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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part One
** **
Even from outside the mansion, you could hear the chaos within, the demands of Linda, who was screaming at the housekeeping staff about her bags being misplaced and the storming of feet, which must’ve come from Donna who must’ve argued with her husband, tender loving bastard who was a little too handsy with the female staff, like most of the men in the family were.
The entire family was chaos, and it was delirium that befell the rich souls that were clinging to Harlan Thrombey like little leeches willing to suck him dry.
“Good morning, Mrs. Thrombey.” You slipped through the front door into chaos, greeting one of your employers first while most of the family completely ignored her. “I hope you like roses.”
You showed her the bouquet in her hands, watching her aged eyes and tired smile with fondness and sympathy. Since you’d started working here nearly two years ago, you’d made a point about bringing flowers once a week for the poor woman. You’d also made it one of your goals to treat her like she was a woman still breathing and living, rather than the ghost her family made her out to be.
“You don’t need to bring her flowers,” Donna, the entitled omega with the stick up her ass, who was constantly correcting you, commented from the deep leather chair she was sitting on.
“Good morning, Mrs. Thrombey.” You rolled your eyes when your back was turned and stood straighter, making your way back toward the kitchens and the clatter of pans. You pushed the swinging door open and came into the sight of flour spilled on one of the counters, burnt sugar and the unmistakable stench of an alpha that had previously been in here.
“Oh God,” you groaned as you set the flowers down, “Hugh is here?”
“Yes,” Fran hissed, dropping a wet cloth onto the floor mess to clean it up, “he drove off two omega maids just last week after….”
“I don’t wanna know.” You sighed and set the flowers down to be put in a vase and taken up to ‘Nana’s room later, and then you grabbed a cloth to help Fran.
“Harlan is throwing another party, and all the little vultures have crawled out of their holes,” Fran took a dig at her employers, finding the same irritation with them as you had, only she was more justified in speaking her aggressions than you were. She was a beta, and if she were to hear talking shit about Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the worst she would get was a slap on the wrist. But you…
“Where’s my god damned drink?!” his voice carried through the kitchen door to the pair of you.
“I’ll take it.” You offered, saving Fran the headache of having to clean up this mess as well as deal with the arrogant alpha. “I have to go up anyway.”
“Y/N…” Fran warned, her hand reaching for your wrist, “Hugh is in a mood. Harlan talked to him again about the omega’s-“
“What else is new?” You shrugged and stepped away from the island in the kitchen and moved toward the liquor cabinet and the whiskey glasses.
“Thank you,” Fran exhaled as the cook came up from the dry storage in the basement, a new bag of flour in his arms.
“Curse this entire family,” He grumbled, setting the heavy bag down on the marble top.
“If only.” You poured the drink and dropped the ice cubes in, holding it tightly in your hand as you took your few deep breaths. They calmed themselves and then left the kitchen for the chaos unfolding in the front sitting room. You saw Hugh sitting by the window, his fingers drumming against the wooden side tabletop.
You ignored everyone you could and moved toward him, set the drink down and spun on your heels, moving toward the safety of the stairs. You were halfway up when he called for your attention in the most condescending way.
“Omega,” He spoke gruffly, “I’m talking to you.”
“She has a name, Ransom.” Meg, one of the more reasonable and friendly Thrombey’s, spoke in your defence, “You could use it.”
You ignored him, you wouldn’t look back at him even though he was classically alpha, and despite your best efforts to be as lineally different as other omega’s who would’ve shuddered and compelled themselves to listen to the potent alpha, you wouldn’t allow yourself to.
“Don’t walk away from me.” He was after you to tear you a new one, and you could hear his heavy footsteps coming from behind you.
“I don’t work for you,” you state, your heart pounding as it always did when you were around Hugh Drysdale. You never knew what he was going to do or what foulness he would exude upon the poor omega’s he thought were at his disposal.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” He sneered, his scent changing to reflect his anger. He wanted you to stop, and you started jogging up the steps to get closer to Harlan and the safety his study provided.
“I don’t work for you, Hugh.” You got to to the top of the stairs and felt his hand grazing the sleeve of your sweater. You sidestepped him and hurried to the study, with his long strides bringing him too close to you.
“You will, you little omega bitch. When I get my inheritance, you’ll be working for me.” He slammed his hand against the study door. The power behind his fist and the scent that was being exuded from him, his anger rolling off him in waves, was enough to make you want to bow your head and crater.
“Well,” you pushed his arm off the door and pushed it open, slipping inside, “that will be the day that hell finally breaks loose.”
You slammed the door in his face and turned the lock, still sensing his powerful scent and his raging irritation radiating through the door. You felt Hugh just as quickly as you felt Harlan in his study, and only his presence had provided comfort instead of making you feel as if your skin was going to melt from your face from the weight of his stare alone.
“Your grandson,” you frowned and rested your forehead against the door, “is a menace.”
“Which grandson are you talking about?” Harlan spoke with delight from his chaise near the small wooden game board with the ‘GO’ pieces arranged.
“Both,” you turned around and moved toward the cabinet built into the wall that held your medical bag, “Hugh is a menace.”
“He was raised to believe that he could have anything he wanted without having to work for it.” Harlan tilts his head, watched you grab your medical bag and his pain medication within. “He doesn’t know the value of hard work.”
“He’s not the only one,” you reached into the leather bag and grabbed the needles you’d need and the vials of torridol and morphine, “most people look for the easy way out.”
“Have you finished paying off your student loans?” Harlan questioned you, despite the answer being the same as it was last week.
“The answer is still the same, Harlan.” You smiled small, pushing the head of the needle into this bottle of the torridol, filling the syringe with as much as you needed. “And while we’re at it, no, I haven’t found an alpha. No, I haven’t stopped using my suppressants. Yes, you will beat me at Go because you cheat-‘
“I have never cheated at Go.” Harlan denied the claim, naturally.
“Sure. And I suppose there are random and brief earthquakes in your study that would cause the Go board to fall.” You pulled a face and shook your head.
“I’m making an announcement tomorrow, and I want you to be there.” Harlan drew your attention away from your task of giving him the medication, which was already pre-measured.
“An announcement?” You raised an eyebrow, switching from one need to the next.
“About my will-“
“Harlan Thrombey, you are not dying.” You scolded him.
“I want to see my assets taken care of by someone who will appreciate them.” He hadn’t batted an eye when you pulled the needle out and stored it away in a biohazard bag before placing the medications back in your bag. “Will you be here?”
“You are not dying, Harlan Thrombey.” You reinforced your statement. “But if you are going to choose someone to appreciate your assets, I’d choose Meg.”
“Meg?” He pondered, “why Meg?”
“Meg seems the most redeemable. The most normal. She’s in university; even though Walt calls her an ultra-feminist, she is the most grounded of them all.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Meg seems like she would be the least likely to ruin your reputation.”
“Unlike Ransom, you mean,” Harlan laughed under his breath and wandered to the game board.
“Hugh would waste your money on women and booze and fancy cars.” You sat on the floor, crossed-legged in front of the board. “Walt would turn your books into cheesy crime movies played on Netflix, Linda….”
You took a pause, hesitating to speak about them further.
“Don’t shut down on me now, Y/N.” Harlan placed a piece, followed by your own.
“Meg has the most hope. She has the best chance to live with such great wealth while being appreciative of it.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Or I could be wrong. Maybe she would be worst.”
“Your faith in Meg is refreshing, Y/N.” Harlan placed another piece, trying to block yours. “Meg is young and sheltered; she hasn’t known struggle.”
“And Linda received a million-dollar incentive from you to start her business.” You added, taking his invitation to be bold in your statements.
“Perhaps I was too generous. Perhaps I should’ve let them make it on their own.” Harlan held his piece in his hand, turning it over with his fingers. “Had I ruined them?”
“I think,” you blocked off his piece, “you should stop feeling guilty for what they chose to do with their lives. You gave them what they needed to succeed, and they tainted it themselves. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you need to give up your ability to speak with kindness and be generous with others.”
Harlan hummed, studying the board before he laid his piece down, cutting you off and winning the game.
“You let me win,” he quipped when you grabbed the piece after he celebrated his win.
“Kindness,” you countered, “can be as simple as letting a man who thinks he’s dying to win a game of ‘GO.’”
“You’ll come tomorrow, Y/N. I need you to hear the will.” Harlan tapped the edge of the board.
“Of course, Harlan.” You put the pieces back in the drawstring bag. “I can’t wait to see what grand plan you have.”
** **
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sagechanoafterdark · a year ago
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Earn A Mate
Ransom x Reader
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Pairing: Ransom x Reader
Warnings: Language, a/b/o, alpha reader, oral, asphyxiation kink, claiming kink
@albinotigerpython​ requested, “Hello. I don't want to bother. But I like the 50, “I don’t care if you’re also an alpha, I want to claim you.” with Ransom.”
Anonymous requested, “# 74 “Do you see me at all? Or am I just a couple of holes to fuck?” with Ransom.”
Anonymous requested, “Ransom, #8 “Look at your neck. Look at the marks I left. You are mine. And solely mine.” please.”
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You were pathetic. This behavior was absolutely disgusting. Being some alphas beck and call girl, like some desperate little beta bitch begging to get fucked. One text message and you’d showed up at the house on Kanoke Street.
Again for the third time this week. It was sickening.
But Ransom Drysdale wasn’t just any alpha. So maybe you could live with yourself. You’d known Ransom for a long time, prep school, summers spent at the Thomby estate, Yale. His family and yours were close in some respects while in others you were rivals. Both a pair of bull-headed alphas, it was no wonder you couldn’t stay away from one another. Drawn together like magnets made out of gunpowder, set to explode at any moment.
“Do you see me at all,” you said, eyes narrowed down at him as he sat on the bed. Dropping your bra next to the rest of your clothes as you stood nude in front of him. “Or am I just a couple of holes to fuck?”
“You’re so fucking mouthy,” Ransom snarled, blue eyes gazing up at you, fingers squishing into your cheeks and making your lips pucker. “I think your mouth needs to be occupied with something else right about now.”
Raising a brow at him you smacked his hand away rolling your eyes, “That a request is it?”
“You don't take requests,” he grunted as your hand wrapped around his cock.
Kneeling between his knees, your tongue reached out licking the head of his cock, feeling one hand start to fist into your hair, you slapped it away. Gaze locking with his before wrapping your lips around the head and giving a heavy suck that had his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
Bobbing your head up and down the length of his cock, you could feel the drool and spit slipping from the corners of your lips as you worked him. One hand holding his balls and feeling them twitch as you pushed him down your throat. His hand held the back of your head down until you were slapping his thigh for air, pulling away with a heavy breath through your nose before doing it again. This time his hips bucked up into your mouth and you pinched his thigh before pulling off of his cock with a slurping pop.
“God damn you're an Alpha but you suck dick like a Omega,” he said, watching as you came to stand just in front of him again, blue eyes looked at you angrily. “Did I fucking say stop?”
A smirk pulled at the edge of your mouth as you leaned down, pulling his mouth to your own and thrusting your tongue in, stroking against his own and sharing the taste of him. Snorting when the tiniest of moans pulled out of his throat and you pulled away. 
Sliding your hands down to his chest you shoved hard making the man bounce against the bed. “No, you didn’t. But it’s my fucking turn.” 
Straddling him with your legs on either side you guided his hands to your breasts. Encouraging the firm squeeze as you rocked your hips up and down the length of his cock, rubbing your slick soaked pussy against him. A low moan pulled from you as you rubbed your swollen clit against his cock. Teasing just enough to draw a heavy moan from the man before he leaned up, thumb brushing against a nipple before pulling it into his mouth.
“I don’t care if you’re also an alpha,” he grunted against your flesh thrusting up, the head of his cock brushing against you. “Fuck I want to claim you.”
“How does it feel to fucking want Ransom.”
The snark in your voice was the end of it for the man, hands grasping your hips Ransom turned pinning your hips against the bed before guiding his cock against your slick folds and pushing in with one smooth stroke. A loud moan bursting from your mouth as Ransom's lips attacked against the flesh of your neck and set a brutal pace. His thrusts deep and jarring as your nails dug half-moons into his flesh, the head of his cock stroking against your gspot over and over again. A particularly hard nip against your pulse point making you growl. 
“Fuck look at you, marked up so pretty,” he mused leaning away and hiking your leg up against his shoulder, opening you wider and drawing a moan of pleasure as his cock hit against that sweet spot inside of you over and over again.
A hissing breath sucked into your lungs, “That’s it Alpha, fucking take it.” Hips bucking back against his own as your fingers rubbed against your clit hard and fast, squeezing him tight and falling deeper into your own heat. Ransom wrapped one hand around your neck, making a gasp escape you as you arched up body begging for more.
“Look at your neck. Look at the marks I left. You. Are. Mine.” He growled, hand around your throat tightening slightly and pinning you down into the mattress as his cock fucked in and out of you. The knot swelling as his cock pumped in and out of you. “Mine and solely mine.” 
Snarling up at him your hand wrapped around his wrist, holding on tight as he pushed you deeper into the bed. “You want to knot me Alpha?” You mocked, hands drawing him down against you. Kissing him deep, feeling his knot swelling against you ready to slip inside at any moment. “Marks don't make a mate Ransom, you fucking know that.” 
Legs wrapping around his waist, you rolled him over pinning him to the bed and pulling off of his cock. A deep soul-shattering moan erupted from him before you grasped his face, pinching his lips together just the same way he had you earlier that night, “You want to knot me, Ransom. You have to fucking earn it.”
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sweetflowerdreams · 18 days ago
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The Talk - Writing Challenge
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Hi lovelies!
I promised to celebrate with all of you as I recently hit 500 followers and I would love to invite you to my “The Talk – Writing Challenge”
We all know the phrase “We need to talk…”. Sometimes we are afraid to hear it, sometimes we wish we would hear it and sometimes we are not brave enough to say it.
And that’s what this challenge is about: Let our characters talk about anything in their lives. Things we are insecure about (bodily or mentally) or afraid of. Things we love and things we hate. Happy, sad, and funny situations and whatever is in your mind, or you want to talk about!
