Sorry about them. We all went to uni together and this works as a crash-pad for the internationals.”

“No problem,” he sighs, “I know what it’s like.” They’re freeloaders, like my cousin Meg, is what they are, but Ransom keeps that thought to himself.

You offer him another drink, which Ran accepts, watching you like a hawk with sky-blue eyes.

Beneath your dress, you wear a slip, a silky satin thing that actually impresses him. He’s convinced there is thick shapewear beneath it because that just seems like a you thing to do: one sexy move, one boner killer. Instead of showing him though, you spin your finger around in front of him.

“Really,” he quips. He’s already resigned to putting his dick in either way, so he doesn’t really care.

You smile too sweetly for it to read as coy. “Make yourself useful and go to my bag.”

“That’s not a bag,” he scoffs. “Might as well be made of tissue paper.”

He still obediently wanders over to the chair you draped it over and flips back a handle. Excellent. This nearly makes up for the entire party. Ran derives a sickening amount of pleasure from knowing these condoms were stored in the Birkin his mother will now carry around with pride.

He downs the remainder of his drink and whips out a wrapper. He wouldn’t care if you didn’t have any, or didn’t want to use one, or if you made some reference to them but the lights were off and didn’t check. The lights are still on though, and you’ve pointed him right to them. He’ll play ball. He hopes you play with balls, too. He hopes this is fun instead of just mediocre. He prepares himself to be actively bored, however, because that’s the most likely scenario.

It’s his usual MO. Works like a charm. Start out slow and teasing—girls tend to think it’s sensual but he’s being lazy (and they beg soon anyway)—until he can take over in exactly whatever fashion he wants. Except you don’t quite let things unfold that way.

He expects you to want him to kiss you, but you playfully turn away each time he advances. You swat his hands when he tries to touch you, only to grab the hem of his sweater and rip it off him. You don’t wait for him to unbutton his jeans before sliding cool fingers down past the band of his boxers.

Fuck, he does like it when they're forward.

He pops the button, pushes the zipper, and shuffles out of the heavy cotton while you get a good hold of him. Ransom doesn’t care that your hands are soft, just rough enough for friction and nothing more, and he doesn’t really care that your slip is still on because he’s figured something else out.

You’re not wearing underwear. He’s not sure if you were but tossed them aside while he grabbed the condom, or perhaps you’ve been speaking with his family for the better part of two hours with your cunt kissed by the same air they were all breathing, but he’s happy about it.

Ransom leans forward to you again, but instead of letting him kiss you, you look down to spit in your hand and work him harder.

“The sooner you suit up…” you taunt him, glancing at the wrapper still clutched in Ran’s hand, “sooner you get in for the night.”

He’s been with bossy doms before—not his favorite—but this is different. His instinct is that you want a show of it, maybe you want to see him touch himself, maybe you want to see his face as the tight latex is rolled down his throbbing cock, but you hold his gaze while turning your body away from him.

Since he doesn’t have to play up how he looks, Ran focuses on the expanse of skin across your back. There’s so much more than your dress showed, yet not enough, and it’s beautiful. He thinks about the same, smooth skin that must be stretched across your ass and rolls his hips against the fabric while his mouth maps your neck and shoulders.

Not romantically, of course, he’s not trying to make you feel better—you are more than capable of feeling yourself, but Ransom enjoys a little taunting of his own now and then.

His hands move to cup your breasts, and fuck, did you not have a bra on earlier either? This day is full of surprises.

His intense rutting coupled with teasing your taut nipples makes your slip catch between your ass cheeks, and he angles his dick to press through the apex of your thighs, taking the satin with him.

Pretty skin beneath his lips, pretty noises ringing in his ears, Ran pulls away.

The fresh wet spot on your slip sticks to the condom when he looks down at his demanding erection.

You’re ready. He’s ready.

Fuck, Ransom is so ready, and you know it, climbing onto the edge of your bed to get comfortable presented in all your glory, all the lights on, fingers already teasing and working yourself open.

This is already way better than he expected. He doesn’t have to work. He doesn’t have to try. He doesn’t have to fake interest. You handle your clit like the expert you are on yourself, and Ran works himself up, sheathed and thrusting in you like the expert he is on himself. Pleasure for pleasure, and fuck is it pleasurable.

His fist holds onto the bundled satin across the small of your back, and you make natural escalating noises.

It sounds genuine.

Shit, when was the last time he didn’t get annoyed at some bitch hamming up her moans? Not that it distracted him from coming, no, he could get him whether she was dramatic or an awkward, silent one. Takes more effort when he has to ignore something she’s doing though.

Then you demand he goes faster, and he’s into it. Then you come with a groan that’ll haunt his hindbrain, and he can feel the massaging grip and release. Then you take his balls in hand, tugging gently, and he fucking loses it.

He feels the hot flood of his cum into the condom as your walls still ripple against him.

Damn, he doesn’t even care if you made him wrap up. That was fucking satisfying. It wasn’t even complicated, but you came and he came and that’s all he needed.

Ransom hasn’t been at a girl’s place in a while (certainly not without his car ready to get away) because he prefers to kick them out and already be home, but his hookups are usually clinging to the idea of staying the night.

You immediately go to the bathroom, clean up, and—now completely naked—stand at the foot of the bed.

“You good, Hugh? I’m on a call with Beijing in fifteen, so take your time—“ you button up a plain, blue shirt, your nipples showing right through “—or sleep or whatever. I’ll be a bit.”

“Only the help calls me Hugh.” It’s all he can come up with while he stares at your breasts and contemplates why he feels a bit used.

