Tawns of Fun

Imagine Ransom being miffed you came to see Harlan’s dogs, not him.

“Do I have to be wearing nothing but a collar to get your attention?”

“It’s a puppy playdate,” you answered, pointing to the calmly panting pooch at the other end of the leash.

“Why don’t we ever have any playdates?” he asked with a charming pout.

“You don’t have a dog.”

“I meant one-on-one.”

“I’m sure Harlan would appreciate his beloved grandson visiting him more often, yeah.”

Imagine letting your sugar baby impregnate you after he becomes your trophy husband. Then letting him drink the surplus milk. 

As much as you liked the breast-worship, he kept unintentionally (?) scraping his teeth against your nipples. 

“What was it you said to Joni?” Your spouse looked up from the fat mammary he had latched onto. “‘You’ve had your teeth on this family’s tit...’” 

Ransom chuckled against your nipple, spraying some droplets in the process.

Imagine Ransom blackmailing you into dating him after finding out you used to have a casual affair with his father.

Imagine being Ransom’s wife and Harlan promising to put you in his will if you have his baby. Your grandfather-in-law knows he can’t force you to divorce his horrible grandson, but maybe when once you’re a mom you’ll be more concerned with your child’s future...

Imagine having to refrain from laughing when the Thrombeys complain about Ransom never having worked a day in his life. Because you shoot and price all of his pin-ups. You even joked that if he somehow inherited the publishing company, Ransom could do some suggestive poses for the covers.

Imagine your boyfriend Ransom being amused when he finds out you had affairs with Richard and Harlan before you started dating him. Without either his father or grandfather knowing about the other man.

Imagine comforting your boyfriend after finding out he was left out of his grandfather’s will. Then finding out you’ve inherited Blood Like Wine Publishing.

Ransom had successfully wormed his way into your affections. But being your sugar baby (despite being several years your senior) wasn’t enough. He needed to secure a permanent residence in your heart. You needed to know Hugh Ransom Drysdale would tailor himself as much as necessary in order to become your trophy husband. Waxing his privates. Bleaching his ass-hole. Tramp stamping your initials. Whatever you needed or wanted.