This is my first challenge ever and I hope I didn't forget anything. And don't hesitate to ask if there's something I can help you with 💖
Here are some more information for this challenge:
From today until Sep. 09, 2021
Neither do you have to sign up, nor do you have to be following me. Tag me @sweetflowerdreams in your post and use #sweetflowerdreamsthetalkchallenge
If I don't respond within 3 days, please DM me. We all know sometimes we unfortunately don't get notifications
You have to include the phrase “We need to talk” in some way (you don't have to use it exactly in this way, e.g. Let's talk...)
You can write stories, headcanons or short drabbles. There’s no minimum or maximum word count. But, please add a “keep reading” after the first 150 words
Your work can be part of an ongoing series or the start of a new one. If you write different chapters for this challenge, please tag me in all!
All fics must be reader inserts/OC. Your reader/OC can be paired with any fictional character of Chris Evans and Chris himself or any fictional character of the Marvel universe
For “the talk” they can be related in any way lovers, friends, frenemies, Mom, Dad, daughter, son…
Smut is welcome, but both writers and characters must be 18+. No incest, toilet stuff, bestiality.... (Soft) Dark is okay but no noncon/rape. Dubcon is fine but please use proper warnings here.
Please use proper warnings where needed: 18+, explicit sexual content, explicit language, dub-con, threesome, any kinks, etc…
You can also set this up in any AU (Mob, Royal, Biker, Police/FBI, Lawyer, College, Professor, Political, Arranged Marriage, FWB/F+, A/B/O…)
I’ll create a “The Talk – Writing Challenge Masterlist” and add your entries.
I reserve the right to not reblog any post.
You don’t have to claim a topic. You’ll find some topic inspiration below, but you can come up with your own topic, too!
Here are some topic examples. Feel free to use them or create your own ones!
The kiss talk
The belly talk
The stretch mark talk
The hair talk
The thigh/leg talk
The glasses talk
The new jeans talk
The bikini talk
The boob talk
The vulva talk
The pubic hair talk
The sex talk
The kink talk
The orgasm talk
The pregnancy talk
The “being a mom” talk
The “I’m afraid of failing” talk
The “something happened” talk
The “I love girls/boys” talk
I am so thankful for all of you 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 please don't feel any pressure to take part in this but I wanted to take this chance to thank you for being here and supporting me 😘💖😘💖😘💖🤗🤗
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imaginedreamwrite · 27 days ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part 8
A/N: SMUT and depictions of violence. Be warned.
** **
It was clear that the Thrombey/Drsydales couldn’t do anything in small measures. Even a 4th of July
Party, an event that could’ve been kept simple and easy, was extravagant and over complicated. The party, which was put in the contract to help bring you and Ransom together, was the first party you were expected to attend together.
Up until this point, all your time spent together was either at the mansion eating dinner together, relatively awkwardly despite what had already conspired between you two, or that dive bar where Jake worked.
After the initial bump and Ransom being made well aware that Jake had his stable relationship, the two of you went back more than once.
Maybe Ransom liked the ease of being in a place that wasn’t uptight and rigid; perhaps he liked the atmosphere that freed him in the sense of letting him take a load off.
But this would be the first official big party. This was one of Thrombey/Drysdale’s most significant events of the year, and while Linda was hosting, it wouldn’t have been entirely exclusive. The whole ‘clan’ of rich vultures would be there.
“Keep your wits about you,” Harlan had warned you, “you think they were ruthless before? This is a perfect storm.”
“What are you talking about?” The two of you discussed the party over his favourite game in his study while you were taking the allotted time between dealing out his medicine.
“The perfect storm,” Harlan repeats himself, “alcohol which Walt will dive into, a busy crowd of alpha’s, beta’s and omega’s, and the desperation that comes from a family who are about to lose everything.”
“You think they’ll do something?” You asked from your spot on the floor with your left leg bent and your arm resting against your knee. Your right leg was extended by the gameboard and the table it was resting on.
“I know they will,” Harlan warned, “the time is closing in. If they are to win the game, that will determine their future-“
Harlan made his point by bending one of the collapsible legs of the table, sending the game board and the pieces to the floor with a softened clatter
“-they will try and cut you off by the knees.” Harlan’s warning had been adequate; it had made you shudder involuntarily while goosebumps rose to your skin.
“I don’t want you to be drinking at that party, Y/N.” he was an old alpha, seen more than most, experienced a great lifetime, yet he still had that ability to command the room.
Command you.
“Drinking will affect your ability to see what’s coming.”
“Harlan, you don’t think-“
“Don’t drink. Stick to water or virgin cocktails. Every drop of alcohol in your body will leave you susceptible to them. I mean it.” Harlan was looking out for you; you know he was.
He knew what your best interests were before even you did. Although you still didn’t understand why or how Ransom Drysdale was the best choice for you, you respected his decision.
Harlan was an alpha who never did you wrong.
This is why, when he insisted again that you don’t touch alcohol, that you stay sober for the party, you complied.
You promised him.
** **
The mansion Linda and Richard lived in was decorated with Edison outdoor lights hung around the long driveway; a series of cars parked outside were as expensive as the one in front of them or the one behind. It spoke to the wealth they had, the wealth they flaunted, as well as their guests. Everything from the entrance gates to the double doors leading to their home was immaculate and perfection at its finest. It made you already want to turn and leave.
It made you want to immediately hail the cab you’d taken and go back to the safety of Harlan’s mansion that, not that you would admit it without some liquid courage, started to feel like your and Ransom’s place.
You wanted to leave, yet they were waiting for you. The clan of life-sucking assholes who only cared when they needed to, the bastards who had the chance, every chance, to make something of themselves and ended up screwing themselves over.
The only one who had created something for herself was Linda. When you had it all, if you got it all, Linda would be the one who could survive on her own.
The rest were dying fish gasping for air.
“Y/N!” Jodi was the first to greet you, the first to wave her hand in the air when she saw you approaching.
As you passed by the vehicles, you caught the sight of Ransom’s parked along the side of the road. You walked past his Beemer, and that alone had your stomach flipping over the end. You didn’t have feelings for Ransom; you couldn’t have. He was a ‘Grade A’ asshole. You couldn’t have feelings for the arrogant alpha.
“Look at you! You look ah-mazing!” Jodi pulled you into a hug, her scent tainted by her perfume and the alcohol she was already diving into. “I love that dress.”
When she pulled out of the hug, she kept her hands on your bare arms and leaned in, her eyes staring deep into yours. Her greying blonde hair was curled as it usually was, with a few of those curls skewed. She was hunting for husband number 2, now that her prospects were drying up, due to you being willed everything.
“You are so beautiful; you know that?” She spoke condescendingly. “Ransom is so lucky.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t show up with Ransom, Y/N.” Walt’s lips turned into a half-smile, his fingers wrapped tightly around the cane that helped him move. “Trouble in paradise..?”
“I was working late.”
“Working late, huh?” Walt continued.
“Yep,” you stepped out of their circle, “work. I know that word must be foreign to you, but it means physical or mental labour to earn money—something you haven’t had to do in a while.
You turned your back to them and entered the mansion, following the flow of people as they moved throughout the entrance and the mansion layout to the back gardens.
You stepped down that first stone step and searched the crowds for Ransom. Your eyes bounced from person to person, seeking and searching for the alpha you were supposed to be here with. While you were searching, you heard footsteps following you, coming up from behind you.
“You’re so funny!” Jodi’s shrieky laugh irritated your ears, made you wince. “Would you like a drink, Y/N? My treat.”
She winked and looped arms with you.
“No. I’m not drinking.” You denied her, and the claim came almost immediately after.
“You’re not pregnant, are you? God! Could you imagine Ransom being a father?” Joni scoffed before she laughed derisively.
You felt your patience dissolve instantly. You were sick of how they treated Ransom, of how they looked down on him despite being problematic themselves. It pissed you off to no end, the hypocritical bitches.
“No, I’m not pregnant.” You glared at her, your voice taking a defensive turn. “Ransom would be a fantastic father, by the way. I mean, at this point, he’d even be a better mother than you are, Joni.”
You pushed her arm off of you and skipped down the rest of the steps, weaving in and out of the crowd looking for Ransom. You hadn’t seen him yet; you knew he was here. His Beemer was here; he called you when he arrived to let you know his entire family pissed him off the moment he arrived.
He was here somewhere.
“You little bitch-!” A startled gasp left your lips when you felt a hand wrap around your arm, the twisted and enraged face of Walt hanging over you.
“Get off me!” You pulled at him, attempting to get yourself out of his grip, yet despite your best efforts and his limp, he as a beta was still strong enough to jolt you, throw you around if he wanted to.
You were being drug behind him, almost unable to keep up with him as he pulled you back into the mansion through a side door and then up the stairs to a study. He slammed the door and clicked the lock, leaving you standing by the desk and him blocking the only exit.
“You think you’re smart? You think you’re witty, you little whore?” He took a rather aggressive turn for a beta, an angry streak from desperation to hold onto something significant like the publishing house.
“I think I get by.” You were strong; Harlan said you were an alpha in an omega’s clothing, yet at this moment, you were scared.
You were scared, and all you wanted was Ransom.
You could act as challenging as you wanted, but now that you were locked in a room with a beta that was on the verge of unleashing his anger out on you, you were genuinely terrified. You wanted the man who was both your alpha and not your alpha.
“You gave us no choice, Y/N.” Walt came closer, a needle in his hand, a clear liquid inside that you knew, in the deepest part of your soul, would not fare well for you. “You could’ve walked away.”
“Harlan chose me to get everything. You’re all acting like spoiled children.” You slipped your heels off and hooked them on your fingers, knowing that you could have used them to beat him off if needed.
“Spoiled? That is our inheritance!” He growled, a feral sound ripping from his throat as he cut you off once and then again.
You were almost past him on the third attempt to getaway. You were practically free and clear until he used his cane and took you down by swinging the end against the back of your head. You fell to the wooden floor with a cry, your vision blurry as spots danced in front of your eyes. You were too dizzy to move, too disorientated to pick yourself up.
“You brought this on yourself,” he held you down and uncapped the needle before he slammed the sharp edge into your neck and pushed the plunger down, “you’re going to be deep in your heat soon. And with the amount of alpha’s hanging around….”
He stepped back and smirked as the drugs that would’ve countered your suppressants and triggered your heat were starting to set in. They were setting in too fast, and you were too busy trying to make the world stop spinning to cry for help.
“The world will have finally righted itself.”
** **
Blood coated his fingers dripped from his knuckles, and he still couldn’t stop. He had flown into a blind rage when he found you and that alpha.
Ransom had never felt so fucking pissed off before. He had never felt that instinctual rage surging through his body until he caught the shift in your scent as it carried throughout the mansion. He had been looking for you all night, and all night he had been kept away by his father, by his aunt.
And then he found you. He saw you cowering in a corner, your eyes wide and your scent thick and dense, in the throes of heat while two alpha’s were trying to get to you.
Ransom ripped the first apart, or at least he beat him to a bloody, unconscious mess. And the second…
He dropped his body to the floor and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, the mess in his mother’s study incomparable and uneventfully droll compared to you cowering in the corner, your right hand between your legs and your left hand grasping at your breast.
“Alpha…” You crooned, too far gone to return to your normal state. You were thick in your heat, desperate to feel him. There was only one way out now, and while Ransom was a little shit and a little asshole, he had ignored his want of you until this point.
But now…
He lifts you from the floor, his thick arms holding you in his embrace before he moved toward the chaise in the room. He set you down and placed his hands upon your dress, and ripped the red silk clean in two. His darkening blue eyes were roaming your naked flesh; his lips ruptured in a smirk when you reached for his hand and shoved it between your legs.
“Please…” He should’ve turned away, but he couldn’t leave you like this. You wouldn’t get any better without feeling an alpha’s knot, and God forbid anyone else look at you. “Ransom…”
You moaned; you whined and ground yourself against his fingers. He spread your legs and used the hand that was already resting against your pussy, to stroke your swollen, slick-covered pussy lips. Your head was thrown back, and your hands were gripping the chaise fabric, your back arched. You moaned his name; you whined and cried for him.
“Omega,” he hovered above you, his lips attached to your neck where he would place his mark, “are you sure?”
“Fuck me.” You cried. “Please…I can’t take the heat. Please…”
He pulled away and fumbled with the black belt around his hips. He popped the button of his suit pants and unzipped his fly, keeping his eyes locked on you.
Your scent was coming in waves; your scent was radiating. The smell of your slick was like a second drug to him, and he knew, he had to have known, that he would be driven into a rut just as you were forced into heat.
“I’m going to fuck you.” He grunts as he wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped twice, “I’m going to fuck the heat out of you.”
He placed his knees on the sides of your legs, straddling you. Ransom lined the seeping head of his cock against your entrance and slowly started pushing this thick, veiny cock into your dripping, waiting heat. There was only one way out of this, and you knew that.
Even in your heat-filled craze, you knew how this would end.
You had a moment of clarity, a moment of sanity that allowed you to give genuine, concise consent.
“Ransom,” you squeezed his forearms, “you can’t stop. I know this isn’t…I want you to. We know how this will end. Don’t stop. I want this.”
“You need to say yes,” the head of his cock was dripping; your heat-driven lust would overtake the clarity and the sanity.
“I want this. I want you.” You moaned. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
You were gone again, your head thrown back when the tip of his dick was brushing against your swollen pussy lips. You moaned his name as a mantra while he slowly pushed his thick, heaving shaft into your tight cunt.
He hovered above you, one hand on your hip and the other gripping the back of the chaise. You shrieked when he snapped his hips and plunged his throbbing cock into your cunt, splitting you in two and stretching you farther than you had been before.
“Omega,” he growled against your lips, thrusting his cock in and out of you, “you want to be split open, don’t you?”
You cried your approval, your nails digging into his back, and you raised your hips, your slick dripping down his ballsack and thighs.
“Yes!” You screamed your approval. “God, yes!”
He pulled out and slammed back in, your body jerking roughly from the force, yet it was all you wanted at that moment. He bent down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, sucking on your tit like a hungry infant, his saliva coating your goosebump flesh.
Every thrust, every angle change was driving you toward a peak you never thought you’d meet. You were nothing but a mess underneath him, a mix of pleasure sounds that was the soundtrack to your fucking.
He hasn’t even removed the alpha’s from the room, the bloodied and broken bodies of the men who tried to take you against your will. They were laying there motionless, and perhaps they wouldn’t rise again.