He got off, you’re not clinging to him, and you’ve given him an easy out. If he had to describe his perfect fucking date, this would be it, and his gut twists oddly just thinking about being dismissed.

You don’t miss a beat, heading for the door with only panties and the shirt on. Your ass pops out easily from under the hem.

“Suppose I’ll see you at the Kennedy thing next weekend, huh?”

Ran slaps his hand over his face, remembering there’s another fucking event coming up. “Yeah. Is that the stupid inner-city garden initiative?”

You hum in response, grabbing something else out of your flimsy purse tote. He better not see you carry that fucking thing around in front of actual fucking people. You don’t see him staring at your ass through his fingers before you swivel back around.

“If you need something, text me. Don’t knock.”

He snorts, knowing that he wouldn’t stay if a girl paid him to.

For one shining moment, you turn to beam at him. “Thanks for making it quick,” you chirp with a wink and shut the door behind you.

You goddamn wink at him after chucking him into the quickie category in your own mansion.

What the fuck?

Out of spite, he should just sleep here, he thinks. Let Harlan question why the Beamer is still in the drive. Let Walt stare at the car and know Ransom can get better pussy than that twat has had in a lifetime. Let Linda…

Hell, let Linda do whatever the fuck she wants and let Richard think whatever the fuck he wants.

Ransom takes his own naked walk of glory to the bathroom and does just that—he sleeps in a hookup’s bed all night, completely pleased with himself and his control of the situation.

a/n: Honest to god, this was supposed to be a one-shot. Genuinely, I swear. Now that I've plotted it out though...there was no way. I just personally don't really like more than 5k per Tumblr post. Too easy to lose your place. This way we stick with a three-ish-act structure, too. Squee! Hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know what you think in comments, reblogs, or anon asks!

[Next Part]

[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 #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ro answers

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criesinliess · 1 year

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━DECEMBER 2022; susan's recs

HARRY POTTER

━━DRACO MALFOY

a worthy opponent; part2; part3; part4 @prettygirlkay

kiss cam @↑

odd one out @panda-noosh

━━THEODORE NOTT

the devil’s command @s1ater

date with another @tbzloonar

GRISHAVERSE

━━KAZ BREKKER

apologies @heliads

easily forgettable @magpiencrow

soulmates @↑

heartless @↑

jealous @↑

cupid screwed up @anthonysharmaa

i worry about you @goldengoddess

company @↑

our room @triptuckers

you are done for @sumsebien

my greatest strength and my frailest weakness @holden-caulfield

definitely soft @↑

trust @↑

seven bells @↑

━━NIKOLAI LANTSOV

pretty boy @goldengoddess

━━JESPER FAHEY

my heart beats for you @magpiencrow

oops, I did it again @anthonysharmaa

CHRIS EVANS

never too late @fangirlovestuff

━━RANSOM DRYSDALE

his thoughts @andysbubba

accidentally in love @sage-writing

━━COLIN SHEA

a very colin christmas; part2; part3; part4; part5 @fangirlovestuff

DIVERGENT

━━ERIC COULTER

weaknesses @heliads

DYLAN O'BRIEN

━━JOEL DAWSON

custody arrangement @clints-lucky-arrow

━━THOMAS

patch me up @heliads

TEEN WOLF

━━BRETT TALBOT

the spring break lie @heliads

MARVEL

━━LOKI LAUFEYSON

break @darkacademicfrom2021

━━PIETRO MAXIMOFF

the man that you are @heliads

━━STEVE ROGERS

more than meets the eye @fangirlovestuff

worthy @oliverwxod

just a moment @holden-caulfield

OUTER BANKS

pogue v. kook @ptersparkers

━━JJ MAYBANK

hurt by you @ptersparkers

cramps @collecting-stories

high @↑

━━RAFE CAMERON

midnight swim @collecting-stories

f.w.b. @↑

stargazer @↑

FATE: THE WINX SAGA

━━RIVEN

be nice @randomimaginesforrandompeople

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

care for you @witchwyfe

━━JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

less talk; part2; part3 @tongue-like-a-razor

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nicoline1998enilocin · 6 months

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Fluffcember Day 3 | Kiss me if you dare

Pairing | College student!Ransom Drysdale x Shy!College Student!Fem!Reader Word count | 1.7K Summary | Some students have decided to set up a kissing booth to raise money for your upcoming senior prom. The person in the booth is the guy you've had a crush on for a long time: Ransom Drysdale. Little do you know he's standing there with one motive only: kissing you, the woman he's been crushing on since day one.

Rating | Teen (T) Warning(s) | Mutual pining, a few mentions of anxiety/shyness. A/n | This one-shot is written for day 3 of my Fluffcember 2023 Challenge! As soon as I saw this prompt, Ransom was the first person to pop into my head, and I can't say I regret it for even a second 😉 Thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading, and I hope you will all enjoy this as much as I did when writing it! 🎄 Events Masterlist | Kissing booth | @buckys-wintersoldier Masterlist | ''I gotta do this more often'' | @ultimatechrisbingo

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF credit: The owner

Main Masterlist | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

It's a warm spring day as you're sitting outside during lunch with some of your classmates, but you don't hear a single thing they're saying. Your gaze is constantly focused on the man you've had a crush on ever since you first laid eyes on him, and you haven't looked away since you sat down.

All your friends are discussing the upcoming senior prom and how it might not happen, but you're so lost in your daydream that you're only snapped out of it once your classmate Scarlett nearly shoves you off the bench.

"Did you even hear a word we said?!" She exclaims, and a bright red spreads over your face as you know you've been caught staring.