“Mark me,” you demanded, your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him locked in you.
“I’m gonna give you my knot first,” he mumbled against your tit, his hips snapping as he fucked you senselessly. “You want it, omega?”
You came against him, your body shaking and trembling as you reached your first peak. You knew Ransom wouldn’t be far behind. You knew by the swelling of his cock. You knew he was going to cum in you.
“Mark me!” You demanded again, only in this instance, he listened.
He latched onto your neck and part his lips. At the exact moment, as his seed started to shoot into your cunt, you felt him bite down. He bit into your neck and solidified your future together, adding that final nail in the coffin for his family.
You rode another orgasm that came after the bite, further squeezing his cock and creating another mess against his ballsack and thighs, your shared fluids dripping onto the chaise beneath you.
When he pulled his mouth away from your neck, he gave you tender affection that seemed so out of place for him. He kissed your forehead, grinding slowly and gently against you, loosening the last bits of his seed that would’ve spilled into you.
It was inevitable. You and Ransom were now mates. You were bound together.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
Text
Alpha, May I?
Part Two
** **
The drive to the Thrombey mansion was slow going, and given all the vehicles parked outside, all the Thrombey/Drsydale’s had crawled out of their holes to be here. Including Hugh, with his shiny little beemer that looked like a tin can with the top skewed off.
With Hugh having his beemer, you recognized the mustang Joni insisted on driving, the SUV for Walt and his wife snd their little nazi son, and the Escalade Linda and her husband drove. The small cluster of vehicles was parked haphazardly as you parked near the grass. When you slid the automatic level from drive to park and had turned off your car and tucked the keys into your pocket, you exited your car. You stood by the driver’s side of the car and studied the family through the window in the mansion, watching them linger in their air of sophistication and high class that turned your nose and your stomach.
You had to take deep breaths and ease the slight souring of your stomach that told you something amiss was on the near horizon. Your senses as an omega were sharpened and heightened to the mixing of scents, the alpha’s and beta’s, that cling heavily in the air. They must’ve gotten here movements before you did, or maybe you were just hyper-aware of the fact that among them all, housekeepers alike, there were only two omega’s, and you were one of them.
Linda and Ransom were the only alpha’s. Jodi, Meg, Walt and his wife, and Linda’s husband were all beta’s.
Jacob was a little shit.
“Y/N!” Meg called your name from the front door, waving her hand for you to come over, “we’re waiting for you!”
You let go of your car door and crossed the grass, the small flat heels of your boots digging into the lawn as you walked from the safety of your car to the clutches of the vultures tucked in the mansion.
“Hey Meg,” you greet her before wiping your boots on the rug at the front entrance, “you didn’t have to wait.”
“Grandad insisted,” she closed the door behind you and brushed past you, her scent billeting past you as she moved into the living room nearest the front entrance. She joined her mom, but not before shooting a glare toward Jacob.
“Good morning, Y/N.” the polite and somewhat courteous greetings were standard, the blasé way they made an effort to make you feel seen without being seen.
“Do you have any idea why we’re here?” Walt stood and walked with his cane thudding against the carpet and the hardwood floor as he moved toward you. “Did he say anything..?”
He was an alpha, and yet his scent was burning your nose; it was aggravating. It was stale and acrid, and you didn’t want it anywhere near you. He was married, he was mated, yet his scent was…driving. It was as if he was no longer satisfied with what he had; there was a streak of selfishness that was tainting his scent.
“No,” you exhaled sharply, your insides twisting when Hugh’s eyes landed on you, “I hadn’t heard anything.”
You pressed yourself back against the wooden staircase, your fingers gripping the wood. Your fingertips were running along the grooves in the wood, your eyes cast to the side as Hugh studied you with the sole purpose of watching you squirm. You usually wouldn’t have been so bothered by him, by any of him, but there was too much going on. Their scents were spiking, all of them. Every one of them was radiating like a thick fog, and it was making your head spin.
But no more than Hugh’s. He was the alpha whose scent was coming through the fog; his scent was the most distinguished through the haze, through the mist that carried.
“We’re ready for you in here,” a man dressed in a fine suit stepped out from the hallway, directing your attention to one of the study’s, “he wants to see the omega first.”
All eyes were on you. All eyes were glued to you as you spun on your heels and stalked toward the office toward the comfort that Harlan extended. You enjoyed Harlan’s company, even his mother’s company was more suitable than the rest of them.
“Harlan,” you slipped into the office, ignoring the lawyers setting up their files on the desk, “this has to do with your grand plan?”
He smiled at you from his place on one of the armchairs. His leg was crossed over the other, and he waved you over to the matching set, wishing to have a conversation with you before everything began. You took his request and sat on the armchair, though you pulled your feet up and tucked them under yourself. You fiddled with the seam of your sweater, tucking it into your palm and squeezing.
“You seem nervous,” Harlan commented, judging by the way you were sitting and the tightness in your shoulders.
“You are brilliant, Harlan. You have a talent for writing crime novels and mysteries, and I’m never sure what to expect from you.” You smiled small, your stomach still wrapped in a tight coil. “But whatever you’re planning-“
“It will throw them all off their game,” Harlan nods his head, “it is about time it had. They’ve been comfortable for too long.”
His plan had to do with you. It had to do with one of the only omega’s in the room.
You were not a pushover. You were an omega, but you were not a pushover. You would not cower and cater to any alpha who looked your way for the sole purpose of having someone to fuck and finger before discarding to the wind.
You were an omega, but you were strong in your convictions and hadn’t allowed yourself to be toyed with by an alpha looking for a quick lay.
You dug your heels in and doubled down on your efforts to find a suppressant that would not only make your scent as an omega come across as unappealing but also suppress your heats and limit them to insignificance.
You were an omega who would not allow yourself to be bossed around by any ordinary alpha simply because they wanted to control you. You were an omega with a strong mind and a more robust constitution.
Harlan Thrombey called you alpha in omega’s clothing, an apparent compliment if you had ever heard one. As an alpha himself, who had married and mated with an omega like yourself, one who wasn’t part of the norm, he admired your tenacity and strength.
“You’ve got a kind heart, Y/N.” Harlan flourished his compliments of your nature, of your goodness, along with that fire that wasn’t so typical of your ‘class.’
“I like taking care of people who deserve it.” You clarified, giving him the medication he needed for the morning. “But I will not be some alpha’s plaything. My mother raised me to have more respect for myself.”
You supposed it was your fault then. You thought you had no one to blame but yourself for the events that pushed you toward the most significant problematic alpha you’d ever come across.
Maybe it was your stubbornness and your innate drive not to be saddled to an alpha who would treat you like a fuck toy that made Harlan do what he did.
“It’ll be good for you and good for Ransom.” He spoke in the late hours of the night before you left after completing your duties to him and his mother.
“What are you planning, Harlan?” You questioned with hesitancy, afraid of what his game plan was.
“My grandson needs to get his head out of his ass,” Harlan settled into his study, watching you gather your medical bag.
“Is that possible?” You joked. “Hugh has his head shoved so far up his ass; he’s become his own puppet master.”
Harlan was your friend and your employer. He wanted a friend, someone to talk to that hadn’t belonged to his leeching family. He had made a reputation for himself and built an empire that created a safety net for his family. In turn, they had become spoiled and entitled.
Jodi stole 400,000 from Harlan over four years.
Linda and her husband were living on Harlan’s dime while providing Hugh with an income without having to lift a finger.
His son was trying to defy his father’s wishes and expand his books into territories that Harlan was not pleased with.
They were all leeches, by Harlan’s own words, and he blamed himself. He wanted to give them tools to survive in the real world, and all he had done was make them entitled.
“Would you do me a favour, Y/N?” He asked that late night, his hand clutching yours with a burden, unspoken, weighing him down. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Harlan,” you thought of him as your family, as your surrogate grandfather, seeing as your own family had long since gone. “You’re my family.”
“You trust me?” He asked a second time; his persistence should’ve been a sign to dig deeper, “you know I have your best interests at hand-“
“Harlan,” you interrupted him, “I trust you. You’re one of the only alpha’s who hadn’t done me wrong. Of course, I trust you.”
“We’re ready for you all,” the announcement was made, and the Thrombey/Drysdale’s made their way into the study to hear the announcement.
You kept your eyes off of them; you’re kept your gaze set upon the studs that were hammered into the study chairs for decoration. You studied them; you ran your fingers over the detailing of the armchairs, ignoring the heated stare of Hugh. He was staring at you with this smirk on his face, and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. As the only omega in the room, he was trying to intimidate you with his presence, with his stare. If there weren’t so many different scents mixing in the room, the staleness and acridness of some that soured your stomach, and others that cut right through you, you would’ve cursed him out. You would’ve thrown your steely glare his way, but as it stood, you couldn’t have if you tried.
It was your fault; looking back at the warning signs you were given, you could’ve prevented this.
“Before we all get started, I would like to inform you that the reading of Harlan Thrombey’s Will has already been enacted into reality, is notarized and has gone through the lawful proceedings and will be immediate upon the last read word.” The lawyer spoke before he unfolded the letter.
The entire family was hopeful; you could see it in their eyes, in their eager stares. They were waiting for the news of their inheritance, of their rightful riches.
“This will be good for you,” Harlan mumbled, squeezing your hand, “you just need to trust me.”
“In the reading of the will created within the confines of the law, within sound mind, body, and soul, Harlan Thrombey-“ the lawyer took a pause and raised his head, his eyes zeroing in on Harlan, who gave him one quick nod.
“-Harlan Thrombey will therefore be awarding his publishing rights, the houses, his 60 million dollar fortune, the rights to all of his written works to….” There was a moment’s silence before he continued.
“…Y/N L/N…” the lawyer looked at you standing at the back of the room. “…and Ransom Drysdale under a set of circumstances surrounding a mating between the two parties, that if forfeited, will result in all assets and rights to fall to the rightful ownership under Y/N L/N. The act is immediate, and all possessions and rights upon the reading of the will, are henceforth and….”
Your head snapped up; your wide eyes landed on Harlan. Your breath caught in your throat, and the churning of your stomach became a torrential hurricane that pushed the acid of your stomach up into your throat.
“Are you out of your god damn mind?!” You felt his presence, his anger rolling off him in thick, dense waves. Ransom Drysdale, the alpha you would be bound to unless he is willing to lose his fortune.
“Do you trust me?” Harlan’s voice echoed in your head. “I have your best interests at hand-“
Ransom Drysdale was in your best interest?
You flew from the chair and hurried out of the room, your hand covering your mouth as the threat of getting physically sick was thrust upon you. You ripped the door open and stumbled out, your knees colliding with the stone path as you threw your head over the flower beds and eliminated your stomach contents into the leafy green and the vibrant petals. Your whole body shook as the acid crawled up your throat and emptied into the dirt and the grass.
“You little bitch-!” Walter, maybe Richard, cursed you.
“Back the hell off!” Meg screeched at them, rushing to your side to hold your hair back. “You’re okay? Are you okay?”
Harlan. Harlan Thrombey left everything to you.
Immediate possession of every right.
Hugh would only get his inheritance if you were mated.
To Hugh Ransom Drysdale, no less.
“He’s out of his god damn mind if he thinks we are going to sit here and let this happen!”
“Mom!” Meg whipped her head around with one hand smoothing down your back and the other holding your hair. “Grandad said it’s done. It’s gone through the courts. It’s legal.”
“Legal! Meg-“
“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Linda was to your right. “You’re going to be okay.”
You sensed them all except Hugh. He was gone.
He was gone with gravel spitting off his tires as his tin can Beemer sped out of the driveway.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 17 days ago
Text
Alpha, May I?
Part 11
** **
You turned the corner, and there he was again, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and that blue cashmere sweater rolled up to his elbows. You were stopped in your tracks, captivated by the tall glass of water you were bound to. He was attractive, more than beautiful, damn near perfect, or at least his physical appearance was.
He was everything an alpha should be, at least physically. He carried his strength in his chest and his shoulders, in his powerful and long legs that carried him with quick strides.
Even beneath the blue cashmere sweater, he looked imposing. Even beneath the soft material that encapsulates this handsome alpha, you could see his strength.
And you almost caved.
Almost.
“Omega,” he purred, using that distinctive voice that he discovered made you feel weak.”
“Ransom, I’m working.” You lowered your head and moved past him, relieved when he didn’t reach out to grab you.
“You’ve been working all day,” you heard the pout in his voice before you saw it.
“That’s because I have a job, Ran-“ you turned to look at him, your jaw nearly dropping when you saw he shed the sweater and had handed it out to you, standing there shirtless now.
“Do you want it?” He was teasing you; he was enticing you with that sweater that smelt like him, the cashmere that had been worn by him all day, that would bring you so much comfort.
And he was dangling it there in front of you.
“All you have to do is come here,” he purred again, knowing exactly how to get you to feel weak, “come on. You know you want to.”
“Ransom,” you swallowed thickly, “I can’t. I have to work. I’m almost done-“
“I haven’t touched you all day.” He scoffed and slid the sweater back on, ready to throw a tantrum. “And you won’t even-“
You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. You moved from one of the sitting rooms to the kitchen, letting him throw his fit. He would get over it, and if you tried your hardest, you could be done in half an hour. If Ransom was still pouting by then, it would be his loss, and you would settle yourself in the sitting room closest to Harlan’s office and let him stew in it.
“Driving you crazy yet?” The cook asked the moment you stepped through the double doors.
“Are all alpha’s like this?” You asked, shaking your head as you crossed the kitchen for the coffee maker. You reached for Harlan’s cup, his favourite cup, and set it on a tray with cream and sugar, along with a few sweets he ‘wasn’t supposed to be having,’ but you didn’t stop him from taking them anyway.
It was a guideline his daughter had set up for him, not his doctor.
“Hugh is a special case,” the cook briefly looked up from the potatoes he was peeling, his eyes settled on you, “although I think it has more to do with you than him being newly mated.”
“Why?” You reached for a freshly baked cookie, ripped off a piece and popped it in your mouth, “because Ransom is love deprived? I knew that.”
“Yes and no,” the cook moved on from peeling to slicing and dicing, “you let Hugh be himself, his real self, and he feels safe around you.”