"I-I'm sorry," you say softly as you turn back, and when you look away, the man you were looking at looks your way, and you miss his gaze.

Scarlett rolls her eyes in response before summarizing what she and your other classmates discussed earlier.

"There's a rumor going around about a kissing booth so they can raise money for the senior prom, and I'm going to give you one guess who will be standing in it," she says with a big smile, wiggling her eyebrows.

"W-what? Are you- I mean- Really?" you say when the realization dawns on you who will be in it. Ransom Drysdale - a.k.a. the man you've been crushing on for a long time.

She confirms your suspicions, and the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, your smile almost splitting your face in half from excitement.

Your feeling doesn't last long, however, because when the feelings finally dawn on you that you have to kiss him - the one thing you've dreamt of since the first moment you crossed paths - your brain shuts down.

Your head snaps back to Ransom, and the smile you were sporting earlier vanishes. The bright red color on your face returns as he shoots a wink your way.

On the other side of the outside area of your college, Ransom is sitting with some of his friends, and he occassionally shoots glances your way because he can't keep his eyes off you.

For him, it was truly love at first sight when he saw you; he has never experienced anything like it. But deep down inside, he hopes he won't have to experience it again because he only wants you.

During the four years of your English Literature degree, you shared most classes with him, except for your minor, which you both took in a different field of expertise.

But when you two did share classes, you were usually stealing glances without the other one ever knowing. It's as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you both, leaving you wondering what the other person was thinking and feeling.

Your patience will be rewarded soon, though, and it all started with that one wink.

A few weeks have passed since then, and the days leading up to the kissing booth have slowly crept closer. Everyone in your senior year has been talking about it, and for a while, it almost felt like you were back in high school again.

''Only a few days left. Are you sure you're not going to join in on the fun?! I heard he's an amazing kisser; you shouldn't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!'' Scarlett tells you excitedly.

In all fairness, you haven't stopped to think about it for even a second since you found out it will be him inside the booth. The one thing that's mainly stopping you is your shyness.

You've never been one to enjoy the focus in a crowd, and to have to kiss the man you've been crushing on for the longest time without ever telling him only makes your anxiety and shyness worse.

''I-I don't know,'' you tell Scarlett softly. It's not like you've never kissed a guy before, but you're afraid that if you kiss Ransom, your feelings might go overboard while he might not even care.

''Wouldn't it be weird if I kissed him? I've had a crush on him for so long, and he barely even knows I exist...'' you sigh, but Scarlett is quick to shut those ideas down.

''Girl, trust me. It won't be weird, because I know he feels the same about you! You should totally partake, and after you two might fall in love and live happily ever after!'' she tells you cheerily, but all you feel is your stomach dropping.

As much as you'd like that, you can barely even string a sentence together when talking to him, let alone do this. But once the day finally arrives, you overcome your fears and leave your comfort zone.

''Here you go,'' you tell the girl collecting the money, and you get in line together with Scarlett. Since it's another warm spring day, you're dressed in a white and black polka-dotted sundress that hugs your figure in the perfect places.

Your hair is in a ponytail with a white bow, your loose curls swaying back and forth with every step you take. The look is finished with a pair of white Converse and subtle make-up.

As the sun shines through the windows, it makes you look almost ethereal, and as soon as Ransom notices you've gotten in line, he gets very excited.

With most people in line, he gives nothing more than a quick peck before moving on, but you're both getting a little nervous when you're inching closer to the front of the line.

''I'm not sure I can do this,'' you whisper to Scarlett when there are only two more people in line before it's your turn, but she turns to you before grabbing your upper arms.

''Girl, trust me. You're going to be fine, and you can do this. It'll be worth your while, alright? And if you want, I can go first so that you can see there's absolutely nothing to worry about.''

You think about it for a few seconds before you nod in agreement, and then it's your turn. Ransom can't keep his eyes off you as he stands there, his back straight and his chest slightly puffed out.

His hair is slicked yet a little messy, and he's wearing a thin sweater today in a color that compliments his eyes perfectly. You're standing behind Scarlett, yet you can smell his cologne, making you feel a little lightheaded in the best way possible.

Scarlett gives Ransom a quick kiss before moving out of the way, and that's when the realization sinks in that it is finally your turn. You're about to kiss the man you've been crushing on since your first meeting and the only one you want to kiss for the rest of your life.

''God, look at you. You're like an Angel straight from Heaven,'' he tells you, and it makes you blush uncontrollably, and you play with your fingers to give yourself a little release from the anxiety building.

''I- uh... T-Thank you,'' you mumble before lowering your head and closing your eyes tightly to fight the tears that threaten to escape embarrassment.

''Hey, it's okay. It's just me, and I'm not going to do anything you're not okay with,'' he tells you as he lifts your chin, and you look into his deep blue eyes.

''Do you trust me?'' he asks, and you nod before letting him close the distance between you two, and what he gives you is much more than a quick peck on the lips.

His lips slot together with yours perfectly, and his hand caressed your jaw before finding its home on your cheek, cradling it before tilting his head.

His tongue slides past your lower lip for entrance, which you happily grant, and every last nerve you thought you had is melting away completely.

Your hands find their place on his chest, the taste of Biscoff cookies is faintly lingering on his tongue, and you give yourself over to every last touch and flavor of him.

The kiss ends all too soon for your liking, but when you pull away, you're biting your lip as a smile threatens to escape your lips, and Ransom can't help but smile back at you.

''I gotta do this more often,'' he whispers to you, making you giggle softly. You nod before turning to Scarlett, who is waiting, and she's even more excited than you are about what happened.