“A big alpha like him feels safe around an omega?” You wanted to scoff, but it had made sense. It made more sense than you realized.
Of his family, only Harlan and yourself knew the real Ransom. Only Harlan and yourself encouraged Ransom to be genuine with who he felt he should be and not necessarily who his family thought he should be.
It was like having a safe place to land, a comfort zone.
You were Hugh Ransom Drysdale’s comfort zone.
“Dammit,” you sighed, “You’re right. Fran, could you-“
“Hugh is less of an ass with you around. I’ll take Harlan his coffee.” She grabbed the tray from you, freeing you from the last few little things you needed to do before you were.
You moved from the kitchen and into the sitting room, seeing Ransom sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face that looked more like a sneer. Despite being an alpha in his early thirties, Ransom acted like a love-struck puppy who lost its favourite toy.
“Ransom, are you still pouting?” You asked, kicking your shoes off and setting them on the floor in the corner, “you can’t still be pouting.”
You inch forward, watching him stare outside with melancholy, his blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He was resting his elbow on the armrest and his chin in his hand, his eyes forward.
“Ransom, if you’re going to play this game, I’m going to go away.” You rest your hands on your hips. “You’re acting like a child.”
You sighed and ran your hand down your face, groaning into your palm. You stepped toward and smacked his hand out of the way before you physically crawled into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your curled your legs, completely resting on him, your right temple brushing and resting against his left shoulder.
You sighed and tilted your head. You part your lips and ever so lightly blew on his ear. You continued blowing softly until you saw the minor crack, the slightest twitch of his lips as they barely formed a smirk.
“If you want me to leave-“ you shrieked when he moved as quickly as he did, shifting you in his lap and wrapping your arms around you. He held you tightly to his chest and nudged his nose against the side of your neck, giving you a signal to provide him with access. You craned your neck and exposed his mark, pleasantly humming when he attached his lips to the healed claim, lightly lapping at it with his tongue.
“I missed you,” he mumbled, squeezing you tighter, “you brat.”
“You were the one who couldn’t go without attention,” you point out, “who’s the real brat?”
“Always you.” He lightly smacked your ass before returning his hand to the small of your back. “Now, you can stay here.”
“Ransom-“
“-after you mark me.” He pulled away, moved you so you could lock eyes with him. “It’s not enough that my mark is on you; I want your mark on me.”
“Are you sure?” You asked, and the response you got was for Ransom to gently shove your head into his neck.
“Bite me,” he commanded with a whine, “now.”
“Manners,” you grinned against him, “I’m not some omega you can boss around.”
“Fuck,” he groaned and whines again, “can you please just sink your teeth into my neck?”
You grinned and part your lips, brushing your tongue against the area you would make him with. When he groaned and grunted from the sensation, you pressed your teeth against his neck and bit down. You broke the skin and gave him a mark like he had given you, further deepening the bond between you two.
You knew he was pleased when he slipped his hand onto the back of your head and pushed you further, making your teeth sink in a second time.
Ransom wanted it, even if it seemed like he didn’t.
His actions didn’t lie.
** **
He wasn’t secretive about the development. From the moment his family had entered the mansion, Ransom had kept you either by his side, in his lap or tucked into his chest.
You didn’t have a real hope in hell of getting away from him, and he was purposefully making himself seem as imposing as possible, crafting an image of an alpha would not be pushed around.
If his family made one more attempt at you, Ransom would gladly end them all.
“He has a mark?” Joni was the first to ask; her eyes widened at the sight of your mark on HIS neck. “Ransom, actually…”
“The little slut,” Donna sneered, “Walt was almost unrecognizable when they found him. He was barely breathing.”
“You’re lucky he was breathing.” Ransom glared at his aunt, the same vicious anger aimed at his uncle was not spared on his aunt. “He touched something that belongs to me.”
The will was going to be finalized. That’s why they were here.
“That little whore-“
“Donna!” His mother snapped, the alpha female in her finally having enough. “You have done enough! You and your husband-“
“He is your brother-“
“And by law, Ransom did nothing wrong.” Linda came to the defence of her son, of you, but it still wouldn’t have been enough to save the family from their reckoning.
“If you’d all be seated, please,” the lawyer spoke, and Ransom tugged you into his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist.
“We are here to discuss the will and the completion of the conditions that will grant the entirety of the will and the houses to Y/N M/N L/N and Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” The lawyer spoke with mild amusement.
“Now all the conditions were met-“
“It was forced!”
“Up your ass, Donna! You have no one to blame but your husband.” Ransom growled, grinding himself against you for the sake of stirring up your scent to bring himself comfort.
“All the conditions were met in an orderly manner,” Harlan confirmed, “well within the year.”
“You wanna get out of here?” Ransom mumbled in your ear. “You and me, first-class to Paris.”
“Are you out of your mind? We can’t just leave-“ you squeaked when he ground himself against you again.
“Yes, we can, omega. We could leave right now.” He nibbles on your earlobe. “Tell me you can’t picture it, hmm?”
He snaked a hand up your thigh, squeezing your muscle.
“Two weeks in the city of love fucking like rabbits,” he ground himself on you for a third time, “spending our money on whatever we want. Enjoying ourselves.”
“And what? We leave for two weeks and fuck the whole time..?”
“That not enough for you?” He started sucking on your earlobe, earning small whines from you. “Fine. We’ll leave for two weeks and elope. We’ll get married in Paris.”
“Ransom,” your breath hitched in your throat, “you want to get married?”
“Why not? Then you wouldn’t just be my omega. You’d be my sexy little wife.” He squeezed your thigh again, this squeak louder and more pronounced.
“With that, the will is finalized and complete.” The lawyer ended the meeting, and the two of you were up.
Ransom was tugging you along behind him, passing the curious eyes of his family as he stalked out of the mansion.
“Ransom-“ you were spun and hugged against his chest, one hand slipping to the curve of your ass and the other secured on the small of your back.
“We’re going to Paris, baby.” He kissed you breathlessly; passionately. “We’re gonna get married.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part 7
** **
Ransom stepped foot in the kitchen to see a mess littering the counters, tipped over bowls and you, this barefooted omega, looking confused while staring at a recipe in a cracked and aged cookbook.
He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows furrowed. The frown on his face had almost morphed into a smirk when he saw you blow hair out of your face, revealing the slight dusting of flour on your forehead.
“This shouldn’t be this hard.” You groaned and started mixing the ingredients in your bowl haphazardly, spilling flour out onto the counter.
“What are you doing?” Ransom pushed himself off the door frame and strode into the kitchen, bringing himself closer to you.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snipped, not bothering to raise your head or look at him. Your attention moved back and forth from the bowl with your dry ingredients flying out and the recipe to your right. “I’m cooking.”
“You can’t cook.” Ransom came to your side and looked down at the bowl of dry ingredients that looked like a mix of whatever you found in the cupboard.
“I can too, cook!” You finally raised your head, glaring at him.
“No, you can’t.” He countered, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Oh, and you can?” You faced him, one hand on your hip and the other resting against the dirty counter.
“Better than you.” He countered, studying the disaster in the kitchen.
“Bullshit, you can.” You matched his stance, with your arms crossed over your chest and your hip jut against the edge of the island. “I’d like to see you try.”
He cocked his head to the side and wiped his hands on his jeans. He glanced around the kitchen toward the mess, with the knowledge that he would be making you clean your mess and do your dishes.
Ransom grabbed the spoon from you and the bowl and proceeded to dump all the ingredients out. When he was done, he turned back to the island and set the bowl down on the counter.
“What the hell?-“ he turned you around and led you to the sink full of dirty dishes.
He set you in front of them before he reached for the yellow and green sponge to your right and plopped that in your hand.
“You can start by cleaning up your mess,” his husky voice reverberated in your ear, “you have a lot to do.”
He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his nose to your neck, to the very spot where his mating mark would eventually go. He inhaled slowly, letting your scent fill his nostrils and stir some primal archaic reaction that was inevitable. He rubbed his nose against the side of your neck, getting his scent on you as much as yours was getting on his.
He was addicted to you.
You were his drug, your scent and your warmth was everything he needed, everything he wanted.
Or at least that basest part of him that was an alpha wanted you. Maybe he was too stubborn to admit it; perhaps he was trying to put up a front because you were one of the only people in his life who cared to insult him, cared to defend him, cared just for the sake of caring.
No one but Harlan.
“What are you doing?” You were stiff in his arms; the internal struggle he was facing was also addicting you. You didn’t know whether you wanted to push him off or sink into his embrace.
“You smell good.” He mumbled against your neck, grazing his teeth against you.
“I thought I had dishes to clean.” You nudged him off, your eyes dilating from the extended contact.
“You do.” He straightened himself out as if nothing happened.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Ransom-!” You squeaked when he smacked your ass with a firmness that sent shockwaves through you.
“Don’t argue. Just do it.” Ransom returned to the island, re-preparing everything you had once made; only his creation would probably be better than yours.
As you kept your back to him and started the task of doing the dishes, scrubbing everything you’d used clean, you hummed under your breath. You hummed a melody that you’d come across a time or two ago, not quite remembering the words but carrying the tune.
You finished with the dishes and started wiping down all the counters and islands, moving around Ransom. You occasionally tried to spy on him, trying to see what he was doing, but anytime you would look, he would shoo you away.
“Why can’t I see?” You asked, your arms crossed over your chest.
“Why can’t you keep your nose out of other people’s business?” He asked, raising a brow eyebrow.
“Fine,” you mumbled and turned away from him, “buzz-kill.”
You cleaned the long stretch of cupboard across from the island, and when you were done, you rinsed out the cloth and set it back on the edge of the sink. When you were finished yet didn’t want to leave the kitchen, you rest your lower back against the edge of the cupboards and face Ransom. The heels of your hands were resting against the edge of the counter, your ankles crossed.
“Ransom…” you asked softly, unsure if you ever wanted to broach the subject. “C-can I ask you something?”
He raised his head and cast his eyes upon you, a few strands of his dark hair falling against his forehead. He didn’t say anything, didn’t verbally confirm, but retained eye contact.
“I…uhh…I’ve been getting a few texts….” You frowned and chewed the inside of your cheek.
“From who?” His eyebrows furrowed, his lips formed into a scowl.
“From Meg,” you swallowed, “Meg’s been asking…well, she’s been wondering if I could help pay for her school….”
He dropped the mixing spoon into the bowl and turned toward you, his hands on his hips. He was a massive man, even if he wouldn’t have been an alpha, but adding that ‘class’ had only made him seem more foreboding and deadly.
“Has Meg been harassing you?” He questioned, turning back to his task while watching you from the corner of his eyes.
“No,” you hesitated, “but she seems desperate. And I’ve been trying to ignore her, but the texts are getting a little more frequent.”
“Tell Meg to fuck off.” He looked back at you. “You have no problem telling other people to fuck off; why not Meg?”
“Well…” you sighed, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do. Harlan thrust this whole thing on me when all I wanted to do was do my job and live my life. And now-“
“Now you’re stuck with me?” He challenged.
“Yeah,” you made a noise, “now I’m stuck with the most irritating alpha around Boston. Trust fund playboy.”
“You could choose someone else,” he dumped the contents of the bowl into a Dutch oven, mixing it before he placed the matching lid on top. “You could choose another alpha.”
“And you could take another omega.” You felt uncomfortable; you felt a little strike of envy and jealousy hitting you. It was a quick setting, yet powerful enough to almost wind you.
There was silence, uncomfortable and awkward.
“Why’d you do it?” Ransom asked you after he set the Dutch oven in the conventional oven.
“Do what?” You weren’t close enough to each other to touch. There were a few feet between you two, yet his scent was growing with each passing moment. As if he was projecting it upon you.
He didn’t answer you right away. He took a pause, the wheels in his head-turning. He looked like he wanted to ask something else, he looked like a subject he wanted to approach, yet he stuck with something safe.
“Make such a god damn mess.” He scoffed and glanced around the now, clean kitchen.
“I was trying to cook.” You jut your hip against the corner of the island. “You know I’m surprised that you know how to cook. That seems like something completely out of the left field.”
Ransom was quiet again, and then he spoke with a softness that seemed utterly foreign to him.
“My grandmother taught me to cook.”
“Harlan’s wife?”
“My grandmother was incredibly strong-willed and stubborn, especially for an omega. She helped my grandad build his entire empire, standing behind him every step of the way with the hope that he would have something to pass onto his family. Which he did, but she never approved of the privilege we all thought we had.” Ransom’s voice was the softest it had ever been that you’d heard anyway.
“And you do.”
“My grandmother wanted the grandchildren to learn something applicable to the real world.” Ransom became unfocused, shifting into some memory inside his head. “Jacob wasn’t born yet before she died.”
“She’s only been gone for 17 years?” You moved from your place, closer to Ransom.
You brushed your arm against him, your scent complimenting his as if they were one.
“She was bound and determined to teach me how to cook. That was her goal. I would visit for summers when I was younger, and we’d spend hours, sometimes all day, in the kitchen. She would teach me the basics, hammering it into my head that food was a great equalizer.”
“Ransom-“
“And then she died, and I became a little shit. Maybe I always was one.” He snapped himself out of his daze and stole a glance at you. “So yes, I can cook.”
“Yeah, well, I know how to administer drugs and fix stitches. Cause I’m a nurse.”
“Guess it’s up to me to pass cooking skills down to the kids.”
He commented, and then he departs from your side, leaving you standing there with your mouth agape and your heart racing.
You didn’t think Ransom was a ‘kid’ person, and yet…it appeared as if he wanted your kids.
Ransom was a wonder; he was a very complex alpha.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 14 days ago
Text
Alpha, May I?
Part 12
** **
It was like having a small, tiny apartment to yourself. You’ve never been one to shell out for first class, and even now you didn’t think you would, but Ransom had. And that was an experience.
He had booked everything, from the flights to the hotels to whatever excursions he wanted to do; he planned it all. And you, rightfully so, let him because you didn’t even know it was happening.
Or happened.
He pulled you from the mansion and into his Beamer without giving you much time to process, let alone pack.
“I did it all,” he looked at you with that smirk and the devilish little look in his eye that told you he was going to start the sexual part of your vacation early, “you just have to look pretty and enjoy yourself.”