You turn back to look at Ransom, and he's giving you one more wink before turning to the next person in line, but none of the kisses will ever compare to the one he just shared with you.

Later that day, when your last class is over, Ransom calls your name as you walk out of the building, and he catches up with you.

''Can I ask something?'' he asks when he finally catches up with you, and you stop in your tracks before turning your body to him, giving him your undivided attention.

''Yeah!'' you say excitedly.

''Would it be okay if I kiss you again? I can't stop thinking about how soft your lips are, and I'd like to kiss you again if you're okay-'' is all he can say before you practically fling yourself into his arms, closing the distance between you two.

It's not like he needed to ask twice. When you pull away, you both have a healthy flush on your cheeks and a big smile.

''Want to grab some dinner?'' you offer, and Ransom happily accepts. You hook your arm into his extended one as you two search for a place to have dinner and get to know each other better.

If there's anything this day has proven to you, stepping out of your comfort zone is okay. It might get you things you would have never thought possible.

''I can't wait to do this again if you'll have me,'' Ransom asks when you're standing in front of your apartment, and you nod in response. Now that you have him, you're not planning on letting him go.

''I'd love nothing more, Ransom,'' you say before getting onto your tiptoes and placing a small, tender, and lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth that has him instantly craving more.

He's had a taste of you and is confident that he's never tasted anything as sweet as you.

#fluffcember 2023 #day 3 #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale fluff

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sarahowritesostucky · 5 months

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📖"Who'd You Have to Blow to Get That Part?"

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Tags: mild D/s elements, mild degradation, reference to past sexual encounters, slight daddy kink, lovers to enemies

Summary: Ransom won't let you leave the room until you agree to go out with him again.

You’ve been ignoring Ransom’s calls for a week when he finally corners you in your dressing room

“Well well well,” he simpers. “The Lyceum. You’re really making your way up from the chorus line, little girl.” You glare at him and he chuckles, doing a slow walk around your body, appraising you in a way that manages to feel both admiring and ridiculing at the same time. He plucks at the ribboned hoop of one of your panniers as he passes. “Well, la-dee-da,” he mocks. “What on earth is this? I think I like it.”

You swat at his retreating hand with a huff. “Who let you back here, Ransom?”

“Oh didn’t you know I know everybody? The director’s an old friend. He knows I have an interest in … the theater. Said I could poke around backstage if I wanted.”

“Great. I’m sure he didn’t mean in my dressing room.”

“Your very own dressing room, by the way: how fancy.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, instead sauntering along past the couch and then over to the dressing table, feeling free to snoop around. You cringe when his fingers drag across the vanity top and land on the script you’ve left lying there. He picks it up and starts flipping through its pages. “Hmm …”

You fluster at the idea of him seeing all the notes you’ve scribbled in the margins. “Do you mind not touching my stuff?” you gripe. “Ugh.” Looking around for your robe, you spot it draped over the back of the dressing chair but realize that it won’t stretch around when you’re wearing the panniers. You huff and try to plant your hands on your hips assertively—a motion that is likewise hindered. You settle for gripping the sides of your whalebone-stiffened waist. “I don’t have time for this. Why are you here?”

“You’re one of the leads,” Ransom says, feigning impressed as he waves the packet of papers in the air. “So Daddy finally bought you a speaking part, huh?”

You feel your cheeks heat, hating him with every fiber of your being. “No,” you grit, hurrying over to snatch the script from his hands and set it back on the table. “I got this part myself, you insufferable piece of shit.”

“Been practicing those blowjob skills, then?”

Your jaw works as you fight not to react. “Why are you here?”

“I tried calling,” he says. “But you’re surprisingly hard to get a hold of these days.”

“Ever consider that I lost your number?”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s it.” He smirks and leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne, can see every detail of that stupid-pretty face, the hair that’s gelled and combed to perfection. He looks good, just like he always does, which only makes you hate him more. “I haven’t seen you twirling in your usual circles, bunny,” purrs. "Not since we parted ways. What’s it been now, three months?”

“Five,” you say tightly. “Though who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you,” he teases, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll admit I’ve hardly thought of you at all, since then, but …” He’s wearing a camel-colored coat and cashmere scarf, and he reaches past said coat’s lapel to produce a single, long-stemmed rose, presenting it to you with an earnest pout. “I heard about the role. Thought I’d stop by and congratulate you, see how you’re doing.” He lets his gaze drag over your half-dressed form again, eyeing you up appreciatively. “I still think about you, you know.”

“I thought you’d hardly thought about me at all."

He looks surprised for a second, before he’s chuckling at you again with that trademark blend of affection and condescension that you wish you hated more than you do. “Oh, bunny,” he coos, nudging your chin with the rose’s fragrant bloom. “You pay attention to what I say. I always liked that about you. That’s just how you are, isn’t it? So attentive, such a good girl.” You color mightily at that, too flustered to think of a waspish response like you want to. He sees this and smirks, dragging the rose’s velvet petals over your lips and humming in satisfaction when you hastily snatch it from his hand. “There we go,” he praises softly. “Pretty flower for a pretty girl. Though I worry how you’re doing when you don’t turn up in public for months on end.”

You force a prim smile. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to worry about me, or bring me gifts.” You turn around and stick the rose into a nearby vase, which already has a number of similar blossoms in it. Ransom’s is the biggest and freshest, but you rearrange it into the middle of the pack so that it doesn’t stand out as much. “And I’m doing just fine, if you really want to know.”

“Are you, though?” he presses. He steps closer, close enough that the frame of the panniers presses against his pants, and it’s easy for him to reach up and finger the strap of your stays. “I seem to remember you being quite the social butterfly.”

“Yep. That’s me.”

“You’ve missed the last several big events of the season, and I know you well enough to know that it’s not like you to play the shut-in.” He traces the strap from your shoulder, down to the top of the busk. You see his blond eyelashes lower onto his smug fucking cheeks as he shamelessly leers at the swell of your breasts, his fingers hovering just over the skin. “Who’re you supposed to be?” he asks. “Marie Antoinette?”

You scoff and push past him. “Unlike you, I get busy. I actually work for a living. And yes, that sometimes means that frivolous parties aren’t my number one engagement. So if you’ll excuse me.” You’re supposed to be over in wardrobe, getting fitted for your costumes. Danielle is probably already waiting for you. But Ransom blocks the door when you try to leave, and he does nothing to disguise the way he looks at your body when you stand back to regard him with another huff. “Ransom, move.”

“You should wear corsets more often,” he drawls, ignoring your protests entirely. “It actually makes your waist look tiny.”

You glare at him and try to move around him to grab the door handle, but he leans back against it so that you can’t pull it open. He grins, eyes raking over you from head to toe. You fight not to squirm, feeling more ridiculous than anything else, decked out as you are in your eighteenth century reproduction undergarments. You sigh and stand back, frustrated at how goddamn entitled he is. “What do you want?” you ask, knowing that he wouldn’t be here bugging you right now if he didn’t want something.

“I want to give us another try,” he says.

You wait for the punchline, or for him to crack a mean smile and laugh at how gullible you are, but neither happens and you’re left standing there blinking at him like a dummy, heart in your throat. “What?”

“You heard me.” He pushes off from the door and stares you down as he steps up close. He cups your face in a palm that’s soft from never having seen a day of work in its life. You have to fight not to press your cheek into it, and of course he notices, the overconfident prick. “I think we called things off too soon,” he murmurs. “Don’t you?”

“‘We’? You’re the one who ended it.”

He frowns thoughtfully. “Hhhm, did I though?”

“Yes.”

“Ehh, I don’t know if I remember it that way.”

You purse your lips. “I said I wanted to be exclusive, and you called me clingy.”

“Well that’s hardly ‘ending’ things …”

You scoff. “You said my pussy wasn’t ‘anything to write home about’ and left me at the restaurant.”

“Hmm. Well … maybe I was too hasty.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Hasty’.” More like genetically predisposed to assholery, you think.

“Hey, I mean it.” He grabs you when you try to move around him, holding you still by your upper arms.

“Let me go.”

“Maybe I never gave things between us a real chance, bunny” he says, trying to ply you with his words and sheer proximity. “That’s what I’ve been thinking these past months. That I let you go too soon, didn’t think things through. That I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“More like your dick,” you mutter, but he ignores you.

“After all, we had good times together, didn’t we? And you always look amazing on my arm, and the sex was soo …” he trails off, letting his fingers trace your skin. His mouth twitches when he notices your breathing picking up, your chest heaving visibly against the front of the stays. “Come on, princess. Just think about it,” he coaxes, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “You and I fit so well together. Don’t you remember how it was?”

You shiver instinctively, body reacting to the words he’s murmuring so intimately against you, to the way he’s touching you like he owns you. “Ransom,” you breathe. “I don’t—”

“I miss you, you know. I do. In my life, in my bed. I don’t like waking up alone.”

You ignore the flutter in your belly at hearing him admit that, and force yourself to shrug his hands away. “Well that would be your problem, not mine,” you say. He’s not good for you, and letting him bust in like this and insinuate himself back into your life will only lead to disappointment at best, heartbreak at worst. “Excuse me,” you grit when he walks backwards to block the door again. So fucking entitled. “Seriously, Ransom. I have somewhere to be!”

“I don’t really care. We’re not finished here,” he growls, eyes losing their charming sheen. “You can leave when I’m done talking to you.”

Your core clenches at those domineering words, and you have to square your jaw before you can bring yourself to insist, “Ransom, get out of the way. I’m warning you …”

“No, I’m warning you,” he says darkly, grabbing your arm and yanking you in hard against him. You gasp and catch yourself with a hand against his chest, but he keeps you off balance as his other arm scoops in behind you and holds you tight to him by your lower back. “Mmm, I like this,” he purrs, fingers finding the laces of your stays and grabbing onto them. He grabs you by the back of your neck with one hand while he tugs at the laces with the other. “Makes a nice handle. Good for moving you where I want you.”

“Get your hands off me.”

He tugs the laces again, jostling you forcefully. “Thought you liked it when I handle you.”

“What I’d like is for you to let me go,” you grit.

But he only narrows his eyes and sticks his face closer in yours. When he speaks, his breath fans out warm against your lips. “You’re confused, bunny. I should bend you over that vanity and remind you just how much you like it.”

To your shame, his manhandling and his domineering words turn you on, and you know he can tell—he can always tell what he does to you. That’s part of what makes him so infuriating, and so dangerous. “Let go of me,” you say lowly, surprised (and disappointed) when he actually listens, his hands releasing you so suddenly that you stumble back a step in your heels. His eyes bore into you slyly as you huff and right yourself. “What is your problem?!” you fume at him.

“Come with me to the Governor’s Ball,” he demands, confident and cocky as always, as if the past few minutes and your numerous refusals haven’t even happened. “You have an invitation, I presume?”