“I should hit you,” your eyes narrowed, “but damn if every time you open your mouth, I don’t have the urge to kiss you.”
“Are you going to make good on that?” Ransom stepped closer to you, slipping his hands over your hips to the curve of your ass. “Or would you like to save it for our first bought of rabbit fucking on the plane?”
“We are not-“ you gaped at him when he pinched your ass. “Hugh Ransom-!”
He cut you off with a kiss, a deep and possessive kiss that he enacted in the middle of the airport with eyes on you. He didn’t care to hide the affection, nor did he attempt to stop himself from scent your neck in a rather lewd display with his tongue.
He was claiming you again without physically biting you. He was making sure you smelled like him, with no room for argument. His thick arms were holding you to his chest; your head bent an awkward angle as he grate his teeth against the mark on your neck.
“Ransom-“ you attempted to push him away after receiving the stares you had, but he was so shameless and so unconcerned by them.
“Mr. Drysdale,” it was only when a stewardess fir the airport interrupted him, that he pulled away.
He looked at the stewardess with narrowed eyes and a fixed glare that would root anyone to the spot and steal their breath from intimidation alone. And that was what had taken over the stewardess, a level of fear that only Ransom could instil.
“What?” His jaw clenched, and he looked personally and viciously annoyed by the interruption as if the stewardess had stopped one of those promised ‘rabbit fucking’ moments Ransom was so sure would happen. “What do you want?”
“Don’t be rude,” you smacked his chest, finally pushing him away.
“You can begin boarding now.” The stewardess, a clear beta, had still averted her eyes when Ransom passed, that air about him, that distinct and classic alpha personality crippling even the strongest of beta’s.
Not to mention Ransom was just an ass in general. You loved him, he was your mate, but he was an ass. Even to you, he could be an ass. He made it up in his ways, and you didn’t entirely mind him being an ass sometimes; it was ingrained in his personality.
“Is everything ready?” You rolled your eyes when he used that tone on the stewardess, who had nod quickly.
“I’m sorry about him.” You called over your shoulder, following him into the plane and into the seats he’d paid for.
Which, again, was like being in a tiny apartment. The first-class seat he had managed to book had a bed made with silk or satin sheets, two pairs of slippers, a bottle of champagne on ice, a reclining seat that looked as if it was big enough for the both of you to sit in, along with flat-screen TV comfortably.
“Are we flying to Paris or moving in?” You questioned, stepping into the designated area.
“Hmm…nice, isn’t it?” He mumbled against your neck, pulling the privacy shade closed behind you. “You wanna join the mile-high club, baby?”
“First,” you turned and pushed his hands off of you when he tried to grab you, “the mile-high club is reserved for having sex while in the air and usually in the bathroom. Second, I am not having sex with you on the airplane. Do you have any idea how quickly we could be caught? And banned?”
“You have any idea how delicious you smell right now?” He purred again, that vibration in his chest bringing out your little chirp in response. It was small and hardly noticeable, more along the lines of a squeak, but it had told him everything he needed to know about you in this moment.
“Ransom-“ you held your hand out to stop him when he encroached on you. He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, but it didn’t stay there. Ransom moved his hand down his chest and abdomen, letting you feel the hard planes of him underneath that simple yet shift shirt he wore. He didn’t stop your hand until the centre of your palm had brushed against his hard-on, the throbbing mass of his dick beneath his jeans that was waiting for you.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Ransom’s voice was deep and sultry, a certain husk to his natural baritone that spoke to a part of you that came to life with every syllable. “You feel that? That’s what your scent does to my dick. That’s just your scent.”
“Ransom,” your hand closed around his hard-on, your fingers squeezing his throbbing cock trapped in his designer jeans earning another soulful, sultry grunt, “your scent-“
“-is what, princess?” He leaned against you, trapping you against the bed, with his right arm wrapped around your waist and his left hand squeezing your hip. “Use your words.”
“God,” you hung your head and rest your forehead on his shoulder, “your scent is so thick.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s thick.” He moved your hand off his jean-clad dick and drove it back to his chest, watching your grip the front of his shirt with near full strength. You were being as affected by his scent, and he was being affected by yours, and this bond that was strengthened by the two of you claiming each other.
He felt everything you had and you felt everything he was given.
Insecurities were lingering beneath the surface, the worries that he was unable and insufficiently prepared to provide everything an alpha needed to.
He could fuck a baby into you nine ways to Sunday, but could he provide for you? Could he be the alpha you needed him to be?
And the fear, his fear, that he would become like his dad and cheat, or like his uncle who screwed omega’s despite having one at home.
He was projecting that onto you. You could feel that through the bond, it had stolen your breath and made you physically feel ill.
Ransom was carrying all that around with him? Was he carrying all those negative connotations’s about himself? A constant battle between who he knew he was and could be and who his family thought he was?
“Ransom,” you stepped closer to him, your hand on his chest unfurling and smoothing against him, “you have to stop feeling like that, honey.”
It was the first time you had addressed him with a pet name. It felt natural; it just felt right. Ransom’s eyes narrowed defensively as if he believed you were mocking him. As if he thought you would be barbarous and go after him as his family had. It was his natural defence mechanism that would stick with him for the rest of his life.
“Ran,” you licked your bottom lip, “honey, you’re not a bad alpha.”
You crooned and laid his hands against your hips and slowly snaked your hands up beneath his shirt. The rugged ridges were shuddering under your hands, under your gentle touch that was still new to him. He had followed you around the house a few times while trying to work, and the one day Fran had finished for you so Ransom could have that contact.
He held you for what felt like hours, stroking your hair or having a whispered conversation with you that led to your relaxed state as well as his.
“You are a good alpha,” you raised your hand, stroked his abdomen, affirming him with gentle brushes of your fingertips on him, “You are a good man, Ransom. Or at least you are when I’m around.”
He pulled you toward him next. He had wrapped himself tightly around you and burrowed his head in your neck. He held you flush against him, his lips living incoherently against your flesh. He had you like you were his only ground like you were his last remnants of peace and hope.
“You’re my alpha, and you’re good. And if we have kids, I know you’ll be just as good them. I love you, Ransom.” He rubbed your back and pulled you into his lap when he shifted and sat down on the seat. He rests you against him, refusing to give you up, only wishing that he could get closer and keep you here all night.
“You’re mine,” he spoke his claim, becoming overcome with stymied emotions, “you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“I’m yours, Ransom. I’m all yours.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
Text
Alpha, May I?
Part Three
** **
The few days you got without the rest of the circle of vultures hanging over your head had ended the morning you got the call from the Thrombey residence with the apparent direction, on your day off, to come to the mansion to discuss and hash out details for the contract between you and Ransom, which was more of a set of conditions that if not met, would mean that you would receive everything and the Thrombey/Drysdale’s would be without a single stream of revenue.
Without them hanging around staring at you, or the very least whispering behind your back, you could go about your day working with Harlan and Wanetta, blissfully ignorant, albeit temporarily, about the whole situation you found yourself in.
You would’ve thought you’d have a chance to ask Harlan about why he did what he did, what reasons lay within his decisions. However, he wouldn’t let you ask. He wouldn’t even let you approach the subject. And if you pushed too hard, he would use ‘that’ tone of voice with you. He was the only alpha you allowed to use that distinct tone and only because you respected him. You thought of Harlan as your blood relative, your own dear family despite all your actual blood relatives being dead and gone.
Your peace had not led you to answers.
And worse than that, when you had arrived on your day off, your peace had ended further when you pulled up to the mansion and saw the hoarse of recognizable vehicles parked outside.
“I am not in the mood for this,” you hissed through clenched teeth, specifically seeing Ransom’s Beemer parked outside at an angle to aggravate anyone who saw him, “and I am not in the mood. For an arrogant alpha.”
You spied him through the window, swearing that you could smell his strong scent radiating through the brick snd mortar, through the panes of glass and trim, for the sole purpose of irritating you. His brown jacket, something from Burberry, you suspected since only the best was good enough for Ransom, and that dammed patterned scarf that, occasionally you wanted to strangle him with, draped around his jacket.
They were waiting for you. You could tell they were. They were hovering around the door like a bunch of ravenous wolves waiting for their next meal.
“God helps them,” you curled your lips and stomped your feet up the wooden steps, making a show about it as you storm into the house.
The moment you crossed the threshold, you were irritated by the mixing and mingling of scents. Walt’s, again, was aggravating. It was burning and pungent and acrid. There was something about him, something ugly about his scent that made your hair stand up on the back of your neck.
Your only, brief and disgustingly, relief was from Ransom. His scent, despite the man behind it being a little asshole, brought you sweet relief.
“Y/N-!” They were all there, ready to hound you.
You turned sharply and tried to stalk toward Harlan’s office, desperate for a safe space. “Y/n-“
Walt’s hand reached out, and he grabbed your arm.
“Don’t!” You whipped around and ripped his arm away from you. “Don’t you dare put your hand on me! I am tired, and I am hungry. My uterus feels like it is going to crawl up into my intestines to shrivel up and die, and I swear to God!-“
You seethed, figuratively baring his teeth with enough animosity to make Walt back up with his cane thudding against the carpet. “-if you put your hand on me again, I will snap it off and shove it so far up your ass, you’ll become your puppet.”
The room went silent, alpha’s and beta’s speechless and stunned. It was likely that they’d never come across an omega who wasn’t afraid to stand their ground. Maybe they hadn’t come across an omega who was willing to talk shit about a man north of wealth when you were not.
“Excuse me! That is my husband-“
“Yeah? Up yours too!” You whipped around and continued stalking away from the family, only stopping when his laugh, his deep baritone laugh, broke through the silence.
Ransom, at the very least, thought the entire moment was humorous despite the glares being pointed directly at you.
His laughter was genuine, it was thick, and it came when it was both needed and inappropriate.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Donna, Walt’s wife, sneered.
“She’s the omega with bigger balls than your husband.” Ransom’s statement was blatant and bold, and while you wished you had some snappy comeback, you hadn’t been given the time to say anything else.
“Y/N L/N, Ransom, we’re ready for you in the study.” The lawyer hired had popped his head out of the study and called for you both.
You exhaled sharply and turned away from their stares, from their overwhelming scents and entered the study. You stood just after the threshold and gazed at the scene before you.
The lawyers were set up at the large desk in the front; Harlan was sitting in one of three chairs with one on his left and one on his right. He was expecting you and Ransom.
“Move, omega.” A shoulder slammed into yours and as you almost fell over to the patterned carpet as the asshole of the century moved past you.
You glared stay the back of his head, your eyes narrowed. Your fingers flexed, and you instinctually ripped off your shoe and threw it at him, the toe of your shoe hitting him square in the back.
“Maybe next time, use your words, you arrogant asshole.” You sneered, striding toward him to grab your shoe. He was glaring at you, his jaw ticking and flexing as his nostrils flared.
“Listen, you little omega-“
“Sit down.” Harlan smacked his hand on the top of the desktop. “Now, Ransom!”
You trudged toward the chair and sat down upon the cushioned bottom. You rested your arms upon the rests and started bouncing your knee rapidly. You were hyper-aware of the change in his scent, of the deepening of his scent that came from anger. That change was pure alpha, it was purely basest at its core, and that spoke to you in some way as an omega.
You may not have held anything but disgust and dismay for Ransom Drysdale. However, his scent was affecting you as an omega. On your primal, most basic levels, Ransom was an alpha’s alpha, and you…you couldn’t be unaffected by his scent even if you were halfway between dead and alive.
“We’re here to discuss the conditions that will allow Hugh Ransom Drysdale to inherit his half of the assets willed to miss L/N.” The lawyer glanced from you to Harlan and finally to Ransom.
“One year,” Harlan spoke with a clear voice and a factual statement.
“A year?” Your head whipped around, your widened eyes boring into him. “Harlan! A year?!”
“One year to be mated and marked.” Harlan ignored your wide-eyed gaze and Ransom’s dirty look. “Otherwise, Ransom will forfeit everything, and it will rightfully go to Y/N.”
The lawyer made a note, ignoring the vicious low grumbling of Ransom, who was irrevocably trapped in a corner. He had no choice; he had no opinion but to concede lest he loses everything.
“And both parties will take residence in the mansion? That’s correct?” The lawyer was trying hard not to crumble under the deep-rooted and vicious stare of Ransom, and he was trying his hardest to keep his eyes forward.
“Harlan…”
“I know,” he looked at you first and then Ransom, “both of you. And the two of you won’t adhere to the conditions of the will without a fight. This will give you a chance to get to know each other-“
“What bullshit! You’re telling me that I’ll be cut off if I don’t fuck some single hopeless omega?!”
“Oh, by all means, jump off a cliff. Correction, please do the whole world a favour and drive your beemer off a cliff. The world would be better off without Hugh Ransom Drysdale.”
“She’s right,” Meg chimed from behind, the entire family watching the ordeal.
“Eat shit, Meg! You feminist-“
“Enough!” Harlan smacked his hand on the desk again. “The two of you will reside here! You will go on weekly dates, and if by the time the year is up you are not mated and marked, then my entire fortune will go to Y/N.”
“With the added details here, I think we’re ready to sign and submit the conditions to the courts for records and implement.” The lawyer set down one pen to reach for another. “With the official start date set at a week from now, I’ll have both parties sign-“
“I’m not signing that.” Ransom’s scent spiked; the increased peak was affecting you by churning your stomach. His scent was not as acrid and despicable as Walter’s, and you’d be remiss to admit it, but his scent was almost pleasant. If you could’ve come across his smell alone without the contemptible coating to go with it, a part of you may have liked it.
That reasoning could be applied to Ransom himself. If you had seen him in pictures without ever knowing him or hearing the bullshit that came out of his mouth, you would’ve been more susceptible to attraction. Physically speaking, Hugh Ransom Drysdale was an attractive alpha. He was wrong and foreboding, which said the basest need for omega’s to feel protected and safe. He was classically handsome, and his blue eyes would be mesmerizing on their own.
This is why so many omega’s fell to his trap. That’s why so many omega’s were drawn to the alpha who used them for a heat/rut cycle before ditching them.
Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be attractive. If he never opened his mouth.
“You sign that god damned contract, or I swear to God Ransom, I will break your kneecaps!” Walter hissed, his voice dredging on weak beta animosity.