You glower at him. “Of course I do, you twat.” Given that your father is the Governor, it’d be odd indeed if you didn’t have an invite. “Awful presumptuous of you that I don’t have plans to go with somebody else,” you snap. “After the way you treated me? I wouldn’t take you as my date to a dive bar.”

He chuckles, and it’s in that low, self-assured way that drives you absolutely bonkers and makes you feel like a “pick me” girl all at the same time. “Oh, bunny. You think I don’t know you better than that?”

You shoulder your way around him to yank open the door. “You don’t know me at all, jerk.”

You inhale sharply when his hand clamps around your wrist and he shoves into you from behind suddenly, pressing you up against the door and slamming it shut with your combined bodyweight. “I know you better than any man alive, princess,” he hisses, grinding his hips against your ass and kissing your cheekbone in gentle counterpoint when you gasp at his audacity. “Shhh shsh,” he hushes. “Don’t worry, now. You’ll have an excellent time, I promise. Now, you go get fitted for your little costume, and I’ll send a car to pick you up Saturday evening. Say nine o’clock?”

You huff, flustered by what an utterly presumptuous asshole he is (and by the way your cunt is clenching on nothing, being pressed up against a surface full-body by him like this). “You know what your problem is, Ransom?”

He drags his nose across your cheek with a chuckle. “What’s that, bunny?”

You can’t get as much leverage as you’d like, pressed up against the door the way you are, but you do your best and jab back into his solar plexus. And his shocked, breathless grunt is a satisfying indicator that your elbow has met its mark. You turn around and take his face between your hands to peck a kiss of your own to his cheek. “It’s that people’ve been paid to make you think you’re better than you are your whole life,” you whisper sweetly. You kiss his cheek and then let him go, leaving the room before he can regain his breath.

Masterlist

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AFG Dark bingo @anyfandomgoesbingo @anyfandomdarkbingo

Card: sarahyellow/sarah-writes-stucky

Square B3: "Lovers to enemies"

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Square I5: "thwarted escape"

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#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #ransom x reader #ransom x y/n #ransom x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #bad things happen bingo #any fandom goes bingo #bingos n bangs

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ilovefandoms102 · 2 years

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Royal Flush-Part 4*

Pairing: Mafia!Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size Reader

Summary: No one messes with the Drysdale family and lives to tell the tale…

Note: I’m sorry this part took so long to get out 🥲but anyways I hope you guys enjoy 😁

Warnings🛑: mafia!au, soft!dark!ransom, mentions of violence, mentions of firearms, use of firearms(not by reader), mentions of murder (not by reader), mentions of sexual acts, arranged marriage, forced relationship, manipulative relationship, graphic violence, mentions of torture, mentions of kidnapping, smut(unprotected vaginal sex)

Please make sure to read the warnings before continuing, you’re responsible for your media consumption.

Part 3 Part 5

“Find whoever did this, bring them to the warehouse. I’ll meet you there after I get my wife home and secure.” Ransom ordered, a stiff nod from Hector came before they separated.

Ransom got you home safe, watching you carefully as you entered the house while he was on the phone with god knows who. This feeling of defeat sat deep in your chest, that shop meant everything to you. It was your home away from home, now destroyed with bullet holes and broken glass.

You trudged up to your bathroom taking a look at your horrid appearance. Hair a mess, mascara stains down your cheeks and around your eyes, puffy face. Sniffling, you grabbed a cotton round and some makeup remover and got to work. Tears slowly kept raining down no matter how much you swiped at them.

Ransom watched from the doorway, his heart breaking. He knew how much this meant to you and it made him a million times more angry at Franelli for making his girl cry. He would pay, they would all pay for every single tear coming from your eyes.

“My love,” Ransom whispered, closing in as he turned you to face him.

“Will you hold me?” you asked, gripping tightly to his biceps.

Ransom didn’t hesitate and pulled you tightly into his arms, wanting to keep you there for the rest of your lives so you’d always be safe. He was in love with you, he knew that now. He remembered in the beginning when you two swore not to fall for each other, yet it took less than a year for his heart to belong to you. Maybe it had always been you, Ransom could recall how much he flirted with you when you two were teens.

Now, as you stood weeping in his arms, he vowed to do anything and everything to destroy the Franelli’s once and for all.

Gently, he took your face in his hands, brushing away the tears that had now stained your cheeks. Leaning down, Ransom brushed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. He didn’t stop as he laid kisses to your cheeks, nose, forehead, even your closed eyes. You wanted to forget everything, to be completely consumed by him, your Ransom.

He pulled away only to reach and turn on the shower, proceeding to remove his clothes then helping you with yours. The hot water streamed on your tense muscles as you stepped in with Ransom following behind. Turning, you faced the handsome man before you.

“Ransom?” you murmured, running your hands down his chiseled body.

“Yes my love? I’m here.” he assured as he drew you in closer.

“I need you, please.” you whimpered, laying a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he started, taking against your lips that kept kissing his.

“Please baby,” you begged, reaching one hand to his dick that was already semi hard.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Ransom groaned, smashing his mouth back to yours.

Suddenly, you were in his arms with your back against the tile wall. Your hands and his were everywhere, touching, groping, feeling each other’s wet, slippery skin. Lips caressed anywhere possible of reaching, tongues explored and teeth clashed.

Ransom couldn’t wait any longer, giving himself a few strokes before entering inside of you. A breathy gasp escaped your lips, loving the stretch that warmed you to the bone.

“Ransom, baby, I-” you moaned, head tipping back bumping into the wall.

“Shhhh baby, just feel me.” he smirked, slowly gliding in and out.

Ransom wasn’t fucking you, no. This was making love, something the two of you had never done. You knew once you’d gotten yourself here that this love was real. There was no other way to put it, but were you ready to say it out loud?

Hot kisses to your exposed neck brought you out of your thoughts, as well as Ransom’s thumb finding and circling your clit. You couldn’t help but moan so loud as Ransom finally picked up his thrusts, your hands pulling his face back to yours as you kissed him hard. Panting against his lips, you felt your orgasm closing in.

“I love you,” Ransom whispered, then you came so hard your legs shook around him.

Ransom met Hector at the warehouse, guards surrounding the area. As he entered, he saw just the man he’d hoped. Franelli himself was sitting bound and gagged, blood and sweat dripping down his face. Along side him were his goons that Ransom suspected was apart of almost killing his wife.

“We’re gonna make this simple, even though that’s not my style. You see, you were stupid enough to cross me by coming after not only my wife but two innocent girls employed by my wife and I. It’s pathetic really that you’d go after women just so you can prove you have the bigger dick which we can see now isn’t true…I mean it took no time for my men to find you.” Ransom explained while pacing in front of the men.

“An eye for an eye Drysdale.” Franelli spat, Ransom having enough and punching the bastard in the ribs.

Franelli wheezed, spitting more blood out on the dirt covered floor.

“Tsk, tsk,tsk…that’s definitely broken.” Ransom chuckled, picking up a crow bar.

“Now, you’re gonna hand all of your money and assets to me and I’ll be the new head of your family as your last will and testimony. Then I won’t have to kill everyone you love and I can go home to my wife and finish filling her with my seed until she has my heir.” Ransom went on as he twirled the bar.

“Fuck you and your stupid bitch!” one of the goons piped up.

Ransom grinned menacingly and winded his arms back, smashing the crow bar against the man’s face. He howled in pain, but Ransom wasn’t done. Taking the bar up again, Ransom bore it down on each of the man’s fingers until he was begging for mercy.

“Enough!” Franelli screeched, pulling against his restraints.

“Hector, please bring in Mr.Cline so we can get this shit sorted.” Ransom ordered.

“I was going to have so much fun with her, after I beat the shit out of her…I was going to take my time to show her what a real fuck is like.” Franelli gurgled, an evil smile on his bloody face.

Ransom saw red, his fists raining punches down. No one would ever hurt his wife again, no one would dare lay a fucking finger on his girl ever and Ransom would make sure that message got across.

“You sick fuck!” Ransom roared, Franelli’s blood splattering all over him.

“Ransom! Enough! We need him alive long enough for the signature!” Hector called, somehow managing to pull Ransom away.

After Ransom’s men untied Franelli, Mr.Cline slid the document to him, helping Franelli lift his hand to grab the pen. Ransom held his gun to Franelli’s head, the click of the safety being turned off made the weak man’s hands shake.

“There, you have your money! Now let us go.” Franelli huffed as the guards tied him back down.

“Now where would the fun in that be, oh no I’m going to blow your fuckin’ brains out then deliver you to your dumb ass family.” Ransom grinned, aiming straight for the center of Franelli’s head.

He pulled the trigger, then watching Franelli’s lifeless body flop.

#ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x plus size reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom smut #ransom x plus size reader #chris evans smut #plus size reader #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans characters #mafia!au #mafia!ransom

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 5 months

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MyLevi'sDon'tFitAnymore Masterlist 2:

📢All stories are 18+ they are kink content BUT "teen and up" doesn't have any mention of sex, "mature" mentions sex, and "explicit" has specific detail about sex📢

emotional eater Bucky (answered ask) rated M, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, stuffing/weight gain/hurt & comfort

free use Ransom for Andy's pleasure (answered ask) rated E, Ransom Drysdale × Andy Barber, intox kink/stuffing/free-use

Natasha made into a babymaker by Steve and Bucky (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes × Natasha Romanoff, intox kink/alcohol consumption/roleplay pregnancy/breeding kink

Bucky is too fat for Steve to lift him (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, weight gain/immobility

Steve accidentally rehydrates astronaut food in his belly (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, stuffing/inflation/intox kink/alcohol consumption

Laurie secretly fattening Andy (answered ask) rated M, Laurie Barber × Andy Barber, stuffing/weight gain

Beanbag belly Steve (answered ask) rated E, solo Steve Rogers, immobility/stuffing/weight gain

TJ gets bloated and stuffed by Andy and Ransom (answered ask) rated M, Andy Barber × Ransome Drysdale × TJ Hammond, alcohol consumption/intox kink/stuffing

fourth installment of werewolf Steve (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, stuffing/bloating/animal play/intox kink

Andy picks up TJ after binge drinking + a short second addition (answered ask) rated E, Andy Barber × TJ Hammond, alcohol consumption/dubious consent/no consent/intox kink

more magic doll Bucky (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, magic weight gain/rapid weight gain/stuffing

athlete Steve bloated on protein shakes + more + again (answered asks) rated teen & up, Steve Rogers × his basketball team, bloating/slight dubcon

muscle-chub Bucky and tiny Steve (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, weight gain/stuffing/tight clothes

Steve's champagne shake up (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, bloating/alcohol consumption/burping

Steve ruins his perfect dorito ratio (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, muscle-chub/weight gain/tight clothes/stuffing

chubby bunny (drabble) rated teen & up, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, festive Easter stuffing

Easter egg dying (drabble) rated teen & up, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, festive Easter stuffing/microphilia

Bucky turns into his college's mascot (answered ask) rated teen & up, Bucky Barnes, alcohol consumption/intox kink/bloating