“Up your ass!” Ransom rolled his eyes.
“Sign it, you little shit!” Richard inched closer to Ransom, his hand twitching as if he would smack him across the back of the head.
You reached for your contract and the pen that was handed to you. You uncapped the black pen and signed every little line you were supposed to, holding onto the promise that Harlan knew what he was doing and that, in a year, this would be good for you.
You trusted Harlan. He hadn’t let you down.
“One year,” the lawyer repeats the same information, though it was now being broadcast to everyone in the room, “to be mated and marked. Two dates a week, with the added attendance to the Drysdale’s annual Christmas party, New Year’s Eve party, the 4th of July party and…Halloween.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and mutter about the amount of time you’d have to spend together and your disbelief that Ransom would comply. Your resistance was only upheld due to the irritation radiating off Ransom, the way your excellent outward appearance was subtly making him irritated.
The lawyer grabbed the contracts when they were both signed, and with the agreement between the two of you, conspired by Harlan, the lawyer placed them on top of each other with a paper clip keeping them together. As they were set into his briefcase and the leather top was closed to the bottom with the brass clasp, he folded his hands and put them on the study desk.
“With that, we’ll end this meeting with a reminder that both parties are to be present in the mansion in a week. After which the first, contractually obligated date will henceforth commence on the Friday following.”
The contract would be notarized upon immediate return to the law office, submitted to the courts, and set in stone.
If Ransom broke the contract, forfeited in any way, the entire estate and fortune would be yours.
“You did a good thing, son.” Linda squeezed his shoulder, her fingers like talons.
“Who’s hungry?” Donna appeared bright and bubbly again, a transparent façade for the greed flashing in her eyes. “The help is making food.”
“The help? What the hell is wrong with you? They have names.” Meg scoffed, her arms crossed over her chest.
You stood and started walking from the room, leaving them all to discuss amongst themselves as if this was the magical solution they’d been waiting for. Like their entire universe was righted.
Meanwhile, it felt like your world was on the verge of collapsing.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
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Alpha, May I?
Prologue
** **
You were not a pushover. You were an omega, but you were not a pushover. You would not cower and cater to any alpha who looked your way for the sole purpose of having someone to fuck and finger before discarding to the wind.
You were an omega, but you were strong in your convictions and hadn’t allowed yourself to be toyed with by an alpha looking for a quick lay.
You dug your heels in and doubled down on your efforts to find a suppressant that would not only make your scent as an omega come across as unappealing but also suppress your heats and limit them to insignificance.
You were an omega who would not allow yourself to be bossed around by any ordinary alpha simply because they wanted to control you. You were an omega with a strong mind and a more robust constitution.
Harlan Thrombey called you alpha in omega’s clothing, an apparent compliment if you had ever heard one. As an alpha himself, who had married and mated with an omega like yourself, one who wasn’t part of the norm, he admired your tenacity and strength.
“You’ve got a kind heart, Y/N.” Harlan flourished his compliments of your nature, of your goodness, along with that fire that wasn’t so typical of your ‘class.’
“I like taking care of people who deserve it.” You clarified, giving him the medication he needed for the morning. “But I will not be some alpha’s plaything. My mother raised me to have more respect for myself.”
You supposed it was your fault then. You thought you had no one to blame but yourself for the events that pushed you toward the most significant problematic alpha you’d ever come across.
Maybe it was your stubbornness and your innate drive not to be saddled to an alpha who would treat you like a fuck toy that made Harlan do what he did.
“It’ll be good for you and good for Ransom.” He spoke in the late hours of the night before you left after completing your duties to him and his mother.
“What are you planning, Harlan?” You questioned with hesitancy, afraid of what his game plan was.
“My grandson needs to get his head out of his ass,” Harlan settled into his study, watching you gather your medical bag.
“Is that possible?” You joked. “Hugh has his head shoved so far up his ass; he’s become his own puppet master.”
Harlan was your friend and your employer. He wanted a friend, someone to talk to that hadn’t belonged to his leeching family. He had made a reputation for himself and built an empire that created a safety net for his family. In turn, they had become spoiled and entitled.
Jodi stole 400,000 from Harlan over four years.
Linda and her husband were living on Harlan’s dime while providing Hugh with an income without having to lift a finger.
His son was trying to defy his father’s wishes and expand his books into territories that Harlan was not pleased with.
They were all leeches, by Harlan’s own words, and he blamed himself. He wanted to give them tools to survive in the real world, and all he had done was make them entitled.
“Would you do me a favour, Y/N?” He asked that late night, his hand clutching yours with a burden, unspoken, weighing him down. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Harlan,” you thought of him as your family, as your surrogate grandfather, seeing as your own family had long since gone. “You’re my family.”
“You trust me?” He asked a second time; his persistence should’ve been a sign to dig deeper, “you know I have your best interests at hand-“
“Harlan,” you interrupted him, “I trust you. You’re one of the only alpha’s who hadn’t done me wrong. Of course, I trust you.”
It was your fault; looking back at the warning signs you were given, you could’ve prevented this.
“Harlan Thrombey will therefore be awarding his publishing rights, the houses, his 60 million dollar fortune, the rights to all of his written works to….” The lawyer paused while the Thrombey/Drysdale’s looked on in hopefulness.
The lawyer was in a state of disbelief, while Harlan, your dear friend, looked proud.
“…Y/N L/N…” the lawyer looked at you standing at the back of the room. “…and Ransom Drysdale under a set of circumstances that will be forfeited if the contract is breached.”
“Are you out of your god damn mind?!” You felt his presence, his anger rolling off him in thick, dense waves. Ransom Drysdale, the alpha you would be bound to unless he is willing to lose his fortune.
“Do you trust me?” Harlen’s voice echoed in your head. “I have your best interests at hand-“
Ransom Drysdale was in your best interest?
It was your fault. You should have said no.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
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Alpha, May I?
PROLOGUE PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13
Summary: What if there was no Marta or a suicide? What if Harlan Thrombey had willed everything he owned and his entire legacy to the nurse who cared after both him and his mother?
What is Harlan Thrombey’s nurse was an omega who was good in nature, caring and kind hearted, to the fault of others?
What if Harlan Thrombey had a grand plan, to get his grandson to step up to the plate and finally do something with his life?
What if you were an omega who kept on a strict suppressant schedule to avoid attracting an alpha, only to have one technically willed to you?
Harlan has decided that you will have everything. And so will Ransom Drysdale.
Only…in order for Ransom to get the money, to get the assets he selfishly wants, he also needs to get you.
He needs to be mated to the omega who is willed everything while simultaneously keeping the rest of his family from tearing you apart.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a month ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part 6
** **
Word spread like fire wildfire in a drought that Hugh Ransom Drysdale had already fucked up the first date. The news that the inheritance and the Thrombey/Drysdale’s last hope was in Ransom, and he was failing, had reached the ears of his entire family.
And on a Friday morning following the date, they arrived at the mansion. The mix of alpha’s and beta’s entered the house without giving notice, without announcing themselves, to speak to Ransom.
“You little shit,” his father was first.
“Father.”
“You had one job, Ransom!” His father stormed into the sitting room, wagging his finger back and forth. “One job, and that was to fuck the little bitch-“
“Don’t call her that!” Meg snapped, following his father. “Omega’s deserve more respect-“
“Shut the fuck up, Meg!” Walt was the third to stumble into the sitting room with the thump of his cane on the carpet. “This all comes down to you, Ransom.”
“No pressure, right?” He drummed his fingers against the armrests of the chair he was sitting on, watching the rest of his family stumbling into the sitting room, each with their additives. “Brought the whole family, huh? Some intervention?”
“Ransom,” his mother sat in the chair adjacent to his, “what happened? If you tell us, maybe we can fix it?”
“His unique brand of trust fund playboy bullshit wasn’t enough to sway an omega,” Meg sneered as she moved around the back of the couch to the patterned front, “who could be surprised?”
“Hey Meg,” Ransom leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, “would you do me a little favour and get fucked? Might settle your bitchiness out.”
“Screw you, asshole!” Meg figuratively bared her teeth and fired back.
“Ransom!” His mother yelled, drawing his attention back to her. “What happened?”
Ransom tilted his head and smirked before shrugging with his hands. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to tell them?
“The omega’s hot. And she has a history of dating little asshole beta’s.” Ransom answered less than truthfully, but he gave them the answer he wanted.
“Your omega ditched you for a beta?” Walt asked with a laugh, “little fucker.”
“You can’t screw this up, Ransom!” His father slammed his open hand on one of the side tables. “This is our inheritance, you little prat.”
“I don’t remember grandad leaving the money in your name.” Ransom crossed his left leg over his right and watched his face contort in anger, the furrowing of his brow and the curling of his lips into a sneer.
“Ransom,” his mother attempted a soft approach, only to quit before she even started when the rather obnoxious creaking of the stairs was heard.
You made your appearance at the bottom of the stairs to his entire selfish and twisted family. You were caught between Ransom and his family, metaphorically.
They were staring at you, all at once and with curiosity and anger. They’d blame Ransom just as much as you for not making this work. Only if Ransom failed, they lost their last chance for everything.
“Y/N-“ Linda starts again, attempting to reach out to you.
“I am not talking about this; I have an appointment.” You turned on your heel and strode to the kitchen, leaving Ransom among the thick of his twisted, money-hungry family.
“Listen to me, you little shit, you haven’t done one good thing for this family, and now if your chance to prove yourself.” Walt lifted his cane and moved it toward Ransom’s chest, choosing to remain ignorant to the look he was giving his uncle.
“Is it the little bitch?” Donna clenched her hands. “You know omega’s are only right in their head when they’re-“
“You would know, Donna.” Ransom points his finger toward her, his eyes narrowed. “Your husband has a lot of experience with young omega’s, doesn’t he?”
“You’re out of your mind, Ransom!” Walter stuttered and stumbled over his words while his wife looked horrified. “You are an imbecile! You are a cocksucker who doesn’t have the skills-“
Ransom rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers against the arm, listening to his family berate him. The routine was relatively simple; they would rant and rave about their problems, blame them on him, as he was the ‘black sheep, and quite often they made him out to be the scapegoat.
“You are going to cost us everything.”
“Our entire fortune relies on you, ya little trust fund prick.”
His entire family were hypocrites. His whole family was so driven to control the money his grandad had left you, had left him; they were ignoring their faults.
“You’re useless.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“You’re nothing but a little shit.”
“Ransom…” your voice cut through all the shit. You were standing on the edge of the kitchen, your hands on your hips and your eyes burning into his.
He lowered his right hand from where it was tucked under his chin and watched you as you moved toward him. His family had once again parted, watching you with thinly veiled interest.
“Omega.” He spoke gruffly, his chest vibrating with each beat of his words.
He would never give you the satisfaction of telling you, but damn, were you beautiful.
** **
“I thought you were leaving.” The cook chimed, studying you as you stared intently at the exit of the kitchen. “The back door is waiting for you.”
“I hate this family.” You grumbled and threw your bag on the floor. “Every one of them is little assholes.”
“Where are you going, Y/N?” The cook asked with interest and amusement. “I thought you had an appointment.”
“Who the hell says that stuff to their kid?” You asked yourself as you stepped closer to the exit of the kitchen.
“Are you going to defend him?” He asked, moving a large stockpot from the floor to the counter. “You’re going to defend Hugh Ransom Drysdale?”
“No one deserves to be told they’re useless. No one deserves to be told they’re pathetic.”
“Not even Hugh?”
There was a tightening in your belly. The thought of Ransom being spoken to as a child pissed you off. You were already aggravated by them being here, but then they had to try snd get into your business.
“No one gets to call Ransom a little shit,” you rolled your shoulders back, “except me. That’s my right, fuckers.”
You raised your head and took a slow, deep breath. You took the first step toward the exit of the kitchen and waited, trying not to show how assaulted you were by the mixing of their natural scents and their perfume and cologne, all of which was burning your nose.
“Ransom…” All eyes were on you. But the only pair of eyes you cared about was Ransom’s.
“Omega.”
You stepped over the threshold for the kitchen and began walking toward him. Your heart was ready to jump out of your chest, and your hands shook with each step you took, but you had to do this.
They couldn’t screw with Ransom. Not anymore. You weren’t going to let them.
“I have an appointment,” you took your time; you walked with purpose, knowing that his eyes were glued to you and the rest of his family wasn’t sure what to expect, “but before I go….”
You stood before him and then slid one hand up to his shoulder to his cheek. You brushed your thumb across his cheek, and then you slowly straddled his waist.
Your eyes were locked as you sank into his lap. Ransom’s hands fell naturally to your hips as he pulled up closer. With one hand on his cheek, you placed the other on his chest.
“I had a perfect time last night, Ransom.” You leaned in closer, brushing the tip of your nose against his, your bottom lip grazing his.
His hands moved from your hips to the curve of your ass, shamelessly squeezing your flesh through your jeans. Before he let you kiss him, he turned his head and drugged his nose along the side of your neck, inhaling your scent. His teeth grazed your skin; the growl that left his lips was possessive. He could’ve marked you there, in front of his whole family. Instead, he moved your head back by his fingers under your chin, your noses touching again.
“I’ll miss you.” You closed the slight distance there was and finally made contact between his lips and yours.
The moment you kissed, Ransom shifted under you and grazed his quickly growing hard-on against your core. His chest rumbled as he made a noise of pleasure when your scent assaulted him, and he yours.
His thick and heavy scent wrapped around you like a blanket, giving you a sense of ease that could only come from an alpha. Despite how irritating he was and the reputation he had for screwing any and every omega he could and being a rich prick, Hugh Ransom Drysdale was one of the most attractive alpha’s you had ever seen.
You could feel his build beneath your hand, even though his sweater. You could feel the complex plane of his chest and the heat radiating from his body to yours.
After you needed to breathe, you pulled away and brushed your lips against the shell of his ear. “If you touch my ass again, I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to you.”
You pulled away and tapped his cheek twice before you got off his lap and righted yourself. You turned and walked back the way you came, smirking at the silence that filled the room.
“You have nothing to worry about, father,” Ransom smirked, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Everything will be just fine.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 20 days ago
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Alpha, May I?
Part 10
** **
“How does it feel?” Harlan asked of the mark on your neck, the healed bite that forever sealed you to Hugh Ransom Drysdale.