Steve jerks off to Bucky's belly (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, stuffing/burping

Malcolm In The Middle inspired feedee TJ (answered ask) rated mature, Andy Barber × Ransom Drysdale × TJ Hammond, intox kink/alcohol consumption/dubcon

Steve and Bucky dosed with gluttony pollen (answered ask) rated mature, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, rapid stuffing/magic weight gain

Bucky as the gluttonous party centerpiece (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, intox kink/alcohol consumption/stuffing

more beer belly Steve & food baby Bucky (answered ask) rated E, Steve Rogers × Bucky Barnes, stuffing/weight gain/intox kink/alcohol consumption

#mylevisdontfitanymore #masterlist #belly kink #text

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geekygemsshoppe · 7 months

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🌟 Introducing Personalized Letters from Chris Evans Characters! 🌟

Unlock a world of heartfelt messages from your favorite Chris Evans personas at GeekyGemsShoppe on Etsy!

Choose from a star-studded lineup of iconic characters, each ready to pen a customized letter just for you:

🔥 Human Torch / Johnny Storm "Fantastic Four" 🕵️‍♂️ Lloyd Hansen (from Grey Man) 💥 Jake Jensen (from The Losers) 🔮 Nick Gant (from Push) 👻 Cole (from Ghosted) 📖 Me (from Playing it Cool) 💉 Mikes Weiss (from Puncture) 🎒 Jake Wyler (from Not Another Teen Movie) 📝 Ryan (from The Perfect Score) ❤️ Colin Shea (from What's Your Number?) 🌟 Steve Rogers (from Marvel) 🚆 Curtis (from Snowpiercer) 🧠 Frank Adler (from Gifted) 🕵️‍♂️ Andy Barber (from Defending Jacob) 🔪 Ransom Drysdale (from Knives Out) 🏝️ Ari Levinson (from The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Select from letter lengths of 1 page, 2 pages, 3 pages, or 4 pages, and watch your chosen character bring your words to life.

Whether it's a personal message, a gift for a fellow fan, or a unique collectible, our letters are your gateway to connecting with your cherished Chris Evans characters in a truly unforgettable way.

Visit GeekyGemsShoppe on Etsy now to make your selection and create a piece of fandom magic that's uniquely yours! Don't miss out on this fantastic opportunity to bring your favorite characters to life through the art of the written word. 🔥📜🌟

#comfort character #etsy store #personalised letter #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans smut #chris evans characters

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ao3feed-irondadspiderson · 9 months

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ctrl-alt-deceit

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49544980 by soliloquent "Tony, I've completed the background check on Steven Rogers, and there's something big you need to know. Like, massive security-threat level big. I'm sorry, sugar. He's bad news." —⎊— or: A corporate espionage story told solely through excerpts from CEO Tony Stark's inbox. Featuring romantic pining, delightful office lunches, sarcastic super-geniuses, intense investigations, revolutionary nanotechnology research, unhinged arch-nemeses, haunting ghosts from the past, and an endearing emoji overload by a witty Peter Parker. Words: 17118, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, Ransom Drysdale Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, CEO Tony Stark, Employee Steve Rogers, Secret Agent Steve Rogers, Worried Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, Smart Steve Rogers, Stark Industries (Marvel), Hammer Industries, SHIELD, Hydra, Hacking, E-mail, Epistolary, Nanotechnology, Identity Porn, Miscommunication, Confusion, Trust Issues, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Falling In Love, First Dates, Getting Together, Office Romance, Power Imbalance, Peter Parker Loves Emojis, Tony Stark is a Paranoid Bitch, Softest Bean Steve Rogers, this is not actually angsty... but kinda... you have to read to understand SORRY, POV Tony Stark read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49544980

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

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rikihasthebestsmile · 2 years

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13. ✨recommendation✨

!written part after the fourth screen!

Warnings: they’re in a process against Ran so there will be mansions of sexual assault

During the process

“So, Ms. Lee” the man who was Ran’s lawyer said “you said that you have a photographic memory”

“Yes, I did a test before the process, this document attest that I actually have a photographic memory” the girl said giving the document to the judge.

“It’s valid” the judge said after reading it.

“Then, can you tell us what did you see?”

“When I entered San’s apartment that day I heard some strange noises coming from his room”

“How did you enter his apartment?”

“We were in a relationship at time, I had the keys…So, back to what I was saying, I went to check if he was okay and I saw him t-tied up, arms and legs tied at the bed…That thing was on top of him and San was crying, I thought that they were some of his kinks but our relationship lasted three years and we’ve known each other since we were teens, meaningless to say, we had some…sexual experiences together and we told each other everything…So yes, they weren’t his kinks but they were there to keep him still while she raped him”.

The process lasted almost a week but in the end, San won, the police found a receipt stating that Ran had bought some sleeping pill (used to put San to sleep) the day before the crime happened.

Chris’ support and his presence in the tribunal also made things easier for them, for San.

Now life will be easier for San, it will take some time to come back to his life before that night but he was strong, and now he wasn’t alone anymore.

————————————

A/N: I don’t know if this ended too fast but I wanted to give San a “happy” ending.

Taglist: @kiltedkit @randomness7198 @tributelovatic @xiaoloml @aishidaishi @bellagrayson-wayne @enaluvs @ddaengpotate @babygirlsuna @hopeladybug @yashirawr @jenoslov @lwoscar123 @haecube @veno-mous @ransom-drysdale-owns-my-ass @thearcher-withglasses @imtoanonymousforyou @beautifulcolorgarden @sunnibearr

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 1 year

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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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