It was healed now and hadn’t looked as bumped as raised as it once had. It appeared like it was a tattoo inked onto your neck, flush against your skin as if it had always been there.
“That shows care,” Harlan told you once you commented on it, “Ransom was careful when he bit you.”
You had hummed in response, brushing your fingers against the mark. You’d felt warmth beneath your fingertips and a pleasant buzzing that tingled.
“Ransom is speaking to a lawyer,” you chimed, sitting across from Harlan on one of the bistro sets on the patio, “it appears that Donna and Richard, Joni too, are trying to press charges. For what Ransom did to Walt.”
“What about what Walt did to you?” Harlan countered, writing a note on one of his pads to his left.
“Do you approve? Of your grandson?” You asked, looking at Harlan with some hesitancy. It was his son against his grandson.
It was his son who was so money and power-hungry that he had tried to have you split part, ripped apart by ravenous alphas for the sake of his inheritance. That was a crime, according to the Omega Law, which you had no idea was even a thing.
“He did what any good alpha would have done.” Harlan stopped writing for a minute, looking you over with the same tenderness he always had. “And I am proud of him.”
“Really? Even if it happened to your son?” You we’re incredulous, taken back by the apparent defence of one and the conviction of the other.
“He finally has something good in his life. Ransom has someone in his life who can show him the kind of affection he has been starved of. I wasn’t lying when I said that you were the best thing for Ransom.”
“And what about my insecurities? What about the things I need in a relationship?” You frowned, your hand stilling on the chess piece you were playing with.
“You’re worried about Ransom.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? What if he’s playing me? What if he’s playing us all? How do I know Ransom is genuine? He’s brilliant, Harlan. And crafty. If he found a way to act like a doting alpha only to secure his future, then where does that leave me?”
Your voice shook, and tears sprung to your eyes. You hastily wiped your tears as you tried to catch your breath. You had seen first hand what a loveless marriage had done, what it could create.
Your parents had once been in love, but after they mated, the fire died. They only kept together because of you. When you were old enough to notice, you saw the cracks. Your father was a cheater; your mother was a closet drinker.
“I’m scared, Harlan.” Your bottom lips quaked as hot tears rolled down your cheeks and neck. “I’m scared of losing my heart to him and him breaking it.”
“Y/N-“
“I don’t want him to break my heart.” You clutched the front of your shirt with your right hand, balling it in your palm.
“You’ve already lost yourself to Ransom, haven’t you?” Harlan reached out and squeezed your hand, offering you as much comfort as he could.
“I love him. I fell too fast, too hard.” You shook your head and exhaled slowly. “I love him, and I don’t think he can love me back.”
“Ransom didn’t get much love in his childhood. He wasn’t shown how to love.”
“Your wife loved him.”
“It takes more than the love of a grandparent to save a young boy.” Harlan sighed and leaned back against his chair, his hand tucked under his chin. “I think I’d ruined them.”
“They had a choice, Harlan. You can choose to be cruel. You can choose not to love someone.” You countered, defending him once more. “They had a choice-“
“And so does Ransom.” Harlan squeezed your hand once more. “You can be so afraid of what you don’t know, of what you haven’t experienced, that you try and sabotage yourself. Or you stick to something familiar. Even if it causes you pain.”
Full of wisdom like he usually was, Harlan had shut down your arguments. He had made you wallow in silence, heeding his advice while you were dealing with your unkempt fear.
You loved Ransom. You love Ransom, as whole tendencies and all.
You’d never loved another man like you love Ransom.
You’d never found yourself so drawn to anyone like you were to him.
“Ransom is new to showing and receiving love. You need to take your time, be prepared for the slip-ups.” Harlan offered you another slip of comfort. “But if I had to take my best guess, I would say that Ransom is far more taken by you than you think.”
** **
Ransom knew it was late when he came back, and the mansion was quiet, oddly still. He knew it was late, and he knew that he was out later than he said he should’ve been. He felt his heart drop into his stomach when he felt and picked up on that off-kilter twinge to your scent.
He took the stairs two at a time, driven by a sense of panic, instinctual and primal when he heard the soft mutter of your voice. Ransom was propelled forward, increasingly so, until he entered your shared bedroom and saw the bed a mess.
“I can’t get it right,” you were sitting on the floor with your knees pulled up to your chest, your eyes red and puffy from crying.
“What are you doing?”
You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, your sniffle skewed by the snot dripping from your nose. The spikes in your scent were altering him to the blatant fact that you weren’t just upset, but instead, you seemed to be devastated. There was something wrong with you; there was something tainted.
“I’m trying to fix it!” You screeched at him, waving to the mess on the bed. “I can’t get it right!”
Ransom shuffled closer, crouching in front of you. He acted on instincts alone, letting that primal part of him take the lead because otherwise, he would be clueless.
He didn’t take care of omega’s. He usually screwed them and sent them on their way.
But you weren’t just any ordinary omega. He has claimed you. You were his. Even without his bite, without his mark, you were his.
And he was yours.
“Y/N-“
“I’m trying to nest, asshole!” You cursed at him through a slew of tears and another run of clear snot from your nose. “And I can’t get it right, and if I can’t get it right-“
“Nest?” Ransom’s eyebrows furrowed.
“A nest before heat!” You snapped. “I need to nest before I go into heat!”
“I thought you just had-“
You hung your head in your hands and started crying again; the sounds of your distress were eating at him. He was your alpha, for shit’s sake, and he was sitting there letting you be visibly and physically upset.
“Nest before the heat,” he mumbled before he stood and started ripping the blankets from the floor to pile them on the bed.
His actions had captured your attention. He knew from the quick stop of your tears and the lowering of your hands. He knew he caught your attention from the shift in your scent and the shuffling of your body as you rose to your knees.
“What are you doing?” You hiccuped.
“Nest-ing.” Ransom frowned, his lips pursed. “I’m building a…” he stopped and looked at the mess of blankets on the bed, displeasure rolling off him in waves.
“You can’t nest,” you pushed yourself to stand, “nesting is an omega’s thing.”
You reached for the blanket he was holding and gently tugged on it, pulling it out of his grip. You crumpled it up and threw it back on the floor, as you did with every blanket but one. You fussed with it, throwing it across the bed, so it was sideways, the most extended parts hanging off the bed.
“I’m helping you get it right.” He states so blatantly; there was no room for arguments. He said it, and it was true. “Hand me the blue one-“
“No.” You cut him off.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t nest; you don’t tell me which one is next. If you want to help, you do what I tell you.” You bent down and reached for a blanket.
“Fine,” ransom rolled his eyes, “we’ll do it your way.”
He blanched when you picked up the blue blanket, the one he wanted, with this bit of self-satisfied smirk on your face.
“You think you’re funny?” He quipped, a building smirk on his face as he grabbed the edges and pulled it over to his side.
“I’m in charge of the nest.” When you were satisfied with the blanket across the bed, you clambered into the mattress and hooked a sheet to the headboard with some hidden tacks in a small bag by your hip. You draped them across the wood, attaching one side to a hook on the chandelier, creating a drape that would block out the world. It would make this little cove that would block out all the shit going on outside the room.
“Help me,” you throw an edge to him.
“Here?” He asked gruffly, both irritated and peaceably calm about the whole nesting project.
“To the left,” you rolled your eyes, “the other left.”
“Do you want it here or not?” Ransom snapped.
“If you’re going to be a grump, then don’t help at all,” you jumped down from the bed to grab another sheet to make the other side of the cove.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m….”
“Did I hear you right? Did the great Hugh Ransom Drysdale utter the words ‘I’m sorry and mean it sincerely?” You took a jab at him, yet he didn’t respond.
He was too occupied looking at the nest forming, the great cove that he wished he could dive into. It wasn’t anything he had seen before, and it was filled with your scent and his scent; it was filled with endearing comfort that was beckoning them closer.
“It’s not perfect,” you grumbled, adding another sheet for the ‘roof’ and then a slew of pillows tossed into the interior, “it needs….”
Ransom watched you turn from the nest. He watched you live in his closet, throwing open the doors. He watched you reach into his clothes, his designer clothes until you found his favourite scarf. You ripped it from the hangar and wrapped it around your neck, inhaling his scent.
He felt a visceral reaction, almost a purr of sorts when he saw you wrapped in his clothes. He felt boastful, prideful. He felt like preening, like showboating the fact that you chose his clothes; you were wearing something of his.
“You want the sweater?” He strode toward you, offering up his favourite white cable knit, that same visceral purr escaping him when you snatched it and immediately pulled it over your head.
You didn’t hesitate then to jump into the nest and wiggle yourself under the top blanket. You nudged your cheek against his pillow and sighed wistfully. “It’s finally perfect.”
Ransom felt it then. He thought it is bubbling in his chest, the words on the top of his tongue.
He felt it hit him like a lead weight to the centre of his chest, and he couldn’t hold it back.
“I love you.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 10 days ago
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Alpha, May I?
A/N: Smut to begin with and fluff to end with 😊☺️😍
** **
Part 13
** **
Ransom didn’t plan anything half-assed.
Ransom didn’t plan anything half-assed. You had thought having a first-class ticket, and a mini-apartment seat on the plane was over-the-top, and then you saw the hotel room he had booked for you for two weeks, mind you, and you had been proven wrong.
The hotel room was over 2,000 square feet big, with two-bedroom, three private balconies, a private steam room, an on-site chef would come to the room to prepare three-course meals whenever you wanted, plus it offered views of the Eiffel Tower, Avenue Matignon, rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré.
It didn’t just feel like a hotel room, it felt like an escape to an entirely different world, and while Ransom may have been used to these kinds of dinners and extended stays in hotels like this, you were decidedly not. If you ever had to stay in a hotel, Holiday Inn was more of your style with the basic amenities that didn’t cost $8,910 a night.
“Ransom-“ he didn’t even give you the chance to protest when you entered the hotel room. He was on you the moment the doors had closed.
He had started ripping your clothes off your body while you were losing control to the feeling of his hands on you and his mouth attached to the mark on your neck. You couldn’t focus on anything but his trapped erection grinding against you as his hands slid down to the curve of your ass. His large hands groping at the curve of your ass as he pushed you back into a solid surface, maybe the back of a couch? It hadn’t mattered what it was, not when his lips were leaving delectable bruises on your skin, and you were slowly being driven crazy by the feeling of his body against yours and the shooting warmth that was pushing you to the brink-
“Ransom!” You groaned when he split your legs apart with his thigh and started rubbing his muscular thighs, his thick muscles legs against your clothes cunt, pulling soft and airy mewls from your mouth. “Quit being an asshole and either fuck me or fuck off.”
“Oh?” He smirked down at you, making you ride his leg without pause. “Are you needy, baby?”
“I hate you,” you whined, resting your forehead against his shoulder, “don’t make me say it.”
“I will make you say it,” he slid his hand between the waist of your jeans, the tightness of his and the jeans bringing you to a new level of desperation.
“Ransom,” you gasped when he grabbed your hips and jerked him closer to you, the friction from your jeans and his thigh creating this thick dampness between your legs that undoubtedly caused your panties to become drenched, “please-“
“Say it, omega.” He hummed against your lips, “say it, and you can have relief.”
He removed his hand from the back of your jeans and squeezed your hip instead.
His hands were still on your hips, and despite you not moving, he was forcing you. He was grinding you against his leg, he was grinding you against his thigh, and you were so blissfully trapped within his grasp that you couldn’t fight. Not that you would’ve if you ever wanted to.
“Ransom-“
“Say it,” he nudged your head aside with his nose, the gentle prodding giving him access to his mark on your neck, and for the second time in a short while, he had latched onto the mark and sucked.
“Oh…shit…” you shuddered, arching your back against him, your head lolling back “You’re only torturing yourself, princess. Just give in and tell me what I want to hear.” Damn, was he an asshole. And damn, was he good with his mouth.
“Fuc…” You whimpered when he snaked his hand up your shirt and underneath the cup of your bra to palm at your tits trapped beneath wire and cloth. “Okay! Fine, you prick! I concede.”
“Tell me what I want to hear,” he pulled his mouth away from your mark and started nibbling on your earlobe, his voice bringing you a sense of euphoria.
“I want you, and I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. I want t feel-“ Ransom had brought you relief. It happened within seconds of your first plea.
He had your jeans ripped down your thighs and legs, and within minutes your panties were pushed aside, and his tongue, his thick and powerful tongue, was pushed inside your dripping cunt. Your hand immediately fell to the back of his head, pushing him closer while he used his hands to keep your legs spread over his shoulders.
He was tongue fucking you like he was a dying man. He tasted you, filling you, and with every flick and flex of his tongue, his name fell from your lips like a mantra. All you could speak was praises for him, were moans and whimpers of pleasure he was bringing you from his mouth. It wasn’t long before you were shaking. It wasn’t long before you felt as if you were going to completely lose control and cum while his face was between your legs.
“Ransom, you should pull away-“ You squealed when he pinched your inner thigh and pushed himself closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against your clit. “Oh….fuck!”
It was too late, and he wasn’t going to pull away from you. You jerked your hips and dug your fingers into the back of his head, yanking on his hair as your pussy clenched on his tongue, and your orgasm hit you with little care. You screamed his name as you cum on him, as you gushed against his face, and he lapped it up, lapped your pussy juices up like this was his only source of life.
You were lost in the aftereffects of pleasure when he pulled away. You were lost in the aftermath when he had picked you up and carried you to a bedroom, to the first bedroom he could find and set you down on the bed before he crawled on top of you and let you taste yourself on his tongue. “I hope you don’t think you’re done, baby.”
“Ransom-“
“No,” he kissed you silently, “you have so much more to give me.”
** **
The walk down one of the paths in Parc Monceau was taken alone. Ransom had already left the morning with the instruction to meet you in the park. After discovering the dress he had left for you, draped across the back of one of the couches in the living room setting in the hotel, you had an excellent idea of what he had wanted to do today.
With the time set at just before noon, you had three hours to get ready and get to the park. It was easy enough to slip on the dress, which was incredible with a nearly open back save for the two bows that stretched across the expanse of your back and the skirt that fell naturally to the middle of your thighs. And it was easy to slip on the Louboutin heels he had left, which were more comfortable than you thought, but as you started to do your hair, pulling your hair out of your face into something simple yet pretty, you found yourself overcome with a great rush of emotion.
You were going to get married today. You were going to get married in of the most beautiful cities in France, and by the end of the day, you would be someone’s wife.
You loved Ransom, the little shit who drove you nuts. You loved him, and today, you were going to be married.
That was a staggering fact, a staggering emotional revelation that was no more powerful during the walk up to a stone bridge that overlooked a picturesque body of water with thick green bushes lining the bank and bright, beautiful flowers draped across the bridge, floating on top of the water.
You were getting married today, and every step you took brought you closer to the moment you never thought you would be sharing with Hugh Ransom Drysdale, yet there he was. He was waiting for you; his hands shoved into the pockets of a suit that complicated him too. Well, that accentuated the green in his eyes. The suit that made his legs seem longer, and if you hadn’t known the kind of man he was, you would’ve thought Ransom to be the kind of beautiful man every mother wished their daughter to be with.
“You look beautiful,” he complimented you as you walked up the stone bridge and approached him, shamelessly looking at him in that damn suit with that devious smirk on his face.
Even when you were meant to be married, he looked like a cocky asshole.
But he was YOUR cocky asshole, and that’s all that mattered.
“It’s not too late, you know,” you sidled up to him, slipping your arm around his waist, “you could change your mind.”
“I could,” he smirked, “and so could you. But then again, I’m sure I’ve ruined you for any other man’s cock. Compared to me-“
“You’re incorrigible.” You grinned, smacking his chest.
“You didn’t complain yesterday when all we did was fuck-“
“-like rabbits?” You rolled your eyes.
“Admit it, Y/N,” Ransom turned and grabbed your hand, pulling you along behind him toward the woman waiting for you, “you’re better off for knowing me.”
“Am I?” You countered, “or is it the other way around?”
“It is,” he stopped and faced you, “I am better off for knowing you.”
“Ransom,” your breath caught in your throat, “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.” He slipped a hand around your waist and pulled you flush toward him, his lips capturing yours. “You make me better.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” that wasn’t a threat, it was going to happen, “you can’t say something like that and expect me not to cry.”
“We’re getting married.” He kissed you again and wove his fingers in with yours, tugging you along behind him until you were not standing in front of the officiant. “After this, you’re never leaving me. Never.”
“As if anyone else would be able to put up with you,” you bit your bottom lip, trying your absolute hardest not to cry now.
“Do you have the rings?” the officiant asked, the woman looking at Ransom, who had dug into his pockets for a small, velvet box.
You watched him hand the box to the officiant who had opened the box and pulled out the rings, handing Ransoms to you and yours to him. When the box was set behind her on the bridge, she faced the two of you again.
“Last chance to ditch,” you shift your weight from foot to foot.
“I already told you I ruined you.”
“Ransom, you’re an ass.” You laughed, feeling the familiar prick of tears you’d felt when you were getting ready that morning.
“It’s the truth.”
“We can start.” The officiant spoke between the two of you, bringing the little quips to an end.
This wasn’t the relationship you wanted or had even thought you needed. Harlan had set this up because he thought you would be god for Ransom; Harlan saw something in you and Ransom that you couldn’t even think possible.
It wasn’t ideal. Ransom Drysdale was never your first choice of alpha, but Harlan was right.
He knew that there was an opportunity for you and Ransom to be what the other needed. Harlan indeed did have your best interests at hand, and he had Ransom’s as well.
You would have to thank him when you got back to Boston. You would have to thank the older alpha for twisting and pulling at the strings of a finely crafted and created contract to bring you and Ransom together, despite your best and most contrived arguments against it.
“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘I do,’” Ransom squeezed your hands and smirked, “unless you can’t speak because I fucked you stupid-“
“If I say yes, will you finally shut up?” You asked; your heart hammered against its cage when he smiled, soft and tender and affectionately.
“Maybe.”
“I do,” you spoke clearly, feeling the ring sliding onto your finger mere moments before the first congratulations were made, and his lips were on yours again.
“Mrs. Drsydale,” he whispered in your ear, “your ass is hitched to mine now.”
“I would pity myself,” you turned your head and locked eyes with him, “but I just can’t gather the strength after last night.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 24 days ago
Text
Alpha, May I?
Part 9
A/N: Mentions of violence
** **
The morning came with a haze that lingered for a few moments before dissipating like fog. He was well aware of the body pressed against his own, just as he was aware of your fingers digging into his biceps and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You were holding onto him with all your willpower, and Ransom felt a rumble in his chest, an inevitable surge of possessiveness that made him squeeze you tighter.
You were his now. You were his omega, his light. You were this innate goodness that was infiltrating him, that was encapsulating the only hope he felt he had.
You were the only good in his life. Among all the shit snd the trauma, the lack of affection and love, there you were.
And you were his. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.
He was a playboy, a trust fund prick. He was an asshole; he was a monster. Or at least that’s what he thought of himself
You showed him there was more; you showed him the throes and the pleasures of domesticity, and that came from only one day in the kitchen with you. That came from one day where you weren’t trying to go at each other.
He got a taste of something good, something pure.
Then his uncle tried to destroy you. Then his uncle drugged you and left you to be raped, to be assaulted and torn apart by two alpha’s who were ready to fight over an omega in a forced heat.
All for the pursuit of money and power. His uncle was willing to throw you away.
Ransom was dejected to admit that he would’ve too; he would’ve thrown you away for money and power. Before this, all happened before you two started growing closer, before he started to let himself loose to you.
He would’ve done the same.
Which could’ve explained why he was enraged by his uncle. Because you weren’t just anybody, you weren’t just an omega he could dick down and ditch; you were his omega.
You were HIS omega. And his uncle threatened you.
His uncle threatened what belonged to him, and that pissed Ransom off to no end. It was one thing to try and go after him, an alpha who could handle himself, but to drug an omega, to set her up to be violated…
“Your family is downstairs,” the very first few words you spoke after waking in a strange room, with Ransom hovering close, “we should leave.”
“No,” Ransom denied you, “no we’re not leaving. I have a few things that need to be said.”
He watched you roll over to face him, he watched your exhaustive state starting to lessen as the morning came, as your rapid firing heat had dissipated. Your hand was tucked under your cheek, your fingers grasping at the pillowcase with near full strength. He could see the fright in your eyes, he could see the apprehension that came after the events of last night, after the trauma almost inflicted on you, were settling at the forefront of your mind.
“Get dressed,” Ransom tossed you one of his sweaters he kept stashed here, “we’re going downstairs to confront them.”
“Ransom I don’t-“
“No,” his voice took on the kind of command that made omega’s obey, “you’re going to hear what I have to say and so will they. Now get dressed.”
You buckled; you caved. His mark on your neck was fresh, it was still raw. Even if it had healed, you would still have complied. He was your alpha, and although he hadn’t wanted to use that tone of voice often, he would command you when needed.
This was one of those times. You needed to hear this. So did his family. A line had to be drawn.
You were up and dressed within minutes, enveloped and wrapped in his scent, a pleasing thought for an alpha who was already on edge. You were surrounded by him, by his scent and by claim. No one would doubt that you were Ransom’s.
He stormed down the stairs, his family speaking quietly amongst themselves in the sitting room in his mothers house, one that greatly resembled the one at the mansion.
“You really think you did something? You really thought that by putting Y/N in that situation, I would be charged for assault and attempted murder?” He was a man who was encroaching on a beast. He was an alpha who was imposing and physically threatening on the best of days but now…
“Ransom what are you talking about?” His mother feigned ignorant wife, or maybe she really had been ignorant of what happened.
“Don’t act like you don’t know, mother.” Ransom scowled. “He drugged her and left her to get torn apart.”
“Are you serious? You would stoop that low?”
“You lying bastard-“
“Why don’t you ask Y/N what happened? Hmm? You ask her who drug her to the study, who assaulted her with his cane.”
“You will be charged, you little asshole!” Walt came on the defence, immediately. He held no fear of Ransom, like an idiot.
He laughed and it was unsettling. He laughed as he took slow calculating steps toward his uncle. He had no second thoughts about expelling his rage onto the man who had arranged for his omega who be torn apart by alpha’s chasing an omega on a drug induced heat.
“The omega defence law,” Ransom drew closer, his eyes blown wide with rage, “obviously you haven’t heard of it because you’re a whiny, little beta bitch.”
The whimper from your mouth has almost made him turn back, and yet when he looked over his shoulder and saw the state you were, his animosity grew.
You had a bruise covering your cheek, your head was still sore from where you’d been hit by Walt’s cane, and Ransom, driven into a rut by your sudden heat, had fucked you senseless when you needed tenderness.
“The omega defence law will prevent an alpha who is physically defending their mate from being punished. I could’ve ripped him to shreds and I should have, and I wouldn’t have faced punishment because my mate-“
“You didn’t mark her.” Walt sneered.
“I marked Y/N last night, you know after you drugged her and left her to be assaulted.” Ransom snapped. “I marked Y/N when I found her.”
Another whimper and another brief moment when he almost turned back.
“You threw my omega into a situation where Y/N would’ve been attacked and left for dead for the sole purpose of killing her and sending me to prison but you’re such a piece of shit who is so moronic that you weren’t even aware of the law.” Ransom watched his uncle squirm. He watched his uncle sweat bullets as the enraged alpha drew closer to the one threat against his omega that still stood.
“I’m not going to prison, you little fucker. But if you, if any of you,” he looked at his family pointedly, “come near me or my omega again, I’ll rip you to shreds.”
He turned back and grabbed your hand. He led you out of his mother’s house without another word, intent at leaving it where it was, but still unsettled.
** **
The argument hadn’t been enough. The charges that were going to be laid, hadn’t been enough.
He was smug. He was confident that his lawyers would sweep this all under the rug.
Ransom knew he was wrong, but it still wasn’t enough. The instincts coursing through him were calling for physical ramifications.
The courts of law could only go so far.
Ransom shifted on the bed. He turned his head and studied the peacefulness of rest, the soothing ease that befell you as you rest comfortably, safe in his presence.
Then he saw the bruise. His blue eyes got caught on the bruise on your cheek, the result of falling from the force used, and Ransom became flooded with vile, poisonous anger.
He seethed, unable to find sleep like you had. He needed to feel his uncle’s body breaking under his fists.
He lift the covers and pulled himself from the bed, from the warmth and the comfort. He slipped from the bed and stood, reaching for the pair of jeans he’d kicked into the corner, swiping them from the floor. He shoved his legs in and yanked them up his body, nearly getting them completely done up before he heard you shift on the bed.
“Ransom,” you mumbled and rolled over, your eyes barely open yet recognizing the departure of your alpha, “where are you going?”
You were so beautiful, so perfect. He almost didn’t think he deserved you. He almost didn’t think he was worthy of you. Someone like you, should’ve been with someone who wasn’t so tainted and screwed.
Ransom turned back to the bed and slowly placed his left knee on the mattress, feeling it dip beneath his weight. He placed his right hand on the mattress near the curve of your backside, stabilizing himself.
He leaned in and brushed your hair behind your ear. He pressed a soft, quick kiss to your forehead. “Go back to sleep. I need to take care of something.”
“Ransom-“
“Now, Y/N.” he ordered you. And he would apologize in his own way for it later.
But for now, there was only one thing on his mind. And he wouldn’t stop until his uncle felt the same sharp fear you had.
He wait until your breathing has evened out before he physically left the house. He wait until sleep became you, until you had drifted back into peace before he start the Beemer and took off, gravel spitting behind his tires. He knew exactly where his uncle would be at this point of the night, where he would be hiding out.
His uncle tried to make himself seem like a family man, like the man with the perfect wife and the well put together child, but that was only a carefully crafted image. The real truth was that his aunt was neurotic, he cousin was a nazi and his uncle was a pervert.
His uncle liked screwing barely legal beta’s and omega’s. His uncle liked screwing beta and omega whores who made him feel good about himself, who made him feel like he wasn’t a washed up piece of shit.
He sought approval from women paid to act like they enjoyed his cock.
He was nothing but scum.
Ransom knew where he was. Ransom saw his vehicle parked outside the cheap motel he always frequented. The same place and the same room, with his chosen bitch of the night. Ransom could see his reflection though the window, his blood relative would tried to take the only good thing Ransom had in his life.
He opened his driver side door and slammed it behind him. He shoved his keys into his pocket and approached the rickety wooden staircase that would take him toward his uncle. He placed his right hand on the railing and took the stairs two at a time, his long legs bringing him further toward his target within mere moments.
The second he set foot on the second level of the motel, something intrinsic and brutal took hold of Ransom. He wasn’t seeing his uncle in that motel room, he aww a predator who had tried to attack his mate; who tried to destroy what belonged to him.
This primal urge, this primality has transformed Hugh Ransom Drysdale into a beast. He was a phantom, a creature of animosity and violence that craved blood for his only innocent.
He approached the door and kicked it in, the door splitting from the frame, the door slamming against the cheap tobacco stained carpet. Ransom could hear the shrieking of the little whore his uncle was fucking, but he hardly spared her a thought. Instead, he turned on his uncle.
He stalked toward him and grabbed him by his arm, yanking him from the bed. He spared one glance at the half naked bitch and growled a single warning to leave.
She scrambled away, screaming and shrieking, leaving Ransom alone with his target.
“Ransom-!” His uncle was thrown from the bed to the floor, landing against the nightstand that sent over the alarm clock and toppled the lamp.
“You think you’re gonna get away with this,” he seethed and landed the first blow, heard the first sickening crunch of bones breaking, “you twisted bastard.”
His uncle tried defending himself, but he was no match to the pissed off alpha. He was no match for all those years of pent up anger, all those scathing comments about how useless Ransom was.
Punch after punch, blood coating his knuckles and dusting his face. The sickening crunch of bones breaking and snapping under the force of Ransom’s fists driving into his uncle’s body.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t stop when his uncle pleaded, he didn’t stop when his uncle was more blood than not, he didn’t stop when his uncle fell unconscious.
He only stopped when he heard your voice echoing in his head. He only stopped when the dulcet sound of your words cut through his rage. And then, he stood back and wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand.
“Come near her again, and I won’t stop until you stop breathing.” Ransom turned away and left the motel as quickly as he had arrived.
** **
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